#she's so TALL and witty just like hawkeye

[majorbaby]

Peggy Bigelow in Movie Tonight, req’d by @pomegranate

#mash #m*a*s*h #peggy bigelowe #s05e22: movie tonight #i have a few more of her coming #this is the first time i haven't edited the lighting because i thought it was gorgeous as is #if you look carefully you can see her face being lit by the movie screen #should i start a 'thirst gifs' tag cuz like not for me but i'm certain for others #she's so TALL and witty just like hawkeye #gif request #majorbaby.gif

[fmabigbangs]

Prompt #1: Ways Royai Celebrate Birthdays

Prompt requested by @royal-mustang​

Writer: @ruikosakuragi // Artist: @mossarts​​

Young!Royai // Rated G // ~1K Words // Fluff

Turning thirteen was supposed to be a big deal. A huge deal.

Now, Riza was an adult, not a child who would need to be watched over and fussed about anymore, even if this “fussing about” had come from her elderly neighbor rather than her own father who was always a few steps away. Now, she imagined she would be able to make her own decisions like, did she want a box of chocolates with her leftover grocery money, or did she want to read that new romance novel that’d been labeled “Teen” on the tallest bookshelf (goodbye Mr. Darcy, and hello Count Dracula!) . 

With every passing year came new possibilities, and while Riza didn’t feel she’d grown an extra inch or sensed a whole new level of maturity from somewhere deep inside… Now—now, everything felt within reach.

Riza cleared her throat, and the intentional bark made the most ungodly sound amidst the quietude of eight o’clock.

“Good morning, Mr. Zirconium,” she chirped. If there was one thing age couldn’t change, it was her sense of humor. Dry and witty. Just like her. Or so she hoped. That, and she needed him to know that she paid him much attention.

The boy of sixteen (he hadn’t quite turned seventeen yet) brought his chin up from his chest, briefly, though his distracted gaze kept bouncing between the thick book on his lap and the freshly-turned-thirteen. Maybe today, just maybe, Roy would notice her in her newly sewn white finery.

“Hey,” Roy simply said. And his dark eyes touched her face for two seconds before poring over his material again. Two seconds. An improvement since last night, though he still seemed completely unfazed.

“What are you reading?”

“‘Modern Chemistry, Sulfur and Phosphorus Volume II.”

“Done with zirconium already? You were just reading that book yesterday,” she mused.

“Yep.”

Her restless feet shuffled beneath her, one big toe tracing an arc on the wooden floor. She folded her hands behind her back, fingers twiddling. “Today is a nice day.”

His head bobbed, up and down, up and down, conceding without meeting her hopeful eyes.

It’s my birthday so… “We should be outside. Enjoy the sun, you know.” And Riza found she could not bring herself to tell him her favorite day of the year. Instead, she sounded like a whiny eighty year-old woman telling her grandson to go play in the sun.

He barely looked up, a mere tilt of the nose, when he finally spoke, “Go on ahead. I’ve got a few more chapters to finish.”

It wasn’t that Mr. Mustang was aloof and unfriendly. He was just extremely busy. All the time. What with her father threatening to throw him out to the streets if he couldn’t get a passing score of 90 percent or better on the next exam. Ridiculous. Three years of living under the same mangled roof, with the early months as acquaintances and a full two as friends, Riza had come to realize, belatedly, that Roy Mustang was that tall and handsome upperclassman that all the girls in her class would want to date.

So dreamy. And oh-so out of reach.

The gravel under the August sun was hot and prickly. With no one else outside but her, Riza was truly tempted to go back inside. Make some tea, and perhaps bake some cake. A birthday was just another day if she thought about it hard enough. And to the boy who’d been on her mind more often than not, it was clearly just another day to study before the big exam on Friday.

But when all hopes (and dreams) seemed lost, an outline of dark hair and pale skin galloped into view like a valiant knight in shining armor. But rather than seeing clanging metal plates and a great, big sword, Roy Mustang rode into her presence with an enormous, plain white box of something.

His hands on his knees, Roy caught his breath.

Riza pointed at the item under his arm, her hazel eyes wide and her chest thumping with awe and wonder. “What’s that?”

He straightened himself out, spine upright, and curled a curious smirk. “I forgot to ask you to post this while you’re out. I don’t have time to do it with the big test coming up.”

“Oh.” And Riza could feel her heart shrink, wilting into her stomach.

But all of his solemnity left just as soon as it had arrived. And then he smiled, warm and wonderful and so thoroughly unexpected. He proffered the box to her, and said, “I’m just kidding. This is for you. A gift. I had to find out the hard way.”

And just like that, the weight of her excitement suddenly felt immense, heavier than the item between her palms. She opened the box, and there lay a copy of Dracula, his mysterious purple eyes piercing into hers, fangs out, ready to take her on a promising adventure of horror and fantasy.

“You… knew?”

“Of course I do,” Roy said. “I pay attention too, you know. You’re not the only one.”

The smile that grew and swelled on her face matched the ecstatic drum of her pulse. She would have given him a hug, but her father had cautioned against touches and intimacy. The last thing she wanted was to get him into trouble. So instead, she expressed her gratitude with a squeal and a stomp, “Thank you! Thank you so much, Mr. Mustang!”

An endearing grin captured his mouth then, and his already ruddy cheeks seemed to burn even brighter in the sweltering heat. With a hand rubbing the back of his head, left and right and back again, Roy said, “Happy birthday, Miss Hawkeye. I hope the proud Mr. Darcy won’t be too sad now that you’ll be reading this book instead.”

Riza laughed aloud without reservations, and she returned his jest with a beam, flaunting her straight white teeth, “I don’t know, Mr. Mustang. I think there will always be a place in my heart for the aloof, unfriendly man with messy dark hair.”

#fma big bang #royai #riza hawkeye #roy mustang #prompt #royal-mustang #ruikosakuragi #mossarts #mod tas #mod moss

[egoiistas]

Please for the love of all that is holy, 38 and Royai.

Let’s pretend it hasn’t been like…..five months since you made this request, okay? ok! Have some young!royai with a little bit of trauma. 

words: 1791 ;; K+ 

“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

A flash of lightning splits across the gray sky. It brightens her vision and she counts the number of seconds before the rumble of thunder reaches her. A gust from the rolling clouds fluffs her short hair and she lifts a hand to block her bangs from covering her face. “The storm isn’t far off now,” she says, turning to her companion. “According to your little trick.”

The city boy stuffs the centerpiece of their funnel cake into his mouth, nodding as he chewed. He swallows with exaggeration, as if he lacked manners. “How far away was that one?”

“Ten seconds,” she hums, calculating. “Two miles away.” Riza gestures towards the Hermanson’s barn; its interior is lit and with faint noises of people at work.  “The planners must’ve known it was going to rain too. They usually have the dancing at the end of the fair outside.”

“Is that right?” He glances over, shaking off the powdered sugar from his hands before stuffing them in his pockets. “How would you know,” He meets her eyes with a glint of mischief in his. “Bring any other boyfriends before?”

Her jaw slacks and a blush heats her cheeks before she can control it. He’s teasing her again and she always falls right for right for it. Every time. She lays it out like funnel cake and he eats it up at her expense. “You are not my boyfriend.”

“Yet..”

Her cheeks burns even more and she nudges his shoulder for lack of a witty comeback as the crowd moves around them towards shelter. She glares at him, “Come on, let’s go inside before it starts pouring.”

It is considerably warmer inside, and the petrichor mingles with the scents of tack, hay, and old wood. A bittersweet nostalgia settles from a time when farm animals were still kept in their barn, and her mother still graced her home.  A band in the corner plays a cacophonous warm up and people begin to situate themselves into seats or within their own crowds. She waves warmly to Mrs. Tilde who runs the bakery and the butcher Mr. Vibert asks for her father, offering a discount as thanks for his help before walking away. She realizes Roy is hanging out a few feet behind her and she motions him to come forward.

“Care to introduce me to the nice people of your town?” He says coolly, but the sway in his stance tells her something else.

Riza hops onto a haystack to sit. Her eyes narrow with a smirk tugging at her lips before she gasps in feigned surprise, “What’s this? Mr. Mustang is shy?”

Roy huffs, “Me? Never.”

“You’ve been here for almost a year. You’ve met most of them already.” She tuts, tapping her finger at her bottom lip. A gathering crowd of curious youths forms before them at a distance, but their sights on the newcomer is clear. “Ah, but it seems luck is on your side today. You won’t have to move a muscle.”

Roy quirks an eyebrow and it flattens with understanding soon after.

She leans into an upturned palm, having witnessed this before.

Tommy Chapman, a tall but stocky boy with a mess of red hair, steps up first. He speaks with a thick, East countryside accent - a rare treat, “Hi there.”

She watches Roy fidget briefly when he notes her absence by his side and awkwardly waves a single swoop of his hand before placing it back in his pocket. “Hello.”

“My names’ Tommy and this here is Bobby, Polly, Duke, Amber, Josh, Billy, Katie, Hunter, Will, and Billy, but he’s small so we call him Shortcake.”

“How do you do?”

Riza clasps a hand over her mouth out of courtesy.

“We know yous livin’ in with the Hawkeye family. We ain’t seen you around an’ we were wonderin’ where you were from.”

His face of confusion shakes her with laughter. But as her father’s apprentice, he picks up a bit quicker than she anticipated.

“Oh, from Central.” He says with his city boy smile. She can spot the twinkle in the girls’ eyes.

“From Central?!” Murmurs and gasps erupt from the small group.

Tommy tells them to hush. “Do ya’ll have lots of cars there?”

“Oh! Are there traffic hams?” Another chimes in. “You know, when there’n so many cars, you’re stopped on the road.”

“That’s traffic jams, you bumpkin.”

“Hey!”

Roy is no stranger to attention, she notes, when he answers each questions born out of fascination. She can’t help the giggle that escapes her as they surround him. He looks at her with pleading eyes to rescue him, but she shrugs in a “what can I do?” sort of way.

“Is it true that there are all sorts of military people there?”

“Are there people with lots of tattoos? I hear that’s becoming a thing now.”

Something within her unexpectedly plummets.

“Tattoos? What are those?”

‘No, don’t.’ Her eyes widen involuntarily and she slides off the hay, the prickling ends scraping at her flesh. Her feet turn into blocks of bricks.

“You know, someone takes some kind of sharp object filled with ink-”

‘Please stop.’

“Like a needle and inks your skin permanently. I saw it in a nickelodeon when I went to visit my Aunt Patsy in the No-”

‘Why me?’

All the noise - the band, Polly, and everything around her - garbles in her mind. Everything is muffled, like someone has stuffed her ears with cotton balls. A flash of cold sweat overcomes her suddenly, then the feel of her skin becomes a numbing sensation and her mind is swimming..

Pictures pop into her sight. Needles. The ink. The dark room. Her father’s study. Her mother’s apron. It burns. Searing, sweltering hot pain. Her arms are too short to reach. She feels it singe beneath her clothes. The funnel cake hangs at the back of her throat , mixed with bile and whatever else had once settled in her stomach. It is all threatening to release from the onslaught of nausea.

She needs to get outside. To breathe, to escape the barn walls from closing in.

When she begins to walk, her strength begins to wane. It seems so easy to just sit behind the hay but something urges her into the downpour.The flash of lightning jolts her, providing her with some clarity to move forward as normally as she can manage. She shakes her head, hands to her temples and closing her eyes to obstruct the images from late nights and silent tears. Riza grabs onto the one of the weight bearing studs for some stability before she wills herself to continue.

She stumbles towards the exit outside of the barn door, grabbing the attention of a few onlookers but no one thinks to pay any mind.

Off to the distance, she hears her name called.

‘Riza, be still.’

She gasps for breath as she reaches the threshold leading her outside.

‘And stop crying.’

The drops from the summer cloudburst pelts at her skin. It seeps into her linen dress and her hair clings to her face in a matter of moments. A hand goes to her chest. She briefly remembers reading about large snakes coiling around its prey. Currently, she feels like prey while an unseen force constricts her breathing. The thunder that roars overhead silences the cold voice of her father from her head. Riza manages to gain some distance from the barn, stepping into wet patches of grass, before her legs tremble and the world goes sideways.

Wrong, she was falling.

+++

The soft patter of the rain stirs her. She groans and notices a warmth underneath her, a comparison to the chill of her wet skin. Riza shivers from a soft breeze and she’s pulled closer to the source of warmth.

Riza’s eyes flutter and she sees the vibrant green shelter of leaves from a grand oak tree, the tiniest rays of sunshine poking through..

Someone gingerly adjusts her bangs away from her eyes, “Welcome back to the world of the living.”

She tries adjust to the light and the sounds around her. The rain splatters on the mud puddles nearby. Her head heavy as a tractor, she moves it slowly to see Roy looking down at her with his tendrils of black hair hanging toward her face, just as drenched as she. “What happened?” She croaks.

“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

She grins at his absurd remark until the memory floods back to her. “Roy, I-” she clutches his arm, her eye blinking with the sporadic drops of rain landing on her eyelashes. His face falls into concern as he reads hers. She releases the tension in her chest and in her face as a sad realization dawns on her. If she were to tell him, absolutely everything, she knows he’d get uppity and risk his apprenticeship. Her eyes quiver at the thought of him going away, losing this opportunity, after achieving so much more than the others. She lets her arm fall. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” he reassures her. “But I did tell you to stay away from that kabob.”

She releases the breath she held and laughs, nodding in agreement., “You were right, it was bad meat.”

“When am I wrong?” Before she can reply, he grunts and lifts her up, one arm hooking her back and the other under her knees.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Riza exclaims, looking around to all corners of the field but him. Her face heats up.

“Taking us home,” he tells her matter-of-factly, taking strides in the direction of the manor. “We’re soaked.”

“Yes, but-” Her fight to prove herself capable is short-lived. Her legs remain mostly unresponsive, shaking with any strength she tries to exert into them. Her arms are subdued by his grasp. Even as she tries to push away, he nimbly readjusts her back in his strong arms and she’s back to square one. She sinks into him, feeling the wet fabric of his shirt on the side of her face, “How embarrassing.”

“You’ll get over it.”

She looks up from her pout and he looks forward. Undisturbed by the rain, he wears a smile that puts her stomach through acrobatics. Her heart decides to join in, landing with heavy pounding and throbbing in her ear when she realizes her predicament. But she hears the thrum of his, through the moist fabric and warm skin - calm and steady.  He almost seems…relieved or happy and she’s silently thankful for him.

She closes her eyes after another string of lightning illuminates the clouds and she counts the seconds before it rumbles in her chest.

#young!royai #my absolutely weakness #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #royai #writing prompt #fma #fullmetal alchemist #fma fanfiction #*shine #hawkeyedflame #IM SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER #IF YOU EVER SEND ME A REQUEST I WILL EVENTUALLY GET TO THEM #SORRY IF THEYRE BAD THO

[hisquccn]

Royai Royalty pt 2

So... again this was supposed to be a one-shot. So here is chapter 2... 

You can read chapter 1: Here

Summary: The prince used to love his gifts from his knights as they conquered new lands, until he realized the blood that was spilled for each new object. As he grew unhappy with material possessions, the knights resorted to bringing him less willing spoils of battle. He has to put an end to their capturing of innocent people... Hopefully his new prize, a blonde with a temper larger than his kingdom, can help him set the country free...

Author’s note: I placed her in an Elizabethan dress, so I tried to be at least a little historically accurate... describing layers of historic dresses are difficult...

The young prince propped himself up on his bed, finally convinced the unwanted captive had given up on her dangerous attempts at escaping for the night. His new 'gift,' so to speak, sat on the floor where he left her, keeping his distance while holding a mirror to examine the bruising on his jaw. “I'm going to have to figure out how to hide this by morning...”

A huff came from the blonde as she curled her knees up, propping her arms loosely on top of them as she avoided looking at the other in the room. “Hate for the kingdom to know you got punched by a peasant woman?” She muttered.

“I'd hate for a young woman to be beheaded because of a bruise.” He corrected. His words held no venom in them, though he hoped, eventually, the young lady would come to find him as less despicable than other noblemen. With a sigh, he went to his feet, grabbing a pillow and the throw blanket at the end of the bed. “I'll get you suitable living quarters tomorrow. For now this will have to do.”

She reached over for the bedding, only for him to pull away. “What? Do I have to say please?”

Roy laughed gently. “No. This is for me. You take the bed. You're a lady, after all, you deserve better than a lounge.” He shook his head, amused at her ferocity as he laid the pillow out on the chaise. “Although telling me your name would definitely be appreciated.”

The blonde stood, stepping away from him quietly as she made her way to the bed. He'd already proven that arguing did nothing. Besides, the idea of sleeping in a nice bed was appealing... What did it matter to her what discomfort came to the prince, after all? “Being free would also be appreciated.” She mumbled. She lifted a leg, attempting to climb onto the bed before placing it back down. She let out a deep breath before trying once more, only to fall into the seat he'd found her in before. “I can't get in the bed...”

He'd only just laid his jacket over the wardrobe when he turned, watching her dance beside his bed before giving up. “Is it... too tall?” He questioned, the answer suddenly dawning on him as she looked back to him. “You can't really move in all that, can you?” He nodded to her clothing, the ruffled skirt, the tight corset, the layers upon layers that most likely weighed her down from truly lifting herself onto the bed.

“It's not a big deal.”

He turned his head, scratching his neck gently. “I would call a maid in here to assist but, well... it's supposed to be my job to do such things today. Calling someone in would... well rumors could be the death of us...”

“Of me.” She corrected. “The death of me, you mean.”

He wanted to deny the claim, but it was more true than he was willing to admit aloud. “Let me help. Only out of the bodice and skirt.”

She had enough layers beneath the bindings to hide her body, though it would still be considered unseemly to be found in such a state with a man. “I'll hurt you if you try to go further.” She muttered, submitting if for no other reason than to get some well deserved sleep.

Roy nodded, stepping over to her as she turned away. He could see the goosebumps rise on her neck as his hands went to help her from her gown. Each garment was laid carefully on the bed to their side, the petticoat and the farthingale soon joining the outer gown. What she was able to remove herself, he allowed her, not wanting to feel any more of her body than she was comfortable with allowing. At last they were to the bodice, the most binding of all she'd worn that night. Moreso than the ropes on her wrists or ankles, than the way they'd tied her up before dropping her to her knees on the palace floor, the strings pulled tightly behind her, sealing the boning of the contraption against her skin, forcing her bones into a shape they were never meant for, was the worst of all cages.

Her high neck smock hid her body from him, a realization he was glad for. The situation was uncomfortable enough as it was, especially for the woman he'd been assisting. Had she been in a lower smock, she'd have been revealing her collarbone and shoulder blades to him or the length of her leg where her stockings might have been held by garters beneath the lower hem.

With each inch that was loosened from the bodice, he felt her ribs expand, lungs filling with air more with each breath. He'd always held pity for women who found it necessary to dress so painfully, wondering what was appealing about the idea of seeing a young lady faint from breathlessness due to fashion. As he slid the bodice gently over her shoulders, he watched her body relax slightly. “Thank you...”

Roy couldn't help the small smile as he picked up the pile of garments from the bed. “You're welcome.” He said simply, numerous witty comments playing through his mind, though he refrained, for now. “Will you be able to sleep?”

As he turned to her, her hands were on her sides, gently rubbing as if to count if any of her ribs were broken. It wouldn't have been unheard of, especially if it had been her first time in a corset. Nevertheless, she nodded, still looking away from him. “I can sleep on the lounge. Now that I'm not in that... mess of a contraption you people call fashion.”

A warm laugh left his lips. “With as badly as you're hurting after that 'mess of a contraption' was peeled from your bones, I think you deserve the bed.” The young prince turned down the lamp, watching as she climbed into the bed before he settled himself on the chaise. As much as she was one to argue when it came to his chivalry, she gave in when it came to her comfort, it seemed. Or perhaps she was finally realizing that he would keep the distance he'd promised, and she had nothing to fear from him.

Trust wasn't something he expected to gain. Not that night or any other. If she could at least feel safe, however, instead of feeling like a trapped bird, it would be enough for him. “I'm sorry.” His voice came from the corner of the room, his form hidden in the dimly lit room.

“I thought you said you didn't ask for this.” The woman replied, her voice as gentle as his for once. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

“I'm sorry you were stolen from your home. I'm sorry you were given to me like an object one could place value upon. I'm sorry for many things.”

“You can't be sorry for the problems the world has, Prince. Sorry won't fix them. And I wasn't stolen. I was bought for you.” She corrected. “So at least that's a little guilt off your shoulders.”

“Bought? You were a servant?”

“I was a daughter.” She replied. “A daughter of an apothecary with large dreams and little funds. Taxes came due and past due. When it came to losing our home, his research, and his lab, he chose to lose me instead.” With a bitter laugh she added. “I'm the same value as a house, my lord. I'm quite the gift.”

His words were spoken around a frown, his expression heard in his voice. “You are much higher value. Humans... humans are not valued as things. No matter the ground on which they stand. Upon dirt or marble. Grass or stone. There is no cost high enough to be placed upon their heads, milady.”

Whether the shock on her face was true, or a trick of the dying light, he might have never known. Her voice was quiet as she turned, almost muffled by the sound of the bedding as it shifted. “Riza.”

“I'm sorry?”

“My name. It's Riza Hawkeye.”

The young prince smiled at that. “I've earned your name. Does that mean I have your trust and respect to go along with it?”

“Only the name. It was the least I could do after having you undress me.” There was a gentle laugh in her voice, quiet enough to have been missed if not for the way it caused the male's chest to clench. “You told me I wasn't yours... whose am I?” She asked, the smile in her words fading. “Who must I pay or appease for my freedom?”

Roy laid his dark head back, resting his hands over his chest. “You are your own.” He answered simply. “I'm going to get you out of here as soon as I can. As soon as I know you will be safe upon your leave. Please, miss Riza, be patient with me until then. I will get you your own living quarters. I will have them dress you as you deem appropriate. I will make this a life you can be content with at the very least. All I ask is that you are patient with me. I will set you free. I promise.”

The light of the lamp finally died out as the room went quiet. There was nothing more to be said. He wasn't sure if she'd trust his word. She was true before, what reason was there to trust him? Sure, he'd behaved thus far, but it wouldn't be unheard of for men to be so cunning as to trick women in such a way as to play the game as a kind heart, only to leave a broken soul upon the game's end.

He hoped she'd hold him to that promise. Keep him at his word. He would do the best he could for her, just as he would as king. If he couldn't save a single girl from himself, what hope did he have for his own country?

#royai royalty #royai #royai fanfiction #riza hawkeye #roy mustang #fmab fanfiction #fma fanfiction #roy x riza

[sickandvomiting]

multiples of twoooooo

Wow this was a lot of questions haha! Thank you!!!! It was fun :D

————-is your room messy or clean?Messy. Definitely messy.

do you like your name? why?No I don’t. It’s boring just reminds me of the Christian values that have been pushed in me since birth that I don’t agree with and that have caused me and my sister more harm than good over the course of our lives.

describe your personality in 3 words or lessSarcastic, caring, witty (????) Alternatively, quirky, asshole, and curious.

what kind of car do you drive? color?I drive a metallic grey Scion IQ. It’s tiny and fantastic.

how would you describe your style?Weird. And probably ill fitting for my body type but fuck society I’ll wear short shorts if I goddamn want to. Really though I have like two modes: biker girl with leathers and dew rags and skinny jeans, or crazy bright colors and patterns and overalls and flower crowns and converse. There’s no in between.

what size bed do you have? Twin. Lifted. It’s nice.

if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why?Austria. Just outside Wien, I think. Wien is one of the safest cities in the world to live, I already speak the language, many of my idols (composers) lived there and roundabouts, and there’s mountains and shit there which is super cool because here in OH it’s just flat for miles and miles and miles in every direction. favorite makeup brand(s)Ummmmmm, the cheap ones??? I can’t afford expensive shit…. Though I did get some eye shadows from online, a company called BH Cosmetics, for pretty cheap and they are FANTASTIC. So shiny.

favorite tv show?You can’t do this to me man I can’t choose just one there’s way way way too many that I LOVE.

how tall are you?5'2".

do you go to the gym? Nope. Too self conscious. I do work out but in my own home.

how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment?Ha. Haha. Ha. One single dollar. That’s it. One dollar and an empty debit card.

how many pillows do you sleep with?Like six or seven I wanna say? Honestly the pillows take up more of my little bed than I do.

how many friends do you have? A few close ones, and a couple not so close ones, and one or two acquaintances.

whats your favorite candle scent? CINNAMON. I love cinnamon scented ANYTHING.

3 favorite girl namesSaoirse, Jacqueline, and Fritzi haha

favorite actress? Currently probably Daisy Ridley just because she’s so frickin cute I die

favorite movie? I CANT CHOOSE ONE OH MY GOD

money or brains? BRAINS for sure. Money doesn’t matter.

how many times have you been to the hospital?I wanna say like three times in my entire life. And only twice to emergency services. Once for physical, once for mental. I’ve been in and out for studies and testing and ultrasounds and shit all the time but I don’t think that actually counts.

do you take any medications daily? I’m supposed to but have I been? No RIP

what is your biggest fear? Failure. And disappointing others. And being abandoned.

whats your go to hair style?The “I barely brushed this when. Woke up and haven’t washed it in like three days so I’m just gonna hide it under a hat” style. Or a high ponytail if a hat is too hot.

who is your role model? I have a lot of them. One is Sta//cy Pers//hall, a mental health activist and author with BPD. One is Hawkeye Pierce from M*A*S*H, minus the drinking and womanizing. Another is a cardiologist I shadowed who was honestly the sweetest man I’ve ever met. And there’s plenty more. Like, A LOT.

what was the last text you sent?To my sister: “Dad is being disgusting and racist help me”

what is your dream car? Pontiac GTO, 1967. Black. Those things are sexy as hell and they’ve got enough torque in there to make the good start bouncing when you rev the engine.

do you go to college? Yes. I’m a biomedical engineering major with minors in German and American Sign Language, and maybe a cluster in Piano Performance who knows hahawould you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs? UGH rural for sure. I’ve always wanted to live on a huge plot of land in the country. Own goats and cows and horses and chickens and lots of cats. Maybe have a small field to grow and sell sweet corn and a corner of the big yard designated to fruit trees and blueberry bushes.

do you have freckles? If I get enough sun, I get a few light ones on the bridge of my nose. Other than that, no.

how many pictures do you have on your phone? Too many. I hoard pictures it’s kinda bad.

do you still watch cartoons? No not really. I watch some animated films *cough*Ghibli*cough* but those are hardly cartoons.

Favorite dipping sauce? Ummmmm ranch??? Maybe FLG sauce from KFC just because I lived on that shit for the year I worked there in high school?

have you ever won a spelling bee?Yeah. Won the class then the school-wide one in fourth grade, went on to counties and then got out on some stupid hard word when the kid before me had the word “ballerina” and the kid after me had “thunderstorm”. Fuckin BALLERINA AND THUNDERSTORM. I’m still goddamn salty all these years later.

can you draw? I like to think so haha

what was the last concert you saw? Tony Bennett, still alive and kicking and a great showman at 90 years old. He did the last song a Capella with no microphone and honestly it was one of the greatest things I love him.

Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts?Don’t really give a fuck but since Starbucks is more available at my school, Starbucks.

what is your crush’s first and last initial?Don’t really have crushes. More squishes. And a lot of them. Hahawhat color looks best on you? Dark reds and oranges, probably. They match my hair.

do you sleep with your door open or closed?Closed. I’ve got a personal AC unit in my room and I ain’t sharin’ that with the whole rest of the house. No way that cold air is mine.

what is your biggest pet peeve? There’s a lot of them. Mansplaining and patronization are up there, chewing loudly is too, getting unreasonably upset about tiny things, belittling people for things they can’t control (or literally anything else), bad spelling/grammar in educated native speakers which shows that they’re just not trying…. basically everything my dad does….

favorite ice cream flavor? Cake batter, cotton candy, mint chocolate chip, and cookies and cream.

chocolate or rainbow sprinkles? RAINBOW.

what is your phone background?A picture of my lovely cat, Cheddar.

do you like it when people play with your hair?Depends on the context.

do you wash your face? at night? in the morning?When I shower and sometimes in the mornings if I have time. At night if I wore makeup that day but that’s rare.

have you ever been drunk? Nope. Which is simultaneously a good thing and kind of unfortunate. favorite lyrics right nowMozart’s entire “Leck mich im Arsch”. A beautiful and wholesome piece. \s

day or night? Night. I love the stars. Also the temps are way lower so walking at night is nice

favorite month? Tied between December and February. December is Christmas and my sister and Beethoven’s birthdays (they share one), and February is my birth month.

who was the last person you cried in front of? Campus public safety I think. I was having a panic attack at like 4 am in the lounge and someone called public safety to make sure I was all right and they found me bawling, hyperventilating, rocking back and forth, and ripping a newspaper to shreds. They were a little confused to say the least haha

#g talks #long text #asks #ask meme

[iamartemisday]

To all fans of Lokiday

I’ve been thinking about this a lot over the past few months, weighing the pros and cons and wondering how you would all feel about this.  It was a difficult decision to come to, but I think now is the right time to do a full rewrite of Lokiday.

Below is the new first chapter as I have redone it.  You may notice some significant differences between the original and the new version.  I would like to know your opinion either in a reblog or an ask.  

I understand some of you might not like these changes, but I think if you keep an open mind, you will see why I concluded that it was in the story’s best interest to improve on it in this way.

Thank you, and I hope you all enjoy the brand new Lokiday:

Day 65: Jane Foster

Jane gets a paper cut.

She pauses turning the page of her magazine, and brings her index finger level with her eyes. A neat trail of red blood slides down the pad. She presses her thumb against it.

The wound stings.

She presses harder.

As Shakespeare once said, there's no better start to a story than masochism.

Okay, he probably didn't say that. Would've been fitting if he did, though. Did you guys know he once had a character off herself by swallowing fire? That's almost as cool as when I ran that guy over with the Zamboni.

In case that obvious film reference didn't give it away, this is Deadpool! Here to offer my insightful and witty remarks about this lovely fanfic that is still incomplete despite having begun in 2012.  Because what kind of lazy ass bitch does that? 

Anyway, lso, as I'm sure you've already figured out, this is an April Fool's joke and she's not actually going to rewrite this fic. Just wanted to clear that up in case some of you are nerds who totally fell for it.

If so, hahahaha! You're the butt of the joke. Ha.

When she's done, her fingers stick together, and she meets slight resistance separating them. Her thumb is stained with blood. She flexes the joints experimentally, lips puckered. Jane kisses the air and sucks in a breath. Then, she's on her feet and off the tall lab chair.

Suspense! I love suspense. I need some popcorn. And a chimichanga.

(OBLIGATORY CHIMICHANGA REFERENCE QUOTA: FILLED)

All around her are half finished equations and equipment strewn around haphazardly. The walls are covered in pictures of various constellations she learned about in elementary school. Those not on the wall stick to her shoes when she steps on them. She hasn't cleaned up her lab in a long time. There's no point in trying anymore.

She reaches the sink and runs cool water over her entire hand. She entertains the idea of rubbing soap into the wound. That would hurt like hell.

Oh yeah baby, you do that. Ooooh yeeeeah! You dirty girl.

Jane doesn't do this, but she does marvel at how far gone she already is for the millionth time in what feels like days.

Feels like, because it really should have been days.

It's not, though.

It's just one.

Just one, single, solitary day that's gone by.

Mmphf! Mmphf! Mmphf-mmphf mmpfh.

TRANSLATION: That's some damn good popcorn. Tastes like chicken if chicken was popcorn.

(OBLIGATORY OBSCURE REFERENCE NO ONE WILL GET QUOTA: FILLED)

Mmphf!

TRANSLATION: I'm on a roll!

Jane snorts and walks back to her seat. She swipes the magazine off the table, throwing it at the opposite wall. She doesn't care, she can't read the damn thing anyway.

SHIELD had been so accommodating when sending her off into thinly veiled hiding. They set her up with colleagues that spoke fluent English, and were fairly close to her in age so they'd have plenty to talk about. Her bed had nicer linens than a five star hotel, and the equipment she'd been given to work with had reduced her to an excited child at Disneyland the first time she saw it.

And yet they still couldn't get her one measly magazine in English. How typical.

That reminds me of this one time when I was hunting down this guy in one of those back alley dive bars, and I caught him, and I was like 'Where the fuck is Francis?' And he was like, 'something something not English but probably in the area of please don't kill me Deadpool something.' So I was a bit perturbed and then he tried to run away. I was like, 'fuck no, compadre!' And then I shot him in the dick. Like right in the dick. Wasn't even on purpose. Just a lucky shot I guess.

So yeah, kindred spirits me and Jane right here.

The useless ream of paper hits the floor with a satisfying 'flop', and then Jane feels an icy chill run through her. She shivers, more at the temperature drop than low, ominous chuckle that follows.

Oh oh! I know! I know exactly who it is!

It's Hawkeye!

"That's not polite."

Jane closes her eyes. She doesn't want to look in that mirror on the opposite wall and have to stare at his smarmy face right now. Maybe if she keeps quiet, he'll go away and never come back. Or maybe he'll just talk more.

Wait no, not Hawkeye. No one would ever not be happy to see him. Have you seen his biceps? So dreamy…

"Someone's going to have to pick it up."

"No one comes in here but me," she says. "Even if they did, what do I care?"

Yeah, Loki, what do you take her for? A neat freak? She's a scientist. Scientists and neat freaks go together like fish and cheese. Like Al and workable eyeballs. Like Francis and life.

He tsks. If Jane were two feet taller and a million times stronger, she'd punch his face all the way in and then maybe rip his tongue out for good measure. Let's see him tsk at her then!

Fuck me, that's hot! Hey, what if we made a few tweaks to this story? Like making it a Deadpool/Jane fic? I'm down with that!

Just need to think of a ship name…

"Now, now, Jane Foster, you don't wear apathy well."

I can think of something better for her to wear! It starts with an 'L' and rhymes with 'schmeather bustier!'

She turns around. She was going to eventually, so she might as well get it over with. His bright green eyes stare down at her, a small smile gracing his features. His stance is calm, collected and arrogant. In short, everything Jane expected of him.

Loki was a lot of things, but never a disappointment. Not to her.

Eat your heart out, Ironman! No performance issues here as confirmed by a reliable source!

Now fully facing him, Jane notices he's in full battle garb. He even has that crazy helmet on. Maybe he's going to fight again, or maybe he's got another trick for her up his sleeve. She'd put neither above him. At least now she has a comeback.

"And you don't wear those antlers well, but it's never stopped you."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH SNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!

Burn.

His smile vanishes, and Jane smirks, feeling accomplished. Full blown laughter builds, but she doesn't let it out yet. He exhales through his nose, fingers curling into a ball. A long time ago, this used to terrify her. Now, she just wants to laugh harder.

So what about GunScience? That a good ship name.

Hmm… seems a little plain to me. I'll keep working on it. Back to the story!

She doesn't feel like alienating him further, though, not this time. He hasn't been around for three 'days' and she doesn't care to be apart from him. That just means she has to face the fact that she actually wants him around. It's a feeling equivalent to getting repeatedly kicked in the gut and winded.

Pfft, I could handle him. If you saw what I did to that doucherocket Smith, you'd know.

Hint: It involved narrow appendages being forced in places narrow appendages should not be forced in.

With that in mind, let's make Deadpool/Loki a thing too! Much easier to come up with a ship name.

I give you… FrostMerc! Huh? Huh?

…

Well fine, be that way. I'm not sharing any of my popcorn with you guys now.

Jane moves away from him, walking briskly to the mini-refrigerator in the corner where her endless supply of bottled water is kept. She pulls out two, opens one and tosses the other over her shoulder. She knows he'll catch it.

"So," she says conversationally, as if this super powered mythical figure and potential world conqueror who once almost destroyed her hometown was just another girlfriend of hers. "What's on the agenda for today? You're all dressed up and ready to go. You must have something big planned."

He doesn't answer.

"Gonna cause some destruction?"

He still doesn't answer.

"You know, burn down all the buildings, slaughter all the innocents, kick all the puppies, anything?"

Nothing.

He's still mad that he got burnt to a crisp with that antler's comment.

He got destroyed. Pulverized. Demolished beyond all recognition. The metaphorical narrow appendage is all the way up his-

And now Jane is getting fed up, not to mention confused (definitely not concerned). He's usually way more talkative than this.

Didn't they sew his mouth shut in one of the myths? I think they totally did that once. What a disgusting, reprehensible, unforgivable thing to fucking sew a man's fucking mouth shut.

Amirite? *cough*FuckyouFoxneverforget*cough*

She faces him. His eyes are on her, but his mind is elsewhere. He sees something Jane cannot, something invisible and directly in front of her from the looks of it. She really hates when he gets like that, when he closes off completely and never explains himself. He seems to go back and forth between treating Jane like a person, and like she's just a bug he can squash under his foot. Jane's not exactly in the mood for that today.

When they're still in mid-character development and not sure if they want to be a douchey Not-British Brit, or a dude from that Jane Austen book Not-British Brit.

Just fanfic things.

"Don't tell me you're doing this for me," she says mockingly. If there's one way to get to Loki… "Because I'll be honest with you, you look much better without that helmet on. It's very unflattering."

Oh. My. God. Becky. Like that girl in her plaid and jeans knows anything about fashion.

She blinks her eyes, and he's right in front of her. Jane stares at his armored chest nonchalantly. She wonders when he'll realize the novelty of that trick wore off 'days' ago.

"Do not test me," he growls.

Wait, I got it! AssassinScientist!

…nah, too long. People would just abbreviate it or some shit.  I’m not here for that.

Jane tries to ignore the speeding up of her heartbeat and the building heat in her stomach. Of course he has to use that voice when threatening her. Of course he knows exactly what that husky tone of his does to her every single time. And, of course, this whole miserable situation has turned her into a borderline suicidal masochist who just has to keep pushing him.

Accept it, Jane. Accept… and ye shall be free!

And living the dream of millions of fangirls. That too.

"Just admit that you're as bored as I am," she says. "You probably thought about going after your brother and the Avengers today, but then you realized there's no point. There's no point in anything unless we can find a way out of this."

His frown deepens with every word out of her mouth. His eyebrows knit together in a scowl, and his hands ball into fists. Jane could swear his eyes flash red for a second. It excites her about as much as it used to terrify her, and that's a whole other batch of implications she absolutely must avoid dwelling on. She kind of needs what little sanity she has left, thank you very much.

Sanity? Girl, take it from an expert. Sanity is overrated.

Why, if I was sane, I wouldn't be the ultra hot star of the highest grossing R rated film of all time, now would I?

I didn’t think so.

Jane's already seen his Jotunn form twice, which is two more times than Loki would have liked. He still won't explain why he hates his heritage so much. Jane's asked him more times than she can count, and all she gets is silence, or commands to be silent, or screaming and cursing before he disappears to God only knows where for several 'days' at a time. The most she's ever gotten out of him is that the Frost Giants are savage monsters who would rip the flesh from her bones if she gets too close.

They sound fluffy!

She doesn't really get it. He's not all that scary with blue skin and red eyes and no other noticeable changes in appearance. Hell, the blue people in Avatar were creepier looking. If Jane were to fear Loki for anything, it would be the fact that he's a psychotic mass murderer bent on world domination who could tear her head off with his bare hands if he wanted to. That knowledge, like so many other things, had lost its edge a long time ago. Even when he bares down on her like this, so much bigger than her, eyes speaking of dark intent, Jane can't bring herself to fear him.

Yeah, CGI Smurf mutants really start to lose their effect in the face of all that.

Then again, that might be why they keep making those stupid Smurf movies. You see what desensitization does to you? Now studio hacks think people want more of those despicable balls of malformed play-doh on our screens. This is a national crisis! Wake up America!

(PLEASE NOTE: Neither Deadpool nor the author has ever seen a Smurf movie.)

Hey hey! Don't give it away!

She could still fear what emotions he did bring out in her, though.

"You should watch your tongue around me, Mortal," he says with that voice again. Why always that voice? "You might not like the consequences if you don't."

The underlying threat is palpable. There are so many different ways he could carry it out, too. Jane won't pretend not to know what they are. They spill incoherently into her mind all at once. She knows who Loki is and what he is and what he can do. He's been nothing if not eager to show her in the previous 'days.'

I smell a sex scene!

Jane smiles innocently, he hates that. She runs a hand across his shoulder and down his chest, he likes that.

Must get more popcorn.

She pulls herself closer to him, their faces inches apart. She supports her body with one hand on the table. It doesn't slide away from her as it should. Trust Loki to prepare for this. She doesn't see them leaving this room anytime soon.

Mmphf!

(Translation: Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, and summer's lease hath all too short a date…)

"Really?" She blows in his ear. He loves that. "Because I think you're all talk."

Happy Groundhog Day!

He seizes her by the arms, pulls her down roughly, and then his lips are on hers, hard and unforgiving. A moan is caught in Jane's throat, she doubts he'll relinquish her mouth long enough for her to let it out. His large hands are everywhere at once. One minute, he's fondling her breast through her shirt, the next he's running them up and down her legs, coming so close to her core that Jane feels she'll come apart at the seams if he doesn't touch her soon.

He does know how to tease.

Hey, ladies out there. You know what I like? What I really really like? *wiggles eyebrows*

Puppies! Puppies are adorable, aren't they?

His tongue forces it's way in. There is no fight for dominance this time, because it's clear who is in control and that he intends to keep it that way. Jane's own hands move across the metal of his armor. That damnable armor he just had to wear today. His casual (in the loosest possible sense) clothes are much easier to remove. He usually steps in with that fancy magic of his pretty quickly. In fact, he should have by now. Is this what he meant by 'consequences?'

Loki snakes an arm around her thin waist, hoisting her up and on the table. As soon as Jane's back makes contact, she is hit by a blast of ice cold from below. It doesn't take a scientist to figure out that somewhere in the millisecond it took him to do all this, he also magicked her clothes off. Jane rolls her eyes and thinks of commenting on this, but then his tongue is in her mouth and coherent thought is but a distant dream.

Kittens are also cute. With their little paws and their ears and the traces of demonic evil lurking below the surface.

He gets up on top of her, never once breaking the kiss. She brings her hands up to his warming face and runs her fingers through his thick hair, down the back of his neck, to the collar of his undershirt and dammit all, why is he still dressed?

He smirks against her lips.

"Frustrated, my dear?"

But you know, bunnies have got to top them all in cuteness factor. I cried for days the first time I saw Fatal Attraction.

Jane wants to slap him so badly right now. Instead, she kisses him harder. He groans in response and raises her up a little so her chest is arched into his. He wrenches his lips away and Jane cries out in protest. She stops complaining when he moves down to her neck, and then her breast. As his tongue swirls around her nipple, Jane struggles to come back to herself.

Have I killed the mood yet?

(Yeah, probably)

Awesome! My work here is done! Farewell, my friends- Wait, what? What do you mean the chapter's not over yet?

There is a digital clock on the wall marking the time as ten after four in the afternoon. This gives them plenty of time to go about their routine. To make stiff conversation, to try once again to find out what's happened to them and how to stop it, to descend into yet another pointless argument about nothing, to threaten and be threatened with death and injury and a bunch of other nasty things, to fuck each other senseless in bed and on tables and on the floor and in the shower and against the wall and on top of the bathroom sink and in the mess room and in her direct superior's office (boy, was that ever memorable).

Then the next 'day' comes along and, like everything else around them, the cycle repeats anew.

No changes.

No changes.

Okay this time, I know I've got it! Assassin didn't work, scientist didn't work, but you know what does work?

Deadpane!

Get it? Because it sounds like deadpain, and when I'm out there killing all the monsters and murderers and Francis's of the world, I know I haven't done my job right if there isn't lots of pain!

So now that this hypothetical Me/Jane ship has a proper name, let's get back to the story!

*cough*seriouslythoughshippersgetonthat*cough**cough* Boy, do I have a nasty case of the sniffles today!

Jane sometimes wonders what her friends and family would think if they could see her now, naked with her legs spread underneath a psychopathic Norse God.

They'd be like, fuck yeah, you lucky bitch! Score!

Least I would. Have you seen that tight Hiddleass of Loki's? Almost as nice as Wolverine's.

Like Logan gets a 97 out of 100 while Loki is easily a 96.8. 

Her mother wouldn't like it.

Erik wouldn't like it.

Darcy… would congratulate her on getting laid.

See? Someone gets it.

Jane can't help giggling. Loki, who has been trailing open mouthed kisses up her neck, bites down hard and makes her gasp. She fists his hair as he licks a hot line back up to her mouth. He re-claims it, pulling her head up slightly with one hand while the other continues to travel.

Her arms are around his waist, and he is still fully dressed.

Bastard.

Yeah, bastard. Strip already!

His lips are relentless, his tongue even more so. She feels deft fingers between her legs, and shamelessly moans into his mouth when they stroke her. She writhes beneath him, knowing that's exactly what he wants.

Loki always gets what he wants from her.

After sixty five days of working for it, you would hope.

'Remember Jane,' she tells herself when he strokes her again, and then finally, with a wave of his hand, is as naked as she is. 'Three benefits to dealing with Loki Laufeyson. Remember them!'

I can think of way more than just three, but we only have half a page left.

Benefit number 1: He is, so far, the only other person in the world who knows what's going on.

Except for the reader. Times like this fourth wall breaking would come in handy. Why is it so out of style among fictional characters? I don't understand the world.

She feels the muscles in his back, lean, but rock solid. He's shifted positions, so that his erection is pressed firmly against her.

Benefit number 2: As the only other person who knows what's going on, and as a powerful sorcerer with a genius level intellect, he's also the only other person in the world who can help find a way out of this.

It's funny because when this was written, I'm pretty sure not even the writer knew a way out, didja?

(Fuck off, Deadpool)

Hey now, this was your idea for me to do this.

He removes his lips from hers again, and Jane immediately attacks his neck, returning the favor with a bite of her own. Loki growls in response, and Jane knows he's going to make her pay for that.

She looks forward to it.

Benefit number 3…

*leans forward in anticipation of incredible revelation*

He steadies her hips with his hand, and uses magic to keep the rest of her restrained. Jane finds she can still work her mouth, though, when he thrusts into her and the friction and sheer pleasure of it all makes her scream.

…He's spectacular in bed.

Six out of ten at best. I am not speaking from experience, it's merely because I am obliged to count myself, and I am an outlier whose sexual prowess would make Zeus feel like an awkward virgin.

Sorry, that's just a fact. I don't make the rules.

And with that, I have completed this little venture of mine. Stay tuned next April Fool's Day, when I review the last chapter of Lokiday!

…HA! April Fool's! We all know Artemis is never going to finish anythi-mmm mm. Mmm?! MMMM! MMMMMM!

(And then Deadpool could no longer speak because he suddenly transformed into the first movie version who got his mouth sewn shut!)

MMMMMMMMMMMM!

(Happy April Fool's Day!)

#Lokane #Loki #Jane Foster #Lokiday #fic rewrite

[imaginetonyandbucky]

imagine tony being unpopular with superheroes – hello, former weapons mogul and a jerk in general – but he is somehow considered very attractive by supervillains, cause his snark and brains and just good looks. so tony's like what the hell, i might as well flirt with dr doom/magneto/loki while I beat their asses, and he does. what tony fails to notice is that his team is actually really attached to him, and his flirtings with the villains make a certain one-armed supersoldier really mad and sad.

One bad Idea After Another

Six months is what Tony had promised Ross; sixmonths of pretending to be a team again, so that the people of the world couldsee, and go back to trusting, maybe. And then Tony was fucking out of here. Hewas retiring, he was locking his house to every so-called Avenger on the planetand he was going to live out his life in his workshop with things that he couldprogram and shape and build and not get stabbed in the back by. (He totallywasn’t counting Ultron here, because his programming had been mostly flawless;the mind stone had fucked that up but good.)

Which was five months and twenty-nine dayslonger than he wanted to work as a team with the pack of liars, betrayers,hot-heads, murderers and idiots. But he’d done distasteful thingsbefore. He kept a paper-chain in the penthouse, and each day, he tore off alink and threw it away.

But that wasn’t now, and it wasn’t today, and…

“Hey, Erik,” Tony chirped, after Magneto hadpinned him to the building. Fighting someone who could control metal as someonewearing a metal suit was pretty stupid, admittedly. The only more stupid thingwas being an X-person who had metal running all through their bones. “Good tosee you again, gorgeous. Really, you have a wonderful skin care regime, becauseI swear, you don’t look a day over fifty.”

Running his mouth was really all he could do;Magneto could crush him inside his tin can, although for whatever reason, heoften didn’t. Tony wasn’t sure why, exactly. Magneto had never made hisfeelings unclear about how much less worthy humans were. Humans like Tony, whoweren’t experiments or mutants or aliens, but just simple ingenuity were onErik’s particular dislike list. Especially, as he said, homo sapiens andtheir guns.

Tony, as a leading weapons developer andmanufacturer for most of his entire adult life, was especially despised.

So, being a sticky-note smart ass was Tony’sonly option, because, of course, shutting up and minding his own business wouldhave been the wise thing to do, and Tony was never wise. Or capable of shuttingup.

“Oh, nice swing, Babe Ruth,” Tony quipped asMagneto used a semi-trailer to backhand Hulk about half a mile away. “Youforgot to point though, before you hit him. Really, Erik, you’ve been doing thesuper villain thing for a long time, you’re losing your edge with the wittyrepartee.”

“Tony, shut up,” Steve said in his earbud, andthat was just too much, because under no circumstances – and it was even inthe contract he’d had his lawyers draw up before he agreed to Ross’s demands,because, see, Steve, some of us are fucking capable of compromise – was Steveallowed to tell him what to do. Ever. Ever again.

“You know, what, Erik?” Tony said, glancing overagain. Magneto was playing pile the car on Steve, which really, Tony kindaapproved of. “I’m being really sincere this time. How do you look so good? Imean, you and Charles have been bashing it out for a while now and I never evensee you with a black eye. I have a black eye almost constantly.”

Magneto turned his attention to Tony, havingcleared the field of Avengers for the time being. “Do you ever shut up?”

“When someone’s dick is in my mouth, sure,” Tonysaid, winking. “It’s rude to talk with your mouth full.”

Magneto didn’t even turn, just thrust an arm outbehind him and the Winter Soldier went flying backward, dragged by hisadamantium prosthetic. “Really?” Erik looked… intrigued, rather than disgusted.Not really the plan, but okay, Tony could roll with this. “I thought youpreferred women.”

“I prefer sex,” Tony said, easily enough. “Dick,pussy, whatever.” That was true and he was surprised that Erik didn’t know it.He thought everyone knew about his sex tapes, and Ty Stone had not been exactlyshy about talking out of class.

Erik held up one hand and star-fished hisfingers. Tony’s armor responded, brutally stretching him out, spread eagle. Hnnnnng,okay, well, that was… something else entirely. Magneto flew over (how did thateven work? Did the guy wear tap-shoes or something?) and hovered about sixinches away. He had brilliant blue eyes with a ring of steel gray around theedge, an oval face, and a great chin. His lips were a little thin for a reallygood kiss, but Tony’d made do before.

“Uh-huh,” Tony said, nodding slowly, giving hisbest inviting look. “You know you want to try it out, see if I’m as good as myrep.”

Erik slid his hand into Tony’s hair, the back ofthe helm retracting neatly into the collar and he bent forward.

Which was exactly when Spidey grabbed Magneto’shelmet with a wad of spider-goop and Wanda floated up behind Erik, undetected,to red-mist whammy Erik’s attractive ass into oblivion.

Tony barely managed to get the repulsors workingagain to not smash into the ground some ten stories below when Magneto’s powersuddenly released him.

Ha! One for the home team.

“So, how ‘bout next time, Captain,” Tonysnarked, “you just let me do what I do best and leave me the hell alone?”

Barnes was there, having dropped out of hiscreepy Winter Soldier routine and was lacing Magneto’s arms behind his backwith plastic cable while Erik was there and totally blissed out on whateverbrain-shaping delusions Wanda was feeding him. Jesus, that was fucking scary.Both of them. Wanda doing her weirding-way finger gymnastics as Erik’s eyes sparkledruby red, and Barnes staring at Tony with… disappointment? Anger? Tony had noidea, didn’t want to know, and the less he could manage to speak with Barnes,the better, as far as Tony was concerned, because Steve got all weirded outwhen they even looked at each other for too long and the tension was murder.

“And what would that be, exactly?” Steve asked.“Being a world-class slu –” And Steve’s voice cut off suddenly when Barnesthrew a rock at him. Accurately. From over half a block away. Nice aim.

“Shut up, Stevie,” Barnes’s voice came over thecoms, rough and low and somehow soothing. “Tony just saved all our collectiveasses by bein’ a fuckin’ good distraction.”

There was something vaguely amusing about Barnesinfantilizing the captain that way. There was nothing quite like having yourchildhood friend around to remember that you weren’t always a bad-ass. Tonyspared Barnes a quick grin and was shocked when Barnes smiled back. Tony’dnever seen that smile before, not outside of pictures, and certainly neverdirected at him. It was wide, genuine, showed quite a lot of white,perfect teeth, and competed with the sun for brilliance. Tony staggered back astep, not sure what that feeling was in his stomach, but it was… something.

“Huh,” Tony said. “Nice to be appreciated.”

Madam Hydra was unfairly hot, Tony thought. Andenormously tall. Even in the armor, Tony was about nose-level with herimpressive rack.

Also, she carried a whip as her weapon ofchoice. Which, while painful, was also kinda hot.

Green hair was a nice touch, as well as thegreen lipstick that made her mouth look both luscious and poisonous at the sametime.

Despite the fact that her whip was wrappedaround Tony’s throat – seriously, what was it with my neck that people findit a convenient hand-hold? Come on, really, pull my hair sometimes, too, that’sokay – she was not hurting him. In fact; she rubbed up against the armoras if it was turning her on. Maybe it was; she was, after all, straddling him,her skirt hiked way up around her powerful thighs.

“You should reconsider your stance, Mr. Stark,”Madam Hydra purred, her long fingers running down the side of his face. “Wewould be much more appreciative of your unique skill set as we rebuildHydra.”

Suddenly Barnes’s metal hand was wrapped aroundMadam Hydra’s throat and he lifted her bodily up, kicking and gasping weakly.Which was all good and well, except her whip was still around Tony’s neck, sothis dragged him up – he really, really hated it when the suit got powereddown in the middle of combat – by the neck.

“Come on, Red October,” Tony managed to gasp.“I’m all one for a little breath play, but this is getting ridiculous.”

Barnes stomped down on the whip, yanking it fromMadam Hydra’s grip, which was nice as far as the whole breathing thing went,but was a little less pleasant in that Tony was now on his knees, stuck atBarnes’s feet.

Falcon and Hawkeye rushed over to relieve theWinter Soldier of another Hydra baddie, with magnetic handcuffs and a fewsnarky remarks, pushing her off toward the armored prison car.

Leaving Tony still crawling on the ground infront of the Winter Soldier, which just seemed like eight kinds of bad plan toTony. But of course, no one else ever worried about how Tony was dealing withhis so-called teammates. That hadn’t been part of the agreement at all.

Barnes moved his foot and knelt down, puttinghimself on eye level. “Are you okay?” he asked, unwinding the whip from aroundTony’s throat and tipping back Tony’s chin with oddly gentle fingers to peer inTony’s eyes. “You got a little singed, there.”

“The choking wasn’t so bad,” Tony said, tryingto stagger to his feet and the armor was just heavy enough that he let Barneshelp him. “The electric current came as a bit of a shock, though.”

Barnes laughed, low, and shook his head, hisrich brown hair scattering around his face. “Always with the bad jokes,” hesaid. “You always play off gettin’ hurt like it’s nothin’?”

Tony got his fingers inside the collar of hisarmor and punched the emergency release, letting it fall around him. Crap; he’dforgotten that he’d been sleeping when the call came and he was, in fact,mostly naked under the suit. He’d grabbed a pair of boxer briefs from thedrawer before Friday had closed around him in her comforting embrace, otherwisehe’d be stark naked. Ha ha.

“Jesus, Tony,” Barnes said, and for just amoment, Tony thought there was disgust there, for being undressed in public,for being an old man, but instead, Tony caught Barnes’s eyes, flickering frombruise to bruise, the needle-marks from the suit’s pharmaceutical package thatlet him take a licking and keep on ticking not even faded. “Doesn’t anyone evertake care of you?”

“Friday does,” Tony said, flatly, trying to pullaway.

“Come on, doll,” Barnes said. “Let’s get youchecked out before you head back home, yeah?” And Barnes’s arm was locked loosearound Tony’s bicep, pulling him gently toward the medical van. Which, normally,Tony wouldn’t have accepted – he hated medical care with an unholy passion –but Barnes didn’t leave his side the entire time, talking and telling storiesand getting Tony involved in an analysis of Star Wars physics long enough forthe medics to wrap up his sprained wrist, stitch closed a laceration in hiscalf, and plaster an icepack over his eye.

Barnes wrapped Tony up in a blanket and rodewith him in the car back to the Tower. And God, Tony was tired. Maybe Barneswas lulling him into some sort of false sense of security, or something, but atthe present moment, Tony wasn’t sure he wouldn’t just sigh softly and letBarnes kill him, if he was so inclined. It might hurt less.

Instead, Barnes walked him into the penthouse,helped him lay down on the bed, and as Tony was drifting away into sleep, hethought – probably he was dreaming already – that Barnes kissed him on theforehead. “Get some sleep, Tony. I’ll stand guard.”

The club had been a good idea, Tony thought. Heleaned against the rail at the VIP lounge and watched the lights flare,listened the pulse and pound of the music, the taste of top-shelf on histongue. There were some pretty people in the lounge with him, no one whose namehe knew, or cared to know, and surely someone would be interested in a littlenudge and whisper later in the night. He needed that, needed it so bad. Thealcohol was good, but some no-strings sex was just what the doctor ordered.

Particularly as far away from his fuckingteammates as he could get.

Being alone in a crowd while in the club was atleast familiar and safe. No one in the club scene had ever wanted anything fromhim that he couldn’t provide; a quick lay, a bit of cash, a good time, a smoothdrink.

His gaze traced the crowd, a seething mass ofbodies, pressed together obscenely, slick with sweat. There was no room toreally dance, just sort of find a partner, whatever gender, and grind upagainst them. Except then the floor cleared a little, to make way.

Hot moves comin’ through, the general moodseemed to say.

Tony’s eyes widened fractionally. He’d heardthat James Barnes could dance – Natasha liked to talk about their days at theRed Room together if you got a few glasses of red wine into her – but Tony hadthought it was the ballet, or maybe the Lindy or something like that. Butapparently Barnes knew club moves and music-video type dancing, too. Or someonehad been taking pole-dancing classes, what did Tony know? It’s not like histeammates talked to him anymore.

Tony threw back his drink and the girl at hisside laughed and poured him another. He almost wanted to leave, before hestarted thinking of Barnes as a human being and not just… except he couldn’tlook away. There was something sweet and sinister about the way the man danced,calling partners to him with a quick twitch of his fingers, spinning them intohis dance, then weaving them right back out. He wasn’t there with anyone, hewas there as a predator, chasing the prey that lurked in the clubs, drawingthem in, finding them lacking.

No one could match him, not even for a moment,and Tony found himself more, and more, drawn to the heated sensuality of theman, the way his hips moved, the way his legs seemed to go on forever, encasedin black leather pants, the way his shirt was rucked up, baring a strip of hisbelly and back.

Tony let his jacket fall to the floor and headedout to the dance floor. He tapped his watch, and Friday muttered an unheardcomplaint in his ear, something something drinking, something something sideeffects, but Tony wasn’t listening. He wasn’t a bad dancer himself, even if hewas getting older, and he needed the jolt of his mix-drugs cocktail for some ofhis fancier moves, especially given that he was still a little sore from thatlast fight.

If he was going to make some sort of claim, somesort of impression, he needed every advantage he could get.

At first, Barnes wasn’t even looking, didn’teven notice who’d moved into his dance space, and then, with that quick flashof lighting-up-the-room smile, Barnes had taken Tony into his arms and theymoved as one. It was slick and heated and easy and the best damn thing that hadhappened to Tony in a long time. It was bliss.

At least that was what he thought, right upuntil Barnes nudged him back into the VIP lounge and started kissing him on thesofa. “Been watchin’ you all night,” Barnes said, his voice a low, husky growlthat went straight from Tony’s ears to his groin in a bolt of wanting. Despiteall the booze and the drugs and the girls and the men, there was somethingabout that moment that was utterly sacred. Tony touched Barnes’s face with agentle hand, wondering and confused and wanting and terrified all at the sametime.

Barnes’s cold metal hand slid under Tony’sshirt, touching and tugging at the fabric.

And then he wasn’t there at all.

Thor had taken a great double-handful ofBarnes’s hair and dragged him backward, leaving a cold hollow where the supersoldier’s warm body had been only moments before.

“What the hell?”

Thor shook Barnes like he was a misbehavingkitten and the man dangling from Thor’s godly grip shimmered, shuddered, andsuddenly –

“Oh my fucking Christ,” Tony said,scrambling backward away from Loki.

“Brother,” Loki said, practically purring, “I don’tknow what you’re all upset about. I wasn’t going to hurt him. I was giving himexactly what he wanted.”

“In such a manner that would badly damage thetrust we have worked hard to restore,” Thor said, his voice booming.

“Trust?” Loki scoffed and twisted, which causedThor to curse and drop the trickster god to the floor, where Loki gazed at hisbrother with that signature look of mixed longing and hatred. “There’s notrust. Your precious midgardians have wounded and betrayed each other to suchan extent that you have almost lost the one who started it all. I only wishedto give him ease.”

Tony got up, recovered his coat and straightenedhis tie with some semblance of recovered dignity. “Next time you want a pieceof midgardian ass, Loki,” Tony said, snarling, “come to me as yourself andwe’ll talk. But don’t pretend to be something you’re not.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you, Iron Man,” Lokisaid, his voice light and mocking, “what it is to pretend to be somethingyou’re not. But I know the truth; I was just a mirror for what you trulydesire.”

Tony didn’t look back. He didn’t want to seeLoki’s mockery. He didn’t want to see Thor’s sympathy.

And he sure as hell didn’t want to be tempted bywhat Loki was promising.

This was getting old. It was getting old, it wasgetting boring and it was getting fucking predictable.

Tony didn’t bother to struggle in Doom’s grip;he knew exactly where this was going, and he was so bored with it, he justwanted it over with.

“Yeah, yeah, skip to the end,” Tony said.“Captain America kills you, your death kills me, everyone else lives happilyever after, the end.”

Doom’s hand didn’t move; he kept his fingertipspressed to Tony’s chest. The suit was slagged, only Doom’s power kept it frombroiling Tony alive. If Doom died, he’d stop holding the heat at bay and therewas nothing Tony could do.

But Steve had Doom at a disadvantage. Doom’sarmor was broken, had been in the long struggle, and the back of his neck wasexposed. Steve was right behind him, with the shield. One move, Doom’s spinalcolumn would snap and then Tony would die in the miniature volcano that hissuit had become.

Well, that’s what happened when you fuckedaround with the fabric of space-time. You got really weird goddamn results.

“Remove yourself from Doom’s presence,” Doomdemanded, not looking at Steve. “Or this man will die.”

“That’s not much of a threat, Man in the IronMask,” Tony said, looking past Victor Von Doom’s shoulder at Steve. “What’s thelife of one man, one soldier? Hmm?”

Steve winced at that, hesitating.

“Just do it, Captain,��� Tony said. God he wastired. Exhausted. “Finish it. We all know everything’ll go smoother, if it’sjust you at the helm. I’ll get a tragic, heroic ending. S’what I always wanted,you know that.”

“Tony –”

Tony stopped listening. Steve had lost his rightto call Tony by his name; they weren’t friends. They’d proven that. “Just geton with it, Lone Ranger,” he said to Doom. “Let me go.”

“That isn’t what Doom wants.” And Doom stood up,one hand around Tony’s shoulders and the other scooping him up so he was in agoddamn bridal carry, and that was just fucking fantastic. Doom ignored Steve,utterly and completely, walking away as if Steve wasn’t even there at all. Theslits of Doom’s mask showed brilliant brown eyes, glittering with malice and…desire? Really? Good lord, what was it with the fucking bad guys recently thatthey were all getting these stupid little crushes?

“So, what’s the plan?” Tony couldn’t move, hishalf-melted armor still held him in place. “I mean, you do have a plan, don’tyou, Iron Maiden?”

“Doom pities you, Iron Man,” Doom said, hollowand booming. “So betrayed. So tragic. So unappreciated. Doom wishes to show youthat there are other options.”

“You think my tragic backstory is earning mevillain points?” Tony asked. “Is that what all this is about? All the badguysin the world are trying to recruit me?”

“You would be a worthy ally,” Doom intoned. “Andif not, life in Latveria can be your retirement.”

“That was almost romantic,” Tony said. “Goodtry, I appreciate it. Can I get down now, because really, I’m just not feelingit, here.”

“You do not want down,” Doom said, carrying Tonyonto his fucking Doomship, or whatever the hell he was calling it these days.

“You’re telling me what I want, now?” Tonyrolled his eyes, really that was a bit much. Everyone acted like they knew whatTony wanted.

“Everyone wants the same thing,” Doom said,reasonably. “Even Doom. A home, appreciation. Family. To rule the world.”

Tony would have shrugged, but that just wasn’tpossible. “Too much like work. I think you’ll find I’m a really highmaintenance boyfriend. You’d be better off picking someone who’ll be a betterhelp partner for you.”

The gangplank closed behind them and Doomgestured again, letting his powers flow through Tony like riverwater – dirty,choking, ugly, and fucking cold. On the plus side, also put the fire out in thesuit. Which was still busted all to hell and back, but at least Tony wasn’t indanger any longer from a really radical tan.

Doom helped him with the armor, and Tony foundhimself trailing along behind like a lost puppy while Victor did hisevil-seduction-plot which was nicer than Tony had expected. There was food –and carefully selected at that. Someone had been studying his preferences –and new clothes (nice, a Desmond Merrion, and that was a little creepy, becausethose were very exacting measurements and it fit perfectly. Damn!) – and aroom aboard the Doomship. A lot nicer than Tony had been expecting.

Sure, okay.

Doom removed his own armor, the flowing greencloak folded neatly over a chair. He peeled out of the metal plates andgreaves, leaving them behind. Victor strode behind the dressing screen inTony’s doomroom and came out wearing his own suit, just as nice, as tailored,as the one he’d had ready for Tony. With a quick flick of his hand, Doom tookhis mask off and tossed it aside.

Wow. Okay. That… that Tony was not expecting.

“Well, rumor isn’t true, I guess,” Tony said,not quite able to look away. Victor Von Doom was gorgeous. Breath-takinglybeautiful, with a wave of silver hair that spilled into his face and deep browneyes that watched everything Tony did from under a frame of dark lashes. A tinyscar, just under his eye, didn’t mar Doom’s appearance at all, just sort ofadded to the rugged appeal.

Victor smiled, a quick, sly tip of his lips.“You, of all people, should know better,” he said. “We’re not what we seem tobe, behind our masks.” He snagged a cherry tomato off the tray of food that hadbeen presented for Tony’s supper.

“Yeah, still think I gotta pass,” Tony said. Hebrushed by Doom toward the exit of the Doomship – he didn’t really have aplan, but he always worked best when he improvised.

Doom reached out, snagged his wrist in a gripthat wasn’t rough, just enough to say Wait, stop.

“Give Doom – give me, a chance,” Doom said, andhe drew Tony in, kissed the back of Tony’s neck, which sent shivers up Tony’sspine and urged a gasp from his lips.

Oh, what the hell, why not? Tony wasn’t going toget what he wanted, he might as well take the next best thing. He turned, letthe movement draw them closer. Victor’s mouth came down on his, warm and sweetand gentle, nothing like the sort of kiss Tony was expecting.

And, unfortunately, quite honestly, nothing likewhat he wanted, either.

Tony wanted a lover who would pull his hair andbite his neck. A lover who wouldn’t give, gentle and go softly into thatgoodnight. He wanted a demanding, ravenous, hungry sort, who’d never let Tonyrest, who’d wrench screams from his throat as he rode through Tony’s pleasure,who’d want and need and take…

I was just a mirror for what you truly desire…

Yeah, okay, subconscious, I get it already. Tony sighed, inward. Maybe that was why all the villains weretrying to pick him up; Tony was giving off “I want a bad boy” vibes likenobody’s business.

The ship rocked, suddenly. A strident blast ofalarm bells sounded, the lights flashed red.

“Always, with the vexations!” Doom broke off thekiss and stormed off to wherever the pilot’s chair was, presumably to makemincemeat out of whoever was firing at them.

“Christ,” a familiar voice said, startling Tonyso badly that he knocked the salad plate right off the table. “What is it withyou?” Barnes pushed open the closet door and stepped into the room. “Everyonejust wants to take a bite out of you, don’t they?”

“Is this a rescue?” Tony rolled his eyes.“Because I’m not sure I need to be rescued right now.”

“Stop bein’ contrary,” Barnes said, “an’ let’sget the fuck off this boat before Falcon an’ Thor bring it down.”

“Why would they do that?” Tony asked. “Doom wasleaving.”

“Because you’re part of the fuckin’ team,”Barnes said. “We ain’t leavin’ you behind, and we ain’t lettin’ you getkidnapped by the worst fuckin’ guy in the world, doll, even if he does seemmore like the wine an’ dine type.”

“It’s not doing anything for me,” Tony admitted,looking around the lushly appointed room. “Much as I hate to admit it, so ifyou’re rescuing, go right ahead, don’t let me stop you.”

Barnes shoved a chute-pack at Tony, then led himthrough a maze of corridors to an outer hull wall. “Come on, doll,” he said,wrapping one arm around Tony’s waist. “I’mma blow this wall out, then we jump.”

“Together?”

“There’s only one chute, so, yeah,” Barnes said.He drew a hand-cannon from his holster and pointed it at the wall.

And because it was Tony, he couldn’t stop hissmart mouth from running, even at the very worst opportunities. “What, no kissfor luck?”

Barnes whirled, looking straight into Tony’seyes; shock, want, desire, confusion warred in Barnes’s steel-gray eyes. “‘Boutfuckin’ time,” he said, grabbed Tony’s jaw and kissed him.

And this?

This was a kiss. No sweet, tentative explorationor gentle nudges, but a soul-searing, leave ashes behind experience. Barnesravaged Tony’s mouth, took possession, left no survivors. Everything, everyoneelse was burned in his wake. His lips were fast, rough, uncompromising and Tonyfelt the kiss all the way down to his toes. It consumed him, destroyed him,made him want more, and made him want nothing else, ever. It was hot,slick tongue and brilliant, talented lips and the scrape of teeth just on theedge of pain, and yet, it was still more than that. A crescendo wave offeelings and needs and desires, of wants and necessity. It was thirst that nowater would slake, hunger that no food would ease. It was everything.

Barnes tore himself away from the kiss,reluctance in every muscle in his body, written on every line in his face.

“Wow,” Tony said. “What was that?”

“A damn fine start,” Barnes said. He turned,shot the wall, then kicked it open. He wrapped his arms tight around Tony.“Jump, already, doll, time’s wastin’.”

Tony nodded, tucked his face against Barnes’sthroat, and leapt.

There were a lot of things that Tony hadexpected, in his life. And a number of things that had taken him completely bysurprise.

Being peeled out of a twenty-thousand dollarsuit and fucked sideways into the ground by a very relieved and eager JamesBarnes had never been on the list at all, but Tony would take it.

“So, what is this?” Tony asked, as they werecurled up under the parachute silk. “Another one of my very bad ideas?”

James nuzzled at Tony’s throat, softer now thatthe edge was off, but still eager, still wanting. Tony didn’t want to admitjust how attractive he found that.

“It’s redemption,” James said, finally.“Darkness in me calls to th’ darkness in you. Maybe,” he linked their fingerstogether, “maybe we c’n find the light together.”

What had Steve said, that one time? If welose, we’ll lose together.

And maybe that had been the wrong idea, allalong. Maybe what they needed to do was win. Together.

“Together?” Tony squeezed James’s hand, tippedhis head back again to accept James’s eager kiss.

“Always.”

Always. Always sounded nice. Tony thought hecould get with that particular idea. And then he couldn’t think of anythingelse at all, except what James’s hands were doing. And his mouth. And other….

Together. Always.

Author Note: http://rdjlock.tumblr.com/post/154269133774/taste-you-doomtony-fanart-anad

I admit that I took this prompt SPECIFICALLY because I saw this gorgeous fucking artwork a few days beforehand and I wanted to capture the moment. I hope @rdjlock likes the tribute to this piece of work, because man, I did not ship it before, but WOW…

As always, you can follow me on @tisfan and A03 for more winteriron and other Marvel fics and pics

#winteriron #tony x bucky #tony stark #bucky barnes #victor van doom #villains have needs too #prompts #tisfan #Anonymous

[mustangsgloves]

Unspoken

Read on AO3

Alright, this is my second (my apology gift, really, it’s over 5000 words of fluff) for Shay, in which I attempt to tackle one of her favorite tropes (characters A and B have to stay at a hotel and there's only one room with one bed)...

once again - thanks to @the-musical-alchemist​ for listening to me flip out about how to write this, I appreciate it always, Gio ;-;

I said it already, but I’ll say it again - Shay, you’re one of the greatest people I’ve ever met, simply because of who you are - you’re always kind, passionate, thoughtful, and are extremely talented and witty.  In short, you’re just incredibly wonderful.  Thank you so much for being you, and have the happiest birthday possible.  Hey, now you can rent a car and come visit me!!!

“Are you kidding me,” Roy grumbles, tightening his grasp on his small bag as he stomps his snow-packed boots on the porch of the building.  “Of course Grumman sends us to the most remote town, in the dead of winter, splits up our team, and gets us reservations in what has to be the absolute filthiest looking place I’ve ever seen.”

“Relax, sir,” Riza responds.  She flexes her frozen hands to try to regain feeling in her numb fingertips as she switches her bag from left to right.  “You’ve seen the rest of this town; the entire place just doesn’t have a lot of money.  I’m sure the inside is nicer.”

“Whatever you say, Captain,” he retorts.  Riza sighs at his snarky-tone, but doesn’t challenge him, knowing that the last thing that she needed was to argue with her superior officer when they were both cold, hungry, and exhausted.

Riza follows as Roy enters the small hotel, and the door creaks shut behind them with a resounding thud.  Roy blinks as his eyes adjust to the dimly lit, and decidedly decrepit, lobby.

“Evenin’,” a gruff voice rumbles.  “Can I help ye?”

“Yes, please,” Riza replies civilly, despite the man’s less-than-warm tone.  “We have a reservation under Grumman.”

The man grumbles under his breath as he flips through a stack of cream-colored cards by the landline.  After a minute, he turns back to Roy and Riza.

“The room you reserved is 205,” he grunts.  “S’got a bed and a bathroom.”

Roy watches Riza as she frowns slightly, “room 205?”

“Room 205, bed and bath,” the man, Johnson – Roy reads on his nametag – replies.

Roy’s own eyebrows knit together in confusion.  “I’m sorry?”

“Can ye hear?” Johnson growls, “ya get room, 205, and is’got a single twin bed.  Is there an issue, mister?”

“Respectfully, Mr. Johnson,” Riza replies, her face the perfect image of patience.  “Our reservation is for two joined rooms, each with a twin –”

“Well ‘m afraid yer straight outter luck,” Johnson says with a sickly-sweet smile.  “your reservation is for one room, one bed.  And before ye ask, I have no other vacancies.”

Roy finds that hard to believe given the decrepit status of the ‘hotel,’ but he wisely keeps his mouth shut.

Johnson gives Riza a lecherous once over, despite the fact that she remains completely covered in her countless layers, and smirks.  “But if that’s too much of an isser for ya, ye could stay with me instead of that loser,” he says, jabbing a finger in Roy’s direction.

Riza’s previously calm demeanor fades, and she fixes the disgusting man with a dangerous glare, her eyes filled with a sudden anger.

“Excuse me?” she says, with false politeness.  Roy’s own anger bubbles up alongside uneasy concern – Riza’s patience may appear to be never-ending to most, but he knows better.

Johnson grins, revealing a mouth full of uneven, yellowing teeth.  “Ditch Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Brooding over there and get with a real man.”

Riza’s right index finger twitches – and, deciding that it’d probably be best if she doesn’t punch the man in the face, no matter how appealing it may sound – Roy wraps an arm around Riza’s waist and pulls her gently towards him.  He sees a split-second of confusion flit across her features before she relaxes into his hold, even reaching down to wrap her right hand around his own where it rests on her waist.

Roy sends the man what seems to be an apologetic smile, but he knows that Riza can tell it’s grossly insincere.  “I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood our relationship, Mr. Johnson.”  The way Roy says the title is almost mocking, and Riza bumps him slightly, a silent reminder him to keep his cool.

Roy clears his throat before continuing with the same smile.  “My wife and I were simply confused by the change, that’s all. There’s no problem.  It will work out perfectly, the other couple that was supposed to come – our friend Jean and his wife Rebecca – they couldn’t make it.”

He sees a quick ghost of a smile cross Riza’s face as he says the words.  Tactic wise it makes sense, the more detailed the explanation, the more reasonable…

Roy fleeting thinks of how lucky it is that he and Riza both still have their gloves on (consequently hiding their tell-tale lack of rings) as Johnson frowns.

The man seems to accept Roy’s words.

But it doesn’t keep him from continuing to show his repulsive personality as he slides them the single room key across the counter.  Johnson looks to Riza, twitching his face in a way Roy assumes was meant to be a flirtatious wink.  “My offer still stands, little lady.”

Roy fights down a smile as he feels Riza squeeze his hand and tap her index finger quickly against his knuckles, an odd habit she’s had for years that remains a clear sign of her agitation.

Then she does something that he is in no way prepared for.  Quickly twisting her body to face him, she brings up her free hand to guide his face down towards hers, and promptly presses her lips against his.

Roy feels his eyes widen, then remembers that since they were “married,” kissing her shouldn’t startle him at all, and quickly responds with enthusiasm.

Even though her lips are chapped from the cold, as he’s sure his are, they are warm and surprisingly insistent.  Roy finally feels his body relax, only for Riza to pull back, face red and lips still parted.  She’s clearly startled, despite the fact that she had initiated the kiss, and looks slightly embarrassed, but he sees her swallow and place a smile on her face that could only be described as completely and utterly in love.

She snuggles herself back into his side, and turns back to Johnson, who looks thoroughly schooled.  “That won’t be necessary.  Goodnight.”

Riza grabs room key, tugs on Roy’s hand – subsequently breaking him out of his shocked state, as well as simultaneously prompting him to grab their bags – and drags him towards the set of rickety-looking stairs that lead to the floor above.

Neither of them speak until they are in front of 205, though Roy does fleetingly note that Riza has yet to let go of his hand.

She finally does when she slips the key into the lock and swings the door open. When she speaks, it’s in the form of a quiet, “after you.”

Roy nods and acquiesces, silently entering the room.  Riza comes in after him and shuts the door.  He lets the bags drop.

Neither of them say a word.

The room was indeed meant for one occupant, indicated by its very limited floor space as well as a cramped looking bathroom, and perhaps the most problematic thing of all, a single twin-sized bed.

“You take the bed,” he says.  Riza gives him a look, but before she can retaliate, he continues, “that’s an order, Captain.”

She glares at him, before simply saying, “no.”

“Hawkeye please don’t start with this,” he replies, running a tired hand through his hair.

“I will ‘start this,’ General, because where the hell would you be sleeping?” She gestures vaguely around them, patience clearly waning (most likely almost completely exhausted by the lovely Mr. Johnson below).  “There is not a single other area someone could sleep, not even the floor.  There’s barely enough room for us in here as is.”

“What about the bathtub?” Roy counters.  Riza shoots him a withering look.

“There is no bathtub,” she retorts.

“Fine, then we just share.”

“It’d be inappropriate, sir,” Riza replies.

“Inappropriate?” he exclaims, frustration ratcheting upwards.  “You just kissed me, Hawkeye!  Sleeping in the same bed isn’t going to be any more inappropriate than that!”

Belatedly, Roy realizes the phrasing of what he’s said, but it’s too late.

Hawkeye visibly deflates from the challenging demeanor she’d been in seconds before, and looks at the ground.  “My apologies, General.

“Hawkeye I –” He cuts himself off.  He what, exactly?  Really and thoroughly enjoyed a kiss that he shouldn’t have?  Is becoming more and more convinced that he’s in love with his subordinate?  He swallows, fighting down his plethora of disjointed thoughts from erupting into dangerous words.

There’s a silence again, and for once in all his time with Riza Hawkeye, it almost feels awkward.

“You use the shower first, sir,”” Riza says quietly.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Hawkeye,” Roy almost snaps back – awkwardness forgotten. “You have fewer layers on than I do, and besides, my body is always warmer.”

He ignores the way her face flushes at that, and passes it off as her finally adjusting to the chill of the room.

“You shower, and then I will, and that’s an order.”

Riza sends him a scathing glare before relenting and grabbing her duffle and disappearing into the tiny bathroom.

As soon as he hears the rush of water from within the closed bathroom door, Roy plops down onto the decidedly cramped bed with a low sigh.  This, he thinks, has got to be the weirdest mission ever.

He runs a hand through his hair as he tries in vain to forget the feeling of Riza’s chapped lips pressing firmly on his own, and groans as he fails and he only thinks instead of her endearing quirk when angry or worried.

He swears he can still feel a ghost tap-tap-tap on his knuckles from where her right index finger – her trigger finger – had been drumming against only minutes before.  He tries not to think about the way she had fit into his side so seamlessly, and the way a blush had briefly painted her face as he had called her his wife.

His wife…

Shaking his head to try to clear the increasingly dangerous thoughts, Roy stands, and walks over to rummage through his small pack for something to sleep in.

He hears the faucet squeak off, and bites back a groan as he realizes that his one other t-shirt had been soaked through by the incessant snowstorm that raged outside.  He grabs his thankfully dry pajama bottoms, and his last remaining pair of boxers, and sits back on the bed.

It’s only a minute before Riza opens the door and emerges in a comforting shroud of warm steam.  Her hair is down, dripping wet, and she doesn’t quite meet his eyes.  He’s about to ask her what’s wrong when he swallows hard, noticing suddenly – and very unpreparedly – that she is only wrapped in her towel.

All at once his entire body feels too hot, the air too stuffy, despite the drafty walls of the room.

“My pajamas seem to have been soaked through, sir…” she starts, trailing off uncertainly.

Roy regains his bearings and nods.  Get a hold of yourself, Roy, he chides silently.

“You can borrow one of my shirts, Lieutenant,” he says, feeling his face begin to burn. “I’m afraid I don’t have any dry pants, but a dress shirt should fit you…”

He pauses.

“Oh – actually, you can use my pajama pants if you’d like, I – uh, have a, uh…” he doesn’t continue and instead gestures awkwardly to the pair of boxers he’s still holding in his right hand.

He watches Riza’s gaze follow the movement, and her face promptly flush a deep scarlet.

Damn, he thinks silently.  And here I thought we were adults…

“I, uh… I appreciate the offer, sir,” she manages.  “Thank you.  However, I’m sure the shirt will do just fine.”

Roy simply nods, and turns to rummage once again through his bag for the one dress-shirt that remained untouched.  He doesn’t meet his subordinate’s eyes as he hands her the blue fabric, but that doesn’t stop him from biting the inside of his lip as their hands meet briefly in the exchange.  He doesn’t miss the way they both jump apart, as if there’s a static buzz – which, Roy really wouldn’t be surprised if there was a physical bolt of energy, because that’s sure what it felt like.

“I’ll just go shower, then,” he mutters, walking past Riza to enter the cramped bathroom.

He shuts the door without looking back.

Riza sighs as she buttons up Roy’s shirt.  The way the cold piece of clothing hangs on her – almost like a dress – is somewhat comical, but Riza isn’t laughing.  Inside, she cannot seem to shut off the constant monologue of, “this is inappropriate…wildly inappropriate...”

She tells herself that her shivering is because of the cold, not the fact that she is wearing nothing but his shirt and her underwear.  But she knows, despite herself, that she’s not telling the entire truth.

Standing, she shuts off the overhead light and flicks on the bedside lamp instead.  In two steps, she crosses to the door and checks the lock – sliding the manual lock as well for good measure.

Sure, the town had seemed alright, nothing shabbier than some of the suburbs outside of East City, but the last thing they needed was their belongings stolen… or, if she was being more honest, for someone who knew they weren’t married to come and see them.

Riza shudders at the thought.  Just the fact alone that they were sharing a room could get them court-martialed… But pair that with sharing a bed, while being less-than-decently dressed… Not to mention the kiss from earlier… Oh god, that kiss.

Riza sits at the edge of the bed and tries to calm herself as she feels her heart speed up.

What exactly has she done?

Roy braces his hands on the tiny counter, gazing at his own frown in the mirror.  Thankfully, the pajama pants are much fuzzier than he was anticipating – a welcome surprise, unlike many of the other situations today.

His chest is painfully bare – his sleep shirt had been soaked through – and he can’t quite bring himself to exit the warmth of the steam…or see Riza.

But it’s been ten minutes, and he can’t hide in here forever.

Roy runs the piece of cloth that is supposed to pass as a towel over his damp hair.  Inhaling, he places his hand on the door handle.

Get a grip, he berates himself.  You are being completely childish…

Reasonably so, some stupid, unnecessary voice retorts.  She did kiss you – of course you’re freaked out…

“I’m not freaked out,” Roy mutters.  He sighs heavily as he realizes that he just had an entire conversation with himself over may be one of the stupidest reasons ever. Damn…

He opens the door…

And abruptly stops.

The clouds responsible for the snow swirling outside allow little light to enter the room through the small window.  In fact, the only thing preventing the entire room from being in complete darkness was the lamp on the bedside table.

But that’s not what makes Roy pause.

A soft glow illuminates Riza’s still-drying hair, causing a golden hue to fall across the rest of her body as she sat on the edge of the bed. Her back is to him, and her hands run through her long hair, absentmindedly braiding it as she gazes out past the limp curtain that she had seemingly dragged aside.

Despite the darkness, there’s a dark purple hue to the sky, and the ledge outside has a small, but growing, loft of snow on top of it. It’s quite peaceful, really, and extremely at odds with his thumping heart.

The golden aura extends down to the rest of her body, emanating from the shirt she wears (his shirt, too big, but fitting nonetheless), and down towards her legs. He tries to distract himself before his thoughts linger back to the kiss…

So, being the idiot he is, Roy clears his throat.

Riza jumps slightly at the sound, and turns sharply to face him.  He can clearly see her posture relax, even if just slightly, as she registers it’s just him.

It appears that this is one of the very few instances in which he had successfully – even if accidentally – snuck up on Riza Hawkeye.

He tries not to think about the fact that somehow she had been so caught up in her own mind (about what, he could only speculate, but he tries to ignore the rising suspicion that it’s maybe some not too different from his own) that he was able to surprise her.  The infallible Riza Hawkeye, startled by him simply stepping into a room.  It’s something that he could definitely let go to his head, but he doesn’t.

Instead he asks, “are you warm enough?”

She hesitates briefly before nodding, “yes, sir.”

He frowns.  “Hawkeye please.  We may as well be outside right now.  These walls are doing nothing to keep out the chill.”

“Right.”  Riza straightens, pulls back the thin-looking blanket, and slips underneath it.  She faces the window, subsequently turning her back to the door, and him.

Almost a minute passes before she realizes he has yet to move.  She looks over her shoulder, quirking one eyebrow in a silent question.

He clears his throat, “right, sorry.”  He shifts his weight from left to right and nods awkwardly.

He knows, rationally, that this isn’t a big deal. He knows that he shouldn’t be overreacting, but he can’t help it.  For so long he has fought back against Grumman whenever the old man mentions his granddaughter and ‘hints’ about her “being the future Fuhrer’s wife.”  Whenever Hughes would call on the phone, or drop a line about Roy “getting himself a wife,” Roy’s frustration would bubble up and he’d snap at his friend.

But this is a big deal.  Not because he thinks anything more than strictly getting some rest – even though it happens to be in the same bed – is going to happen, but because he’s rejected his own feelings for so long.  Feelings that, with the events of the past hour or so, had come back, relentlessly bubbling up to the surface of his mind.

Even before Riza became his subordinate, his adjutant, his left-hand, he had tried to navigate their relationship carefully as kids. Her father hadn’t been the most incredible man ever, despite his genius, and Riza had lost her mother at a young age. When a young teenaged boy had entered into her house, bursting with energy, curiosity, and a somewhat unrelenting enthusiasm, she hadn’t welcomed him with open arms.

Yes, Riza was polite, and respectful, but they hadn’t just immediately become friends.  It had taken weeks, hell, even months, of understanding, respect, and patience.  Roy had worked hard to make it so Riza felt comfortable and open around him, comfortable and open with him.

It had all been worth it, no question.  The years spent with her as his best friend had been some of the greatest of his entire life.  They’d become closer than either of them could have ever expected, and at some point, the friendship had given way to a more dangerous creature – one that reared its nervous head, finally, just before Roy had had to leave for the Military Academy.  One with an unspoken understanding of something more.

A creature that, despite everything, was finally peeking out again tonight.  It seemed to Roy that that simple action of a kiss (sure, paired with everything they’d gone through before, their encounter with Lust, countless missions that could’ve, and sometimes did, go wrong, the Promised Day) had coaxed this creature back out, given it something more concrete than it had had (or been allowed to have) for what seemed like ages.

Roy had fought down these feelings – anything more than a professional respect – to the best of his abilities for years, simply due to the fact that he felt that he didn’t deserve her.  Of course, Roy knows that despite all of his attempts, those exact same feelings, the ones more dangerous than professional respect, were clear to all of the men on his team.

How many times had Havoc given him that oddly knowing smile? Or whenever Fuery had a grin a bit too wide on his face during dangerous missions as he watched Roy and Riza interact, even something as simple as discussing strategies? What about the countless times that Breda had just a faint ghost of a smile as Havoc whispered something to him while looking at Roy when the team was at Christmas’s bar, after Roy had finally convinced Riza to have just one dance with him?  What about Falman, ever-silent, stoic Falman, whose eyes seemed to sparkle with amusement whenever Riza gave Roy that look when he was complaining about paperwork in the office that would shut him up and get him working?

Even Fullmetal, who had teased and antagonized Roy with a passion as his subordinate, had shared a few quiet conversations with the rest of the team and Alphonse.  Was it not Edward himself who had (on multiple occasions, even) told Roy to just “live a little”?

Roy fight’s down a huff of amusement.  What would his team say now, seeing their two superior officers arguably “scantily-clad” in the same hotel room and sharing the same bed?  No doubt something completely inappropriate if Havoc were there, and some sort of comment close to, “it’s about damn time,” from Edward.

He blinks, clearing the rush of thoughts from his head, and just stares at Riza.  Riza Hawkeye, the woman who, in spite of everything, was still by his side.  Roy feels his world tip just a little bit at that realization.

“Sir?” Riza asks.  Roy wonders how many times she’s tried to get his attention in the past minute.

“Hmmm?” He hums back, not quite trusting himself to verbally respond in fear of the uncontrollable waterfall of confessions that may come out instead.

“Are you going to go to sleep, or…” She trails off.

“Yeah.”  He still doesn’t move.

After a few moments, he sees a quick flash of frustration on Riza’s face before she sighs and says, “of for the love of –”

She scoots herself closer to the edge of the bed and throws back the covers to the space that remains open, for him.

“Just lay down.”

Roy forgets about everything he had just been debating and deliberating about in his head, and crosses the one step it takes to reach the small bed.  Before he can lose his confidence, he sits on the edge, still not looking to Riza, lays down on the cold sheets and pulls them over himself.

All at once he’s far too aware of the sound of Riza’s uneven breaths right beside him, and he feels what seems to be like a white-hot burn at every single point of contact between her body and his own.

Simultaneously they both mutter a quiet, “sorry,” and make to move away from the other – and barely stop in time to prevent falling off abrupt edge leading to a cold, hard, wooden floor.

Roy lets out a resigned sigh and turns to roll back to the middle of the bed…only to be met with Riza’s face just inches away.  He tries to speak, but his mouth just won’t form the words.  His heartbeat thumps uncomfortably – no, it’s oddly comfortable – and Roy watches as a blush crawls up Riza’s face, starting from beneath the collar of the shirt (his shirt), and covering her cheeks.

Has that dusting of freckles along the bridge of her nose always been there?

Roy can feel a warm puff of air on his face as she exhales, and his own breathing catches.

Neither of them speak for a moment, but then Roy feels Riza shiver slightly, and he realizes just how cold the room really is.

So, once again, he opens his mouth and speaks without thinking.

“Are you cold?” His voice sounds too loud in the silence of the room.

“No,” Riza says quickly.  Their faces are still too close, but he wouldn’t need to be close to her to tell that she was lying.

“Captain, please,” he retorts.  “I can feel you shivering.”

Her blush deepens, and she almost looks ashamed.  “Fine,” she gives him a half-hearted glare, “yes, I am.”

“Okay,” he says.

Without giving it a second thought, he acts on his instinct and pulls her towards him.  One arm around her waist, and the other cradling the back of her head, he presses her gently to against his chest and moves his chin to rest on her hair.

She stiffens, briefly, and asks, “Colo – General… what are you doing?”

“Keeping you warm,” he says, feeling his face flush. “Just…trust me?”

There’s a pause before her muffled response of, “okay.”

He’s suddenly very aware of the fact that his chest is completely bare, and that where Riza’s face lies, is significantly warmer than the rest of his torso.  He also remembers, as he pulls her barely closer (but still well within the realm of propriety, or as much as there could be given the current situation), that the feeling of cool, smooth, fabric between his fingers is, in fact, still his dress shirt.

They lay like that for a few minutes, wide awake, cold, slightly stiff from nerves, and far too hyper-aware of the other to relax…before Roy hears Riza sigh quietly.

And then – much like she did earlier when she pulled him to her and kissed him – she completely and thoroughly surprises him…by tangling her legs with his.

Roy fights down a surprised squeak, and takes a moment to process what just happened.

He leans back his head just slightly to gaze down at her face, and isn’t surprised to see it blushing deeply (he knows his own looks the same).  Her eyes flicks up to meet his for a split second before she closes her eyes and returns to resting her cheek against his chest.

“I, um…” for some reason he feels the need to speak, but can only stammer out in his shock.

“For warmth, sir,” she supplies.  There’s a long pause before she says, “just, trust me,” and presses herself impossibly closer to him.

This time, Roy doesn’t fight back his squeak of surprise, and feels Riza’s lips curve into a smirk against his chest.

He swallows, trying to calm his racing heart that lies just under her ear.  No need to let her know just how much his nerves had taken over.

“You know, Captain,” he says after his heart has slowed.  “If you wanted warmth, you could’ve just asked.”

He feels her release a huff of laughter, one that shakes them ever so slightly, before she responds.  “You are impossible, General.”

“Only with you,” he responds.  He realizes the tone of his words only after he says them, but this time, he doesn’t really care.

Riza doesn’t seem to catch the accidental…unprofessional implication…or at least doesn’t go to address it.

“Besides,” she says, picking up her previous train of thought.  “Given how long it took you to even get into bed, I’m sure I would’ve frozen by the time you actually got around to ‘warming me up.’”

He goes to look at her again, and this time Riza does the same, pulling her face away to look up fully at his.  They find themselves merely centimeters apart.

Roy searches her humor-filled amber gaze as he looks for words he’s pushed away for years.

 Instead of some heartfelt confession, he says, “I’m sorry I put you on the spot by calling you my wife, earlier.”

There’s a flash of what almost looks like disappointment in her eyes before she smiles softly and shakes her head.

“No need to be sorry, sir,” she replies.  “You read the situation quite well…as always.”

He smiles at her compliment and hums.  They remain close, studying one another with caution before Riza continues.

“I’m sorry I…” She swallows, and turns her eyes away from his own.  “I’m sorry I kissed you, sir.  It was well out of bounds and I –”

“Don’t apologize, Hawkeye,” he interrupts, “it’s like you were saying, you read the situation quite well, and acted appropriately.”

Roy pauses.  “And besides…”  Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t be stupid… He ignores the rational voice that pipes up and continues, “it was…nice.”

Her eyes snap back to his with surprise.

“With all due respect, sir…that’s entering into rather dangerous territory,” she says quietly.

“I’m a dangerous man,” he replies.  He can see her fight down an eyeroll.  “But in all seriousness, Captain, who can hear us?”

Riza seems to accept his words and sighs.  “I…” She laughs softly.  “I guess you’re right.”

There’s a pause.

“And besides, I don’t disagree.”

Roy laughs and draws her to him, resting his chin, once again, atop her head.  He smiles as she relaxes and presses into him.  He can feel warmth spreading back into his body.

“Can you imagine if the team saw us right now?” He asks.

“Yes,” she replies.  “It’s not very fun for either of us.”

Roy snorts.

“Is Havoc making inappropriate comments?”

“Would you expect anything else?” She responds.

“Fair point,” he amends.

Sure, they know that in all seriousness, nothing has changed, but it’s no secret that they are both aware of their team’s thoughts and opinions.  Give the men a few drinks and they become very forthright with what they think exists between their superior officers…

Even Edward, embarrassed, awkward, Edward hadn’t been afraid to call it out to them both individually on various separate occasions.

Apparently, Roy had been blind far before the Promised Day.

Thinking back to their time in the hospital, when Roy had become accustomed to simply listening to his subordinate’s even breaths, he lets out a sigh. Following what had become routine then, he whispers, “goodnight, Hawkeye.”

He thinks she’s fallen asleep due to her lack of response before he hears a tired, “goodnight, Roy.”

A simple slipup – one, granted, he had scarcely heard since their childhood – but Roy feels some of his doubts from before fall away nevertheless.

Sure, things might remain unspoken, but that’s how they’ve always operated.

They didn’t need any extra words to communicate what they already knew.  And besides, Roy would never forget what Maes had once told him – actions speak louder…

So, keeping his best friend’s advice with him, Roy presses a soft kiss to Riza’s forehead as he drifts to sleep.

Maybe this mission wasn’t so bad after all.

#my fic #royai #fma #fma:b #I am complete and absolute trash #but this was super fun to write #Shay I'm such a nerd and I know it but I just wanted you to know that like #I seriously do admire you a lot #and look up to you #okay there that's all the dorky feelings I'll share #but I really really hope you like this #I'm not sure about the ending but #fluff? #anyways #this is partially to apologize for the song #and partially because I love tropes and particularly this one so #I hope you enjoy it #now to disappear for a bit to finish homework :') #I love you and happy birthday #o w o #this is the most I've ever written I think #at least for a one shot #5000 words of who even knows what #ily