#get better at fundraising dude i NEED this

[helladirections]

lol at my net negative bank balance

#yo #my friend is supposed to hire me on his campaign #like im already doing the work and he said he would pay me #get better at fundraising dude i NEED this

[angryschnauzer]

I realised two months have gone by since i last updated you all, i'm not even sure if anyone is interested anymore. I know i haven't been on much, perhaps sporadically coming on and mindlessly reblogging Henry stuff just for a little escape, but its intermittent at best. I had hoped to be back to writing by now, but life is still a huge pile of shit.

I'm run ragged trying to pay the bills. My wedding decorations business is halfway between slow and dead; the cost of living crisis means weddings aren't really happening, and if they are most of the items i do people are making themselves. My side gig in ebay flipping is quiet too but at least its trickling by. I don't mention this much as people get a lot of abuse over 'thrift store flippers' (Charity Shop resellers here in the UK), but right now its what's keeping my family fed. I buy clothing for £1 from the stinky dregs bin in a charity shop, wash it, mend it, resell it for £4. I'm not making millions or even thousands. I'm lucky if i'm bringing in £150 a week which barely covers our weekly food shop. Its draining that when i do eventually mention this to my friends they immediately start moaning at me that i'm the one 'ruining' charity shops and why its pushing the prices up. But when i calmly tell them its that or i don't eat they go quiet. I'm not the one pushing a 2nd hand coat for £25 which was only £20 brand new which most high street charity shops are doing. Do i like doing this? No. Do i have to? Yes. Because i sure as ain't cute enough for onlyfans.

But the majority of my time over the last couple of months has been spent caring for our son. He's 8 and has type 1 diabetes, and since school started back in September one little shit in his class has spent every waking moment bullying him. This little shit has been stabbing my son with pencils, poking him in the kidneys with whatever he has to hand, laughing and sneering at him at every opportunity even when he's just walking past. Having the adrenaline and cortisol in my son's bloodstream affects how his insulin works, and he builds up an insulin resistance because of all the other hormones in his bloodstream. I've had so many meetings with the school, and have had to get the board of governors involved because when your 8 year old kid says quietly to you "It would be better if i wasn't alive as then *Little Shit* wouldn't be able to bully me" your heart breaks into pieces.

He needs my support more than anything, so every single other thing has been put by the wayside. And its tough. He acts out at home, messes around with his dinner because he feels he needs to be able to control something, but that in turn messes up insulin dosing so i'm spending half the night dealing with highs and lows for his blood sugars. I get at most 5 hours sleep a night.

I have no more energy left. I'm not eating, because i just can't stomach it. I'm 43 and hitting menopause, but my doctor doesn't want to know because "You just need to loose some weight" (don't get be started on fat bias from the NHS).

So i'm filling my time with volunteering at school so i can be 'around' for my Little Dude. He knows that if he's having an awful day, he will find me in the office sorting through paperwork for our next fundraiser. Its not what i want to be doing, but its what i need to be doing.

One day i hope to get back to my writing. I miss being creative and i hate that i have so many stories part written/published. As the months tick by i actually end up seeing stories written by others that have the same characters/plotlines. This is no-ones fault that two stories exist on the same synopsis, it would just seem that they and I have taken the same inspiration from media at some point. But it makes me scared that if i now publish a story i started 2 years ago, i'll be accused of stealing an idea. I don't know what to do. So i just leave my WIP folder abandoned.

For everyone that has stayed with me thank you. For those that have moved onto pastures new, i wish you well and hold no malice.

I do love you all

Mama Schnauz

x

[ceneid]

hey y'all so, just : announcements, i suppose?

alright so : literally though this time, gonna take a quick break for maybe a week or so? i don't know i js feel kind of burnt out and my mental state has seen better days. a lot of shit happened over the past few hours while i was at school; my mom and dad had a pretty big fight and aren't talking to each other at all, it's not one of those petty little fights that recover over like ten minutes, i made a 84.5 on a science quiz earlier and safe to say my mom was chewing me the heck out, and me being me who's somewhat sensitive to derogatory comments if not jokingly said had a moment earlier, we have a sudden fundraiser for new jerseys for our school's softball team and i'm supposedly incharge of it with no forewarning from our student council pres at all, we have a new student coming in almost at the end of the year for some reason and i have to plan out a map for someone at our school to tour them around, our school's sports club needs new baseball bats, i need to tell our principal to go order some more new microwaves for the canteen since one earlier exploded because some crazy dude forgot that you couldn't put metal in an microwave, my hand is in pain because i got whacked there with a bat earlier because helping rushing softball girls get their bookbags with their bats hanging in the pockets is a pain literally, i'm kind of physically exhausted because there's been a heck ton of stuff going on + i don't think i've eaten anything for around nineteen hours or so even though i cooked dinner yesterday because i wasn't hungry + i normally don't eat breakfast, our school's cooking club needs new baking + cooking appliances and i'm in charge of that also, and it's just .. really hectic. with that said, i apologize to those requests still sitting in my drafts : i'll get to them as soon as i have the time to, i promise. with that also said, i think i'll be gone for some time in order to just .. get abit better, i guess you could say? the upcoming psat 11 is also getting to me, and my mom has been pressuring me more than ever to score over 1580 on it, meaning i can't miss more than two questions, since i'm pretty sure one question is ten points. there's just a lot of stuff going on in life that i have to tackle right now, and as much as i want to ignore them, responsibilities are responsibilities and i have to get to them some time. love you all, and i'll be on whenever i have the time to.

-temporarily signing off, èl <3

#i'll be on whenever i can find the time to ! #love you all <3

[sizzlinbaconpeach]

What do you think of Jill wearing more feminine outfits next to Carlos? I've never seen pictures of she in a dress with Chris. which means outside of work Chris has never seen her in a dress

https://twitter.com/dailystarsteam/status/1653583801463840769?t=e7FO7gnTMGWqEZIgCwdRpw&s=19

https://www.tumblr.com/sizzlinbaconpeach/720021109716779008/i-need-to-know-what-people-think-i-like-to-think?source=share

Here's the Jill and Carlos picture the Asker is referring to:

I want to start by saying that I can see how (especially) in the RE3Remake, Jill and Carlos do make quite a cute pairing. I feel like the remake did a much better job of making their relationship more 'shippy' and I liked Carlos a lot. I can totally understand if someone wants to ship Carlos and Jill.

I personally didn't see much romance between them in the OG RE3, but I understand that there are some slightly different paths with that game as well. Like you may get the above picture or a different one. I also know this can happen in the OG:

I'm glad Jill and Carlos have some respite after everything in RE3! Lord knows they both need it.

But I will always have a soft spot in my heart for Valenfield and they are my main RE ship.

Also, my sister and I joke that the poster Jill has on her apartment wall in the remake is of Chris (handsome dark haired biker dude who appears to have some military influences - we know Chris has a leather biker jacket and is ex-military. It might be a bit of a stretch but it also made us go 'Hmmm...') Source:

I could also go as far as to speculate (but should I? XD) that Jill (we don't actually see the persons face) is wearing one of Chris' shirts in the RE3Remake post-credits. Or at least it looks very much like Jill wearing a green shirt with a punching bag in the background (Chris has always been associated with the color green and punching boulders). But if you want to headcanon that it's Jill and Carlos I guess you could do that, too. (I think some people speculate it might be Rebecca as well, but I'm going with Jill)

Yes, Jill is definitely a woman who would wear cute feminine outfits if she wanted to. I have seen those pictures of Jill and Carlos at the end of RE3. It's always kind of fun when Capcom does things like that so you can determine for yourself what it means (like all these other points I've brought up, too).

But to come back to your initial point, I think there is definitely a chance Chris and Jill have seen each other in casual clothes over the many years they have known each other, which by Death Island will be about 20 years.

For example, you can read some entries from Jill's diary as bonus material in RE3 (the original), to which she mentions Chris in 3 out of the 4 entries. One entry even has her going over to Chris' apartment in the middle of the night. So did Chris see her in her pajamas? Maybe. Or maybe Jill wore her ugliest sweats and a huge trench coat. Maybe she suited up in her STARS uniform before going over? Maybe she did wear a really freaking cute outfit? Who knows. But what we do know is that she went over to his apartment in the middle of the night. My thought is that she went over in normal casual clothes.

There have been multiple subtle hints about how close Chris and Jill are in the series. Chris even writes to Jill that Claire may reach out to her about his whereabouts in his letter, found in the STARS office in RE2Remake. And that's why I like their ship so much, they have a lot of history together and care about each other deeply (whether you see them as romantic or not).

They are 2 of the original 11 founders of the BSAA. The BSAA rubs shoulders with some big government organizations and the like. Perhaps there has been a gala or fancy fundraiser or meet and greet with these organizations, which would mean Chris and Jill would attend in some formal wear. I'm not saying it happened, but it is within the realm of possibility.

And also, in RE5, Jill only tears off her cloak to reveal her skintight battlesuit once she's in front of Chris (And rips it open :O). Okaaayyy?? Girl has been missing her man for almost 3 years! Like... hmmmm.... lol. (No, honestly, I'm only joking, that whole ordeal breaks my heart for both of them - how traumatic it must be!)

So in short, I guess there is a chance that Chris and Jill have never seen each other in casual cute clothes, but their history and apparent connections (within canon) would more logically point to the fact that they have.

But Jill and Carlos are cute, too. Just not my favorite and first RE ship :)

I'm not here to start any shipping wars or anything. Just enjoying my current obsession :P

(Also, sorry if I sound ignorant, is there a cultural aspect that makes seeing someone in their casual clothes much more significant? I know RE is Japanese, so is it a big deal in Japanese culture? To our Western traditions, we usually place significance on seeing someone dressed up nicely)

#jill valentine #ask me answer #resident evil #re3 #chris redfield #carlos oliveira #sorry for writing a book in response

[thirstnotes]

| Imagine Being Quiet and Nerdy and in Love with Daveed and Rafa Since Childhood and Not Realizing Rafa Liked You All That Time (Part 2) |

(Part 1)

"Damn..." he said under his breath. You were cute back in the day, but he was in no way ready for the baddie that was standing across the street from him.

You were busy helping keep track of the booths for the block party, pretty brown eyes trained on your clipboard. Soft and sweet as ever. Even wearing a sundress that complemented your yummy curves. Yellow was becoming his favorite color.

"Ey, Y/N!" Daveed called from behind him. He couldn't decide if it was by accident or wholly on purpose. Knowing D, it was most likely on purpose, but he didn't have time to process the salt before you looked his way and smiled.

Shit, dude.

That fuckin smile could kill a man. Your eyes met his briefly before settling on Daveed, who had pulled you into a warm hug.

"Hey, thanks for coming. Seriously, we appreciate it.

"Of course, baby. You know we all about fundraising," he said suddenly, cutting off Daveed's response. Not to be rude or greedy. But honestly so you'd look at him again. He felt like a goofy ass pre-teen again, still gone over the quiet girl who lived across the street from his best friend. The Roxanne to his Max.

Daveed dipped his head, failing terribly at hiding his amusement. "What he said."

You laughed and brushed a braid from your face. "Well I do now."

Rafa shrugged with a smirk, intelligent conversation melting from his brain.

"Okay. I see you," you said with an amused laugh, turning and heading back across the street to handle business.

"I see you too," he called back, the intelligence in his brain gradually coming back, “I’m liking what I see too.”

You laughed, looking back at him before meeting up with another organizer. Then you were busy again.

"Smooooth bro,” Daveed facepalmed, shaking his head.

"Dude, I hate me so fuckin much right now," Rafa groaned, turning to regroup behind the popcorn booth.

"Dude I hate you so fuckin much right now," Daveed laughed, watching him wither a bit. "Will you chill out? I've literally never seen you like this with anybody else. Girlie likes you already. Just make ya move."

"I don't know, bro. She's different. I just. She's even better than a glow up, feel me? Like. A. I don't know. What's the word for an upgrade of an upgrade?" he joked, running a hand through his hair.

"I don't know, I think 'upgrade' pretty much covers it."

Rafa groaned, watching you cross the street with F/N, completely unaware of how gone he was over you. Still.

He honestly didn't get it. Whenever you came into the room, every ounce of swag he thought he owned abandoned him. As cliche as it sounded, he just got tongue-tied.

Which was dumb. You still liked him. He could tell from the way you looked at him. Even then, you were stealing glances at him, quickly looking away when you saw him looking back. So fuckin cute.

He needed to tell you. Soon.

He just needed to find the words.

#thirstnotes #Bayboys #Rafael Casal #Rafa Casal #imagine #Rafa x Black Reader

[butmakeitgayblog]

Joe Manchin can eat dirt too

Dude all of em. Pelosi was just supporting an anti choice dem like a a week ago. Kamala had the audacity to tweet a pic of her watching television like that meant a goddamn thing. Biden out here telling people to be calm and protest peacefully like that's ever done a goddamn thing. Like he wasn't directly responsible for the language in the bill that allowed the loophole for this to be overturned to begin with. We have the tools to end the filibuster and codify what we want and the fact that they won't do it tells you exactly what they think about our "rights." No I'm not saying both parties are just as bad as the other because they're not, but what I am saying is that on a fundamental level people need to realize that these people in power couldn't give a shit about our actual freedoms if it interferes with their bottom line of staying in office and fundraising. If lip service is all it takes to keep the money rolling in they're more than comfy doing exactly that.

This is a structural issue that needs to be fixed because bad actors have absolutely learned how to game the system. So now we're here, with an extremist faction party pushing every single agenda they want through and a bitch ass party who stands on the steps singing songs while looking around going "man that's crazy I wish there was someone who could fix this😔". They might as well have given us the finger. And until we the people actually start en masse putting constant and tangible pressure on these fucking politicians nothing is going to get better, but in fact drastically worse. And tbh, idk if it isn't already too to late.

#anon

[leslie-lyman]

Rights and Wrongs

summary: “I’m not keeping it, Jack. I knew that before I called him and told him. I don’t know if I want kids, but I do know that I don’t want them now. Not like this. And not with him.”

Or: Whiskey helps you get an abortion.

pairing: Whiskey x f!reader

rating: M

word count: 6.4k

warnings: possible dead dove do not eat; unplanned, unwanted pregnancy; early pregnancy symptoms including vomiting; descriptions of what pregnant people have to go through to get an abortion in the state of Kentucky; abortion clinic protestors and physical and verbal harassment of patients; reader has a medically unnecessary but state-mandated trans-vaginal ultrasound; use of moderate anesthesia and recovery from anesthesia; allusions to past loss and trauma (it’s Jack, I’m assuming know his backstory); not super-explicit description of reader getting a surgical abortion; Jack being a little naive in the way well-meaning straight white dudes often are but also being pro-choice as f*ck

Author’s note:

*Fleabag voice* This is a love story.

Hey there folks. Please read the warnings on this one. I know that pregnancy can be a tough topic for a lot of people to read about. Everything I’ve described here is what you actually have to go through to get an abortion in Kentucky. (Or, well, it was, until two days ago when the Kentucky legislature overrode the Governor’s veto of HB 3, which has resulted in a complete stoppage of all abortions in Kentucky.) If this is not a thing you want to read about, for whatever reason, I respect that completely.

However, if you read this fic and think it might be a good idea to spout some anti-abortion nonsense at me in response, I am going to pre-emptively suggest you kindly shove it up your asshole instead.

Abortion is health care. Abortion is a human right. You will not move me on this. I wrote this fic because I have a lot of anger and fear and frustration that the human right to bodily autonomy is about to be completely gutted in my country. But I also wrote it because abortion is normal. People get abortions every day. And I wanted to write and read a fic where reader gets her happy ending with Jack and an abortion is how it happens.

Additional note: This fic is also a fundraiser! April is when many abortion funds host their biggest annual fundraisers, and you can help! For each note this fic gets between now and the end of April - every like, reblog, and comment, even the ones that are me replying to someone, and hell, I’ll include asks and DMs about this fic too - I’ll donate a dollar to the Kentucky Health Justice Network, a fund providing direct financial and other assistance to people in Kentucky who need abortions.

If this sounds like a journey you’d like to go on with me, then let’s go.

Masterlist.

———

This afternoon has been taken up by two phone calls you never thought you’d have to make.

The first to the Kentucky Women’s Health Clinic. The second to your ex-boyfriend.

The call with the clinic goes well, better and easier and kinder than you’d expected, even if their first available appointment is further out than you’d prefer. The call with Michael goes even more poorly than you’d thought it would.

He hadn’t been your ex for very long; only about two weeks. Your breakup had not been amicable; nearly three years of dating had come to a car wreck of a conclusion when you’d discovered explicit texts and photos of several other women on his phone, going back months. He hadn’t tried to argue with you when you’d confronted him; instead, he’d blamed you for his forays into infidelity. You worked too much. You were too focused on your career. You didn’t devote enough time or effort to your relationship anymore, so no wonder he’d started to look elsewhere. Never mind that this was the first time you were hearing these complaints.

You weren’t heartbroken so much as furious. Furious with him, but also furious with yourself for not seeing the signs and ending things sooner.

And now, calling to tell him about the…situation you find yourself in only leaves you feeling humiliated.

“So this is your ploy, huh?” He says after you’ve explained. “This is how you’re gonna try to get me back?”

Your mouth hangs open, and for a moment all you can do is splutter wordlessly in rage.

“Are you serious?” You hiss at him. “I already told you I wasn’t planning on keeping it, and you still think that this is some kind of plan to, what, trap you into getting back together? As if that’s something I would even want?”

The volume of your voice has now crept upward to a full yell, and you admit it makes you feel marginally better.

Your conversation devolves further from there into a full-on shouting match, much of which is a re-hash of the row you’d had when you broke up.

“See, this is exactly the kind of thing I was talking about,” Michael says at one point, his tone one of smug vindication. “You never put your personal life first. At the smallest inconvenience you - ”

“This is not an inconvenience,” you seethe. Why is this so hard for him to understand? “Listen, I called you to tell you about this because I thought you deserved to know, but I guess even after everything I still didn’t comprehend just how much of a selfish asshole you are.”

“Takes one to know one, honey.”

That does it.

“Fuck you.”

You hang up and sink down onto the couch, not making any effort to stop the tears from falling.

The sound of your name, followed by the closing of the front door, makes you jump.

Shit. Jack’s home. You’ve been his guest for the past two weeks, having had nowhere else to go on such short notice after moving out of Michael’s apartment.

“Everything alright, darlin’?” he asks, “I swear I heard you hollerin’ when I was still clear down the hall about somethin’ - ”

You try to wipe your face and pretend like nothing’s wrong, but the instant Jack sees you he rushes over.

“Hey, hey, hey, sweetheart - ” he crouches down to your level, reaching up to brush the last of the tears from your eyes, concern written all over his face. “What happened?”

You don’t want to burden him with this. Not after everything he’s already done for you.

Not when he’s been the best friend you could ask for the past few years, the two of you meeting and growing steadily closer after you’d taken a job at Statesman (the distillery, not the spy agency). Not when Jack’s always been so generous with his time and his friendship, a rock-steady presence in your life who has been there for you no matter the circumstances. Who insisted you come stay with him after your breakup in his spacious Louisville penthouse, who refused to let you pay him any sort of rent, who assures you you’re welcome to stay as long as you like until you figure something else out, and whom you’d had to talk down from going over to Michael’s place himself to have words with the man on your behalf.

To share this with him feels like too much on top of all of that. Especially when you know about the tragedies in his past. Part of you is afraid that if you tell him, he’ll turn away from you. That he’ll call you selfish, just like Michael did, or think you’re committing some terrible sin. That if you tell him what you intend to do, it will cause an irreparable tear in your friendship.

But it appears you no longer have a say in the matter. Not when Jack is looking at you like this and you know you’re not just facing Jack Daniels, your best friend, but Agent Whiskey, an elite secret agent who will know if you lie to him. You gulp in a breath and try to steel yourself for this conversation before words start tumbling out of your mouth.

“I’ll tell you, but Jack, let me just say that if anything I say makes you uncomfortable we don’t have to keep talking about it, I’m a big girl, and I can handle my own shit - ”

“Darlin’,” he says, in a quieter, kinder version of the firm, no-nonsense tone he uses to bark out orders to subordinates, “what’s wrong?”

Just rip the band-aid off. Just do it. Just tell him -

“I’m pregnant.”

Jack’s eyebrows damn near disappear beneath the brim of his Stetson. Whatever he’d been expecting you to say, it clearly had not been that.

He looks down at your stomach as though it will appear any different from the last time he’d seen it this morning.

“You-you are?”

You nod. “Yup, I’m knocked up but good.”

You can see the gears turning in his head as he runs through the implications of this revelation.

“And am I correct in assumin’ that the other responsible party in this scenario is Michael?”

You nod again.

Jack swallows and rubs at his chin with one hand, a gesture you’ve long since come to recognize as something he does when he’s nervous, though you can’t imagine why.

“Are y’all still broken up?” He asks, and there’s something tentative about it.

“We are,” you rush to assure him. “Believe me, we are. Something I’ve never been more sure of after the conversation I just had with him.”

Jack frowns at you. “Ah. And am I also correct in assumin’ that he did not take the news well?”

You can’t help but laugh at the enormous understatement, but there’s no real humor in it.

“I’m not keeping it, Jack. I knew that before I called him and told him. I don’t know if I want kids, but I do know that I don’t want them now. Not like this. And not with him.” You scrunch your face up into a grimace.

“It’s not-it’s not just that he didn’t take the news well, it’s that I told him I was pregnant, I told him I’d made an appointment for an abortion, and he thought I might be making it up to try and get him back. Do you know what he said to me at one point?” Tears prick at your eyes again, and it’s more from frustration than anything. “‘If you’re going to get rid of it, why are you even calling me?’ I felt he should at least know, and I’d hoped that maybe he’d be willing to help me through the process if nothing else. Abortions aren’t allowed to be covered by insurance in this goddamn state and they aren’t exactly the cheapest things in the world, but regardless, Jack, I told him I was pregnant and it was like, it was like - ”

You blink up at the ceiling, unwilling to look at Jack as the tears start to fall freely again. “It was like he didn’t even care.”

“Oh, sweetheart-” In one quick movement Jack sits down beside you and pulls you into his arms. “I’m so sorry. That bastard does not deserve you. He never did.”

You let yourself melt into Jack’s embrace, the oddly comforting smell of old cigars still clinging to the thick gray wool of his blazer, no matter how many times he gets it dry-cleaned.

“Took me two damn days to work up the nerve to call him, and that’s the reaction he gives me,” you grumble into the fabric. “Unbelievable.”

You feel Jack’s back stiffen.

“Wait,” he says, pulling away slightly so he can look at you, “you mean to tell me you’ve known about this for two days and you’ve been keepin’ it all to yourself?”

You open your mouth to try and explain, but Jack halts you.

“I’m not sayin’ you’re under any obligation to ever tell me anything, sugar, but this seems like a mighty heavy burden to carry all by yourself. You needn’t ever feel like you have to shoulder such a thing alone, you know that, right?”

You shrug, unable to meet his eye, suddenly becoming fascinated with the worn brown leather of the couch instead.

“I wanted to tell you,” you say, “but I was - oh god this might sound so stupid, but - I was scared. I wasn’t sure how you’d react, both to the news and to my decision about what to do. Because, you know - ”

You gesture vaguely, hoping he understands the reason for your trepidation. This was a man who, not long before you’d met him, had been willing to let millions die because of a grudge he’d held that was eating him alive. He hadn’t been successful, thank god, and he’d put in the serious, long hours in therapy while chained to a desk assignment for over a year before being let into the field again. But still, you’d hate to think you’ve reopened that wound.

Jack makes a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat. He tilts your face upward to look at him, then gently brushes your hair behind one ear.

“Darlin’, my past and my traumas are my responsibility. That pain of losin’ my family is always gonna be there, but what’s important is that it doesn’t control me anymore. So while I appreciate you lookin’ out for my feelings, the only feelings I am concerned with right now are yours.

“As for the nature of your decision - my family was taken from me. Me and my wife’s choices about when and how we wanted to have our baby boy were taken from us. The last thing I would ever want to do is to have that choice taken from anyone else.”

You swear you normally don’t cry this much. Perhaps you can just blame it on pregnancy hormones. But you didn’t realize until just this moment how much it means to you to hear Jack accept your pregnancy - and your decision to terminate it - without judgment. To find that your fear of your best friend rejecting you is unfounded. Your head drops against his shoulder as an unexpected feeling of relief washes over you.

Jack leans back on the couch, gently pulling you with him until you’re tucked safely under his arm.

“When’s your appointment?” He asks. “I can tell Champ I’m takin’ a day or two off work, I figure they won’t want you to drive yourself to and from the clinic. And I can be here for as long as it takes for you to recover.”

“Jack, you don’t have to - I don’t mean to ask this of you - ”

“You’re not askin’,” he interrupts, resting his free hand on your knee and squeezing, “I’m offerin’.” His broad palm spans so much of your thigh, his touch making you feel tingly and warm even through the fabric of your jeans. “I’m here for you, sweetheart. Now, tell me what you need.”

———

Three weeks. It’s three weeks between the time you tell Jack and your appointment, the severe imbalance of the supply of abortion services in your area compared to the number of people needing abortion care meaning lead times for appointment slots are lengthy. Every day is money out of your pocket, too, the delay in getting the procedure meaning that you’ll be far enough along that a cheaper medication abortion will no longer be an option. Instead, a significantly more expensive surgical abortion awaits you, which means your risk of side effects and complications, while still small, increases, as does your recovery time.

The feeling of helplessness you carry around constantly only grows as all you can do is wait for time to pass.

And in the meantime, you’re still pregnant, when you very much don’t want to be.

There’s no escaping the typical effects of a first trimester pregnancy that start wreaking havoc on your body. You can’t blame it, as much as you want to. Your body doesn’t know that this ultimately isn’t going to go anywhere; it’s not like there’s a pause button you can hit or a hold for abortion switch you can flip.

Through all of it, Jack is a saint. He’s endlessly patient and gentle, never getting upset with you when a mood swing hits and you snap at him for no reason (though you always feel terrible and apologize for it after). He fills the apartment with every snack and weird food combo you crave. He takes on chores you were used to doing yourself - washing your dishes, doing your laundry - when fatigue hits you so hard things like just getting into your pajamas and brushing your teeth take all your energy. He holds your hair back and presses a cool washcloth to the back of your neck when you’re hunched over the toilet from morning sickness, even in the middle of the night.

It’s during one such incident, about a week before your appointment, that you hit a breaking point.

It’s just after midnight, and you’ve been in the bathroom for half an hour. Everything about you is a sick, achy mess, and you’d be humiliated that Jack is sitting here on the tile floor next to you to see it all happen if you still had any energy left to care. You take a swig of water from the cup he holds out to you and swish it around before spitting it into the toilet bowl. You rest your forehead against the edge of the porcelain and let out a moan of pure frustration, the sound raspy and froggy coming out of your raw throat. You’re so exhausted and sick and absolutely done.

“I hate this, Jack,” you whine. “I hate this, I hate this, I hate this. I just want this to be over. I just want to stop feeling like shit. I just want my appointment to fucking get here, and I know this might sound callous, but I just want it gone.”

“I know, sugar,” he says, scooting over to rub a hand up and down your back, his other tracing a path along your arm. “I hate seeing you like this, knowin’ there‘s nothin’ I can do to make it better. But it’s gonna be okay. I promise.”

You think sometimes about the notion that he’s probably so good at taking care of you right now because technically he’s done this before. And in the deepest, most secret part of your heart you’ve started to wonder if this is what it would be like, to be Jack’s wife, to be having Jack’s baby. To have him take care of you because he wants you, because he loves you. It’s a fantasy that appeals to you far more than you’d like to admit.

There has always been something there, hidden under your otherwise platonic feelings of friendship towards Jack. But you’d only been with Michael a few weeks before meeting Jack for the first time, and while you found Jack handsome and charming and sweet, you’d buried any feeling that threatened to develop into a crush on the man deep, not wanting to jeopardize your new relationship.

But now, without the excuse of Michael to motivate you, and with more evidence than ever before right in front of your face of what a good friend, a good man, Jack Daniels is, whatever you’d suppressed has come roaring back with a vengeance, a dormant seed finally bursting free from the ground and rapidly climbing towards the sun. But it’s a development you’ll figure out how to deal with after your appointment. One problem at a time.

“You make it better just by being here, Jack,” you tell him. And it’s true.

Something flickers across his face, some flash of emotion you can’t place. He takes a breath and looks like he’s about to say something to you, but at that moment another round of nausea hits you, and any reply he might have made is interrupted by the extremely attractive sight and sound of you dry heaving for the third time that night.

———

“I don’t like the look of this, darlin’,” Jack says warily, eyeing the group of protestors on the sidewalk.

You shrug. “Neither do I, but if you want to get to the clinic, you gotta walk through that crowd.”

There are two abortion clinics left in the entire state of Kentucky. And every day that the clinics are open, people show up to protest and harass the patients. There’s about two dozen of them in front of the Kentucky Women’s Health Clinic today, nearly half of them standing with enormous signs depicting blown up images of bloody embryos covered in giant text with phrases like “BABIES ARE MURDERED HERE” and “CHOOSE JESUS” and references to Bible quotes you’re sure are in no way taken out of context.

State law requires that you give your consent to the procedure face-to-face 24 hours beforehand, but fortunately you were able to do it over Zoom the day before. For the better part of an hour afterwards you’d ranted at Jack about the information you’d been given, essentially a lecture dictated not by any medical professional, but by the almost exclusively straight, white, conservative men who made up the vast majority of Kentucky’s legislature.

It’s such condescending bullshit you’d shouted at him, suddenly having more energy than you’d had in weeks. That poor nurse had to tell me that medication abortions can be reversed, which isn’t true. She had to tell me at length about the adoption options in this state, as if adoption does jack shit to solve my “I don’t want to be pregnant anymore” problem, or mitigate any of the serious health risks of carrying a pregnancy to term. God knows how many years of education and training this woman had to go through to become a nurse, only to now have both of us be force-fed sanctimonious anti-choice, anti-science horseshit just because some crusty old men still haven’t come around to the fact that women are people.

But seeing the crowd outside the clinic now, you’re at least grateful you’d been able to jump through that hoop with a video call, instead of having to go to the clinic twice.

“Well then, if there’s really no avoiding’ those folks - ” Jack reaches over your legs to open up the glove box where his dual pistols are waiting. As nervous as you are, you still get a little thrill from his arm brushing across your thigh.

“Jack, stop.” You put your hand on his arm to still him. “I appreciate the thought, but you can’t bring weapons into the clinic. They’re understandably a little paranoid about that, you know?”

Understanding dawns on his face, and he looks abashed.

“Sorry, sugar,” he says. “I was just thinkin’ about giving those nosy nellies out there a reason to keep their distance.”

You give his arm a squeeze. “I know you were. But let’s just get in the door, okay? Whatever you do, don’t let them provoke you. I’m gonna be in no state to bail you out of jail if you let one of them get a rise out of you.”

He nods.

“Let’s go.”

The second you open your door, the noise hits you. People chanting and yelling, at least one of them into a bullhorn. Someone’s playing music through a portable amplifier that has both seen and heard better days. More than a dozen people swarm towards you and Jack the instant you’re out of the car, all of them pushing in way too close for comfort, and almost all of them men. Two clinic escorts in orange safety vests take up posts on either side of the two of you, providing you with what buffer they can and offering words of encouragement and distraction.

Jack doesn’t hesitate: he wraps one arm around you and tucks you in close to his side. Your arm automatically goes around his waist and you cling to him, turning your face into his jacket and breathing in the comforting smell of whiskey and leather and Jack.

Strong man protects you, whispers your lizard hindbrain despite the highly inappropriate timing, finding Jack’s presence achingly attractive even through the rising anxiety of walking through a hostile crowd.

You try to tune out the specifics of what the protestors are trying to shout in your ear, mostly variations on “don’t murder your baby” and “we can help you” and a good deal of yelling about God and Satan and repenting for your sins. But after a minute you realize that they aren’t just yelling at you. They’re also yelling at Jack.

“Don’t let her murder your baby!”

“If you do this, you’re going to hell!”

“Be a man, don’t let her kill your child!”

Your throat closes up in horror. Of course, of course they would assume that Jack is the father, with no thought at all to what the circumstances might actually be, how hurtful those words could be for him to hear. You wrap your arm even more tightly around him, feeling more guilty than you’d thought possible that you’d dragged him into this. But apart from the occasional “Fuck off!” when one of them gets too close, Jack says nothing to the protestors, instead walking quickly along the sidewalk with his spine ramrod straight, like he’s trying to use every inch of his build to appear as intimidating as he can.

You’re almost to the clinic when suddenly someone steps right in front of you, a middle-aged man big and bulky enough to make you stop in your tracks. He’s wearing a sweatshirt that reads “JAIL ABORTIONISTS.” Before anyone can do anything he reaches out and grabs your free hand that’s not holding a fistful of Jack’s jacket. He grips it tightly and tries to shove some kind of a pamphlet into your palm.

“Hey - ” you start to say, more out of surprise than anything else.

Jack reacts instantly, inserting himself between you and the protestor before the man can even start on his spiel with an honest-to-god snarl in your defense. He moves like he’s about to hoist the man up by the front of his shirt, but as the man lets go of you you manage to bring your arm up to stop Jack from doing anything to further escalate things.

Because you know from the look on his face, deep and sure in your bones, that if Jack had his way, the man who’d grabbed you would be dead.

Strong man protects you, purrs that stupid cavewoman part of your brain again, instead of being horrified by the notion of Jack killing someone for harming you.

“Don’t you touch her,” Jack growls, and you swear you’ve never seen him look more furious.

Several additional clinic escorts move to put more distance between you and the protestors and hurry you both the rest of the way inside.

As the door shuts behind you, the sounds of the people outside become muted. You inhale a shaky breath. Jack cups your face in his hands, looking you over to make sure you’re unhurt.

“You alright, darlin’?” he asks, with so much genuine concern in his voice it makes your heart ache. He gently runs his hands up and down your arms. “That son of a bitch didn’t hurt you, did he?”

But you barely hear him, immediately launching into a stammered apology.

“Oh my god, Jack, I’m so sorry, those awful things they were saying to you - ”

There’s a moment, then, where you both stop and look at each other, realizing you’re each far more concerned about the other’s well-being than your own.

“It’s okay, honey,” he finally says, and your tummy flips over at the unusual endearment. His voice gets low and quiet in the way that it does when he’s making a serious point. “You ain’t got nothin’ to apologize for. Those folks out there - it’s just ugliness for the sake of being ugly, for the sake of feelin’ more righteous than others. Nothin’ they can say can hurt me. But what I truly cannot stand - ” he lets his hands fall away from your face, but not before brushing the back of his knuckles along your cheek, “is when people do not mind their own fuckin’ business. And when they think they can put hands on the people I - on the people I care about.”

You smile tentatively up at him. “I like when you use your calm, Serious Jack voice on me.”

His mouth quirks up in surprise.

“Yeah?”

You nod. “Always makes me feel better.”

He pulls you into a too-brief hug. When he lets you go, he asks, “Alright, darlin’, ready to do this?”

If Jack is with you, you’re ready for anything.

“I am.”

———

The first part of your appointment feels remarkably similar to any other doctor’s visit, just with slightly more paperwork. You sit in the waiting room with Jack, filling out form after form and then waiting to be called back.

Finally, a nurse pokes her head out from the back and calls your name. You stand, and she sees you have someone with you.

“He can come back with you too, if you like,” she says, jutting her chin in Jack’s direction.

“Oh.” Shit. You haven’t talked with Jack about this, and you’ve already asked him to do so much, but after your awful experience outside, part of you really, really doesn’t want to be alone without him for the rest of this.

You turn back to him, trying to find the courage to tell him it’s fine, he doesn’t have to go with you, but once again, he reads you like an open book.

“Do you want me to go with you, darlin’?” he asks quietly, and you know once again he’s doing it to let you say yes to his question instead of having to ask him outright.

You curse yourself for not being strong enough to say no.

“Please.”

He stands, and lets his hand settle on the small of your back.

“Ladies first.”

———

The next hour passes in a blur of nurses coming into your exam room to take your vitals, have you fill out some more forms, and take samples for bloodwork. Finally, you get to talk to your doctor about the procedure itself.

Dr. Andrea Morgan is a tall, slender woman in her mid-fifties with an absolute riot of curly black hair tumbling over her shoulders. She has the reassuring, no-nonsense air of a physician who knows exactly what she’s doing, but also the kind demeanor of someone who understands how scary getting an abortion might seem.

You like her immediately.

Jack, on the other hand, has decided to fully embrace the role of your bodyguard, and proceeds to interrogate the poor woman like he’s on assignment for Statesman before he’ll let her perform what you know is a very common, very safe, relatively minor procedure on you.

Dr. Morgan takes it all in stride, talking the both of you through what the abortion will actually entail, what side effects to watch out for afterwards, and for how long to take it easy once it’s over. You’ve also elected to have her insert an IUD while you’re there, figuring you might as well do what you can to lessen your chances of ever being back in this situation again.

“Most people are able to resume normal activities within a day or two of their abortions,” Dr. Morgan tells you. “But depending on how your body adjusts to both the procedure and the IUD insertion, you may find an additional day of rest is necessary. Now this kind of IUD will start providing you immediate protection against pregnancy,” she holds up the t-shaped device, the version that’s made of copper, “however, you shouldn’t have vaginal intercourse for two weeks following the abortion to ensure everything heals up properly and there’s no risk of infection.”

Jack makes a muffled noise next to you and you glance over at him. For the past twenty minutes this man has listened and asked questions about your health and wellbeing and has sat through a truly shocking amount of discussion about your reproductive parts without blinking an eye, but for some reason this is the thing that now has the tips of his ears turning beet red.

If Dr. Morgan notices, she says nothing.

When all of your questions are exhausted, she lets you know she’ll be back to perform the procedure shortly, letting an ultrasound tech into the room.

“Now hang on a minute, sugar,” Jack says as the woman starts setting up, “what’s this about?”

You’ve actually been dreading this part more than anything else.

“We have to do an ultrasound before performing an abortion, sir,” the young tech says. She looks like she can’t be more than a year or two out of school, and you wonder at what bravery a person like her must possess to work at a place so constantly under threat. To know the risks of being injured or even killed for working in an abortion clinic are serious and real, and decide the work is worth doing anyway.

“An ultrasound?” Jack frowns in genuine confusion. “Lord knows I’m no doctor, but that seems a little unnecessary, don’t you think?”

“It’s required by state law, sir,” the tech replies, giving you a sympathetic glance. “We have to show the ultrasound as well as describe the fetus in detail. If we can detect a heartbeat, we have to play that sound too.”

Jack twists to look at you in horror.

“I know, Jack,” you say, aware that you’d have to go through this and already hating it.

“That is - that is just cruel,” he splutters in disbelief. “This is, what, some attempt at manipulatin’ folks into changin’ their minds? Or some sort of punishment for you makin’ your own damn decision about your life?”

“I’m not gonna change my mind,” you tell him, your voice somehow much calmer than you feel. “And it’s only a punishment if I choose to take it as one. If I choose to feel ashamed about this, and I don’t.”

Your inner rage is outwardly reflected on Jack’s face, and for a second he looks like he’s about to start arguing with the tech about subjecting you to this.

“It’s okay, Jack. I mean, it isn’t, but it’s something they have to do. If they don’t, they could be shut down for being out of compliance with the law, and that doesn’t help anyone.”

“I have to display the images and talk about them,” the tech says, “but you neither have to look nor listen if you don’t want to.”

She also offers Jack the chance to step out if either of you is uncomfortable with him being here for this part, but he shakes his head.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart,” he says, and you desperately hope he doesn’t notice the little shiver that runs down your spine. If only he meant it in all the ways you want him to.

Because of the stage of pregnancy you’re in, the tech can’t just slather some jelly on your stomach and get the image she needs. Instead, she puts a condom and some lube on a small probe that gets inserted into your vagina. It’s about the same level of discomfort as getting a Pap smear, and knowing that there’s absolutely no medically sound reason for you to be in this position right now makes you start to shake with anger. This, beyond anything else you’ve experienced today, feels like a violation.

The tech makes some adjustments and fiddles with the machine, and then up on the screen next to you, there it is. A grainy image of, you assume, your baby, though it’s difficult for your untrained eye to make much sense of what you’re seeing.

“I’m going to start describing it now,” the tech alerts you gently. “This shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

“Sugar,” Jack says, his voice low but steady, “look at me.”

You do. Jack’s sat himself down in a chair at your side, making him for once just a little shorter than you are. His eyes betray the outrage he still feels on your behalf, but you can tell he’s trying to tamp it down, aware that that’s not what you need from him right now.

“Don’t listen to her, listen to me.”

It’s an easy command to follow. You could listen to Jack’s warm, confident drawl all day.

“You have been so brave through all of this. I know your decision about what to do was an easy one for you, but then to face down all these hurdles bein’ put in your way, determined to not let anyone or anything keep you from makin’ your decision a reality? I have never, ever been prouder of you.

When this is over, I’m gonna take you home and you’re gonna rest for as long as you need to. We’ll order whatever takeout sounds good to you, and we’ll watch any movie you want.”

“Even The Parent Trap?”

That makes Jack smile for perhaps the first time all day. He’s never particularly cared for that film, one of your all-time favorites.

“Yes, darlin’, even that one. You are not gonna have to worry about a single thing after this. I’m gonna take good care of you.”

You’re glad they don’t have you hooked up to a heart rate monitor to broadcast the sudden rapid increase in your pulse. Jack’s already taken such good care of you. You think you may want him to do it forever, if he’d be willing to.

———

At last all of the preliminary hoops have been jumped through, and Dr. Morgan re-enters your room just as another nurse prepares to hook up an IV of mild sedatives into your arm.

The drugs don’t knock you out completely, but they do make everything look and feel like you’re drifting along underwater. You can see the slightly blurry shape of Dr. Morgan moving around between your legs, and you can feel things happening down there, but it’s like the part of your brain that allows you to actually react to stimuli has been switched off.

Suddenly, however, things sharpen enough that you register a serious amount of pain somewhere near your cervix. Your body tenses up and you whimper, going white-knuckled around the arms of the dentist-style chair they have you reclined in.

But when you look down, you realize one of your hands isn’t squeezing around the arm of the chair -

- because Jack is holding it.

Something else breaks through the haze then, a sound, and you realize it’s Jack, whispering more soft praises and talking you through it.

“You’re alright, darlin’, you’re alright,” he says, “You’re doin’ so well. It’ll be over soon, just keep hangin’ on to my hand, there’s a good girl. My brave, strong, precious girl. I’m right here, sweetheart.”

Jack.

How is it that this man is so perfect? Whatever did you do to deserve someone so selfless, so kind, so generous?

You love him.

The revelatory thought bursts through your mind like a beam of sun through clouds and oh god.

You love him.

You should tell him that.

You have to tell him that.

Right now.

You open your mouth and try to form words, but apparently the part of your brain capable of coherent speech has also been temporarily switched off, and what comes out is garbled nonsense.

He huffs out a laugh, and you feel his other hand come up and softly pet your hair away from your face.

“Hush, darlin’, it’s alright. Whatever it is, we can talk about it when you’re not so loopy from all these drugs, okay?”

Kind, handsome, and smart.

What would you ever do without him?

———

After the procedure Dr. Morgan keeps you in the room under observation for over an hour until she’s satisfied that the sedatives have worn off enough that you can go home. You’re still a bit out of it, which turns out to be a blessing in disguise because it means you don’t really remember walking out past the protestors a second time.

You must fall asleep on the ride home because the next thing you know Jack is opening the door on your side of the Bronco and undoing your seatbelt.

You try to brush his hands away and argue that you can do it yourself, but he just shushes you and hauls you into his arms. He carries you like that, bridal-style, all the way up to his apartment before laying you down gently on his couch. He covers you with a blanket as you start to drift off again.

But you fight it, just for a moment, struck by this nagging thought in the back of your head that you have something you need to tell Jack, though you can’t quite remember what exactly it is.

“Sleep, darlin’. It’s okay; I’ll be here when you wake up.”

The last thing you feel before you’re out like a light is the soft brush of lips against your temple.

Part 2.

———————————————————————

Taglist: @honestly-shite @ezrasbirdie @jazzelsaur @girlofchaos @oonajaeadira @magpie-to-the-morning @mandoblowmybackout @thirstworldproblemss @randeerenae @whataperfectwasteoftime @katareyoudrilling @sherala007 @pedroslilbitch @radiowallet @grogusmum @iamskyereads @bruxasolta @i-can-get-back-on @theredwritingwitch @green-socks @xoxabs88xox @steeevienicks @sergeantbannerbarnes @stardustsophia @churchill356 @peterfrauchen @baybrowne @hloke @lowlights @adancedivasmom @kirsteng42 @harriedandharassed @beecastle

#jack daniels x you #jack daniels x reader #jack whiskey daniels #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #jack daniels fanfic

[atlas-of-the-universe]

Causing a Scene

Word Count: 20k, so it’ll take around an hour to read in full. 

Warnings: MA-rating. Mentions of sex (nothing major until the end), minor creepy dude pinching a butt but you show him, so don’t worry LOL 

Pure unadulterated romantic Loki falling for a mortal. Some protective Loki, lots of teasing.

Authors Note: I genuinely need to make an apology for how long it’s been taking me to chug out some things. I’ve promised you guys over and over again that I would get things out on a certain time, but life and circumstance has made it so that’s becoming quite difficult. I’ll discuss that in an upcoming post. I really hope you guys don’t mind how long it took. It’s a chunk of words. But I worked kinda hard on this one and made sure it was perfect before releasing, unlike my last fic LOL. I also need to mention @writingfics-passingtime​ and @just-another-blog-of-fluff​ for not only encouraging me through this, but giving me ideas and pointers as of how to go about it. They are genuinely not only some of the best authors here, but amazing people in general. Please go check out their work, they have MASTERPIECES. But without further ado, a fic that took me literally 4 months to write. 

<3

   The mirror in front of you seemed to mimick your movements instead of portraying them, as its job entailed. Truthfully told, it didn't look like you. Although you had worn dresses before in your life, this felt wildly different than those times. The past consisted of holiday treats and cheap decorations, a newer, plastic-ey feeling dress purchased from the dusty corners of the discount section. That, or an at-home birthday party that required you to buy an economical cocktail dress that felt way too tight on your shoulders. But this...this was a new feeling. 

It had been almost a year since you joined the Avengers, and your physical tone revealed the difference of an entire year's worth of training. Your arms had become thinner and more muscular, and the same could be said about your legs, you noticed as you turned your hips to look at yourself in the mirror. The dress you wore swayed along with your movements, the red sparkles of the fabric already coating your room in a light dusting of shimmers. The chiffon draped to the floor elegantly, the wine color a stark difference against the light-colored carpet of your room. The material separated into two pieces on the skirt's right half, the slit of fabric combining again mid-thigh. Hugging perfectly to your waist, the dress's bodice was dotted in tiny rhinestones of the same merlot hue. Today, you were taller than you usually were as well, your height being exaggerated about four inches by the heels you wore that were just a shade lighter than your skin. It was the first time you had seen yourself in something so elegant in a long time. Long enough that it was difficult to recognize yourself in the mirror. 

Tony was bright enough to not have the fundraiser at the Avengers compound. Having unknown faces in unfamiliar places was too precarious. Everyone who knew about the compound needed to be known and kept track of; otherwise, the team's lives would be put in jeopardy. He decided to hold it at a shockingly large banquet hall in New York City that had a stringent dress code. You could only imagine the cost. Luckily the price didn't bother him enough to hesitate on purchasing the team their formal attire for the evening. The fact that he had personally picked this dress out for you skeeved you out just a tad, but you had to admit, he had done an exceptional job. A billionaire knows what billionaires would like, you supposed. What better way of getting other billionaires to donate to charity than having America's heroes look their sharpest? 

"Well, well, well," Natasha crooned from the doorway, practically appearing out of thin air with a playful smile on her face. She had a bandage dress close to the color of yours but brighter, hugging her figure down to just below her knees. Tight sleeves extended from the deep v-neck, coating her arms in rich velvet. Her hair was expertly curled into thick and wide waves, auburn hair complimenting the color of her outfit. She looked stunning. "Who are you, and what have you done with (Y/N)?"

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, albeit the fact that you agreed with her. You fiddled with your dress's sleeve that ended just at the edge of your wrist. Although you knew how beautiful you looked, some part of you didn't feel like yourself in the dress. The way you were just allowed to be a part of such a prestigious group of individuals felt the slightest bit fraudulent. You were the newest. "I know," you said, glancing up at her. "I don't even look like myself."

Natasha knew you better than you thought she did. She stepped into the room, the sound of her own heels being muffled by the carpet. She put her hands on your shoulders gently, and you followed instinctually to face her. She took your wrist, folding back the thin sleeve a little, and repeated her actions on the other hand as well. "It's a part of the job," Natasha stated, steeling her face into the cold agent she was just for a second before softening her features again. "You're still saving lives. The funds from tonight are going to help the Sokovian victims for a long time." She smoothed her hands along the outside of your arms, checking you over before stepping back again. 

"But a dance?" you complained. "I'm an Avenger. I can't dance."

"It comes easier than you think. There's always some guy with an ego big enough to dance with a pretty girl."

"Oh? Does Bruce even have an ego?"

"Watch it," Natasha warned, a knowing smirk playing at her lips. "He's a scientist. They all do." She took a step back to admire how well you cleaned up, nodded, and walked back to the door frame. Her heels clicked against the metal of the bunker floors, and she turned around to face you. "The limo leaves in fifteen. You should finish up whatever you're doing." 

"Wait," you called as she turned her head to face you. "I guess Wanda's not coming tonight, then?"

"No," Natasha said solemnly. "This would have been too much for her." 

As the sight of Natasha grew dim down the corridor, you found yourself alone with your imagination once again. You had been formally invited to several different fundraisers before, but nothing entirely of this caliber. Thinking about it, it seemed you were the only one who had not attended a fancy party among the team. Natasha's words rang out in your head; it's a part of the job. Even the non-earthlings would be attending, and they've had their fair share of fancy parties, considering they were from royalty. Speaking of the brothers, you made a mental note to tell Natasha about Thor's plan to ask her to dance so she wasn't caught off guard. Even though she was the most confident one on the team (aside from Tony), she still was just as human as the rest of us. The image of it made you chuckle. Thor dancing with Natasha, what a sight that would be. But who would you dance with? The barren truth was that you had little idea what you were doing. 

You peaked in the mirror one last time, fixing your hair and wobbling on your heels to the door. The hard surface was easier to walk on, but still, it took you a second to catch your footing. It was nearing midday, so the sun was high, the compound windows fluttering with the speckled light of the leaves falling to the Earth. Fall in New York seemed to last longer than any other season, especially upstate. As you walked, you laced in a trial of a confident strut, swinging your hips with a little more intent than usual. It felt unnatural, so you stopped and continued down the halls to where the limousine was waiting for you. 

The clicking of your heels called to your attention as you stepped into the compound lobby through large double doors. The team was grouped in the center of the room, a stark (pun intended) difference from the maintenance crew and office outfits scattered amongst the room. The team was standing in a messy circle. However, most of them were carried off in their own conversations, their eyes occasionally darting up to scan their surroundings as a habit from years of training. Natasha was amongst them, catching your eye as you stepped through the doors. Her arms were crossed, the color of her dress complimenting the fiery shade of lipstick she had applied in the short time from when you had seen her.  You cleared your throat and smoothed out the front of your own, walking up to the cluster of agents. The closer you got, the harder your heart pounded. Although you weren't nervous around the team, you found yourself feeling a little out of place. The anxiety of how people would perceive you rushed around in your head, and suddenly, the dress felt all too tight. 

As Natasha's gaze caught your own, Bruce turned his head to follow her stare. His features softened upon seeing you, and he smiled. "(Y/N)," he said as you approached. "You look great."

You breathed a hollow laugh and dipped your head, your gait slowing a bit. "Thanks," you said with a small smile. Even though you had integrated yourself into the group, the feeling of isolation settled back into your bones as Bruce and Natasha resumed their conversation. You weren't offended, of course, but you knew that these types of things came effortlessly to them, and if they didn't, they didn't show it. The air of confidence radiating around every one of them was impressive, if not intimidating. Thor, Tony, Steve, and Natasha all had their natural certainty about them but were joined by the rest of the team in their outfit-encouraged assurance. You had to admit, you could understand why. The crew cleaned up remarkably well, and their actions mimicked the fancy quality of their clothes. Even Peter looked more confident than he usually did. Pepper, who was dressed in a brilliant blue sheath dress, adjusted the knot of his tie closer to his neck as Tony patted him on the back a little too hard and said something to him, but the insistent chatter in the broad space made it difficult to hear.  There was a chittering of laughter off to the side; Thor emphasized a particularly boisterous point with his arms as he told Clint, Steve, and Bucky a joke. But still, there was one person that, amidst the crowd, you still couldn't find.

"Do you guys know where Loki is?" You blurted out, accidentally interrupting Bruce in his relatively soft-spoken conversation. 

"Oh, um," Bruce turned his attention to you and lifted his head to scout the room. "He definitely came in before. He was one of the first people here." 

"Watch your six," Natasha said, nodding her head behind you. When you turned to look behind you, you saw Loki standing off to the left side of the room, leaning against the metal walls with his feet crossed and his hands in his pockets. His eyes were trained onto you, sending a chill down your spine. Well, maybe for reasons more than that. 

You hadn't ever seen Loki in anything other than his Asgardian armor and the business-casual clothing he wore. Loki had always stridden with an atmosphere of cockiness, his head held high and the same, characteristically impish grin set upon his lips. He hadn't strayed from it today, but the suit he wore put a little flutter in your chest. The suit and suede dress shoes together highlighted his lean frame and accentuated his height. Supposing you didn't know who he was, you could have incorrectly labeled him as one of the unusually handsome CEOs wandering the compound, waiting patiently for their meeting to start. The hair above his ears had been tied back into a flat-looking ponytail, the rest falling in thick whisps to his shoulders. With a signature flash of green embezzling his tie, he stood up straighter as you turned to approach him. 

The banquets and elegant celebrations that Loki and his brother had attended were practically no comparison to any of the parties Stark hosted. He, not unlike yourself, had never participated in the gaudier end of the billionaire's events. Even back in Asgard, Loki was never really one for parties unless they were his own, and even those festivities felt somewhat burdensome. Since his destruction of New York, it had been challenging to find the time and place for Loki to join, not that he even wanted to. There was always the risk of being recognized by the general public. Still, Stark had assured him that this was a ball for a select number of individuals and that the danger of being exposed was significantly reduced. Did it actually assure him? Of course not. Was there a reason he was going? Only one. 

Conjuring up an outfit after completely ignoring the one that Stark had paid for, Loki decided he would get to the lobby earlier than the others. It was a way to get away from the hustling business of the compound halls, the lobby significantly less busy during this time of day. It would only be a matter of time before the crowd and the rest of the Avengers had shown, but it was nice to have some peace and quiet. As a janitor eyed him, wheeling his ridiculously squeaky cart from hall to hall, Loki found a bench to sit down on and crossed his legs, his mind falling into a semi-aware space. You had mentioned the other day that you hadn't attended any events such as this one. While that was not shocking, he found himself curious about what you have done. Had you ever danced with someone before? Were you the type of person to jump at the call of the buffet, or would you wait until the line had died down? The thought of you dancing seemed to cloud his mind entirely. More specifically, the thought of you dancing with him. The idea that you would dance with someone else burned in his stomach, and his upper lip curled a bit as he swallowed his irritation. He found himself disgruntled at the fact that his chest would tighten as the image of you looking up at him during a dance swelled his mind. 

As the Avengers began shuffling into the room in pairs, Loki nodded to some of them and stood to have a brief conversation with his brother before he stepped away to speak with Steve. The sight of Earth's warriors dressed in outfits far above their complexity of work was a bit impressive, but as Agent Romanoff stepped into the room, he felt a little disheartened, having fully expected you to come in after her. A few tense moments of bitter disappointment followed, but as the double doors to the main room opened again, his dejection washed away as quickly as it had grown. 

With your head held high, your hair falling delicately to your shoulders, he realized for a moment that he had never seen you with your hair down. Nor had he ever seen you dressed up. The sophisticated dress gave you a dangerous look as if you played the part of a spy even in your downtime. The dress fluttered as it caught the draft of your pace, highlighting just how well the bodice conformed to you. You walked with intent, clutching a little handbag close to your abdomen as you kept your eyes to the ground on your way to greet Natasha. You weren't always this timorous. In fact, in the time he had known you, he grew to understand how outspoken you were, a trait that Loki was appreciative of. Even though he was especially good at reading disturbances, it was always better when people were outright with it. Less time wasted, he would say to himself. 

Loki had decided that he would play a subconscious game with you, his eyes following your movements. He watched you tuck your hair behind your ear and determined that he wouldn't be the one to move. He would let you find him, let you make the first move. This was a simple game, of course. A game you didn't know you were playing. A game that subtly lets Loki read you a bit better. Loki ultimately won as Natasha locked eyes with him, her lips curling into a sly smile. She nodded in his direction, and you subsequently turned around, replacing his attention back with yours. For a second, you continued your ongoing tête-à-tête, but he found himself pleased that your eyes never left his. He made no move as he leaned against the wall and no inclination that he intended to do so. You took the bait and said a final word to Natasha, walking the twenty feet that separated you.  

The closer you got to Loki, the more he seemed to sparkle. Whether or whether not it was an illusion put on by clever tricks of magic slipped across your mind but did not stop your breath from catching in your throat. You swallowed a bit and slowed your pace. 

"I'm surprised to see you here," you said.

"Trust me, darling, not more surprised than I am," Loki stood up straight and let his gaze cast over the group of Avengers. "I've never been one for these things." 

"Neither have I," your voice lowered and followed his eyes. "Are you worried about people or just...party stuff?" 

He scoffed, "If I were perturbed about the opinion of others, I wouldn't be standing in front of you."

"Fair."

The slam of car doors outside caught both of your attention, and Tony began to talk a bit louder, shuffling his way to the front of the group to start to lead them outside. You looked at each other before slowly turning around, following the scuffle from a distance. Loki's finger's laced together in front of him, and you clutched your handbag close to you. 

"And what of you?" Loki asked. 

"Huh?" 

"The party. Are you nervous about the people or...something else?"

You smiled a bit, dipping your chin down to your chest. "It's a fundraising ball. I haven't even been to one of the smaller fundraisers that Tony's had."

Loki pursed his lips, catching sight of Tony as he stepped into a long limousine. The wide-open door of the car lit faintly with the dull luster of LED lights inside the cabin. Sam stepped inside and walked with a hunched back to the right, disappearing out of view. Loki opened his mouth but hesitated, debating if relating to you was the right thing to do. "If it consoles you at all," he justified, more to himself than you. "Neither have I."

You looked up at him, catching the way his jaw tightened. He could feel your eyes on him, but his ego kept him from down. The crowd slowly shrank smaller and smaller as you stepped outside, eventually being ushered into the limousine as well. The

raw air nipped at your ankles for a fraction of a second before you stepped into the car. The inside of the limo was decorated in sharp-looking, matte black upholstery. The dim red light of the LED strips overhead cast a faint glow over the group's heads, illuminating both your and Natasha's dresses. In front of the seats that bordered half of the car, an expensive-looking bar twinkled with freshly clean glassware and several bottles of champagne coated in gold foil, a white 'Louis Roederer' spelled out on the label.  Loki followed close behind you as you squatted to sit closest to Thor, Loki grunting uncomfortably as he squat-walked to your right. The leather cushions were softer than you would have expected, and you sank into the seats, both of the brother's arms positioned above yours in a feeble attempt to be comfortable. Loki chuckled at your squished look and reached over to wiggle a finger into your side. You jumped, blushed, and swatted at Loki, all in that order. 

"Sorry, love," he chuckled. "You make it too easy."

"Shut up." 

Tony spoke to the driver about something, muffled by the chatter of the others. When he was done, the window to the driver slid shut, and the car shuddered to a start. The shift in the car's momentum pulling off put Thor's weight against you and your weight onto Loki. For a second, you caught a whiff of a warm, woodsy scent as your shoulder pressed into his side. Was Loki wearing cologne?

"Jesus, Stark, you couldn't have made these seats any bigger?" Bucky groaned from in between Steve and Sam. Sam frowned and shoved his arm above Bucky's, letting out an exasperated sigh. 

"I feel like a sardine," Sam said, frustratedly nodding.

"Well, you smell like one too," Bucky quipped. 

"Really, man? Is that what we're doing? Why can't--" 

"You shouldn't have brought up that--" 

"Alright, boys," Natasha scolded. "Enough." 

Their argument died down, replaced by dejected scowls and tiny shoves. It reminded you of brothers, and part of you wondered what they would look like as brothers. It wasn't difficult to imagine Bucky as an older brother figure, especially with his and Steve's past. However, Bucky had the identical 'protective older sibling' energy that Sam seemed to harbor, the more you got to know them both. Those energies pitted against each other produced snarky attitudes and semi-aggressive taunting, a clear example being what you had just witnessed. 

"Ah, it's not so bad!" Thor exclaimed, his shoulder squishing both you and Peter into the seat. Now that you looked at it, it only looked like Tony, Pepper, Natasha, and Bruce were sitting comfortably, each having the correct amount of space to breathe. 

"Easy for you to say," you jested, your voice straining as you struggled to hitch yourself above Thor's arm. "You're the biggest one in here." 

"Is that (Y/N)?" Peter's voice called from the other side of your human obstacle. As Thor chuckled, Peter did his best to lean his head forward, looking for you. "I didn't even know you were in here!" 

"No, well," you grunted. "I guess you wouldn't."

You could hear the light tinkling of the glassware being toyed with. Out of your sight, Tony poured champagne in Pepper's glass then passed the bottle to Natasha. Tony bared his teeth and frowned in a guilty expression, doing his best to ignore the complaints from around the vehicle. 

You laughed humorlessly and pushed against Thor's arm. "This is ridiculous." 

Although Loki was not particularly bothered by your complaining, he found himself becoming a bit restless, cramped in a small space with a group of his former enemies. "If you're going to fuss so much, perhaps my brother would assist me in boosting your mood," he played. Loki watched with a grin as your face morphed from annoyed to sheepish in a fraction of a second. As if you couldn't be forced more into the seat, you sank a little. 

"What, do you have any road-trip games we can play, Mr. Loki?" Peter asked before Thor could speak. 

"Yes, dear boy, it's called the quiet game. I believe you can guess the rules," Loki quipped, resulting in Peter letting out an awkward, breathy laugh. 

Peter cast a look that could only be described as 'what the hell is his problem' at Tony for a quick second before getting distracted by a town sign that the car passed on the road. He was particularly intrigued by the little town called 'Hope,' saying it sounded like something from a comic book. Unfaithful to your predicament, the Town of Hope only seemed to mock your circumstance. 

Loki looked down at you, lodged between his bicep and his brother's side. The tiny amount of space made it near impossible for both your and Thor's bodies to fit adequately. Hence, Thor's arm hung over half of your body, effectively smothering you. Loki watched how you occasionally renewed your spouts of energy, pushing against his brother's arm, trying to position yourself in the seat that left you the slightest amount of breathing room. The hand closest to Loki's body was relatively free of constraint, although his frame was still packed tightly against you. His brother's lack of spatial awareness was significantly less refined than others and infuriating to his victims, whether it was at Loki's expense or not. You were quickly very conscious of the limited amount of room you had to yourself and even more so of the fact that there was a metaphysical timer ticking down until you reached your destination. Your stomach dropped a bit as you realized you were driving into New York City. That had to at least be a four-hour drive, more if you hit traffic. 

"Tony," you said in a strangled voice. "How long is the drive, anyway?" 

Tony frowned and looked up, counting numbers in his head. "Give or take three and a half hours. Don't be the first person that has to pee on a trip. No one likes that person." 

"What? Since when?" Bruce asked Tony, a hint of offense lacing his voice. 

"Since I said so. Now! Just a heads up: the hotel is right across the street from the venue, so whenever the fun turns into an old lady's tea party, you can skedaddle if you want. Just don't leave until eight. I promised a few donors that we'd be there until eight." The finality in Tony's voice left no room for discussion. Truthfully, a party that lasted from four in the afternoon to eight wasn't the worst thing you've ever heard, although a bit long when you thought about the grand scope of four hours. How much can happen in four hours? 

Your thoughts were cut off guard by Loki's fingers squeezing the muscle on your knee. You jumped and stomped the foot of your assaulted leg, making Loki chuckle. 

"I was getting at something before I was interrupted," He said. "No matter. I was simply going to ask my brother if he would like to assist me in making this car ride a little more bearable." Loki's eyes left yours for a brief moment to catch a side-eyed glance from his brother. It was challenging to see Thor's face from where you sat, but you saw a glimmer of a smile tug at the corner of his lip before he turned his head away. 

"Loki, back off," you said, but before you had a chance to readjust your position for the thirteenth time, the weight of Thor's arm against your chest doubled. You debated biting Thor's arm for a moment to teach him a lesson about personal space but decided it wouldn't be the best course of action. "Thor, buddy, come on," you smacked his forearm a few times, elbowing Loki a bit in the process. You wondered if the other Avengers were watching your predicament, and simply the thought of the other's eyes on you made you blush. 

Though the weight had yet to decrease, Thor's head turned away from you, and you heard his voice catch a conversation separate from your situation. Ignoring the sensation of panic rooting itself in your chest, you pushed against Thor's elbow and hoped for some consequence. Instead, you felt his muscles tighten as he pressed against your hands. Something clicked. He was doing this on purpose. 

Loki had been all but silently watched you the entire time during your struggle. Your hair flipped a bit to the side, some whisps clinging to the color on your lips. Your posture had stayed as exceptionally straight, and poise as you usually held it, something impressive for his brother being practically on top of you. Even so, both of your arms were pinned above Thor's bicep, leaving you precariously exposed. Loki bit the corner of his lip, his stomach tightening at the thought of Thor being so close to you. Too close to you. He caught himself in his thinking and hastily glanced around the room to see if anyone could see his shameful envy but trained his vision right back to you. He had not seen Natasha's eyes watching the interaction, a sly smile vanishing from her face as she returned to her own escapades. Loki had not been honest with himself about the nature of his feelings. Exacerbated by the immensely seductive and threatening air of confidence the dress appeared to give you, Loki found himself needing to swallow a lump in his throat whenever his eyes caught your body. You were truly radiant. Your gaze matched his for a fraction of a second, and your eyes widened, a timid smile adorning your face. His heart fluttered, but he morphed his expression to display a cocky grin. He leaned down to you, not a very far distance, but still enough to be uneasily close to your ear.

"Forgive me, but it looks like you're in somewhat of a bind. You might want to be careful, or someone might make use of it," the god of mischief said, pinching your side a bit between his thumb and two fingers. You jumped and coughed to cover up a surprised laugh.

Looking up at Loki's killer smile sent shivers down your spine, and you rapidly became aware of just how much leverage the brothers had over you. Knowing that the brothers had done something like this to you before meant that they wouldn't hesitate to do it again, and that thought put you on a very steep edge. 

Loki noticed the way your eyes scanned the room as your crisis deepened. Although he kept the smirk on his face, he faltered. It wasn't difficult to tell that if your so-called weakness were to be exposed, your anxiety would lay in the judgment of others. Any other day, he wouldn't have cared much about it and would have tickled you to pieces then and there. Now, although his ego was too great to admit it, he was nervous to touch you. You seemed delicate. Deadly but fragile. You were a toxin sitting atop a high shelf, contained within the bounds of thin glass walls. 

And he was intoxicated. 

Loki cleared his throat and retracted his hands. Thor eyed him skeptically and released some of the pressure on his arm but still held firm, even though you protested and pinched him. Loki's gaze flitted from you to the surrounding vehicle and fell back to Thor. The brothers gave an almost imperceptible nod, a mutual understanding that only could be understood by blood. 

Thor shifted and took a deep breath, continuing a conversation that you had failed to listen to. "Well, we all know that childhood was not the easiest for all of us," he said with a sad smile. 

"I don't know, I had a pretty easy-going life as a kid," Bucky shrugged. "It wasn't until Uncle Sam over here decided to join the ranks that shit hit the fan." 

"Come on, Buck," Steve said, rolling his eyes with a cynical smile. "It's a damn good thing I decided to join or--"

"Yeah, you wouldn't have been able to keep those bullies off your back, huh?" 

"Ah, shut up." Steve shook his head, and Bucky chuckled. 

"You sound like a fine pair," Thor smiled warmly and gestured to them. "Loki and I growing up were usually at odds, but there were plenty of fond memories as well. Can you think of anything, brother?" Thor's specific emphasis on his brother's name caught your attention, and as it dawned on you that they had hatched some sort of plan, your stomach rippled with nerves. 

Loki smiled and dipped his chin in a blatant imitation of humility to you and Thor, but it was a "genuine" reflection of the past to anyone else. Loki softly chuckled and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees and hands animating his story by his face. 

"Asgard is unique in its ability to cultivate some of the Nine Realms' most potent healing fruits and medicinal herbs," He began. "Fields filled with trees bearing fruits of every color, all gleaming brilliantly as if they were made of gold. Thor and I would play with the other children in these fields. One day, we came across this grove of apple trees that we hadn't seen before, and naturally, we got curious. I dared Thor to eat one, and he did--"

"Loki, tell the story right," Thor scolded. "You held a knife to my throat and threatened me to eat it."

Loki rolled his eyes. "Yes, well, either way, he ate the apple. Once Thor had proven that the apples were safe, we all began climbing the trees and eating them. Little did we know, those apples were enchanted with a compliance spell. Asgard laces these fruit into particularly stubborn prisoners' diets to calm them down and make the truth more pliable. We must have eaten two trees' worth of fruit. The rest of the day, we told stories under the shade of these mystical apple trees. Our dreams were filled with fantasies beyond your wildest imaginations. In all sincerity, I found the dreams to be the most enjoyable. Days and nights passed us by, but we paid little attention. We were so engrossed in our stories that we began crafting our own when we finally ran out of them. The elders came looking for us after three days."

"Oh, were they ever mad," Thor commented.

"Quite. Not only were we missing for a substantial amount of time, but we had successfully devoured Asgard's entire supply of some of its most potent weapons. We were none the wiser." 

"Aye, and it lasted longer than just that day as well. Brother, I'm sure you remember what happened to your magic." Thor waggled his eyebrows and earned an eye roll in response. 

"It was an embarrassment," Loki sneered. 

"Loki was caught in Odin's chambers by none other than Odin himself. What were you doing, again? Trying to steal some, er...chest plate or...?"

"For your information, it was the same armor that Odin bore in the Æsir–Vanir War. It would have sold for a glorious sum." Loki paused and glanced down at you for a fraction of a moment before looking back to the group. "And the only reason he caught me was because those damned apples prevented me from using my magic or being dishonest. I told him right then and there what I was doing. From that day, I vowed to never lie again. You can tell how well that exactly planned out."

There were a few scattered laughs and sardonic scoffs resounding through the cabin. At this moment, Loki sat up straight and, without taking his eyes off the group, reached over to your knee (which were well concealed by Thor's legs) and began to squeeze the muscle above your knee-cap. Though his hands were over the fabric of your dress, the material was thin and did little to protect you. You jumped and held your breath, kicking out at the little shocks traveling up your leg. Giggles immediately began bubbling in your stomach, and you broke from sheer surprise, laughing and pushing harder against Thor. Loki withdrew his unseen assault and sat back, feigning surprise at your outburst. 

"My, agent, I knew I was funny, but I didn't expect such a boisterous reaction," he said, falling back into his seat with a frustratingly smug smile. 

That bastard. He had waited for the perfect time to enact his little scheme and still managed to embarrass you without giving away your secret. Part of you wondered if you should be grateful that he did it out of the other's sight, but the other more defensive part of you was busied attempting to form an excuse for your eruption. As you glanced up at his devious gaze, you caught a certain softness in his eyes and decided against bantering at this moment. Not only did he have a significant advantage over you, but the dress did little to aid your full scope of movements. 

"Oh, you know me, Loki," you said, half sarcastic, half strained. "Always a great sense of humor." 

From that moment on, the car ride became a little easier to bear. Loki's story had sparked another conversation amidst the group and Peter, who emphatically told stories about his childhood before the spider bite. Clint mumbled a joke that you could barely hear, and everyone besides you and Loki laughed. Thor had since removed the weight from his arm, and you figured whatever tricks they had in mind had ended with the last effort. However, as the indistinct jokes made their way through the car, an empty, hollow feeling filled your stomach. 

While Loki couldn't exactly make out what was being said either, he wasn't paying enough attention to care. His eyes watched as your eyes fell to your hands in your lap, twisting a steel ring around your right ring finger. You fiddled with it absentmindedly, your smile twitching every few moments upwards as you listened halfheartedly to different conversations.  All of the Avengers had a band similar to this one - almost like a mark of loyalty, Tony had handed them out at one meeting, flaunting the tracking devices and other expensive gadgets embedded into the metal. Loki had also received a ring but decided to keep it in his pocket-dimension and out of sight. It felt more like a symbol of status rather than a generous gift, and while he was grateful to be acknowledged as part of the team, he was still too stubborn to display it. 

There was a distant look in your eye, and the pauses of silence rippling through conversations exposed your gloomy frown. Seeing you so downtrodden stirred something in Loki, almost to the point of anger, but softer. Before he had a chance to stop himself, he reached his hand over to your lap and draped his fingers gently over yours. 

Loki's hand felt cold against yours, and it pulled you from your thoughts. 

If the world had stopped spinning or the crew had stopped their chatter, you wouldn't have noticed.

Some hours later, you had barely noticed as the car drove into New York City. What gave it away was Peter's excitement about finally being home. The traffic gradually increased, and the roads narrowed, moving under bridges and through tunnels you had once been able to recognize. It had been so long since returning to the city that you surprised yourself when you knew the name of the street you were driving on. Everywhere your eyes touched, billboards illuminated your vision and advertised some show, product, or insurance that you couldn't have cared less about. These things all seemed so minuscule in the grand scheme of...well, everything. 

From the time you entered the city, it took about forty-five minutes until the limousine pulled over, and it halted to its final stop. Tony wrapped on the shaded window behind him, and it slid open. Holding a dollar bill through his pointer and middle fingers, he slipped it through the gap, and the glass subsequently slid shut. 

Tony clapped. "Quick few rules. If you're going to drink, fine, but I don't want my sponsors knowing how slobbered some superhumans can actually get. Just don't puke on anyone. Be nice to them, please, okay? They already did the speeches, so all we have to do is mingle. And lastly, don't accept any drinks from strangers. Alright, kiddies, let's get out there."

The outside of the venue was nothing to sneeze at. Through a vast, almost chapel-looking stained glass window, you could see the silhouette of what looked like to be a crystal chandelier, giving a mysterious and intimidatingly elegant look to the brick structure. The buildings in New York City always looked cramped together, but all the facilities held some variant of the same story within their walls. A writer desperate the find their meaning in a studio apartment; a fancy restaurant or hotel to attract particularly well-endowed travelers (though the owner himself is almost always an outsider); the coffee shop or corner store that only a few people visit in a given day; the audio and radio shops desirous of drawing in any customer in a given radius for cheap supplies. They were all the same. Yet somehow, even amongst everyone who held the duplicate titles of "trying-to-survive-the-world-on-their-own," you felt isolated. Your job put you on a pedestal made up of dead humans and aliens alike, and simply being invited to a party of this magnitude felt selfish. 

Loki was the first to step out of the car, as he was closest to the door. He didn't wait for the driver to open the door for him and opted to let himself out of the vehicle. You followed suit and hunched your body as Thor lifted his arm. The brisk evening air of the city clutched your ankles, and you quivered, letting your heels support your weight on the concrete sidewalk. Stepping on the grates of the sidewalks would guarantee your heels to catch them and would result in a stumble, so you decided to linger closer to the building as the others stepped out of the car as well. While the temperature outside wasn't completely unbearable, with the thin clothing covering only the necessary parts of you, it did nothing to conceal your shivers. 

Loki stepped over to you as the other began their hustle out of the automobile, his hands in his jacket pocket, his chin dipped a bit down. He took his place parallel to you and watched as Bruce shut the door of the limousine behind him. He caught the eye of a few inquisitive bystanders who roamed the sidewalks but found himself paying them little mind. In all the time Loki had gotten to know your traits and personality, this was the timidest he had seen you. Your arms were tightly crossed, and your gaze locked on your teammates, occasionally glancing at the decorated individuals making their way up the steps to the ballroom. Goosebumps were coating the exposed part of your shoulders. You were trembling. 

"It might have been wise to bring a coat," he commented with a teasing smile. 

You humorlessly chuckled. "We'll only be outside for a few more minutes. I've handled worse."

Knowing he would get nowhere with you, he sighed and analyzed your face, which gave no hints as to breaking your stubbornness. He sighed and pulled his hand from his pocket, waving it in the air for a brief moment. The air seemed to respond to his movements, and before you had any chance to protest, your shoulder was shrouded in a green light that traveled up your arms, leaving a cream-colored fabric that fell just above your hips. The cloak's collar was made of an invaluable feeling fur that hid your neck from the elements of the autumn air, the wool of the coat protecting your painted fingers from the breeze.

At first, you had gasped, startled at the sudden weighted warmth that enveloped your shoulders, but looking at Loki with his smug smile only dissuaded you from scolding him. In reality, it was dangerous for him to use his magic in the middle of so many people, but you knew that he understood that risk. You turned your head towards the steps of the building (mainly to hide the blush that found itself on the apples of your cheeks) but found yourself drawn to the front doors of the venue. Endless people flowed in and out of the building, and you wondered how many people would be attending the part for its entire duration. 

"You know," you said, turning your gaze back to Loki. "It's not safe to use your magic so publicly."

He chuckled. "Perhaps. Maybe this world is more used to magic than you know." 

"Maybe."

"Magic presents itself in different ways on Midgard. You Midgardians are quite easily fooled."

You hummed. "I wouldn't say that. I think we just...enjoy the mysterious." 

"As do I. I don't mean foolish as in idiotic. I mean that Midgardians tend to be oblivious to the magic that surrounds them daily. An answered prayer possibly, or a strange coincidence...love." 

You turned to him to catch his gaze, but his eyes fell somewhere else. "Are you calling me 'love,' or are you saying that love is magic?" 

"Love itself is not magic, darling. Love is more of an infatuation riddled with good intentions and heavy sentiments. But...love does have elements of magic if you care to look. When two people catch each other's eyes from across the room, would you call that an odd coincidence?" 

"Probably." 

"Remember what I just told you about coincidences?" 

Before you allowed yourself to say anything, a particularly disheveled-looking man on a boisterous business call came barrelling down the sidewalk. You wouldn't have noticed him at all if it weren't for the fact that he had plowed into Loki. Loki's stance held firm as the man side-checked him, and for a second, your heart caught in your throat. You were more scared for the man's consequences, but Loki's hands never left his pockets, and his stern gaze never left the man's face. Uttering a typical but slightly intimidated New York "watch it" over his shoulder as he stomped away, the stranger made no effort to continue his encounter. 

"Would you call that a coincidence?" You laughed. 

Loki shook his head and rolled his eyes, watching the man as he shuffled down the sidewalk. "Perception doesn't seem to be one of Midgard's strong suits either." His eyes bounced from different billboards plastered on buildings, each of them shifting their advertisements within a few seconds of each other. You smiled as one of the billboards faded to a bright red rotating 'A,' the Avengers logo spinning behind snippets of your teammates mid-action. At one point, you saw a flash of Loki and you fighting side by side together on a mission that you were assigned in Bolivia a few months in the past. You nudged Loki and nodded to the advertisement just as his face faded from the camera and into a bright yellow Broadway display.

"It makes me wonder how they got that clip of us," you pondered and watched as Sam's jacket fluttered from the air as he walked through the door to the ball. The corner of your lip found its way in between your teeth, and you took a deep breath. "I guess we should start thinking about going inside, huh?"

Loki shrugged and tilted his head. "I'm quite content being outside, actually." 

"I know. Honestly, me too." 

Loki glanced down at you, catching the flash of anxiety that crept over your eyes. Hesitantly, he put his hand on your shoulder and met your gaze as you looked up at him. "If it's any solace to you, may I accompany you tonight?" 

'Accompany me' were the first words to leave your lips, your head desperately trying to wrap itself around the idea of you being Loki's date for the night. Was it even a date? Or was this just a company outing? A rather big company outing, of course, but as you saw the sincerity in his eyes, a soft smile replaced your shocked expression. Your heart swelled at the thought of having someone by your side for the duration of the dance, though something about it made you a bit apprehensive. Having a friend at parties such as these was a welcome gift, even though said 'friend' was actually a literal God. "I'd appreciate that," you said. 

Loki's appearance lifted into a bright smile, and he dipped his chin down, the same grin on his lips. Without a word, he put his hand on the small of your back, gently leading you to the bottom of the steps. Even with the magically made cloak protecting you, you could feel the soft pressure of his hand pressing into your skin. It was a welcome touch, albeit a disarming one. 

The life you had led thus far would never have prepared you for such a moment. The constant training, the heat of battle, sweat, blood, and tears donated haphazardly to your life's work held no moment that taught you how to fight your nerves. There had been missions where you would have to imitate a flirty waitress or even the woman on the date, but they were all moments lost in time. You swallowed as the bouncer opened the door for you, Loki following behind. 

The double doors opened into a large banquet hall, more extensive than you had expected from the cramped brick appearance. A piano player was swaying back and forth in his seat in the far right corner of the room, dressed in a full tuxedo and a corsage that looked somehow more expensive than what you imagined his services could have cost. You wondered if he wore the same outfit every night but were caught off guard by a woman in a black vest offering to take your cloak. You politely declined and thanked her as she moved on to repeat her offer to the pair who entered behind you. A quartet of stringed instruments crescendoed in the same corner of the room as the grand piano, triggering a few dancing couples to dip their torsos towards the ground robotically and synchronously. If this place was anything, it was elegant. Everything sparkled, from the frosted look of the dance floor, which took up around half of the room, to a rich man's hairless head buying himself a glass of wine; there was nary a thing that wasn't shrouded in gleams. You tugged the cloak closer to your chest, your red-fingered gloves peeking out slightly over the cover's fur. 

The white marble of the ball clicked against your heels, the sound barely making a dent in the noise amidst the tinkling of glass and chatter of braggarts. The crystal chandelier hung high above your heads, much grander than you had been able to see through the window. The wall adjacent to the window was coated in a mirage of colors, gasoline and water appearing to collide against the cream-colored wall; the chandelier reflected the city's light onto everything you couldn't touch. There was red tapestry with golden trims hanging from every ceiling corner, the drapes on the upstairs windows matching the same hue. Several large round tables with chairs encompassing them took up the other half of the room, each of the mahogany pieces of furniture coupled with red upholstery. The tables were covered with egg-shell linens, with varying-sized candles and fancy mints as the centerpieces. Behind the mass of tables, an extensive buffet accompanied by a bar with several hard-working attendants bustles with life. 

Surrounding the room's perimeter, pedestals displaying different art pieces, each with their own strange haecceity, sat behind a red velvet rope. It could have been a joke if some of these entrepreneurs were smart enough to understand it. Priceless pieces of work, hand-sculpted or painted through painstaking hours, in a room where no one will buy them because they already have too much but are the only ones financially capable of doing so. The rope does little to stop anyone, mainly because no one needs to be stopped. You wondered how many of these Tony owned. Several people waltzed towards you, and Loki guided you out of the way before your staring had caused an accident. 

You glanced up and hooked your fingers around the crook of Loki's arm. The gesture was customary for those attending a party, you told yourself, although your heart began to race. A work party, with work friends, for work-related business. He was warm. You couldn't know if you imagined it, but as you brought your other hand to hold Loki's arm, you could have sworn you felt his elbow stiffen. As you watched his fingers ball into a fist, wonted for a nobleman's hold, you smirked. 

"If I didn't know better, I would have mistaken you for a gentleman," you teased, squeezing his elbow. 

Loki fought the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. He leaned close to you. "I'll remind to you watch your tone, darling. You wouldn't want me to make a show of you in public, now would you?"

"Loki," you swatted at him, and he laughed. "God, you know, one day I'm going to get you back for everything."

"Hah! Do you surely believe I would let that happen? That will be the day where I will personally bring you well within inches of your life. You're better off wiping that thought from your consciousness." 

Though your stomach flipped at his threat, you bumped your eyebrows. "Why? Can't handle it?" 

"My, you must have a death wish tonight." 

"Or, you're covering up the fact that you're ticklish." 

Truthfully, it was the first time the thought had come to mind and the first thing you blurted out, but as you saw how Loki's features fell and landed on you with a cold stare, you knew you had discovered something you shouldn't have. Deciding to dig your grave further, you rubbed at his side lightly with your wrist, but he made no move to indicate it bothered him.  

Loki scoffed and shrugged. "You assumed incorrectly, love." 

"Oh, please. I'm not even trying," you said. "I'll have my chance eventually." 

"Don't be so certain." 

Loki led you around crowded tables and dancers to the table designated to the team, some with plates of food and a few others scattering themselves around the room to make small talk. Bruce nodded at Natasha and pushed out his seat, standing up and walking towards the bar, although an iced whiskey idled in front of his chair. Loki pulled out a chair for you, and you thanked him before he sat himself down as well. The party felt smaller in this quiet corner of the room, and you couldn't make out if the feeling in your gut was a good or bad one. On the one hand, the swarm of people dancing obstructed your view of the musicians, something that wouldn't have commonly troubled others; as a spy, the best advantage was being aware of your surroundings. Crowds were easy to get lost in, chaotic enough to cover damage, loud enough to

"Hey," Natasha's cold fingers on the top of yours yanked you from your thoughts. As you looked at her, you caught a flash of concern contorting her face before she let her features soften. "Would you mind going to get me a glass of wine? I sent Bruce over there a few minutes ago, but he's nerding out with one of the sponsors," Natasha nodded to her left. As though on queue, the elderly sponsor conversing about what sounded like microbiology cackled with glee. 

You took a breath and nodded, patting her hand with a smile as you stood. You didn't notice, but as Loki stepped up to follow you, Natasha put her hand up. Tentatively, he lowered himself back into his seat, watching as you regretfully were pulled into the boisterous conversation alone. What you knew about microbiology, Loki had no clue, but your confident air could have fooled the most observant of personalities. Not him, of course. 

The scowl that replaced Natasha's gentle smile meant business; it was not difficult to know that. What could she have possibly wanted with him, Loki wondered. He sat back in his seat and crossed his arms. Their body language was not too far off from synchronized, though Loki's was easily more curious rather than the agent's criticality. 

Natasha pulled the whiskey from Bruce's placemat, her nails clinking against the glass as she took a sip. Her icy stare left Loki as she looked away for a brief moment to align the cup's base precisely into the water-logged imprint it had left on the table. 

"What are your intentions with her?" The agent asked bluntly. 

"I beg your pardon?" Loki's face scrunched into an offended glare. The audacity this woman must have had to inquire about his relationships. His private life. Although he found himself putting on a defensive exterior, the energy it had taken to suppress his affections for you had grown exponentially in the past few months; he knew that as a fact.   

"Save it. I've seen the way you look at each other. You'd have to be blind not to pick up on it." Natasha smirked. 

"I suppose you'd be the expert in such things?" Loki challenged, targeting a sore spot in the agent's psyche.

"Cool it," she warned, leaning her elbows onto the table. "I'm not threatening you. Though if you hurt her, I may just have to."

"I believe that is a threat, agent."

"I just want to know what your intentions are." 

"I have no intentions," He paused, glimpsing at your considerate smile amid your conversation. "You sent her away on purpose," Loki concluded, tilting his chin towards his chest. "You didn't want her to be a part of this conversation." 

"No," Natasha confirmed. "I don't care if you admit your feelings or not. It's not my business. But you should know that she's not going to admit to hers." 

Loki debated on disguising his feelings once more but realized its futility. His front had long been exposed. His eyebrows furrowed. "How could you possibly know that?"

"She has a long history. It's not my story to tell, but," She pushed herself away from the table and stood up. "If you honestly have no intentions, then you're already playing with her feelings."

"I am by no means-" 

"I'm just going to cut to the chase," Natasha said with finality in her tone. "If you hurt her, I won't hesitate to kill you where you stand." Without another word nor sound, Natasha slipped away into the crowd of people who danced not ten feet from where the table was set, her near-empty glass of whiskey being the only reminder that she had been there at all. 

The accusation had left a bitter taste in Loki's mouth. The fact that Natasha had been able to read him so quickly... the fact that he let himself be that easy to read, it stirred itself into a large knot in Loki's head. Exponentially, he began to realize just how effortless it was to be softened by one's time on Midgard. Earth had made him weak, and the god scowled at the thought. His brother had gone through the same sort of conundrum when he was first outcasted from Asgard, and Loki had mocked him for it. Ironic, considering there had been a time where Loki protected the one his brother loved. 

Could he even call this love - this rogue infatuation with you? What was love but the fascination with someone who makes you feel at home? Or was it that he had just never been able to experience what love actually stirred inside of its victims? Loki had known several individuals in his life that he had been romantically attracted to, most of them immortal, and yet something was disastrously captivating about you. His head was on a pully system. Loki had been raised a prince; he had danced with many maidens, and all of those maidens he had consequently rejected. Now, here comes this mortal who fights for his enemies, and he loses his speech at your mere presence.  Prior, Loki supposed. What had happened? The second his thoughts would wander, the string wrapped around his emotions would stretch taut, and he would be brought back to the same distracting ideas of your delineation. 

The music crescendoed again, a few brass instruments holding the melody as the crowd responded in time. Some of them even jumped, a select few of them being caught and lowered back to the floor by their partner's hands around their waists. It certainly wasn't the first time he had thoughts like these, his hands holding your body close to his. While these fantasies held true to their name, there were always brief moments in history where fantasies teetered on the edge of being truthful. This was one of those moments, where flashes of magic slip through cracks and crevices, stealing its way into naive hearts. Before, he had described to you that your world had been filled with magic, and part of him wondered if you believed him. A significantly smaller portion of him deliberated if you believed in fairytales.

A bartender ornamented in an obscene amount of brightly colored pins slid a glass of deep red wine to you from across the bar, and you nodded at her with a friendly smile, returning to your conversation with Bruce and the elderly sponsor. Now that he looked at it, the man who conversed with you was not elderly by any means. His hair was thinning and gray, his hands adorned with at least six gleaming golden rings per hand. The man's fingers hung loosely by his side, your dress just blocking Loki's view of the man's jewelry. Loki scoffed and picked up the glass of whiskey, downing it in one gulp. A child could have guessed that Earth's finest liquors weren't enough to even touch an Asgardian's alcohol tolerance, but he felt the need to have something in his stomach other than his nerves. 

The man reached around behind his chair, stealing peaks at your face as the conversation continued. Something about his body language disturbed Loki, mainly because he had seen the same impish behavior in himself once upon a time. The man lifted his fingers and reached to the rear of your dress, gathering his hand and pinching your behind. 

Loki didn't have the wits about him to see you backhand the man yourself, effectively taking care of the problem without anyone's assistance. However, as the man reached up to grab his face where your hand had left a blazing red mark, Loki gripped the man's wrist and tore him from his seat, flinging him onto the ground. In less than a second, Loki had thrown the man onto the carpeted floor with a slamming thud and stepped his left heel onto the offending wrist, holding the man's other arm as he stood. The conniption had captivated the attention of a small crowd, some dancers slowing their movements and hushing their voices to eavesdrop on the disarray. The sponsor cried out and grunted against Loki's weight as he heavied himself. 

"I'll make you an offer," Loki snarled as he pressed his weight down into the man's wrist, making the sponsor splutter and curse beneath him. This felt familiar. "If you leave, you get to keep your fingers. If you give anyone," Loki hardened his grip. "...any difficulties upon your exit, I will not hesitate to take off your arm." 

Okay, maybe it wasn't the kindest thing to do, you argued with yourself as Loki threw down the offender's arm. Your torso was slouched across the bar, a wineglass rim and a smirk pressed to your lips as you watched the scuffle from afar. I mean, he did assault you. Then again, you also attacked him back. Maybe it's just karma. The man pushed himself about five feet away from Loki, his hair disheveled and his shirt untucked. After unsuccessfully pushing himself up a few times, he finally was able to stand himself upright, flustered and offended. For a second, you thought that he was going to try to attack Loki, the way he squared his shoulders and his face beating red. He wouldn't have stood a chance against a God, but part of you wondered if the sponsor even knew of Loki's status. Getting in a fight with an agent of the Avengers was one thing. One very mighty thing, of course. However, getting into an altercation with an Avenger who additionally was quasi-immortal didn't make for a brilliant choice. 

The man eyed you hesitantly. You raised your glass to him, bumping your eyebrows as he mumbled and turned away to walk to the door. Loki stood rigidly in place as the crowd of dancers parted way for the instigator to pass through. Some of them had shrugged and immediately returned to dancing; most had returned to their tables, seeking sustenance after having witnessed something that intense. The bar became instantly busier as a myriad of wealthy individuals thronged to get inebriated. You slipped away between expensive coats back to the table, placing your wine glass in front of your seat. What a party. You haven't even been here for an hour, and you've already caused a bar fight.

"Loki," you called, his attention snapping to you. 

The group of morbidly curious onlookers had since dissipated, leaving him standing between the wooden dance floor and the carpeted dinner area alone. He shook his head and trotted to the table, placing his palms on the back of his chair. "If this was an Asgardian gathering, he would have had his fingers cut off for such an offense. Are you alright?" 

You shrugged, offering a sympathetic smile. "It's not abnormal to get a creepy guy at a party." 

Yes, it was, Loki told himself. The culture shock of these realms was a personal hell, sometimes. "Yes, well, I'm sorry it was you who had to deal with that." 

You barked a sardonic laugh. "All I did was slap the guy. You're the one who knocked a few teeth loose." You paused, running your thumb across the top rail, pulling out the chair a bit. You unhooked the cloak and hung it over the chair, shuddering at the lost warmth. "I guess I owe you a 'thanks.'"

Loki peered at you. "You're not upset?" 

"No, but I'm kind of curious what he would have done after I slapped him," you chuckled and shrugged, looking down into your wine. "Tony may be another issue. He did tell us to be nice to his sponsors."

"I'm sure Stark will understand the circumstances." 

"You better hope so. He's probably going to receive a strongly worded email by next week." 

"I'd bet sooner than that." 

You both shared a short laugh. The party had started to calm down a bit, most of the patrons choosing a meal over their fanciful footwork, but a few couples still swayed together, the womens' rounded dresses ruffling outwards as they spun. You made a move to pull out your chair to sit down, and Loki faltered, a conflicted look set into his brow. The music came to a gradual silence, only the sharp ringing of a violin's highest string echoing throughout the room. As much as he hated to admit it, Natasha was right. It had to be now or never, and if he waited much longer, he ran the risk of hurting you. Though he was not frightened of Natasha's threat, Loki did not appreciate the anger boiling in his gut when imagining himself being the source of your pain.

Meanwhile, the music exploded into a dazzling symphony of strings. It hushed soon after, the tempo of the song slowing.  "Before you sit," he ventured. "While threatening the lives of your foes is fiercely entertaining, we do have another two hours before we're to be dismissed. If you're willing, would you care to join me for a dance?" 

"Oh, Loki, you don't have to. It's really okay," You yammered, your hands coming up in front of you. There was no possible way he was asking you to dance. Sure, he had asked you to accompany him to the ball, but you thought that it had been in passing or a kind gesture to help you feel better. Even so, as you caught the subtle stress that immersed into his brow, it hit you. This was genuine. He was being honest. Your heart thumped in your chest, and you prayed that the flushing in your ears was not apparent. 

"You misunderstand," Loki said and offered his hand out, secretly confirming your suspicions. "I'm sure of my actions." 

A half-formed thought lodged itself in your throat, and your mouth became dry. You reached up and tentatively rested your fingers in Loki's outstretched hand. His fingers folded delicately onto yours, the temperature of his fingers drastically different than your own. The world was slow despite your wine having been practically untouched, but your heartbeat intense. He held your hand with a thin smile, leading you through dancing sponsors to an abandoned spot in the corner of the room. 

As you passed, skirts of varying colors and designed dresses brushed against your ankles. It was remarkable how little attention these so-called sponsors paid to any of the Avengers. Getting through thick crowds should not have been this easy, especially with people of your and Loki's repute...or any of your team for that matter. Despite the fact, you were able to spot a conversation between Sam and Bucky, Bruce and Natasha swaying in the other corner of the room, and Tony introducing Peter to a stranger with large glasses. You even noticed a dejected-looking Thor who sat with Steve at the table you had just been taken from. 

The floor of the designated dancing area bloomed in color as if a craftsman had spent hours painting a watercolored landscape onto the glossed wood. The ground was the only thing you could focus on as he led you in and out of sponsors, weaving through endless people. When you finally reached the unoccupied spot in the corner, Loki turned around with an expectant smirk, your hand still in his. 

"Have you danced before?" 

No. "Absolutely." 

"Then you know the steps?" He approached you, placing a steady hand on your waist, and you instinctually reached your empty hand to rest on his arm. His cologne or perhaps his natural scent permeated the air, and you desperately attempted to feign a composed expression. He slowly lifted your hand in the air, stepping a bit forward. He stopped for a moment and chuckled to himself, cocking his eyebrow at you. "You expect me to believe you've done this before? Or am I making you nervous?" 

"Wh-what? I'm not nervous, Loki." you reddened. Everything was happening rapidly and not fast enough at the same time. Part of you yearned to be closer to him, to press his chest to yours, to feel his frigid fingers tangled with yours. Still, you couldn't move. Was it rude to examine a God's face? Maybe, but his eyes were just as alluring as they were bright, and his skin practically glowed under the room's multicolored spotlights. 

"But, I'm correct in assuming you've never danced," Loki predicted. 

"Yes," you sighed. "I'd be lying if I said I knew what I was doing. I haven't danced with anyone since Carter Gurts in the seventh grade." 

Loki chuckled and dipped his chin to his chest, gently beginning to lead you in his waltz-like steps. "Carter Gurts?" 

"Don't even get me started," you groaned, doing your best to ignore his proximity to you. "It was my middle school formal. He got nervous and threw up," you cringed. 

"That's repulsive." 

"Tell me about it." 

Loki bit the inside of his cheek, studying your features. "I can promise you that we won't repeat that little memory," he laughed. Your face lit up into a bright and cheerful giggle, and you thanked him for his sensitivities. 

He pushed you outwards and wrapped his arm over your head and around your back, keeping his hand in yours. You followed his direction and were taken into a spin, your dress fluttering outwards. When you turned to face your partner again, you tripped on a rogue plank of wood that peaked out just an inch higher than the others. You fell forward, wrapping your arms around Loki's neck to steady yourself. Loki caught your bodice, and you two fell into an embrace. 

"You know, if you hadn't fallen over yourself, we may have been able to pass that off as deliberate," Loki grinned. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. 

Norns, you were beautiful. 

Your eyes glistened as the light of a yellow spotlight coruscated over your forehead, fading into the sea of colors behind you. Loki wanted to stay like this forever. Why did he feel like he had lived this moment before? How warm you were compared to him and how soft your hands were compared to his calloused skin. It was ironic, considering how much dirty work you had to do as a spy. He wondered if you noticed, but you didn't, nor did he feel how your body trembled. Your smile had turned his words into sticky sweet syrup, but he refused to rid the taste of you. It was as though all those stories he told as a child had come to reality, fables of finding love and princesses in different worlds. Those apple trees had borne more than just their fruit, uncovering glimpses of his future love. Archaic swatches of color mingled around each other in passing visions that he couldn't make out. All he understood at the time was that those perceptions had somehow comforted him. Now, he understood that he had seen you. 

There were certain things that Loki had taken pride in - one of those things being that he never made the first move. But here and now, as he fell deeper and deeper, he found himself desperate to explore you. He took his hand from yours and reached to your jaw, gently tracing along the bottom of your cheek. He outlined your chin and hesitated over your lips with his thumb. You were so tempting. He faltered, placing his palm at the base of your neck. 

The piano and orchestra had long fallen into the background noise of the party, though sometimes the music would increase in volume and disturb your thoughts. Now was not one of those times. Loki's lips brushed against yours, and as the music crescendoed for the final time in the song, you closed the short space between you, sealing the kiss. You debated pulling away for a moment, but feeling the passion and drive behind his kiss, you allowed yourself to sink further into the heat of the moment. Butterflies spurred to life in your stomach. Loki's lips were softer than you would have imagined, and you felt the heated gust of his breath against your skin. He was the first to pull back, but he remained close to you, cupping your jaw in his hands as the music stirred into what felt like a celebratory chorus. He rubbed the edge of your cheek with his thumb and gazed into your eyes.

"You're as red as your dress, darling," Loki quipped, his brow turning inwards. 

"Can you blame me?" You reached up and put a hand on his. "Is this really how you feel?" It was a question that may have been interpreted as insecure, but you couldn't care at this moment. You had spent countless amounts of time pondering over these types of possibilities. Falling in love, dancing, even sheltering a (substantial) crush on Loki. Never in a million years did you think it would actually happen. The trickster's eyes had always given away his secrets; you had been able to learn his mannerisms and some of his 'tells' from the sheer amount of time you two spent in each other's company.  Standing in front of him with his eyes more avid than you had ever seen them, you finally let down your guard. 

"I think a better question is if you feel the same way," He removed his palms from your jaw and placed them both at your waist, staring eagerly into your eyes. 

"I would have left if I wasn't feeling it, Loki," you laughed. 

"So then you did?" 

"Did what?" 

"Feel it." 

In all reality, there wasn't a need to put your feelings into words - that could be saved for a better time. You nodded at Loki, the elated grin you wore answering every question he needed to know. He quickly took his hands and placed them on the sides of your head, bringing you in for a chaste kiss. 

Who were you two but oil and water; both inherently deadly from two different worlds with individually unique lifespans.  How the universe could have arranged something like this to happen was something foreign to you. Every moment in time had aligned for this to be a reality, a thought too implausible to even discuss. 

He replaced his fingers on your waist and squeezed, lifting you up and twirling you around him. In an entirely involuntary response, you squeaked and tucked your elbows, giggling as his thumbs dug into your sides. The sudden motion set Loki off balance, and he struggled to put you down softly instead of dropping you. Shit. This was not the place. The severity of the situation dawned on you only milliseconds earlier than Loki, and a conniving grin replaced his solicitous look.

"Uh oh," Loki tantalized, refreshing his grip on your torso. With his thumbs perched at the sides of your belly, he dug in the slightest bit, and you jumped at the same time your elbows fell inwards. "Are you alright, love? Something bothering you?" 

"Loki, not right now," You scolded him, failing to conceal your silly expression. "We can't--" 

"Draw attention?" Loki interrupted. Leaning close, he brought his forearm around your back, pulling you as tight as possible. The light and dainty music, obviously made for a romantic type of dance, was the perfect excuse to have you as close as you were to him. "My dear, this party was held with the intention of showing you off. You truly think I care about a bit of an audience?"  His whispers were hot in your ear, and goosebumps dispersed over your arms like the cape he had conjured for you.

"Okay, you may not, but I do," You giggled, putting your hands on his chest to push away. You did your best to dispel any lewd thoughts that came up, but his chest was substantially firm behind your touch, and you abruptly realized that you didn't want to move.

"How foolish to think you have much choice in the matter," He taunted, his fingers now skittering to life and scratching at your lower ribs. Attempting to cover your giggles with a cough didn't do as much as you had hoped. His proximity to your body prevented you from moving either forwards or backward, as his forearm had tightened behind your back, forcing you to press into him. 

"Wahait, Lokhihihi!" You halfheartedly pleaded, twisting your torso a bit to see the other patrons. Luckily, no one had paid any attention to your laughter, too busy with their own to focus on someone else's disorder. 

To your chagrin, as you turned, Loki took the opportunity to walk his fingers up to the base of your armpit, scribbling in the hollow space with a wicked grin. You were instantly thrown into hysterics, your arms coming down to your sides in defense. As much as you did your best to hold in your noises, every few seconds, you'd chortle louder than you had intended. Some people would occasionally throw snide looks your way but return their attention in moments.   

"You do realize that this is payback," Loki noted. 

"Whahat?! Fohor- fahahaha - Shit, Loki!" 

"That little stunt," He emphasized his point by pulling you tighter against his body, shaking two fingers against the edge of your upper ribs. You squeaked and dissolved into helpless giggling. "...you drew in the hallway before. Trying to tickle me - the god of mischief, of all people. And in public, might I add. It's a shame, really," Loki baited, trailing his hand down and pinching at the meat above your hip. "You are so intelligent, and yet you do such stupid things."

You bucked against him, the fabric of your dress limiting any protection against his fingers. There was nowhere to go that he would allow, and the reality of the power he held sank in. As your laughter grew in volume, so did the heat that ran over your cheeks. "N-nahahaha...NNG! NOHOHO-" As to hide the violent eruption that echoed over the orchestra, you buried your face into Loki's shoulder, still fumbling for a desperate grip on his skittering hands. It was the only thing you could think of to muffle the racket as he turned his attack to the sliver of skin where your side met your back. Your laughter was nearing desperate, and your urge to scream only heightened along with it. 

"Careful, darling," He whispered, stilling his fingers. His words were betrayed by the smile lacing his diction. "Don't want to cause a scene, now do we?"

"It's your fauhault that I am!" You mumbled into his chest. 

A dark growl of a chuckle escaped his sigh, and he coiled his assaulting arm around you, holding you close. Embracing Loki felt like two worlds colliding, something strange and beautiful but deep-seated and dangerous. His touch was powerful and hungry. He bore years of solitude and loneliness under his nails, all crashing down into one hug that was sure to be among others. You knew that he had missed years of feeling the closeness of intimacy, and truth be told, your situation was not much different. Those years, poisoned by fragments of shattered memories, had hardened you beyond reason. There would be one day when you were able to explain what had happened, but not even you were ready to face those recollections just yet. For now, your mind was occupied by his presence. 

Loki intertwined his fingers between yours, pushing your right shoulder out, and your arms stretched tautly but never severed the connection. The song that played was recognizable, some alteration of Pachabel's Canon in D that the piano took melody on. Your body floated through the notes, spiraling back into his hold once again, his arm enclosing you. His breath on the back of your neck pierced your skin, but before the chills had fully erupted, Loki lifted his arm that was still wrapped around you, forcing you into a frail spin.

When your chest collided with his, you bit the corner of your mouth, desperate to lean forward. The tension between you two was visible, and faster than you had intended, your lips pressed into his again. Heaven was either tellurian or somewhere tucked away in Asgard, and his hands on your hips confirmed that paradise could never be found at home. Not allowing yourself to dive too deep just yet, you pulled away, his head hesitating to follow your lips as he gazed at you. The longing in his eyes burrowed far into you, and you smiled, reaching up to take his jaw in your hands. How kind and loving he looked at you as if one glance could hold a thousand words, or though your fairytale had woven itself into the pages of real life.

"Can we just leave?" You said fervently. "I don't want to be here much longer."

He caught the pangs of longing in your stare and smirked in response. "Desire me all to yourself, hm?" 

"Don't be ridiculous," You groaned and sucked your teeth, trying to hide the blush from creeping onto your face. Even though you had feigned defensive, Loki had called you out, putting your thoughts that you hadn't even pieced together on a bold display. It wasn't that he was right...but he certainly wasn't incorrect either. The thought of having Loki alone was enticing, and he was the only one who could get you to admit it. 

Though you both had undoubtedly had enough of the gathering, Loki had mentioned Stark's makeshift "party guide" that kept you confined to the grounds until eight. Time had been swept by the rather eventful evening, but you were still an hour away from being dismissed. That meant more time striking conversations with sponsors...or worse, you thought, having to deal with the crew now that both of your feelings had been publicized. The floor had been mostly abandoned, save you and a few stray couples who mingled rather than danced. The sun had cast an amber hue over the furniture and faces, some portions of the room painted in a discolored brown as the stained glass windows mixed with the sun's natural vibrancy.

The hour had not taken as long as it felt, and you were grateful that Loki had taken control over most of the conversations. It must have been a miracle or at least inside-knowledge that he would be attending, as most patrons didn't bat an eye when giving his two cents on specific subjects. All the while, Loki would keep a protective hand around your waist, never breaking his concentration from his discourse. Several speeches were given in the final hour, mostly droning orations congratulating Tony on the proceeds raised. While the number had been shocking to hear at first, you pondered how much money could actually be spared from these people. The thought nauseated you, and you turned your head away from the lengthy addresses. Not ten minutes away from eight, Tony placed his cup down on the bar counter with a thud, leaning over and falling into a drunken giggle. Pepper was barely a foot away, attempting to pull him out of his seat with pursed lips. 

You nodded at him as his glass fell to the floor with a crash. "Wasn't he the one who told us not to get shitfaced? And I thought he told us they already did the speeches?"

"He did," Steve said, taking a swig of his beer from his spot at the table. "Everyone who's been at that podium has had a few. They're mainly Tony's buddies." 

"That explains it," You mumbled and took a sip of your wine. "Are we really the sober ones here? I know you can't get drunk, and no alcohol here that Thor and Loki have is gonna do a thing." 

Bruce scoffed. "You'd think the Avengers would be the real partiers, considering the whole 'saving the world' thing."

"One of us is, that's for sure," Natasha chuckled, glancing over her shoulder at a messy-looking Tony who was being led out the front exit, clinging to Pepper. "I guess we're gonna have to find our hotel rooms ourselves." 

"I think I can actually help with this," Peter muttered, focusing onto Tony and Pepper, who stumbled over themselves as they slipped through the hall's archway. Before you could figure out what was happening, Peter pressed a button tucked close to his wrist, and webbing shot out in a thin, almost transparent line from the opposite side of the table, weaving through the crowd. The spurt of webbing connected with a small manilla envelope in the back of Tony's pocket and stuck, snapping it backward and straight into Peter's hands. He smiled cheerfully as the table watched him, both shocked and impressed. 

"What...did you just do?" Sam questioned, his brow pressed in confusion. 

"Oh, right," Peter quickly went to work, opening the envelope he had stolen off of Tony and spilling its contents out onto the table. Eight pale blue cards slipped out of their yellow casing, each with its own number labeled on a gray stripe. "They're the keys. I think there's enough for each of us, but I'm not sure." 

"What about Tony and Pepper?" Steve questioned.

"Oh! Mr. Stark actually had his key around his neck, so I think these are all ours."

Steve nodded and bumped his eyebrows. "Nice work, kid," he said, trying to hide his surprise.

"That was really cool. Never do it again," Clint laughed and patted Peter on the shoulder. 

"If I may," Loki spoke, casting his glance down to the cards. He looked at everyone at the table, his look holding for a moment longer on you than the others. "There are eight keys and nine of us. Unless Stark had the intention of having two of us share a room, that leaves one odd man out." 

He was right. For the nine people who sat at the table, one of you would have to room together. The most reasonable option would have had the brothers stay together, but as the suggestion exited Thor's mouth and he was given a discouraging glare on Loki's part, the proposal fell short. 

Truthfully, the thought was inappropriate, and the idea of the team's possible reactions coursed through your mind. But even if...it wasn't the worst thing ever. "What if," you began. "Loki and I room?"  Though a few at the table shot wary looks your way, you weren't met with the strong discouragement as you expected. Loki was the only person to truly grasp the arrangement, whose eyes went wide. 

Steve was not one known to be protective in the nuances of life such as these. More often than not, you found Steve taking on a  'DYI'-dad role, using encouraging phrases to help guide others instead of demands. Appreciated most of the time, his suggestions were typically on track with their respective solutions, but as he eyed you from his spot at the table, something boiled in your gut. You knew the team's wary opinions of the god, and when Loki caught sight of the super-soldier's leer, he fought off a snarl. Though the man's following words were easy to predict, it did not stop them from bruising his ego. 

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Steve said more as a statement than a question, avoiding eye contact with Loki. The tense silence spoke volumes. 

You pursed your lips, wanting to snap back at him. I think it's really rude that you would insinuate any wrongdoings, you wanted to say; that it was his job as the team leader to accept and work with everyone on the team, even if that meant it included something in their past. Loki had been on the team well before you had, so the notion that you would be unsafe was wildly offensive. Although, you could see where he came from. Steve was the one to see Loki in action all those years ago. While you were not afraid of his past and sins, you had no right to comment on how someone else felt about them, especially those who fought personally against his tyranny. There was no clear answer. 

You cleared your throat, interrupting a breath that Loki took to speak. "Respectfully," you said. "Loki and I have been on precisely thirty-two missions before, thirty-two of those missions being successful with minimal casualties," It would have been enough if you had left it there. Your point was proven, which was evident by Loki's triumphant and slightly presumptuous grin at Steve. Even so, there was an urge to express the accuracies of that statement and emphasize it, so it would show just how confident you were to Steve. "I would trust him with my life," you concluded, earning a surprised expression from most at the table.

Your face flushed under their stares, but most of them quickly returned to their own doings aside from Steve, Loki, and Natasha who sucked on her teeth to prevent a smile. Steve looked at you, appearing more ashamed than annoyed, catching you off guard. Despite Loki's cocky grin that he hastily threw, Steve nodded at him and then returned to you with a shameful expression. "You're right," he said. "You both are a crucial part of the team." 

"Just take off the 'big-brother' pants, okay? I know what I'm doing," You lowered your voice as to not embarrass him. Steve nodded and offered an apologetic smile which you returned sincerely.  

Even though Loki was humbled by your desire to assist him and make amends, it didn't take a genius to figure out that he had caused irreversible damages in his past. While he didn't mind being feared overall (and got a kick out of it often), he had come this far, and the concept of mistrust still being present created animosity. He imagined those years ago, standing atop the buildings in the same city he was in. Midgard's people had looked like ants from up there, at least until Tony Stark had smashed his skull through a building window. He chuckled. Good times. But things were different now that he had changed. He had protected a world he had once promised to conquer, protected people vowed to slaughter, and now he found himself only wanting to surmount one lone matter in this world. One lone person. It irritated him, the fact that his thoughts always returned to you. 

Loki sucked in a breath and pushed out his seat, using two fingers to slide over a key card from the pile. He eyed the card, then stood up, adjusting his tie. "On that note, I'll be making my exit," he announced. The rest of the table bid farewell to him and wished him a good night, which he nodded in return. When he was confident that most had gone back to either eating or idle chatter, he walked the perimeter of the table, stopping behind you and leaning down to whisper. 

"Would you like to accompany me to our suite?" he breathed. "Or do you have better plans?"  His hot breath shot chills down your collar. 

Biting your lip to fight off a grin, you followed Loki's example and stood from your chair, throwing the cloak over your shoulders. "I think I'm gonna head out too. Does anyone know what time the limo is leaving?" you asked in a small attempt to change the potential course of conversation.

"O-eight-hundred. Bright and early," Bucky said with a mouth full of sushi, pointing an accusatory chopstick at you. "And you two behave."

You laughed and rolled your eyes, hooking your fingers onto Loki's elbow crook. "Relax, Barnes," you huffed. "It'll be fine. Goodnight everyone," Once you had earned your responsive chorus of adieus, Loki turned and led you through the sea of tables and dancers and out into the brisk northeastern air. 

The hotel was further than you had first presumed, being a block down from the venue. The tinges of orange had long left the sky, replaced by black skies and illuminations of electronic billboards that changed images every few seconds. There were a few billboards like the one you had seen when you initially arrived, most of the pictures being of Steve or Tony, which made you chuckle. The action-hero stances or dramatic portraits always made them look more grave than they both were. Maybe not Steve; Steve perpetually looked as if someone poured water in his cereal. You pointed them out as Loki led you down the sidewalk in drastically gaudier clothes than each character who passed you by. 

The hotel was complicated to find, as every building in New York seemed to resemble the next. Decorated by colossal flags signs displaying the hotel's name you didn't attempt to pronounce, the entrance was less conspicuous than imagined. The only things that gave away the hotel's lucre were the bellhops, attendants, and guests who exited and entered nonchalantly. Each wore business suits, tuxes, or luxurious pelts. It was apparent why Tony chose a place like this. Part of you wondered if this would draw attention to the Avengers, and another part of you tried to forget that you'd be at risk wherever you went. You knew what you had gotten yourself into when you had joined, so the constant life-being-in-danger thing was essentially a norm. 

The hotel lobby was designed with an affluent-business aesthetic, adding on a couple of million dollars. Your heels clicked against the polished marble as you entered, a golden yellow cross-hatching with blue stripes in the center embellishing the design. Despite the amber-colored ceilings being a bit low, a crystal chandelier hung from its freshly wiped canopy. Several potted planted were tucked away in alcoves carved into the off-white walls, two ivory armchairs placed below them with a small coffee table in between. The ambiance was cozy, and a fireplace surrounded by several leather loveseats crackled on the far left wall of the room. 

As you checked in, a clerk with a black, coily coiffure spoke something into a walkie-talkie and returned to you with a smile. "Just making sure your respective bags get to your room. The elevator to your right will take you to the fourth floor. I understand that you have a party of...eleven?"

"I believe that's correct," Loki confirmed. 

"All the rooms are side by side and connected by the living rooms. You'll just have to open the door from both sides. Please don't hesitate to call if something's wonky. Enjoy your stay," the clerk said, sliding you a laminated list of numbers to call in every scenario possible. 

Loki took the list and tucked it into his jacket, looking down at you and giving a reassuring smile. "Are you alright?" He asked as he led you onto the elevator. He pressed a button, and the doors slid shut.

"Yeah," you took a deep breath. "Even on my missions, I don't think I've ever had to pretend to be someone this rich." 

Loki hummed. "You would have completed the mission regardless. I've visited lavatories classier than this."

"You're a prince from a different planet," you laughed.

He chuckled, "I'm well aware."

"It has to count for something," There was no point in not being honest with him. The hotel and the party were both grand gestures, but everything was becoming a bit much. "I guess I'm a bit overwhelmed," you confessed. "A lot happened tonight."

Loki tilted his head to look at you. His brow furrowed, then changed into something sympathetic. "Yes, it's been an eventful day."

The hotel room was easier to find than the hotel. A pop machine whirred to life as it dispensed a can for a mother and her daughter, and the girl giggled with glee. You and Loki moved past them and onto a secondary hallway. You found your door, allowing Loki to open the room with a swipe of his key card. He pushed the door in, and you followed close behind. As expected, your luggage had been tucked neatly into a coat closet adjacent to the front door, hangers wobbling haphazardly as you opened its door. Some of you wondered how or who got your clothing together and packed away, but when you thought about it too hard, you became grossed out and decided to find something else to focus on.  

About three feet away from the door, a table made of dark wood sat at waist level, a rectangular basket of fancy liquors, and a mirror hanging behind it. You watched in the mirror as Loki closed the door behind you, and you shrugged off your cloak to drape it from a hanger. The floor was carpeted a sandy shade, expanding into what you assumed to be a bedroom to your left. On the opposite side of the room, the carpet halted at a living room with tan leather sofas, a desk, and a boxy television. 

Loki chuckled as you stared at yourself in the mirror, stripping himself of his jacket and hanging it beside your cloak. He breathed in deeply and stepped up behind you, sliding his hands over your waist and interlocking his fingers on your stomach. The feeling made you jump slightly, but you relaxed into his hold. He rested his face in the crook of your neck as you leaned your head back onto his shoulder, inhaling the freshened air of the hotel room. 

"It's quiet," you muttered, picking up a tiny bottle of whiskey with the silhouette of a red lion on an orange label.

Loki inhaled and lifted his chin, placing it gently on your shoulder. "I never pegged you as a whiskey person." 

"I'm not," you validated. Turning the bottle over in your fingers, you hummed and set it down. "I've never actually had the chance to try it. Or wanted to. One or the other." 

"I personally don't care for it much. Asgardian mead remains the nine realms most exquisite of spirits," Loki countered. He remained, standing with his skin pressed into yours. The mirror held the actualities of your own single universe, albeit small ones. Seeing the reflection of your body pushed against his own was something out of a story, and for a moment, he prayed to Odin that his visions hadn't been incorrect. The softness of your skin was unparalleled, he noted, taking a hand to drag against your outer upper arm. You shivered, making him smile into your neck. You smelled as though rich wine and amber and pear had clashed into one collaborative fragrance, a warm scent that reminded him of the gardens on Asgard. It was charming, to say the least.  "Would you like to take a moment to freshen up, darling?" He asked mainly out of courtesy.  

You hummed in thought, bumping your eyebrows with an appreciative smile. "Maybe in a few. I think I just want to get into comfy clothes." 

"That can be arranged," Loki said, taking the hand that had been dragging along your arm and flicking his fingers upwards. A fizzy green light bubbled at your feet, shrouding the two pairs of legs in chartreuse clouds that formed and rolled up your body. You fell a little flat as the heels you wore faded away, replaced with soft grey slippers that covered everything but your Achilles heel. You noticed that Loki's sophisticated dress shoes had also been transformed into black socks as the mist climbed higher. The magic passed over your torso and chest, momentarily blocking your view from the mirror. 

When the magic subsided, the tight feeling of your dress melted away into soft cotton that hugged your hips and shoulders. Loki had replaced your outfit with a black t-shirt that fell loose and a pair of plaid green and blue pajama pants that cuffed at your ankle. His outfit had changed as well; his suit morphed into a grey sweatshirt and black track pants. It was a peculiar look, seeing you both in such casual outfits, but it warmed something in your heart. You smiled, taking your hand and holding the side of his cheek, watching his expressions in the mirror. He smiled.

"You always did look better in green," he teased, pushing himself off of you to turn you around to face him. "I do wonder how you would look in Asgardian leather." 

You blushed at the mention of it and pushed at his chest. Despite the quip, you released a breathy laugh, "I think it would probably suit you better than me."

"Eheh," he laughed, placing a flat palm on your upper back to pull you closer. "Don't undersell yourself, dear. If there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that you would look ravishing, no matter the clothing you choose to wear," he said, rubbing a thumb along your cheek. "Or don't," he added with a smirk. 

You threw your head back and groaned, allowing his arms to support your weight. "I don't want you to keep thinking you can get away with that kind of stuff," you grumbled. The position you found yourself in was oddly reminiscent of the ballroom dance you shared. That same dance he had tickled you to pieces and embarrassed you in front of everyone, of course, but it had-

Wait. 

"Are you going to do anything to stop MEHE-" Loki immediately unhooked his arms from around your body as you skittered your fingers up his stomach. He stepped backward, expecting you to let go, but you followed his movements, and he stumbled against the wall. He sucked in his giggles and clasped your wrists in his hands, looking aghast. "I must warn you, love - you are not making a wise series of choices."

"I think you lied to me, Loki," you laughed in astonishment. You knew your hunch about Loki faking had been correct, or he at least was doing an impressive job at holding in his reactions at the party.

After readjusting his posture, he gripped your wrists tighter and jerked you close to him. You yelped, falling against his chest. With your fists and elbows tucked between his and your bodies, he growled a low chuckle into your ear, earning a snicker from you. As much as you wanted to push your head down, Loki simply didn't allow it. "I think you are walking on thin ice, pet," he whispered. "Do what you will. But I swear everything you do will be returned tenfold." 

You paused, taking a second to lean back and study his features. This was Loki we were talking about, and you had not only tickled him once today (or attempted), but now twice, and were expecting to get off the hook. Something as flirty and as torturous as tickling was indeed not below the trickster god. He stared deep into your eyes, deadly serious. When you didn't respond in time, Loki's threatening look softened. "No? Then let's begin," he said, smirking. 

Before you could ask what he was talking about, you felt something soft coil around your ankle, wrapping around and up your leg to mid-calf.  Your instincts forced out a scream and kick before you even had seen what it was, but when you looked down and saw a rolled-up bed sheet tied around your foot, you became confused. The corded sheet trailed in from the bedroom, disappearing behind the wall where you assumed the bed was. The only thing visible in the bedroom was a flat-screen television against the same wall as the door.  The confusion only lasted so long, as any thought was whisked from your head when the sheet tightened and yanked, throwing your weight to the floor. You screamed and fell with a thud as the long line of linen dragged you into the bedroom. 

Having been in a similar situation like this (Bali was probably the roughest mission thus far), you were able to get your bearings quickly. You used the momentum of the turn to flip onto your back, crunching up and reaching out to unhook the wrap. Before you could do much work, the direction of the pull changed, and you were hoisted suddenly into the air, your free leg bent at an awkward angle. With a heavy breath, you craned your neck to look at what held you. 

The sheet that rippled with green magic had been rolled tight, but you were able to see the unmade bed it originated from. There was a sofa black leather sofa that you had been dangled above, a coffee table and armchair a few feet away. If you fell, you were in for a soft landing, and seeing Loki's magic calmed your nerves a bit. It wouldn't have necessarily been a surprise if a rogue villain decided to literally crash the party or invade your hotel room; it wasn't the first to happen either way. Even so, the sneer that Loki held as he strolled into the room with his fingers laced behind his back did little to slow your pulse. 

"Stuck, are we?" He said, bumping his brow and looking down, the smirk never leaving his face. He stepped closer, and you thanked fate that the dragging had caused your shirt to catch under the elastic in your pants, keeping your midsection clothed. 

"Loki, put me down right now!" you scolded, but a few giggles slipped through your scowl. 

Loki tutted and strolled over to you, scanning your upsidedown body. You knew that Loki would never and has never done anything to hurt you, but despite that fact, you felt exposed. Gravity worked against you, making every movement intentional, forced, and tiresome. Dangling three feet off the floor by one leg would be easy for someone to get out of if they held a strong core, but getting out of it with your captor standing less than a foot away presented another obstacle. If he had made you fall, falling on a couch was undoubtedly better than landing on a hard floor.  However, Loki stayed still, watching your struggling form attempt to crunch to unwind the cloth from your leg. Gripping your pant leg, you opted to ignore him for the time being. You walked your hands up your leg, using it to sturdy yourself as you reached up and climbed the length of your body. 

Just as your fingertips grazed the hem of the sheet, the cloth rippled against your ankle, alive with bright green sparks. It slackened, and you felt a startling induction of gravity, but you were caught and snapped back down to your starting posture. You gasped and yelped as the sheet hoisted you higher. 

"Unfortunately for you," he stepped up to you, his shoulders slightly lower than parallel to your hips. Tantalizingly slow, he dragged two relaxed fingers against an exposed sliver of skin on your lower stomach. You shuddered a gasp and reached up to grab at him, but he had pulled away too quick. "I don't have any plans on releasing you any time soon."

"What are you talking ABOHOUT?!" If there was reason for trying to hold back your laughter, it was startled off by the boisterous laughter that erupted through the room as Loki set to work scratching at your stomach. His fingers danced around your navel, flitting down (or up, by your perspective) to flutter around your sternum. Giggles now pouring freely, your biceps already began to ache with the effort of swatting away his hands. Your mirth became frantic as the realization of just how much power he had over you sank into your spine. In a desperate reach to control what you could, you grabbed at his shirt and clutched at it. Loki mistook your grappling as an attack of your own, and he coughed out several short chuckles but caught your flailing wrists and held them in one fist. 

"Ohoho, poor choice after poor choice tonight," he looked incredulously at you.

The minute amount of protection your arms provided had been stolen from you in a blink of an eye. You choked out some giggles and felt your elevated pulse beneath his fingers, and you wondered if he could feel it too. Yet your laughing hadn't stopped. Although it was an exploitive and intense feeling, you didn't mind being tickled. You could feel the power beneath his palms, but his touch revealed something more genuine - more affectionate than spiteful. His hands grazed over your skin, and you wanted to drink in the feeling of his skin against you, but the tickling made that incredibly difficult. When his fingers tripped to a different spot and your energy spiked, his tongue would peak out between his teeth as he tried not to laugh along with you. One of those spots was an area of your upper ribs, right below the hollows of your armpit. Your giggles hitched, and you jerked away from him. He tapped the tip of his pointer nail against the sensitive skin gingerly, taking enjoyment in your desperation. 

"This ihisn't even fahahair!" you whined. "What I did wasn't nearly as bad as what you're doing!" 

"I did say that I would return your actions tenfold, did I not?" 

"Yeah, but-" 

"Then you understand that while I may not commonly be a man of my word, when it comes to making things fair, I care very deeply," he hummed, gripping your wrists tighter as he traced to the soft spot of your underarm. Your mind was fuzzy from the ticklish shocks slamming through your nerves, but his teasing did nothing for your aid. You pulled and yanked, but your strength against his was a game you were destined to lose. "If that means I must teach you a lesson about the natural consequences of your actions, so be it. Would you like me to list out the reasons for your discipline?" 

"NahahaHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHO!" you bellowed when he switched to vibrating his fingers under your exposed arms. He nudged the hem of your sleeve to the side, allowing his top digits to slip beneath the cover of your shirt and onto bare skin. 

"Does it not bother you that your enemies could unravel you by something as simple as this?" He pinched his hand up to your hips, and you cackled, struggling against your restraints. Though Loki wasn't one for mercy, his heart fluttered when he saw a happy tear escape from the apple of your cheek.

He also noted how red your face turned and recalled that humans didn't have the blood circulation strength required to be held at different gravities for extended periods. Without releasing your wrists, Loki commanded the sheet to set your back down against the couch, your head and shoulders touching down first, followed by the rest of your torso. The couches cooled leather startled you at first but swiftly came as a relief as your headrush began to fade away. You sucked in some greedy breaths and gradually opened your eyes before realizing that your one leg was still held in the air. Using his one free hand, he scratched delicately along the back of your knee. 

"KAHAHAHA, SHIHIHIT! Leheave mehehehe aloHONE!" Your free-hanging foot landed against the arm of the couch, pushing your hips up in pure instinct or to gain an ounce of leverage. It did nothing. 

"You are quite resilient, I must say. Then again, it could also just be that...you're enjoying this," Loki remarked, and you felt his thumb twitch against the bone of your wrist. 

Distracted by Loki's tickling fingers, the soft cotton that slid against the bottom of your sole was almost too faint to feel. That is... until it became more intentional. The first few flicks of the magic-bound sheets were nearly as mistakable as an accident, but when your eyes caught the glowing green light shifting around your toes and arch, your heart rate hitched, and your laugh took on a wheeze. The hemming of the sheet was significantly stiffer than the rest of the fabric, and feeling it scratch against your foot was practically unbearable. You kicked out and attempted to sit up, but your antics had sapped most of the energy from your body. 

"PLEHEHEASE! I AHAHAM NAHAHAHAT!" 

Loki scoffed with a heavy eye roll. There were things that Loki was, but a fool was not among those qualities. You were not one to hide your affection for those around you, a characteristic that made you all the more endearing. He had seen you push, play, and intentionally annoy the other Avengers into rough-housing, and they had always played along, happy to make a sturdy source of their joy content as well. Loki had not been kept a victim of your antics, and you were not below purposefully seeking him out to pester. "I'm just supposed to believe that?" 

"Yehehehes! This is torturhure," You chortled, which was a half-truth. 

"Fascinating," Loki leaned forward on the couch, looming over your frame. The angle of your trapped leg caused your hips to elevate off the sofa, your foot planted on the arm for support. To avoid hurting you, Loki made sure to press his weight into the upper part of your torso instead of the lower part to prevent any uncomfortable pull. Who would have thought he'd take care in the comfort of his own captive? Would Asgard crumble at the mere sight of its trickster haven fallen at the hands of something so ordinary? Could all evil not be subdued by the touch of one it loves? Perhaps it was possible. "And yet you've not once requested me to stop," Loki purred, bringing your hands up above your head though you thrashed and struggled and spewed with nervous tittering.

Your stomach dropped and swarmed with abashment. Saying that it was torture wouldn't have counted, nor the halfassed pleas you offered amongst your frenzy. Although Loki had made that a point, both his hands and cursed cloth slowed.

The sweat shinner across your brow, the way your chest heaved and retracted against the bunched-up fabric of the clothes he had conjured onto your beautiful skin; there was nothing to you Loki didn't adore. You were trust, warmth, acceptance, something that was all too rare. He smiled down at your goofy and exhausted grin, finally ending his reign over the bedsheets and lowering your body fully onto the sofa. The sheet draped loosely around your ankle as if it had been the remnants of morning or perhaps a mid-afternoon nap. The wild state of your clothing and hair suggested as much, if not something more suggestive. Love and affection were strange. Not foreign, but peculiar. Loki had not realized that falling in love could physically be felt in the chest, like magnetism that would prayerfully result in his arms embracing you. 

In a crowded room, his eyes fell heavy onto you. The way when you spoke, your words almost fell too quickly out of your mouth. Your skill as an agent, your sharp wit, your humor - Loki's thoughts fell onto his mother's face, and how desperately he wished he could bring you home to Asgard to show her what - who - he had won. And yet, you were more than just a prize. You were more than just the exterior shell of the hardened agent you had to become. You were you. That was enough. 

There were many parts that of you that Loki had yet to explore. Natasha's words and advice rang in the back of his head, but he knew that they came from a place of protectiveness for you. There were so many possibilities to who you were, what had happened, where you even came from. Midgard was large, Asgard immense, the cosmos enormous. With each individual came a story, and the stories he had heard throughout his years put lead in his stomach. The Avengers were not known for cheery origins, that was evident enough. While he craved to know what fueled your drives, he was unwilling to push past what you were acquiescent to share.  

"I don't hate it," You mumbled, snatching Loki from his thoughts. A deep blush dusted your cheeks, and you turned your head to the side, tugging on your wrists (which Loki yielded) and covering your face. "If anyone is doing it, I'd rather it be you."

Once again, the familiar tug of Loki's heart blossomed in his chest. He felt his jaw square but did nothing to stop it, allowing his face to bear emotions he had concealed for what felt to be ages. You reached up to him, taking his jaw in your hands. His chin was stiff beneath your sliding thumb, his skin smooth and unblemished, save for smile lines that had etched themselves to the sides of his nose. 

"What are you thinking about?" You asked. 

Loki's hand mimicked your gentle hold on his face, caressing the apples of your cheek. "I...have done things. Some unspeakable," he admitted, searching for something in your face. 

"Things I already know about."

"Yes," his voice faded. Years of suffering, loneliness, and pain strong enough to shake ground shadowed his face. "Is this right? You don't feel...coerced." 

"No," you shook your head just enough so he could see beneath the dark of the room. "Don't focus on the past anymore. We're here. We're now. We've all done things we hate. All of us," you paused, the faded glow of a taxi's headlights passing over his features. "I...just want to be with you."

"I'm here," Loki rustled, leaning down to your lips. 

In the story that Loki had told in his fruit-drunk stupor, he had spoken of a world painted with crimson and gold. The air tasted like bourbon, and the crowds pulsed with energy as musicians cheered in their corners. Among the throng of people had been a girl, dancing by herself in the middle of a busy floor, her dress bright and how its ruby pigment stole eyes from onlookers. She twirled and laughed, holding the skirt down with her hands. Loki had not told his companions about his visions afterward and instead let them begin their own fables, but Loki had seen more than just that girl. He had seen her take his hand and lead him into a dance. He had seen the sparkle of solar systems in her eyes and stars glittering in her pupils. He had tasted the tang of wine at your tongue, and now as he sat with you in intense reality and made quick work of his hands, the memory of his fantasy had reached its end. 

His tongue now tasted the perspiration he had caused personally, kissing and nipping at your neck, your collar, your stomach, your hips, your thighs...

With a look supplicating permission, a shy nod, and a smirk that made your knees shake, you once again found yourself trembling beneath the hands of the trickster god. 

#Loki x reader #protective!Loki #Ticklish Loki #Ticklish Reader #Avengers tickle fic #Loki tickle fic #Loki Laufeyson #Thor Odinson #Steve Rogers #tony stark #sam wilson #Bucky Barnes #natasha romanoff

[redhairedwolfwitch]

Yup, It's a Leprechaun, All Right - Legacies x Noralise!Daughter!Reader

To Whom It May Concern

B/m/n = biological mother’s name

A/n: season 3 is kinda ehh for storylines, so I'll be making a subplot that could be terrible or could be interesting, who knows?

You let out a sigh as you held the sponge in your hands, wishing you could have been given any other fundraiser assignment than the car wash.

Hope was with Cleo, trying to create art, Kaleb was going to the bank with Alaric, and you had no idea where the others were.

"Yo, Hildegard." Jed nodded to you as he brought a large bucket of soapy water over, almost dumping it on Kaleb's car.

"Kill me, please." You whispered, taking the bucket from Wade as you began to wash Kaleb's car.

"The school must be struggling." "Y/n skipped the assembly, yet Elizabeth found her and dragged her into this chaos." "Knowing the school, it will get more chaotic." B/m/n pointed out as Nora and Mary-Louise provided more to the conversation.

///

"Y/n, was the rainbow you? It's not pride month yet-"

"Dude, I'm busy trying to wash your car, anyway, I have way better plans for pride month than a rainbow in the sky." You retorted, flicking suds off of your wrist as Kaleb sighed and walked away.

///

"Y/n, incoming!" Jed called out to you as he stood up, hearing cars and voices as Wade got up too, spotting what was coming.

"Oh, great. At least Lizzie didn't make me wear swimwear to this." You mumbled, rolling your eyes as Jed discarded his jacket and began to clean the incoming cars.

"Why would she-" "Don't ask." B/m/n cut Mary-Louise's question off, giving her a 'you don't want to know' look.

///

"I need a break. I'm going to go find Hope." You declared, rolling your eyes as Jed almost sprayed you with the hose.

"Not avoiding the tribrid, interesting..." Nora chuckled, watching you glare at Jed before heading inside the school.

///

"Wow, that's stunning, Hope." You announced as you stood in the doorway, smiling as Hope turned around.

"Who let the mop in?" She joked, smiling slightly as she took in your damp appearance.

"I was on car wash duty." You explained, stepping forwards as Hope tilted her head to the side.

"Surprised Lizzie didn't put you in swimwear."

"Um-" "Wow." "Surprised that came out of her mouth, wish I didn't hear that." Your mothers grumbled at each other.

"Nobody needs to see that." You replied, shivering slightly as the cold began to set in.

"Y/n?" Cleo frowned, wondering what was wrong, but you shook your head.

"I'm going to hit the showers and warm up. Be careful, fundraiser's gotten a bit chaotic." You warned, heading away as a woman turned up, asking who the statue was of.

///

You were in the shower as the leprechaun was let loose, thanks to Hope. Luckily it didn't have a taste for your ring, which you were wearing as you washed the shampoo from your hair.

///

"Where the hell were you?" Hope snapped as she found you in your room, in a towel.

"What in the-" "Bloody hell, what is the tribrid up to?"

"In the shower, trying to warm up, do you mind-" You froze as Hope shut the door, anger on her features as you held the towel tightly around you.

"Hope." You warned, staring at her with wide eyes as realisation washed over Hope's face, her eyes glancing down your towel-clad body.

"I'm sorry, I need to go." Hope stated, leaving as you gave her a 'wtf' look, getting a glance at Cleo outside the door as you headed into the hidden room in your room to get dressed.

///

A knock at the door over an hour later had you glancing up from your desk.

"Hope, go away."

"She scared her, didn't she?" "Yes, I think she did." Mary-Lou glared as Nora sighed, nodding to confirm.

"It's me." Cleo announced herself, smiling as you opened the door.

"You okay?" You enquired, noticing how Cleo was holding the weird sculpture bust of Landon.

"Hope's obsession with Landon is all-consuming. It feels as though she gives no care for anyone else, but him. She is determined to bring the real Landon back, so has no need for this. I do not know what to do with it, in all honesty." Cleo admitted as she left it near your door, stepping into your room as she glanced around.

"That explains it well." B/m/n murmured, but she fell silent as she, Nora and Mary-Louise listened to your response, sharing looks as a tear fell down your cheek, fear blossoming in your eyes.

"Yeah, that's something I figured out a long time ago, and why I'm so hot and cold with hanging around the school. I realised something about myself a while ago, and I'm struggling. Because no matter what I do, my fate is entangled with the fate of Hope Mikaelson."

///

Long Time, No See

#legacies x reader #legacies imagine #legacies #noralise!daughter #hope mikaelson x reader #noralise x reader #noralise imagine #noralise #nora hildegard #mary louise #cleo sowande #hope mikaelson #kaleb hawkins #jed tien #lizzie saltzman #handon #hope x landon

[arroganceisherfavoritecolor]

Hmmm ok so I’ve thought about a few ideas! <3

Colin grey being your secret admirer (where the reader keeps getting surprises in their locker and they think it’s Jennifer messing with them but it’s Colin and the surprises keep getting bigger until they suddenly stop because Colin wants to finally get the courage to ask the reader out but has no idea how until the announcement for a dance comes up and he decides to ask them out :)

For Rodrick I thought maybe after a few months or a year of dating Rodrick convinces the reader to meet his family for the first time because his family thinks he made up his relationship and wants to prove that he’s in a very loving one<3

I have more but these are a few for now <3 :)

Admiration☆彡

warnings: a few small curse words, that's it! ---------------------------------<3-------------------------------

"what the hell" Y/n sighed, irritated. for the past week or so, they had been getting strange things in their locker. The object in Y/n's locker today was a bouquet of black roses tied by a white ribbon. As nice as these little gifts were, Y/n didn't really enjoy being toyed with by Jennifer Check. They didn't have any proof that this was Jennifer playing some stupid joke on them like they thought it was, but they knew her well enough to know she would do something like this (even though Jennifer didn't really have anything against Y/n). "BOO" a familiar voice snapped Y/n out of their thoughts, making them whip around to see who it was. They were met with the face of their good friend Colin. "Whew, you scared me dude" said Y/n, making Colin giggle. "I see you've gotten another little affirmation" Colin said, pointing at the dark roses in Y/n's locker. "Its the 5th time this has happened, could you tell Jennifer to stop messing with me please?'' Y/n said, closing their locker as they began to walk with Colin down the hall to their last class of the day. "How do you know its Jennifer? Maybe someone really does like you" Colin responded. "I don't know, but I also don't know who else would give me roses and fancy chocolates" said Y/n. "I mean, I can see why whoever's giving you all this stuff would do it" Colin said, making Y/n smile and mutter a "thanks Colin".

Throughout Y/n's classes, they kept thinking of who could be putting these little gifts inside of their locker, but no matter how hard and long they thought there was only one accurate suspect; Colin Gray. Sure Colin is one of Y/n's best friends and is a sucker for romantic things and stuff, but Y/n was the last person he would do all this for. He had many other people to choose from anyway. After daydreaming about Colin being their "secret admirer", Y/n headed home.

┊The Next Morning ୭⋆｡

Y/n groaned. This time, the present in their locker was a velvety purple box with another white ribbon on it. Y/n opened it and found a silver necklace, with a small heart that had pink rhinestones on it. "Again?" asks Colin, seemingly out of nowhere. " this is really nice, but does Jennifer think i was born yesterday or something?" Y/n asked, a bit irritated. "I'm pretty sure it isn't Jennifer Y/n, not even she would go this far into her joke" said Colin putting his hands on your shoulders. "Maybe, but i really have no idea who else would do this, joke or not" Y/n responded. "Ye- oh look, here comes Jennifer" Said Colin, making Y/n whip their head around to face the maneater. "Hi lovebirds, the fundraising committee raised enough money to throw a little dance, its tomorrow, you should totally come" Jennifer gave Y/n and Colin a paper with all the info for the dance. "oh, thanks Jennifer" Y/n said, Jennifer responding with a smile as she walked down the hall way. "Why didn't you bring it up?" Colin asked. "Too scared" Y/n responded.

✩The Day Of The Dance✩

Y/n prepared for what was gonna be in their locker today, wondering what it would be. They opened it to find- nothing? Nothing was in their locker today, how weird. "Nothing today?" asked Colin. "guess so.." Y/n said, grabbing their books and closing their locker. "Well, I think I have something better for you" Colin said, making Y/n tilt their head in confusion. "Meet me out near the school entrance at lunch" Colin said before walking off.

During class, Y/n couldn't get their mind off of the dumb little emo boy, not that that was something new. Y/n was anxious about what Colin needed to tell them. Did he not wanna be friends anymore? Is he sick of Y/n?? The only thing Y/n could do was stare at the agonizingly slow clock above the whiteboard.

•°. Lunch Time࿐

Y/n hurried through the crowd of students, rushing through the hallways to get to the gates of the school. Soon enough, they reached their destination, seeing Colin standing next to a Willow tree. "Ah, Y/n you made it" Colin said standing up straight. "Soo what'd you need to tell me?" Y/n asked in a slightly nervous tone, a small pit in their stomach. "Well uh...y'know those little gifts that were left inside your locker?" Y/n nodded. "That was me, I put those there..." Colin said, looking down. "Y/n, I love you, more than a friend should. I was too scared to tell you in person at first, so I put those things in your locker." Y/n was stunned. "I was wondering if you would maybe want to go to the dance with me.." The silence was loud, Y/n stood there in shock. "I-Its fine if you don't want to i-" Colin was cut off by Y/n's lips on his, making his eyes widen, then soften and close. It was a moment of bliss and what the two wanted for a very long time. Colin grabbed Y/n's face as Y/n ran their fingers through Colin's hair. They broke away, giving Colin the chance to ask, "So, is that a yes?" Y/n replied with a simple "yes", too flustered to spit out anything else.

Their secret admirer was finally uncovered.

-----------------------------<3------------------------------

A/N: GrGRG I LOVE THIS PROMPT SO MUCHHH TYSM FOR REQUESTING! ALSO im sorry this kind of sucks, i really tried. imma make the rodrick one next (^_^d)

#jennifer's body #colin gray #colin gray x reader #colin gray imagines

[khaleesiofalicante]

“Mom!” Alec hissed.

His mother didn’t turn back.

“Mooooom,” he called her again – and this time she turned back. “I want to go home."

“Alec, we just got here!” his mother said incredulously as they checked their coats into the coakroom.

The guy in the cloakroom gave Alec a token for their coats.

Jesus Fucking Christ. What kind of house has a cloakroom?

His mother was right. They had barely been here for 10 minutes. But Alec already wanted to leave.

“I’m feeling sick,” Alec said. “I should go back home.”

He coughed awkwardly. He was a decent liar.

“What’s wrong?” his mother looked momentarily concerned.

“Uh,” Alec said, not prepared at all. “I got my period.”

Yeah, so that ‘decent liar’ bit might have been an exaggeration.

“Alec,” his mother sighed. “You think I want to do this? This family is one of our largest donors to the university. As the dean, I have to be here. So do you.”

Alec groaned.

As the president of the queer alliance at Idris University, Alec knew he had to talk to people to get the funding they needed. But Alec hated people and he hated talking. He wished Lily or Maia were here instead.

“I know you have your own ways,” his mother said through her teeth as she smiled at one of the guests who was waving at her. “But you need their support. It’s how the game is played.”

“I hate playing the game,” Alec said through his teeth as he cheerily waved at one of the lecturers.

“You know the rules,” she turned to him and adjusted his bowtie. “Just smile and play nice.”

“But-”

“Be charming ,” she interrupted. “That's how fundraising works.”

Alec pouted and then gave her tight nod.

“Albert!” she shouted at one of the guests and made her way towards the old man.

Alec was about to let out a dramatic sigh when a waiter emerged from nowhere.

“Champagne, sir?”

“Thank you,” Alec picked up the flute. “Damn, this is heavy.”

“Crystal, sir,” the waiter pointed.

Alec’s hands suddenly felt very sweaty. He wiped them clumsily on his suit jacket and held the champagne flute carefully.

Another waiter emerged upon him, holding a tray of hors d’oeuvres.

“What’s that?” Alec pointed at the tray.

“Caviar, sir,” the waiter replied.

“Is that cinnamon?” Alec asked at the sprinkled dust on top of the caviar thingies.

If it was cinnamon, he could maybe eat it and have an instant allergic reaction.

Then maybe his mother would let him go home. He hoped.

“Not cinnamon, sir,” the waiter said as Alec took one and popped into his mouth. “It’s edible gold.”

“What?” Alec asked, his mouth full of caviar.

And gold apparently.

“It’s a caviar and crème fraîche tartlet,” the waiter announced in a surprisingly perfect French accent. “Topped with edible gold.”

“You are telling me this is gold?” Alec asked, chewing the food self-consciously. “I’m eating actual gold?”

“Uh, yes sir,” the waiter said awkwardly.

“But why?” Alec demanded, chewing his food angrily now. “Does it improve the taste?”

“No, sir,” the waiter looked embarrassed. “It’s…pretty.”

Alec looked around in disbelief as the waiter made his escape.

Here he was trying to find a couple of thousand dollars to raise funds for his alliance and these people were sprinkling gold on their food for aesthetic.

“Fuck the rich,” Alec muttered.

“Pardon?” someone said from behind him.

Ah, shit! Alec really hoped it was not one of the professors at the university – or worse, one of the donors.

But when he turned around, it was neither.

It was in fact the most beautiful man Alec had ever seen.

“Uh,” Alec said eloquently.

“You were saying something about fucking the rich,” the man smiled. “If it’s a cult, I’m very much interested.”

“Not a cult,” Alec clarified – when he managed to find his voice. Jesus! “Just a personal motto of mine.”

“Very interesting motto you have there…”

“Alec,” he finished. “Alexander.”

Why did he say his full name? He never did that. Alec could be such a weirdo in front of gorgeous men.

“Nice to meet you, Alexander,” the other man said, and Alec’s momentary regret vanished instantly.

He suddenly loved his name. Maybe a little too much.

“I’m Magnus,” the man held out a hand and Alec shook it – and hoped his palm wasn’t as sweaty as before. “Are you here to donate?”

“Pfft,” Alec couldn’t help but snort. “Right. Cause these people need more money.”

“Don’t roll your eyes at charity, Alexander,” Magnus chided. “It’s not very gentlemanly of you.”

“What’s this charity for anyway?” Alec asked, because he hadn’t even bothered to ask his mom and spent the whole drive here complaining about the university budget allocations instead.

“The rowing club,” Magnus replied.

“The rowing club?” Alec demanded angrily.

They were a bunch of elite dude bros and were the last people that needed charity.

“They are hoping to purchase new equipment,” Magnus pointed out.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Alec complained. “They don’t even need a fundraiser. They can afford that shit in so many other ways. Like ask them sell one of their Rolexes or Lamborghinis. Charity is for people who don’t have alternatives.”

Magnus blinked and Alec realized he had lost his cool a little.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “It’s just…it isn’t fair.”

“The rowing club boys are right there,” Magnus whispered as he pointed at the buffet. “They might hear you and think you are jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Alec replied. “I’m outraged that we live in a society that prioritizes the needs of the marginalized over the wants of the privileged.”

Usually this was the point when the other person would give him an awkward smile and escaped immediately from Alec’s boring rants.

But Magnus didn’t look awkward or bored. In fact, his lips curved a little as he gestured Alec to one of the banquet tables.

“Tell me more,” Magnus said as he sat down.

Alec wasn’t really sure what to say. He wasn’t used to reaching this stage of the conversation.

“Fancy new rowing equipment is a want. They can live without their latest gadget and just make do with the equipment they have,” Alec elaborated. “But the safety of queer youth in our university is definitely a need. It’s not something they should have to compromise.”

“The safety of the queer youth?” Magnus frowned. “How are they at risk?”

“There has been increased reporting of cyber bullying by queer students at the university,” Alec sighed. “Our existing reporting mechanisms don’t work.”

“Well, they could complain to HR and-”

“Magnus, when has HR got anything done?” Alec asked.

Magnus frowned again.

“Our data shows that over 60% of the victims of cyber bullying at the university are not only queer, but also people of colour,” Alec elabored. “So, these attacks are racially motivated too.”

“Why isn’t the university doing anything about it?” Magnus demanded, now sounding angry too. “The dean-”

“She is doing the best she can,” Alec intervened – because he knew that to be true. “We have a zero tolerance policy and that works at campus. But on social media..Well, that’s a whole other thing, isn’t it? You can’t really control what other people say or do.”

Magnus frowned again.

Alec realized that he liked it better when the other man smiled. Maybe he was as boring and depressing as everyone said.

“So, what do we do?” Magnus asked.

“We?” Alec blinked.

“I’m a student at the university too,” Magnus said. “Well, I just transferred from London. But still. As a bisexual man and a person of color, I need to be a part of this.”

Alec was beyond happy that someone understood the importance of his cause. It was hard enough to find people who supported the alliance.

But instead of thanking Magnus for his support, Alec’s mouth said “You’re bisexual?”

“And part-Indonesian,” Magnus replied. “So, what do we do, Alexander?”

Alec blinked. “Well, uh, the alliance has been trying to create an app that provides counseling support for queer youth who face bullying online. We can’t really completely get rid of the bullying. That might never happen. But the least we can do is give support for the victims, right?”

Magnus smiled. And yeah, Alec definitely liked it better.

“That’s an excellent idea,” Magnus said.

“Well, it’s just an idea,” Alec shrugged. “We still need to find the funding.”

“Well, why haven’t you?” Magnus asked.

“Because the donors obviously have other priorities,” Alec rolled his eyes, gesturing at the party.

“Oh,” Magnus said.

“But I think if we steal a plate of those caviar thingies, we might be able to scrap off the gold dust and gather a few hundred dollars,” Alec joked.

But Magnus didn’t laugh. Instead he leaped off his chair, ran towards the stage and grabbed the mic.

First of all, why was there a stage? Second of all, what was Magnus doing?

Third of all, who was he? Was he performer for the fundraiser or something?

He did have a really nice voice, Alec noted to himself. Among other nice things.

“Excuse me, everyone!” Magnus called into the mic and everyone turned their attention to him. “I’m Magnus Bane. My father and I are absolutely thrilled to have you at our home this evening.”

Alec, who was sipping on his champagne, most certainly did not choke at that. This was…Magnus’ home?

He was the biggest donor to the university? Or his father was…But whatever.

Alec’s ‘fuck the rich’ motto seemed a little too ironic - maybe even appropriate - right now.

“As the captain of the rowing team,” Magnus said, and Alec did not choke again. “I’ve just heard word from my brothers that there has been a change of plans.”

The rowing club, still standing by the buffet and hogging all the food, looked very confused.

“The rowing club has officially decided to throw a car wash at the university,” Magnus announced and the crowd started whispering around.

“Dude, isn’t that what chicks do?” one of the dude bros laughed.

“Exactly, Chad!” Magnus yelled. “We will be raising money and dismantling the patriarchy at the same time. It’s a win-win!”

A loud cheer went through the room but some people still looked confused.

“But what about the fundraiser?” a woman who was wearing too many pearly necklaces asked. “Are we not making donations today?”

“Yes, we are Mrs. Morgenstern,” Magnus winked at her. “But all donations from today’s event will go the queer alliance of the Idris University. They are raising money to fund an app to provide psychosocial support to victims of cyber bullying.”

Alec noticed his mother turn to look at him in disbelief. Alec shrugged helplessly.

“Is it really necessary though?” an old man from one of the tables asked and Alec had half a mind to dump his champagne on the man’s head. “Can’t they just have one of those support groups where they sit in a circle and talk to each other?”

“They are victims of targeted harassment, Mr. Starkweather,” Magnus replied politely. “They need support that is consistent, reliable and professional. It seems rather unfair to ask victims to support themselves instead of providing them with the required resources.”

“But aren’t they asking for too much?” a blonde woman asked.

“The app will ensure their safety and mental health. They are asking for the bare minimum,” Magnus answered, and Alec noticed the flash of anger in his eyes.

“But if the problem is cyber bullying,” another man in a suit demanded. “Why can’t we just ask them to stay off the internet?”

“Because that would be homophobic,” Magnus said through gritted teeth - but still smiling. Alec knew that look. “The queer students are not the problem. The internet is not at fault either. It’s people and their privilege. It’s people and their inability to treat others with respect – online and offline. These are students. We can’t restrict their access to the internet. For many queer youth, the internet is the only place that is safe enough to express themselves without fear or judgment. So, instead of asking them to stay off the internet, maybe we should consider asking the bullies and homophobes to practice basic human decency.”

“Damn, son!” someone whistled impressively.

Alec knew that whistle. He was going to hug the hell out of his mother later.

There was a moment of silence in the room, then a man approached the stage and pulled Magnus into a hug.

“What an excellent idea, Magnus!” the man who looked very much like Magnus beamed.

“It’s not my idea,” Magnus said. “All the credit goes to the alliance.”

“Well, I can’t wait to meet this alliance!” Mr. Bane nodded in approval. “Ladies and Gentlemen! What a fine cause! What an important change in action! Allow me to be the first to support these brave and inspiring group of young people.”

“Thank you, Bapa!” Magnus smiled sweetly. “It’s so wonderful to see you supporting this cause. This is going to go viral on the internet.”

The moment Magnus said the words viral and internet, multiple guests got off their seats and started heading towards the donations table.

“He knows how to play the game,” Alec's mother said as she walked up to him. “He would make a fine addition to your alliance, Alec. You should ask him to join.”

“I will. He is bisexual,” Alec replied.

“He is also very handsome,” his mother pointed out innocently.

“Don't even!” Alec pointed a finger at her as she chuckled and joined the crowd.

By the end of the night, the fundraiser had gatherd thrice the amount the alliance needed to create the app.

“So…” he said as he approached Magnus. “I wanted to say thank you.”

“I was wondering maybe you could say it on Saturday,” Magnus suggested.

“Saturday?” Alec raised an eyebrow.

“The car wash, Alexander!” Magnus pouted. “I was here for your fundraiser. It’s only fair that you come for mine.”

“Well, that depends,” Alec said. “Will you be wearing a bikini?”

“Nah,” Magnus chuckled. “I was hoping to go shirtless.”

“In that case, you’ll definitely see me there,” Alec said seriously.

He didn’t even have a car. But he could always egg Jace’s car and take it.

“You want to get out of here?” Magnus asked, pointing at the crowd.

“Uh, isn’t this like your party or something?” Alec asked. “Shouldn’t you be here to entertain the guests?”

Magnus looked around and shrugged. “Fuck the rich.”

Alec couldn’t help but grin at that. He took Magnus’ hand as they ran towards the garden.

Fuck the rich indeed.

- For @radisv​ for being amazing. Always. Happy Birthday. ILY!

#this is a crack fic and I will not apologise :) #malec fics #malec #dani writes stuff #HAPPY BIRTHDAY BEBE I LOVE YOU

[brlankinney]

✨a long awaited michael hate list✨

last year during the first lockdown i decided to rewatch queer as folk again after a few years break from the show. michael has always been one of my least favourite characters and i just needed to rant about how annoying he is, so i have compiled a list of his worst moments. you’re welcome. i wrote all these in my notes app while watching and you will get them without any editing whatsoever. in chronological order: 

s01e03 when justin turns up at woodys to find brian and michael yells at brian because he doesn’t want to babysit. while justin is talking to debbie!!! justin is just a young gay teen trying to fit in and michael is go angy? fuck off you piece of shit 

s01e04 “this is about brian’s one night stand!” / “not just one” / “don’t bet on it”...... my dude.... my good dude michael..... i am pretty sure justin knows more about his own sex life than you do

s01e04 “unfortunately not this one” referring to justin when they were talking about the high suicide rates with gay teens.... michael was so jealous of a guy who had sex with brian that he was annoyed that he wasn’t feeling suicidal? cant relate 

s01e10 when justin moved in at debbie’s place, getting michael’s old bedroom. why was he so annoyed? you’re a grown man, just turned 30 and that bedroom still has all your childhood things in it? grow the fuck up you childish man baby!!!!! 

s01e17? when david and michael held the fundraiser for that senator and michael purposely didn’t invite any of his friends/family because he found them “embarrassing”, then porceeded to yell at his mum when they showed up anyway. the entire storyline of him feeling like he was sooo much better than all of them because he had been to france and got expensive stuff from david? horrible horrible man 

s02e06 saying the only reason brian spends time with justin is because he feels guilty that justin was attacked. it’s almost like he doesn’t know his best friend? what a surprise!!! 

s02e12? getting angry that brian and ben fucked at the white party long before michael even knew ben? brian had sex with everybody how did michael expect to find someone who hadnt fucked brian already? and why are you angry over your partner’s sexual history from before you even knew them? 

s03e01 getting angry at justin for breaking up with brian (which is what he wanted to happen since fucking day 1) and then telling him that he isn’t part of the friendgroup anymore, as if they only tolerated him as long as he was with brian. fuck youuuuuu!!!!! honestly just the ENTIRE episode? upset that justin came to mel and lindsay’s party and that he brought ethan? it’s not your party! you don’t decide who is invited! SAYING BRIAN SHOULD HAVE LEFT JUSTIN DYING ON THE GROUND? literally just scum of the earth!! even if it was just because he was upset on brian’s behalf that should have never even crossed his mind!!!! 

s03e04, he knew what kind of father brian was to gus so why was he so angry at the way melanie and lindsay wanted him to be a father to their next child? he would be the sperm donor and the child’s dad but he wouldn’t be part of the kid’s life more than brian was in gus’ life? how is that so hard to get? it’s not YOUR child? get your own if you want to be an actual dad???? 

s03e07? getting so pissed that ben didn’t want to include him in his HIV-positive life that he “threatened” to infect himself? show some support for your boyfriend instead maybe? what kind of weird move is it to almost stab yourself with a used needle? i totally get what he was trying to do but it’s a fucked up way of going about it 

s03e08, while i dont completely agree with ben taking in hunter from the start and letting him spend the night (which probably has more to do with me being a woman who would have trouble defending herself in case anything should happen), the way michael acted as if hunter didn’t deserve any compassion was.. really bad? he even rolled his eyes when ben gave hunter money and a contact number for them that he could keep. hunter was a CHILD on the street, selling his body for money!!! how are you not more concerned!!!

bouncing off of that s03e10 why is michael getting angry that ben wants to care for this child!! he was in the fucking hospital and i get that now it’s a money problem but you are not listening to your partner? you are talking over him and not trying to come up with another solution to help care for this child!!!! i am FURIOUS 

s04e08 convincing justin that they shouldnt mention to brian that they were aware that he had cancer and had the sugery, but then breaking down the first chance he gets and crying to brian about it? first of, this is NOT about you michael so sit your ass down!! and second of, i get that he was scared of losing brian but at least give justin a heads up that he told brian?? that’s the absolute least he could have done 

THE ENTIRE FIFTH SEASON!!!! michael needed to SHUT UP about melanie and lindsay’s relationship problems in relation to jr because guess what? you’re not the primary parent, this doesn’t concern you! you were the sperm donor who was lucky enough to still be called the dad and be part of jr’s life!!!! shut up about how the baby lives in a broken home and how you want the baby? she’s not yours!!!!!! what is your PROBLEM!!! i will fist fight you

both him and debbie kept saying “whatever goes on between you [mel and linds] it doesn’t matter, the baby comes first”. don’t you think parents living seperately are better than parents living together but fighing all the time? the entire thing makes me so ANGRY 

i MEAN the way michael thinks he is entitled to all information about lindsay and melanie’s relationship just because he was the sperm donor to their baby? insanity 

“why won’t you let me have her?” GOD SHUT THE FUCK UP MICHAEL 

s05e04 i get that michael might have been embarassed at the “housewarming” gift that brian got them and also at the word choices that brian makes but come on? monty and whoever started out by insulting not only the way brian chooses to live his own life but also his business? it’s a civil conversation and yeah brian could have used less harsh words but brian’s lifestyle isn’t new to other people? not even people outside of his small social group? let him live his own life and also let him defend his choices

e05e07 like i get it okay? brian came in late at night and shouted and blamed michael for his and justin’s breakup so of course michael would be annoyed but the way he said “he [justin] left because of YOU. who wouldn’t?” was completely uncalled for? it just really fucking bugs me? this is your best friend who is CLEARLY going through a bad breakup so maybe choose your words more carefully? MAYBE have some compassion just maybe? 

when hunter left in season 5 and michael said “who else would have taken him in? made him family?” WHY WOULD YOU EVER SAY THAT ABOUT YOUR CHILD!!! WHY ARE YOU SUCH A PIECE OF SHIT michael really thinks he is the absolute shit and deserves the world for doing the smallest thing? 

going through the show again really just fleshed out how fucking bad of a person he could be from time to time wow whats YOUR worst michael moment????

#queer as folk #i’m not putting it in the michael tag i’m not an idiot #qaf us #qaf

[stefciastark]

Sickness ~ Webpril Day 27

A/N: Here's my fill for Day 27's sick!Peter prompt :) Peter starts coming down with something at school, and Aunt May isn't picking up the phone, and the school isn't letting him go home until somebody picks him up. I haven't read through this one before posting, so I hope it's alright and that you enjoy the bit of IronDad at the end x

~Read it on AO3

~Read it on FFN

Peter hadn’t gotten sick since he was bitten and became Spiderman. That left many questions unanswered for him, many of which were still left unresolved. One of which was whether or not he could even get sick anymore. Well much to Peter’s displeasure, he could in fact still get sick. And it sucked.

It had started off as a tickle in his throat that had started that morning when Peter woke up but didn’t notice until the end of second period. That’s when the incessant throat clearing started to try and get it to just go away but around lunchtime is when the first proper cough reared its ugly head. Ned decided it would be hilarious to crack a Raid joke, and all that ended up accomplishing was making Peter wonder whether or not bug repellent might be his undoing. Maybe he should start writing his will and ask Ned to get started on his eulogy.

The fun and games really ended when a particularly harsh bout of coughing made it impossible for Peter to catch his breath, and when he opened his eyes - he didn’t even remember shutting them - Ned had slid in beside him at the cafeteria table, eyes bleeding with concern.

“You sure you’re okay, man?”

“Yeah, I’m fi-” The soundness of Peter’s point rapidly diminished as he failed at fending off another round.

Before Peter could backpedal and tackle the monumental task of getting a few words out once more, the back of Ned’s hand met Peter’s forehead.

“Holy shit, dude, you’re really hot!”

“Thanks, but you know I’m after MJ, right?” Peter smirked. If insisting that he was fine wasn’t working, then deflecting with humour seemed to be a solid Plan B.

“Ha ha, very funny.” Ned haphazardly stacked their now empty lunch trays on top of one another and slid them to the end of the table, not bothering to check whether or not they’d fall off the other side. Swinging Peter’s backpack over his shoulder, Ned’s knees buckled in surprise a little bit at the weight. With some choice words that Peter would have laughed at had he been feeling less like a poorly preserved corpse, Ned gave him The Look. Nobody ever argued with The Look.

Peter allowed himself to be herded to the nurse’s office with minimal complaining, knowing that one single cough would botch his argument, especially now. What had started as an annoying tickle that felt like somebody was lightly touching a feather to the back of his throat had turned into what would happen if a deranged person had made a poison ivy salad with croutons made of sand and forced Peter to swallow it.

As soon as they arrived, Peter had a feeling he would be sent home within a matter of minutes. Call it a hunch.

After the thermometer beeped, the display read 102.1 F, and he heard the nurse tsk.

“Told you.”

Peter sent a half-hearted glare at Ned. On any other day, Peter would have been glad to go home early and take a few hours of the afternoon off for himself, but his next class was the one that had the partner project with MJ, and he’d been looking forward to it all week. Plus, it was Friday, so that meant he wouldn’t get to see her again until Monday. Just his luck.

“Do you have a second emergency contact, dear?” The nurse asked from her desk, scrolling through his file on the database. “I’ve tried calling your aunt, but she hasn’t been picking up.”

Peter was initially hit with a pang of anxiety that combined beautifully with his aching head and bones; that was a new development. Before he could catastrophise too much, he reminded himself that May was at F.E.A.S.T all afternoon setting up for the weekend’s big fundraiser. Either her phone was off, or she was incredibly busy, neither of which Peter blamed her for.

“Um, no, not really.”

The nurse frowned in response. “I can only keep you here until 3:10, and I don’t want to send you home alone.” She tapped her pen on the notepad to her right, attempting to brainstorm plans B through to Z.

“Wait, what about Tony Stark?” Ned blurted out. Upon seeing Peter’s indignant expression and the nurse’s blush and look of surprise, Ned quickly added, “From the...the Stark internship. I’m sure he’d love to help.”

“I’m sure we have other options than to call Mr Stark.”

“Calling Mr Stark.”

Oh God. Peter’s whole body tensed. Scrambling for his backpack that was sitting across from where he sat on the medical bed, just beside the chair adjacent to the door, he felt waves of panic crash over him, turning his skin to fire and ice. Or maybe that was just the fever. Damn his phone, damn the fact that he felt like he got run over by a truck, and he prayed to whatever force in the universe that Tony would not pick it up.

It was just Peter’s luck that the moment he had his phone grasped in his hands, that the ringing cut out and Tony’s voice filtered through.

“Hey kid, this better be good, I’m in the middle of a - thing.” Tony paused for a moment, and Peter jumped slightly and pulled the phone away from his ear as a loud clang rang over the speakers. Peter heard a mumbled “shit” over the line moments later.

“It’s nothing, I was just talking about the internship and then my phone picked up your name in the sentence and then it called y-”

“Peter’s sick!”

Ned cut in, yelling over Peter’s shoulder at the phone at the same time that Peter broke into another coughing fit.

The silence picked up where it left off, and only the faint clinks and the sound of shifting tools filled Peter’s ear. “Do you need to go home or something?”

Peter sighed and winced, backed into a metaphysical corner. He couldn’t really lie his way out of this. “Y-yeah, that’s the thing Mr Stark,” he swallowed as another few leaves of poison ivy dancing in his throat. “Aunt May isn’t picking up and they won’t let me go home unless I’m picked up…”

“So, I’m your second emergency contact.” It wasn’t a question, but Tony didn’t seem...anything. His tone sounded indifferent, but Peter couldn’t read him.

Another awkward silence. Peter hated the nurse’s and Ned’s eyes on him, waiting expectantly. Peter cleared his throat.

“It just so happens that I want pizza this afternoon. Happy’s just getting the car ready. Be ready outside, don’t really want to have to deal with staring kids and the,” Tony slammed a drawer shut, “fawning middle-aged teachers.”

“Thank you so much Mr Stark, I -”

“It’s fine, kid. Just don’t get me sick or I’ll put your suit up for auction.”

#webpril day 27 #webpril 2021 #webpril #irondad #irondad fanfiction #peter parker #tony stark #ned leeds #peter parker fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu #marvel #marvel fanfiction #writing prompt #writing challenge #sickfic #sick peter parker #fluff #spiderman #iron man #fanfiction #my writing #my fic #original work #original post

[tianshiisdead]

// some talk about fetishization of asian women, and why it’s really not flattering in any sense. rambles. nothing good. gonna go to sleep now wah

In my home city my family is part of the local Chinese Community 中华协会, my dad is super active and always running between volunteering and fundraisers and helping out the community etc. and putting on events to promote our culture and give the children of the community a place to learn about their roots. They know most of the people there, my city isn’t very large, and most people are regulars although some come and go. They also host wechat groups to help newcomers settle down, get citizenships, learn English, etcetera. 

There’s a pretty large trend of young women straight from somewhere in China who are brought over by rich, older white dudes from the city, stranded, and although I’m sure people ‘fall in love’ despite language barriers and age and all that or whatever, but this trend (and trend of these women being manipulated with their lack of English ability) is very um. Interesting and common. Sometimes they come to the community for help, when their husband makes them sign things they can’t read, when their husbands die and leave them with nothing and they can’t hire a lawyer alone without knowing the language.

This happens in SEA and parts of east asia, I admit I only really know a bit about the stuff that happens in China because I’m very aware of it I guess, there are a lot of white expats who go there and are treated better than even the locals. Expats who go and pick up Asian girls exist, and maybe it’s not ‘harmful’, but their view of Asian women that causes a lot of them to specifically go there and target Asian women sure are. Way too many seem to go on to become that ‘libertarian guy with his submissive asian wife’ trope, and they’re way too proud of it. It’s not great being a trophy, either.

Weeb guys and fetishizers are pretty common over here in Canada and the US. I’m definitely not the only asian women who’s been harassed or taken advantage of by ‘I just really like asian girls... wanna watch anime with me?’ guys, it’s depressingly common from what I know. Sooner or later you bump into them. They’re creepy and predatory, there’s a few reasons it’s not ‘just a preference’ but one big thing I will cite is that there’s a strangely pedophilic slant to it, our perceived smaller stature and ‘baby face’ and ‘innocence’ is highlighted (even tho it doesnt?? exist???) and we are infantilized in the process of being racialized. There’s nothing flattering about your race being relegated to this, even if ‘feminized’ doesn’t sound that bad, it’s made us the target of violence and abuse, and predators who specifically seek out asian girls at a very young age.

The peak of this fetishization is seen in Mdm Butterfly, or more accurately, Miss Saigon. The asian men who’ve been denied masculinity and humanity are relegated to seedy and lowly and weak, the asian women are turned into mindless sexualized objects in need of saving or existing to represent exotic sexuality, an entire group of people deprived of humanity, and that results in (and is then informed by) reality. The US army marched in to ‘liberate’ Korea, but many comfort women were not liberated, they were just turned over to serve the US troops. You see this happen time and time again in US occupied places, Vietnam, sexpats in SEA, violence against women around military bases in Japan and S. Korea is more common. In Asia, the soldiers dispatched there are trained to mow down asian people in general, and sexualize + dehumanize asian women. 

Before all this, in Mdm Butterfly and all associated media, its the repetition of asian men as weak and demasculinized and lowly, and asian women as pining submissive lotuses in need of saving, or exotically seductive dragonesses. And then, of course, there’s cyberpunk, where asian aesthetics are plastered all over the place, and asian presence is removed except for in sex workers to be placed around like decoration, underground, and usually one single heavily sexualized asian woman, the violence against whom is glamourized and sexualized. 

This isn’t flattering, it’s not fun, and I’d not experience it if I had the choice. Accusations of being DESPERATE to be oppressed are always interesting to me for that reason, especially because it usually comes from white people? yeah idk man

#diary #tia complains #racism cw #ig #fetishization cw #again ig #lol #thoughts and stuff #i guess

[all-the-names-are-taken-aaaaa]

Saving Paris Final Straw

"We head back to Paris tomorrow" Tikki said sadly.

"Yeah we do" Marinette putting the last letter in the last envelope. "China is nice but we have a job." Sliding the envelopes into her bag Marinette moves to hug her dear friend. "We will come back when we defeat howkmoth."

"Hey Claude!" Marinette yells to get the boys attention. She inwardly flinches at how loud her voice got. "Yo Mari what's up" the boy says exactly. "Well it's your birthday today. Allegra said these are your favorite." Marinette does her best to act like her normal self as she hands the box to him. Claude takes the box and pauses for a moment "thanks Mari. Didn't know you did this for the whole school" Marinette laughs "we have a small school and you are kinda new so why not?" Claude made a mental note to ask Allen if Marinette always does these sort of things. Something seems off...

"We should head to class" Marionette points in the direction of her class. "Oh yeah we should thanks again Mari" He says rushing to his class. "Sweet you got a Marinette special!"Allan says almost as soon as Claude enters the room. "Of course he did Nette never forgets a birthday." Allegra states as if it was normal "Happy birthday by the way"

"Wait this is normal? Like I'm not in her class and we aren't friends. How does she even know it's my birthday" Claude asks setting the box on his desk. "Well she is part of the student council so she has basic information on everyone. Like birthdays and allergys. And I asked her one time why she did it. I believe her exact words were "it hurts to be forgotten and a single act of kindness can change everything." Allegra reveals.

"It's not just birthdays dude. If she knows something big has happened good or bad you will find yourself receiving some sort of amazing gift." Allan states and Aurora joins "Yeah when I lost the competition last year she made me a whole outfit to wear to the next competition. I tried to pay her but she refused. When Marc got sick she gave his mom some special soup from her uncle. It made him feel better almost eminently."

"Danm she's amazing." Claude says sitting down. Everyone in the school must have some sort of gratitude or respect for her going so far to help. "Too bad her class does not seem to realize that." Kagami stated with a broken pin in her hand. The entire room goes quiet. Kagami rarely enters conversations before class. The fact she was talking and the angry tone her voice held was not something anyone expected.

Allegra holds a sad look on her face "it is true. At this point I'm scared she will go back to..." Another pin broke. Allan gasped. Aurora made a chocking sound "No way. No way it could get that bad again" Allan then screeched "Hawkmoth that son of-" Kagami throws an eraser at him. "She would do anything for her friends. I have seen her fight off an akuma and manage to keep a butterfly away. I was not able to catch her befor she left as I saw it threw the window." Kagami states looking down. Claude felt even more respect for this girl.

"Look eather way she wouldn't want us having this conversation right now. She would want us to calibrate with Claude." And so they forgot for a while.

An akuma alert rang out around lunch. "My lady may I say you look perrrrfect today" chat says completely ignoring the akuma. "Chat we need to talk once this battle is ove" her voice is so plain no teasing on nothing. Chat nods and the akuma is taken care of quickly.

"Chat... My civilian self has been hurt a lot recently. I nearly became acumatized multiple times. I believe Hawkmoth is targeting me so I-" chat rushes forward to hug her "please don't leave"

Ladybug pushes him away "Chat I can not feel anything. No emotions No pain. It is because of a type of medicine. It only does this to a few but I am one of the few. I have to protect Paris so it had to be done" she swings off befor. Chat can respond.

Marinette sighed as she finishes up some of her commissions. "It is so hard to act it out Tikki. I could not do it as ladybug it would only destact me." Tikki sits on her shoulder nodding sadly. The other kwamis did not take the knees well eather but it was their only choice at this point. Even Plag was considering a new chosen if his did no learn to take things more seriously quickly.

A ring went through the room. "Time for another one." Marinette mumbles picking up the bottle of anxiety meds she used to take so long ago. Marinette has a unique reaction to the meds in that she feels nothing. It's rare and can be fixed by changing meds but Marinette lives in Paris and Paris is under attack by a magical supervillem.

One by one people in the school had special days and were greeted by presents from Marionette. The thing that was different was each presents was accompanied by a letter stating how she felt about the person. Several people were moved to tears by these letters.

"Marc what is wrong?" Aurora notices the look of completely shock and horror. He turns the phone to his classmate who lets out a scream quickly everyone rushes over including Ms. Mendeleiev. As soon as she sees the picture "were is she?" Marc drops his phone "Chloe and Nathaniel bought her to the nurse. She's how you described it Allegra..." Horror spreads through the classroom Kagami leaves not long after. It's silent for a long while... "This is their fault." Allan finely speaks. "Those letters were written befor she started the meds. When did she start the meds again" Aurora whispers. "Befor my birthday she went on that trip" Chaude states.

Allegra moves to the front of the classroom and stands beside Ms. Mendeleiev. "Look we do not know everything but we know Marinette. She would never have gone back on those meds unless she absolutely had too. All we can do is support her. Try to avoid her class we are all too angry. It would only cause problems if we acted right now. Everyone try to stay calm last thing we want is an akuma from this." Allegra takes out some chocolate from the teachers desk and hands it out. One of the ways to avoid akumas is to eat chocolate since it is scientificly proven to make people happy.

Later that day however Aurora overheard a conversation between Mylene and a new girl named who likes to be called Mix.

"Wait if all of the stuff Marinette makes is free then were does the costume money go?" Mix asks while looking over the budgeting from former plays and the current one. "Oh I donate it to charity" Mylene is so excited over explaining the charity that she does not notice the concerned look on Mix face. "I already donated this year's amount-" Mylene is cut of by Mix "but we do not have the costumes yet"

"It will be fine. Marinette can handle it" Mylene responds "Mix could you come help me fix some props" Aurora yells from were she is messing with tangled up Christmas lights. "Yeah no problem" Mix rushes over happy to be out of that situation. "Go along with what I say. We need out of hear quick." Auroror whispers. Mix nods. "Dang these lights are busted let's look for Mr. Bernard." Auroror says loud enough for most of the group to hear. "Yeah let's go" Mix says and they leave quickly.

"Fred Haprèle, my apologies about the abrupt meeting" Mr. Bernard sits down across from the father and daughter.

"It's no problem at all to come assist with anything my daughter may need." The man says.

"Yes well as you know Mylene has taken most of the response ability for costumes. We have a budget so there is always a good few hundred dollars. I have always wondered how she got designer cloths for that price though. I figured she worked out a dill with the maker since is a school event. It appears I was mistaken" Mr. Bernard pauses. How exactly do you tell someone their daughter stole to move up in a charity organizations? Of course Mylene winds up proudly explaining everything was free so she donated the money and moved up so many levels.

"You what?" The man stares at his daughter flabbergasted. "It appears she has also already done so this year as well." Mr Bernard states feeling bad for the mad.

"What the hell Mylene that is not your money to give away! Do not tell me your friend refused the money I have seen your plays. They trusted you with a huge responsibly and you do this" Fred Haprèle yells standing up. Only then does his daughter have the understanding to look ashamed. "But it went to charit-" "no it went were you thought you could gain the most from. We are leaving. Mr. Bernard please call me when it is figured out how much is owed and apologize to Marinette for me. She is the one that makes the costumes she is in the same class as Mylene."

Aurora and Mix later found out Mylene was pulled from Drama club until she could pay everything back. The next day they started planing extra fundraisers so they could afford costumes. Marinette at some point popped by and said she would design them for free but the club refused and eventually settled for whatever they could raise would go to Marinette.

Once the school found out about the drama more than Ms. Mendeleiev class started to distance themselves from the akuma class. Only exceptions being Marinette, Chloe, and, Nathaniel. When Marinette was not in class she was accompanied by people from other classes. They respect Marinette and her class was down right toxic. They tried to trip her regularly and said things under their breath a lot. After so many students expressed their concern for the girl in pink it was a matter of time before she transferred classes. It sucked the other teachers how Caline Bustier tried to fight it saying she was the class representative so she had to stay. Going as far as to try to guilt trip the girl. Too bad she couldn't feel guilt and Lila was all to glad to take the position from her. Some reports were made that day.

Though each class wanted the bluenette in their class it was decided she would transfer into Ms. Mendeleiev class.

"I got back on the meds because Hawkmoth is targeting me because of my strong sympathy." Marinette had long since figured out that they knew and just decided to answer their unasked question. The chalk in Ms. Mendeleiev hand shaped. Kagami created a crack in her desk. Allan popped the bouncy ball he was playing with. Auroror and Alegra stood up to get chocolate quicker then they ever had befor. Claude held his hands together to keep from lashing out. Marinette has been through enough they all thought as she lead them through breathing exsersizes.

That is how an entire school minus the akuma class and Marinette stormed the Agrest mansion after a month of tracking every akuma and documenting Lila working with Hawkmoth. They happily hand over the jewelry and footage to Queen Bee and (Nathaniel) Foxi.

The school watches in amusement as the akuma class falls apart. Marinette does no extra favors for them. Only birthday gifts. Her new friends show her her worth.

"Adrain she was never your everyday ladybug. She is everyone's everyday ladybug. She is the reason Hawkmoth is gone. You are lucky she pulled those favors to make sure people don't think you are like your dad" Chloe snaps. "She what-" Adrian starts. "Oh you idiot do you really think the media would not destroy you if given the chance? MDC is Marinette. A lot of people respect her and owe her a lot. Her word alone could end someone's career yet she chose to protect you and your stupid class. Wish Alya good luck with the lawsuits by the way. The warning ends soon. She she really listen to her lawyer when told to remove posts within 24 hours."

#alya salt #lila salt #marinette #miraculous ladybug #miraculous lb #mlb salt #chloe redemption #good chloe #miraculous salt #bamf marinette #ml quantic kids #adrien salt #miraculous fanfic #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #hbic marinette #hbic marinette au #marinette deserves better #class salt

[pearl-star]

Two Way Link

When Marinette cracks and gets akumatized, it’s not what she’s expecting. Hawkmoth is equally confused and more worried than she is. Turns out the mindlink is a two way streak, and her earrings make the link even stronger. Needless to say, some secrets got revealed.

Marinette had allowed herself to imagine herself as an akuma before. It was kind of hard not to when their class started bets for if Marinette or Adrien would get akumatized first. It also didn’t help after seeing Chat Noir’s akumazation first hand. If she ever got akumatized, Hawkmoth wouldn’t win. Oh No. The world would be in ruins. So if it wasn’t already an obvious goal, Marinette made it her mission to never even let a butterfly touch her. Of course she’s only human, and when she’s sleep deprived and dealing with a lot of extra stress her emotions run rampant. Not only did she deal with both night and day akumas for the past week, she also had extra work planning the fundraising events and the school trip. Include all her requests from her friends for different things and her regular school work, Marinette was already at her breaking point. Top it off with a couple idiotic stories from Rossi while the girl would slip in comments dissing the bluenette, and you got the recipe for a perfect akuma victim.

Marinette wasn’t even in the right headspace to try to hold off her emotions. She simply nursed her large cup of coffee, that may or may not be the 6th cup of the day, as she stewed in her seat. Why was her class a bunch of idiots? Like Marinette cared for them still, don’t get her wrong, but they hanged off her every word like it was air. Why didn’t they get curious and do a little research of their own? It would have saved everyone the trouble. And Adrien’s dumb high road advice would do more harm than good. He’s worried about Lila getting akumatized? Try the whole class when the truth gets out. Of course, Marientte had almost been akumatized because of Lila. Maybe she should have slipped that into her conversation with Adrien. That might have changed his mind. It didn’t matter much now though. She had just begun to speak normally around him. He might think that Marinette was lying about it to make him see her way, and that wasn’t a risk she was willing to take.

No one even noticed the butterfly coming into the room. It was only noticed when it landed on the coffee cup that Marinette held and the glowing mask appeared on her face. Very quickly, the class turned around and stared at their class rep. Marinette merely blinked a few times before groaning. “Really!? Come on! I was doing so good until now. Okay, you know what, fine. You want to akumatized me? Whatever. Just put the butterfly somewhere other than my coffee. I need that if I’m going to make it through today. You’re to blame for this, by the way. You couldn’t have just stopped with the akumas for the day could you. I mean one a day is bad enough. Why did you have to do two in one day? And at, like, 2am dude? Really?” Hawkmoth was just confused as the rest of her class. Marinette’s face scrunched up before her jaw dropped. “WAIT! GABRIEL AGRESTE!? YOU’RE HAWKMOTH!!?” The class paused before freaking out. Hawkmoth paled. He didn’t even get time to do his monologue before the girl started to speak out at him. As he started to reading deeper into her thoughts, he realized something. “You’re… Ladybug?” He was honestly surprised that this clumsy girl could possibly be Ladybug. Marinette just scowled. “Oh stop. I can feel your judgment from here. It’s a secret identity for a reason. Of course I’ll act differently with magical jewelry. Except, you don’t act too different than you do in real life. Maybe treat your son better, will you? He needs to have a backbone for when Rossi and Cholé drape themselves over him.” Cholé gasped and Lila tried to turn the tale but Marinette continued.

“I’ll give Cholé the benefit of the doubt since she had been childhood friends with him, but what Lila’s doing is bordering of sexual harassment. And you employed her as a model too. Like do you even care about you own son’s mental well-being?” Gabriel made the mistake of thinking about Lila and Marinette’s face shifted from shock to neutral. “Okay, so you made her spy on Adrien and report back to you as well as cause akumas. Got it. And that’s an interesting fact about her willingly getting akuamtized. Too bad my class has become too ignorant to realize that every word she says is nothing more than bull crap.” Hawkmoth, Gabriel, should have tried to rein her in. However when he tried it, magic was interfering. It was something that Nooroo had warned him about once before when he expressed the desire to akumatized Ladybug or Chat Noir. They would naturally have more resistance to him, especially Ladybug since her powers balanced for good and becoming evil would take drastic measures. Before he could try to act, the girl spoke again. “Oh, it’s nice to know that you at least let Nooroo talk. Seriously, I forgot about that whole Sandboy fiasco for a second. You couldn’t have at least allowed Nooroo to enjoy his whatever number cycle in peace. You had to traumatize so many people by creating their nightmares.” No one noticed as Adrien slipped away to transform.

Plagg flew out of his pocket and had the audacity to be laughing. “What is so funny?!” He demanded. Marinette was akumatized! Not only that, but she was Ladybug. Ladybug was akumatized and the akuma won’t be purified. Nor would any of the damage be reversed. Not to mention that his own dad was apparently Hawkmoth. Plagg caught his breath and was able to speak. “I’m sorry, but it’s too funny! This love square you guys had going on was great entertainment already. Top that with what Spots is doing and it’s gold.” Adrien decided to ignore what Plagg was saying for now and transform instead. While he was doing that, Marinette decided to discover something very important: what Gabriel’s motivation was.

Marinette clamped a hand to her mouth as she pulled the memory from his mind. Then that shock turned to hot rage. “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?” ALL THIS TIME YOU HAVE KEPT YOUR WIFE IN A GLASS COFFIN IN YOUR FUCKING BASEMENT LAIR?!?” Hawkmoth actually flinched from the raw power and anger she emanated. He made the mistake of recalling the peacock miraculous, setting the girl off on another tangent. “AND YOU’RE ALLOWING NATHALIE TO USE A BROKEN MIRACULOUS?!? Wow! Just, Wow!” Maybe if he detransformed and left now, he wouldn’t have to face the girl’s wrath. Nooroo’s powers allowed them to feel the strength of a person’s emotions. Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s emotions showed that even without powers or a miraculous, she would kill him with her bare hands. If he was told a day before that she would be capable of murder, he would never have believed it. Now though, he was scared.

It was at that time that Chat Noir decided to bust in. He was both shocked and impressed that Marinette was still holding out. Maybe if he destroyed the object now she won’t be transformed. Of course would that negatively effect her somehow? Before he could ponder it longer, the girl in question acted first. “You better meet me in front of your mansion and give me both the butterfly and peacock miraculous. You also better fire Rossi and put a restraining order on her so she can’t touch Adrien again. Otherwise this cup will be replaced with your neck.” Marinette crushed the cup with her hand and the butterfly flew out. Standing up, she called on her transformation before her kwami could protest. She swiped the akuma out from the air and looked around. The whole class was quite. Lila didn’t even try to say anything, and in fact she shrunk under her stare. “Alrighty then. Time to go kitty.” She walked calmly out of the room, ignoring everything that just had happened. Chat paused before following her.

Back in his lair, Gabriel detransformed from shock. Nooroo tried to hide his smirk. Wordlessly, he went back into the main part of his house and approached Natalie. She looked confused. “What’s wrong? I thought you were finally akuamtizing Miss Dupain-Cheng?” Gabriel just shook his head and held his hand out. He was slightly shaking. “Just give me the peacock miraculous. Turns out, she’s a lot more dangerous than expected.” Natalie wanted to question her boss, but he seemed to be in shock. She did as asked and followed him as he walked out the front doors of the mansion. Outside was a smiling Ladybug and a concerned Chat Noir. Ladybug’s smile looked dangerous, like she was giving a warning. When Gabriel willingly handed over both miraculouses, Ladybug laughed. A dangerous sweetness dripping out. “Thank you! Also you better be honest with what you’re wife was doing with the miraculous when the police question you. I’ll see if the damage can be undone without the potential for ending the world. Oh also I will be taking your son away. He deserves better parents and I’m sure that mine will spoil him. Chat you take his assistant, I’ll grab him. It’s time to drop them off.” Chat grabbed Natalie and had her over his shoulder before she could react. Ladybug did the same to Gabriel, ensuring that neither could make a grab for their miraculouses.

A lot of things happened on that day. Hawkmoth and Mayura were announced to be defeated. Gabriel confessed to having Lila work for him both as a spy and as a willing accomplish for Hawkmoth. Adrien’s mom was brought to a hospital and Master Fu repaired the peacock miraculous and reversed the damage done to both her and Natalie. Lila was taken off to serve time in juvie and the two adults went to jail. Adrien was not to blame and was unofficially adopted by Marinette’s parents, which resulted in him spending a lot of time at the bakery. Adrien’s mom and Gabriel both revealed how she was forced into the marriage and forced to use the miraculous against her will. She got a divorce and ensured that Adrien got therapy. He was able to quit modeling and even got a restraining order against Lila just in case. He revealed himself to Marinette after a month and they decided to date. Her class did everything to make it up to the bluenette, but she merely shrugged at their words. She could care less now. They only wanted her to be their friend again because she was Ladybug. She and Chat announced their retirement to Paris two weeks after Hawkmoth’s defeat, although she still got to see Tikki and Plagg. It seemed like getting akumatized was the best thing that had happened to her.

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