tomiti's idiots

tomislav/tomiti | he/she/they | 23 | side blog where i talk about my dumbass ocs and the dumberasser shit they get up to (mostly in the mcu) | main is @send-noodles-not-nudes

[tomitis-ocs]

Me making a collage of my ocs' fcs vs remembering tumblr's pfp is circular and not square 🤦 most of them just get part of their bodies cut off this is fine

Anyway here's the actual collage if you wanna see it

Anyway, welcome to my sideblog. Main is @send-noodles-not-nudes if you wanna see my regular shitposting. This blog is specifically for oc shitposting ✌️ these are my idiots and I love them, I hope you love them too!

[send-noodles-not-nudes]

#165—The End | Peter Parker

prequel/sequel to The Great Reveal Pairing: Peter Parker/Cassiopeia Stone

Warnings: None, just Peter getting information blue-balled.

Word count: 447 + 300 word epilogue Times word count has successfully been ≤300: 117

For the June Jukebox Scribbles challenge hosted by @societynsoelsscribbles | June 30: Alt lyric—I can't believe this could be the end.

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Seven years.

For seven years, Peter had known his villain. For most of that time, he'd also been wildly in love with her, including when she'd completely disappeared from New York with nothing more than a note left for him in her apartment telling him she didn't know when she'd be back.

That was five years ago.

A lot had happened since then. He'd gotten through college, found a job, became an Avenger, started dating the girl of his dreams… but he always had the 'what if' at the back of his mind. What if she hadn't left? What if he'd gotten to know who she was? What if she joined the good side?

Two weeks ago, it looked like he might get to answer some of those questions.

She came back.

A hero, this time, under a different name, but it was her.

He could finally have an answer to his questions.

She'd gotten away the first time. He'd been too shocked to stop her, but he didn't make the same mistake this time. After the bad guy had been dealt with, he talked with her, worked out a time they could have a more in-depth discussion in private. They met at her old apartment later that night.

Peter had arrived first. He was anxious, pacing, unable to believe this could finally be the end. No more questions. No more wondering. No more "what if"s. Just the truth and a weight off his shoulders, and hopefully the start of a friendship, now that he was a taken man and couldn't be with her.

They both agreed the first thing on the to-do list was to tell each other who they were. His villain—his hero?—proposed they do it together, on the count of three. "Ready?" she asked, hand over her mask. Peter nodded. "One… two…"

Her phone rang.

Ben. That fucking detective that had done nothing but get in his way since she'd come back.

She was getting paged.

Both of them froze.

"Shit, Webs, I'm so sorry," she groaned, "I gotta go. Will you wait for me?" Peter sighed, but he knew there wasn't anything he could do about it.

"I'll be here," he nodded, plopping down on the floor. "It's not like you'll be gone another five years, right?"

"No, but that smart mouth of yours better be gone when I get back," she laughed, "or I'm backtracking on letting you know who I am."

Peter decided he wouldn't give her a choice, watching her leave and taking his mask off once she was out of sight.

He'd already waited seven years to show her who he was.

He wouldn't wait any longer.

Epilogue (post-The Great Reveal)

After the long-awaited identity reveal, they stayed in Peia's old apartment for hours, just chatting.

"I can't believe it was you this whole time!" Peia said, shaking her head. "Do you know how stupid I feel? I was so tormented over you and Spider-Man, trying to figure out why you both felt like soulmates… I can't believe I never thought you were the same fucking person!" She laughed, but he could tell she was frustrated over it, that she'd agonized over a dilemma that was never supposed to be a dilemma.

"Uh, do you know how stupid I am?" he corrected. "I thought about it. You two're enough alike that I thought maybe you were the same person, but I pushed the thought down because surely, my girlfriend would tell me if she was an alien, right?" He let out a long sigh. "Ned's gonna lose his mind when I tell him."

"Am I terrible for wanting to make him guess?" she asked, biting her lips. Peter laughed riotously.

"Oh, maybe you are evil!" he grinned. "No wonder I love you."

"Well, I love you for making me feel less dumb," she smiled, kissing his cheek. "I still can't believe you forgot I'm not human." Peter's face reddened.

"You said that as 'Ven!" he defended.

"Seven years ago!" Peia laughed. "I know for a fact I told you my people were from a different planet the first time you came into my apartment."

"It took me a minute to… remember you were the same person," he mumbled. "My brain may have short circuited a little."

"Mmm, when does it not?" she teased, leaning in to kiss him. "See? There it goes again." Peter rolled his eyes.

"How about you stop using your mouth for evil and kiss me again?"

"Always."

a/n: THE LAST ONE!!! i cant believe what a crazy journey this has been. 165 fics?? in a MONTH??? i am so fucking proud of myself and i hope this has been as fun for yall as it has been for me 💚💚 another huge HUGE thank you to everyone whos read and interacted with these scribbles, and to society and soel for putting together a phenomenal prompts list!

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[send-noodles-not-nudes]

#164—Precious | Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Adelaide Stone

Warnings: mention of debating getting rid of an accidental pregnancy, dad!Bucky, fluff, ending of impending doom. tagging @cueloki to see if she remembers who stevie is 😈

Word count: 300 Times word count has successfully been ≤300: 16

For the June Jukebox Scribbles challenge hosted by @societynsoelsscribbles | June 30: Alt lyric—Hush, hush, darling.

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Things with Bucky had been an accident.

He was the last thing Adelaide ever would have expected. The whole thing started after a few too many drinks at one of Tony's parties, and ended different than anything she'd foreseen. She let him fall in love with her, and wasn't too far behind him in falling in love, herself. They had an accidental pregnancy Adelaide almost ended, and now, here she was, watching her boyfriend soothe their baby girl back to sleep.

She'd gotten up to take care of Stevie, too tired to realize Bucky was no longer in bed beside her. It was too precious to interrupt when she saw him holding her, rocking back and forth on his feet, talking to her sweetly. "Shh-shh-shh, darlin', hush," he whispered, bouncing her in his arms. "Daddy's here. I'm gonna take care of you."

He let Stevie grab a tiny fistful of his long hair, her other hand wrapped around one of his fingers, sang an old lullaby to her from the 40s. All Adelaide could do was admire from the doorway, oddly sad it was over when Stevie finally fell back to sleep.

"Hey," Bucky greeted once the door was shut. "I thought I told you I'd get the next one? What're you doin' up?"

"Force of habit. I kinda forgot that you offered, and when I saw you with her… it was just too sweet to go back to bed." A wicked grin broke out on Bucky's face.

"Yeah?" he asked, arms snaking around her waist. "You wanna go make another one?" Adelaide laughed, covering her mouth with her hand to hopefully avoid waking the baby.

"Are you kidding me?! While we're still not sleeping at night?"

"I'm not hearing a no," he teased.

Unfortunately, their happiness couldn't last forever.

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[send-noodles-not-nudes]

#163—The News | Carlton Lassiter

Pairing: Carlton Lassiter/Spenser Spencer

Warnings: None. One joke about autism bc Lassiter is one of my favorite autistic hcs and tbh I'd react that way too.

Word count: 391 Times word count has successfully been ≤300: 15

For the June Jukebox Scribbles challenge hosted by @societynsoelsscribbles | June 30: Song—Don't Speak by No Doubt.

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Spenser had something she wanted to tell her boyfriend.

Lassiter was convinced his girlfriend was about to break up with him.

The end result? A complete communication breakdown.

Every time Spenser opened her mouth to say something, Lassiter panicked and talked over her. It was getting to be a little ridiculous, frankly, especially when they were trying to work on a case together and he wouldn't let her get any ideas out to the group. Shawn was getting tired of whatever was going on, so he found an excuse to drag Jules and Gus on a side quest after shooting a look to his sister to tell him to sort her shit.

Opting for a bit of privacy, Spenser dragged Lassiter into an interrogation room to have a serious talk and not give him the option of avoiding it. "I have been trying to tell you something all day," she sighed once the door was shut.

"I know, and I think I know what it is, and that's why I'm trying t—"

She cut him off by pressing a gloved hand against his lips, muffling the rest of his sentence. "You keep doing that, and I really don't appreciate it," she said, not moving her hand. "I have been trying to tell you that I love you."

She moved her hand, but Lassiter stood there in silence for a moment, processing. "You… You do?" he finally asked, earning a laugh from his girlfriend.

"Most people say it back, you know," she sassed, shaking her head. "I guess I should know by now that you're not 'most people'."

"Wow. You love me and you're calling me special."

"Yeah, special in the autism way, Lass," Spenser frowned, arms crossed. That seemed to jog his mind and he inhaled sharply.

"Shit, Spense, I didn't mean-… Of course I love you, too," he said softly, taking her hands. "I'm just processing. I thought you were trying to break up with me."

"What?! No, corazón, why would I want to break up with you? You make me happy!"

"…You know this is gonna drive your brother up the wall, right?"

"Oh, I'm counting on it."

"God, I love you."

"Aren't you glad you let me tell you, then?"

"Not as glad as I am that you love me."

Nothing could break his smile after that news.

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[send-noodles-not-nudes]

#162—Short Stack | Sam Winchester

Pairing: Sam Winchester/Chelsea McNeil

Warnings: one (1) dick joke.

Word count: 300 Times word count has successfully been ≤300: 115

For the June Jukebox Scribbles challenge hosted by @societynsoelsscribbles | June 30: Chosen lyric—I know what you're thinkin'.

You DO NOT have my permission to repost or upload my fic anywhere, including into an AI, tumblr, or other sites! Reblogs only!

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Because of the demon blood, Sam had about the only (human) noggin on the planet that remained a mystery to Chelsea. She'd learned how to read him, though, something he apparently wasn't betting on when they were workshopping plan b's for their current hunt.

"Absolutely not!" Chelsea protested with a gasp. "I know what yeh're thinkin', and we are not that desperate!"

"…I thought you couldn't read my mind?" Sam pondered.

"No, but I can read your face, and I won't allow you to even suggest tha' idea to Dean."

Of course, at the notion of forbidden knowledge, Dean perked right up. "Spill. Right now," he commanded, and Sam only offered his girlfriend a sarcastic frown before divulging his plan.

"So help me, God, this is the last time I hunt with a Winchester," she grumbled, shaking her head.

Where most roller coasters required riders to be above a certain height, the haunted coaster their current case revolved around was in the kid section of the theme park, meaning people of Sam and Dean's stature couldn't fit—not just awkwardly, but at all. Evidently, some coasters had a maximum height threshold, too.

Luckily for them, Chelsea was all of 4'10" tall, able to slot in perfectly with the 60-inch height maximum.

"No! I am a fucking adult; find a way to break the ride, or something, but I am not riding a haunted roller coaster alone with a bunch of children!"

"Why not? We can bring Eunice; it'll be great auntie-niece bonding time!" Sam smirked. Dean stifled a laugh in the lapel of his jacket.

"I hate you. I hope we body swap at some point—"

"So you can finally touch a dick?" Dean offered.

"So he knows what it's like to not be able to reach the top shelf!"

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[send-noodles-not-nudes]

#161—New Words | Evan "Buck" Buckley (ft. Eddie Diaz)

Pairing: Evan Buckley/Spenser Diaz ft. Eddie Diaz for context referenced in the scribble, spenser is a psych-turned-911 oc of mine whose husband was a cop and died on the job

Warnings: the "Buck knew Spanish the entire time" trope, I am not multilingual so anything not written in English will be italicized like it is for the phrases I do actually know in other languages, Eddie's gonna get his ass whooped, me debating if Buck is actually just dating both Diaz siblings atp bc why the fuck not, Spenser lowk calling Eddie the better brother bc Shawn doesn't know Spanish.

Word count: 300 Times word count has successfully been ≤300: 114

For the June Jukebox Scribbles challenge hosted by @societynsoelsscribbles | June 30: Alt lyric—And if it's real, well, I don't want to know.

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One unexpected bonus of moving to the same city as her other brother was that, unlike Shawn, Eddie actually spoke Spanish. It came in handy, especially for privacy, given that she was pretty sure they were (somehow) the only people fluent in the language at the station.

"Okay, run that by me one more time?" Eddie asked, giving his sister an odd look. Part of him wondered if he should start assessing her mental state because of what she was saying.

"I think that Buck might have feelings for me, and if they're real, well, I don't wanna know!" she said simply, as if that made total sense outside her own brain. "He's great, and I really like him; he's handsome, he's funny, he's sweet, he'd be great dad material, but if I'm right and my feelings are reciprocated… God, I just don't think I'm ready to be in a relationship again, especially with a first responder! You know what happened last time."

"You know Buck's right there, right?" he asked, pointing a few feet away where Buck was rolling a hose up.

"So what? Last I checked, the only ones who speak Spanish are us." Eddie bit the inside of his cheek, unsure of what to say.

"Hey, uh, Spense?" Buck offered after putting away the last hose. "I spent three years all over Central and South America, picking up odd jobs… and the local dialects. I haven't missed a single word you've said in either language."

Spenser's eyes swiveled back to Eddie, immediately grabbing the first detachable object nearby to hit Eddie with—repeatedly. "¡Hijo de la verga!" she started, followed by a whole host of curses Buck hadn't come across before.

"Wow. Can't say I've heard that one before… 11 countries, and I'm still learning new phrases!"

a/n: spanish speaking buck, you are so dear to me,,,, and i esp love the idea of spanish speaking buck who knows several different dialects somewhat fluently. like he took spanish in high school then fucked around in central/south america and can flawlessly swap between accents and slang terms and all that jazz. bonus points for buck speaking faster than a fucking puerto rican just bc it would give eddie and spenser a headache

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[send-noodles-not-nudes]

#160—Tactical Decision | Wesley Evers

Pairing: Wesley Evers/Solestia Zloft

Warnings: dubcon kiss (DO NOT smooch people without their consent!), yearning, boner joke bc im THAT kind of asexual, Tim and Angela fix these dumbasses challenge level impossible.

Word count: 555 Times word count has successfully been ≤300: 113

For the June Jukebox Scribbles challenge hosted by @societynsoelsscribbles | June 29: Alt lyric—It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?

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gif is not mine !! all credit to @/joeythephatone 🙏🙏

It started off as a tactical decision.

Solestia was hiding from her best friend. Angela was ruthless when it came to getting the information she wanted, and Sol had sworn to keep something a secret for Tim, which was proving to be incredibly difficult. She panicked when she saw Angela coming down the hallway she was in, doing her best to think fast and find any way to keep herself from being seen. She'd avoided Angela for this long, so far; surely, she could manage another hour before it was time to clock out, right?

So, using the resources she had at hand and thinking fast to find the easiest way out, she'd grabbed Wesley while he was walking the other direction and pulled him, hard, into a kiss tactically designed to be as repelling to everyone else's eyes as possible—which meant hot and heavy and hungry.

Wesley had realized he had feelings for her months ago.

Wesley had been dreaming about kissing her like this for weeks.

Wesley had flown so far beyond cloud nine by the time Solestia finally pulled away, both of them out of breath.

All he could do was stare for a moment. He was so in love with her that it was painful, but he tried his best not to let that show in case this wasn't going where he hoped it would. "What… What in the world was that all about?" he asked, chest heaving, a dorky smile on his lips. Solestia, on the other hand, looked guilt-ridden and embarrassed.

"Cover. I needed to hide from Angela, and PDA makes people uncomfortable, so they look away," she explained, as though she hadn't just completely rocked his world. He was surprised the sound of his heart shattering wasn't audible. For a second, all he could do was stand there in shock with his mouth slightly open, nodding like an idiot.

"Right," he nodded, biting his cheek. "Right, that makes… total sense."

"I'm so sorry, Wesley," she said, earnest in a way that broke his heart a second time. As if she would ever have to apologize for kissing him… if only she knew. "I didn't mean to put you off, I just needed something quick, and I panicked, and you were… convenient."

"Yeah, it's-it's fine," he assured, waving his hand dismissively. "No hard feelings, I get it."

Except there were hard feelings.

Specifically, hard feelings in his pants.

He needed to leave before she noticed said hard feelings.

He was quick to excuse himself, leaving Solestia to deal with the feelings a single kiss had brought up unexpectedly. It was just supposed to be cover… so why did it feel like fireworks and make her head spin and give her a stomach full of butterflies? A hand subconsciously flew up to her lips, pressing against them like it would bring the feeling of him back, her breath still not fully recovered from what she'd done.

"Did I just see what I think I saw?" Tim asked, snapping her out of her thoughts. Her eyes snapped up to his like a deer in the headlights, confirming his suspicions that it had been far more than a kiss.

"Shut up," she spat, face flushing bright red.

It started out with just a kiss, so how had it ended like this?

"it was a tactical decision" "you were convenient" phrases tim and angela will mock sol with forever bc that "convenient, tactical choice" ended in marriage and kids

110% one of their kids asks auntie angela or uncle tim how mommy and daddy met and they just go "iT wAs A tAcTiCaL dEciSiON"

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[send-noodles-not-nudes]

#159—Secrets | Shawn Spencer

Pairings: Carlton Lassiter/Spenser Spencer, Shawn Spencer & Spenser Spencer

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating/affairs/divorces, anxiety, panic attack described (not in a lot of detail but it's def still there), Shawn being an overprotective little brother.

Word count: 264 who am i how did i get here Times word count has successfully been ≤300: 113

For the June Jukebox Scribbles challenge hosted by @societynsoelsscribbles | June 29: Song—Mr. Brightside by The Killers.

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After Shawn told her the news, Spenser's ears started to ring.

Now, she understood why he hated that she was dating Lassiter so much.

It wasn't just about them being enemies.

Shawn was trying to protect her.

Lassiter had a record. The first time they'd met, Shawn had deduced that he was having an affair with his partner, the end result of which had been her getting transferred to a different station and Juliet taking her place as his new partner instead.

Spenser had a record. Her first husband had decided it was too hard to live in a touchless marriage, and he'd cheated on Spenser for years while she was going through hell on deployment with the Army.

He was just being a good brother. Maybe it came easier because he didn't like Lassiter, but that had never been his primary reason for pooh-poohing their relationship.

This couldn't be happening. Not again.

Her head started to spin. Her chest constricted. Her knees gave out and she was just glad there was a chair to fall back into. "Is he-" she asked breathlessly, looking up at her brother with tears clouding her eyes.

"No. Not right now, not since he's been with you," Shawn confirmed, relieving at least some of her anxiety. He wished it could've been more. "I needed you to know, though, regardless of however he'll defend it when you talk to him about it. It was still an affair. He was still married. And you still needed to know. I'm just sorry it had to be this late into the relationship."

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[send-noodles-not-nudes]

#158—Tu Me Manques | Sam Winchester

for those unaware, tu me manques literally translates to "you are missing from me" in parisian french which is technically the wrong french for my canadian oc but shhh just let me have this one Pairings: Dean Winchester/Alicia Cooper, Sam Winchester & Alicia Cooper

Warnings: angst but the sad kind, yearning, Sam lost another mother (big sister, whatever) figure, breakups, just fuckin depressing man.

Word count: 699 Times word count has successfully been ≤300: 112

For the June Jukebox Scribbles challenge hosted by @societynsoelsscribbles | June 29: Chosen lyric—But it's just the price I pay.

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Sam had been going insane over the past month or so, trying to get his brother and his friend back together. Dean had found out Alice—the love of his life—was a vampire, and he'd refused to see her again with the promise of ganking her if she tried talking to him or Sam again. Sam could see how much it hurt both of them. Hell, it hurt him, too, and he wasn't even the one dating her!

He showed up on Alice's doorstep one morning while she was prepping to open the bakery, picked the lock when she saw him but refused to open the door for him. It probably wasn't the smartest idea, seeing as he now knew she was stronger and faster than him and he'd come in unarmed, but he wanted her to know he wasn't there to hurt her. He didn't care what she was; Dean's bigotry was one thing that certainly hadn't rubbed off on him.

"What do you want?" she asked, not looking up from the donuts she was icing.

"I want you to talk to Dean." It was a simple request, but one they both knew she couldn't do much about. No, for that, Dean would have to actually listen.

"We both know that one's not up to me, Sam," she frowned. "Try again."

"He's being an idiot, Al. It's not right."

"But it's just the price I pay," she argued. "I knew he was a hunter the first time he walked in that door, and I got close to him anyway. I didn't tell him what I was. I'm lucky he didn't kill me. I'm a monster, and he hunts monsters. It's simple math. I knew better than to think I could change that." Alice couldn't look up from her work, knowing it would be too hard to keep her composure if she saw Sam and his hurt puppy eyes.

Seeing how heartbroken she was, watching her blame it on herself, part of Sam honestly wanted to kill his brother.

"You're not a monster," he insisted, grabbing her hands to stop her from working so she would look at him. "Please, help me talk to him. I'll mediate, but I need your help to make him take his head out of his ass, and I need both of you at the table if we're gonna fix this. I hate seeing you hurt. You and Dean."

Heavy silence hung in the air while she stared at him for a moment. Finally, she broke away from his hold, reaching under the glass counter to grab his favorite, a cheese danish, bag it, and slide the bag toward him. "Get out of here, Sam," she said sternly. "I don't want Dean seeing you around here and thinking I did something to you for… revenge, or whatever he thinks I would do since I'm apparently evil now, and I won't get in the way of your relationship. You two need each other. More than I do. I'll be fine on my own." After all, it wasn't like this was the first time Dean had left her on her own, wasn't it?

He couldn't change her mind, and she'd made that clear, regardless of how much it hurt her. He'd have to work on Dean first, and he was terrified that wouldn't be enough. "…give Harper a hug for me, okay?" he asked sadly, walking toward the door. "Tell him it's from Dean." Alice's eyes welled with tears and her voice cracked when she spoke.

"Go on. If you come back, I'll get you trespassed. You know that the sheriff lives next door, and I've got his cell number." Sam looked as heartbroken as she sounded.

"I'll see you around, Coop," he mumbled, making his way back to his car. As soon as he was out of the bakery, Alice relocked the door, turned her back against the wall, and slid down it, using the back of her hand to muffle the sobs that left. She didn't want to wake Harper if he heard her crying. This was hard enough on him, already, having lost the closest thing he'd ever had to a father.

a/n: ok but why do i feel like sam and harper have been texting each other the entire time and plotting to stage an intervention to get alice and dean back together? like harper hears alice crying and immediately texts sam "dude i thought you said this was gonna work, did you hit her with the puppy eyes? i thought the puppy eyes were her weakness!" (its mine theyre definitely MY weakness)

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[send-noodles-not-nudes]

#157—Jealous | Loki Odinson

Pairing: Loki Odinson/Melody Stone, mentions of her other partners in the polycule (Karen Page, Foggy Nelson, Peter Quill, Gamora, Wanda Maximoff, and an OC named Mason Riley)

Warnings: jealousy (read the title lol), adjusting to life in a polycule, adjusting to love in general, idk why he didn't go with her on the trip but shh he had to work or smthn 🤷 dont think about it tiny psa but jealousy is a normal and valid emotion in a relationship, and you should always talk to the other person/s (whether its romantic, platonic, or another kind of relationship) to address the problem

Word count: 300 Times word count has successfully been ≤300: 112

For the June Jukebox Scribbles challenge hosted by @societynsoelsscribbles | June 29: Alt lyric—Now they're going to bed and my stomach is sick and it's all in my head.

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Loki was surprised how jealous he got when Mel went to visit family.

He was new to this whole "relationship" thing. He knew that Mel had other partners. He was okay with that. He'd even met some of them before, and he liked them! So why the hell was he jealous?

According to what he read in his research, it was a normal feeling. Unfortunately, that didn't stop the visions going through his head of her throughout the day.

Morning. Cooking in a bustling kitchen full of her lovers and kids, Wanda flipping pancakes, Mason giving her a kiss on the cheek.

Afternoon. Running training drills with the family, pinning Quill against the wall when they sparred, holding Gamora to correct her form as Mel taught them martial arts from her home planet.

Evening. Foggy and Karen coming home, unwinding after dinner with a cup of tea and a cuddle pile while Foggy rubbed her feet and Karen braided her hair.

Night. A whole day, and Loki hadn't been part of it at all. Did she even think of him at all? Did she miss him, when she had other partners to fill her every need?

He could see in his mind's eye so clearly how things would end, and his stomach churned. He spun and spun on it until it was entirely unbearable, and he found himself starting a video call with her before his brain could catch up with his hands.

She answered before the first ring.

"Hey, baby!" she smiled. Gamora and Quill waved from beside her in bed. "I'm so glad you called; I was gonna go to bed after this last chapter, and I was worried I wouldn't get to hear your voice. How are you? I miss you."

I miss you.

His worry evaporated.

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[send-noodles-not-nudes]

#156—Stupid For You | Evan "Buck" Buckley

Pairing: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Spenser Diaz

Warnings: Yearning, Buck is a SIMP because I like my men pathetic and bisexual.

Word count: 463 Times word count has successfully been ≤300: 111

For the June Jukebox Scribbles challenge hosted by @societynsoelsscribbles | June 29: Alt lyric—But I just can't look, it's killing me.

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Buck couldn't bear to look at Spenser, and it was starting to kill him.

Eddie had made his feelings on Buck's feelings for Spenser pretty clear: he didn't want the two of them getting wrapped up in each other, and Buck wanted to respect that. Eddie was his best-friend-turned-boyfriend-turned-best-friend, and he wanted to respect his wishes. Unfortunately, every time he looked at Spenser, he was tempted to break that promise.

Eddie's feelings made it harder for Buck to look at Spenser, and not looking at Spenser just made her that much more beautiful when she did catch his eye.

Man, she was gorgeous.

Fucking Diaz siblings and their unparalleled hotness.

She was going to be the death of him.

It was funny, how avoiding eye contact with someone made you realize just how much you looked at that person. Spenser was his friend, and it's not like Buck would avoid all contact with her because of his feelings.

Had they always talked this much, or was she singling him out because she knew he wasn't looking at her?

It reached a peak one day when Spenser decided to call him out for it. She got him alone, chatting in one of the dorms and cornering him about his avoiding eye contact. "I know what you're doing," she informed him, "and I want it to stop." His brows furrowed at that, eyes finally coming up to meet hers.

"What about Eddie?" he asked. He'd only gotten into the whole situation because he was trying to respect the man.

"Fuck Eddie!" Spenser scoffed.

"No, we don't do that anymore," Buck mumbled. Spenser's face wrinkled in distaste.

"I didn't need to hear that." Buck winced.

"Sorry. I get kinda stupid around you. I don't know why I said that." Spenser let out a laugh, his favorite noise, and he couldn't help but smile with her.

"No, stupid is letting him intimidate and bully you," she corrected, holding his face. "I want you. Don't you want me, too?"

Spenser could barely hold in another laugh at the near-pornographic moan that left Buck's lips, despite her barely even touching him. "God, yes," he breathed, hands finding her waist and gripping for purchase like he was afraid she would float away without his anchor. "You have no idea."

"Then how about you show me?" she smiled. "Dinner, Saturday at 7?"

He'd been just about to answer when someone shook him awake from his dream. Spenser had heard his moan from one of the other bunks while they were both trying to catch a bit of shut-eye, and she'd come to check on him. "Buck? You okay?" she asked quietly, caramel eyes swimming with concern.

She had no idea she was killing him with every glance she sent his way.

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[send-noodles-not-nudes]

#155—The Mistake | Aaron Thorsen

Pairing: Aaron Thorsen/Benjerman Harper

Warnings: LOTS of internalized homophobia, mentions of partying/getting drunk, angst, no comfort.

Word count: 300 Times word count has successfully been ≤300: 111

For the June Jukebox Scribbles challenge hosted by @societynsoelsscribbles | June 29: Alt lyric—It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss!

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gif is not mine !! all credit to @/chenfordsource 🙏🙏

It was an accident.

Aaron liked to party, perhaps a little too hard.

He'd gotten drunk. It lowered his inhibitions, made him do things sober Aaron never would've done.

In this case, it made him finally kiss the paramedic he'd been crushing on for a while, now.

The male paramedic he'd been crushing on.

The worst part of it all?

Benjerman had kissed him back.

Aaron couldn't be queer. Not that there was anything wrong with gay people, but he couldn't be one. Prison taught him that. He already had enough problems, enough things for people to single him out for, that he couldn't afford to have another.

He could barely look Benjerman in the eye when they ended up at a scene together the next Monday. He wanted nothing more than to leave, but he couldn't find a good excuse to avoid it when Benjerman asked to talk before they parted ways. It was only a kiss, Aaron reminded himself. It didn't mean anything. That was his mantra.

Benjerman was straightforward. He could tell something was bothering Aaron, and he wanted to make sure that it wasn't him. "Aaron, if you're acting weird because of what happened… don't," he smiled. "I like you, too. I'd love to do it again, sometime, maybe after taking you out to dinner?"

The pressure was getting to Aaron, leading to him nearly shouting out what had become a mantra in his mind: "It was only a kiss!" he said harshly, chest tightening. This was on his body cam, now. What if everyone saw it? Heard what he'd done? Learned what he was? "I… I gotta go," he mumbled, pushing Benjerman's chest lightly as he walked away.

He barely heard Benjerman sadly utter "But it was a good kiss…" as he left the scene.

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[send-noodles-not-nudes]

There's something so funny to me about the fact that Dean, Alice, and Harper all have green eyes

Like Dean would be as in love with Alice's eyes as everyone is with his, and Harper has the same eyes, so you would think he'd love them too, right?

Except the first time they meet, this punk-ass six-year-old child is sizing Dean up stronger than anyone he's ever met, and it's the first time he realizes jade is not only a jewel, but sharp. He sees it as a perversion of Alice's beauty, for someone with Harper's attitude to have her eyes like that. He hates it.

It takes years for Harper to stop looking at him like that. He's a skeptic. He's been hurt before. He's slow to trust because he thinks Alice was too quick to fall, and someone has to keep a head on their shoulders to protect them and make sure they're ready when the shit hits the fan. Dean's a hunter, and not to be trusted. He's not safe, whether or not Alice wants to recognize it.

Over time, Dean finally whittles down his defenses, though, and Harper allows him to become the dad he never had. Even when Alice and Dean are finally married and Harper thinks it's obvious to the world that they belong to each other, people still confuse Sam for his dad because surely, someone like Dean wouldn't marry a girl like Alice, would he? Harper's favorite strangers become the ones who pay attention to eyes, who say he has his father's eyes, not his mother's, who link them together in ways so few do until they know better. It's one of Dean's favorite things in the world to hear, and he takes immense pride in being able to tell the world, That's my kid, even if it's not biological.

Something he hated became one of his favorite things in the world, and Harper had his father's eyes long before Dean and Alice had any kids of their own to pass it down to.

[send-noodles-not-nudes]

#154—To Know Me Is To Hate Me | Matt Murdock

yes i know its the wrong noah kahan song but i couldnt resist making the reference Pairing: Matt Murdock/Malcolm O'Dorcey

Warnings: I hesitate to say angst but I don't know what else to call it, self-doubt, vague mentions of Malcolm's criminal past.

Word count: 297 Times word count has successfully been ≤300: 110

For the June Jukebox Scribbles challenge hosted by @societynsoelsscribbles | June 28: Song—Northern Attitude by Noah Kahan (with Hozier). this is one of my favorites btw 😩😩 i need them to do an entire album together NOW

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Things with Matt were starting to move from 'friends with benefits' or 'a several-night stand' into actual relationship territory.

And it scared the living hell out of Malcolm.

He'd grown up isolated, spent so much of his life alone. Some part of him was convinced he didn't know how to have a relationship, not a normal one, not a meaningful one, not outside his mom and his sisters. Even his (sole) friendship was plagued with ups and downs to the point that he wasn't really sure why Mason had stayed by his side for so long.

He thought his heart was closed-off. He was cold, calculating, a criminal, a killer, even if it was justified. Matt was nothing like him. Matt deserved better. Matt didn't know about a lot of things Malcolm hid from him.

What if he wasn't good enough for Matt?

It wasn't a question he'd ever expected to ask. He'd never found someone that made him hope he wasn't wholly dead inside, never met someone he hoped could break through his shells and walls to love him. Matt wasn't even his yet, not really, but he was terrified to lose him.

He'd been spiraling about it for a while, now. Should he let Matt in? Was it wise to let someone like him break down his defenses? Would he be a disappointment? What if Matt didn't like what he found? Where was he supposed to go from here?

Fortunately, he didn't have to think on it for long. His phone pinged. It was Matt.

"Hey. I might be reading into this wrong, but do you wanna go out on a date?"

He had a choice: warm and fuzzy, or cold and dead.

God, was he ready for some heat.

"sure matty. that sounds nice"

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[send-noodles-not-nudes]

#153—What Do You Want? | Eddie Brock

Pairings: Eddie Brock/Juriana Rinji, hint of Veddie if you squint

Warnings: Juriana's kinda mean (it's apparently Eddie's type), lowkey existential crisis.

Word count: 299 Times word count has successfully been ≤300: 109

For the June Jukebox Scribbles challenge hosted by @societynsoelsscribbles | June 28: Alt lyric—Scared to live, scared to die.

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Finding out the truth about symbiotes had done a number on Eddie's head.

Because Venom could heal virtually any and all of his wounds, Eddie would live far longer than most humans did. Unfortunately, it would mean outliving people he loved. It was a dilemma he didn't know how to handle. Venom was his boyfriend, but was that enough if they had to live through losing everyone else? Should he separate himself from Venom, or was it better to let it play out however nature intended?

Already having had a decade to wrap her mind around the idea, Juriana didn't much care about it. She was working on finding ways to keep people alive for longer, anyway; that was her entire business, seeing as she ran the only good pharmaceutical company on the planet. That was how she'd gotten her own symbiote in the first place, actually.

Frankly, she was sick of having the same conversation with Eddie while he tried to process the information. He couldn't make up his mind, and the indecision was driving her up the wall. She stopped him mid-anxious-ramble, wanting him to deal with this for once and for all instead of going around in circles.

"Scared to live, scared to die, scared to make a move, scared to get left behind, so what the fuck do you want?" she snapped. "What do you actually want out of life? Just build off of that!" Eddie was a little taken aback by the outburst, silent for a moment before he found his answer.

"You. I want you." He'd wanted to say it for a long time, but hadn't found the bravery until now.

"Good. It's about fucking time you said that," she huffed, pulling him down by the shirt and crashing her lips onto his.

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[send-noodles-not-nudes]

#152—Got Your Six | Carlton Lassier

Pairing: Carlton Lassiter/Spenser Spencer

Warnings: mention of drugs/addiction (nongraphic), mention of firearms (nongraphic), anxiety.

Word count: 300 Times word count has successfully been ≤300: 108

For the June Jukebox Scribbles challenge hosted by @societynsoelsscribbles | June 28: Chosen lyric—If I get too close...

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There was a lot of trust involved in this undercover operation.

Spenser wasn't a cop, but she was the best suited for the job. Under any other circumstances, she would keep her firearm with her, but she knew the people she'd be dealing with tonight would pat her down. That meant she had to rely on someone other than herself to protect her, which wasn't something she'd ever done well.

She must have given Lassiter the same lecture a thousand times, leading up to the operation. While he was helping her set up the various bugs she'd be wearing—a GPS tracker in the sole of her shoe, a camera in fake glasses, a microphone in a button—she insisted they go over the plan again.

It wasn't the lying that made her nervous about undercover work. Hell, it wasn't even going in unarmed that fazed her; she knew she was a competent enough fighter to last the few seconds she'd need for the team to extract her. No, the thing that scared her was being found out. That, or being asked to sample the drugs the operation revolved around as a test of loyalty. As a recovering addict, that was scarier to her than even the treat of death.

"If I get too close—" she started, referring to either possibility.

"Take them out, I know," Lassiter reassured. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, holding her hand to offer what comfort he could. "I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, Spense. And if you don't wanna do this, we can pull the op; it's your call." Spenser shook her head.

"I want them off the street, and this is our best chance. As long as I know you have my back… I'm good. Let's do it."

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[send-noodles-not-nudes]

#151—History Repeats Itself | 40s!Steve Rogers

Pairing: 40s!Steve Rogers/Adelaide Stone

Warnings: angst, Steve is talked about but not present, hurt/no comfort.

Word count: 447 Times word count has successfully been ≤300: 107

For the June Jukebox Scribbles challenge hosted by @societynsoelsscribbles | June 28: Alt lyric—How are your kids? Where are they now?

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"Why the fuck are you paging me at three in the morning?"

It was a strong opener, sure, but Adelaide had never been one to mince words—especially not in this century. Fury didn't skip a beat, nor did he waste any time in explaining what he needed from her: "We need you to keep her occupied," he said, walking Adelaide over to wherever they needed her. It was eerily familiar; HYDRA had used it in the 40s for a brief period of time when she'd been captured and experimented on. It was intended to hold someone like her.

"What is this?" she asked, stopping just short of the room. "I know what that room is; who do you have in there?" Cornered, Fury didn't have a good way to explain things without being blunt.

"You," he said simply. "From 1944."

A shiver ran down her spine, sharper than any blade. 1944… the year before her world started going to hell.

"We need you to keep her busy while we figure out how to get her back to when she belongs," Fury carried on, steamrolling over it as if expecting her to have no reaction to it. "If she gets out and finds the truth behind what the world looks like now… Well, we know what you did when Steve died. We'd rather not have a repeat of that."

After being briefed in a little more detail, Adelaide headed in alone to face herself, breath trembling. Talk… All she had to do was talk until they could send her home. It can't be that hard, right?

Wrong.

After the initial shock wore off, 40s Adelaide naturally had a plethora of questions for her modern self. "How's Steve? Where are your kids, how are they now?" she asked excitedly, eyes glimmering. After all, they'd won the war, so shouldn't life have been peachy and perfect? Adelaide didn't have the heart to lie to her younger self, but she knew telling the truth would be catastrophic.

"Steve and I only had one kid," she corrected. True, without telling the whole story. She'd only found out she was knocked up after he'd gone into the ice. They never had a chance to have more. Hell, they didn't even get the chance to get married. "His name's Jamie. He's got his dad's eyes; they're the most… beautiful thing in the world."

"Why are you crying?"

Luckily, younger Adelaide didn't have time to learn the answer before getting sent back to the 40s.

Unluckily, older Adelaide didn't have time to tell her not to let Steve go on his final mission alone.

History would repeat itself. Steve would stay in the ice.

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