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toomuchracket · 2 months

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it's only been a year (birthday party matty x reader fluff)

surprise! happy 1st anniversary of the blog, and therefore to these fuckers. love you all. enjoy <3

matty’s so glad you're here.

not that he doesn't love his job, because he really, really does - and, to be honest, playing music for lovely people with his best friends has never felt like a proper shift to him - but the touring sparkle is starting to fade a bit now. it's been nonstop for almost two years, the end of this album cycle is in sight, and, as much as he hates to admit it, he's not as young as he once was. the tiredness catches up to him faster, because the adrenaline doesn't last as long, and all the dancing around is taking a bit more of a toll on his body than it used to (which reminds him: put the knee support on before travelling tomorrow). what used to be hours-long hedonistic afterparties have turned into staying backstage for a couple of drinks at most, before hurrying to the hotel for a hot shower to soothe the muscles in the voice and the rest of the body, and then getting as much sleep as possible. arguably, not particularly rock'n’roll, nor very exciting.

but you're here. at the shows, on the planes and trains and buses, and, currently, cueing up an episode of derry girls from the bed in matty's (well, both of your) hotel room. and because you are, the sparkle is still there, still glimmering away like glitter under strobe lights. he's not in the habit of quoting or relating to abba songs (although it's been happening more often recently, probably because of your love for mamma mia), but matty thinks they hit the nail on the head in super trouper - he truly cannot be sad knowing you're in the crowd, seeing you dance along to his songs and smile at him like he hung the moon.

wrapping the towel around his waist, matty steps out of the bathroom, and immediately smiles (probably gormlessly) at the sight of you, frowning cutely as you try to get netflix to load; his heart melts when you push up your glasses, then turn to beam at him when you catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye. “hi, baby. how you feeling?”

“tired,” matty sighs, smiling again when you climb off the bed and peck him on the lips, before tugging him into a cuddle. he hums. “thanks, sweetheart.”

“s'ok,” you press a kiss to his chest tattoo, a move so tender that it never fails to weaken his knees. “d'you want me to make you a hot chocolate while you get ready for bed?”

matty pulls back to look at you, brow furrowed. “we have hot chocolate?”

“there's a setting for it on the coffee machine.”

“there is? i didn't notice.”

“yeah, it's in french.”

“oh,” matty laughs, kissing your head. “this is really a recurring thing for us, isn't it? you keeping me right with drinks in europe because you're the only one of us who can speak french. thank god you were a pretentious teenager, darling.”

you blink at him. “you're taking the piss out of me for being a pretentious teenager?”

“well, i’m not the one who learnt another language so i could read the original text of les mis,” matty smirks. “how's that going, by the way?”

your face takes on the adorably bashful expression matty loves so much. “haven't even finished it in english yet,” you say, before crumbling into laughter that matty can't help joining in on - fuck, he loves you so much. when he tells you as much, you kiss him again. “i love you, too. now - hot choc, or no?”

“i'll take one, please, darling.”

“okay,” you kiss his nose, beaming at the way he scrunches it when you do. “can you see if you can get netflix to work once you're dressed, please, babe?”

“course, darling.”

“thank you, lover.”

there's a final kiss, then you let go of matty and wander to the coffee machine; as silly as it sounds, because you're only about three feet away from him, he misses you as soon as you leave his arms. having you in them, being in yours… that's matty's favourite thing in the world, and he'd gladly sacrifice most other things in life to have it for five minutes longer every morning and night, ten more minutes per day of him just being yours and you just being his.

although, looking at you now, it's so clear that those things are true even without him holding you - the hoodie you're wearing is an old one of his (that honestly looks better on you), the boxers you're wearing as pyjama shorts are his, and he's preeeeetty sure the overly-long nike sports socks you're wandering around in are also his. he gives parts of himself to you, and you accept them gladly, proudly displaying that you're completely his; in heart and mind and soul, too, not just in wardrobe.

he still can't get over that. he doesn't think he ever will.

once he's dressed (clothes warm, because you were sweet enough to put them on the radiator for him) and the tv has loaded properly, matty settles into bed, beaming at you as you wander over with his drink and giggling when you place it on the bedside table and just crawl over him to get to your side of the bed. he kisses the side of your head as you snuggle into him. “you're not having one, darling?”

“nah,” you let out a world-weary sigh. “i've had far too much chocolate today as is. remind me never to agree to going to a gig in switzerland ever again. s'awful for my digestion.”

matty laughs. “or you could just, you know, not eat chocolate.”

you frown adorably at him. he laughs again. “or not.”

“thank you,” your face softens. “s'good, though. try the hot chocolate, see for yourself.”

“right,” matty takes a sip, humming happily at the rich sweetness. “mhmm. yeah.”

“amazing, isn't it?”

he nods, swallowing, then grins. “nowhere near as sweet as you, though.”

“oh, you sap!” you roll your eyes, tucking your face into matty’s chest in mild embarrassment while he giggles; he can feel you smiling through his t-shirt, though. “put the telly on, i can't cope.”

he obliges, free hand coming up to stroke your hair as you watch the episode in relative calm - that is, aside from the two of you constantly laughing at the onscreen antics, and from you covering matty's mouth in an attempt to stop him doing his god-awful impression of a northern irish accent. the whole experience is really domestic, as sweet as the hot chocolate matty finished ten minutes into the episode, the perfect end to a busy work day.

matty stretches when the episode ends, moving to wrap his arms around your waist and rest his head on your chest. “time is it, sweetheart?”

“ten past midnight,” you yawn; suddenly, though, you perk up. “oh! happy anniversary, baby!”

he smiles into your chest, dragging himself up to hover over you. “happy anniversary, my girl,” he coos, thumbs stroking your pretty face. “i love you.”

“i love you,” you smile. “kiss, please?”

matty nods, leaning down to press his lips to yours; on instinct, you open your mouth as soon as he does, soundtracked by a sigh that makes his head spin. even now, a year on from it, every kiss you share feels like the very first one up against the wall in the smoking area, full of passion and adrenaline and just total love and devotion that you'd both kept buried for each other for years. the only difference is that now, 365 days on, you know exactly how to kiss matty to make him melt - a moan slips from his throat as you softly swipe your tongue around the perimeter of his lips, which in turn makes you smile, and another follows when you gently bite his lower lip and drag it to release. but it's the way you beam at him afterwards, breathing just as heavily as he is, that gets matty most, makes him hug you as tightly as he can and press little kisses all over your face and hair and get you giggling (his favourite sound in the world).

once you've both caught your breath, kissed some more, and caught your breath again, you speak. “d'you want your anniversary present now, baby?”

matty grins. “yeah. you want yours?”

“yeah,” you beam. reaching across to your bedside table, you take out a little wrapped gift and hand it to him. “for you.”

“thank you, sweet girl,” matty kisses your forehead, rolling off you to pull a thin box from his bag at the side of the bed. “for you.”

“thanks, darling,” you kiss him softly. “go on, you open yours first.”

“alright,” matty carefully rips the brown paper - after smiling, lovesick, at for the love of my life written on it in your unmistakable handwriting - to find what looks like a zine, small enough to fit in his back pocket. he laughs in slight shock at the cover, displaying both of your first initials in a heart and subtitled year one, and this continues when he flicks through the pages. the very first has a picture of the two of you at that fateful birthday party, taken by a friend across the table, as well as one of the receipt for dinner, with little hearts drawn on either side of the listing for your favourite wine; the next, a short typed-out musing ‘written on matty's couch. he's in love with me. he knows i'm in love with him. i've never been so happy in my life. i fell asleep thinking my heart might burst, and that feeling hasn't left me at all. this is true love. i know it now’.

flicking through the pages - he so badly wants to spend time poring over every single one, but he knows now isn't the time - matty feels the exact same way. you've always been shockingly good at gift-giving when it comes to him, but this… this is the best thing anyone's ever done for him.

he doesn't even think love is a strong enough word to describe how he feels about you, to be honest.

you smile when he tells you as much, lifting his hand to kiss it. “i'm glad you like it, baby. i had a lot of fun compiling everything. it was just constant reminders of how much i love you - although, i agree, it's not a strong enough word. maybe i should come up with an alternative. like how coleridge did with soulmate.”

“thank fuck he did, by the way,” matty sighs, leaning in to kiss you. “what would i call you otherwise?”

“i'm sure you'd figure it out. you're very good with words.”

“not when it comes to you, darling,” he smiles. “and that's actually relevant to your gift, so…”

“point taken,” you wink, lifting the lid. your beautiful face takes on a confused expression as you lift out a thin, a3-sized hardback book. “this looks like one of your lyric books from stage…”

“it does, a bit, yeah.”

“...and it has my name on the front,” your jaw drops, and you open the book so frantically that matty can't help but giggle; he laughs even harder when you look up at him, aghast. “this is a score. you wrote me a song?”

“kind of, sweetheart. i mean, i've written you lots of songs already-”

“but none explicitly with my name!”

“no, that's true,” matty moves to sit behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. he feels you relax immediately, which is good, because for a second he thought you were about to go into genuine shock. “and this one is slightly different in another way, too.”

“it is?”

“yeah. look - there aren't any lyrics,” he takes your hand in his own, dragging your finger over the score to show blankness where the words would appear over the stave. “when i said a minute ago that i wasn't good with words when it comes to you, i mean it. you're literally the only person in the world that can render me speechless; trying to concisely convey everything i love about you in words that 1) made sense and 2) worked in a song was impossible. so i figured i would just let the music do the talking,” matty kisses your head. “no lyrics, parts for almost a full orchestra plus the instruments i'm used to writing for… this isn't a song, darling, it's a symphony, the one that plays in my head whenever i think about you.”

“matthew,” your voice is shaky when you say his name; when you turn to look at him, he notices your jaw is too, the telltale sign that you're about to burst into tears. “i think you're absolutely fucking mental. and i love you, i love you, i love you,” your voice cracks into a sob on the last you, and you bury your face in your boyfriend's neck while you cry. “that's the most romantic thing anyone could do, i think, and you did it for me. what the fuck!”

matty giggles, caressing your back and kissing your head soothingly. “s'the least i could do, really.”

“oh, shut up.”

“alright,” he coaxes you out of hiding, wiping your tears away and kissing your nose. “i'll play it for you when we get to a piano tomorrow, yeah?”

“i'd like that,” you peck his lips. “thank you, my love.”

“you're welcome, darling. and thank you for the little zine about us - can't wait to read that tomorrow, too.”

you nod happily - suddenly, your eyes widen. “wait! that reminds me: i got you something else too. and i want us to use them tomorrow.”

“let's see, then,” matty sits up in anticipation, but almost immediately slumps back down exasperatedly when he sees the rolling papers in your hand. “baby…”

“what? it's on-theme!” you grin. “it’s paper! the thing you're meant to give and get to celebrate a first anniversary. and, let's be serious, it was me wanting to smoke that got us here, wasn't it?”

“you’re incorrigible, sweetheart,” matty shakes his head, hand tracing patterns into your thigh; he can't help but smile, though. “but alright - tomorrow, at some point, we'll smoke.”

“promise?”

“for fuck's sake,” he sighs. “i promise, even though i think you're demented.”

you beam. “thanks. i love you!”

“i love you, too, darling.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #into the birthday partyverse #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

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thewulf · 11 months

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Honeybee || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: hi! Can you write a hotch x reader one shot based on the episode where Hayley’s dad says he still hates Hotch for Hayley’s death in s10 and obviously his words hurt Hotch and hotch then is like obviously really sad and hurt and pulls away from reader unintentionally which starts a argument but with fluff at the end? Like angst / fluff

A/N: Okay this def turned more into a comfort/fluff rather than super angsty/fluff... hope you still like it anon :)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Y/N

Word Count: 3.1k +

Your phone buzzed on the desk that you were working away at. Not thinking much of it you turned it over seeing Aaron’s name flashing on the screen. Heart sinking down your chest you knew it was never a good thing when he called during the middle of a workday. Was it Jack? Was he hurt? Was it Jessica? Does she need some time away from the whole situation? Before you could spiral any further you answered nervously, “Aaron…” Trailing off you didn’t know what to say. You knew what you were getting into when you happily agreed to be his girlfriend six months ago. But these calls still made you nervous.

“Honey… slight change of plans.” You knew he was supposed to be on a flight to Maryland right now working on the next case. He was definitely not supposed to be on the phone with you in what sounded to be like his vehicle.

“Everything alright?” Hesitating to even ask the question you could hear the tension in his voice.

He paused. Everything was certainly not alright, “It’s Roy. Haley’s father. He’s in the hospital. He was arrested for trying to break and enter into a store this morning. Doctors think it’s Alzheimer’s. Jessica needs some help.” He alluded to why he wasn’t on the teams jet to Maryland.

Your heart absolutely broke for the man you’d slowly fallen in love with. He’d been through so much in the last few years and now this? It’s like life was out to get him and couldn’t be stopped, “Oh, my love, I’m so sorry.” Work didn’t seem so important anymore, “Can I help at all?”

He smiled softly hearing your concern through the phone. He just knew by the tone of your voice how much you cared. You cared about everything that related to him. You always understood too. He had to cancel on countless plans on you due to work or something coming up with Jack. You always handled it in grace. He thought you were far too patient with him. And it scared him a little much. What happens when your patience runs out? Would he fuck it up with you? He hadn’t a clue how he managed to convince you to not only go out with him but stay through the shit-show that his life was unfolding out to be.

Aaron never expected for his personal life to explode in his face the way it did so dramatically. He had let the one thing he promised never to happen, happen. His work life bled into his personal one. He’d lost the mother to his son. A woman he once loved so dearly to somebody who had it out for him. It took years of counseling and therapy for Aaron to see it as anything but his fault. Then you came along. Sweeping him right off his feet. He didn’t think he was ready for a relationship, but he decided to try. Especially when he saw the look on your face when he agreed to that first date. Of course, you made the first move, it was so you.

He hated asking you for help, but he needed it desperately. He always used you as an absolute last resort. Never wanting you to feel obligated to his life’s mess, “Can you grab Jack from school? I left the car seat in the house for Jess but she’s going to be busy. I’m going to stay back and help. Team is heading off to Maryland right now.” You heard him sigh through the phone.

“You got it.” You knew the situation was tense, but you couldn’t stop the smile that now crossed your face. It was a big step getting him to accept your help. He often went out of his way to not ask you for help. He didn’t want to burden you, “Jack and I will have the best afternoon.” You said trying your best to reassure him.

“Thank you honey. I’m so sorry. I really am.” Not wanting him to spiral you decided to interrupt him.

“Don’t apologize Aaron. It’s something out of your control. I’m more than happy to help. Please don’t stress yourself out about it. Your team will handle the case in Maryland, I’ll handle Jack. You and Jess help out Roy. Okay?” Knowing you needed to lay out the plan plain and simple for him you were met with silence this time.

“Sound okay Aaron?” You asked again hoping he wasn’t too far lost in his head.

“Yeah, alright. Thank you.”

“You got it. Call me later alright? When you get the chance.”

He nodded his head knowing you couldn’t see him. He knew he needed to give in and let you help but it was hard for him. He was so used to doing everything his way. But for his sanity and Jack’s he knew he had to let you all the way in. Had to, “Sounds good bee. I love you.”

You smiled at the nickname he had given you. He’d initially just called you honey which then morphed into honeybee. That was then shorted to just bee. His bee. His favorite one. You found it adorable, no other man had been so sweet to you like he had been.

“Love you handsome. Talk to you soon.” You clicked the phone off before the inevitable back and forth. Looking at the clock you cursed a little knowing Jack’s school was 45 minutes away and he was out in about an hour. Saying a quick goodbye to your coworkers you slid out of the office an hour too early. You decided to risk it knowing the bosses wouldn’t even likely notice.

Standing outside your car you stood on your tip toes trying to spot the little Hotchner. Knowing he’d be looking for Jess and not you. Waving to him as soon as you saw him he shot you the sweetest little smile and wave before running up to you, “Y/N! You’re here!” He pulled on your shirt in excitement.

Leaning down you gave him a squeeze, “I am buddy! Your Aunt Jess had something come up, so she asked me to come get you. Hope that’s okay.” You grinned down at the overexcited little boy. You and Jack got along so well so quick. He was the happiest little kid for everything he’s had to go through in his short life.

“Yeah!” He hugged your side squeezing tight, “I’m so excited!”

He immediately released the tension you had been holding onto all day. You’d texted Aaron a few times with no response. Worry quickly consumed you by hour three of not hearing back from him. Thankfully Jack was the perfect distraction from your worrying mind, “Hey Jack? What do you say we go home. Get you changed and head to the park. Maybe get some ice cream after?” You asked him as you buckled him into the car seat.

“Are you serious?” His eye grew wide with excitement, “Can I bring my dinosaurs?”

The grin turned into a full out smile feeling his excitement through your body, “You can absolutely bring your dinosaurs to the park little J.”

“Daddy never lets me!” He started laughing knowing he caught you in a catch 22. You’d already told him he could bring them knowing it wasn’t usually allowed.

Shaking your head, you shut the door before climbing into the driver’s seat, “Well, let’s not tell daddy then.” Hearing his snicker in the back seat sent you into a fit of laughter. Who knew one so little could make you feel so much better just through the joy he brought? That was Jack Hotchner. The little light that kept shining.

“Okay!” He clapped his hands together knowing the two of you now had a secret. You knew it wasn’t a great thing for him to pick up on but what was a little white lie? That’s life.

The two of you chatted the entire way home from school and to the park. You’d learned his best friend, Dylan, had a crush on a girl that Jack thought was gross. You tried convincing him that girls weren’t gross, but he wasn’t having any of that.

Jack was too smart for his own good. He told you about how he watched the other kids and always knew what they were going to do before they seemed to know. That was all Aaron shining right through his baby. It amazed you how quickly children picked up on their environment. Jack was no exception, the sponge that he was.

Lucky for you, all the running around with dinosaur’s tired the poor kid right on out. After making him some mac and cheese for dinner he fell asleep right on your lap while watching cartoons. It all felt so right. A domestic life you craved. To be running your hands through his hair as he held on to you fast asleep.

You were woken up by the soft click of the front door. The daylight had completely vanished. Aaron turned on the kitchen lights not expecting to see you and Jack cuddling on the couch just a room away. For as awful as the day had turned out to be the sight before him made him realize it would be okay. He had the right people in his life. He had you.

His sour mood from the shitty day immediately vanishing seeing your sleepy face waking up. Your arms were holding Jack tightly as you contorted making sure he was comfortable. He noticed that. You were always making sure that Jack was okay. You always checked in on him making sure to show that his opinions mattered. He genuinely mattered to you. Just one of the things that made Aaron fall so easily in love with you.

“Hey, you’re home.” You wiped the sleep away from your eyes careful not to wake Jack up. Peeking at the clock you saw it was nearing midnight.

“I’m sorry…” He whispered walking over to the both of you quietly. You shook your head quickly placing your finger over your mouth, “Shh, no apologies needed.” Carefully you shimmied yourself out from underneath Jack. Scooping him up in your arms you went to go put him to bed. Aaron watched in awe as you took control of the situation so effortlessly. Following behind closely he wanted to make sure to tuck his son in as well. While Jack might not have remembered it Aaron cherished every night he was able to spend at home with him sleeping a few rooms away. Even if it was for just a few hours.

You watched as Aaron leaned down whispering a few words to his sleeping boy. He kissed his head softly before pulling the comforter up over top of him. You fell in love with him even further watching the tenderness of the situation before you. Sure, Aaron had his flaws. But so did you. And everyone. Everything else about him made up for the flaws.

Shutting the door behind him you followed Aaron back downstairs, “Everything alright?” You asked moving towards him. Thankfully he didn’t shy away from your touch. Sometimes after more stressful cases he just couldn’t be touched by you. It was all too much for him. You understood, it just hurt sometimes. When all you wanted was to snuggle up to him when he needed space. You caressed his arm through his suit jacket hoping he could feel it through the thick suit.

He opened his mouth as if to say something before closing it. Thinking. The man was always thinking. Overthinking all too often, “No. Not really.” He admitted.

You felt your heart racing. He was confiding in you. It wasn’t like he hadn’t before, but it was a rarity when he did. You’d find him bottling up and shoving his emotions to the side. But he needed you right now, “What happened handsome?” You pressed a little further unsure if he wanted to tell.

He smiled before gently kissing your forehead, “He’s got Alzheimer’s, clearly. Very clearly” He paused before pulling you into his chest.

As much as you loved the feeling you knew that wasn’t it, “That all?” You asked pulling your head out of the embrace.

He shook his, “No.”

You let him just hold you before pressing him further. You knew he would spill in due time, if he wanted to. Never wanting to pressure him you always asked though, “Care to share?”

He took a long breathe in and a steady one out before pulling you over the couch you and Jack were occupying moments before. Pulling you down into his lap you let him sit there and hold you. It wasn’t that often that he was here, present, and fully there. These were moments you prayed would happen more often but never seemed to come around enough. So, you cherished them. Even when they were tenser moments like these.

He sighed knowing he needed to tell you. He had to get it off his chest or he’d keep thinking about it over and over again. Ruminate for no reason, “He kept blaming me for her death.” You knew immediately what he was referring to. Pulling him closer you started running your hands through his hair, just like you had Jack earlier on in the night, “He just… wouldn’t stop. Kept going on about it. How he’d never forget. Even with the damn disease.” You looked at his expressive face as he laid it on you, everything that Roy had laid on him through the afternoon.

“Hon, you know that’s not true right?” You asked quietly continuing to play with his hair. You knew it was a weakness for the man. For both the Hotchner boys you found out quickly and used it against them as often as you could. You just hoped it was helping him, even if it was just a little.

He nodded quickly, “I know. Trust me, I know. It just, he messed with my head.” He didn’t care to elaborate so you simply snuggled in closer to him. Breathing him in. It didn’t matter that he spent his morning in a hospital and the afternoon in somebody else’s home, he still smelled like Aaron. He became your home. Your safe space.

After a few moments of silence, you squeezed his side, “You’re one of the best people I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. I get that I didn’t know you back then, but I do know that you were the same. I know how fucking hard you tried to save her. I know how unfair it’s been on you. I love you beyond words Aaron. I just hope you love yourself just a little. You give so much for everyone else. Give a little bit back to yourself too sometimes.”

He listened to your every word before responding. Nodding his head at you, “I’ll try to. I know I’m not the best at it, but I’ll try to.”

“Yeah?” You pulled away from his chest smiling at him.

He nodded giving you a quick kiss on the cheek, “I’m not perfect. I’ll never be. So, you’ll have to call me out when I run back into old habits. But I’ll try. For you. For Jack.”

“Okay.” You grinned giving him a long kiss this time. Getting a little tired of the short kisses that seemed to miss your lips, “By the way, I think your nearly perfect. If that means anything.” You grinned brushing your fingers down the side of his face.

“Honey, that means the world to me.” He returned the favor by gently cradling your face in his hands before kissing you much more deeply this time, “I love you.”

“And I love you.” You grinned in confirmation.

“Let’s get going to bed. Jack will wake us up in a few hours wanting pancakes or something.” Aaron looked at the time getting closer to on in the morning.

You grinned letting him pull you up right out of the spot you’d been occupying on his lap, “Jack’s worth losing sleep over though. I’ll happily make pancakes with him at six in the morning.”

Aaron laughed before setting you down on the ground, “You say that before he tries waking you up then. I take it you two had a good night?”

You nodded in confirmation, “True.” You laughed a little before continuing, “I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it in the morning though.”

He grabbed your hand holding it tight, “In the morning then.”

You yawned nodding your head while leaning into his chest not really caring how clingy you were being. All you wanted was him.

Feeling his laugh, you smiled to yourself. At least you were able to make him smile. You were never the best with words so being able to make him laugh it off or smile in your presence was always a win in your book.

“Let’s get to bed before you fall asleep standing up.” You couldn’t see his expression in the dark, but you just knew he was smirking at you.

“Sure thing.” You didn’t make any effort to move only leaning further into him.

“Alright.” He scooped you right on up in your arms, “I get the hint stubborn ass.” He held you tight not even the slightest bit mad you wanted him to carry you up to sleep. He adored moments like these.

“That’s why they pay you the big bucks boss man.” Sleepily you grinned to yourself knowing you had him there. He was literally paid to observe and predict.

Gently, he laid you down on the bed pulling you into his side ignoring that comment, “Y/N?” He asked seeing if you were still coherent before continuing.

“Yeah?” You answered him still there.

“Thank you for everything today. And in general. I don’t thank you enough.” He gently rubbing a thumb over your hip knowing that was one of your many weaknesses. Truth be told almost anything Aaron did was a weakness for you.

“Of course. That’s what partners do. They help each other when they need it. I love you Aaron Hotchner. Every little bit of you.” Your eyes fluttered closed as he kept brushing his hand over your side. Soothing you right to sleep.

“I love every bit of you too honeybee.” He kissed the back of your head drifting off to sleep right behind you. For as odd as the relationship was with him sometimes you’d never change it. Not in a million years. Especially as you were snuggled up to him in a dreamless sleep.

Taglist: @genius2050 @simp4f1 @buckybarnessweetheart

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gavisuntiedboot · 11 months

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Whenever you have the time could you write about Gavi with a gf that is a bit reserved and touch starved, her love language is physical touch but she doesn't initiate it with Gavi because her ex always told her she is clingy and annoying so she's insecure about it, so Gavi tries to show her it's okay by always cuddling her, or touching her in any way. And then over time she starts to initiate the cuddling/touching and Gavi is so proud and happy because she finally feels comfortable with him

Your writing is amazing btw, I've decided to wait for you to finish Just Pretend completely to continue reading it because whenever I finish the last chapter you post I get so sad because the next one isn't out yet and I can't live in the agony of not knowing what happens next

Pls hold my hand

"Princess, why do you have a sweatshirt that says ‘clingy’ on it?”

You looked over to Gavi, who plopped himself down on the couch next to you, grabbing the remote to cue the Netflix show the two of you had been watching for the last several weeks, eager to finally watch another episode, as the two of you held your shared series’ to a sacred standard. With only two episodes left of the latest “Drive to Survive”, you didn’t want to delay the experience with too much conversation.

"Just and inside joke between me and my friends.” You said, avoiding eye contact and focusing on the bag of m&m’s in front of you.

“Your friends think you’re clingy?” He asked, turning to face you as his hoodie slipped from his head, messy brown locks on full display. One of the things you adored about Pablo was how much he was always trying to protect you and look out for you. You weren’t really be confrontational, and this lead to some mistreatment and being pushed over at times by those close to you. Well, you used to. Since you and Pablo started dating about 8 months ago, he had been there to defend you against people who wanted to take advantage, and often was the voice reminding you to stick up for yourself.

“No no, it’s not them. It’s … something to do with my ex boyfriend. Do you still want to know?”

Gavi tensed at this. Despite you never saying anything explicitly negative about your boyfriend, all the stories Gavi heard made him hate the man with a burning passion. He had slowly but surely messed you up in so many ways, and now as Pablo worked to slowly unravel the knots tightened around your heart, he couldn’t help but curse the man that tied them to begin with.

“Yeah. You can tell me.”

You shifted in your seat, rather uncomfortable with the topic, but not wanting to lie to your boyfriend.

“Well, remember that little love languages quiz I made you do? Well I did mine like years ago, and I got physical touch. Which makes sense right because that’s one of yours and we seem to be getting along pretty well.” Gavi giggled at this, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and causing you to tense.

“Well, my last boyfriend wasn’t super into like… touching? Fuck that sounds sexual. I mean he didn’t really like being touched or cuddling or all that couple stuff. Didn’t like holding hands either. And like this one time, he was watching something on his computer and I was feeling bold or whatever and tried to sit on his lap — he hated that though. He liked pushed me onto the floor and told me to stop being clingy.” You forced out a laugh, trying to lighten the mood and soften the look of horror that had occupied Gavi’s face.

“That was actually why I broke up with him. Anyways I didn’t hug any of my friends for a month after that, and when they finally confronted me and I told them why, they got this made me for me. See, look at the sleeve,” you said, stretching out your arm to show him the ‘pls hold my hand’ embroidered on the sleeve. “So now whenever I’m in my clingy sweatshirt, my friends give me a ton of hugs and stuff. It’s funny. I think.” You say, winching slightly by the fact that Pablo’s eyebrows are still pushed together in anger.

He muttered his grievances about your boyfriend while cuddling closer to you, pulling you into his chest. Your cheeks warmed as they were pressed against Gavi’s beating heart. Despite the long time you had been dating Pablo, you still were shy when it came to initiating any sort of affection. You were too scared of annoying him and pushing him further away. So you remained shy and reserved, only responding to the touches he initiated.

“Give me your hand, silly. Never been with a girl who came with instructions before. Maybe I should get you a pair of panties that say-“ his sentence abruptly ended with a pillow to the face. You giggled, trying to pull away from his grasp, but he just pulled you closer, wrapping both arms around you now.

“Oh no no princesa. You’re not going anywhere. Now hush and make mean comments about Verstappen with me.”

Over the next few weeks, Pablo had made an active effort to make you more comfortable with being physical with him. Whenever the two of you were out, he held your hand or had you two link arms. He hugged you and kissed you on the cheek or forehead, asking, “you don’t want to give me a kiss back, Amor?” Puppy dog eyes and adorable pout on display, you coyly returned the peck to his jutted out lip. He smiled widely, teeth almost blinding you. He returned with an attack, kissing you across both cheeks, and ending with a searing kiss to the lips.

His favorite time was when you two watched shows together. He would always pull you in close, cuddling with you next to him on the couch. He would lean close and whisper his comments about the show into your ear, making your skin erupt in goosebumps as his breath famed over. He would press kisses into your temples, breathing in the sweet smell of your hair, and reminding you how much he loved being around you.

“You’re so warm amor - my personal furnace. I love it.”

“Your skin is so soft, feels so nice.”

“I wish I never had to get up from beside you.”

After three weeks of hand holding, kisses, and encouragement, you finally found the confidence to approach Gavi to heal your touch starvation. You put on your clingy hoodie again, laying out snacks on the coffee table and firing up her Netflix.

“Princesa I’m here! Where are you?”

Running to the door, you wrapped both arms around Gavi’s neck, pulling him into you and greeting him with a firm kiss. As he recovered from the unexpected greeting, you informed him that you would be in the living room pulling up a new series. He followed closely after kicking off his shoes, and peeling off his Barca jacket, picking up the hoodie you had laid out for him.

“Did you change shampoos? Used to be peach and now it’s strawberry.”

“How could you tell?” You asked, grabbing some drinks as Pablo got comfy on the couch. He crossed his arms across his chest, legs spread and back slumped.

“My clothes smell different around the shoulders. That’s usually where your wet hair sits.” He looked over at you, watching your eyes go wide. “Amor, you know I love you, stop being surprised when I actually act like it. Now what are we watching?”

Taking a deep breath, you walked back over. You grabbed the remote, pressing play.

“The new season of Black Mirror is out and I’m dying to see it. Heard this one is creepier than normal.” As you explained, you walked over to Gavi. Before he could move to make space for you on the sofa, you draped yourself over his lap. Your legs were to his side, back pressed to his chest. Your arms wrapped around his torso, and you laid your head on his shoulder. ‘Deep breaths it’s okay he’s not going to push you off.’

Pablo was stunned for a moment, so much so that he remained motionless. Once the shock wore off and he felt your slight tremble, he brought his muscled arms around you, pulling you tightly against him, soft lips pressing to your pulse point and freeing a soft gasp from your throat. He rested his head atop yours, the pressure and warmth comforting and familiar.

“Look at you being bold cariño. If I knew it would get you to sit in my lap we would’ve done this months ago.” You giggled softly in response, turning to face him. You rested your forehead against his, gazing deeply into the deep brown pools of his eyes. Leaning in, his lips eagerly met yours, refusing to release you. When you finally pulled away, you resumed your comfortable position in Pablo’s embrace. “I’m so proud of you, princesa.” The two of you fell into s comfortable silence, enjoying the show, squeezing each other tighter whenever things got intense.

“Can I get a matching clingy hoodie for whenever I want cuddles?” Pablo asked, smiling at you from above.

“I don’t think so, Pablito. You would never take it off.”

~~~

Guys I have the worst headacheeeeee but yay I posted!

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grippingbeskar · 2 years

Text

try to relax

bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ minors dni. (fingering, fxm intercourse, dirty talk) drug use (don’t do drugs kids) and kinda dub-con because drugs. this is a FIC okay fictional. FAKE. swearing. one mention of death, tiny illusion to bucky’s sad little life but he’s fine now okay.

a/n: i honestly don’t know how good this is but i’m just happy to have finished SOMETHING these past two weeks. ding dong eat this!!!!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You need to chill the fuck out.” You say from your spot against the wall. Even watching him was stressing you out, your eyes tracking him back and forth as he paces the room you have both been stuck in for the last 3 hours.

“And you need to take this more seriously.” He takes a break from walking in a straight line to run a hand through his hair, peaking out the window for the hundredth time.

“They aren’t coming. Not for a while, at least.” Your head rolls back, the hunched position making you ache everywhere, but you didn’t have anywhere else to go with Bucky’s pacing.

“How would you know? You’ve been sitting there half asleep on your ass for hours while everyone else is probably searching for us.” He was so worked up— had been all day. This mission had gone wrong the minute the two of you had been paired up. Secure the perimeter, that was all you had to do. It was simple, but you and Bucky were anything but.

You don’t know when it started; it had to of been in the past few months when you started helping Steve out with a few lower level drug guys that turned out to be linked to Hydra. You never thought drug-dealing would turn out to lead to a promotion like this— staking out a building with an Avenger, but now here you were, and Bucky seemed to hate it from the start. Hated you too, probably.

There was just something about you that didn’t mesh well with him. It could be the way he never seemed to take a breath for one second, constantly either in a state of combat or some sort of depressive episode. Either way, the two of you worked well together— as a working team, that is. Even if it was paired with constant bickering that made the entire team rip out the comms in there ears.

Bucky just made you feel… things. You didn’t know why you always bickered with him, always found an excuse to talk to him, even if it was to argue. You were just drawn to him in a way you didn’t understand, but it was best you didn’t. He certainly didn’t feel anything but mild irritation. Maybe more than mild.

“Look, they are either still trying to clear out the building across the street, orrrrr… they are all dead and we are next. Either way there’s nothing we can do about it right now, so you might as well get comfortable.”

“Our friends could be dead, and you want to get comfortable?”

“Your friends. My co-workers.” You drag your backpack over to you, using it as a pillow before laying down on the floor, preparing for a long night. The area Steve and Natasha were covering was huge, and now that you and Bucky had been locked in this room before you could finish your sweep, you were stuck here until they met up with you on the other side. “They aren’t dead, James. Without any super powered help though, it’s going to take them hours to even figure out we are still here. So chill out.”

Bucky sighed, but he had exhausted every way possible to get out of this room. There was a window, and if he was alone, he would take his chance and jump, but it was way too far for you, and Steve would kill him if he left you here. That’s the excuse he told himself, at least.

In reality, he didn’t want to leave you. You were the first person he’d had a connection with other than Steve in decades. Sure, you hated his guts and found him annoying, but you talked to him. Didn’t look at him like he was some kind of monster. You were never afraid of him, talking back at him like he was just another person, not a super soldier who could kill you in less than a second. You were also an ex-drug dealer, though, so maybe he shouldn’t value your opinion as much as he does.

The little fight he had about getting out of here drops out when his back hits the opposite wall to you, sliding down now that his body feels heavy with exhaustion. It had been a long day, and even if this mission was cut short, hanging around you all day always sucked the energy out of him. It was like adrenaline pumped him awake when he was with you—that was probably why you thought he was so strung out all the time. It was just you that made him nervous, put him on edge.

“I can practically hear you thinking.” You were staring at him, watching how his metal hand and the real one linked behind his neck as he leaned back. Yeah, he might hate you, but fuck if he didn’t look good doing it. His hair was getting a little longer now, fading around the nape of his neck, and you tried to look away but his eyes caught you like a snare, pulling you in.

“What?”

“You’re stressing me out. Take a Xanax or something, you need to just… relax.” He rolls his eyes, stretching his legs out in front of him.

“Of course you would tell me to take a fucking pill.” He shakes his head, and you shrug. “Your whole bag is probably full of shit to offload, huh?”

“One, I’m offended. I’ll have you know I’ve gone straightened arrow thanks to my new, well paying job. Two, this is my personal stash, and you’re lucky to be offered anything at this rate.” He scoffs, and for a second he thinks your bluffing— you must be. No one in their right mind would pack for a mission anything but the essentials; ammo, ropes, necessary supplies. Drugs were out of the question, why would anyone ever— “But, since we’re stuck here, it’s your lucky day.”

You reach into the side pocket of your bag, and pull out one small tin. It’s the size of your palm, and when you open it, the room is instantly filled with a smell that Bucky knows too well.

“Seriously? You brought a blunt on a fucking recon mission?” He nearly laughs. “You have to be kidding. You know Fury would kill you for that.”

“Well, technically it’s medicinal. And in the state of New York, it’s almost the same as carrying a firearm— legal as long as you have the right paperwork, which we do.” You pull out a lighter, and shuffle over on your knees to sit closer to him. He must be high already, because the sight of you coming closer, on your knees has his breath hitching in his throat. You reach out, offering him the tin.

“I’m not smoking.” You take the tin back, looking up at him through your lashes before lighting one end and inhaling deeply. Your eyes flutter shut, and he knows he’s watching you too intently, but your eyes are closed, and he lets himself indulge for one more second before looking out the window, hoping for a distraction from the way you have him feeling.

“Suit yourself.” You lay down, spreading yourself out on the floor as you bring the blunt back to your mouth. Your eyes cross as you watch yourself exhale, letting the heavy smoke fan out in the small space around you. “You know you could really use it, though.”

“I’ve had enough of people fucking with my head. I don’t need to do it to myself.” You sit up on your elbows, your hair sliding over your shoulder as you turn to look at him.

“This is weak as shit. With your super soldier blood, you probably won’t even get high, but if you don’t want it, I’m not gonna make you.” You weren’t feeling any of the effects yet, so the look of sincerity in your eyes almost makes Bucky feel a little bare. “I get it. Not wanting to fuck yourself up.”

“Yeah.” He manages to get out, watching at you inhale again. The room feels ten degrees hotter, and your chest puffs out just a little when you smoke. Bucky tucks his legs up to bend them.

“You drink like a fucking sailor though. Constantly. This—“ You wave the blunt in the air, smiling a little. “—this is much healthier.”

“Oh? Healthier? Must be why it’s illegal.”

“Medicinal.” You purr, looking at him again with a spark in your eye.

“I don’t get drunk.” You turn to face him then, still laying down, and the curve of your hip is exposed with how your shirt rides up. Bucky coughs, looking out the window again.

“Why do you drink so much, then?”

“Medicinal.” You grin lazily, flopping your head to one side, and then a light giggle comes out of your mouth, and Bucky is pretty sure he’s breathing in too much of your second hand smoke with how fast his heart is beating, despite the fact it’s all flying out the open window.

“You’re funny. Why didn’t I know you were funny?” You lay back down, exhaling more smoke and watching a little bit of ash fall off the end of the blunt.

“Too busy yellin’ at me.”

“Yeah, well if you didn’t go out of your way to piss me off so much, I wouldn’t yell.” Another few rings of smoke hover above you, and the more you smoke, the more intrigued he is with the effect it has on you, and what it would do to him.

“I don’t try to do that.” Bucky says, a little more defensive than he meant.

“Must be your natural charm, then. That or you just really hate my guts.” You say it jokingly, but there’s a tinge of truth behind it. You think he hates you? Sure, you argue, but he argues with everyone. It’s practically a personality trait. After a long silence, he finally finds the mind to say something.

“I don’t. Hate you.” His hands nervously tap against his knees. “If we’re being honest, I actually always kind of liked you. Even if you did piss me off all the time.”

“Aww. You like me!” You chirp in a sing-song tone and he scoffs, dropping his head to hide the stupid smile that makes his eyes light up. “That’s so sweet.”

“Yeah? I’ll take it back. No one’ll believe you; you’re high as shit.” You start laughing harder, proving his point.

“Well, there you go. Only took us being locked in a room for three hours, and now we’re best buds.” You laugh at your own joke, and Bucky shakes his head, only smiling because you were.

Inhaling again, the paper in your hand is nearly burnt out, and you relight it before sucking in one more time, and snuffing out the flame on the ground. The muscles in your shoulders nearly sink into the ground, and your eyes close, sighing.

“You okay?” He asks quietly after a few minutes, and you smile, keeping your eyes shut.

“Never better, Buck.” The nickname makes him straighten. You hardly ever call him Bucky, only James. He likes it a little too much; the way you say it. He sees how relaxed you are, how easy words come to you the longer you sit with the drug in your system, and he wants to feel that relaxed. Since he came back from Wakanda, he doesn’t think he’s had a second of feeling as relaxed as you are now. He was constantly wondering what was around the corner, terrified of his own mind, and even though he knew he was free, there was always going to be that thing in the back of his mind that told him to stay alert. Stay tense.

“What’s it feel like?” He hates how fucking young he sounds, but it’s an experience he’s never had. He didn’t do shit like that when he was young— never had a chance to. He was straight into the army, and the only thing he ever smoked was cigarettes.

“Warm.” You hum. For a second he thought you were asleep with how still you were. “Feels better the longer you wait.”

“Thought your tolerance would be better for a drug dealer.” He teases.

“I don’t use a lot. Never did.” You suck in a long, clean breath, and finally open your eyes again.

“Why not?”

“I gotta be with the right people. I don’t want my head all messed up around the people I was with. Need to trust them.”

“And you trust me?”

“Of course I do. I would of died a hundred times over if it wasn’t for you.” Sure, the two of you may not agree, and most of the time argue about it, but you trusted him a hell of a lot more than anyone you sold with. More than anyone, really. His eyes linger on the joint in your hand, and you raise an eyebrow. “You curious?”

“Kind of.”

“Really?” He shrugs, looking around the empty room. The sun was starting to set, washing you over in a hue of orange. There was literally nothing else to do right now. “Okay. You done this before?”

“I’m 106 years old.” He deflects, and you squint at him. “No, I haven’t.”

You laugh, sitting up and bringing your lighter in your right hand. You shuffle over on your knees, and you get a little closer than you need but Bucky lets you. Widening his legs, he lets you lean against the inside of one of his thighs.

You feel high as a fucking kite, and it’s not even the blunt that’s making you all lightheaded. Bucky smells so fucking good, and this close you can nearly sink into him. He’s watching you intently, eyes tracking when your hands fiddle with the paper and lighter, and as you bring it to his lips, he stares into your eyes when his parts his mouth.

“So, what you wanna do is—“

“Yeah, yeah. Light it.” He says, the blunt muffling his words as he leans forward. His chest presses against your side and you feel him breathe in, the small flame of the lighter licking at the twisted end.

He takes a long, deep breath and holds it for a couple seconds, staring at you with slightly widened eyes. You wait for it— the realisation it’s too much too quick, and in the next moment he’s coughing practically into your lap, turning away and snatching your water out of your hands.

“Jesus. You really are old.” He was still coughing, trying to swallow some water, but after he got a couple breaths back in he was smiling with you. Head resting back on the wall, grinning from ear to ear. “You good?”

“Yeah. Yeah, just been a while since I smoked anything.” You nod, taking a hit of your own. The familiar burn keeps the warmth spreading in your chest, and you can feel how hot your face is getting, the warmth of Bucky’s body heat making you want to reach out and grab him.

Okay— you needed to cool down. Clearly, being near Bucky was making you delirious, because the thoughts you could usually shut down were the same ones you couldn’t stop thinking about. How warm his mouth would feel, how easy it would be to curl into his chest and sleep this stupid mission away.

“Can I?” His metal hand gently drags the joint from your mouth as you nod slowly, staring up at him. You watch, enthralled at how he makes it look so good. He shuts his eyes, concentrating on the feeling of breathing and the honeyed feeling slipping into his chest. It was the closest thing you’d seen to pure perfection— how his hair fell, how his metal hand looked so careful, even though you knew what it could really do. Your eyes must nearly have hearts in them, you were staring with that much intent.

Bucky, on the other hand, was on cloud fucking nine. Two drags in and he could feel that warm, sleepy high you were talking about. He was worried about… well, something, at some point he thinks, but honestly he couldn’t hold onto a single thought other than the way you were looking at him right now. It was the drugs, he reasoned, but Jesus, he couldn’t help it. You were so close, and your eyes were so wide…

Wordlessly, the two of you share the second blunt, passing it between you with a few small laughs if Bucky chokes. You show him a few dumb smoke tricks you picked up along the way, and he fails miserably trying to copy them. Eventually the paper burns through and you snuff it out on the wall, letting your head fall back on the top of Bucky’s knee.

“Damn.” He says now that he’s sat in the feeling for a while. “You were right.”

“Huh?”

“Feels… good. The longer you wait.” You hum, smiling, and his face falls when you turn your head to look up at him. Wind blows through the crack in the window, and no matter how warm the weed is making you feel, you still shiver as it crosses over you. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just… wind is cold.” He blows out a breath, head flopping to the side to squint at the window, almost like he’d forgotten it was there.

“We are high up. Gonna get colder tonight.” Neither of you expected an overnight mission, and you hadn’t even packed a jacket. “Come here.”

“What?”

“I’m cold, too. Come closer.” Arms outstretched, he looks way too inviting. It was James, though… and up until about three hours ago, you thought he hated you. Now, he wanted to… cuddle?

“James.”

“Don’t say my name like that.” He pouts. Like a four year old.

“Like what?”

“Like you hate me.” You shook your head, hair falling over your now heated cheeks. Feeling like you had to prove him wrong, like you had to make it up to him, and also like the only place you wanted to be was tucked into his giant frame, in one movement you spin around and lean into him, your back pressing against his chest. You sigh, sinking into the feeling of him pressed to your feverish skin, every exhale dropping you further and further down in his lap. His arms wrap around your waist, and you can feel his nose on the skin at the back of your neck.

“S’better, yeah?” His voice is gravely and low, the heat of his words brushing against the shell of your ear.

“Yeah. It’s good.” Your eyes were a little heavy, but you had never felt more awake. Bucky’s hands were fanned out on your stomach, holding you a little tighter now that he knew you wanted to stay.

“You smell nice.” His head is pressed against the back of yours, and the comment breaks you out into a fit of laughter, because of course he would say that.

“You would think so. It’s your shampoo I use.” You feel his laughter on the back of your neck, and it’s then that you somehow notice the sun has completely disappeared from the window. “Shit, Buck. What time is it?”

“Dunno.”

“We… we should try the comms again. See if Steve can hear us.” Bucky makes a noise, maybe agreement, or maybe he’s just humming a tune, but one of his arms skates along your side to reach for his pocket, and he holds out the comm to your ear, pressing the receiver.

After a few tries, you give up. It’s clear your going to be stuck here all night, but with the way you are now, you don’t really give a shit.

“Nothin’.” You say and he chucks the comm to the other side of the room, pulling you closer as he threads his metal arm back around your waist. “And you said I needed to take this more seriously.”

“I am being very…” His lips brush against the hot skin of your collarbone “..very serious right now.”

“Bucky…” He hums again, the vibration on your skin sinking all the way through your body. “You’re… friendly—when your high.”

“I’m always friendly.” Fuck— the way he says it, he’s not even trying to but it makes your toes curl in your shoes. You don’t say anything, just let his head press into the crook of your neck, like he’s using you to hold himself up. He probably feels as weighed down as you do, all your limbs feeling like weights now. After a bit of silence, he picks his head up. “I like this.”

“You like it?” He nods, the few curls on his forehead tickling under your jaw. “Well, I can get you some if you—“

“Not the drugs. You.” A noise erupts from your throat, somewhere between a gasp and a pathetic whimper.

“You’re just high, Buck.” It makes you a little angrier than it should— he gets to say stuff like that now cause he’s all fucked up, but then he’s gonna go right back to his old self when this wears off in a couple of hours, and you hate that he can make you feel all these things with a few sweet words. As hard as it is, you slide out of his hold, and he frowns, head falling back to lean on the wall again.

“M’not.” He moans, shuffling up slightly.

“Yes, you are. Let me see your eyes.” Bucky lets his head fall forward dramatically, and now you’re on your knees in front of him, you can see how flushed his face is, and his eyes are bloodshot. “You’re high as fuck.”

“So?”

“So, you’re talking out of your ass. You don’t get to say things like that then take them back when your heads clear.” It comes out a little more bitter than you planned, and you shove yourself backward, putting more space between you two. It didn’t matter how much you wanted it— he was fucked, and would never want you sober.

“What? Wait… give me a second.” He rubs his eyes, and shakes his head in this totally endearing way that makes you want to slide back over in his arms, but you keep your hands cemented to the floor. “That’s not— I wouldn’t take it back. I do… like you.”

“Why are you saying that like it leaves a bad taste in your mouth?” He swallows and blinks slowly, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. If you weren’t so high right now, you might be more upset with him. Or more… reactive, in another way. Instead you just sit and watch him blink at you, nearly being able to hear the cogs slowly turning in his brain.

“No, I just... Jesus, you are so complicated.” Your jaw hangs open, and it’s you that gets a little closer this time.

“Me? I’m complicated?”

“Yes. Complicated.” He pronounces every syllable of the word, a slight smirk on his face. “You act like you hate me most days, but you always look at me like...”

“Like what?”

“Like you want me. Bad.” That wipes the expression off your face, and you can’t tell if it’s the drugs in your system or just the effect Bucky has on you, but you struggle to get a proper breath in. “Like maybe you want me as bad as I want you, and for some reason you don’t want to admit it.”

“Bucky.” You say, and it was meant to have some kind of warning in it, but it comes out more as a whimper. He was reading your mind, all those times you rolled your eyes at him, started an argument just so he would get angry at you and focus on you; you could blame the weed as much as you wanted, but even stone cold sober Bucky would be able to get you to give in this easy.

“Tell me you haven’t thought about it. Even once.” He shuffles forward on his knees, towering over you.

“You don’t want me to answer that.”

“Yeah, I do. Really bad.” He’s closer now, and you can smell the faint remains of his cologne. It’s nearly intoxicating. Your back was pressing against the wall, and you weakly kick out a leg into his chest, stopping him from getting closer. It’s the last thing you want, but Bucky stops, sinking back on his heels.

“You don’t. You aren’t thinking clearly.” His shoulders slump, and the way his eyes are all wide and puppy dog like, you can’t figure out if you should just let him do whatever he wants to you or splash water in his face. The only reason you haven’t jumped on him yet is because this must be the weed. It has to be, because there’s no way in hell Buck actually wants you. He’s just cold, horny, probably, but he doesn’t want you. He doesn’t even like you…

“Nothing I haven’t thought a hundred times before.” Bucky whispers, staying where he is opposite you. “Think about it too much, probably. All the time.”

“Think about what?” He smiles then, like he could almost see the last bit of your rational brain fly out the small crack of the window. He moves, not on top of you like you hoped he’d try, but next to you, exhaling as he relaxes against the wall. His shoulder presses into yours, and his head flops to the side nearly resting on you.

“Think about how you always piss me off. Like you do it on purpose.” The anxiety you were feeling starts to fade away, and the calming effects of the drug set in, making your eyes flutter shut as you smile. “Makes me think you just do it to get my attention.”

“You wish.” He’s right, reading you like an open fucking book, and even with his inebriated state he knows it. He looks up at you, grinning ear to ear, and you shove him. Not hard enough to get him off you, though.

“I’m not saying anything I don’t mean. I’ve never hated you. Never not wanted you.” He blows past the admission, stretching his legs out and moving so the entire length of his body was pressing against the side of yours. But it’s not lost on you. It’s almost like you’re dreaming— everything you never thought you’d hear is laid out in front of you, and your heart nearly stops at the thought of taking it.

“Wanted me, huh?” You deflect and he nods, still staring at you. “You have a shit way of showing it.”

“I haven’t got the best game nowadays. It’s been… a while.” Both of you laugh a little harder than necessary, and now you really feel it. That familiar buzz… it’s taken a little longer to set in, but now there’s not a thought in your brain other than the way Bucky’s head was resting on your shoulder, and his nose was grazing the skin just under your jaw. “Let me make it up to you.”

“You know this isn’t what I had in mind when I said you needed to chill out.” You suck in a sharp breath when his hand comes up under your jaw, two long fingers angling your head up just right, so your lips would melt together if he moved half an inch forward.

“That’s not a bad thing, right?” He says it so soft, and his eyes flutter closed, letting you make the call. You stare at him for a second, trying to find any part of your blissed out head that would take the moral high ground. “Cause I would be very, very relaxed if you kissed me right now.”

“Bucky…” His eyes open, keeping his hand on your jaw. “I don’t want to kiss you if you’ll go back to hating me tomorrow.”

“I never hated you.” His hand slides back, fingers threading in your hair and he shakes his head. “I want this if you do.”

“You know I do.” You whisper, and he hums, eyes darting between your mouth and his hands in your hair.

“S’fucking pretty, too. Always thought that.” The compliment makes you lose your edge, and you stutter through your sentences, trying to be the rational one— but let’s face it, he’s got you wrapped around one metal fucking finger.

“You aren’t— Bucky. I’m… we can’t. You are off your face—“

“I’m a fucking super soldier. One joint doesn’t make me want you any less.” Both of his hands hold you, his eyes wide. It’s like he’s suddenly awake, proving a point that if he concentrates, he’s still able to think clearly. “I want you. Now and tomorrow. After that.”

“After that?” You smile and laugh, and he brushes his nose against yours.

“Do you want this, doll?” You blink a few times and nod quickly, not wanting him to mistake your sluggishness for hesitation, and he leans forward. The buzzing of adrenaline is mixing with the warmth from the joint, and you know it’s going to happen, because he’s never someone you could say no to. When he finally kisses you it’s soft, electricity almost zapping if he wasn’t pressing against you so lightly.

It only lasts about three seconds and he pulls away, smiling like a kid before his metal arm wraps around your back and slides you over his lap. Both of you breathe in sync, sucking in air before colliding your lips again. It’s still slow, but harder this time, Bucky’s hand pulling your hair a little as he makes a fist, trying to hold onto something— anything to ground him.

Maybe it’s the fact your both in the clouds, or it’s the built up tension from months of bickering and side eye glances, but one roll of your hips has both of you panting, and you swear if you just get a little more friction you could finish right in his lap, him only needing to tug on your hair a little harder.

“Bucky.” You moan like it’s a curse word, and he growls into your mouth, pulling you tighter. Your movements aren’t controlled, your brain so foggy that you aren’t sure you can really feel your fingertips and how hard they might be digging into the strong lines of Bucky’s neck, but he’s just as gone as you are, and you both revel in the unhinged desperation that has you both pulling— pleading with the other to give in.

“Baby, baby…” He sighs, and kisses down your neck. His teeth scrape along the skin, nipping lightly, the warmth of his mouth following in a soothing apology. “Tell me you want me like I want you. Don’t want you to hate me for this.”

“Never fucking hated you, Bucky. Just…” You roll your hips again and let out the most pathetic sound you think you’ve ever made, the drugs only making everything feel slower and a hundred times better. “I want you. Want you now.”

Your hands slip between your bodies, and Bucky bites harder than he wanted to on your collarbone when you palm him roughly through his jeans.

“Fuck. Sorry, baby.” He kisses over the spot, now destined to leave a mark, but the way you bummed when he did it makes him think you like it.

“It’s okay. You feel good.” You say, breathless and voice heavy with need. He has to stop himself from tearing your pants open and shoving himself inside of you then and there, but the weed and the fact you were finally letting him touch you like this makes him want to draw this out. Make you wait; have it nice and slow like you deserve. “Buck. Please, need you to—“

“Shh. I’ll take care of you.” He mumbles into your ear, feeling you shiver as both of his hands drop to rest on your upper thighs. He squeezes, forcing you to relax, although your limbs already feel like jelly. Then they slide upward, tugging at the button of your jeans and pulling them down. “You trust me?”

Nodding again, you both move at the same time. It’s awkward and fumbling, you trying to keep your hands on him while the both of you try to undress, and you feel so lightheaded that when Bucky swears under his breath while yanking your pants over your knees, you can’t help but laugh between the moments Buckys mouth isn’t on yours. He smiles back, you know even though your eyes are shut, and suddenly you don’t feel trapped in this room at all.

Your bare knees hit the cold hardwood floor and you sigh, putting the rest of your weight on top of Bucky. He sucks in a breath, one arm wrapping around your lower back, the cool metal making you flinch slightly. He notices, and goes to let you go, but you just shake your head.

“Don’t. I like it there.” Your eyes flutter open to find his own staring right at you, and when you talk he gets a lazy smile, his face relaxing before his real hand reaches up to your face and kisses you again.

“You like it?” He whispers, moving down to kiss your neck and you nod. “Good. That’s good. What about this?”

His mouth moves lower while his other hand does the same, resting on your hip and pushing you down a little harder.

“Yeah.” You breath, threading your fingers through his hair. You tug lightly and he groans, the sound making you smile. You can’t count how many times you’d imagined your hands in his hair. His hand lets go of your hip, rough pads of his fingers tracing lightly over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. He traces the outline of your underwear, the gentle touch sending shivers up your spine and making it hard to get a full breath in. You press into him harder, the haziness in your mind pin pointed to the burst of pleasure rushing through you at the feeling.

“Let me help you, baby.” His words are a little slurred, and he moves slowly, but there’s nothing hesitant in the way his hand slips under the thin, ruined fabric of your underwear and draws slow, tight circles on your clit. You choke out a moan that’s lost in his mouth, body slumping forward as your head falls into the crook of his neck. “There you go. Good girl— good fucking girl.”

“Oh god—“ You moan, and he doesn’t get faster, just keeps that same slow, controlled pace.

“That’s it. Just relax— let me… shit, wanna hear how good I’m making you feel.” You don’t think you could possibly be more relaxed right now, feeling Bucky in all the right places.

He kisses along your jaw, letting his tongue dart out and teeth drag lightly over the spots that make you gasp. There isn’t a spot he hasn’t explored, the attention making you feverish and your eyes squeeze even tighter shut than you thought possible.

Your back arches and he grins against your skin, feeling your fingers grab his hair desperately and hearing you get louder and louder. His metal arm gripped your hip tight— forcing you to go at his pace, a slow staggering towards the building pleasure unfurling low in your stomach. When he kisses you again, head finally pulling back to your lips, it’s short and has you chasing his mouth.

“Wanna see those pretty eyes you when you cum. Look at me.” On command, you open your eyes, finding his gaze all too consuming. “There she is. You close, baby? Wanna cum around my fingers?”

Nodding, you cry out as he slides one finger inside of you, the wetness letting him open you up embarrassingly easily. He hums, almost smiling proudly, and you fight every instinct in your body to keep your eyes open and on him, because he told you so.

Everything halts for a second— you feel all your muscles contract and it’s almost like you’re falling, Bucky’s eyes burning into yours. He holds you closer, forehead pressing against you, and then pleasure overrides all of your senses. He guides you through it, his pace drawing out your release for as long as possible, still that slow, strong force that has you seeing literal stars even though you know you are looking at his eyes. The drug only heightens the sensation, feeling warmth and weightlessness like you never have before.

“Fuck. You’re so pretty.” You moan in response, feeling his index finger brush past your clit again as he slides away from your entrance. Heaving breaths return the oxygen to your brain, and you pull him into a bruising kiss, shaking fingers slipping under the fabric of his boxers.

You hear Bucky suck in a sharp breath when your hands skim lower, pulling his boxers down ever so slowly. He couldn’t figure out what to look at— your hands, soft and gentle, brushing against parts of his skin he’s not sure anyone this decade would of seen, or your face, the lazy smile and the way you bite your lip when you see how fucking hard he is for you just from hearing you say his name. Your hand brushes against him, lightly; teasing, and you smile a little wider when he lurches forward.

“Relax.” You say mockingly and he shakes his head, pulling your mouth back to his. Your bodies move in sync now, him shuffling down as you move up, and the kiss is only broken by a pleasured gasp from both of you as he slowly slides inside of you. “Oh, fuck—“

“You feel so good.” Bucky whines into the crook of your neck. He doesn’t move just yet, giving you time to adjust and only shifting your hips so you can take the weight off your legs. “Can feel how tight you are.”

“Bucky… please. Need you.” The feeling of him moaning against your skin makes your spine shiver.

“Alright, sweetheart. Stay nice and still for me, yeah?” Nodding, he shifts his hips, driving deeper inside of you and your mouth hangs open as fireworks shoot off in your stomach. His pace is slow at first, but Bucky doesn’t have the control he did with his hands. Not when he can feel you reacting to every move he makes, feel how you tighten around him when he talks to you— “Tell me how it feels.”

“Really… really good, Buck.” He looks up, not able to do anything but admire the way your head falls back, exposing all the little marks and bruises he’s made against your soft skin. “F-faster. Please.”

“Wrap your arms around me.” He can’t smell the weed anymore, just the intoxicating scent of you as your arms link behind his neck, kissing his forehead before he speeds up, feeling all that pent up anger and stress chin away with each passing second. “God, that’s it.”

He was too far gone now, being buried in you the strongest high he’s felt in his entire life— you were too sweet, too fucking tempting and good to him, he couldn’t even think about how wrong this was right now, all he could think about was how god damn good you made him feel, and how you were saying his name over and over like it meant something to you. Saying it with none of that hate and bite, no attitude, just pure fucking pleasure, and that thought pulled him over the edge.

“Buckyyy…” You whined again, jaw slack, and he could feel you were close too. Another few seconds and he’d be right there with you, and he wanted it more than he’d let himself admit.

“Hold on. Little bit longer.” He grunted into your mouth, one hand holding your jaw.

“I can’t… please—“

“Yes you can. So fucking stubborn. You can.” He kisses you softly and your eyebrows furrow in concentration— so fucking good to him—“Almost, baby. Doin’ so fucking good.”

He tightens his metal arm around your waist, moving your body into his so hard your nails dig into the flesh of his neck, and a choked whimper comes out of him before he can stop it.

“Gonna cum, okay? Wanna feel you first though… please.” The softness of his voice is what hurls you over for the second time, your body collapsing into Bucky’s strong arms.

You feel his abs tense under his shirt as he cums, the warmth of him filling you so deep you can’t imagine feeling anything else for days. You kiss him again, and his mouth falls open, wide and all consuming, pulling you in so deep you have no choice but to let him take what he wants, what he needs— and fuck, you are glad to give it to him.

There’s nothing cold about the way he holds you now, the open window blowing in a breeze from the now pitch black night, but Bucky’s arms are tight around your waist, and he’s still buried inside of you, panting with his face pressed to your skin. He’d catch his breath faster if he wasn’t constantly kissing along your collarbone, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Buck—”

“Don’t move yet. Just a lil’ longer.” You feel metal fingers grazing the line of your spine, running up and down in tentative lines.

You weren’t really going to tell him to move. You were going to say something about how the comm he threw had been flashing for twenty minutes, indicating someone was trying to reach the two of you, but couldn’t get through because neither of you were on the other line. You pick your head up off his shoulder, pushing him back gently to look in his eyes. His head falls against the wall, a grin spread on his face that makes him look a hundred years younger.

“Why are you smiling?” He laughs, slowly looking down your body to where you were still connected, his hands now resting firmly on your hips.

“Just… happy?” The rooms silence is broken up with your scoff and more of his laughter, the sound only making you feel even lighter. He gives your hips a light squeeze, and you open your eyes again. “Been thinking about this for months. You. You’re why I’m smiling.”

Kissing him again felt like the most relaxing thing in the world, and when he flipped you on your back, you shoved your backpack over the comm link, covering the flashing light and leaving the two of you in darkness.

#bucky x female reader #bucky x yn #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x oc #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fan fiction #the winter solider smut #the winter solider x reader #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you

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waywardsunlight · 1 year

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Post Hoot 4/28/2023

Cissy, Dana, Rebecca, Sarah, Avi, and Zelda Black

Reactions to the finale?

Sarah cried really hard when she saw the Quincera (“a whole chapter in my life is over” line). Avi was excited to play a villain, Sarah said they were scary. Avi liked to play with character. Dana loved seeing Avi’s evil Raine, said it was intense. They said they wanted to see more evil Raine, but Dana wanted to avoid it. Rebecca’s birthday was the week the finale came out, talked about their appearance in the episode. Cissy started crying, said it was neat.

Continue reading below:

Cissy had been travelling, and got back right on time to see the finale, she was super tired. Cissy was crying, her kids were asking her if she was crying. Avi cried too. Sarah said she was choked up but she was more excited. Avi felt like it was surreal. Cissy said “no sequel” “we can hope” “It would be fun to do more but it would require Disney to agree” Dana. Sometimes Dana gets so pissed off about the cancelling. Rebecca said the finale aired and they were back to being angry. Wished they had gotten more episodes. Sarah was angry, upset and sad about the cancellation but she loved the finale. “It couldn’t have been more impressive”.“There’s always gonna be a thousand things we want to improve but it came out well” Dana

Dana loved the fight scene between Luz, Eda, and King v Belos.

Music? How does it work? Brad has been on since season 2, he already knew the style of the show, so for every animatic, you put in temp music, and you send the composer the stuff and the spot notes, follow the concept of the temp music but add a horror genre spin on it. Brad’s first take on the episode was great. TJ did a remix for the epilogue, Dana cried hearing the remix for the epilogue.

They brought back every single actor for the bye. Everyone’s last line is bye!!! Hooty originally had a line where he kept saying goodbye. Hooty coming out of Papa Titan’s eye? “I won’t say much, in hopes I get to do more in the future (slim chance), this youtube reviewer- The3rdBill got it right in an offhand comment”

“How did the writing change for season 2/season 3?” Dana had an ending she wanted, wasn’t able to do it bc too much set up. All of season 2A was written without the knowledge of the cancellation, Follies was the first episode fully written with the knowledge it was cancelled. Dana wanted to do more with galdorstones, coven heads, Bat Queen, it’s easy to see what we had to prioritize. It was a hard situation in the writer’s room. We did our best and we’re happy people still connected to it.”

“Keep being loud about how much you love the show”

“Support the Etsy artists!” Had a pin by SophieScrubs

“It’s not like we had whole episodes written that were trashed, they were one sentence ideas”- they were in Dana’s head “I’m just happy with what came out”

“We kinda got to go out, 45 minute specials, it was fun to work with”

Cissy “There’s no way you can’t be a fan”, Cissy was wearing a King beanie and got recognized as a fan in Ireland!

Sarah met people who liked her shirt and the show lol (didn’t say if they knew who she was) Rebecca wore a king sweatshirt in DisneyLand, saw somebody else with a king sweatshirt and they side-eyed her lol “Anyone who ignores Rebecca can catch these claws”

Owlberts in the title of the show, Stringbean is there too, the L and S, when they made the pilot, they had a different logo, it wasn’t made intentionally but they saw it and they liked it.

Luz had a connection with snakes, having her reclaim snakes.

Sarah was a snake believer!!!

A lot of ppl had ideas in the writers room, Dana loves bad puns and loved snakeshifter (the guy who has Barkus named after him), Beastkeeping bc Dana loves animals, Oracle bc she could see the future of the show.

“Avi needs wrangling” Sarah, they joked around.

Raine’s Palisman: The Palisman was disguised as the violin, Raine smashes their violin- it was the staff part of the Palisman that was smashed.

Did they Clawthorne family ever discover they were descendants of Evelyn and Caleb? Eda and Hunter don’t know, the rest I won’t say.

Who had the old house? Who did that belong to?

Sarah has a Stringbean!

“The artistry of the fandom is inspiring” Cissy

Somebody’s making Cissy a Lilith one.

Caleb, Evelyn, Flapjack? “Save it for the spinoff” Dana: “One detail I like to think of, is when we were writing TTT, Flapjack is not Evelyn, to Belos he saw Flapjack as the culmination of the corruption in his brother “if it weren’t for you”, you can see a hint at it in the halloween decorations, Evelyn’s hand had Flapjack. First magic Caleb was introduced to, Evelyn was hiding her ears and pretending to be human, follow this bird into this portal? “Dog owners passing eachother and becoming friends and bonding over dogs”. I like to think that Evelyn and Caleb was sweet- platonic curiosity to romantic, it was good for a bit.

“Who did the shack belong to?” We never got to explore this, it was originally the home of Caleb and Philip, Eda comes out there for the first time when coming out of the portal door. Eda fixed it!!! Everything doesn’t matter, google death of the author, I am just a fan now bc the show is finished. If you prefer your version, it’s valid rn.

Eda becomes the owl beast before getting Owlbert. There was going to be an episode where they showed her reclaiming the image of the owl and learning to carve palisman with Dell.

When Luz and Hunter went down to the basement originally, there were graves down there for Philip and Caleb, based off old buildings in connecticut (no story purpose)

Belos concepts when he was taking over animals, didn’t end up in the show, Belos animal designs, alluded to but not shown

Eye on the portal is Papa Titan? Yes.

Hunter is bisexual, Willow is pansexual.

Amity and Lilith rekindled mentor relationship, Lilith has a lot of history, Amity likes history + reading. They liked the blueprints for the library.

Cissy hadn’t seen anything she didn’t speak lines for, Cissy just got her lines/scenes.

Apparently they’re not supposed to bring the scripts home, before the pandemic they got full scripts

“Excuse me I’m talking” Avi (joking), Avi and Sarah are high energy

Avi didn’t have time to read the script, Sarah was confused when Luz died

Sarah got the script when Flapjack died, she said “no! Take me!” and they said “you’re going too”

Avi had trouble with the “you’re fluffy” line

Rebecca sent animatics to help the actors, it was easier for them to see the animatics

“It’s always up to the showrunner to show as much as they can” we go pitches in house with our own voices, Dana did Terra in For the Future animatic.Dana hates hearing her own voice, she talks really fast in her reads. When you pitch, you also do the sound effects. When they did the pitch for the finale (hour and a half), the line that got Rebecca choked up when Dana did Luz’s “Eda, King, thank you” “we got you kiddo”

There’s a recording of all of season two b and season three of Dana pitching doing the lines.

If the show had not been cut short, would Amity and Hunter have had more time? Everyone would’ve gotten more of a chance to talk to each other- yes. Hunter would’ve talked to more characters like Vee and human realm kids, Camila. Literally everyone would’ve had more time. Dana loves the sibling relationship.

Luz and Raine barely interact, they’re bickering jokingly. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to hang out” Dana, “we can’t get the hexsquad to hang out”

Where did Luz attend school after WAD? She went to human realm high school, she had renewed motivation, even if high school was difficult, she had a goal, having a safe space for her and a family outside of the human realm made high school more bearable (that was the cause for Dana, having that escape was good).

Gus’s hair!! :D Emmy designed him. Dana designed Emira, Skara, Eber for the finale. Dana had two others but she forgot.

King’s dad’s name is unpronounable.

Does the Collector visit often? Has their relationship with their siblings improve? (STRONG LAUGHS) Dana can’t say much about the Archivsts, the Collector didn’t have a flashforward design bc they didn’t grow up that much, got a little taller but not really. Immortal space child. Dana was inspired by creepy dolls, and a nightmare. JBO had a google folder with cool references of creepy dolls, liminal nightmare scapes, stars. We know who is the Collector is gonna be but what’s their vibe. That was one of the most fun parts after the shortening. The Collector was always a part of it, not solidified, but yeah they were a part of it. The Collector has stayed connected, visits. Dana loves fan comics about King and the Collector.

Won’t answer questions about the archvists.

Hooty doesn’t have to be vacated from the owl house if he doesn’t want to, the door has a star motif on it, when the door isn’t active, Hooty can be there, but the portal door can fold up but Hooty is buddy.

Who are the current residents of the Owl House? Raine and Eda’s business is their business, not all love stories end in marriage, that doesn’t diminism any kind of love? They live together in the owl house. Raine moved in.

Zach Markus invented Matt so he gets to answer Matt questions.

Vee and Masha dating? It’s hard to say, bc we didn’t include Masha in the finale, Vee has a crush on them. Yeah! Maybe.

Sarah’s husband is texting saying hi lol.

Odalia? Divorced. The kids happily live away from her. They see her when they have the energy to, they recognize she’s toxic and they don’t have to put up with her if she’s being awful. May have been explored if more episodes. Rachael MacFarlane (VA) is great. She’s not British, she’s just pretentious.

King’s Tower? Dana’s thinking… “dumb answer. The plans we had, it had something to do with… it was related to someone who you all know who may have amnesia

There was gonna be a moment for other characters to get eye glow (strong emotions)

What’s the mouse that looked like alador? In the boards, Dawn animated the scene, he has a pose where he looked like a t-rex, Dana saw it and thought he looked like Remy from Rattatoue, when they got to the scene with the lab, he remembered that convo and drew in the rat and Dana laughed so hard “keep it, don’t change it” “It’s his palisman”

“A show should be enjoyed as is, knowing how it’s made is also cool” “when the show got darker- we got to do the fun stuff we got to do, if we all tried to force ourselves to write a happy go-lucky show they’d be unhappy, we’re gonna put our feelings into this” It was a dark writers room for a bit.

Sarah likes the darker elements, mentioned the masks (maybe TTT?), not totally removed from reality

“It clearly struck a chord, we lived through a global quarantine, we’re feeling the fallout of it”

“What was extremely hopeful for the crew was that the characters would have a happy ending, Luz gets to study magic, the characters stay together and form a community”

They got questions they couldn’t answer like about the quince

They don’t know if this is the last post hoot

They opened presents but they didn’t get one for Avi bc they didn’t know they’d be there until 2 days before. Rebecca got them funko pops of Lilith and Luz. Rebecca said thank you.

“Hey disney, if you’re watching, this could be you”

Elizabeth (Camila VA) called her mom to translate stuff into spanish.

Said byeeee!

#the owl house #toh #toh spoilers #post hoot #I tried my best #some stuff is missing

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anonymoushouseplantfan · 1 year

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Meghan and Harry: Episode 1

Why?

Seriously, why?

Bet let’s start at the beginning. I live-blogged the documentary on my Notes app. I wasn’t originally going to post it because I’ve stopped blogging, but omg, this is truly, as Scobie would say, the endgame. Of course, it’s not the monarchy losing the game. It’s the Harkles, They’ve checkmated themselves.

This was a six-hour own goal. I knew it was going to end badly for them when I saw Sunshine Sachs dropped them. Without SS astroturfing positive coverage all over the place they were doomed anyway. However, the content of the documentary takes it beyond doom and into truly apocalyptic. I bet it has great ratings. It’s a complete train wreck.

[Edited after first liveblog: Netflix is calling it the most viewed documentary ever, but that’s misleading. It barely held on to The Crown’s audience which was its base number, and I doubt it will have the same staying power. Still, not a bad The Crown companion piece for Netflix.]

But let’s break it down.

Episode 1

Starting with shots in an airport lounge and a rented house looking like absolute crap is the weirdest branding idea I’ve ever heard of. They don’t look relatable. They look pathetic.

[I’m editing this after finishing their series and this opening is even more baffling now. Episode 5 covers their last week of royal engagements. First, that segment is a lot more glamorous and exciting than these sad-sack iPhone videos and they really should have opened with that. Second, Episode 5 shows they were elated and super excited after finishing those engagements. They loved the crowd reactions and the press coverage and were over-the-moon with happiness. These videos are supposedly shot after that and they are all sad and mopey and wondering “how they got here.” It’s a huge disconnect.]

The intro music screams “cheap YouTube production.” So does the stock photo montage. Oh, now it’s home movies…why? This resembles the video tab of a super-basic Facebook couple circa 2014. Netflix paid millions for this? I don’t think they got paid $100m, but I bet Netflix shelled out a tenth of that. They still overpaid.

[Actually, maybe they didn’t. The Crown cost $13 million per episode and they likely paid $10 mil for six episodes of Harry and Meghan which got the same audience.]

Now they are in a house (theirs? Victoria Jackson’s? Oprah’s?) that looks like a Restoration Hardware showroom and they look slightly less pathetic but also like they are in couples’ therapy. Oh, she did know who he was. What a shocker. Dimwit doesn’t seem to realize the implications. I wonder if the filmmaker is secretly mocking them.

[The house is a random rental that is now for sale so I wonder if they get a sales commission for the product placement. https://www.forbes.com/sites/emmareynolds/2022/12/20/montecito-home-where-prince-harry-and-meghan-markle-filmed-documentary-lists-for-335-million/?sh=3285e16b74fa]

My husband is watching with me. He was very confused by Meghan’s comment about how “when the stakes are so high” it makes sense to get the story from them. He doesn’t understand why the stakes are high. I told her Meghan is a narcissist and he didn’t believe me. He used to watch her on Suits and despite my best efforts still thinks she’s Rachel Zane. Anyway, he thinks the house looks like an expensive rehab clinic and now I can’t get that out of my mind. I think they are trying to look like the happy couples in When Harry Met Sally but it does feel like luxury drug rehab therapy full of Restoration Hardware furniture. He also asked me what was going on with Harry’s pupils in the airport lounge video. He thought that was weird. I tell him it's cocaine, but he thinks it's Xanax or something like that.

Montage. “They are destroying us.” “This has always been bigger than us.” Oh, please.

Montecito sunset. I guess this is their backyard? It looked better in the real estate photos. Meghan croons “isn’t it beautiful?” and Archie agrees. All I can think of is that these idiots used to live in freaking Windsor Park and now they have my grandma’s yard (complete with chicken coop and everything).

Walking with Archie. Harry mutters “this is a great love story” while pushing an empty newborn stroller (why? Where’s the baby? Is Meghan carrying the baby?). This is surreal.

Glamorous wedding shot (a melancholic reminder of past glories, frankly) and it turns into a closeup of Harry’s legs. Eew.

Meghan goes to the chicken coop. There’s a lot of cyclone fencing in this house.

Back to the Restoration Hardware Showroom. Meghan is in sweats because…I don’t know. Weird Instagram family pics including a sad little birthday party for Archie. Good lord, my kids had better parties than the King’s grandson. This is so pathetic.

Oh, no. She got the cheap Amazon patio furniture protectors. At least they match the cyclone fencing.

More family Instagram. They are protecting their kids…by putting them in a documentary?

Did I just see Harry’s underwear??!! Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Between the sale of family pics, the family drama, and the plumber’s crack, I’m starting to feel that Meghan married her dad.

Harry talks about consent with regards to his children…but they are too young to consent so it doesn’t really makes sense. Guess he thinks it’s only his consent that matters.

My husband asks if Harry is an addict. I suspect it’s partly his demeanor and partly the inconsistencies in the narrative. Meghan said she’d prefer Prince Harry, and that showed how little she knew about the royals? Media exposure requires consent, but your kids are in a documentary? Harry doesn’t seem to realize that these things make no sense.

I feel the way they structured these confessionals with an invisible interviewer was a big mistake. Oprah’s presence during that interview served to validate their shady claims. She has a lot of credibility so when she nodded and smiled people trusted that. It made their statements credible. Here they don’t have that and all the contradictions are apparent.

They’re in the yard. Meghan is trying to channel Martha Stewart and failing. Martha wouldn’t have cyclone fencing, Megs.

Meghan in sweats in the Restoration Hardware showroom. BIG expensive drug rehab vibes. I bet this is what all the rich women wear at the Betty Ford Clinic. She complains that other people write books about them and “wouldn’t it make sense to hear our story from us?” Actually, Megs it’s becoming painfully clear that the tabloids and royal biographers have made you two look a lot more interesting, glamorous and stylish than you really are. Left to your own devices you two are boring as dry toast.

Really cool shots of London. Whoa, the city looks great! They spent money on these. They probably should have spent that cash making California look good. London is their past and California is their future and so far their past looks a lot cooler and more glamorous than their future.

Tig Instagram pic montage. I wonder who was taking these? She should have rehired the photographer because the family pics she has now are terrible. These were much better. Her Tig life feels a lot more upscale and aspirational than her current Montecito existence which goes to show what good photography can do. LOL, she used the airport with the Ghurka suitcase. Yes, she didn’t know she was going to meet a prince and that’s why she traded in her Rowena for the luggage brand the princes are known to use.

Pics from what appears to be Harry’s private Instagram. Interesting—wait, the Insta rumor was real? What the? Good lord why would you admit that in a documentary???!! This is freaking surreal. Whyyyyy?”

[To those who don’t know. There was a rumor back in 2016 that Meghan was a designated Soho House “companion” and the girls were “advertised” through a private Insta account run by Marcus. If you liked a girl you could DM Marcus and get an introduction…which seems to be exactly what Harry did. I don’t understand why they would mention this in a a documentary. Everyone bought the Violet von Westerwhatever blind date story. They should have stuck to that.]

I wonder how the mainstream audience is reacting to the new instagram story. The original story got a lot of coverage and a critical mass of people may start to wonder what the heck is going on. Even my husband is skeptical and I don’t think he knew the blind date story.

BTW, the fact that she was following his account was known in Toronto as soon as the relationship story broke. Interesting.

“Friend” talking about Wimbledon. She’s actually Serena Williams agent so I’m not sure why she’s labeled as a friend. Wimbledon, blah, blah, blah. Lol, Again, Meghan’s old life appears a heck of a lot more glamorous than her current one. OMG, she told Serena’s agent she was going on a date with Harry??!! She was telling everyone wasn’t she?

Texting. She was posting all of this to Insta as it was happening which is absolutely hilarious. Actually, this whole documentary reminds of the early days of the relationship when she was posting everything on Insta and leaking stories to US Weekly constantly. They really wanted all of this material out there and waiting until they got paid for it probably took probably took enormous self discipline. Guess they took Doria's "don't give the milk away for free" advice to heart.

I just realized she’s wearing Trevor’s Cartier bracelet during her monologues and that cracks me up.

More cheap stock footage. Seriously, how much did Netflix pay for this? Endless chat about their first date, which is nowhere near as interesting as they seem to think it is. They should have stuck to the blind date story. It was slightly more interesting. Bad Soho House selfie.

Nacho shows up as a “friend” and he’s really Harry’s promo buddy. The Silver Tree person was also a Suits director. Everyone is a business contact in this documentary. All these white people in California resort wear are giving me White Lotus Season 3 vibes.

Baseball hat pics in a messy kitchen…these two are hellbent on shedding whatever royal glamour they had left. Wait, isn’t this an old picture from Toronto? Like real old, first year in Toronto kind of old. What a weird choice.

“Marry someone who fits the mould instead of someone you are destined to be with” followed by a pic of Megs trying to look sexy in a wifebeater shirt. Does the director secretly hate them? He was born in a palace but he had a trailer park heart…she was a tacky actress from the wrong side of the tracks…they were destined to be together selling family pics to the tabloids just like dad…it’s a family traditioooooooon….

Old royal footage…Diana…Charles…childhood photocalls, which Harry seems to resent, but he’s doing the same to his kids in this documentary, so I really don’t understand what he’s thinking. The Diana footage is a big misstep because wow Di was charismatic and these two losers can’t hold a candle to her.

Thirteen whole minutes of archival footage, most of it stuff his parents “consented” to, and lots of whining about press intrusion. Dude, you’re in a reality show. You’re putting your kids on television. Know where you stand.

Then a slew of private couple pics that they really should have kept private. Love the wallpaper. Bet that was Frogmore. The documentary is rather disorienting. I can’t tell what house they are in or when the pictures were taken.

Boom. “So much of what Meghan is and how she is is so similar to my mom.” My husband actually rewinds this part to make sure he heard right. Pic of Diana with her kids in the garden and then another pic of Meghan with her kids in the garden. Very similar gardens. Not so similar women.

“He wanted to marry his mom?” my husband asks.

Cringe video of Archie with a Diana photo. “I didn’t want history to repeat itself,” Harry says.

“He did want to marry his mom,” my husband says, amazed. “So he can save her this time.” Shaking his head. “This is nuts but it’s television gold. Did the brother marry his mummy too?”

“No,” I said.

“And the brother is the one who gets to be king, right?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good.”

More monologue about their courtship. Lol, they really did leak the handholding painting to the press. Footage comparing Megs to Di and it’s painfully obvious she’s nowhere near as charismatic.

Diana’s death and more archival footage. This documentary is a humongous downer, isn’t it? Childhood friend of Harry’s I’d never heard about. Was he invited to the wedding? I don't think so. Strong White Lotus vibes coming from this guy.

Diana’s funeral. Harry’s drug scandal. Hellraiser Harry. Bitching about paparazzi. No mention of Vegas, which is weird. You’d think that would be the big traumatic story about media intrusion. I guess he only wants to blame the UK media and Vegas was a TMZ story in the states and the UK media wasn’t allowed to print the pictures so it doesn't fit his narrative.

More whining about royal photocalls…except for the Lesotho photo ops which Harry didn’t seem to mind. Bit of a disconnect there because those were royal pr as well. In fact, it was the way the royals rehabilitated his image after the drug scandal. Seems like Harry only hates the royal pr he can’t personally monetize. Why isn’t Sentenbale getting a shout out? You’d think he would plug the charity here (Audi, Soho House, and JP Morgan got very obvious brand placements) but if he did I missed it. [Edited: Should have added the house to the list of product placements]

LOL, Prince Seesio straight out says that the Lesotho vacation was a response to the bad press in the UK. They should have briefed him better. I don’t think he was supposed to say that.

Botswana vacay with Meghan. Wow, the Daily Mail made this look a lot more glamorous than it actually was. This wasn’t exactly glamping, was it? Were there showers? No, best to not go there. No charities are mentioned. No mention of the “love” bracelets, just a Daily Mail article shot.

More whining about press intrusion then private Halloween pics that really should have stayed private. Lol, they went to a party with Eugenie after the relationship was leaked. Tell me you leaked the relationship without telling me you leaked the relationship. I bet Meghan wanted to post this on her Insta and Jason didn’t let her. I wish they’d let her. The press reaction to the Call of Duty costume would have been epic.

Harry doesn’t seem to be catching on. If you were in disguise and no one knew you went to this party except Meghan, Jack and Eugenie, then who exactly leaked it, Harry? Because we knew about it a day later.

That’s a Toronto newspaper, the same one that had the leak about Meghan following Harry’s private account. At the time the evil British tabloids were actually under the impression Harry was still in England and had cancelled a trip to visit Toronto.

The other outlet who got the scoop early was our old friend US Weekly, and the byline was by a then-unknown gossip hack called Omid Scobie. Given what we know now about their relationship with Scobie. Yep, I think these two just confessed to leaking stories about their own relationship.

The DM had to quote the Toronto paper and US Weekly when they finally broke the story on the other side of the pond.

Interesting that Meghan and Harry’s “new and improved super real love story” is the one that was being leaked in Toronto and not the one that the evil UK tabloids had supposedly uncovered through nefarious means. I don’t understand why they are changing the story, though. The blind date wasn’t a tabloid rumor. It’s what they themselves said during a BBC interview.

End of episode. Overall, I feel this was a huge missed opportunity. Not much about his work in Africa or her UN/One Young World work. We hear about Harry’s photography but barely see it. It’s their chance to tell their story and their story is “we’re boring and tacky people who sell pics of their kids.” I feel they really wanted to put the “real” story of how they met out there—the IG dog pic, the Call of Duty costume, the crappy Soho House selfie. It reminds me of her old Working Actress blog where she was constantly stressing how unglamorous acting life really was.

I’m not blown away by the quality either. Their home movies feel cheap and curiously inauthentic. They should have run everything through a filter to make it feel coherent and cohesive. The stock/archival footage is sometimes great (London and the royal family), sometimes cheap (Soho House), sometimes missing (California), and sometimes misleading (pap shots of Chelsy, Cressida and Kate that are narrated as though Meghan was the victim).

The documentary lacks the authoritative tone most documentaries have. You really feel it’s “their” side of the story and not the “real” story. I think the problem is how they switch from the couples’ personal narrative, confessionals, and personal pics into historical pictures and public royal narratives. The institutional credibility of the royal shots makes the personal material feel biased and unreliable. The videos of Charles and the kids interacting with photographers, in particular are massive own goals because they remind the viewers that everything, including Meghan and Harry’s pictures and videos, includes invisible photographers. It’s just that the Harkles are hiding that from us, whereas the royals are upfront about it. The confessionals in the rehab setting, in particular, were huge mistakes, imo. They feel like reality show confessionals (like the ones the Housewives franchise uses) and viewers are trained to see those as unreliable narrations. Using someone else's house was also a bad idea. It feels fake.

The whole thing feels very chaotic and unconvincing. My husband thinks they are both addicts and I remember thinking that when they first started doing their beanie hat appearances. I ask him why and he cites the dilated pupils, contradictory narratives, family resentments and couch-surfing at other people’s housing. He says it’s standard junkie drama.

Other family members are watching and most of the group chat (lawyers and social workers) reaches the same conclusion: even the royals have junkie kid drama. The social worker says she has tons of clients like Meghan and the all sound the same. “They’re trying to destroy us.” “It’s a great love story.” “I don’t know how we ended up here.” “What happened.” They are all more interested in having their side of the story validated than in actually fixing the problem and they just repeat the same family dynamics over and over again. That’s why Harry is showing us pics of his kids in the house/garden/vacation right after complaining that his parents showed the world pictures of him, his bother, and his cousins in the house/garden/vacation. She noticed that he posted a pic of himself in military gear (the Halloween pic) as an adult and a similar one of himself a kid. He also posted skiing pics with the royals and then similar pics in the sand in California. She’s says he’s basically re-living his childhood and trying to get it right this time.

I didn’t expect many people in my family would be interested in this, but they are all having fun psychoanalyzing these two. Everyone thinks this is Harry rewriting his past so he gets to save his mum this time. Meghan’s motivations are less clear. No one believes she didn’t know who he was. The psychologist says it’s weird that Meghan’s side of the love story was just “it was exciting…we just got to know each other….” Her motivation is not that clear, although there was that one story about wanting to be protected from the elephants in the tent. Opinion is split with half the chat thinking she wanted to be rescued by Prince Charming and the other half (the psychologists and social workers) thinking that as an actress her fantasy would be A Star is Born. The psychologist says those two are not that different. In the Prince Charming fantasy you get rescued by an individual and in the Star is Born fantasy you are rescued by an institution, i.e., the studio or Hollywood. She thinks her fantasy was A Star is Born and that’s why she’s so resentful now. I think we’d discussed that in the blog before. Interesting to hear someone else saying it. Meghan didn’t want a love story where she was rescued by Harry, she wanted a Hollywood success story where she was acclaimed as a star by the palace. She didn’t get that and that’s why she’s still upset even though she got the Prince Charming love story. That’s not what she wanted. Harry got the fantasy he wanted, so he’s not as upset.

Not much support for the theory (mine) that she was manipulating him consciously. Everyone seems to think it’s a case of two mental illnesses falling in love, along with junkie drama. That’s why Harry is so amazed at their “fantastic love story.” He wanted to marry his mum and she wanted to be his mum. That’s a pretty unlikely combination.

I’m very curious about the “friends” featured in this episode. No Jess, no Markus, no Misha Nonoo, no one from the Suits cast except Abigail Spencer, and no Janina. Everyone seems to be a business partner of some sort. Cory was missing also, but it makes sense that she wouldn’t mention him. Reitman’s wasn’t mentioned either but I guess she doesn’t want to give them press.

I don’t understand why they didn’t lean into the charity work angle. She was doing One Young World and he was working Africa. Her "You can be Both" essay wasn't mentioned either and I feel they should have led with that instead of going with her “single girl trip” and the not-so-glam Botswana vacation. I also don’t understand why we didn’t see more of Harry’s supposedly amazing wildlife photography. After all, they are trying to build a career as documentary producers. You’d think that would be relevant. The big takeaways from this episode are: Meghan is mummy and I saw history repeating itself so I had to save her. “Save Mummy” seems like a weird narrative to craft a brand around, but my husband is right. It’s television gold.

On to the next episode.

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