Pax Writes 🕯 - Blog Posts

I once met a guy named Alex. A very common name. But he stuck around me. I still feel his presence in a boy I meet, sometimes even in the laughter of people with undertones. His name pops on my screen as I try to connect to the wifi. Sometimes, my unwillingness to new things brings his voice back to my head: "that's what you're here for."

Alex is a common name, and we all have one. But mine beats as I go along, as much as it's corny to say. He left a dent inside my bones, so much so that I turn every time I hear his name, because he might still be here.

ARE YOU AFRAID OF ME? I thought you would be willing to enter hell if it meant you got a taste of heaven in my mouth.

When I separated myself from my brother, I left my kindness for bitterness. And my gratitude was traded for ambition.

When I split myself in the womb, my brother inherited my sanity. And I, his sarcasm.

But at the same time. Heroes don’t deserve anything. (This is what keeps them up at night, the exhaustion hits their back, not baring to arch it any further. But it doesn’t reach their mind, and they stay up thinking if they made the right decision, if they are deserving of a person so normal, and far, far away from them–this is what keeps them up at night; loneliness, baring nostalgia of normalcy, where days are simple, pinching their skin of warm, real hands, and not the stinging pain of lifeless eyes staring back at them. This is what heroes think about at night, and there is a reason why they don’t last long).

— notes on MOORE-COVERED NARRATIVES (wip), about Yosuke.

When I split myself in the womb, my brother inherited my sanity. And I, his sarcasm.

And if I told you that you are the only one who stayed by your side, then what?

You are born in Autumn. Somewhere in September, you are alive, in those early years where the world is growing consciousness. And every discovery is new. There are shades of yellow and green blooming everyday: your favorite colors as you grow. You are born with ambition. Raised in soft houses, and gentle words. There are beliefs you deny. You leave people. You are so many things that cannot be described. Yet, you are present in guitar riffs, conch shells, pears, yellow pouring through the window of the train. You are like James: who had an ego the size of a lake but a heart to match it. Your eyes are dipped in minerals from the very core of the earth. You were touched with goodness from your dead father and sister. You are alive. You hurt people. You leave them and you hurt them. You are the reason the air is wide.

I understood Icarus the day I fell in love.

𝐈 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 ; tony stark

pairing ; father figure!Tony Stark x adopted!gn!Reader platonic / mentions ; bucky barnes, wanda maximoff, natasha romanova, harold "happy" hogan, pepper potts

outline —; Happy is ten minutes late. Tony is freaking out. And you are here, munching on a burger, lost somewhere in Midtown Manhattan. 

word count —; 1.8k

WARNINGS —; mention of HYDRA

tags / themes —; reader forgets their birthday, father-child complications, pepper being a mom, happy being... happy,

A/N —; finally beta-read!! this is just so... self-indulgent, it was my birthday a few days ago and i wanted to fill the pit in my stomach w/ some more surprises!!

Midtown Manhattan is a maze to you. 

Thankfully, you didn’t have to walk. You didn’t get to choose to walk. And Happy knew that. 

He was about… ten minutes late, you’ve stood in the same spot for ten minutes. Ten. Minutes. It’s fun and all. Until, you had the brilliant idea to walk around the block of your school, ultimately getting lost between the local shops and roads of the large, loud city. 

Gazing up, you could see the lovely “Stark” brandished unto the Avengers Tower. A medal, a hope to those who looked upon it. Your eyes landed on a small restaurant, two huge windows on either side, and a strained glass door in the middle. Its contrast to the colours of the buildings that’s surrounding it; yellows instead of blue, reds instead of grey. 

Plus, not a single soul. Your lips curled into a smile. 

Perfect, it looks like someone vomited rainbows. You concluded to yourself before crossing the road. Your fingers curled around the metal handle, pushing it open. With hands clinging on to the backpack hanging from your shoulder, you smiled at the woman behind the counter. Though, you felt the presence of a schoolboy with a bright blue flannel, sitting in the corner; burger, fries, and soda in front of him, his main focus was on his phone. 

Turning away, you let the soft smell of burgers fill your senses. 

Eventually, you found a spot beside the window, looking outside a bit before the woman from behind the counter came over to pick your order. “I’ll have whatever he’s having,” You purse your lips to silently point at the boy. 

“Burger, curly fries, and soda.” The woman repeated, she made eye contact with you, then smiled. “Anything else?” 

“Uh, no soda and ketchup please.” You grimaced, fidgeting with your hands underneath the table, averting your gaze outside. 

She tilted her head. “Just water?” 

You nodded and whispered as if she could hear you, “Yes.” 

The woman simply nodded and disappeared behind the counter. And you heaved a sigh, a very quiet sigh, as to not disrupt anyone’s peace in the quiet restaurant. The boy from across the room settled his phone down, looked at the burger, then at you. He waved shyly. And you mimicked the action, despite not entirely understanding his point of social cue. 

You chose to shift your gaze to the clear, glass window. Watching the people walk by and the cars speeding through the road. The more you count the amount of people passing by, the more you understood Stark, he cared for these people. The heavy exterior of his iron suit may not tell much, and even though he doesn’t physically have a heart. He does care. 

The smell of your order reached your nose, making you turn back and smile. You paid the kind woman and started to indulge in your fries first. 

Your mind drifted back to Happy. If he wasn’t ten minutes late, you would’ve been at home right now, perched against the headboard of your bed, resting. But the day would end, and you’d start all over again. Disrupting your schedule isn’t so bad. You get time for yourself, you don’t have to talk.

You smiled, as you bit your burger. And as if your thoughts aligned with reality, Happy Hogan walks in the store. 

Happy fuckin’ Hogan. 

With his suit and sunglasses and all. Out of breath, he looks at your retreating figure; attempting to swallow the burger as you smiled at him bitterly. “Hi,” You mouthfully said, settling your burger down, and signalling him to sit down. “Do you want to order anything?” You asked, mouth clear this time, as you swallowed the food. 

“I was looking everywhere for you,” Happy said through heavy breaths, slouching his shoulders. 

You nod along his words and licked your teeth with a sound. “You were late,” You took a bite of your burger again, swallowing. “So, I wandered off.” 

“You wandered off?” He repeated with a tone that clearly said he wasn’t happy. 

“I wandered off,” You repeated, your palms were free and expressed your tone. “Why were you late?” 

A twinkle behind Happy’s eyes, then, his face contorted into a blank expression. He cleared his throat, sitting straight in the chair. “Tony wanted me to do…” He fixed his tie clumsily. “Stuff.” As his words escaped his mouth, you bit into your burger comically, rolling your eyes. “Hey— He’s really worried, you need to eat the rest of,” Happy made circle gestures to your food. “This. Otherwise, he’ll—” 

“Call me,” You finished for him, wiping the ends of your mouth with a tissue. You looked around, averting your gaze from anywhere but Happy. It landed on the floor. “I know.” 

Happy tapped the table twice, making you pay close attention to him. “He cares,” He says, offering a smile through his stubble. Though, you couldn’t really tell. 

Nodding along his words, you licked your lips. “I know.” You confessed. 

The ride alone with Happy is the same; quiet. But you never minded. 

This time is different, something is different. Your palm fell against the texture of the seat, forehead against the car window. “This isn’t home,” You knocked the window, your eyes landed on the rear mirror. “Where are we going?” 

Happy’s eyes were ahead, avoiding your gaze. He’d be adamant in keeping eye-contact, for some reason, he wasn’t… looking at you. “Avengers Tower.” 

“What?” You blurted out, scratching the lobes of your ear, you said a bit softer; “Why?” You bit your bottom lip slightly, pulling yourself from the window, settling down onto your seat. 

He cleared his throat again. 

Weird. That wasn’t likely of him. “Tony’s there.” 

You furrow your brows, sighing as your head falls back. “Do I have to be there too?” You asked, though, quickly shaking your head. “Why do I have to be there?” 

Happy sighs, it wasn’t a condescending sigh, he wasn't tired of your questions, he just sighs—heaves out a long breath before saying. “You’ll see.”

“Ah, there you are!” Pepper exclaimed, her long hair bouncing as she swiftly hugged you. Giving your temple a kiss. “Come on, everyone’s waiting for you.” 

You were about to question everyone? Before you feel Happy slightly nudge you to follow Pepper, trailing closely behind you. You shake off the sensitivity of his touch before your school shoes slapped against the marbled floor. 

“How was school?” Pepper asked, pressing a button in the elevator. Her soft hands drifted back of your head, tugging a strand of it behind your ear. 

You smile, eyes ahead the number of the floor, brows raised. You rub your eyes with the back of your palms, yawning. “Normal.” 

Pepper Potts is the closest mother figure you’ve ever since HYDRA happened. Glimpses of your past always came peeking through the surface, ruining any chances of communicating like a normal person. But… Pepper, she somehow reminded you what it’s like to be human. She taught you to be more open, to not be so tense, to hold your head high. “Just normal?”

“Until Happy,” You jabbed a thumb at the man beside you. “Was late.” 

Pepper tilted her head at the man, amused. “Don’t be late next time.” She eyed him as the elevator doors opened. 

Turning around the corner, with Tony’s back turned, the Avengers erupted into cheers. Much to your surprise. You slowly backed out, slightly overwhelmed with the amount of people in the room. “Happy Birthday!” 

Your shoulders slumped back and you tried to bite down a smile. Oh. It was your birthday. “...Thank you?” You slowly inched in, seeing familiar faces. Laughter erupted again, they were drunk. Definitely. How long have they been waiting for you? Wanda came in first, hugging your shoulders. Then Natasha’s crushing hug and smile. Then… “Barnes,” You chuckled as he ruffled your hair. 

“Heat sink,” Bucky affectionately bit back, his hands curled around a clumsy, boxed present. He tossed it to you. “Don’t tell Tony.” He whispered, before patting your shoulder, and heading to the kitchen, probably to get another drink. 

Tony smiled, showing his teeth. “Happy Birthday, kid.” 

There was a silence that hung right above your heads; other than the Avengers constant laughter; there’s the awkwardness between the two of you. No matter how long the years passed by—it’s always been there, you were unsure as to how you could conquer it. 

Maybe, you could start now. Pepper and Happy passed by you, feeling that they were suddenly invading, they headed close to the other Avengers. You cleared your throat, stepping forward. “Thanks, Tony.” You said a bit timidly, causing his brows to raise slightly. 

Tony examined you up and down. You were still in your uniform, now all baggy and messy. “How was school?” He inquired, signalling his head to follow him in the kitchen. 

“Normal, until Happy showed up late.” You mimicked his action, looking back at Happy and Pepper with a smile. “Went to a restaurant. Ate something.” 

Tony nodded his head along with your vague storytelling. “You got lost?” He raised a brow. 

You grinned cheekily, leaning against the countertable with your elbow. You swiped your palm against the base of your neck, grunting a little before replying. “A bit.” 

“Sure, a bit.” Tony said, pouring you a glass of apple juice. He handed it to you, “Happy Birthday again.” 

A pause. He continued. “I know we don’t talk a lot, kid. But I want you to know that—” 

You sipped your apple juice loudly, smacking your lips together. “Care about me,” You grimaced, not to him, you didn’t have the courage to look anyone in the eyes right now. “I know.” 

Tony crossed his arms and leaned against the countertable, just beside you. Though, far enough for your liking. “No,” His lips formed into a line, you dipped your head lower, looking at him between your eyelashes. He made that stubble face that Happy would, you couldn’t distinguish if it was smiling and frowning. “I don’t… express it enough.” 

Another pause. It wasn’t the same silence that hanged minutes ago. 

It was comforting. You patiently waited. 

Tony looked at you, with a smile this time. “I care about you, kid.” He says this like an oath. Your head was still dipped down, gaze fixed on the floor. Your vision begins to water, some-fucking-how. “You’ve been through a lot,” He continues, watching as you set the glass down. “And you’ve been so strong.” He smiles when you look at him. “I’m proud of y—” 

His words were cut off with you hugging him. Tony didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around your retreating figure, somehow, he understood your quiet sobs. The way your fingers tremble behind his back, the way your legs buckled, and the way your quiet sniffles were hidden by the collar of his shirt. He continued anyway, Tony’s nose was buried into your hair as he said. “I’m proud of you.” 

♡ PLEASE LIKE & REBLOG TO SUPPORT ME.

being a performer in a concert hall and bumping into anakin skywalker. and you don't recognize him, perfect. you wouldn't need to anyway, it was another regular primeday for you and many of your fellow performers, why would you need to appeal to very, very attractive blonde in the throng?

then that's when you realize you bumped into the hero with no fear. in all his glory; dark jedi robes, and the flash of a lightsaber secured against his hip.

it takes a lot of courage for you not to fumble on your feet because something tells you, this isn't the last time you'll be seeing him.

and he—anakin,

anakin looks at you in a way that jedi council would, rest assured, disapprove. and it scares him. it wasn't the way you carried yourself throughout the performance, the way you apologized with a firm voice by bumping into him, it was your smile, and your voice. the wave of normalcy you omitted, one that feels so pleasant. so, incredibly like home—except the sand bit, everything in naboo seems to turn his beliefs around—that he couldn't help but ask obi-wan if these missions would happen more often.

obi-wan's expressions were unreadable, much to anakin's dismay.

izuku seems like a man who breaks down whenever you tell him you love him.

I can sleep in a bed full of clothes, but I can't sleep in a house full of hatred. If someone loves you, they will not go the length to make you feel unloved, unworthy, uncared, unforgiving I can't sleep in the soft mattress, for it retches in the smell of anger: a Father's anger: a Mother's ravage: I can sleep in a bed with no mattress, just wood.

Even trees hold more peace when they're dead, than you have held in the time of your wake.

Have you heard of the boy who held kindness close even though anger is an option?

I have.

His eyes contained the forests that hold our life; green and nature-blessed. And, his hair remains grown, messily arranged — it contains memories, not so kind, but hopeful to the eye. The base of his cheeks are four-leaved clovers: luck, pure luck has brought him here.

I have known of him.

I have known of him. His sense of a squirrel. As they plant trees with their acorns in the soil. As he does good with anger burning in the air. As he cries, with his head upon my shoulder. Cheeks dampening the side of my shirt.

I have known.

I have known his kind smile (not forced, never forced) and I see his lips fumble, fumbling, upon the overwhelming comfort.

Stupid, stupid man. The world does not deserve his kindness, they do not deserve him, and his sense of a squirrel, and his hopeful eyes to a trivial, humane need such as comfort.

Whatever labour they have done, they brought upon this man. Of good and gold. Of nature and luck. Of peace, never-ending peace.

Of kindness over anger.

A Thief's Only Enemy

(BASED ON OPLA!Nami) cross-posted on ao3 !!

Nami, the trees whisper. Its tangerine drops against the soil like a ripple in the sea. She remembers the wind passing by the orchard, the dots of tangerines in the horizon, the smell of citrus making every air she breathed worthed and sour. 

Her tongue catches the taste. Her words become citrus. 

Once and now, the trees would whisper her name. Nami, Nami, Nami— our daughter, look at the curiosity—She doesn’t know what that means. Quite frankly, Nami doesn’t recall a memory that whispered her name the way the tangerine trees would. She couldn’t remember what it had meant, what it had sounded like. She couldn’t remember the significance of names. Of course, the significance of names other than Mom, and Nojiko. 

Nojiko, who is her sister, (who isn’t her sister), whose skin reaches more than a tree’s roots, underneath the soil, nurturing and caring. Who had held her, who squeezed her tighter, closer, protectively when Belle-Mere had found them. 

Then, there was her mother, oh, sweet mother. Who had said “I just knew” undoubtedly, who had been the first one to answer her questions truthfully, who had left her knowing that she and Nojiko were loved. 

(This is what life first stole: her name. It is buried until Nojiko and Belle-Mere latches themselves in her heart. They make a home there. They pump her blood and provide for her. This is what life first stole: when the home is in flames and the trees rots—when her mother fell with her skull-cracked, blood spilling between the gaps of wood, the soil carries her sacrifice. The village carries her body, they dig beside a wide tree of tangerines, they place her there. She is buried there. With a piece of Nami and Nojiko ever-beating love for each other.)

You are my daughters, I will not deny that. Nami remembers, she remembers many things. She remembers Arlong’s stupid gun, his stupid smile. She remembers Nojiko’s spiteful look when she left with Arlong. She remembers the way her sister’s blue hair reflected the emotions she felt. 

(This is what Nami stole from herself: the tranquillity and war of sisterhood. She thought of the consequences because her mother had told them to be as strong as boys, and that, if they survived, good times will come. Nami knew—you see, she was a thief, then and now, thievery is mixed up with trickery—that her village would not survive Arlong’s grasp. He is a fishmen, no human in their village could deny that they were scarred with his ever-growing laughter the moment he claimed them. This is what Nami stole from herself, and what she would take back: sisterhood.)

Nojiko’s hair never went past its original length, she still looks like her sister: Nami’s sister. 

Arlong’s tattoo says otherwise. She would breathe in, her hands were bruised from labour. She used to love the lines that curve to make the islands, cartography offered newness other than the mundane shackles around her once soil-covered ankles. Nesh tears pickled her citrus-covered face, her hair would be dried. She would hug her chest, carry the weight of the knowledge she possessed. 

(This is what life stole from her: freedom. The ability to breathe the citrus air, or the raw wind against her skin. Of course, Nami would grow out those shackles, she knew, her mother had told her and Nojiko that their bodies were not meant to stay in this shape. She had known that she would not stay in this vessel of a tiny girl. Yet, she could not bring herself to hope. To hope that she would live one. This is what life stole from her: freedom. The freedom to make friends. The freedom to have ridiculous hope). 

Nami grew. She had to. For Coco Village. For Nojiko. For her mother. She had to. She learned how to keep her hair the same shape, she learned to observe the sky while slipping berries out of a stranger’s pockets. She learned the meaning of her name from a stolen book, how reflecting her eyes could be in the ocean. 

(This is what Nami stole from herself: a life surrounded with fishmen that would go after her, wherever she went. And she had all but herself to blame, the moment her foot made contact with the wooden floor, the moment she had blurted out that she wanted to join. This is what Nami stole from herself, and what she thinks she would never get back: a life she calls her own.) 

(my thoughts are always on the tags!!) ♡ PLEASE LIKE AND REBLOG TO SUPPORT ME.

Then Chessa spoke, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Her rosy cheeks grew even rosier as she grinned.

Nyla's fingers curled around her paint brush, dipping her chin down. She looks at Chessa from the rim of her glasses. “No, I’ll paint you instead, it’ll last for centuries.” She spoke softly, grinning back.

Reblog with a random sentence from your wip.

𝐈 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 ; tony stark

pairing ; father figure!Tony Stark x adopted!gn!Reader platonic / mentions ; bucky barnes, wanda maximoff, natasha romanova, harold "happy" hogan, pepper potts

outline —; Happy is ten minutes late. Tony is freaking out. And you are here, munching on a burger, lost somewhere in Midtown Manhattan. 

word count —; 1.8k

WARNINGS —; mention of HYDRA

tags / themes —; reader forgets their birthday, father-child complications, pepper being a mom, happy being... happy,

A/N —; finally beta-read!! this is just so... self-indulgent, it was my birthday a few days ago and i wanted to fill the pit in my stomach w/ some more surprises!!

Midtown Manhattan is a maze to you. 

Thankfully, you didn’t have to walk. You didn’t get to choose to walk. And Happy knew that. 

He was about… ten minutes late, you’ve stood in the same spot for ten minutes. Ten. Minutes. It’s fun and all. Until, you had the brilliant idea to walk around the block of your school, ultimately getting lost between the local shops and roads of the large, loud city. 

Gazing up, you could see the lovely “Stark” brandished unto the Avengers Tower. A medal, a hope to those who looked upon it. Your eyes landed on a small restaurant, two huge windows on either side, and a strained glass door in the middle. Its contrast to the colours of the buildings that’s surrounding it; yellows instead of blue, reds instead of grey. 

Plus, not a single soul. Your lips curled into a smile. 

Perfect, it looks like someone vomited rainbows. You concluded to yourself before crossing the road. Your fingers curled around the metal handle, pushing it open. With hands clinging on to the backpack hanging from your shoulder, you smiled at the woman behind the counter. Though, you felt the presence of a schoolboy with a bright blue flannel, sitting in the corner; burger, fries, and soda in front of him, his main focus was on his phone. 

Turning away, you let the soft smell of burgers fill your senses. 

Eventually, you found a spot beside the window, looking outside a bit before the woman from behind the counter came over to pick your order. “I’ll have whatever he’s having,” You purse your lips to silently point at the boy. 

“Burger, curly fries, and soda.” The woman repeated, she made eye contact with you, then smiled. “Anything else?” 

“Uh, no soda and ketchup please.” You grimaced, fidgeting with your hands underneath the table, averting your gaze outside. 

She tilted her head. “Just water?” 

You nodded and whispered as if she could hear you, “Yes.” 

The woman simply nodded and disappeared behind the counter. And you heaved a sigh, a very quiet sigh, as to not disrupt anyone’s peace in the quiet restaurant. The boy from across the room settled his phone down, looked at the burger, then at you. He waved shyly. And you mimicked the action, despite not entirely understanding his point of social cue. 

You chose to shift your gaze to the clear, glass window. Watching the people walk by and the cars speeding through the road. The more you count the amount of people passing by, the more you understood Stark, he cared for these people. The heavy exterior of his iron suit may not tell much, and even though he doesn’t physically have a heart. He does care. 

The smell of your order reached your nose, making you turn back and smile. You paid the kind woman and started to indulge in your fries first. 

Your mind drifted back to Happy. If he wasn’t ten minutes late, you would’ve been at home right now, perched against the headboard of your bed, resting. But the day would end, and you’d start all over again. Disrupting your schedule isn’t so bad. You get time for yourself, you don’t have to talk.

You smiled, as you bit your burger. And as if your thoughts aligned with reality, Happy Hogan walks in the store. 

Happy fuckin’ Hogan. 

With his suit and sunglasses and all. Out of breath, he looks at your retreating figure; attempting to swallow the burger as you smiled at him bitterly. “Hi,” You mouthfully said, settling your burger down, and signalling him to sit down. “Do you want to order anything?” You asked, mouth clear this time, as you swallowed the food. 

“I was looking everywhere for you,” Happy said through heavy breaths, slouching his shoulders. 

You nod along his words and licked your teeth with a sound. “You were late,” You took a bite of your burger again, swallowing. “So, I wandered off.” 

“You wandered off?” He repeated with a tone that clearly said he wasn’t happy. 

“I wandered off,” You repeated, your palms were free and expressed your tone. “Why were you late?” 

A twinkle behind Happy’s eyes, then, his face contorted into a blank expression. He cleared his throat, sitting straight in the chair. “Tony wanted me to do…” He fixed his tie clumsily. “Stuff.” As his words escaped his mouth, you bit into your burger comically, rolling your eyes. “Hey— He’s really worried, you need to eat the rest of,” Happy made circle gestures to your food. “This. Otherwise, he’ll—” 

“Call me,” You finished for him, wiping the ends of your mouth with a tissue. You looked around, averting your gaze from anywhere but Happy. It landed on the floor. “I know.” 

Happy tapped the table twice, making you pay close attention to him. “He cares,” He says, offering a smile through his stubble. Though, you couldn’t really tell. 

Nodding along his words, you licked your lips. “I know.” You confessed. 

The ride alone with Happy is the same; quiet. But you never minded. 

This time is different, something is different. Your palm fell against the texture of the seat, forehead against the car window. “This isn’t home,” You knocked the window, your eyes landed on the rear mirror. “Where are we going?” 

Happy’s eyes were ahead, avoiding your gaze. He’d be adamant in keeping eye-contact, for some reason, he wasn’t… looking at you. “Avengers Tower.” 

“What?” You blurted out, scratching the lobes of your ear, you said a bit softer; “Why?” You bit your bottom lip slightly, pulling yourself from the window, settling down onto your seat. 

He cleared his throat again. 

Weird. That wasn’t likely of him. “Tony’s there.” 

You furrow your brows, sighing as your head falls back. “Do I have to be there too?” You asked, though, quickly shaking your head. “Why do I have to be there?” 

Happy sighs, it wasn’t a condescending sigh, he wasn't tired of your questions, he just sighs—heaves out a long breath before saying. “You’ll see.”

“Ah, there you are!” Pepper exclaimed, her long hair bouncing as she swiftly hugged you. Giving your temple a kiss. “Come on, everyone’s waiting for you.” 

You were about to question everyone? Before you feel Happy slightly nudge you to follow Pepper, trailing closely behind you. You shake off the sensitivity of his touch before your school shoes slapped against the marbled floor. 

“How was school?” Pepper asked, pressing a button in the elevator. Her soft hands drifted back of your head, tugging a strand of it behind your ear. 

You smile, eyes ahead the number of the floor, brows raised. You rub your eyes with the back of your palms, yawning. “Normal.” 

“Until Happy,” You jabbed a thumb at the man beside you. “Was late.” 

Pepper Potts is the closest mother figure you’ve ever since HYDRA happened. Glimpses of your past always came peeking through the surface, ruining any chances of communicating like a normal person. But… Pepper, she somehow reminded you what it’s like to be human. She taught you to be more open, to not be so tense, to hold your head high. “Just normal?”

Pepper tilted her head at the man, amused. “Don’t be late next time.” She eyed him as the elevator doors opened. 

Turning around the corner, with Tony’s back turned, the Avengers erupted into cheers. Much to your surprise. You slowly backed out, slightly overwhelmed with the amount of people in the room. “Happy Birthday!” 

Your shoulders slumped back and you tried to bite down a smile. Oh. It was your birthday. “...Thank you?” You slowly inched in, seeing familiar faces. Laughter erupted again, they were drunk. Definitely. How long have they been waiting for you? Wanda came in first, hugging your shoulders. Then Natasha’s crushing hug and smile. Then… “Barnes,” You chuckled as he ruffled your hair. 

“Heat sink,” Bucky affectionately bit back, his hands curled around a clumsy, boxed present. He tossed it to you. “Don’t tell Tony.” He whispered, before patting your shoulder, and heading to the kitchen, probably to get another drink. 

Tony smiled, showing his teeth. “Happy Birthday, kid.” 

There was a silence that hung right above your heads; other than the Avengers constant laughter; there’s the awkwardness between the two of you. No matter how long the years passed by—it’s always been there, you were unsure as to how you could conquer it. 

Maybe, you could start now. Pepper and Happy passed by you, feeling that they were suddenly invading, they headed close to the other Avengers. You cleared your throat, stepping forward. “Thanks, Tony.” You said a bit timidly, causing his brows to raise slightly. 

Tony examined you up and down. You were still in your uniform, now all baggy and messy. “How was school?” He inquired, signalling his head to follow him in the kitchen. 

“Normal, until Happy showed up late.” You mimicked his action, looking back at Happy and Pepper with a smile. “Went to a restaurant. Ate something.” 

Tony nodded his head along with your vague storytelling. “You got lost?” He raised a brow. 

You grinned cheekily, leaning against the countertable with your elbow. You swiped your palm against the base of your neck, grunting a little before replying. “A bit.” 

“Sure, a bit.” Tony said, pouring you a glass of apple juice. He handed it to you, “Happy Birthday again.” 

A pause. He continued. “I know we don’t talk a lot, kid. But I want you to know that—” 

You sipped your apple juice loudly, smacking your lips together. “Care about me,” You grimaced, not to him, you didn’t have the courage to look anyone in the eyes right now. “I know.” 

Tony crossed his arms and leaned against the countertable, just beside you. Though, far enough for your liking. “No,” His lips formed into a line, you dipped your head lower, looking at him between your eyelashes. He made that stubble face that Happy would, you couldn’t distinguish if it was smiling and frowning. “I don’t… express it enough.” 

Another pause. It wasn’t the same silence that hanged minutes ago. 

It was comforting. You patiently waited. 

Tony looked at you, with a smile this time. “I care about you, kid.” He says this like an oath. Your head was still dipped down, gaze fixed on the floor. Your vision begins to water, some-fucking-how. “You’ve been through a lot,” He continues, watching as you set the glass down. “And you’ve been so strong.” He smiles when you look at him. “I’m proud of y—” 

His words were cut off with you hugging him. Tony didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around your retreating figure, somehow, he understood your quiet sobs. The way your fingers tremble behind his back, the way your legs buckled, and the way your quiet sniffles were hidden by the collar of his shirt. He continued anyway, Tony’s nose was buried into your hair as he said. “I’m proud of you.” 

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𝐀 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 ;; din djarin

Pairing; Din Djarin x gn!Reader

outline —; Peaceful times with Din Djarin were rare. You relish it.

word count —; 1.1k

WARNINGS —; none.

tags / themes —; reader and din are married, grogu (sweetly) interrupting a moment.

A/N —; *comes back with a massive stars wars obsession* hey, i write for them now. it's been a stressful couple months and i wanted to get something out for my birthday. this isn't beta-read, i just wanted to write. please be kind, thanks.

This galaxy raised warriors, heroes, and peace-keepers. Those who fought in the name of their planet, for the safety of the future, and the love they carry for their family. Those who were victims of war survived… or trained to survive, fight, and endure. 

This galaxy isn’t raised for writers, painters, and performers. Those who coped in whomever’s name, for the sanity of themselves, and possibly for the love they carried for their crafts. Of course, artists don’t only do it for themselves. They create in order to escape; and luckily enough, they don’t press themselves into the cruel hands of the galaxy. Because it isn’t built for them. 

For you, the galaxy seemed to test the waters. Warriors and Artists? Maybe those two weren’t so different, after all. Oh, how history would have written it; when the stars collide, an artist with no place in this galaxy meets a warrior who can’t find a home. Those three long years, what an adventure it has been. 

Din Djarin is a victim of war. Like yourself. There truly is a place for people like you. But whilst Din grew up with the Way, you grew up tracing the sky, seeing shapes in every landscape, and memorising the curve of someone’s face. Often asking yourself questions like; Where does the shadow fall? In which direction does the light come from? If you were simplified, which shapes best describe you? 

Din Djarin is a Mandalorian. Not like yourself. A Mandalorian. A warrior. He trained and connived his way till he stood in this solid home. He grew up hidden, so he stayed that way for a while in his life; often a mystery to the Guild. 

“Din Djarin, do not move.” You warned, tilting your head as the heat of Nevarro’s sun hit your face. The chair, in which you sat, rocked back slightly at your movements. With arms outstretched, thumb against the pencil, you held it feebly upwards, trying to calculate the proportions of the Mandalorian’s body. 

If you could see his face out in the open right now, you would’ve caught on with the fact that your husband — your riduur — was smirking. And decided to tilt his head in the opposite direction for the fun of it. You clicked your tongue in annoyance but a smile adorned your face. “I’ve been in this position for fifteen minutes, ner runi.” Din sighed softly, tapping his ungloved fingers against his forearm. 

“Fifteen minutes more.” You looked at him over the rim of your notebook, sketching away. A light fire went on above your head, face lighting up as the same smile adorned your features. “I’ll entertain you, what’s our son doing?” You asked, raising your notebook down to tilt your head at him again. 

Din chuckled at your demeanour or was it your question? You couldn’t tell, though he answered anyway. “Eating frogs.” 

“Again?” You turned to look at the side to see your son doing so; eating frogs. Entirely, it was your fault for looking away. At the time your eyes left your riduur, Din got up, breaking your focus. “Din!” You laughed as you looked back at him.

Your Mandalorian called your name with the same energy. His next words were spoken in a gentle manner, enough to capture your attention. “I’m tired,” He merely said, extending his hand to you. “Let’s be tired together.” 

You let a relieved breath. Has it always been there? You weren’t sure, though, at this moment, you let it go. You released it when settling your supplies down the chair in which you sat. You released it when you found yourself melting into Din’s hands. 

With the armour off, the world is all but noisy. The only sound prominent are frogs croaking and the gentle breeze of Nevarro’s ambience. He pulled you into his chest and laid his back against the frame of the metal door. 

Music. You could hear music, with your cheeks pressed against the warmth of his chest, and with his arms wrapped around you (and yours around Din’s waist). The world stopped, for a few moments it stopped, and you breathed. Inhale and exhale. The exhaustion left your body through that breath, and you could feel that Din breathed too. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. You could hear his gentle heart, if you listen close enough, you could practically hear his soul. What would it sound like? 

Move. Your body screamed to move, but a part of you wanted to stay like this forever. Though, the feeling caved into you, forcing your head to look at your husband’s visor. Your chin rested on his chest as you asked warily. “Can I kiss you?” 

Modulate. The Mandolorian’s helmet modulated his voice, if he answered in a chuckle, the other might receive it the wrong way. He didn’t want to move. The embrace held a significant peace, one that physically pained him when he moved a muscle. But Din didn’t speak with his brain at the moment, so he removed his helmet, and the beskar fell onto the floor beside them. 

They were in the middle of nowhere, what would you say? — All is well. — That sentence proved its point when Din held your cheeks beneath his hands, and his lips were on yours. He could feel you kiss back, he could feel your cheeks against his, he could feel the lazy smile that tugged your lips. Truly, Din wanted to open his eyes, to get a better look of you without his visor, yet somehow, he couldn’t. 

Din is tired. So tired. His shoulder gave in and melted between your arms; he didn’t know how it got there; your elbows above his shoulder, as your fingers explored his hair. But Din didn’t care, he just melted into your kiss, laughing, nearly crying over the unexpected bliss and peacefulness the day had to offer. 

His desires of staying like this with you continued to grow within each second— 

“Patu!” And then, the moment was sweetly broken. 

Your lips disconnected with a sound, pulling away the moment the sound was in ear-shot. Din’s eyes landed first on the green baby, doe eyed, ears high, and head tilted innocently. 

You saw him slurp a frog. “Grogu,” A waning smile reached your son’s lips when his name was mentioned, without warning, he jumped into your arms. Thankfully, you caught him. “That’s not nice of you. What if the frogs had parents?” You teased. 

Din chuckled beside you, kissing your temple lightly, before opening the door. “Let’s head inside.” He said while bending to get his fallen helmet. The gesture, so simple, caught you off guard. A soft, green hand held the base of your cheek and Grogu joyfully yelled with ‘‘Iek!’

Stepping inside, you looked around, almost nostalgically. This is your home. Reminded by Grogu and Din’s presence, a smile painted your lips. They are your home. “I’ll kiss you once more when he’s asleep.” He muttered before taking Grogu from your grip. 

Maybe there is a place for artists in this galaxy.

TRANSLATION(S);

riduur; spouse, husband, wife ner runi; my soul (*ner; my) (*runi; soul)

♡ PLEASE LIKE AND REBLOG TO SUPPORT ME.

𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀 / 𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐌𝐀 ;; wednesday addams

Pairing ;; Wednesday Addams x gn!winged!Reader

outline —; Confessing to Wednesday Addams is... something else.

word count —: 2.3k

WARNINGS —: cursing, SUGGESTIVE, LIKE VERY.

themes / tags —: reader is gender-neutral. divina is non-binary.

A/N: reblogs and comments are appreciated. there are some other fics i wanted to write for wednesday. have some gender-neutral divina and reader as dorm mates! and some wings too, may i add. enjoy :)

There is no number or word that can describe love. The only way to describe it is to feel it. To be in it. Similarly, love isn’t a never ending circle, going around and saying the same thing. For centuries, science has explained it too – the love for friends, the love for lovers, the love for parents, the love for certain objects. 

In history, the Greeks have words for love. Sitting in history lessons in one of the many rooms in Nevermore, your wings folded, your eyes staring directly at the board, as the teacher spoke. A school mate, similar to you with wings of down feathers, smiled in your direction, staring intently. 

Some didn’t seem to care about the knowledge they’re learning, some were confused (one of them being you, though, you were just ecstatic that all these people were learning that love isn’t just love). Some were guilty – you knew because you felt them, you felt that they never ‘love’ the way it is expected. 

“Ludus is the playful form of love. This may describe your type of romance; teasing, flirting, and teenage love.” The teacher explained, dragging her tone through the room, the class is quiet, accepting the new form of knowledge into their minds. 

The first period class really had you smiling. A swelled understandment filled your stomach as if it was thirsty for affection and attention. Who knew the Greeks could understand you? In ways more than one. Besides its occasional tales of myths and legends (that you personally indulge in, though too embarrassed to say anything about it), you were surprised that this knowledge is never passed down unto society. 

Only ‘friendship’ and ‘love’ were understood. If the normies altogether had a voice they would probably say; What else is there to it? 

The thought made you snicker. Hours passed; preoccupied students were busy shuffling the hallways, getting ready for the falling night. You watched through the infirmary window as the courtyard emptied out. “You bird!” The nurse called, looking at you with wide eyes. This did not surprise you but it did make you jump in your chair, your feathers in alert mode as you felt ants seeping through your skin. “I told you, this girl, here,” She pointed to Yoko, who snickered in response, hiding her laughter. “She is okay! No need to crowd this place! Look at your wings- Giant!” She reached her hand out, pinching a feather, making you hiss in staggerment. 

“Okay! Okay! I’m just worried about my friend.” You said, cowering out of the door, waving Yoko a goodbye before she could touch the ends of your feathers too. You huffed, wings fluttering in a shiver. The thumping of your own boots thundered in your ears, silencing any form of thoughts that raced through your mind. Silencing the outside world for a while, walking to your dorm subconsciously. 

For a moment, you ceased in a quiet hallway, contemplating whether to comfort Enid in her time of distress. Pending for a second that your wings enclosed in a relaxed position, folding itself. I don’t need to think about this situation, you mentally facepalmed. 

You headed to your dorm, waving a slight hello to Divina. They didn’t let you pass the window though, blocking your view of the outside world before you could fly out. Worry flooded their eyes as they frantically blurted out a word. “The nurse wouldn’t let me-”

You intercepted, putting a hand on their shoulder. “Let you see her? Me too but I’ve seen, Tanaka is fine, it’s just an allergic reaction.” You calmly stated, your wings subconsciously wrapping around them into a hug. They wrapped their arms around your shoulders too, unable to decide whether to hold your waist or back. “She’ll be out before you know it.” You pulled away, smiling. 

Divina nodded, stepping out of the window. “Tell me how your confession goes.” They teased, opening their closet and picking out a jacket. They headed to the bathroom. 

You opened the window, searching for Ophelia Hall in the many buildings until your eyes landed on the half-rainbow cobwebbed window. “Not yours to know,” You yelled in a responsive tone, hands on the railing, keeping your body balanced, poking your head out of the cold air. Making sure that no one is watching, you search left to right as if you were checking a road before crossing. “Nightshades again?” You asked, pushing your head in, grabbing a jacket of your own. 

Divina fixed their hair, responding with a nod. “At least look decent, who are you meeting? Enid or Addams?” They blindly asked. 

Disbelief left your mouth as a laugh. You loudly shut your closet, running up to the window, shutting it down as if anyone could hear from your own dorm. “Do you think Wednesday would care what I wear?” You emphasized clearly on her name, grabbing a hair brush. You rubbed the back of your neck before remembering the reason for your arrival at their dorm. “And anyway, I wanted to see Enid, she’s upset because of…” Your voice trailed, realizing that Divina is the person you’re talking to. You didn’t want to upset her any further, though luckily, she was busy adjusting her necklace to even listen to you. 

Divina smiled playfully. “Well, people say she’s allergic to color. But honestly, she’s pulling off the black and white outfits.” They replied, shrugging. The sneakers they wore dragged a rushed sound. Though it stopped when they turned on their heel to face you again. “Yet, here you are, putting no effort into your fits.” 

You huffed, rolling your eyes, as you leaned into the mirror. “I’m pretty decent, if you ask me. Or Wednesday.” You happily affirmed. 

Divina shrugged in defeat, waving you off. “Just make sure to be there, Bianca hates you.” 

Shaking your head, you opened the window again, jumping up the railing, spreading your wings. “Tell her the feeling is mutual.” With that, you leaped out, snickering at the response ‘that’s jackshit, Xavier hates you too’, spreading your wings to bring yourself up to the window once more, satisfied that Divina took in the words you most definitely meant. You carefully pulled down the window, leaving a big enough gap for your hands to fit in. 

You flew higher, the cold air reaching your whole body. Jacket or not, the cold bothered you. Though, post-autumn has finally worn out. The start of cold winds were scaring you for the snow. And god, were you thankful that you didn’t have to shovel it all? Yes, of course, you were. 

Your feet landed on the cold ground, as wind slightly pushed you back. You flap your wings in the process, creating a whirlwind that nearly knocked out the musical note stand. Thankfully, you weren’t too far to not catch it and disrupt a loud bang. Cold seeped through your footwarmers, each step you took warmed up your body eventually. Since, you couldn’t fit through the window (credits to the wings you carried), instead, you knocked, poking your head in. 

“Enid!” You called on excitedly, only to find her bed empty, neatly arranged. Your head turned to her roommate’s bed. Next to it is a dissatisfied Wednesday, her hands briefly above the typewriter. “Where is she?” You asked, emphasizing your question even more as you raised a brow. 

Wednesday sighed, standing up from her chair. “Sulking and complaining to Ajax or Divina,” She explained, leading you out of the window by giving your forehead a gentle flick. You mouthed an ‘oh’ shape, knowing where that would lead to. Your mind wandered if Ajax could comfort Enid in such a way, because, knowing him — it would be an easy yet ineffective display, mostly because of his tiny, little serpents. 

The scent of Wednesday Addams attained your senses, though, the spinning of the glass window in front of you distracted it. You can see a new addition to the dorm; a giant detective board, with pictures of disgusting pieces of body parts, it almost made you drop and vomit. Almost, not until Wednesday inquired with a furrowed brow (you could tell); “Why is it your concern?” 

You turned, glancing to the back of her head. Walking up to her was easy, taking mental note not to stand too far nor too close, figuring that Wednesday didn’t like close and intimate proximities. “She was upset that Yoko got an allergic reaction again.” You answered truthfully. You saw her shake gently. A swift chance of courage shook your presence. “I also came here to talk to you actually.” 

Wednesday’s mouth dropped into a firm line, almost frowning. Her solemn face returned, however, when she looked at you. “Make it quick.” She commanded. 

You beamed, wings fluttering in excitement, and Wednesday knew it was going to be a long talk, or night, if you made your move. You propped yourself up at the balcony, sitting comfortably, your eyes straightforward. “Don’t you admire your parent’s love for each other?” 

Wednesday is right, she mentally prepared herself for her own upcoming answer, a tiny voice in her throat buried itself until she gave it full thought. “I do, why?” 

You bit your inner cheeks, nodding to your side, as you cleared your throat. “Their love is called Pragma; long standing love.” Shifting your sentences to something less obvious isn’t something you had me mind. “They might’ve had a friendship too, which is Philia.” 

Wednesday raised her brows, an inquiry isn’t something she’ll speak out in these conversations. But then again, she is an Addams, her opinions most likely matter because of the pressure that she instills on them. “Friendship? Before marriage, there’s… friendship?” She tried not to show the hesitant tone that concluded her sentence, a rushed tone dragged the tension. 

You shook your head in a ‘no’, pushing your hair behind your ear. “Not just before marriage, no. It’s something you have before any type of romance.” Without the knowledge of whose dropping these words but you, yourself, obliged you to speak more. Wednesday seemed confounded in your knowledge, conflict reached blood, as it ran cold. 

The thought of you having experienced a friendship that turned into… whatever her parents had, or, as you called it; Philia and Pragma. She had to admit, bearing that sight is a nightmare. 

Grabbing your wrists, Wednesday stood in front of you, holding your waist as you involuntarily yelped without the support of your hand on the cold marble. Her fingers dug into your side, into your jacket, as her eyes trailed in confusion. The girl in front of you blinked, a stricken flick of anger visible in her expressions. “Have you ever loved someone like that?” Wednesday inquired, glancing up at you, she held your gaze, before averting her own. 

The pacing of your heart quickened, lup-dup, lup-dub, lup-dub, lup-dub, lup-dub. Without the huffed breaths, you would’ve fallen in peace. You were certain Wednesday couldn’t catch you, so you managed to stay alive. Taking a breath and moving closer, inch to inch with Wednesday Addams; nose nuzzled, minty breath of yours, mixed with the scent of… coffee? Something of the sort, you couldn’t tell due to your proximity. “You.” 

Surprisingly, Wednesday didn’t back away when you stepped in closer, she only closed the gap that accompanied the two of you. Catching your lips into hers, moving in sync with your own. Her other hand accompanied your lower back, rubbing it in circles. Your hands found freedom in her jaw, cold fingers against it, underlining the perfect structure. 

Wednesday pulled away, catching her breath, forehead against yours. She gave your lips another peck, which you reciprocated. Your eyes gently shut, recalling the last of what you could see was Wednesday’s half-shut eyes. A flooding warm of heat pulled your stomach down as she deepened the kiss. 

Ecstasy engulfed you and (hopefully) Wednesday. 

Forgetting that breathing existed is something you would’ve never forgotten, afterall, not after this. You needed air although worry didn’t cross your mind, not once, when this is happening. Nothing could be processed actually. The only thoughts that occupy your mind is Wednesday, Wednesday, Wednesday, Wednesday. 

You pulled away, chest heaving up and down for breaths, a still laugh erupting from your throat. “Who taught you how to kiss like that?” You asked, cockiness reached your lips, quirking upwards into a smile. You were pulled up with a jerk of her shoulders, diminishing the cruelty that settled on your lips, which were puffy and pink now. 

Wednesday settled in a firm hug, burying her face into your jacket. A quiet sniffle of laughter carefully rolled out of your tongue. She wrinkled her nose, bringing her chin to your shoulders. She responded, bringing her head up. “My parents, they always kiss in front me and my brother.” 

You nodded in understanding, a hum vibrating your chest in response. You closed your eyes in the warmth of her body near you, feeling a tug of your jacket with her fingers. The exposure of your warm, clothed skin to the wind did not make you please. Not until Wednesday’s mouth found closure in your skin, her warm tongue and soft lips sucking on it carefully. 

This made your eyes open in shock, a kept groan couldn’t contain itself, leaving your mouth with no permission. “Addams,” You meekly called, averting your eyes to the side, though, your head jerked up; giving her more skin to attack. “Someone- someone will notice.” You warned, fingers circling her back as an attempt to call after her. 

Wednesday obliged. Though, she smirked at it, noticing the bruise, pulling your jacket back to its place in your neck. A glimpse of visible purple marks accompanied it. An audible groan left your mouth, hiding your face to the side, as your wings wrapped the two of you. “What?” She asked, closely inspecting the wrapped wings that shook slightly. “Be thankful it’s not your lips, it would’ve been far worse.” She concluded. 

Goosebumps overtook your body. Jumping down from your spot, cautious as to not step on Wednesday. You hugged her closely. “What are we now?” 

Wednesday raised a brow, you were sure a tender smile attended her features. “Pragma and Philia, as you said.” 

♡ PLEASE LIKE AND REBLOG TO SUPPORT ME.

𝐂𝐎𝐆𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐃 ;; wednesday addams

Pairing ;; Wednesday Addams x fem!Reader

Summary: Wednesday is the most affectionate when it's time to sleep, much to your dismay.

Warnings: one of Wednesday's death threats.

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Maybe a bit OOC but I love that headcannon that Wednesday shows a bit of her soft side whenever she's sleepy, though to very certain people. Enjoy :)

You’ve been pestering Wednesday a healthy amount. Even avoiding your own friends to spend time with her, though, you seemed to have regretted that decision, just a little bit. 

In the bed of your girlfriend’s, you laid on your wing to the side, listening to the loud tune of Pathetique outside, as Enid chats with Ajax through the phone. The wing in which you laid on stayed motionless, asleep, that when you reached your hand to feel it, it didn’t feel like your own body, but instead someone else's'. 

Wednesday is doing her nightly cello playing, as she did when she first got here. You admired her passion, consistency, and dedication to her schedule. You admired her writing. You admired her creativity. You admired everything about her, flaws and all. You admired her. 

“You just don’t know how to show it,” Enid says loudly, probably referring to you more than she refers to Ajax. It made you grimace, seeing as your friend looked out for your emotions that weren’t shown much on display. “But, you know, I’ll notice anyway.” She continued. The feathers on top of your head, that certainly will get you a scolding from Mrs. Davidson, the second normie teacher to teach in Nevermore after the accident with Lauren Gates, felt as if they had melted and left two side-eyeing holes. 

“He doesn’t even know you notice.” You looked up, adjusting your position on Wednesday’s bed. It had been a couple of months ever since you were back in Nevermore. Ophelia Hall’s stayed the same, the sense of nostalgia hit your vision, making your wings flutter in response. 

Enid stood up from her bed, grabbing her pink snood from the end of her bed. Her hair, unlike before, was much longer now, reaching past her shoulders. Blue and pink are still evident at the ends of it. Her face is more developed yet keeping the innocent Enid Sinclair charm (as Eugene would call it). 

“I’m going to Ajax’s dorm,” She secured her phone in her pocket, rummaging through her closet as she pulled out a blue snood. You couldn’t protest with what she said, since the werewolf always deserts you every time, she pries you about something. She left a bunch of clothes on her bed, making it look like gnomes vomited rainbows. “Talk to her,” Enid motioned her head to the window, referring to Wednesday. “And call me when you both are done making out.” 

You stood up from your position swiftly, almost making you black out. “You mean making up!” You half-yelled, vision still blurred though enough to see that Enid has gone with the door closed. 

As if on cue, Wednesday walked through the spider-like glass, a squeak of noise echoing in the dorms. Her hair still tightly kept in her signature braids, one on each side, both equally parted. Her small, scattered, and cute freckles were much, much visible – probably due to the lack of makeup she wore today. 

Speaking of wearing, the clothes she wore are always black. This time she wore a comfortable black tee shirt (she learned her lesson to never wear white shirts over black bras years ago, not that she was going to wear the color white again) and parachute-like pajama, black pants. “Stare at me like that again and I’ll poke your eyes out.” She threatened, papers held in her hand, though from your perspective, they were weapons. 

“Sorry… you’re just-” You stopped mid-sentence, a grimace forming in your lips, a small one so as to not drift the conversation apart quickly. “I haven’t been this near you in a while.” 

Wednesday’s eyes bore into yours. “I’m 2 meters apart from you.” She didn’t waste any time walking closer, not to you though. She placed her musical sheets in a category of folders, each one of them either being black or transparent. 

“Wednesday,” You called, not to test her emotions or lack of eye contact, to simply call your girlfriend. “You say you’re allergic to colors… how does that work?” You asked cautiously, as she dipped down the bed next to you. Your wings fluttered, wrapping around her side subconsciously. She didn’t pull back, leaning in against the soft feathers. 

Wednesday began undoing her braid. “I’m not allergic to it.” She answered in a soft tone, yawning under her hands right after. “Just have a different reaction to it than everybody else.” She explained, she stood up to place the hair tie on her desk. She dipped back down her bed, pushing your wing aside carefully as you stood up. She laid on her side, not staring at you. 

You didn’t want to pester her any further, although you remembered Enid’s words; talk to her.

In response to her answer, you questioned. The thick air was choking back your questions. At the simplest and shortest eye contact from Wednesday, you wanted to continue. “Why?” was all you could ask, short and curios were your tone. Interested filled your smile.

“Don’t,” She started, gazing down her lap. “Smile like that.” Wednesday stood up from her lying position, crossing her legs. Her eyes locked down her pants, minding their own business. 

Wednesday Addams, nothing like her sweet mother from what you’ve witnessed during vacation, she wasn’t exactly like her father too. She is Wednesday. She did not inherit after her parents’, but, as her own personality. The girl who was prophesied to kill an entire school, the girl who changed that said prophecy. 

She is brilliant. And you remembered yourself, following after Lauren Gates through the cave. You remember yourself freezing when she was stabbed, not knowing exactly what to do. And a ghost, much like Wednesday herself, healed her every wound. Seeping in through her. 

You could still feel Goody Addams in Wednesday Addams. You felt the stronger push and pull through her heart. And it felt even more promising as you are talking to her right now. Wednesday’s energy is strong and complex. Right now, it’s at ease. And it was evident in her body language, shoulders relaxed, legs crossed with one another. 

If it didn’t seem like she’s relaxed. Her heavy eyelids were about to shut though she kept it awake, certainly spoke for themselves. “You should sleep,” You whispered, pulling yourself up from the bed, sighing. You could talk to her tomorrow. And you could call Enid tomorrow, as well. If she isn’t in the detention office already. 

“Must you go?” Wednesday pulled you lightly from the wrist, showing the frailty in her tone. Sleep caught on with her looks now. 

You shook your head, sitting down on the bed, facing her this time. “I can stay…” Your voice trailed, then, you remembered you were talking to an Addams. “If you want me to.” 

Wednesday looked conflicted but gave a sharp nod. Her eyes drifted to your wings, leaning in before giving them a light touch. “It’s so soft.” She whispered; voice sleepy. Her body weight leaned in against you. “Why is it so soft?” 

You laid down to your side, tapping on your wings for room. Wednesday stared down at you, before she laid down. “They’re called down feathers, y’know like the clouds.” You answered, softly kissing her hair, the bridge your nose tickled. 

Your hands were wrapped around her. She kissed your palms lightly. “Sleep.” She commanded and you could not help but oblige. Your wings wrapped around your body and Wednesday's, like a blanket. 

The personal warmth cuddled around the room. Before closing off into your dreams, Thing sat on the table. “G’night, bud.” You say, smiling as he formed a small heart with his fingers.

The next day, Enid was in the detention office, smiling as you passed by.

𝐈𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍, ;; spider-man

Pairing ;; post-nwh!Spider-Man x gn!Reader

Summary: Spider-Man wanted to go for a swing, he didn't expect his hero to ask him for one though.

Warnings: established relationship lol. memory loss (bcuz of dr. strange), angst w/ fluff probs? i want my fics to be surprising so... nothing too nsfw or explicit though !!

Word Count: 3k

A/N: my first ever fic on this app. the title has nothing to do with the story. english isn't my first language so i BEG of you to show some sympathy for me. they're an avatar for the goddess Till (basically a goddess OC), inspired by Moon-Knight. throwback to my august 2022 author self who was going through it -- this sparked my idea for this fic, otherwise, i was just bored (yes, i do have homework, what's it to you?)

The old smell of rotten rust hit your nose as you sat on a hard edge of a New York building, one leg swinging mindlessly. You stretched before you yawned, dawning over the fact that there might not actually be a gang of bandits in this part of Manhattan – post-bright winter, the holiday spirits dissipating. 

These nights, you would wait with your suit, in the cold, possibly walking around or stretching, or jumping from building to building for an adrenaline rush, as well as in need of warm air. Preferring solitude over crimes, you don’t know the exact reason you’re out almost every night. But you do know that air outside, crisp and on-going, is much better than air inside of cranky apartments. 

As your chest falls, a sound from behind jolts your back forward, your mask covering your face. Before you turned around with a weapon in hand. 

“Hi,” You heard the Spider say. “You can’t sleep too?” He said from underneath his mask, moving forward as he reached the edge of the building carefully, inching beside your alert figure. He sighed, the sound of his harsh breathing under his mask and the rise of his chest as it struggled to reach for air. 

This could be another reason that you were up every night. Expecting someone to accompany you. Though, you were growing a certain feeling that this isn’t just the case.

Under your very own mask, you breathed deeply, thankful it wasn’t another landlord. “I prefer solitude over… honeymoon noises,” You stated hesitantly, though your voice was uninterested in the business that the Spider had to say. 

“That too,” He says, still struggling to breath, but managing to calm himself. “But mostly, you can’t sleep too right?” He asked again. 

You gave in, allowing your body to relax under the new presence. “Something isn’t right.” You say, clutching your hands together, an attempt to halt your fidgeting with whatever was around. “I don’t know what it is, but something is bothering me.” 

A few months ago, you were saving the world, not knowing the exact reason who you were saving it from. But you did anyway, miraculously, with Spider-Man. From his perspective, he appeared as if he didn’t want to talk about it. You didn’t want to pry or nag, so you didn’t. 

In return to that very same conversation, you referred to it as something. 

Spider-Man shifted from his seat, sighing. Pulling his mask above his nose so he can breathe properly, he clicked his tongue, looking down at the streets. He didn’t respond immediately, still in thought of a response, he stifled. “Do you want to talk about it or do you want to be distracted from it?” He didn’t look at you, quite frankly, he didn’t know how. It would’ve been awkward enough, sitting on top of a building at one in the morning. 

“I don’t know... I mean,” You groaned loudly, unsure of how to word your sentences. The offer he gave is still hanging in the air, unanswered. By your curiosity and the presence of the Spider, you tried to speak. “I want to know.” 

He nodded, scoffing in awareness of how you word your sentences, though he took a mental note of your social skills, smiling softly at his familiar obtained knowledge. “You want to talk about it, then?” From beneath his mask, he eyed you curtly, seeing you nod slowly. “What’s something you want to know?” 

You clicked your tongue, finally looking at the Spider. Trying to look for the something that bothered you so much, trying to remember that something. You scanned his side-view, blurring and bright alongside with the filter of your mask. Goddammit, your suit was such a bother. “I don’t remember what happened a few months ago,” You shook your head as you looked away. “I remember this boy, Peter Parker, he was… smart, awkward, nice, mostly awkward though.” You shook your head, attempting to pinpoint the topic you were giving out. 

Meanwhile, Spider-Man froze at the mere mention of his name, his true name. He did a good job in hiding it apparently, giving you a careful look as you tried to come up with another sentence. Oh boy. 

He could take off his mask and mutter a big ‘surprise!’ before standing up and swinging away. He could say ‘oh well, you were the love of my life, or you weren’t because that’s how unclear we were back then.’ but he held back, sticking to the topic of the mention of his name. 

“This Peter boy,” He cringed, biting the insides of his cheeks to bite back a scowl to himself. “Was… was he important to you?” He said hesitantly, watching as you searched for another sentence. 

Spider-Man was never hesitant, he would be confident in how he forms his fists to throw a punch, confident in the way he would choose his words. He’s passive, sympathetic, and friendly. Peter is silent… smart, awkward, nice, as you described him. 

With four words, you crushed his soul, not only Peter's, but his; The Neighborhood Friendly Spider-Man. “I don’t think so.” Everything stilled, like his heart stopped beating, like his breath hitched in shock. In reality, behind that mask, your brows furrowed in concentration, trying to remember the way Peter’s hands would graze yours when the two of you were paired together in the Science labs. Although, that was the end of it. Nothing crossed the feeling of warmth and connection of high-school in those days. 

You shook your head lightly, away from the thoughts, gazing back at Spider-Man. “What about you? Are you scared?” You asked, unaware of the heavyweight building up in his chest every time you spoke. 

“So scared,” Spider-Man admitted, still trying to comprehend what you just said. You seemed so nonchalant about your answer that he wanted to ask again, so he would, another time maybe. For now, he wanted to accept this, he wanted to accept that you could possibly remember him. Not Spider-Man, him; Peter Parker. He meant to say ‘I’m scared for you’. 

He meant to say that you mattered to him. That you weren’t a partner in his heroistic acts, or some ‘random hero’ (as Jonah Jameson calls you). You were you. Peter loves you underneath the mask and above it. In and out. Peter loves you and your insanely high morality. 

He expected you not pry further but you spoke with a voice that reminded him he existed. “Do you want to talk about it or do you want to be distracted from it?” You quoted him, doing your best to be comforting as the superhero just admitted that he was so scared. 

Spider-Man scoffed, standing up and pulling down his mask, he stood cautiously at the edge of the building. Thor, why does everything have to be so difficult? “I want to be distracted from it,” And with that, he jumped down. Swinging to the next building in a second, he landed on his foot, looking back at you as he signalled you to come along. 

You smiled, standing up before you heard a voice. He’s very pushy, y’know. The Goddess, Till, appeared beside you, eyeing Spider-Man incredulously. Her long, braided hair trailed behind her back as loud footsteps thud, unheard by normal humans, but seen by you, were walking back towards the door of the rooftop. You need rest, child. She declared. 

You look back, following your Goddess with your eyes. “Oh Till, you can’t blame the poor hero, he’s been through shit,” You felt chills go down your spine as she looked back one last time. You look back at the Spider, he was ready to swing to another building, you gave him a thumbs up before looking back lazily, your mask forging down on its own. “Please? I’ll get some rest when I’m done distracting him, I promise.” You confirmed with a sure nod, though Till was not convinced. 

Your job as my avatar is to protect people from harm, not help them from their wrecked mental state. She raised her head high. You will not see him tomorrow unless you rest later, understood? She disappeared before your answer was decided. You were grateful anyway. 

Your mask forged back on its own, as you felt your body swiftly transport to the building that Spider-Man was standing on. A blur of your own body as you recognized the bright blue and red suit. Although, he wasn’t here. 

Another blur from your vision, a sudden disconnection from your body, as you teleported to another building, a tense sense of fragileness building up in the pit of your abdomen. “There we go!” Spider-Man’s voice trailed with excitement. But all you could focus on was the dizziness and spinning of the room. 

“Wait, hold on—!” You turned around before your mask could forge down on its own as you breathed in and coughed out immediately. A huge lump in your throat built up. “Don’t look,” You pleaded. “Please.” 

Spider-Man didn’t know how to respond other than to nod hesitantly and turn around, respecting your privacy as much as he really wanted to see you. He pulled up his mask too, above his nose, exposing his nose to the fresh air. He breathed in deeply, chest heaving up and down. 

Behind him, the coughing ceased and footsteps approached him.

“I thought teleportation was easy,” Spider-Man wondered aloud, looking back at you, licking his chapped lips. Though the tension and uneasiness was brought up in the air, a price of most superheroes. He knew their night would come to an end any time soon. Peter had a speech he needed to finish by Sunday, though he wasn’t quite sure of you. Were you majoring in psychology or in arts? 

A sudden exchange of your reply came to a halt, realisation struck that he wasn’t really paying attention, but instead staring at you. As if looking through your bright, white eyes from his mask. “I’m going to puke all over you if you don’t stop that,” You blurted out, annoyance present and on-going by the sound of your voice and the look of your stance; arms crossed together. 

“There they are,” Spider-Man scoffed, a half-toothy grin slowly appearing on his face. “What were you saying again, partner?” He teased lightly. You brought your head up high, pointing to the massive crane. He slowly followed your gaze, as he locked eyes with the familiar, abandoned crane carving a shadow in the distance. 

Oh. 

You gulped, as Spider-Man brought his mask down again, ready to swing from the next building. Grabbing his wrist, a familiar warmth started centering your heart, making your eyes glow – if not, much brighter than it was before. Fuck this mask, you thought. “Could you swing us there?” You inquired, bringing your head down. “It’s alright if you can’t… since, y’know, I might be a bit heavy—” 

Your sentence was cut short with a sudden hand on your waist and a sure nod. There. Bringing your skin a double sense of awareness from underneath your suit, though it disappeared as Spider-Man brought it down again. Somehow, it made you frown. “Agh— I’m sorry! I mean, yes! Of course, I’d swing you there, I just— Can I hold you? I’m sorry for not asking earlier and— and—” 

You shook your head in amusement, watching as he struggled to put his thoughts into words now. “You dumbass, just do it, I don’t want to puke again.” You said, though you added; “It’s alright, really.” You nodded in reassurance, as he held you around the waist, again, this time he brought you closer to his chest. 

“No, no,” His hands slid down the back of your thigh, bringing it up his waist. “Here,” Spider-Man corrected, as he held your wrist in his hands, bringing it up to his shoulders. “There,” He said proudly, you could feel a small tug from behind his mask. You didn’t know what he looked like beneath it, though curious, you noticed the tension hanging in the air, diminishing as soon as the hero looked away. “Hold on tight, alright?” He stated cockily, quirking his hand away from you, expecting you to hold on. 

With that, the mix of a falling sensation and adrenaline rush washed over you. Mostly in the fear of falling off, you held unto the Spider for dear life. Behind your mask, you bit back a scream. You wanted to look back, though unable to, you were unable to do so due to the speed that Spider-Man was swinging. 

The wind forced your eyes shut, creasing your eyebrows together. There isn’t a word that described the constant falling and rising of excitement and fear that reappeared and disappeared while swinging. But the harsh wind that stayed present outlined the experience enough as it is. 

Then it ceased, your whole world was spinning now that both of your legs were on firm metal ground. Spider pushed your back against the tower peak, to keep you steady. He laughed scruffily. “You liked that?” He says, positioning his mask above his nose. 

You couldn’t respond due to the heightened feeling of warmth against your chest and his. You could hear him breathing, feel him. You huffed, feeling ants rise above your cheeks, tackling the cold. 

He realised the scene, pushing himself from you but never leaving his warm hands from your shoulders, keeping you steady. “Oh- oh, I’m sorry.” A light form of blush appeared on his cheeks, thankfully, a smile from you broke the tension. 

“I liked it,” You said, looking down. Shaking your head, your bright, white eyes from your mask. “I loved it.” You beamed, a wide smile forming. It’s been a while since you’ve felt pushed over the edge in exciting adventures, just as the type of adventure you were pushed into when Iron Man was still around. 

Looking back, you were much carefree, a lot more secretive, a lot simpler to hunt too, but you never took it as a problem. You were protected by yourself, by Spider-Man, somehow. 

You never forgot the measly science facts he threw at you. And the Peter Parker student that you shared Science classes with and table seats, along with his good friend, Ned Leeds. 

Now it was all a blip of time. Something that you’d joke about with someone like Spider-Man. Though, you couldn’t. Unbearably, the ‘situations’ you both went through, it was too severe to even heal. Who would heal them? A seed bearer couldn’t possibly heal their souls. Too fragile, even to a tangible sense. 

“Sit down, you’ll fall.” Spider-Man spoke, patting down a spot next to him. He was already sitting on the rail of the crane, legs swinging. When he didn’t hear your footsteps, he looked back, a silence of confusion and comfort fused together. 

It was until a burning question slipped from your tongue. “Did you get distracted?” With this you sat down, not next to him, but at your steady place, the crane’s tower peak, your head was thrown back in exhaustion, the dark hiding you. 

God dammit. Spider-Man and Peter Parker. Those two were never in the same room, or at least, you couldn’t recall it. His voice was nearly as identical as Spider’s, though nice and lifted, a pinch of neshness evident. Spider’s was… confident, matured and hoarse, sure and cocky. 

You wanted to know. 

“I just remembered everything now that you’ve mentioned that,” Spider-Man scoffed. “It’s like I’ve distracted you more than myself.” He teased, recalling the muffled ‘what the fuck’ as he swung from building to building. 

You gulped, bringing your legs to your chest, laying your chin on top of your knees. Mask and suit on, keep in mind. “I can distract you.” You said, burying your face in your knees. You heard the Spider approaching, he inched himself by your side. 

“You can’t just say that while you bury your face,” Spider said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “You have to sound confident.” He said, though, his intention was to tease. He didn’t expect you to try again, this time, with your head high as you gazed towards him. Mask and suit on. 

“I can distract you…” You inched closer, keeping a gap between the two of you. “If you keep your eyes closed.” 

Spider-Man frowned, he wanted to see your face. But for the sake of whatever you were going to do, as if it wasn’t blatantly obvious enough for him, he would do it. He nodded sharply, a gulp in response, closing his eyes. “Are you okay with this?” He heard you say and he felt himself nod, as if in a dream. 

With that, the gap between the two heroes was closed. You brought your lips with his, syncing with the feeling of warmth of the physical contact; the way his hands slid down your waist, the small graze of contact you held with his jaw, the way your lips connected, moving in with each other. Accepting the intimate moments of heaved breaths. And somewhere in between, you could feel him smile into the kiss. 

You pulled apart, the both of you out of breath. You were thankful that your hair covered your face, for it was flushed. And you were thankful, it wasn’t as windy. 

Spider-Man was taken aback, he side-eyed you, though pulled his gaze away from you. Surprised and startled (and perhaps, you could describe his heart stopped beating for a moment) that you didn’t have your mask on. He wanted to brush your hair away, pushing them behind your ear, just so he could see your pretty face. Though his self-control was high. 

“So,” You started, the sound of your mask forged up. “Did that distract you?” 

Spider scoffed, breathing in deeply. He looked up at the spinning sky. “The sky or the kiss?” He questioned, unaware and unconcerned about your figure in alert mode. He looked back at you, expecting a teasing answer in response. Though instead, you stood up. A weapon in your hand this time. 

You rolled your eyes, gazing up at the sky. “What the fuck is Marc up to?” 

♡ PLEASE LIKE & REBLOG TO SUPPORT ME.

Raidyn sat on the thick tree branch crisscrossed, moonlight struck his face with little to no more light than needed. It's cold, winds of icicles beating his skin, his bare hands tightened, the wings of his feather fell down with neshness.

The gang was sleeping quite... soundly below, the fire gradually growing smaller. With this, there was barely any light to see anything, not even the moon could bring them enough light. But this wind was a blessing, oh, it really was. In the morning the sun peaking through the forest glades were enough to make everything heat up, weary legs, aching arms, heaving breaths, furrowed eyes, and sweat sticking out freshly from their foreheads.

"Hoy," A voice called him and a flurry of wings rustled from behind the tree branch.

The man cracked his knuckles. "Hoy yourself." He whispered with a smile that Jayce couldn't see. "How did you make it out of the dark?"

Jayce scoffed, scratching the back of his wings, and settling himself comfortably down the thick tree branch. He was quite sure that they'll fall any second. "With my eyes, of course."

Raidyn's brows crept up his forehead. "I thought you were partially blind."

"Partially," The boy's mouth twitched upward, he breathed in the cool air. "Your sibling was crying herself to sleep again."

"Who?"

Silence.

"Well, Ryna, who else?" Jayce clicked his tongue with annoyance. He said it like that without hesitation.

"Uhm," The man started, his hand on his chin, demanding and thinking hard, his mind elsewhere. "Zer and Deborah and Kaori and—"

"I mean your biological sibling." He interrupted, as though exhausted with him, but Jayce could never be exhausted with people like them, no, especially them.

Raidyn sighed. "I... I have to go some time, y'know?" He apologetically said, he didn't really think about saying it like this, tonight. This night where everything is meant to be savored, taken in with a rest.

"But she loves you," Jayce protested, the faintest smile of his lips disappeared. "I mean," He cleared his throat. "I do too, we all love each other, or at least that's what I think, even though I..." His voice faded, and Raidyn could see him shrug from the dark.

A long, thick silence that finished Jayce's speech brought courage to his lungs again. "I'll remember you," He said. "No homo."

Raidyn snickered quietly, his chest heaving up and down, before he spoke. “I’ll remember. And you’ll remember, because you’ll be alive to do so.” Then his head lowered at the now sleeping Ryna. "All of you will."

---

Here's a quick little drabble of my OCs'. Not my best writing because I'm still a wreck at the moment, anyway, thank you to @sleepyprompts for sparking an idea in my brain. It's been a while since my fingers stretched this much, so thank you <33

btw, don't be afraid to give constructive criticism, it helps a ton!!

Prompt #701

“I’ll remember. And you’ll remember, because you’ll be alive to do so.”