Cosimo Galluzzi
izzy's playlists!
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Sade Olutola
almost home
@theartofmadeline
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
h
trying on a metaphor
Peter Solarz
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shark vs the universe
PR's Tumblrdome
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todays bird
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Cosmic Funnies
ellievsbear
roma★
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seen from T1
seen from Malaysia
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seen from United States
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seen from Türkiye
seen from Poland
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia
seen from Argentina
seen from Germany
seen from Ireland
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from Netherlands
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seen from United States
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@unadulteratedfandomtrash
My Masterlists
Since my readers have been asking if I have a masterlist, here’s the answer: yes!
The links should be located at the top of my page, but to make it easier, I will post all of the links to each respective fandom here for easy access. If you have any questions, feel free to ask away!
Marvel
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방탄소년단
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進撃の巨人
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Miscellaneous Masterlist
Steve Rogers x Reader ~ Early Morning Showers [Shield Adventures]
A/N: Hi, guys. Sorry for the short fic this time around. I didn’t want to force myself to add more when I’m content with how everything is now. Stay tuned for more!
[My Marvel Masterlist]
Word Count: 1154
When Steve habitually woke up at 0600 on a Saturday morning, he was expecting to find (Y/n) nestled underneath the thick duvet, snoring away for another three hours before her alarm was set to go off. Yet, when the blond super soldier manages to peel open his bleary eyes, an arm reaching out beside him to hug his wife, he is met with a cold bed sheet and soft impression of her body pressed into the mattress.
“Not again…”
Steve comes to the conclusion that the chances of her having left to use the bathroom are slim, given that (Y/n)’s side of the bed would still be warm in that scenario, so he decides to roll out of bed to check the next possible location: the kitchen.
Sock-clad feet shuffle softly on the laminate floors as Steve makes his way to the kitchen in the search for his wife. He starts to lose hope in his assumption the further he walks down the hall. If she were rummaging around in the kitchen, he would be able to hear a huge commotion, or smell the food or coffee, before turning the corner.
“Maybe the balcony,” he mutters. (Y/n) loves to curl up with a blanket on the tufted lounge they purchased shortly after their marriage. She uses the time to gaze at the amazing view offered by the Avengers compound as she reflects on past events; there have been many instances in which the blond super soldier would be scrambling to find his wife, and during his frantic search, the woman in question was simply relaxing out in the balcony bundled up in a fuzzy blanket with a steaming mug of tea, staring off into the distance.
But when Steve turns to look at the balcony sliding door, he realizes it’s raining, so she would not be outside. A bit of panic rises in him once he realizes (Y/n) is not in her usual spots.
Running over to the room door that serves as their front door—Tony assigned each Avenger their own cottage-sized room—Steve scans the rack of shoes to check for any missing pairs. Sure enough, there is a missing pair of boots he distinctly remembers buying for her last year in celebration of their anniversary. (Y/n) had been eyeing those shoes every time they took a trip to the mall, so Steve snuck out to purchase them on one of his days off when she flew off for a solo mission.
The clattering of keys breaks Steve out of his trip down memory lane. Instead of waiting for the door to be unlocked, the blond super soldier opens it from his side. The door practically flies off the hinges as he flings it open, scaring both himself and (Y/n) as the impact of the doorknob leaves a small indentation in the drywall.
“Steve, be more gentle with that door! I don’t want Tony to make a fuss about you damaging the place when he’s letting us stay for free.”
“It’s fine, I’ll patch it up later on today,” Steve mutters, glancing at the dent for only a brief second before shifting his focus back on (Y/n). All the pent up anxiety floods out and bombards her as the man interrogates his wife. “Where have you been? I was looking all over the place for you. I nearly called Nat to wake her up just to ask if you went over to her room.”
During his frantic questioning, (Y/n) awkwardly glances at the heavy piece of metal to her right. She needed a free hand to open the door, so she ended up resting it on the wall by the door. If Steve finds out, he will throw a fit.
“I just needed to stop by the drug store really quick,” (Y/n) explains as she holds up the several bags of snacks in her arms.
“Did you buy everything they had in there? Here, let me help you.” Two hands immediately dart out to grab onto the heavy plastic bags, despite the fact that his wife is an Avenger with telekinesis and is perfectly capable of carrying her own shopping, while also gesturing for her to step inside. However, instead of walking in, (Y/n) keeps glancing to her side, which confuses Steve. “What? Did you buy even more stuff?”
“No, I…um-”
Before she can come up with an excuse, Steve is already stepping out to peer into the hallway. The sight should not surprise him, but it does. In the hallway, leaning against the wall, is his shield. It had not crossed his mind to look for the shield when he woke up to find (Y/n) was missing, again.
“(Y/n)!!”
Other than the fact that she had, once again, stolen his prized possession and weapon of choice, Steve is appalled to find the item in question being drenched in water. While he knows the metal will not rust—seventy years in the ice provides enough proof of that—he does not know why his wife needed to bring the shield along for an impromptu snack run.
“Why exactly did you take my shield with you at 6 in the morning?” Steve sends a pointed look in her direction as he sets the bags down to bring in the shield. A foot stretches out to kick the door shut while he inspects the shield for any damages. Thankfully, the only thing he has to worry about is water stains.
“It was raining outside, and I couldn’t find an umbrella,” she explains casually with a slight pout. “There’s just enough surface area to cover me and my bags of snacks.”
In the darkness, Steve has a hard time reading her facial expressions clearly, but he can tell that something is off. She is telling the truth, that much is obvious, but there is a hint of nervousness in her voice that is leaving him worried once more.
“Couldn’t the snacks have waited until later on? I would’ve gone with you.”
“Steve, I can handle a quick trip to the drug store.”
The finality in her voice leaves Steve hesitant to push the subject any further. Rather than risking the start of an argument. He knows (Y/n) will eventually bring up the subject later on in the future, so he raises his arms in defeat, choosing to busy himself with putting away the snacks from her recent shopping spree.
As he begins to store the bags of chips into the cabinet, the slamming of a door in the distance catches his attention. Steve briefly wonders if he should go check on (Y/n), but comes to the same conclusion as he did moments ago.
Meanwhile, inside the bathroom, (Y/n) opening the plastic bag she snuck inside. The four boxes scatter across the tiles as she tears into each one.
“Okay…let’s see if I’m right…”
Steve Rogers x Reader ~ April Fool’s Day [Shield Adventures]
A/N: I came up with this idea after April Fool’s Day, sadly, but I figured you guys won’t mind a belated fic! There will be more “Shield Adventures” stories to come in the future.
[My Marvel Masterlist]
Word Count: 1967
“Steve!!!”
Before the Quinjet’s ramp has a chance to lower all the way onto the landing pad, (Y/n) is running straight into the aircraft, making a beeline for her husband clad in red, white, and blue. The man in question has to brace himself and the young woman all but throws herself into his embrace.
“Hello to you too, (Y/n),” he chuckles softly. “As much as I’ve missed you, I am pretty sweaty right now. I wouldn’t exactly recommend hugging until I am out of the suit.”
(Y/n)’s head lifts away from the comfortable spot between the blond super soldier’s pectorals to flash a pout. She pulls away with hesitance, but Steve promises to make it up to her with cuddles on the couch, which immediately puts a smile on her face.
“Oh yeah,” (Y/n) suddenly exclaims, “Tony told me he needs your shield. He mentioned something about upgrades and polishing it.”
“”Right now? Can’t it wait until after I settle down and finish up my mission reports?”
“I can drop it off with him. I have to head over to his lab anyway. Tony’s been working on a new design for my uniform that’ll give me more maneuverability when I move my arms around. It’s pretty neat.”
While (Y/n) continues to ramble on about the new upgrades, Steve cannot help but zone out. Rather than focusing on the conversation, his attention is on (Y/n). Ever since the beginning of their relationship, Steve has admired her ability to grow excited over every little aspect of life. Something as simple as improved mobility in a tactical garment normally does not elicit too much excitement, but with (Y/n), it is as if Christmas came early.
“Steveee,” she whines, stomping her foot all the while. “Are you even listening to me?”
“Yes, yes. I heard you. You’re getting some awesome suit upgrades to let you flail around better on the field.”
His phrasing brings back her pout. With arms crossed in front of her chest, (Y/n) begins to explain in heavy detail about her telekinetic powers requiring calculated movements, not uncontrolled flailing.
“Don’t worry,” Sam butts with a smirk as he makes his way down the ramp. “Steve flails just as much whenever he uses the shield. You should’ve seen him today. His arms looked like those weird balloons at the car dealerships each time he threw that frisbee of his.”
The couple, scandalized by the former airman’s remark, send him a glare and threaten to assign the least-favorable task come the next mission.
“Anyway, I should get going.” Wrapping her arms around Steve, (Y/n) squeezes her husband once more in a tight embrace, only this time, her hands find their way to his shield as she pulls away from him. “I’ll see you tonight for those cuddles. Bye, Steve!!”
Steve finds himself shaking his head with amusement as he watches his beloved run off across the landing pad.
“Well…there’s no telling when I’m getting that back.”
“I got it!”
Grinning like the cat that got the cream, (Y/n) holds up the shield in triumph as she enters Tony’s lab. She nearly runs into DUM-E, but her quick reflexes, and the shield, save her just in time when the robot nearly hits her head with a fire extinguisher. Unfortunately, her safety comes at the cost of DUM-E’s mechanical arm, which is now bent and dented at a weird angle.
“I invite you to my lab, and here you are, breaking my stuff.”
“It’s fine! That’s what the shield is for,” she snickers, “And DUM-E has been broken since you made him. You have no one to blame but yourself for that one.”
“I’ll remember that the next time you come to me for a favor,” the man teases while holding up a large box. “Are you sure you wanna do this? Cap isn’t gonna be too happy in the morning.”
“He’ll be fine. You said the glue will come off with a bit of soap and water, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
Tony eyes her warily. Despite his excitement to prank Steve, he will suffer the consequences if the blond super soldier finds out who lended a helping hand with the prank. He knows for a fact that (Y/n) will be left off easy for simply being married to him. Tony, on the other hand, will not. He already had a shaky start at the relationship when they first met to save New York. While their relationship has been mended since then and he and Steve are both friends and coworkers, pranking him feels like a line that should never be crossed. Especially when it involves his shield. “You better not mention my name. Tony played no part in your shenanigans, you hear me?” “Yes, sir,” (Y/n) replies as her hand comes up in mock salute. “Now, hand over the gems and glitter.”
The sun has long since set beyond the horizon. Disregarding this, Steve elects to keep the lights off in the bedroom as he lays on top of the duvet, his eyes close to just rest as he waits for (Y/n) to return from whatever it is she has occupied herself with after having run off with his shield. Being a man of his word, Steve has stayed awake in order to fulfill his promise of cuddles, yet he has no clue where his wife could be. “Maybe I should call her,” he mutters to himself once he realizes midnight is nearly creeping up. Yet, right as he decides to turn to grab his phone from the nightstand, the familiar sound of the bedroom door creaking open has him freeze.
Despite being shrouded in partial darkness thanks to the cloudy night sky keeping the moonlight from shining through the windows, (Y/n) carefully sneaks across the master bedroom. She carefully tiptoes with her uniform in one hand and the leather shield bag in the other. There is a soft clunk as she sets down the bag in its designated corner by Steve’s nightstand; the super soldier has grown paranoid of potential break-ins or emergency missions, so he has gotten into the habit of keeping the weapon within arms reach.
“Ya’ know, if you were trying to be sneaky, you’d have to try harder.” Steve watches in amusement as his beloved jumps in the air like a spooked feline. A small chuckle escapes once he notices the sour look on her face.
“Steve, you scared me! Why aren’t you asleep?”
“Well, someone was feeling clingy earlier today, so I promised cuddles, remember?”
“Oh yeah!” Dropping the uniform to the floor in favor of physical affection, (Y/n) all but dives onto the bed, landing on top of her husband’s chest and successfully knocking the wind out of him. “Snuggle time!” Strong arms wrap around the smaller form sprawled across him. The cool spring breeze is nothing compared to the heat radiating from the super soldier’s body. The warmth has (Y/n) sighing in comfort, nuzzling her head against Steve’s pectorals with a hum of delight. “So, what kind of changes did Tony make?” “I dunno. Wasn’t paying attention.” “You weren’t paying attention to your partner in mischief?” “No,” she argues, “Sam is my partner in mischief. Tony just provides the money to fuel the chaos if he approves of it.”
“I knew you had looped Tony into your shenanigans.” “Shhh. It’s late. Go to bed, old man.” “You’re married to this old man,” Steve teases, pressing soft kisses along her neck.
“Yup. And grandpas like you need sleep,” (Y/n) states with finality, leaving the blond super soldier to chuckle even more when he peers down to see her eyes fluttering shut with exhaustion. “Good night.”
“Good night, (Y/n).”
“(Y/n)!!!” The woman in question freezes at the sound of her name being yelled from the other side of the compound. She woke up early to evade Steve, and to solidify her reason for disappearing, the young woman dragged Bucky and Sam to accompany her in an extensive training session.
“Ooooh, he sounds mad,” Sam remarks with a smirk. “What’d you do this time?”
“This time? Are you accusing me of always torturing my poor husband?” “Well,” Bucky joins in, “your ‘poor husband’ always uses that voice when he’s upset. I would know. He’s been doing that since the 40’s.”
Rather than answering, (Y/n) chooses to drag the two men in front of her to hide behind them right as the double doors slam open. The two veterans in the gym are unable to contain their laughter once they realize the reason for the blond super soldier’s anger. In his hands is a shield covered with red, white, and blue glitter with rhinestones covering the star in the center.
“Goin’ to a party or something, Cap?” Sam manages to wheeze out between choked breaths. “Star spangled man with a plan? More like a sparkly spangled man with a plan!”
Steve sends Sam an unamused glare. He does not need to look hard to find his wife, given that Sam is hunched over in an attempt to catch his breath from laughing too hard. Words are not needed as he glances back and forth between the bedazzled shield and (Y/n). “Hi, Steve.” “Are you going to explain yourself, (Y/n)?”
“Happy April Fool’s Day?”
Without speaking, Steve gestures for (Y/n) to make her way to his side. But instead of listening to his silent request, she chooses to simply peek out from behind Bucky’s metal arm. Her eyes stay trained on her husband, waiting for any sudden movements so that she can panic react accordingly.
“It was just a fun little prank, Steve. No need to get upset.” “Upset? (Y/n), my shield is covered in glitter and jewels. How am I supposed to get them all off in time for the next mission?” “But Tony said the gl-” A hand slaps itself over her mouth as soon as the woman realizes her mistake. Unfortunately for her, it is too late to take back what she had said. Steve heard her loud and clear; the blond super soldier sets down his newly-bedazzled shield by the entrance in favor of using both arms to cross them over his chest. Authority oozes from his stance as he raises an eyebrow, waiting for (Y/n) to speak up. “Tony said what exactly?” (Y/n) mumbles the answer meekly, but the only person who can hear her is the two men acting as human shields, and being the cheeky person he is, Bucky shoves her towards his best friend. A gasp can be heard at the sudden betrayal. “I’m not actually mad,” Steve admits softly when he realizes (Y/n) is actually worried. “I know you were just having a bit of fun. I know you well enough to know that if you were the mastermind behind a prank, there won’t be any permanent damage.” “Tony promised that the glue he bought should wash right off with soap, water, and a bit of scrubbing.” With a quick kiss pressed to (Y/n)’s forehead, Steve picks up his shield and turns around to leave.
“Thank you. But don’t think I’m gonna let you get away with this without some form of punishment. The next mission we have, you’re benched.” “What??” “Love you, sweetheart!” Steve exits the room just as quickly as he had initially entered it, stomping away with purpose as he enters the elevator and instructs FRIDAY to lead him to a certain genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist; as (Y/n), Bucky, and Sam resume their training, they choose to ignore the distant shouting from the floor above.
The End
A personal, individual art style? What is that? Never heard of her. 🤡🤡🤡
Thor Odinson x Reader ~ Shopping Lists
A/N: A cute plot idea provided by my lovely friend @drstrangefictions! I hope you guys enjoy. (Please note that this is supposed to take place roughly right after the first Avengers film in 2012.) I know I have been incredibly slow and inactive, and I apologize for that. A mix of writer’s block and a busy life are to blame. I will try to be more consistent, but I do not want to make any promises. Thank you to those of you who stick around and support my writing in spite of this.
Word Count: 2534
“Hi, welcome to Big Tony’s Supermarket, where prices are so cheap, it should be illegal.”
The day seems to pass too slowly for (Y/n) as she half-heartedly greets every customer who walks into the store and past her spot at the register. She cannot wait to finally leave her retail position behind to pursue her dream of becoming a chef, but unfortunately, she needs this current job until she can achieve her degree and experience before quitting—college is not cheap; while the job is nowhere near desirable, (Y/n) cannot bring herself to complain since her boss pays her quite well. The customers, however, often leave her very wary and uncomfortable. She often chalks it up to the shady neighborhood, but there is nothing she can do about it until the day she can afford to leave town.
One day, she tells herself, she will be able to afford to be jobless for a short period of time as she searches for a reputable restaurant willing to hire her as a chef. There is no way (Y/n) will ever settle for employment in the fast food industry. She has big dreams and refuses to ever go near cheap, greasy food with questionable ingredients. Creating dishes with real food is an art, and (Y/n) will not settle for anything less.
“Hi welcome to Bi-” In the middle of greeting another patron, (Y/n) finds herself tongue-tied and star-struck. The man who passes through the threshold of the automatic doors is nothing like any of her usual customers. Long blond hair whips around as he turns his head to scan the store, his striking blue eyes lighting up with delight once he notices her.
“Are you the keeper of this market?”
“Y-You’re Thor…” (Y/n) utters out in amazement. She never thought she would ever live the day to see a god standing before her, let alone speak to her. “And, umm…I just work here.”
“Then you are the perfect person to assist me,” Thor exclaims with a smile. “My teammates have requested that I purchase something for them. Could you help me, grocer?”
“S-sure thing! What do you need to purchase?”
“I do not recall.” A frown tugs at Thor’s lips as he struggles to recall what the Avengers had told him. He faintly remembers them shouting various things as they passed around a pencil and long sheet of paper. They handed him the paper and shooed him off before he could ask. “I believe they called it a ‘grocery list.’”
It takes every fiber of (Y/n) being to not laugh at the blond god. She realizes that Thor has probably not been on Earth long enough to understand the ways of life for humans, but she cannot help but find humor in his confusion.
“No, no,” she giggles softly. “A grocery list is what we use to write down the stuff we need to buy. Did they give you a piece of paper?”
“Ah, yes!Here it is.” Thor, who is dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, reaches into his pocket to fish out a crumpled ball of paper to hand to (Y/n). “Please decipher this page, grocer.”
Scanning the Avengers’ handwriting, (Y/n) tries her best to make sense of the list. A few items are incomprehensible, but given that she can read a majority of the list, she disregards the minor issue. She grabs a pen from the cubby below the register while beckoning Thor to follow her as she switches off her station’s green light. The god obediently trails with a spring in his step.
“Well, the first item on here is goat’s milk,” (Y/n) informs him, a pen pointing out the messy scribbles at the top of the paper. “For any dairy products, all you have to do is look for the number thirteen.”
A week has passed since a visit from Thor and (Y/n) cannot keep her mind off of him. She tries to convince herself that she is merely infatuated by the idea of having been in the presence of a god, but a small part of her wonders if there is much more. Something about his innocence, his obliviousness, of human customs and ways of life—it attracts her like a moth to a flame.
Warmth suddenly floods (Y/n)’s cheeks, leaving her to pat them in an attempt to dispel the redness. Common sense tells her to disregard the butterflies in her chest; she had only met Thor for two hours that day, so it would be unreasonable to think of him as anything other than another customer.
The sliding of the automatic doors signals the entrance of a customer, so (Y/n) turns to greet them, only to see the one person, the god, who has been occupying her thoughts. Just like the week before, (Y/n)’s words are caught in her throat.
“Grocer! We meet again!”
“Oh,” she gasps, his exclamation having startled her out of her dazed state. “Hi, Thor. How are you today?”
“I am doing well. My team has tasked me with the weekly purchasing of their sustenance.” Thor hands over his list once again, a sheepish smile gracing his features as (Y/n) accepts the sheet with an open palm. “Stark has asked that I bring him a ‘can of sprayable cheese,’ but I am afraid I do not understand why or how curds of milk can be stored or dispensed in such a way.”
“Don’t worry. It’s not too difficult to find, though explaining it is much more complicated.”
“Very well. Please lead the way.”
“Thor! Back so soon? I hope the list wasn’t too difficult for you,” Tony greets with an impish smile as the large god steps out of the tower’s elevator with multiple bags in hand.
“My journey to the indoor market was absolutely delightful. I was able to retrieve all that you asked without fail. The kind grocer has been aiding my search every time.”
“Wait, wait, wait. What grocer? I sent you to the supermarket, not a farmers market or wet market.”
Thor immediately deposits the bags of groceries on the counter top and goes into detail about the kindness of the female market employee who has been taking it upon herself to personally guide the thunder god throughout the store to pick out the items documented on his shopping list while also providing explanations for any particular items he was unfamiliar with.
“I shall gladly retrieve your weekly necessities without fail, Stark. I am graced with the grocer’s hospitality and beauty each visit. There is nothing she cannot find.”
“Oh really, huh? Nothing she can’t find…”
Once again, thoughts of the thunder god have invaded (Y/n)’s mind as she wanders into the back storage room of the store. This time, her mind begins to wonder what life would be like with Thor. She dreams of herself going on dates with him, sitting in a park with a basket of food, chatting the day away with her head resting on one of his broad shoulders.
The sudden clanging of a can hitting the tiled flooring brings (Y/n) back to the real world. She absentmindedly reaches for the fallen object, but when her hand fails to feel for the round can, she comes in contact with another hand.
Jerking her head up to chastise whoever was about to steal her runaway can she has yet to label with a price sticker when she is met with a friendly pair of blue eyes she has been acquainting herself with as of late.
“Good afternoon,” Thor greets cheerfully as he stands to his full height with the can in his grasp, forcing (Y/n) to rise as well. “I figured I could help you since you have that large box to carry as well. I did not mean to startle you.”
Rather than freezing up, this time, (Y/n) musters up the courage to take the can from Thor to return it to the box, picking it up as she walks the product over to its designated aisle with the thunder god trailing after her.
“How have you been, Thor? Anything exciting happen this week? Not everyone lives in a building with a handful of friends who are also superheroes,” (Y/n) comments without so much as a glance at Thor, too focused on her job of restocking the canned goods. While it doesn’t take very long, she wants to do her best to stay on her boss’ good side.
“Ah, yes. Barton and Stark were ecstatic to receive the haul of requested items. In fact, they were so excited for my trip this week that their laughter was like thunder as I walked away with their list.”
“Really? Well, I am done here, so may I see what you’re here for today?”
At first glance, the shopping list seems normal enough. The team of heroes wrote down grocery items such as vegetables, meats, milk, protein powder, fruits, and so forth—the standard, healthy muscle-building stuff. Yet, as (Y/n) reads further down the list, she suddenly understands the reason for the boisterous laughter Thor had described moments ago.
“What’s this last one, Thor? I can’t really read it.” “Oh! Barton had asked for the particles that fall off of pixies during flight.”
“Pixie dust?” (Y/n)’s eyebrows shoot up her forehead at the description Thor provides her, thus confirming a suspicion she did not want proven to be true. There is no way these human heroes are asking for a substance that is a byproduct of a supernatural creature’s flight activities. Surely this god is just pulling her leg. “Why wo-” “Yes! That is exactly what he asked of me.” Guess he is being serious. While she does not understand why the Avengers are sending Thor on a wild goose chase for magical pixie dust, (Y/n) is more than willing to play along if it means spending more time with him. “Right here at aisle eight.” Walking down to the row filled with shelves of confectioneries and snacks, (Y/n) leads Thor over to several boxes filled with colorful paper tubes. “Here you go: Pixy Stix. It doesn’t exactly come from pixies, but-”
“Perfect! Thank you, grocer.”
For well over a month, (Y/n) has been receiving regular visits from Thor, who seeks her out for assistance with his teammates’ outrageous shopping list requests. Taking advantage of the fact that the thunder god is still learning the English language, the young woman opts to substitute some of the mythical items on the paper with obscure items—usually foods native to an obscure region in the world to keep the Avengers on their toes.
Now, as the register beeps continuously as she continuously passes items through the scanner, the nearby cart nearly filled to the brim, she takes a brief second to wonder how the blond thunder god is able to afford all the groceries; her eyes eventually find the black credit card with Tony Stark’s name on the bottom, reminding her of the true reason for his regular visits. She tells herself to get over the juvenile feelings she has been developing for someone who clearly has no interest in her.
Thor is just being polite.
Nothing more, nothing less.
She enjoys helping him, but her heart cannot help but yearn for more. It yearns to see the thunder god every day, to be able to openly express its feelings for him without the worry of rejection. For now, all she can do is placate her hunger for love by pushing aside her thoughts to focus on the task at hand: ringing up Thor’s purchases.
“So, I got most of the items on that list for you,” (Y/n) explains with a small smile, “but I’m afraid some of those things are just not available.”
“I do not understand.” Thor’s face drops as an expression of concern overtakes his smile. “Is it an essential item?”
“No, no, no.” Quick to reassure him, the woman waves her hand in objection while trying to contain the giggle bubbling up her throat. “Well, I mean, unless if you’re something along the lines of a stereotyped witch from popular culture, I doubt you’ll be able to find any yeti hair, griffin claws, or wendigo antlers. Those items are either mythical or fictional. I don’t want to pry, but I think the Avengers are pranking you.”
The look of disbelief and shock on Thor’s face is enough to make (Y/n)’s heart hurt for him. For a moment, she could visibly see the thoughts coursing through his mind.
The god did not deserve this.
“Why would they do that?”
She does not have an answer to that. If she had to guess, the newly formed team of heroes have chosen to haze their extraterrestrial teammate. While their long-standing prank seems pretty harmless, (Y/n) still worries. Thor seems to wear his heart on his sleeve, and put his full trust in his teammates. He must have taken the prank too seriously and felt hurt from being sent on a wild goose chase.
“It’s okay, though! It’s just a harmless joke. I’m honestly glad you come in every day. Getting to talk with you really makes me happy.”
A small smile creeps up on the god’s face upon hearing this. He enjoys spending time with (Y/n) too. So much so that the thought of it coming to an end saddens him.
“I do not wish to end our small discussions. Should you allow me to, I would love to escort you to a restaurant tonight for dinner.”
“Are you asking me out on a date, Thor,” (Y/n) asks shyly, a growing blush spreading across her warm cheeks.
“I am.”
Nodding happily with a bright smile, she accepts his proposition. A quick glance at the clock on the wall tells her she still has two hours before the end of her shift, so she relays this information to the blond god.
With a promise from Thor to return after dropping off the groceries at the tower, (Y/n) pushes through the remainder of her shift with a newfound source of energy.
“So, how do you plan on paying for dinner tonight? I doubt you have a job here on Earth that’ll help cover the fees.” The air is chilly as the winds pick up around the young woman and her date. Much to her surprise, Thor had chosen to go to a high end restaurant not too far from her workplace; the price for just one appetizer alone costs more than her hourly salary, which leaves her wary. She is not petty enough to leave the bill all up to the god of thunder, but she simply cannot afford to pay for a full meal.
Glancing over her shoulder, (Y/n) is met with a cheeky smile and wink as Thor reaches into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small black card she has come to recognize.
“I decided that Tony Stark should at least treat us to this meal. Let us consider this as his reparation.”
I’m watching Ms. Marvel, and I noticed that in Kamala’s YouTube video Sam Wilson replaces Steve Rogers as Captain America part way through. I don’t know what it is, but seeing that really just makes me so happy🥹
Sam Wilson x Reader ~ Safe & Sound [Pt.3]
A/N: Hi, guys. I am sorry I took so long to post this final chapter. I had to put a halt to everything in order to focus on some personal matters. I still need time, but I hope to be able to post more consistently in the future. Please enjoy this final part to my Sam Wilson mini-series. Thank you to everyone who has been supporting this account and my writing! I love you all. [Pt. 1] [Pt.2] [My Marvel Masterlist] Word Count: 1979
– Previously –
“Tony!” Sam immediately shouts for the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. His nerves feel as if there is molten lava coursing through them. He cannot keep still. “I just got a confirmed location and visual on them.”
“Perfect,” the man in question lands right beside Sam as he replies. “Give me and Rhodey access to that camera feed so we can get to work right away.”
“On it.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, the camera feed is shared with the two men in the suits. Tony works on leading his army of AI-controlled suits with James manually shifting aside the smaller pieces of concrete as Sam notifies Scott of their initiation
– Now –
Dust and dirt billows into the air as the Avengers all work together to remove the smaller blocks of concrete and metal to get to the center where their fellow teammates are trapped within. Beads of sweat run down their foreheads as the harsh sun shines brightly in the sky. The mixture of sweat and all those particles leads to a sticky layer of grime clinging to the heroes’ skin.
Despite the exhausting labor, all of the Avengers, especially Sam, refuses to stop. The worse case scenario keeps running through his mind, leaving him even more panicked than before. He knows better than to escalate the situation by being careless, referencing the techniques he learned and taught to the veterans he worked with back when he worked at the verteran’s affairs office, but there is only so much he can do. He is only human, and humans have their limits—(Y/n) being injured is his limit.
A loud chirping beep startles the former airman out of his spiraling anxieties. Looking over to his right, Sam notices that the beeping from his drone is much louder than it was ten minutes ago, prompting him to look down at the gauntlet on his arm; the screen displays the three subjects being tracked: Red Wing, (Y/n), and himself. All three dots are clustered very close to one another.
Surveying the area, Sam notices some precariously balanced concrete slabs blocking the path closest to his injured girlfriend. He grits his teeth in frustration while shouting to gain the attention of his teammates.
“Guys, I just found the fastest route to reach (Y/n), but the debris here is very unstable. I don’t think we should proceed, bu-”
“We’re gonna have to proceed,” Tony interjects. “With the utmost caution, of course, but time’s running out. We’re losing sunlight.”
“But how are we gonna get to her without dropping the remaining chunks of the building on top of her, Stark? That’s not a risk I am willing to take,” Sam rebuts angrily. He understands why Tony is insisting this, but the fear of losing (Y/n) trumps and rationale.
“We’re going to do this together,” Steve announces from behind, stepping up to place a comforting hand on Sam’s shoulder. “This will put our teamwork skills to the test, but given all the training and this given situation, I am confident we’ll all succeed in this rescue mission.”
Taking a deep breath in, Sam steels himself for the upcoming events that will soon take place. “Okay, let’s do this.”
“Easy, easy! Don’t pull yet, Rhodey!”
“Steady, Wanda!”
Tensions rise as each member of the team puts in all of their effort to pull away the debris at the same time to prevent any collapses. Wanda has a few of the larger chunks waiting in her glowy-red grasp, waiting to be levitated into the air as Tony and Rhodes get ready to work together to pull their own concrete boulders with the help of some heavy duty cables scavenged from the aircraft’s storage compartment and Bruce adjusts his hold on a block from the base of the pile as the Hulk. From above, Natasha is sitting in the pilot’s seat of the Quinjet, ready to swoop down to transport (Y/n) over to Helen for medical treatment; Steve and Clint are the ones in charge of running in to grab her as soon as the debris is lifted away.
Sam, on the other hand, is in charge of instructing everyone how and when to move their respective pieces, and to be honest, he hates it. Being the newly-appointed as the orchestrator of this rescue mission is adding on to his already astronomical stress levels. Any wrong move could lead to the death of his girlfriend and teammates, so the man makes an effort to keep a clear mind and concentrate on the problem at hand.
“Okay, we pull away on three,” Sam announces. “Everyone good to go?”
A chorus of agreements and confirmations sound off in response, and as soon as every hero has replied, Sam takes a few deep breaths.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
“One.”
Everyone tenses up. Their muscles contract and strain, readying themselves for the moment when they need to be put to use.
“Two.”
A small, minute distance between the ground and the blocks of debris begin to form. There is a loud, deep rumbling of the concrete shifting. It scares them, but nothing has happened yet, so they push forward.
“Three.”
Thrusters, cables, and muscles groan and stretch in complaint as every ounce of effort is put into pulling the debris up and dragging it away. Sam keeps a close eye on each Avenger’s progress, calling out anyone who was moving either too slow or fast in comparison to the rest of the team. It takes quite a while—they work very slowly to maintain as much control over the situation as possible—but after eighteen minutes of hard work, Sam is able to see (Y/n), Scott, and Red Wing behind the concrete.
Unfortunately, their success is cut short when segments of the concrete slab being lifted by Tony and Rhodes break away, descending down towards (Y/n)’s head. A panicked shout leaves all of the heroes’ lips, but all Sam can hear is the blood pounding in his ears.
Before any of them can react, Scott jumps into action. He is quick to return back to his normal size, throwing himself on top of (Y/n) with his arms caging her sides as his back shields the woman from the falling debris. The solid chunks of cement strike against Scott’s unprotected backside, but he pays no mind to the pain, focusing instead on ensuring that (Y/n) does not become injured any further.
A mantra of “thank you’s” escape Sam’s lips as he looks down at the camera feed Red Wing is providing, sighing in relief at the sight of Scott re-evaluating (Y/n) just in case his body could not deflect all the debris. There is a thin layer of dirt dusting over her skin, but none of her injuries have worsened since the excavation.
“Alright, guys, let’s get moving,” Steve’s voice cuts in, interrupting Sam’s thoughts. He realizes that the captain probably predicted his lapse in concentration. “I want to get (Y/n) out of here ASAP. Clint and I are headed over now, so I better see the Quinjet within the next few minutes.”
Having squeezed himself onto the small and uncomfortable plastic chair provided by the hospital staff, Sam waits patiently (Y/n) sleeps through the medications in her system. A part of him grows impatient—he wants her to wake up at this very moment to reassure his frantic heart that everything is okay now—but Sam knows better than that. After the chaos that has taken place over the span of less than twelve hours, (Y/n) deserves all the rest she can get.
As if she could feel the waves of anxiety exuding from her boyfriend, (Y/n)’s hand begins to twitch. This movement does not go unnoticed by Sam. He watches with bated breath as she gradually rouses from her medicated slumber, bleary eyes blinking away the figurative heaviness weighing down on her eyelids. Her eyes slowly survey the room in search of something, or someone, and once they find Sam, a small whine is all she needs to let out in order for him to immediately move to comfort her.
“Hey, beautiful. I’m right here. Don’t move just yet. You’re in the hospital,” Sam gently explains with a hand over (Y/n)’s, “I’ll go get a nurse to help get that tube outta your throat. Just gimme a second, I’ll be right back.” Sam is out of the room before the young woman can even blink; she barely had time to process what he had said to her. She uses the time to examine her surroundings: admiring the colorful blur of flowers and balloons crowding the bedside table, squinting when her eyes meet the harsh, bright lights above, and relishing in the softness of the blanket beneath her fingers.
For a moment, (Y/n) wonders why her fingers can feel something warm and soft when hospitals only ever provide thin sheets that may as well serve as tablecloth until she cranes her head to look down. Tears well up in her eyes upon noticing that Sam had taken the time to go back to their apartment to retrieve the blanket he had gifted to her for their first anniversary. The plush fabric envelopes her in a cocoon of warmth, both literal and metaphorical.
“I’m baaaack,” Sam calls out playfully as he re-enters the room with a nurse trailing behind him. “See, I was so fast you probably didn’t even notice I was gone.”
Despite how painful it is to verbally articulate her thoughts with a tube in her throat, (Y/n) manages a small smile. Her goofy boyfriend always manages to find a way to brighten a somber situation. His jokes might be corny and cliche at times, but the energy he puts into them never fails to make everyone laugh, or smirk at the least.
Finding her hand once more, Sam waits patiently at (Y/n)’s side as the nurse removes any unnecessary equipment. He cracks a few more jokes during her brief assessment, and once she declares his girlfriend to be on the path to a speedy recovery, he quickly thanks her before proceeding to shoo the poor woman out of the room.
“What,” he asks innocently upon seeing the stink eye directed at him. “Can I help you?”
“She was just doing her job,” she rasps out, her voice hoarse and scratchy thanks to the intubation tube. “You didn’t need to rush her out like that.” “I’m just tryin’ to maximize the time I can spend with my girl before the lady comes back to kick me out for the night.”
With the shake of her head and a playful frown of disappointment, (Y/n) slowly shuffles to the edge of her bed with a groan. Sam immediately rushes over to scold her, but is met with a soft “no.” He stares at her incredulously, but seeing the determined look on his lover’s face, he decides to help her instead, gently tucking his arms under her.
“And may I ask why my seriously injured girlfriend has decided to move from her perfectly comfortable spot on the bed to the very edge of the mattress,” Sam teases while setting her down. Cords and tubes are meticulously rearranged to avoid becoming tangled, or worse, before blankets are piled back on over her.
“Cuddles.” “Oh.” A proud smirk stretches across Sam’s lips as he gingerly crawls into the vacant spot beside (Y/n), wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulder. “Is this my payment for rescuing you?”
“No.” The smirk disappears, a pout replacing its place. (Y/n) has to force down the giggle that wants to bubble up to the surface. “This is.”
A quick kiss finds its way to the man’s cheek before a familiar weight settles on his shoulder. Looking down, Sam finds her head nestled between his arm and chest, cheek squished almost uncomfortably into his pectoral. Given the situation, Sam wants to scold her in fear of disturbing any of her injuries, but he cannot find the heart to do it. (Y/n) has always been a very touchy person—she craves physical contact, and seeks it out during stressful times—so seeing her pressed up against his body, Sam realizes she needs the close contact with him. It provides her with a sense of security and warmth that words can never convey.
“Payment accepted,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to her head. “I’m just glad you’re back in my arms, safe and sound.”
The End
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Sam Wilson x Reader ~ Safe & Sound [Pt.2]
A/N: Hi, everyone! I’m glad to see that you enjoyed reading the first part to this story, so I am proud to present the second part to this angsty Sam fic. I originally planned for it to be only two parts, but things changed and it felt like things would be too long if I confined it all to this chapter, so here we are!
[Pt. 1] [My Marvel Masterlist]
Word Count: 1515
-- Previously --
“Put me in, Cap. I know I can do this. Trust me.” It’s not that I don’t trust you, Scott,” Steve sighs. “I don’t trust the situation. We don’t know where Clint and (Y/n) are and if something were to happen while you’re blindly searching inside, then we’d have a new total of three people in need of extraction. We just don’t know enough to send you in there.”
As if on cue, there is a shout echoing from within the debris. Natasha and Scott turn towards the sound to see an arm flailing from between the gap Scott had pointed out a few minutes prior; their eyes widen in shock at the pure coincidence.
-- Now --
“Nat, is that you?”
“Clint!”
Rushing forward, Natasha drops to her knees to grasp onto the archer’s hand, squeezing it in reassurance for both herself and him. A comforting silence washes over the two friends as they relish in each other’s touch—Scott stands off to the side with an awkward, yet genuine, smile.
“Are you hurt?”
“Oh, I’m fine, Nat. I’ve been through much worse…right now, (Y/n) is in much worse shape than I am.”
“We were just discussing our plan,” Scott interjects. “Natasha was actually the one to come up with it, but I’m the only one who can actually do it. Well, Captain America actually said no, so I don’t know if we’re actually going through with it, but-”
“Scott, now’s not the time! We need to get (Y/n) out of here, now.”
For a brief moment, it is visible the gears are turning in Scott’s brain. He mulls it over, thinking long and hard. While disobeying direct orders from Captain America himself is nowhere near Scott’s list of things to do, the former con man finds himself weighing his options. Sure, Steve will highly disapprove of the plan, but there is no way he will allow the opportunity to save a teammate to pass.
“Let’s do it.”
Scott closes his helmet as he shrinks down to the height of a pigeon, ducking into the gap of the rubble before Natasha can process everything. Without a second thought, the man takes off in a sprint, only to be stopped by Clint’s hand narrowly missing his head as it comes down in front of the now miniature man.
“Hey, where do you think you’re going? You don’t even know where she’s at yet.”
“Oh, yeah…That’d be great to know.”
A finger raises to point to the ground on Scott’s right, bringing his attention to an arrow. It is then that Scott learns of the makeshift breadcrumb trail Clint created as he crawled his way to the surface. If his helmet were able to provide the space, Scott would have dropped his jaw in awe at the archer’s ability to fabricate such an ingenious plan.
“Just follow the arrows. I laid them out so that the points can lead you in the direction you would need to go to reach (Y/n).”
“Gotcha. Just follow the arrow tips. Should be easy enough,” Scott comments, throwing a thumbs up in confirmation while also tossing the archer two Pym Disks—one to shrink down and escape the debris and another to return to his normal height. He prepares to march off in the direction of the arrows, but finds himself coming to a stop. There is a question on his mind, and it leaves him too curious to walk off without an answer first. “By the way, how did you know that you would be able to find me? If you had found anyone else, they wouldn’t be able to do what I’m doing.”
“I don’t know…I just did it hoping to find someone—anyone—who can help. I was desperate, and that was all I could do. I couldn’t just leave her without trying to do more than just look for help.”
The answer satisfies Scott’s curious mind while also creating a calming sensation. It does not make much sense in his head, but a part of him feels relieved to know that Clint was constantly worrying about his teammate as he searched for an escape route to bring help; something about that reassures him, which fuels the ex-con man with a newfound strength as he bursts into a full sprint, ready to aid (Y/n).
Hours seemed to have passed, when in all reality, Scott has only been running for twenty minutes. As tired as he is—being smaller means the distance he must run has increased considerably—he knows better than to return to his natural height. He does not want to run the risk of disturbing the fallen debris and cause everything to shift and collapse a second time.
The distance is taking its toll, and Scott nearly finds himself coming to a complete stop in order to catch his breath. He is ready to take a break when a flashing red light, followed by a constant beeping, catches his attention. Willing himself to push forward, Scott inches closer to the blinking dot.
“Oh my god…” From his perspective, being so close to the ground and all, the situation appears much worse than Clint had described it to be; Scott knows this, yet he still finds himself panicking as he frantically presses the button on his suit to return his body to its natural height. “Alright, guys. I found her!”
“Wait, what do you mean you found her?” Steve’s voice crackles into Scott’s ear, and despite the poor reception, he can picture the gears turning in the captain’s head. “Scott, did you disobey my orders?”
“Well, not exactly,” Scott replies sheepishly. “It’s more like I made a quick decision based on the situation. Clint showed up and left an arrow-crumb trail for me to follow so that I could reach (Y/n). I’m here with her now and she’s not looking good, Cap. We need to get her out of here fast. Her arm is also blinking and beeping for some reason…”
“Her arm’s…blinking and beeping…?”
“That’s her gauntlet,” Sam suddenly interjects with a shout. “It’s basically identical to mine. I had it made for her a while ago in case of emergencies, and what you’re describing should be the tracking beacon! The gauntlet automatically prompts her to activate it whenever it detects an unhealthy change in heart rate, but since she hasn't done that, it’s been beeping to get her attention.
“Listen to me very closely, Lang. I need you to turn on that tracker so we can get to you both. It’s very simple. All you have to do is tap the red circle on the screen. You think you can do that?”
“Seems simple enough. Lemme give it a go.” Carefully reaching over to (Y/n)’s left arm, the man carefully presses his finger down on the touch screen interface, causing the beeping to stop as a digital illustration of Red Wing replaces the red circle. “There’s a picture of your bird machine now, but the screen is still flashing.”
“That’s perfect. You did good, Tic Tac. Now just sit tight and make sure nothing happens to my girl while we work our way over to you!”
From outside the debris, Sam is desperate. He circles the air repeatedly as his gauntlet works to sync with (Y/n)’s gauntlet; the system is loading too slowly for his liking, and it leaves him smacking the interface with a gloved hand in an attempt to make the loading bar move faster.
While his assault does nothing to accelerate the process, the gauntlet does beep to alert the former Airman of an incoming call. The caller ID announced into the communication link has Sam breathing out a sigh of relief as he accepts the call.
“Wilson, please tell me some good news,” Tony pleads as he flies towards the team with his Iron Legion and James Rhodes following suit. “I already got a brief summary from Rogers about the plan Lang hatched. I’ll be on site in five minutes.”
“We got Scott to activate the tracker on (Y/n)’s gauntlet, so once it syncs up with mine, I’ll be able to send Redwing in to get a visual. Then we can start pulling all the debris away to get to her and Scott.”
As if on queue, Sam’s gauntlet starts beeping, notifying him of the completed synchronization. This prompts him to immediately send his drone in with just a few button taps while the interface pulls up a map for him to follow. And so, with his eyes focused on the map, Sam allows his feet to walk on their own as they lead him away—the rapid beeps from his gauntlet indicate that he’s moving in the correct direction.
He walks about 120 feet from his original spot when the beeping becomes practically non-stop and the dot representing his location on the map is visibly next to the dot representing his girlfriend’s location. Redwing has also managed to squeeze its way through the rubble, allowing Sam to pull up a live camera feed of the cavern where (Y/n) and Scott are trapped inside.
“Tony!” Sam immediately shouts for the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. His nerves feel as if there is molten lava coursing through them. He cannot keep still. “I just got a confirmed location and visual on them.”
“Perfect,” the man in question lands right beside Sam as he replies. “Give me and Rhodey access to that camera feed so we can get to work right away.”
“On it.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, the camera feed is shared with the two men in the suits. Tony works on leading his army of AI-controlled suits with James manually shifting aside the smaller pieces of concrete as Sam notifies Scott of their initiation.
To Be Continued...
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if we want the rewards of people reading our fic we must submit to the mortifying ordeal of actually writing the damn thing
Social experiment! What is harder to write: dialogue, description or exposition?
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Eren Jaeger x Male!Reader ~ Write It In Ink {Modern AU}
A/N: Here’s a fluffy story request I got for a male!reader with Eren. I originally wrote and posted this fanfic on Wattpad back in 2017, but I’ve revised it since then and will be keeping this version on Tumblr. This will be the first of, hopefully, many other SnK stories. I will especially write more once I start, and finish, the 4th season. For now, there will be many AU’s and stories based on older seasons.
Word Count: (h/c): hair color
"But I d-don't wanna, (Y/n)!!"
"C'mon, Eren, you promised!"
"B-But I didn't promise when!!"
Bickering back and forth for the past thirty minutes, Eren desperately tries to keep a firm grasp on the door frame in which his fingers are digging into. Small fragments of the wooden doorway are ripped away from their original, solid form and caught in the shy man's fingernails.
The previous night, after making the poor decision to drink several shots of heavy liquor, Eren accidentally promised to get a tattoo of his lover's name during one of his barely-coherent, drunken conversations. (Y/n), who is more well-versed when it comes to handling his liquor, heard every word and had even caught the little occurrence on video. At the time, the poor, intoxicated boy, with his cheeks flushed and legs unsteady from all the alcohol, didn't realized the agreement he had bound himself into; he shouted a few drunken declarations of love for (Y/n) before collapsing on the living room couch.
Now, fully sober and aware, Eren grimaces and makes a promise to himself to only stick to lighter drinks as he suddenly remembers his current situation, his fingers beginning to lose their grip.
“Please, (Y/n)! I-I promise I’ll get it!! J-Just… Not now!!”
“And when will that be? Huh, Eren? I don’t have all my life to wait for you to man up.”
“I-I… Uh I-,” stutters the shyer of the two. His brain is struggling to come up with a reasonable excuse for further delaying his fulfillment of the agreement.
“Exactly,” (Y/n) retorts, his lips tugging up to form a smirk. “Nothing bad will happen to ya’, Eren! I’m gonna take you to a good friend of mine. He’s the best in the business!”
“H-How would you know?” Eren’s inquiry comes out a bit harsher than he intends it to be. Looking back at his boyfriend, he sends an apologetic look to him.
“Who else could have done of all mine and not mess up?”
With his lips pursed together to form a small ‘o’ and muscles relaxing, Eren asks for (Y/n) to release the tight hold on his legs. The man drops Eren’s legs, allowing him to regain his footing. Both men stand in silence, one mulling over his next words while the other waits patiently, waiting for a response.
“Fine,” Eren sighs, rubbing his arms nervously,“ but only because I promised.”
“Great! Let’s gooo!”
---
Opening the tinted door, (Y/n) drags his lover into the parlor and promptly marches over to the receptionist counter after depositing Eren into the nearest chair, whispering into the strawberry-blonde’s ear. The young woman nods with a smile, excusing herself as she steps away from her seat to disappear further into the room. (Y/n) pulls Eren out of his seat and the teal-eyed man is hauled away once again.
The two men push past an emerald green curtain with a set of white and blue wings, ducking into a bright hallway. Eren finds himself lingering behind as he wrings his hands tightly. His head frantically turns from one side to the other each time his ears are greeted with a new sound. It becomes obvious of the man’s anxiety, so (Y/n) holds his hand and gently guides Eren to a room hidden in the back of the building. Before they enter, a tall, slim man with blond hair tied up in a ponytail exits a neighboring room, peeling off a pair of black gloves as he steps closer.
“(Y/n)!” The tattoo artist greets the (h/c)-haired male cheerfully. “It’s been quite a while since you’ve stopped by! How are you?”
“It has barely been a week since my last visit, Eld,” (Y/n) teases, nudging the tall man with his shoulder. “I’ve been busy. Today, as you can see,” he pauses and gestures to the shaking man beside him, ”my lovely boyfriend here is gonna be getting his first tattoo!”
“Ah, I see. It’s a pleasure to meet you. What’s the name of the man who’s stolen the heart of my good friend?” Eld tosses his gloves into a bin by the door to offer a hand for Eren to shake as (Y/n) flushes at the tattoo artist’s question. When the two men’s hands meet, Eld notices the trembling. “Nervous?”
“M-My name’s Eren, and y-yes, sir. V-very.”
“No worries, kid. You’re in good hands,” Eld reassures.
“A-Are you going to b-be the one working on my tattoo?”
“Nah, I’m not worthy enough, according to (Y/n).” Though he was joking, Eren nearly takes the man seriously until (Y/n) cuts in.
“I did not,” (Y/n) shouts defensively, placing a hand over his heart. “I asked for the next available artist with a free schedule!”
“Riiight. Because you know for a fact that there’s only one guy here who’s too picky about his clients to ever be completely booked.“
“E-either way,” Eren trails off, warily staring at the dark green curtain before him. “Can we p-please go now? I-I want to get this o-over with.”
“Okay. Let’s go in.”
Pushing aside the cloth covering, the (h/c)-haired man waves Eren in. Walking into the small room, Eren first notices a black-haired man with his back facing the entrance. The young man jumps nearly 3 feet back when the mysterious tattoo artist turns.
“Tch…What do you want, brat?”
“Uhh… I-”
“He’s with me, Aniki,” (Y/n) interjects. “This is the guy I mentioned to you before. Eren, this is my good friend and personal tattoo artist: Levi Ackerman.”
Peeping out from behind his lover, Eren nabs a good look at the man who is about to permanently ink his skin. Levi’s small, yet muscular frame, along with the plethora of tattoos and piercings, is anything but assuring to the anxious man’s heart. Everything about the artist makes Eren’s heart race, and not in a good way.
“Him? He’s the brat you’ve been referring to?” Levi scoffs at Eren, his tattooed fingers pointing at him aggressively.
“Yup,” chirps (Y/n). “I brought him in to get his first tattoo!”
Huffing, Levi begrudgingly gestures towards the cushioned seat. He starts to lay out a fresh set of sanitized materials. Once Eren shakily sets himself down, Levi grabs his paper pad and pencil while pulling up a stool.
“Um…I’d like to come up with something in secret…please.”
(Y/n) turns from Levi to Eren, a brow raised in surprise at his newfound courage. “Are you sure?”
“Y-Yeah.”
“Okay. If you need me, I’ll be in the room next door with Eld.”
In three large strides, he leaves the room to join the blond man. Eren waits for a full minute to ensure (Y/n) is out of earshot before speaking up.
“I… um… I already have a general idea of what I want.”
“Tch. Then let's hear it, brat.”
---
Eld watches with furrowed eyebrows as his friend paces back-and-forth from one side of the room to the next. From his perspective, and probably many other witnesses any clients chose to walk in, (Y/n) is more worried about his boyfriend than the man is worried about himself.
“Calm down, (Y/n). You’re gonna wear a hole into the floor.”
“Sorry, Eld, I’m just-”
“Worried? Yeah, I can understand where you’re coming from. I was just like you when my fiancée wanted to get her own tattoo. She had Oulo working on it and I was sure the dufus would poke a large hole in her shoulder.”
“And?”
“There was nothing to worry about. We’re all family here. There couldn’t be anyone better to work on that tattoo than people we’ve known since preschool. We trust with each other with our lives, so just relax and sit down. Eren is in good hands.”
With a pat on the shoulder, the blond man guides (Y/n) to a nearby stool and sits him down.
“I know.”
---
The sound of the door opening breaks (Y/n)’s worry-trance. He pops up from his seat and rushes over to Eren, grabbing his lover by the arm. Scanning Eren’s body for irritated skin, (Y/n) sighs in relief when all the visible parts of his body are unblemished. It is only then does he realize that his lover’s tattoo is nowhere in plain sight.
“Wait…where’s the ink? What did you get?”
“I had some help from Levi. It took a while to get the design visualized on paper, but in the end, it came out perfect.”
“Show me,” demands (Y/n), shaking Eren with both hands clasped on the man’s shoulders.
As soon as the jostling stops, Eren grabs the hem of his shirt to pull the garment up, proudly exposing a fresh tattoo stretched across his pectorals. (Y/n) hikes the fabric further up to inspect the ink, gasping when he realized it reads out his own name.
“Oh m- Eren!”
Looking up in recognition, Eren gets thrown back as the heavy body of his partner come crashing down on top of him. The two men share a long embrace on the floor before a loud huff pulls them apart.
“What are you brats doing? Just because I clean the floor regularly, that doesn’t make it sanitary to cuddle on,” an unamused Levi quips.
“Sorry, sorry, Levi,” Eren apologizes, yanking down his shirt. He stands up first before assisting (Y/n). “I know I already said this, but thank you for creating the perfect tattoo.”
“Sure thing, brat. I’ll be happy to give you more, as long as you don’t end up on the floor again with the other brat.”
“Hey! I’m your friend!”
“Who ever said you’re my friend?”
“Anikiiiiiiiiiiii-”
“”Eh.. Hehe…Let’s just go home, (Y/n).”
“Hold on, Eren. I need to teach this traitor a lesso-”
“Uh.. Bye, Eld! Bye, Levi! We’ll see you around.” Eren calls out his goodbyes while dragging (Y/n) out the door, letting it slam as he continues to drag the stubborn man home. “It’s ironic,” he teases. “You’re the one who dragged me here, yet I’m the one dragging you back.”
“Shut up.”
The End
I hope that one day someone will make flowers grow in even the saddest parts of you.
vacants (via thoughtkick)
Nikki Giovanni, The Collected Poetry, 1968-1998
powerful king sharing a powerful message while his powerful song playing in the background
