James Buchanan ‘bucky’ Barnes

I wanna do some poetry. I'm back on this account //hopefully

Is anyone still here?

pocket-sized

percy hynes white x short! reader

masterlist

mentions of: height? idk let me know if you find any!

synopsis: percy liked that you are shorter than him

i’m no longer writing for him so plz no hate!!!!

12 inches. a whole foot shorter. you were 5”2 and Percy was 6”2. he liked how he could tower you. he liked the way you would have to look up at him. he especially appreciated when it was sunny outside because you would have to look up and the sun would catch your eyes making you scrunch your face. he also enjoyed how your hands would be wayyyy smaller than his. but out of all these things, his favorite thing about how short you were was putting his head on top of yours and wrapping his hands around your waist.

You and Percy have been dating for a year. you bumped into him in a pharmacy, trying to develop your film. Percy was waiting next to you holding his camera and you with yours.

“you take pictures” he tries to start a conversation with a girl he found attractive

“yeah, just started with this, I have an actual camera,” you say smiling weakly

“I think you should keep using a disposable camera so we could bump into one another more often,” he says trying to secure a date with you

“or you could just ask for my number” a date you wanted

“would Instagram be included in that bundle” he tried to stalk you, he tried to find out who you were as a person

“or maybe on the other hand I actually don’t have a number” you try to joke

“no don’t be like that” he’s a little flustered now

a few days later after that interaction, you were on a date. after that date led to more dates than asking for you to be his officially. it was nice to have someone to call yours and be excited to hang out with whenever possible.

—-

“ready to head out,” Percy says wrapping his hands around your waist as you’re putting on the final touches of your makeup and hair

“yeah, one second,” you say putting on some perfume that Percy got you during his time in Romania. it was vanilla-scented. your favorite

you were ready to go out on your date. the date was a dinner and you wanted to bet Percy that he was going to move your seat next to his to be able to sit next to you.

right, when you were seated across from each other Percy gets up and moves his chair in the middle asking you to do the same and you did. the thing is that you thought that the distance between the two of you was perfect, but in Percy's eyes he thought differently, he scooted your chair so his practically touched. the whole night after was him with his arm around your shoulder or his hand lying on your thigh.

—-

during car rides, Percy likes to put his hand on your lap. squeezing it and making his fingers dance around. when it was summer he liked how you would dangle your head out the window. how your hair would dance in the wind.

he also liked how in the winter you would bundle up and wear his hoodies because they were so warm but you secretly liked the smell of them. he liked that you would wear the hood and sit on the car seat with yours legs held to your chest because you were so cold.

—-

he never cared about the arts really until he met you. he liked being able to take pictures of you in his bed in a small form but never liked actually making the art. he never learned from the lessons that Netflix made him do.

he liked how you would look when putting your head on his bicep. while you would observe the art. he would have you wrapped around his arms. his head on top of yours. you would talk about all the details of the painting and he would listen nodding and humming in amusement.

one thing the two of you had in common was liking films. every Tuesday heading to the closest AMC theatre. you would watch films and analyze them together afterward.

the theatre had reclining seats and you could move the middle cup holder up so the both of you could cuddle together. and that’s what you did.

every film no matters if it was scary or not you would lie on his chest while he wrapped his arms around you. (the same way you both slept) you liked the way his heart would beat speed up when he would look down on you. you could tell because his head would move around. and you could tell his shit-eating grin was on his face once again.

of course, afterward, you would talk about the film going back to your shared place. he would laugh at your theories of the film. he would play your theories in his head on the way to sleep and they would always make sense.

—-

he also liked baking with you. he liked how you would move around a lot and get the batter on your face somehow. he liked that you had your hair back in a messy style and would have an apron on. sleeves rolled up ready to take on whatever you were doing

“perc! I need your help” you yelled and saw him resting his body on the wall that splits your living room from the kitchen

“what do you need my highness” he bows down

“I need you to get me the pink bowl on the top right cabinet” you point to the thing causing your pissed-off state.

you never understood why he never got you a stool. maybe he liked being of help and being able to be in your bubble while you bake. because he never once got in the way of your work.

he never once let you put the pan into the oven because he was scared you would burn yourself. which never happened when you were on your own.

“why can’t I do it,” you ask feeling like all the work he has done

“don’t want you to get burnt,” he says opening the oven and putting in the pan

“there are mittens for a reason, y’know they aren’t decorations”

“but you look so pretty all healthy and smooth,” he says getting the brown batter from your nose and licking his finger clean

he liked cleaning up with you. playing with bubbles and splashing you with water. he grew in love with your face, he grew to be able to read your facial expressions. enough being said he could read how pissed you were but he knew to not mess around anymore.

waiting for the pastry was enjoyable. he liked waiting on the couch with you. you were in between his legs and your head rested on his chest. you would scroll on your phone and Percy would watch. when the pastry was ready you both would always burn yourselves it was like you never learned. and you would both laugh at each other. but it was enjoyable and you both would finish it in a day.

—-

the get-together was at his place. it was strictly just the cast. they slowly started to pile in through the door. he was excited to be reunited with them. he found the friends that he loved. and you were happy for him. as he greeted everyone he was ready to sit down on the couch and you were close behind. he was holding your hand guiding you to your seat.

another thing Percy was extremely mad about was you sitting on his lap. no matter if there was plenty of space everywhere else. he loved sitting with you. he especially did this when you were laying on the couch watching some TikToks and he would make you get up and lay on top of him. it would make you go crazy and not in a good way. but it made him happy so you let it slide.

“so how long have you two dated” hunter asked

“About two years,” Percy says playing with your hair. twisting it and fiddling with it between his two fingers

Emma was trying to get your attention. she thought you were interesting. she liked the way you probably have a lot to say but just keep to yourself. she knew deep down you were funny because well you were dating Percy.

“what’s something that Percy has done here that no one else knows about,” Emma asks looking directly at you. you start laughing at the thought

“no-“ Percy says trying to hold you from saying it

“he…he sings t swift when he’s bored” Percy tried to cover your mouth before you finished the sentence, but it was too late because what you said was out and everyone was laughing

“so- uh- so who wants to play uno” Percy says trying to move the conversation

wanting to get the Uno cards that were under the coffee table. in a red tin box that once contained chocolates, Percy got you for valentines day. once you got it you were walking to his kitchen. all the seats were taken and Percy put you on his lap. he shuffled the cards and something about that no matter who did it, was attractive. Percy however liked the way your hands made the Uno cards look humongous while he made them look tiny.

“Are you both teaming?” Jenna asked

“should we” Percy whispers in your ear sending butterflies straight to your stomach

“Sure,” you say kissing his cheek and everyone started teaming up.

halfway through the game, Percy has half the deck with him.

“I should've never teamed with you” you laugh at just seeing the cards

“I’ll make us win don’t worry” he had his eyes wide like he was determined. and that he was because he always kept his promises to you.

and by the end of the night you both did. he liked the way your eyes would sparkle with joy that only lit up with winning. how you would wrap your hands around him and laugh.

—-

one thing Percy hated was high heels. it was like they were enemies. you never understood it. it wasn’t like you would get whiny about the heels hurting you. in fact it was the opposite. you would run dance jump all of it and all Percy’s face was saying is how much he hated those things giving you height.

he liked that you would have to tip-toe for him but those were easy access they took one of his favorite things about you. and if he could he would destroy them all.

he liked that at the end of the day, you would dress in his clothes to go to bed. it was practically a nightgown for you. he liked how you would clean your face and make sure you felt clean. he liked the way you would be ready to go to bed and not even act like you didn’t want to be by him. because you did you wanted him to wrap his arms around you because it is reassuring and comforting. and wake up in that same form in the morning.

Could you please write a story about how best friend reader somehow blips from the TASM!Peter’s universe into MCU!Peters universe and just about the reunion between the reader and TASM!Peter

Bonus points for angst if the reader and TASM!Peter had a fight before they blipped our

AN | This has been in my inbox for months but anon, I hope you see this, and I hope you enjoy it! And yes, I took some liberties with the Peters/timelines ❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings | Language, Nondescript mentions of Injury

Word Count | 3.3k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You’re being absolutely ridiculous,” you folded your arms across your chest as you glared at your best friend. The very same best friend that happened to be Peter Parker that also happened to be Spider-Man. The boy sighed as he hung his head, his face bruised and bloodied from a rough night. 

“I think I’m being the normal amount of ridiculous,” his attempt to make a joke didn’t land well with you at all. You took the warm, wet washcloth that had been in your hand and tossed it at him. He caught it effortlessly and looked up at you with a pathetic little look on his face, “alright, I deserved that.”

“Peter,” the way you said his name was enough to make his heart constrict. He hated seeing you upset, but he hated knowing that he was the cause of your pain, “look at you. It’s almost four in the morning and you crawled in through my window, bleeding and clearly in pain. I know…fuck, I know you’re Spider-Man but I worry about you.”

“You don’t have to worry about me-”

“Telling me that isn’t going to suddenly make me stop caring, Peter Benjamin Parker,” you sat down on the bed next to him, “I think that sometimes you take too many risks when you could play it safer.”

“I don’t…” he couldn’t even get the sentence out. He knew you were right and he knew that’d been even more reckless than normal lately. Peter wasn’t doing it out of anything really…he just wanted to get things and get his point across, “I guess you’re right.”

“I am right,” you whispered, gently taking the cloth back from him, reaching up and gently washing off the blood that had started to dry. The way he winced at even the lightest of touches caused you to frown again, “I love you, Pete. I don’t want anything to happen to you. I don’t know if…” 

You swallowed the lump that had welled up in your throat, blinking back the tears that were already stinging at the back of your eyes. Peter put his hand on top of your where it rested on his cheek, “nothing is going to happen to me. You’re stuck with me forever, sunshine.”

“Am I?” your voice dropped to a soft whispered, “am I stuck with you forever? Because sometimes I truly wonder about that. I don’t want you coming to me in the middle of the night hurt and upset, but I’d rather have that then nothing because the alternative is…much worse.”

“Yeah,” he missed your touch as soon as you pulled your hand back from him, “I know.”

“Promise me you’ll be more careful?” your voice shook as you willed him to look at you. You wanted him to look at you, wanted to see those big brown eyes looking back at you, “Pete…please.”

“I’ll try and be more careful,” he would barely look in your eyes and that served to break your heart even more, “but I can’t make promises that nothing’s ever going to happen again.”

“Just please don’t make all these sudden, rash decisions, Pete-”

“I can’t promise that will or won’t happen!” he didn’t mean to raise his voice and the way you flinched broke his heart, “you don’t know what it’s like out there! Sometimes you just have to do things…you can’t just think about them!”

You remained silent for a few long moments, before standing up and nodding slightly, “okay. Okay. Get out  please, Peter.”

“Sweetheart-”

“I mean it Peter,” this time it was you that looked away and refused to meet his eyes, “get out. And if you keep acting like this, don’t come back.”

He looked at you in disbelief but when he saw that you weren’t joking, the reality of the situation hit him. He made a small sound before nodding and standing up. He stood there for a moment, both of you avoiding looking at each other, before he gently brushed past you and towards the window. He slid it open but before he could step all the way out he turned back, “I love you too, you know.”

He left without another word, leaving you there with your mind teeling. Had he really just said that and left?

Of course he had. This was Peter Parker after all. With the heaviest of sighs you flopped into bed, not even bothering to get under the covers as you willed sleep to claim you. 

This night had turned out so entirely different from what you had imagined. Now you were afraid you’d lost him forever. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You hoped that wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. Right? Right?

You woke up the next morning to sun streaming in through your window. You groaned as you rolled onto your other side to try and hang onto your sleepiness so you could get a little more shut eye. But luck wasn't having it, and you felt wide awake. With a groan you fumbled out of bed and headed towards the bathroom; you couldn't place it but something felt…off. 

You couldn't shake the feeling all morning as you got ready for work. You checked your phone too many times for what was warranted and found nothing from Peter. You were half surprised but figured that you were pretty harsh on him last night and decided to give him some more space. You'd try him later if he hadn’t gotten back to you.

As you left your apartment for work, everything seemed slightly…different. Like there was some sort of lavender haze settling over everything. You tried to ignore it, rationalizing that you just weren't thinking straight. 

When you got to your office, you received a few weird looks but no one really said anything. So, you settled into your office and got to work, ignoring the nagging feeling. The fact that you somehow couldn't remember your computer password or that everything in your office was just slightly different didn't register.

What did, however, was that Peter hadn't contacted you. So, during your lunch you decided to call him and apologize. If he was willing to listen anyway. You didn't actually want to lose him, you did, however, want him to stay safe and sound.

Midway through the day you grabbed your phone and called him, waiting either bated breath for him to answer. It rang and rang and when you thought it would be kicked over to voice-mail, it was answered.

"Hello?" It was a voice that was most decidedly not Peter. This one sounded…younger? Different? Something.

"Hi, umm, can I talk to Peter?" Maybe one of his coworkers had answered the phone for him. 

"Well, you're talking to him, so…" he sounded confused as your brows knitted together, "w-who is this?"

"This isn't funny," your eyes were tearing up as you tried to figure out what kind of joke this was, "please just put on Peter. I-I need to talk to him, it's important."

"This is Peter-"

"Peter Parker."

"This is Peter Parker," you wanted to be mad but the voice on the other end of the line wasn't laughing. Nor did he sound even remotely amused, "I'm sorry, I don't know what's going on but…maybe you have the wrong number?"

You hung up without another word, mind racing as you tried to put all the pieces together. Who had Peter's phone? And why?

What was going on?

The rest of the day went by in a blur, as your mind wandered and wandered through a million possibilities of what was going on with Peter. You came to the only logical explanation you could think of - you would simply go by his place to see what was going on.

As soon as you were done, you almost ran out and to his apartment. The concerned looks you were getting from passersby didn't phase you. All you could think of was Peter. Peter, Peter, Peter.

You knocked on his door, looking around the hall and noticing that a lot of people had made some changes to their places and there were new plants. You listened for his familiar footsteps but after a few moments when you didn't hear anything, you knocked again, this time with more vigor.

This door was wrenched open after a few moments and you found yourself face to face with a young man with wide brown eyes and curious expression etched onto his features.

"Hello?" He asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion, "can I help you?"

"Peter - where's Peter?" You tried to look past him but realized you had no clue who this kid was. Peter was your best friend, you knew his other friends too, "and who are you?"

"Umm…" he looked behind you before turning around and studying his own space. The boy grimaced before exhaling slowly, "I'm Peter. Peter Parker."

"I…I don't understand," you shook your head, rubbing at your tired face in exasperation, "is this supposed to be a joke? Is he in on it?"

"There's - no. Here," he reached into his pocket and fished out his ID and handed it to you. A gasp escaped your lips as you studied. He was Peter Parker and his home address was listed the same as the real Peter, "I don't know what happened with the mix up but-

"Spider-Man," you breathed out softly and a look of shock crossed his features, "how did…how?"

"Peter - my Peter - he's Spider-Man," your mind was reeling as you tried to put all the pieces together, "he has the same phone number and this is his address."

"Wait…" his brows knitted together, "what's your name?"

You told him your name and let out a bit of incredulous laughter, "I know you. Well, umm…I-I guess a version of you. Or whatever this is you. My aunt works with you."

"May? May Parker?" You asked and he nodded with a sheepish shrug. Your May was definitely not going to be the same person, you knew that much. You exhaled slowly, "this is so weird. I don't know what or how or why or anything but I don't think I belong here. You're not…my Peter."

"No," he shook his head and motioned for you to come inside. You stepped into the familiar, yet completely new, apartment and looked around, "is everything okay with him? Your Peter? Are you....?”

“He’s my best friend,” you looked around at all the photos that lined the walls. There were plenty of Peter along with what you assumed were his friends and aunt. Definitely not your May, “at least we were. We kind of got into a fight last night and I basically told him to get out.”

“Oh,” he watched you curiously, “I’ve gotten into a few of those arguments before.”

“You mean the ones where someone gets mad at you for being reckless and asks you to be careful but you claim its part of the job but you’ll try your best?” you asked and Peter nodded in amusement. Part of the job, you supposed. You ran a hand through your hair, “He kept getting hurt and its been getting worse lately and I just…I want him to be careful, you know? He keeps coming through my window, bleeding and bruised, and I’m afraid one day that he’s just not going to be there. He’s not going to come home to me. And I-I can’t lose him. He is…everything to me.”

A mixture of emotions colored his features as you offered him a small, sad little smile, “you’re in love with him.”

“Yeah,” you couldn’t even pretend to lie about it, “I am. I have been for a long time. I’ve just never told him. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“I don’t think you have to tell him,” he offered you a lopsided little smile before tilting his head to one of the pictures on the wall. It was of him and a beautiful girl, both of them beaming at the camera, “not if it’s anything like that.”

“I don’t know,” you’d always wondered if he knew or felt the same. You had no idea and now you were afraid that you might never find out, “but what if I…how do I even get back? What am I doing here?”

“I don’t know how it all works,” he confessed and while you knew that it wasn’t his fault at all, you couldn’t help your sigh, “it’s confusing to me at times too. But there’s a whole…multiverse…theory and all that.”

“Yeah,” you agreed softly, “all that wild, sciencey stuff. Pete is the science brain…just like you I presume. I’m the…not science person. It all gets kind of lost on me. I just don’t know what to do now.”

“Maybe we can figure it out,” he suggested and you couldn’t help but admit that the kid was growing on you. He seemed sincere and kind…he did remind you of your Peter in a lot of ways, “just give me some time to think, okay?”

“Thank you,” you reached over and gave his shoulder a squeeze, “you’re very kind. In the meantime I guess I’ll just try and keep calm and all that.”

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked softly, “do you want to stay here?”

“I’ll go back to my…well, this world’s anyway, apartment,” you hadn’t seen anyone else, namely the alternate universe you, in the apartment or anywhere at your work. You figured you’d probably replaced her…or yourself or whatever it was, “I guess I’ll see you around? You have my number now if you think of anything.”

“I will,” he promised, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow and we can figure out something. If you need anything or anything seems off, please call or text me.”

“Sounds good,” you headed towards the door and gave him a small smile, “thank you, Peter. It seems like in every universe you’re a good guy.”

“But we’ll get you back to your Peter. Promise,” he held up his hand with his outstretched pinkie and you couldn’t help but laugh at his silliness. You hooked your pinkie around his and nodded.

You had some hope that whatever happened would be fixed. 

Then you’d go back to Peter and finally tell him how you felt. You had to - you knew you did.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A few days had passed without much happening. You spent the time you could with Peter and his friend Ned trying to go through all the possible things that could have happened. You kept rehashing each moment in your mind, going through it all over and over again until you felt like you no longer knew what had actually happened. 

The worst part of all was that none of you could figure out exactly what happened or why you were suddenly there instead of your own home. The only thing it did was cause your hope to slowly dwindle away - what if you were stuck there forever? What if you never saw Peter again? That would have been the worst thing of all. The boys did help though and kept reassuring you that things would be alright. You hoped they were right.

After a week, you started to accept that you weren’t going anywhere. At least, you reasoned with yourself, you weren’t stuck in some weird universe that was completely different from what you knew. 

Things were starting to seem normal, until late one evening while you were watching a movie and you heard a loud, frantic knocking at the door.

“Hold on, hold on,” you set your ice cream down and padded towards the door. Perhaps it was a neighbor you hadn’t met before or maybe someone had the wrong address; either way, you definitely weren’t expecting anyone. You opened the door without even thinking about checking to see who it was, “hello?”

“Hi,” your mouth opened and closed a few times as you looked at the man standing across the threshold. Peter Parker. But not just any Peter Parker, it was your Peter. 

“Peter?” you almost whispered his name and he nodded at you, confused for just a moment. Without thinking about it, you threw yourself into his arms, and he caught you without missing a beat as he hugged you back just as fiercely, “Peter!”

“Sunshine,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, “oh, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” you pulled back and took his face in your hands, looking him over. It was still the same man you loved and adored, the bruises and scratches from the last time you’d seen him almost completely gone, “I…I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”

“You didn’t really think one little argument was going to keep me away, did you?” he wrapped his fingers around your wrists, looking at you softly, “I thought that maybe you didn’t want to see me. You weren’t answering my calls or texts.”

“I…” he had no clue. He had no idea that you’d been gone for over a week, “how long was I avoiding you?”

“Like…ten days, not that I’ve been counting or anything,” he admitted sheepishly, cheeks pinking, “this was kind of my last ditch attempt to apologize and to tell you that -”

“I’m in love with you,” you couldn't help yourself - you just had to get it out. His big, brown eyes softened and he seemed to lose his voice for a moment. You nervously smiled at him, “Peter Parker. My Peter.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, heart eyed with a lovesick smile on his face, “I’m yours.”

This time he surprised you by pulling you in and kissing you. His actions caught you so off guard that it took you a moment to respond. When you did, you looped your arms around his neck and kissed him back with just as much hunger and neediness. Neither of you wanted to stop, reluctantly pulling apart when you needed air. 

“I’m, ugh, in love with you too,” he pressed his forehead against yours and you couldn’t help but steal a few more kisses from him, “have you been okay? I was getting worried when you didn’t call or text back. No one had seen you either.”

“I’ve got so much to tell you,” you reached for his hand and pulled him inside, “so much.”

“Wait - did something happen?” he looked you over, relieved to see that you didn’t appear to be in any sort of pain or harm, “sunshine?”

“I haven’t been gone,” you weren’t even sure where to begin with this one, “well, not really. I was with Peter Parker.”

“Umm….not sure where I was, but I don’t remember…”

“I don’t expect you to - but you’ll understand,” you looked at him with wide eyes, “because while it was Peter Parker - it wasn’t you. A-and Aunt May was different too.”

“Whoa, whoa,” he grew excited as he quickly caught up on what you were saying - he was a practical genius after all, “are you saying that…”

“Multiverse,” you finished for him, “it’s all true - I think. Some of it anyway.”

“Holy shit.”

“I have so much to tell you,” you grinned, “and, ugh, thank you for not immediately assuming I was crazy.”

“I’m Spider-Man,” he raised his eyebrows, “I’ve heard and experienced stranger things. Tell me more.”

“I will,” you promised, dragging him over to the couch before stopping yourself, “wait - there’s something else I want to do first.”

“What is it-”

And then you were kissing him again and he immediately melted into your touch. 

“Oh,” he sighed softly, “I could get used to that.”

“Good,” you beamed at him and things suddenly felt right again the world, “me too.”

haunting the narrative

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Finally ))))

CLOSE COLLABS with TOM HOLLAND

Silver Wit: VI - To Look Within

══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══

"Nature loads the gun, nurture pulls the trigger" 

Silver Wit Masterlist Chapter VI on ao3 taglist: @silverzoomies, @quickandsilvers, @icannot3, @ancientseeker

a/n: hello yes i am back with another chapter, sorry it took longer than the previous ones! motivation took a hit but i still love this story and these characters so i’m not abandoning it anytime soon. btw, i am well aware that Moving Pictures as an album came out in 81’, but also walkmans didn’t exist until 1979, so everyone can shut up about my lack of accuracy with the timeline (jk). just roll with it, lads. 

══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══

“Omega level, I’d say,” the Professor says, rather calmly for the fact; he sets his fingers down, picks a fountain pen up and looks to Dr. McCoy, whose lips part in shock in turn. 

“Are you sure?” He asks in disbelief.

Writing on a pad, Professor Xavier confirms, “Positively. She’s a psychoscope with no discernable upper limit to her abilities. There are some… complications as to how that manifests for contact with lifeforms.”

I swallow. He must have seen my father. “Professor, did you…?”

Only now do I notice the slightest shine to his eye. “Oh, my dear, I did. I normally would have avoided anything personal, but the wound is a little too fresh for those memories to stay hidden at all,” he exhales. “I’m so incredibly sorry, both for intruding on your privacy but also that that ever happened to you. For what it’s worth, nothing like that would ever happen to you here, I’m sure of it.”

“It’s alright, Professor. I wasn’t opposed to sharing that with you and Dr. McCoy anyway; besides, it’s the only instance of that power manifesting. There’s no way you could have missed it. I understand.”

“Hey, uh—I’m sorry to hear that something awful happened to you, even though I don’t really know what’s going on,” Dr. McCoy’s condolences are heartwarming. “For what it’s worth, I think your powers are going to be really useful in the lab. I’m sure the Professor already knew that when he suggested I take you in.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I would be glad to offer you whatever help I can. I’m looking forward to working with you—laboratory work has always been a dream of mine; if this power can be used for academic research, then at least there’s one good reason for all of this.”

Glancing at Dr. McCoy, Professor Xavier wheels himself over to me. “May I have one more look? In there?”

“Of course. For you, I’m an open book. Nothing to hide,” I say, briefly forgetting that I had ever been worried about my thoughts pertaining to Peter. Not to mention, it’s true; I don’t take any issue with sharing this tumult with the Professor. If anyone can understand this plight, it’d be him. 

‘One good reason’—a Freudian slip. It’s been evident for a long while now that my relationship with and attitude towards my power has been complicated at best. What started off as an innocent excitement for knowledge became hubris, and now punishment. How warped, how corrupt! for the thing I adore the most to turn into fodder for nightmares. How wicked it’s been for me, that should this power devour me whole that I would lose the very fabric to my reason for living. Not only my capacity to understand would be corrupted, no—just how simple that would be. With this psychometric curse growing would come the devastation of everything I could hope to do. My contact with the world in all meanings of the word would be severed. All or nothing; know everything there is to or don’t at all. If this takes over me, how can I ever hold someone again? How could I love if to do so would be to intrude on their soul?

After a pause, he sets himself back as a tear buds at the corner of his eye. “My dear, nature loads the gun, nurture pulls the trigger. I know that this power feels like a curse to you - for the moment, I should say - but I want to assure you; with training, this power coupled with your extraordinary mind is certain to be a force to be reckoned with. As much hurt as you’ve been caused by having this ability, it’s a gift, truly. You can train it such that it wouldn’t cause others hurt the same way. These powers never feel like gifts at the beginning, but you’ll grow to develop it, hone it. It’ll be an instrument beyond any others that have come before it—for whom it is that you are, this power is perfect.”

I’d thought that for someone like me, so easily overwhelmed by the littlest things, having the sheer force of this psychometry was the worst possible thing that could have happened to me. Just touching any object sends a torrent of information strong enough to make one collapse just by bearing witness. Even the prospect of it being useful in any trivial way had been vastly overshadowed thus far; hearing it from the Professor changes so much within me. “That means so incredibly much to me, Professor. Thank you, truly.”

“No matter, I only speak the truth.”

Dr. McCoy moves to sit in the chair next to me. “He’s right, you know. Your mind and your psychometry together could make you one of the greatest researchers of the history of Science. No flattery. You have access to so much more information than anyone else ever could dream of. Your power is invaluable; I hope you’ll come to see that one day.”

At the Doctor’s encouragement, I can only smile in the comfort he offers. “I’ll try my best, Doctor. Thank you kindly.”

“Of course. Do you have any other secondary abilities? Mutants often do,” Dr. McCoy asks.

I look to the Professor for permission to demonstrate, and to me he grants it with a single nod. As I point at the pen he had used to write, it floats over to the pad and writes the words ‘Beta level telekinesis’ under ‘Omega level psychometry’; the top sheet of paper rips itself off the pad and slips into Dr. McCoys hands.

He grins. “I can’t wait to have you in the lab.”

“The pleasure will be all mine, Dr. McCoy. I’m excited to join you.”

“It’ll be great. Oh, any ideas for a codename? We do have good fun with them, but it’s also always helpful to have a shield of anonymity when we’re out in the field,” the Doctor asks. 

Peter had mentioned that I would need one, though I hadn’t thought much of it at the time. A codename—seems almost fictional. All I am is a British teenager, I’m not MI6. “How would I go about deciding? What would I even base it off of?”

Professor Xavier hums. “Oftentimes our abilities, or sometimes, such as in Hank’s case here, appearance. For example, you’ve met Peter; he goes by Quicksilver, and it’s rather evident as to why. I’m Professor X, and Hank is the Beast.”

“I’m sorry, the Beast?” I query.

“Uh—you’ll understand when you see it,” Dr. McCoy states matter-of-factly. “Bad medication gave me some side effects.” 

Sensing the trepidation, I leave it be. “Alright, I see. Well, I’m honestly quite lost; drawing a blank, as it were. Professor, I’m more than happy to receive a name from you. You’ve looked in here, after all,” I point to my head, “I trust you’ll come up with a good one.”

“I’d be honoured,” Professor Xavier’s smile is knowing—a soft smile much like the ones my father used to give me in my childhood, in the years before everything had gone awry. Where my father hates me for my mutation, this man before me will name me for it. A conflicting confusion of sentiments. It dawns on me: the Institution isn’t the sanctuary; the Professor is. His philosophy and his teaching—that’s what serves as the protection and nurturing on these grounds. 

“With your psychometry and your intellect? I think we best name you Cognitia.”

══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══

Peter had never been so forward before. Hell, he’d never been forward, ever. S’not like he was ever that serious about anyone before, so... sure, okay, if he was really being honest with himself? He’d occasionally find himself feeling a little attracted to someone he’d see passing by.

Dang, remember that one guy, the one with the sleeves always rolled up? His arms w—uh, no, his ripped jeans were hot. Peter didn't know what the hell he was doing on Xavier’s grounds that week, but he wasn’t complaining at the time at all. Still, it’s not like Peter ever really gave that much of a shit about any of the admittedly sorta-maybe-kinda-a-little-tiny-bit attractive folk he’d - okay, fine - had minor crushes on. It really didn’t mean anything, though, he swears on his life. Man, it was only just ‘cause they looked nice, y’know? That’s all there was to it. Unless he’d fooled around with them for a second, he never even actually bothered to talk to any of them—testament to how little it meant, he thinks. Even then, Peter was always the one to be hit on, and he would just roll with it. He’s never had it in him to really actively pursue anyone, really. Looking was plenty enough for Peter. The feelings would eventually pass pretty quickly anyway. That’s what he was always good at, right? Being quick and all. That was his thing.

Scarily, he isn’t so sure this feeling would eventually pass quickly. Worse, he isn't sure this feeling would pass at all, for the foreseeable future, anyway. He tries not to think about the implications too much. Some itching in his heart is refusing to let him deny that whatever is happening to him is different to the random and superficial infatuations he’d had before.

She’s the on–

What the actual fuck is wrong with Peter? He doesn’t even know her, not to mention, he didn’t even think he’d ever wanted anything seriously romantic before. Everything before was just ‘that guy is hot’, ‘that girl can get it’, but this is… 

He has to stop this. This can’t happen.

She probably wouldn’t ever consider him that way. Peter’s pretty sure he saw she looked nervous whenever he had been a little flirty—what was up with the flirting, by the way? He didn’t even know he was capable of doing that; it was like he was in a trance, a perpetual state of internal panic whenever he had teased her. He’d just been witnessing his body go through the motions while he had alarms sounding, flashing red in his head the entire time. However nervous she was, Peter’s certain his nerves were tenfold. The fact that he didn’t explode is shocking.

Fuck, what if Peter actually freaked her out? What if she’d never want to actually talk to him again because of that stupid shit he pulled on the couch? That would be hell. Genuine torture. She had said earlier that she would, but Peter also had just ambushed her when she agreed. He doesn’t know what to believe anymore; it would be actual agony for Peter if she never wanted to speak to him again.

Weirdly, it wasn’t during the lighthearted joking around that Peter felt the most lucid. Instead, it was when they were being open, vulnerable, and emotional. That has to mean something, right? Why her? It hits him: he sees himself in her. What really gets him? is how real he felt while talking to her. He’d never felt that comfortable being honest about himself before. Every time he made a joke about how much he thought he was a loser, everyone else would just laugh it off. Speaking to this one British girl he’d only just met was the most genuine he had ever been other than with his sister and mother. To be fair, Wanda doesn’t count, though, he thinks. She can just look into his head whenever she wants, often regardless of whether Peter wants. This was him actually actively sharing parts of himself with someone else.

He just really, really wants to be her friend. After all, she’s really cool! he thinks.

She’s really prett—No. 

She’s really smart! he thinks.

She was flirting bac—No. No. 

She was really nice to me! he thinks. 

It’s not like Peter thinks she’s pretty. Alright, fine, he thinks she’s beautiful, drop dead gorgeous, completely bewitching—sue him. Still, it’s not a big deal to him! He just thinks she’s really smart, and kind, and funny, and powerful. In a really platonic way. Super, super platonic; no romantic or sexual attraction anywhere as far as the eye can see. She doesn’t have Peter whipped at all. No, no way. Peter’s going to be fine. He’s going to be totally fine.

I want to be with he—

Oh, fuck.

══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══

Holding the door open to my new quarters, Dr. McCoy allows the Professor and I to enter the room. There's a sweet full-circle from the Doctor letting me into the mansion, and now letting me into my new bedroom. My eyeline darts around the space, and it meets a bed, a desk, a closet. Clothes are set on the bed for me. Down are wooden floorboards matching the foyer, before is decor reminiscent of the common room. The room looks the part to be one in a mansion of this standing—somehow, the posh English privilege hasn’t left my life. This bedroom for me is my respite, my salvation, my gratitude.

Spinning his chair to face me, the Professor remarks, “Here we are, then. This wing is where some of our older students live. You’re seventeen, yes?”

“I am, that’s right.”

Professor Xavier nods, “That’s about the age range here. Mind, we only had this room left in this wing, so if you’d like to switch, we’ll have to see what we can do…”

My curiosity is piqued. “Oh no, I absolutely adore this room. I have no complaints in the slightest, and I’m so grateful and relieved to even have anywhere to stay. Why would I ever want to switch?”

With impeccable timing, my question is answered wordlessly. Cue a loud bang, followed by an ‘oh fuck!’, rounded off with the chimes and riffs of Rush’s YYZ. Faint is the Doppler effect’s familiar melody in whooshing gusts of air zipping to and fro across the hallway. It’s not at all slow to dawn on me—my neighbour immediately opposite the hallway is the speedster I’ve been desperately trying to ward out of my mind all this while.

Dr. McCoy sighs. “Peter.”

“Look now, I’m going to be candid; we’ve seen our fair share of Peter being a pain in the arse, but what happened earlier was an anomaly even for him,” Professor Xavier explains, to which my face reddens accordingly. “He’s normally a good young lad, but we don’t want to force you into an uncomfortable living situation if you wouldn’t feel at ease here.”

‘An anomaly even for him’? I suppose my suspicions that he was always that flirty are moot. “I think I’ll be fine, honest. I’ll let you both know if that isn’t the case, but it should be alright. I can handle my own,” I say, unsure of how convinced I am myself. “I promise I’ll voice it if I change my mind.”

“Good. Well, as long as you’re alright, we’re happy. We’ll leave you to get settled in then; you’ve had quite a long day, Cognitia,” Professor Xavier graces me with a smile.

Dr. McCoy opens the door and readies himself to leave after the Professor wheels himself out. “Hey, I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? We can go down to the lab after breakfast if you’re up for it.”

I can’t contain my excitement; to be surrounded by cutting edge apparatus and research with one of the most well respected academics in genomics? What a rush it’ll be! All I had wanted was somewhere to live, anything better than that cold London homelessness; and yet, it’s beginning to truly sink in—I’m to work with the Dr. Hank McCoy from tomorrow onwards. I may as well collapse from the sheer ridiculousness of the entire situation.

Laughing, I say, “I’m sure I’ll be up for it. Thank you both once again; I know I’ve repeated myself much but I genuinely don’t know how else to thank you. You’ve saved my life.”

“Don’t thank us, we’re doing our jobs is all. Protecting and caring for young mutants is all we can hope to do. We both look forward to having you be a fixture in the School and our R&D facility. Rest well, then,” Professor Xavier bids me good night as he and Dr. McCoy exit the room.

══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══

As I pace about, taking everything in, my heart rate climbs ever so slightly. I look around the room in my lonesome, still hearing Rush playing through my door. Peter’s zipping around seems to have come to a conclusion, though I can’t say I know the reason as to why. A small part of me wonders if he isn’t alright, and an even smaller part is tempted to go over to check, but I dismiss it. The timing isn’t right. 

Stopping at the foot of the bed, I look at the clothes in front of me; I rummage through them and find an appropriate set of a black t-shirt and some simple shorts for sleep. I notice a pair of gloves much cleaner and sleeker than the ones I currently adorn have been placed on the bedside table for me. How kind! of the Professor and Doctor to think of me so; my heart soars. I can’t wait to get out of this ridiculous hodgepodge of an outfit. Not to mention, I can’t wait to get out of being completely covered up. It is dreadfully uncomfortable in the Summer Heat.

Picking the clothes up and making my way to my en-suite - and I must say, how very delightful it is to have one - I can’t shake the nervousness. Peter lives directly opposite to me, and that notion is... conflicting. Quite obviously, I bear no grievances towards him and I really did enjoy his company, but I still have my worries. I’m not sure I can survive the emotional rollercoaster constantly being teased by him. If that moment on the sofa was anything to base my suspicions on, I may as well be pumping myself full of adrenaline shots on a daily basis. Who needs a cuppa when the mind reels so easily? Honestly, what have I become?

I enter the bathroom. It’s time then—to take these gloves off. Drenched in hesitance, I slide my old gloves off and place them on the bathroom countertop by the sink and the rest of my clothes follow. Nervously, I turn the shower on as quickly as possible; thankfully, I’m spared the hell of attempting to solve the impossible mystery of working out how to operate a shower with which one is not already familiar. Another good thing about these powers, I suppose.

As I wash myself off, I notice that the stream of water in this shower isn’t bothering me as much as the raindrops splattering themselves onto me when last I was at my family home. Perhaps the emotional state affects my psychometric experience? I wonder. That hypothesis will have to be tested—another study to add to the list of questions I want answered.

Drying myself off and stepping out of the shower, I’m met once again with Moving Pictures. Vital Signs; the humour of the aptness the lyrics are for me at this moment is hysterical. Unstable condition? A symptom of life in mental and environmental change? How very, very on the nose. I don’t mind the music at all, strangely. Maybe if it continues every night I might, but right now it soothes the loneliness away. With the music is the feeling that someone is right there—I know for a fact that I’m not living alone. Others are right by me, and I know that they’re like me too. Rather, I’m like them.

Once I’m changed, I make my way back into my new bedroom and sit on the bed. It doesn’t yet feel like home, but I cannot wait for the day that it does. Looking over, I see that I had left the clothes I had been going through in a messy pile. They were so kind to even give me clothes, and I made a mess of them immediately? What is the actual matter with me? Sighing, I collect the motivation to do anything about it; this is for the Professor and Dr. McCoy, I think to myself. Out of respect and gratitude for their help. At least pinning my obligation onto others helps in manifesting the guilt into doing basic tasks.

I hum along to Vital Signs as I start folding the clothes and moving back and forth between the bed and the new wardrobe. Finding new homes for all the clothes feels poignant given the circumstances. In the monotony, I lose myself to the music and sing along. “Everybody need reverse polarity—”

Immediately, a zoom and a knock at the door. It’s obviously Peter. We did agree that we would talk, I remember. Scanning the room, I decide it’s in a decent enough state for him to see. “Come in…?”

The door opens a touch, and his head pokes in through the narrow gap. “Everybody got mixed feelings?” He shyly continues the lyrics. 

Huffing, my eyes shut closed. “God, truer words have never been spoken…” I mutter. “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry. Just blanked for a second. You can come in, Peter.”

Walking into the room, his tongue briefly darts out and he ruffles his hair. “Hey, sorry for barging in. So uh, you know Rush?”

“Yeah, I do,” I laugh. “Thanks for playing the music. It’s nice to hear other people around.”

He shifts his weight and points at the chair, and I nod for him to sit. “Oh, yeah, sorry about that too. Since this room was empty for ages, I’ve gotten kinda used to just blasting my music out loud when I’m in my own room. The other rooms are further down the hallway,” he explains, and I flush at my own inferences. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my Walkman, but sometimes I don’t wanna have the earpieces on, y’know?”

“No yeah, I understand. No worries at all mate, I don’t mind. Just let me pick out what we listen to sometimes, yeah?” I giggle. “I had a lot of music back home but I couldn’t bring it over. So many LPs and cassettes just wasted…”

Upon my words, Peter grins widely in enthusiasm. “Wow, really? That’s great though, y’know, the others around here aren’t so big into music like I am. Another thing we have in common then, huh? And don’t worry about it, we’ll get you new music in no time. I’m a decent pickpocket, I can get you whatever you want easily.”

“That sounds great,” I grin back. “And hey, the music’ll sound great too.”

“Pfft. Yeah, no shit, that’s sorta what it’s for,” The corner of his mouth quirks in amusement. 

I fold my arms. “Alright, smartarse. Thank you for that; and by the way, I’m a good pickpocket. I’m better than good. Everything you saw me wearing earlier was stolen.”

Peter’s eyes widen impossibly large. “No way. Also, you’re one to call me a smartass.”

Waving my hand in dismissal, I explain, “Yeah, I didn’t have a choice. I had to leave with nothing, so all I could do was take whatever I could since I didn’t have any money either,” I huff. “Thanks to my father, anyway.”

He nods. “I get it. Don’t blame you at all. Also, I get the whole shitty dad thing, I’ll tell you about it some time, but uh—that’s not what I came in here to talk about. Sorry if that ruins the vibe but I… yeah. We said we would, right?”

Gulping, I reply, “That we did. We did say that. Yes. Let’s… do that.”

“Hey hey hey, if you don’t wanna right now, that’s fine! Seriously, we can go back to talking about the music crap or I could go back to my room, I get it. I’ll even switch to talking about my crappy father if you want that for some reason. It’s been a long day for you, y’know? I don’t mi—” He dramatically punctuates each clause in gesture.

Shaking my head, I interrupt him, “No, it’s fine. It’s good, actually. I want to talk about it, you don’t have to leave. I’m just a little antsy.”

“Oh. Great, thanks. So I wanted to say that I—oh hey, the gloves are off, huh?” Peter notes.

I double back and notice how uncovered I am. Compared to how Peter saw me covered head to toe, my arms and legs are now relatively bare as I sit across from him cross legged on my bed. In embarrassment I redden slightly, but notice that Peter’s shirt is tucked in a tad awkwardly into his shorts in one spot. The boy must have rushed to change before knocking on my door. Rushed… Rush. Hilarious. I wonder for a moment what Peter in a superspeed rush looks like. Must be a complete blur if at all visible. I retort in snark, “I mean, yeah, If I was in a t-shirt and shorts but still had the gloves on, I think the purpose would be sort of defeated.”

“Good point. I’m not complaining about the view, though,” he smirks, but quite immediately, it drops and he smacks himself in the forehead and buries his fingers into his silver hair. “Fuck, sorry. I need to stop. That’s literally what I came in here to apologise for. I dunno why but I can't help myself from fl—uh, I mean, teasing you.”

I blink. So apparently he was flirting. Does that mean anything? Was it just playful? What are the consequences? What is he thinking? How is he feeling? What are his feelings? Yeah, this is mint. Absolutely sound. Very much so. I am, at this moment, the pinnacle of calm. I’m merciful enough to spare him the embarrassment by harping on it, despite my own nerves. “It’s fine, Peter. It really is. It was alright! I was just a little bit thrown off because I wasn’t expecting it, but I didn’t mind.”

“No, no, it’s not alright. You’ve been so fun and nice to talk to and we were laughing and being honest and all that, and I just… God, I dunno. I’m sorry man, it wasn’t cool o’ me,” he purses his lips. “I’m really sorry. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable. I wanna be friends and I don’t want whatever bullshit I pulled earlier to ruin that before we even actually get to know each other.”

Frowning, I tilt my head. “Peter, you asked me if I was alright—you didn’t overstep in the slightest. Additionally, we both admitted we could be really open with each other. I think it’s safe to say we’re friends. I genuinely don’t know what you’re on about ‘ruining’ anything, mate.”

Almost as if he’s deflating, he breathes a sigh of relief. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that. Friends?” He extends his hand out towards me from his chair. I whip around and grab my new gloves, I slide them on shivering with the influx of information, and I take his hand in mine.

“Most definitely,” I grin, and he does the same back at me. Barely noticeable is the whisper in the back of my mind wondering if friends are all we’ll ever be.

══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══

I love this

Tension

Pairing: Danny Rand x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of injuries

Word Count: 4.5K

Summary: What happens when Iron Fist takes an interest in an undercover agent? (I’m so bad at summaries and Titles please forgive me)

A/N: This has been sitting incompleted in my drafts for like months and I finally got the energy and ideas to finish it. I feel accomplished.

It made sense that you and Danny never crossed paths. You were just a S.H.I.E.L.D agent and he was part of the superhero program. Even though you were similar in age, you didn’t attend the same school and you had no skills in common so you never saw each other during training.

You were born into being a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, growing up on the Helicarrier and training your entire life to be an undercover agent. You spent your days with different names and different personas, gathering intel and you were more skilled using weapons and gadgets than actual hand-to-hand combat, while he was parading around the city in a spandex suit.

You, of course, had heard of him but only by the name Iron Fist, and you had never seen him in person.

And it would have remained that way if you hadn’t gotten shot on your last mission. Even though it missed anything vital and the surgery had been a success, you were still told not to do anything that might agitate it for the next 3 months.

So, that was how you got transferred from the undercover agent assignments to team strategist department.

“But I don’t want to be in strategies!” You complained, stubbornly following Fury around the Helicarrier as he desperately tried to get away from you.

“Strategies is for boring people! Like Coulson!” You shouted ignoring Coulson’s offended ‘Hey!’, practically throwing a tantrum in the middle of the training room.

“And more importantly, you gave my assignment to that bitch, Lia?! I’ve been gathering contacts for that mission for around a year and you want me to just hand it over to that lazy piece of shit who would rub it in my face even if she never did anything for the mission?!”

That finally made Fury turn around to face you and you sighed in relief, hoping he would at least listen to you.

“Agent Coulson, make sure that every time (Y/N) swears, 50 bucks is cut down from this month’s pay check.”

You threw him a foul glare.

“You will be transferred to strategies in a week—”

“But I don’t want to—”

“Under the superhero programme—”

“Those pyjama freaks—?!”

“End. Of. Discussion.”

You glared at him so coldly, it could have frozen hell over. Your nails were digging painfully into the palm of your hand but you barely felt it through your anger.

You practically growled, pulling out a 50-dollar bill from your pocket and slamming it onto Coulson’s desk.

“MOTHER F—”

***

The first time you met a member of the team wasn’t one that you had expected. It was a month and a half into your recovery and you had written numerous mission reports on behalf of them and reset the programming of their training bots after each practice session but you still hadn’t met any of them.

The time you were taking to recover was driving you crazy. It made you feel weak. 2 months ago, you were in Barcelona, undercover as an underaged bartender for a mafia gang and now you were going to physiotherapy every week.

Since you were young and Fury didn’t want to take the change of you permanently injuring yourself, he was being very strict about what you could do, he basically confined you to a desk job for the next 2 months.

It was driving you mad.

So, one day when everyone was asleep, you snuck into the training area to practice shooting which you were sure had gone a little rusty since the accident. Nothing a little practice couldn’t help.

You picked up your favourite gun, smiling at the familiarity in your hand, loading it and clicking the safety off before pointing at the target and shooting.

The next thing you felt was excruciating pain. So painful that you were on the floor, pressing your forehead against the cold metal, wondering why this was happening to you.

The rebound of the gun had been too powerful for your arm to take. You felt your injury pull suddenly and you couldn’t think of anything other than the blinding pain as you cried on the floor. Feeling utterly helpless.

“Hello?”

You started, teary eyes getting wide at the sight of a blonde by the door. You had to wipe your eyes for your vision to focus, grunting in pain as you raised your arms again.

You recognized Iron Fist. You had been seeing footage of him and his team members for the last few weeks and writing mission reports about him but seeing him in person was a different feeling.

You hid your face, pulling your knees to your chest, hoping he would leave.

“I heard a gunshot.”

“Yeah,” Your voice cracked embarrassingly, “That was me.” 

“Everything alright?” He came closer to you, standing a foot away from you and you shook your head no.

In all honesty, you wanted to get off the floor and go back to bed, but your arm burned so painfully you were scared to move it again.

“Here, let me help.”

You froze, but still let him raise his hand towards you. You saw his palm light up before he pressed it to your shoulder and you whimpered, shuffling away from him but he continued to apply a gentle pressure.

Soon you felt the pain get better, it slowly reduced to a dull buzz.

“H-How did you do that?” You asked, turning to him with wide eyes and he chuckled, seeing the childish wonderment. You clearly had never seen him in person before even if he had seen you.

Danny noticed you the day he had joined S.H.I.E.L.D. You were returning from yet another mission and the soft blue dress you were wearing among armoured soldiers was hard to miss when he passed the debriefing room. Immediately, he stopped to peer inside.

The contrast between the soft summer dress and your cold, professional expressions sent a shiver down his spine. You looked so untouchable. However, he noticed the blush on your face when the agents complimented you and felt his heart flutter.

He had seen your road to recovery, he noticed you falling asleep at your desk every day, constantly doing work because you had nothing else to do and he wondered if it would be weird if he asked you to lunch sometime. For your sake, of course.

Looking at you curled up on the ground, he had wished he had done it sooner.

“You shouldn’t strain yourself before you’re ready.” He muttered, feeling tongue tied next to the girl he had been infatuated with from a distance.

You could only nod. This whole-time people had been telling you the same thing and you always retorted with confidence, saying that you were as good as ready to get back on the field. Never in your wildest dreams would you have thought they were right.

“I’m Iron Fist.”

“(Y/N).”

“I know.” His answer came a little too fast and had you raising a brow. Danny wished he adorned a mask to cover the whole of his face like Spiderman when he felt his cheeks becoming warm, “You write our mission reports. I’m not creepy, I swear.”

You chuckled airily, turning back to the gun that was left on the ground and you pulled it back into your hand before clicking the safety back on before chucking it across the room.

“Thanks for helping me.” 

“I’m glad I was there to help.”

***

After your first meeting, you found him approaching you more often after training. At first it was just ‘hello’s and ‘goodbyes. Then he began asking about your day and you gave him mundane responses before you were forced to ask him how his day was.

Then he started coming early before his training with a cup of tea for you, though it was sometimes juice, sometimes hot cocoa.

Then he started staying late after training and you would give him a bottle of water and complain about him being sweaty.

It was an unlikely friendship but nonetheless, you got closer as the days passed by and once you did, it didn’t take long for you to meet the rest of the team. They kept you company and you grew fond of the rest of them; however, it wasn’t the same way that you felt with Iron Fist.

Your crush on Iron Fist snuck up on you when you were least expecting it but once you realized it you couldn’t stop yourself from falling hard and deep. Still, you continued to hang out with him, pushing down the butterflies whenever he smiled and stopping yourself from grinning too wide whenever you were around him.

You tried to keep your relationship platonic, not wanting to get caught up in it because it was unprofessional. You didn’t even know his identity and you didn’t want to find out. You were afraid that once he revealed that part of his life to you there was no going back on your love for him.

So, you stayed friends, good friends.

***

“So, it all blew up in her face? Huh, I should say I’m surprised but I’m really not.” You said, sighing when Fury handed you the mission file that you had been working on for a year before handing it off to another agent.

“You get to relieve her of her duties and start working again. Effective as of next week.”

You were grinning now. The doctor had given you the all clear a month ago and you had been waiting for a mission to be handed off to you but it had been a quiet month, with no need for undercover or even recon missions.

To get back the mission that you lost when you got shot seemed like the best one to start off again, and you thought your day couldn’t get any better but it seemed like you were having an incredibly good day.

As soon as you exited the room, there stood Iron Fist in all his glory and your excitement got better of you. You bolted right into his arms, catching him off guard with a hug.

“Woah, did something happen?” He asked curiously but still wrapped his arms around you to return the hug. You pulled away, flashing him the mission file in your hand and grinned brightly.

“I finally got cleared for a mission!”

“Congratulations!”

“Thank you! I’m so excited! I have to go and prepare right away!”

“Wha—Right now?” He asked and you nodded frantically, “I’m off in about a week, lots to prepare before that.”

“Well, how long is it going to take?”

“Not sure, oooh, maybe I’ll get relocated someplace cool like Dubai or India or something.”

He didn’t seem to share your enthusiasm but just chuckled in a dejected sort of manner before nodding his head, “Maybe.”

***

“Partner? Fury, I don’t do partners. I am a single lady and would like to stay that way.”

He just sighed, used to your temper tantrums. Though he was honestly wishing he had a mute button on you. You were like the daughter he never wanted. Usually, he maintained a professional relationship with all the other agents but you were like the gem of the department.

Being one of the youngest and most capable of the agents was a reason for many of the older ones to fawn over you. I mean let’s be honest, a baby who can kick ass was adorable!

That always made you more outrageous than the other agents, letting yourself have the temper tantrums and choosing not to be a stiff, boring agent. You knew just how to push Fury to get what you wanted.

“The mission is to go to a socialite party and while you have the skills, you don’t have the contact.”

“That hasn’t stopped me before—”

“We need someone that has the last name to get you in. Besides, after last time, another agent looking after you wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

Your face fell and Fury knew he made a mistake in choosing his words. Your lip quivered slightly and he heard an agent tut disapprovingly at him and mentally sighed.

“That wasn’t my fault…” You said softly, your voice seemed thick and he knew one wrong move could possibly break the floodgate. He sighed, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, “I know that. But we just want you to be safe. Just in case something goes wrong again, so this time somebody can have your back.”

You nodded sadly, lips in a small pout and eyebrows furrowed. Somewhere in the background he heard another agent whispering to another that Fury was trying to make you cry and felt his eye twitch.

“No one blames you for what happened.”

You nodded wordlessly again, still frowning.

“Tell you what, because it’s your first mission back, you get a higher budget for it.” That was it. Your face brightened like the sun and you giggled childishly, sending him a mischievous smirk as you thanked him.

You disappeared before he could even scold you and Fury then heard the rest of the agents burst into laughter about how you managed to play him.

Again.

***

“Daniel Rand.” You mumbled, looking over the case file. Apparently, he would be your partner for today but it was odd that you never heard of him before. It took you a very short time going through the S.H.I.E.L.D. database to find his name.

‘Daniel Rand, a.k.a. Iron Fist.’

‘WHAT?!’

Daniel Rand? The blond aristocrat that looked like he was picked out of your wildest dreams. With a face that could break hearts and make knees weak, was the confidant and friend that you had been crushing on for weeks now?

Wow, he definitely had a face to match.

Without realizing, you had been staring at his picture for about 5 minutes, fawning over his sharp jaw and deep green eyes with a ridiculous love-sick smile on your face, with your heart fluttering in your chest.

‘God, please, like me.’ You said in your head. So far you had sort of a flirtationship going on with Iron Fist but you wondered if it was the same for Danny. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would intentionally lead you on, but now that you were seeing his face, you realized just how little you knew about him.

He probably had a life of his own and you took up only a sliver of it. Being an agent, you didn’t leave the Helicarrier very often, and you certainly didn’t have too many very friends. You never really realized how much you were missing until you got shot.

Iron Fist, well Daniel, filled the void you felt during your time off but it was also very possible that he didn’t feel the same way, that you were just someone he spent time with to get over his boredom.

Maybe tonight would be the time to change that.

The mission was supposed to take place today, so you woke up bright and early to finish up some things. Go over case files, do a weapon check and pick out your outfit. You were supposed to wear something that would catch people’s attention. And in the back of your head, you also wanted to blow Daniel’s mind right out of his skull.

Red seemed like it would make a statement. So would a bodycon, or maybe a long dress with a high slit. You wanted to go all out for your first mission in months. Maybe even get a few jaw drops.

Finally deciding on an outfit, you quickly texted Daniel.

‘Wear (F/C).’

***

“This guy is coming right?” You asked, bored. You had been ready for about 15 minutes now, looking like you were dripping diamonds and lounging comfortably in Fury’s seat, with your legs thrown over the armrest.

“He’ll be here any minute now.” Said Coulson, checking his phone.

You rolled your eyes, “Why do I feel like this is one of those movie moments where the girl comes down the stairs and the guy is just staring at her with a jaw drop. Or like when the bride walks down the aisle and the groom bursts into tears.”

You sighed, checking your watch again. 20 minutes.

“For someone making me wait this long, he better be so good looking that it makes me cry.”

“Well, I hope I don’t disappoint.”

The new voice certainly turned a few heads and there stood Daniel Rand. The pictures online really did him no justice. Sure, you didn’t cry, but your eyes definitely didn’t feel worthy to be looking something so pretty in the eye.

Before you could help it, a ‘wow’ slipped past your lips and he blushed, having heard you. Wow, he was cute inside and out. Unfortunately, Coulson had to come in where he wasn’t wanted and suggested a quick briefing which you had to agree to.

In the middle of the briefing, Coulson handed you a ring box and you raised a brow, “I’m a little young for you, don’t you think?”

He let out an irritated sigh but you noticed the tips of his ears turn red from embarrassment, “You’re posing as his fiancé. You need an engagement ring to match.”

“Shouldn’t he be getting on his knee then?” You joked, gaping at the size of the diamond for a second before slipping it on, completely missing the way Danny got redder at your teasing, “Wow, it suits me so well one would think I was made to be a socialite’s fiancé.”

Danny didn’t say anything and you brushed it off, putting him off as the shy but cute bookworm who would come through in a difficult situation. As soon as the thought came to mind, you facepalmed. All it took was one good looking guy to mess up your work habits.

“Well, come on honey, we have a party to get to.” You called out teasingly and handed him the keys to the car before strutting to the garages.

Coulson clapped him on the back with a small smirk on his face, “Good luck, honey.”

***

It didn’t take much effort to meet your contact in the party and you quickly left Danny’s side to discreetly to get any information he could pass to you. You quietly chatted with the contact.

Behind you, you vaguely heard a bunch of girls flock around him, giggling shrilly and trying to flirt with him. You resisted rolling your eyes. You had on an engagement ring but Danny’s finger was still bare and even though he might have announced being taken to them, apparently it was necessary for a ring to show his commitment. Something told you that even if he got it tattooed on his forehead, people would still try to flirt with him.

He just had one of those faces. Those faces that made people lose all reason. I mean, you’re slightly annoyed at the girls that have no moral and are shamelessly throwing themselves at him. But really, can you blame them?

Danny was gorgeous. He looked like a Greek Adonis that was sent down from the heavens to grace your eyes. Honestly, you couldn’t take your eyes off him while the two of you were driving down to the party.

Seeing them get handsy was more irritating than It usually would be. As annoying as it was to see these women through all their morals out the window and try and get a taken man to reciprocate their advances, it was more annoying to see them gawk over the guy you were crushing on.

A part of you wanted to just leave him in the car and not have anybody look at him.

But to keep your crush a secret, you maintained your distance from him, talking to the contact in a mixture of different languages so no one would be able to understand. Once you were done, you opted for getting a drink until you saw the pleading look on his face and almost felt bad.

So, you sauntered over to him, cutting right through the throng of girls, disgusted to see that some of them had wedding rings on, right to Danny’s side, snaking an arm around his waist and placing your hand underneath on his chest, giving him a sweet smile.

The shiny engagement ring on your finger caught their attention and they frowned, reminded that they were allowed to look, but not to touch.

“I hope you didn’t miss me too much.” You said, syrupy sweet and loud enough for the girls to hear before turning to them with a charming smile, “I hope my fiancé wasn’t too short with you girls today, he’s very stressed lately, with the wedding planning and all.”

Their faces fell further when you leaned into him and they could all recognize the possessive glint in your eyes. A look that said, I saw you trying to get your hands on something that was mine, you vultures.

The left you two quickly after that, resorting to go gossip in some corner. You wondered if they were snivelling about you but then realized that you shouldn’t be too cocky.

Instead, you turned your unamused gaze to your ‘fiancé’, pulling away from him with a frown.

“I’m assuming that you haven’t come here to flirt with someone else’s wife.”

“I wasn’t flirting though…” He replied innocently and you pursed your lips, resisting the urge to scowl at him. Instead, you just sighed and turned away from him, keeping an eye on the rest of the guests.

If what you were told is true, then someone is going to attempt an assassination on your contact and it was your job to protect him. However, you were distracted once more when he placed a hand on your waist.

You meant to turn around and ask him what he was doing but his grip was strong and he then pressed his lips to your ear. You froze, neck getting uncomfortably hot.

“At the entrance to the foyer.” He mumbled, looking into the mirror that was facing the entrance. Sure, enough you saw it too, the glint that came from the shadows. Someone was there.

The two of you still managed to stay inconspicuous, pretending like you were a couple in love. You turned to him with a smirk, hand going to your thigh where a gun was holstered.

“What do you say about getting out of here?”

With a hand around your waist, he led you to the other end of the room. Just as you expected, a waiter came up to you, trying to guide you elsewhere and you realized that both exits were covered. Grinning up at him, you asked him where the restroom was, giggling in a way that suggested something and he showed you up to the staircase to a hallway. 

Some of the older couples gave you knowing smiles while some of them passed disgusted glances as you made your way to the bathroom that for some reason had a couch in it. Damn, rich people.

You pulled up a schematic of the house, along with security cameras and looked figured out that each one of the exits were covered. Quickly making a plan with Danny, the two of you were about to exit again when you stopped him

You reached up and raked your fingers through his hair, dishevelling it a little before messing up his collar and slightly untucking his shirt. Taking a step back to admire your handiwork, you stopped for a second.

Something was missing.

It quickly occurred to you and you used your thumb to ruin your lipstick a little before smearing it at the base of his neck, “That should be convincing enough. Don’t you think?”

You didn’t give him a moment to answer, not that he even could, with you so close that he could smell your perfume and the scent made him feel dizzy. You pulled away to mess up your own hair and dress.

“How do I look?”

“Dishevelled.”

“Excellent.”

***

“Mission successful, assassination attempt was unsuccessful, contact is safe and being placed into witness protection, assassinators are in custody for questioning. Report 291220. Agent 290803. Phase Beta successful.” You reported into the com set.

Danny was quiet beside you, choosing to pay attention to the road while you deactivated your gadgets for the night. A quick glance from the corner of your eyes made your heart speed up just a little. He was doing that thing where he drove with just one arm.

“You know…” You started, clicking the safety on your gun, avoiding his eyes, “We don’t have to go back to HQ right now? We can get some dinner or something? In the mood for a veggie burger?”

“Is this meant to be platonic?”

“It’s meant to be a date.” You commented. His jaw tightened slightly and you raised a brow at him, did you really make him so uncomfortable?

“I thought you were in a relationship.”

“What?”

“Iron Fist. You like him, don’t you?”

An amused chuckle left you. Of course. He didn’t know you were aware of his secret. Resisting the urge to laugh at him, you shot him a smirk, leaning against your arm.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Danny’s hands tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. He didn’t look at you, instead staring at the road with a steely gaze and for a second you wondered if you shouldn’t have pushed him.

“It’s a little hypocritical of you to nag me for not being loyal in a fake engagement and then going behind Iron Fist’s back, don’t you think?”

His voice was tight and he was gritting his teeth as he talked to you. You sighed, not wanting to upset him, “Not when you’re the same person.”

He jerked.

“Woah! Drive straight dude!”

“You knew?”

You snorted, “Pretty much, yeah. And since when are we in a relationship? I don’t remember you ever asking me out?”

His cheeks coloured, embarrassed and he looked away from your gaze, “I was planning to.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You continued in a comfortable silence while he drove. You weren’t really paying attention to where he was driving, choosing to look at him with a small smile. He really was beautiful. Judging by his red ears, he was well aware of your staring.

Eventually, he pulled into a parking space and you were mildly surprised to see he had driven you to a McDonalds. You grinned at him and he returned the smile, getting out of the car to open your door before taking your hand.

“You owe me a date.”

You sent him a soft smile, curling your finger underneath his chin before pulling him in for a gentle kiss. He returned it immediately, slightly pushing you onto the car door and gripping your hips. You pulled away, giggling when you realized some of your lipstick was now staining his.

Chuckling, you leaned up until your lips were brushing against his ear, “Hey genius, you still haven’t asked me out yet.”

Forever Taglist: @simonsbluee

USM Taglist: @imcarolinashannon

Don’t hide your face from me under that mask, with which you hid your sadness from everyone for a long time.

Everything is fine, everything is fine, do not be afraid that there will be no smile. Now you will not be able to tell me a lie anymore...

(Song Pierrot Rus Cover by Radiant Records)

Xavier came home ⭐️

𝙲𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝙲𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝙳𝚘𝚎𝚜

Tags: fluff, cute shit Cove does, ooc cove slightly?

Synopsis: basically, Cove doing things that gets you flustered and fall in love with him deeper

Word Count: 1073

Characters: Cove x GN! Reader

Leaning over and buckling your seatbelt

▸Cove huffs whenever you forget to buckle yourself in. Of course, he’s not upset, in fact he loves leaning over and doing it for you. Totally not using that as a reason to steal a smooch from you. 

▸He also cares about safety; anything can happen, and he doesn’t want to see you hurt. Like what if a helicopter suddenly falls on top of your car? Or what if he breaks too hard and you fly out the window?? 

▸He always makes sure you’re buckled in first before he does so himself and starts the car. Even if you’re in a rush. Safety first! 

▸And he totally doesn’t grumble in displeasure whenever you beat him in buckling your seatbelt first. 

“I wanted to buckle you in… what? I didn’t say anything?”

Zipping up your jacket

▸Whenever you both decide to go out whenever it’s cold, you always toss on a jacket and not zip it up. Cove will and aways zip it up for you, not caring of your whining.

▸He doesn’t want you to get sick! If you do, he won’t be able to kiss you until you feel better and even though he has good patience, he doesn’t want to wait too long. 

▸And once he reaches the maximum level, he just dives in and smothers you in kisses despite your protests, next thing you know, you’re both sick. 

▸But hey! What’s a better time to spend with your partner than being sick together? He doesn’t care if he misses work, he’s happy enough to spend this time with you. 

▸Unfortunately, you can’t be angry with him for too long because look at that face! He’s really sorry but he’ll make it up to you once you both get better. 

“I’m sorry (Name) for not listening... But at least we get to be sick together!” 

Holding your hand before crossing the street

▸Again, a safety thing, but he loves holding your hand and uses this as an excuse to hold yours. And to show off to others that ‘hey look! we’re holding hands so that means we’re dating! so back off!’. Especially in front of the cars you’re walking past, Cove giving the poor drivers a scare from his intense staring.

▸Y'know that one Tik Tok audio clip from Chowder that basically goes like “Hold my hand NOW”. Yeah, that’s Cove, but he would never yell or use force on you to hold his hand. He instead pouts and gives you the puppy look so you can hold his hand.  Which you do because he looks adorable.

▸Always, without missing a beat, always kisses your hand. He loves bringing up your intertwined hands to his lips and plant a kiss, letting his lips linger for a bit before bringing your hands down and swinging them gently, a skip in his step. 

▸The warmth seeping from your palms brings Cove a sense of calmness. Just being near you calms his mind from any negative thoughts that spring up randomly. 

“Oh, we’re about to cross the street, (Name)! Hold my hand before we cross!” 

Tying your shoes

▸Sometimes we leave the house in a rush and forget the most important thing. Tying our shoes! But with our trusty boyfriend, Cove, he always does it for you! He would stop you, kneel down and tap his knee, signaling you to put your foot on it so he could tie your shoes properly. 

▸He always checks if you tie your shoes or not. Cove doesn’t want you to trip and fall for other people. See what I did there?? No? Okay anyway if you do fall for some reason, he’ll be there to sweep you off your feet. 

▸Whenever he finishes tying your shoes, Cove would stand back up and look into your eyes with a shiny smile. You question him and he points at his cheek, blue eyes shining even brighter. 

▸He wants a reward from saving you from any falls you could’ve had in the future! Cove wants a kiss. From you. Either on the lips or cheek, he’s not a picky person. 

“Here, let me tie your shoes for you.”

Always offering you food

▸Even though Cove loves shoving food in his mouth and swallowing it in one go, he never forgets to offer you some. Doesn’t matter if the snack is small and it’s not enough to feed two people, Cove will walk over and ask if you want a bite.

▸If you offer him food, he’ll be floored and open his mouth as you spoon feed him your meal. He’ll be happy with whatever you feed him a tiny crumb, a vegetable he doesn’t like, reluctantly, he’ll eat that.

▸Drinks! Drinks are included in the equation. 

▸Even though Cove wants to sip on the refreshing slurpy, he will make sure you have the first zip without fail. 

▸Cove blushes at the thought of the indirect kiss whenever you put your lips on any of his utensils he eats with. Even though y’all are already dating. He still gets flutters from you. 

“Want a bite, (Name)?”

Forehead goodbye kisses 

▸Whenever you or Cove are running late or have to leave for a few hours, Cove will pull you towards him and plant a kiss on your forehead.

▸Has become a routine for you both to never leave without you receiving Cove’s kiss before heading out to work. Honestly, it’s the best way to start off the day and he hopes that it never changes.

▸But when you’re in a rush, you sometimes forget to receive that kiss and that brings down Cove’s morning. He pouts and waits for you to return so you can pepper your face with kisses to make up for the one you missed in the morning. 

▸You’re sorry but you can’t complain from the kiss onslaught so it’s a win-win

“Oh, you’re leaving right now? Let me kiss your forehead!” 

“I miss you...” texts throughout the day

▸This kinda goes with the ‘goodbye kisses’ 

▸Cove texts you throughout the day that he misses you. He sends one not even a minute of you leaving the house you both lived in. 

▸He’ll send a text saying that he ‘craves to cuddle you’ when you leave to take a shit. 

▸It’s really cute until he starts spamming you while you’re in a meeting, your embarrassed face sputtering out apologies towards your workers. 

“Heyy, i miss u :(“ 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

A/N: Heyy ya'll I got another one for you hehe but I kinda rushed at the end because its late and im tired

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