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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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Looking for a Place to Happen

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: We’re starting Sam’s installment but this weekend I’ll probably only be catching up on my headcanons and drabbles because I’ve been a lazy bitch and I’m sorry to those who have been waiting.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: I've got a job, I explore

💀💀💀

The sleepy town of Birch was awake.

In those last weeks, the arrival of outsiders had roused the attention of many once passive residents of the timeless territory. Those brick buildings unchanged by the tick of the clock inlaid into the old tower above the library that chimed every hour on the hour. They still stood with only chips in the mortar but the air tasted different. The frost was more bitter and the sky more grim. An omen of something no one could predict.

It was the perfect setting for a screenplay. The isolated town with its unsavoury secrets and the visitors who threatened to bring them to the surface. It was inspiring to you, to imagine what was hidden behind the stern wrinkled faces of the town elders and under the jackets of those men who wore the cut of the local club. The bikers ruled the town covertly but everyone knew that Bucky Barnes’ palm was lined with the map of Birch.

As a bystander, an unnoticed observer, just another ant in the hill, you watched from the side and amused yourself with the drama of others. It was like a soap opera or another HBO hype machine. Those things you aspired to when you could be free of this ho-hum town.

The snows added to the natural gloom of the place. The deep heaps smothered the noise and harkened back to those days of colonial settlement. Forgotten, desolate, fearful.

You ventured down in your heavy boots that stretched to your knees and pushed your chin down into your scarf. As a child, you ran and jumped in those piles, now you were out of breath just trying to walk past them.

You stopped in the bakery that doubled as the only café, a place where the owner, Babs, tried to to intimidate the last caffeinated trends. She was always a few seasons behind but you didn’t mind so much.

You ordered the salted caramel mocha and waited patiently as the quiet woman fought with the steaming machines. She was older than you but you’d work with her for one summer during high school, only five years ago. She had the eyes of a child still, but there was something worn in her. As if she’d been exposed to far too much in her three or so decades in that place. She was a harbinger of what you didn’t want to become.

You thanked her for your drink and set out once more into the billowing winds. Birch winters were never kind but this one was crueler than most. Your teeth chattered as you blew the steam away from the lid and hugged it with your mittened hands.

You stopped short as you heard the familiar ding of the diner door across the street. You recognised the mechanic who kept to herself and once growled at you in the grocery store. She stormed across the street, followed closely and quickly by a black-haired man you’d only seen once before. He was one of those outsiders who came to deal with the club men.

You sped up as you sensed chaos brewing and pulled out your phone as you balanced your paper cup in your other hand. You flicked your camera on just as you got to the front of the shop and the man grabbed the mechanic. You let out an ‘oop’ as she turned on him and you aimed the lens at the couple as they fell into the snow, the man’s shoes giving little traction to his steps.

You moved closer, stunned by the scene, and kept your cell phone rolling as you found a better angle around the snowy walks. As she choked him on the ground he elbowed her and she coughed as she rolled away. She snarled as he clamoured to his feet, slipping and sliding as he marched away.

You killed the recording and watched the man cross the street again, nearly wiping out as he did and when you looked back to the mechanic, she was gone behind the clattering door. You chuckled to yourself and tucked away your cell. It was prime footage for TikTok; with a bit of editing, it would be comedy gold.

💀

You stomped up the steps of your grandmother’s house, this time through the front door as you heard her chair rocking in the front room. You usually took the stairs in the back as you paid her to live on the upper floor of the duplex. You checked in with her daily, she didn’t get out much more than the occasional trip to the grocery store when you couldn’t or you dragged her out to join you for a tea at Babs’.

“You’re late,” she grumbled as you set your cup down and unzipped your coat.

“For what?” you scoffed.

“It’s after noon and you don’t even come down to say hello? A ‘good morning, nan’,” she harrumphed.

You chuckled and hung your coat before shoving your boots over on the mat. You grabbed your mocha and leaned on the doorway as you watched her crocheting in her chair, reruns of some court show playing from the boxy television.

“I was working,” you said, “sent in some stuff for review. Hopefully not much work to be done.”

“I don’t know how you make money on that interweb,” she bemoaned, “I don’t trust it.”

“Maybe you’d trust it more if you used the Netflix subscription I got you,” you crossed your arms, “then you wouldn’t have to watch trash daytime TV.”

She shrugged and muttered under her breath. She could be crotchety but you liked her sense of humour. Your aunts and uncles never came around because they just took it as spite. You were the only one who knew how to handle the jaded old lady.

“Maybe you coulda looked out the window,” you snickered, “quite a show going on in town.”

“Hmm, what’s that?” she stilled her needles and reached for her tea stained cup.

“Just a fight. You wouldn’t believe it, that lady mechanic beat the shit--”

“Language,” she huffed.

“Anyway, she had this guy in a chokehold. It was awesome.”

“What guy?” she squinted at you over her glasses.

“I dunno. Some out of towner. Remember I told you about that burly dude hanging around the library?”

“There’s more?” she sucked on her teeth, “those bikers have never been good news and now they’re bringing in more.”

“Yeah, well, what’re you gonna do?” you sniffed as you took out your phone and rewatched the scuffle with the volume down. You shook your head and opened up your TikTok.

“I don’t understand why you’re always on your dang phone,” your grandmother pestered.

“I’m not always on my phone,” you smiled at her smugly, “there are those time when I’m listening to you prattle on or you know, making you tea, oh, and cooking you dinner. What was it I did last week? Oh that’s right, I got Pippin out of the crawlspace.”

“I’m too old to be chasin’ that cat all around,” she huffed, “where is he anyway?”

“He’s your cat, I don’t know? Last time I saw him, I sent him back out the window for shredding my charger.”

“He knows you need to give it a rest,” she laughed to herself, “got your nose to that screen too much.”

“And what do you do, old lady? Crocheting doilies to put where exactly?”

She gave you that dry smile, the one that said watch it but carried a hint of humour still. You hit post and put your phone away as you waved off her irritation.

“Well, you know what, I sit all day at my computer, doing who knows what and you know what it got me?” you taunted, “a large mocha!” you sipped as you sat on the sofa and grabbed the remote, “and it’s paying my rent and putting bullet points on my resume.”

“Mhmm,” she scowled, “just remember, real life ain’t online. Those videos you’re always laughing at like hyena, that’s not reality. You forget it and it’ll come back and bit you. ‘Specially with those bikers.”

“Oh, nan, you know too well, don’t you? Didn’t you have a fling with one back in your hippie phase?”

“Two, actually,” she raised her brows, “I was young and stupid. Not like you, but still.”

“I love you too,” you chirped and sipped from your cup, flicking the station to Jerry Springer, “that’s more like it.”

💀

Your usual TikToks were sarcastic and dull complaints about your small town life. The response was less than pleasing but it gave you an outlet to vent. You liked to goof around and document the very specific type of weirdos that resided in Birch. But the video of the fight in the snow blew up your phone and made it difficult to ignore the buzzing as you went back up to your room to eke out the last of your captions for the ad agency.

When at last you could call your day hard-earned, you logged off and sent in your hours to the agency. Social media promotion was easy enough but the working gigs for a thousand different companies was tedious. You hoped you could build your portfolio enough to manage a single corporate page as you continued to chip away at your creative outlets.

You picked up your phone as you waited for Netflix to load on your tiny smart tv and flopped onto your bed, not two feet from your desk. You hit the icon in the upper panel of your phone and scrolled through the notifications, pausing to turn on another episode of the cable sitcom from ten years before. You snorted as you read each comment but the number under the video made your eyes round. The thing was bound to go viral.

As usual, you went down to help with supper. Pippin, the orange tabby, returned to cry at his dish and you fed him too. Your nan peered through her glasses at a crossword as she tasted the tangy pasta sauce.

“More basil,” she snipped.

“Well, I asked if you wanted to help,” you muttered, “I think it’s good.”

“Hmmp, I need milk,” she jutted her chin out, “for my after-dinner tea.”

“You couldn’t say something like three hours ago?” you blinked.

“I could have but I didn’t,” she snickered. You rolled your eyes and she took another forkful of penne and filled in another line on her puzzle, “ah, no hurry, girlie, you know I’m patient.”

“Patient? You?” you chuckled as you took your plate and shoved it in the microwave to keep it warm. The ancient thing had a dial and the door stuck, “I’ll just go get it over with.”

“Don’t forget your mitts,” she called after you as you tramped into the front room, “it’s cold.”

You pulled on your knitted cap and matching mitts. You zipped up your parka and shoved your feet into the deep boots. You grabbed your wallet and buried it in the spacious pocket. You bounced out the front door and down the steps as the sky sent down another coat of powder for the night.

You went up White Forge Street and through the short path behind the diner that led to the main road. You glanced over at The Asp, the beacon of the dull town, and turned towards the grocer. Like anywhere in Birch, the store was outdated and stuffy. It felt like stepping into another time with the paper bags and chunky tills.

You went down the center aisle and stopped at the fridge to search through the frosted glass. Your nan only drank whole milk and the last time you carelessly grabbed skim, she whined that even Pippin wouldn’t drink it. She was particular but that was just her nature. You couldn’t say you were any less fussy in some instances.

You grabbed a jug and the door slapped closed against the worn rubber seal. You headed up the candy aisle and brushed your woolly thumb over your chin as you considered gummy bears or Reeses’ Pieces.

“Hard choice?” The deep voice jolted you.

You snatched the box of chocolate and looked over at the man in leather, his chin tucked down behind the collar as snow dusted his shoulders.

“Sure,” you said as you brushed past him.

The cut of the leather told you he was better not entertained. While you thought the men amusing, you weren’t stupid enough to engage with them. You rarely listened to your grandmother but she was wise in her own way.

You knew a girl in highschool, she was fucking around with one of the club men in her junior year, she ended up with a baby and no support. You didn’t think he was into you that way but he could hardly have innocent intentions.

“How’s the old lady?” Clayton asked as he rung in your order at the end of the belt, you moved along with the groceries and pulled out your wallet.

“The usual, you know? She’s tryna quit again. Don’t know how long it’ll last.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll keep a carton aside for her,” he kidded as you felt your phone vibing in your back pocket.

“Don’t encourage her,” you swiped your card and punched in your pin, “although I don’t know what’s worse; the smoke or her sucking on those mints all the time.”

“Oh, it’s not the bitchin’?” he laughed.

“That, too,” you scooped up the paper bag and put your wallet away, “have a good one.”

As you came to the end of the first counter, you were nearly cut off by the club member as he swept around from till two. His own purchase of a car magazine and jerky was tucked under his arm.

“Ah, sorry,” he smiled, a sparkling smile, almost charming.

“No worries,” you continued on and he followed close behind.

“Those mitts look real warm. ‘Specially in this weather,” he said as you pushed open the door.

“Uh huh,” you kept on as your boots crunched out into the snow.

“You know where I can get a pair. Leather isn’t exactly thermal, you know?”

“These? My nan made ‘em. I’m sure Clayton got some hung up back there,” you looked across the street as you stepped up onto the ledge of snow between the sidewalk and the road.

“Am I bothering you?” he asked.

You looked at him dumbly and almost laughed in his face. You glanced back across the street then down towards The Asp.

“Sorta,” you answered.

“Make you a deal. Leave ya alone for your name.”

You eyed him. He was older than you like many of the Commandos. At least a decade, likely more than that. You chewed on your hesitation and cradled the bag more firmly against your side. His eyes strayed as he tried to see through the thick layer of your coat.

“Nah, I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers,” you said and hopped off onto the road.

You heard him behind you as he struggled to follow and as you came up to the other side, he came parallel with you and kept stride with you easily.

“I know you’re young but you’re not a kid,” he intoned, “what’s the harm in a name?”

“It’s a small town,” you stopped short of the end of White Forge, “I think I know enough about you to avoid you.”

“Oh ho, is that it? Well, I’m Sam, I’m not a stranger now, am I?”

“Not interested, Sam. Sure there’s women your own age over at the bar,” you nodded behind him.

“You wanna come see? Maybe have a drink?” he gave a crooked grin.

“You don’t give up, do you?” you shook your head, put off by his forwardness.

“Well?”

“Not tonight, Sam,” you turned around and headed down White Forge.

“Then what night?” he asked but you didn’t answer and he didn’t follow.

You turned down onto your street and refused to look back in case. It would be best not to mention the run-in to your nan, she was paranoid enough as it was. Besides, you’d forget about it by the end of next week.

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writingmyheartsout · 3 years

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Sweet Dreams (are made of this)

The idea i had was basically, what about them after the war?

So after whumptober and having done nothing in November, i thought of a sort of “fluff” December. This is the first one, so hopefully i will post more ...(i do have few other prompts in my wips)

That said, enjoy!

warning: too much sweetness (maybe a bit of an hint to panic attacks), wine drinking (mentioned)

pairing: Fives x (ex) medic!reader

prompt: slow dancing

as always, comments, likes & reblogs are very welcomed (also this came out longer than expected....but i blame Fives for this)

I also wanna thank @plexflexico for listening to my rambling and encourage me throught this (wait until you read the one about Wolffe...)

___

"May I have this dance?..." your husband said, immediately getting up from the couch where both of you were seated.

"What? No, Fives...I don't think I can make it, I'm way too drunk," you replied, trying hard not to laugh.

"Pretty please..." he added, nearly begging.

"We've been drinking for two hours now and you expect me to be able to get up?" you reiterated..."I don't think I can manage to dance".

"Leave it to me then, I can hold you" he proposed, taking your hand and helping you "... you only need to hold on to me".

Your life felt so simple right now that you hardly believed it. During the war, everything had always been so confusing, either on the run or on the battlefield, every night you stayed up thinking about him, worrying about his safety when he and his company were deployed somewhere far away in the galaxy, but then the war suddenly ended, you didn't know how but you didn't care that much, and life went back to being easy again just with something more.

There had been times when you had talked about marriage, making jokes about how the ceremony should be and moving away from all the chaos of the city, but with Fives you soon learned to take nothing seriously, so you hadn't thought much about it. To your surprise, the first thing he did after leaving the GAR was to officially propose to you, which left you utterly speechless.

This brings you here, two years later, and a small house with a beautiful view over the lake, perfect for both of you and maybe for a child or two in the future.

"As far as I remember, you are also quite drunk...", you said, looking at him in the eyes once you were up.

Meanwhile, both of you were slowly swaying to the soft music in the background.

"I can handle my alcohol much better than you, love... due to me being a professional soldier," he stated, teasing you.

"former soldier.... and a really fast metabolism," you continued.

"And a very fast metabolism...", he mocked, rolling his eyes over your statement.

"Oh come on, like I don't have to go grocery shopping every three days, you're lucky I love you."

" Well, you're lucky that I love to cook for both of us, then" he replied, giving you a gentle kiss on the lips.

During his years in the army, Fives was always so hyper-aware that he usually had severe panic attacks after long campaigns, after meeting you he learned to focus on things and calm down when necessary but he began to find comfort in your company as well. You quickly became his own personal everything, even if he didn't know that yet.

"How did I get so lucky?" he said right after, tightening his arms around you even more.

The music was long gone but both of you were too lost in each other to notice.

"I think you earned it by being clever enough to meet me," you declared with confidence.

"If I remember correctly, you wanted to kill me when we first met," he pointed out.

"More or less, luckily you didn't give up so easily."

The first time you met him had been very much embarrassing, at least for him. He approached you with the most pathetic pickup line you had ever heard that you almost laughed in his face. You didn't like him at all at first, too arrogant for your taste so you were sure that ignoring him was the best solution.

On the other hand, he wasn't the type to give up so easily.

That same night you took pity on him and granted him an hour, only to find out soon after that he was... incredibly nice, despite all of that facade.

After that time, you two became inseparable, but with him being an active ARC trooper and you, a civilian doctor, things were very complicated but you made this work somehow...

"So, what now?" he hesitantly asked after a moment...

"Let's prepare dinner and then watch some bad holomovie..." you playfully proposed.

"I mean, with us..." he paused, looking away for a moment, then adding, "when I married you, it was the happiest day I've ever lived, and with me returning back to normal, I...we have a long life ahead of us and I..."

"Fives, relax..." you stepped in, lightly kissing him on the lips and stopping his rambling "...we have so many more days to spend together, we have time to do what we want and how we want it...".

"I know...", he simply replied, resting his forehead on yours and holding you even more tightly in his arms.

He was well aware that you were right, there was absolutely no need to hurry... now that the worst had passed...

When the war ended all the clones were finally granted citizenship, therefore all their chips were finally removed. They soon discovered that without it they would continue to grow older at a normal speed, even though their metabolism seemed to continue to be faster than others but the point, however, was that they were now able to have a more normal life.

The first time Fives told you, one night when you both were out stargazing, that he and his brothers had been created to be expendable and that their lives lasted at most thirty years, the first thing you felt was rage.

You had already heard something about it, but it was just a rumor that circulated from time to time in the Academy, something that certainly couldn't be true, so knowing that it was real and that someone had bothered to mess with other people's lives made you uncomfortable at first. Then came the fear, fear of losing him and never seeing him again, fear that someone else could decide about your and his happiness without worrying much about the consequences.

So, when everything finally settled down, when peace was restored, whatever fear that had been with you until now was gone.

"Don't get all mushy on me now, you know that no matter what happens, I'll be by your side, right? That's why I married you, to annoy you as long as we live," you told him, comforting him.

"Yes...." he said, smiling a bit at your jest.. "it's just... you know," he added.

"I know..." you repeated, then reaching out with one hand and gently stroking his cheek.

Having all the time in the galaxy seemed so scary at first, especially for someone who used to not have any, but having you at his side made it look less confusing.

He surely was lucky to have met you that day, and so did you.

Like i said, i do have more fluff prompts so i’ll posting more about domestic life...i do want to, i just have to find the time

#writemyheartsout's writing #arc trooper fives #fives x reader #arc trooper fives x reader #former arc trooper fives x reader #star wars the clone wars #december fluff #what if #after the war #tw panic attack #tw drinking #tw wine

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kajsa-writes-sometimes · 3 years

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Chp. III: The Second Letter

When the morning post came around, the clicking sound of a typewriter being used at an almost inhuman speed filled Angelina's home. Outside the world was wide-awake, and the concentrated writer let the bustling sounds of the street lul her into a world of her own.

Maybe that was why she didn't hear the knock at her door. No matter the reason, the thick, cream coloured envelope that dumbed down into the light grey letterbasket on the inside of the door went unnoticed for several hours.

Around noon she rose to her feet and stretched as far as she could reach. Her neck cracked and there came a popping sound from her right shoulder.

"I think it is just about time for lunch," she mumbled to herself as she looked at the pile of papers that lay neatly stacked next to her typewriter. "This is as good a time as any and let's face it, you are not going to run off in my absence."

Had anyone been around to hear her, they might have found it rather odd that she talked to no one in particular - and even more odd that she sometimes led entire conversations with her characters or herself. But no one was around to listen and as long as she did not expect an answer, Angelina really didn't have any concerns about her sanity.

Trudging over to the corner that substituted for the kitchen, she found a plate and placed half the pie Amanda had insisted she bring home back in the bag. She would eat half a pie now and half a pie at dinner, and then she would buy groceries on her way back from the newspaper tomorrow. There was, afterall, a pile of letters with her name on it, and she had a week's worth of columns she had to turn in.

With the plate in one hand and a fork with bent teeth in the other, she turned around to walk back to the table. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of something laying in her letter basket, and then she bent over slightly to place the plate next to the half finished first draft of her newest novel. Grabbing the chair, she was about to move it half a foot to the right so she wouldn't risk spilling pie on the pages– and then she froze.

Turning her head her eyes landed on the cream coloured envelope that awaited her attention. Her blood ran cold at the sight of it. As she walked over and lifted it from the basket, she debated what she dreaded most: A threat of ruining her career, or the possibility that he would stick to insulting her in the privacy of their correspondence.

How many letters did it even take for one to call it a correspondence? This was the second letter she received and counting her own reply that made up a correspondence of three letters.

Whatever the Duke had written to tell her, the sheer thickness of the envelope told her it would not be a short letter. It was almost as thick as her pinky, but if he wrote on the same paper he had used the last time, it was probably only half the pages it would have taken her to get the same volume.

She carefully slid the letter open. She flipped through the pages before she started to read.

"How many pages does one need?" she murmured as she leaned back on the chair and stretched her feet out in front of her. "He might as well have sent me a novel. Now let's see– where to start…"

She found the first page and began reading.

Dear Miss Ravenloft,

Let me begin by putting your mind at ease. Your letter was as delicately formulated as your novels, and I dare say that only a brute would be offended by what you wrote on those pages. Hopefully this short paragraph has given you one less burden to bear, and I hope that by the end of this letter you will let me lift more than this one burden from your shoulders.

Reading over your reply I realise, my first letter must have been unclear on several accounts. Please forgive me, Miss Ravenloft, for the misunderstanding and the confusion my first letter created. I will take it as a testimony to why you are the writer and I, a mere admirer of your work!

On the following pages I will try to clear up any misunderstandings created by my last letter, and then I will try to calm your mind on the matter of the not entirely unrelated business you mentioned in your reply to my aforementioned letter.

You wrote that you do not feel deserving of the support I offered you — and I want to empathize that the support I'm offering is in no way restricted to financial aid — if all I got out of it was the measly pages of your books.

This is not true. Your books are by no known standard measly, as you like to call them. I enjoy your writings to such an extent that I have copies of them in my library both at my land estate, my champers at Hemwick University, and in my London residence.

Angelina stopped reading to do the math. If he had bought three copies of her previous publications that would mean he was responsible for– that couldn't be right! She did the math over in her head, but she did not get a different number.

"I'm just going to ignore how much of my revenue that adds up to," she mumbled. Before she picked up the letter once more, she stuck a piece of pie in her mouth and started chewing.

If my word is not enough to convince you that I would be satisfied to support you knowing that it would help you continue to write then this story must surely convince you. If you are still hesitant to accept my offer without doing anything in return, I will make you a second proposal: Continue to write your stories and let me read the novels when they are published. Apart from this I will ask you to spend a week with me in London in the summer, and a week at my land estate in the winter. On top of this you will agree to meet with me when I stay at Hemwick University. All of this will naturally take place under the supervision of a chaperone of your own choosing– it could be a lady friend of yours, one of your relatives, or maybe a young woman from my household staff.

I think we can agree that this arrangement will solve the problem of you not working hard enough to earn your keep. If there is something about my proposal, you find unsuitable or that you fear will reflect badly on your reputation, please let me know in your reply so that we can change the offending detail to your liking.

I will — in one of my coming letters — attach a list of possible dates for your first visit at my London estate. I know there is a little more than four months until the start of the season, but I will need to inform my staff that two extra rooms will have to be prepared for your arrival.

Now, before you start arguing about the amount I offered in my first letter, I will not budge. Before reaching out to you, I consulted my sources — in whom I have the greatest trust — who let me know how much a respectable pensionate costs nowadays. I know the amount I offered is somewhat higher than this amount, but I doubt you are able to live off of your words alone and surely you need money to spend on both paper and ink to create your stories.

If you have any concerns about whether or not the agreed amount will be enough to cover your expenses, you should write to me immediately. The same should be the case if you find yourself in need of covering unplanned expenses. I will set up a bank account in a bank of your liking once I receive your reply to this letter. If you have no preferred bank, I will set up an account for you in my preferred branch.

This part of the letter took far longer to write than anticipated so I shall try and make the following as short as possible.

I have reached out to some associates of mine who know the industry. They have let me know that there is a pall of scepticism when it comes to your work, but they do not see it as an impossible task to get your next novel published through a “publisher in the Empire” as you formulated it in your letter. It might take some convincing, but my associates assure me that it is nothing a well formulated letter will not fix. My associates have collected a list of publishers they feel would be possible to persuade. I considered sending it along, but I feel it is better we discuss it face to face so that you can have some influence on the discussion with a publisher of your choice.

I hope this letter has put your mind to ease and answered some of the misunderstandings and uncertainties left behind by my first letter to you. Please take your time to consider these new additions to our agreement and if necessary write for clarification.

I will be awaiting your reply,

Northern Hemwick

As she reached the end of the letter, Angelina resorted to stare blankly out the window. It wasn’t much she could see, but the soot covered, yellow bricks of the opposing building, and her eyes registered even less. She had been convinced, her letter had been easy enough to understand, but the rejection of the Duke’s offer to become her patron had apparently gone unnoticed– or at the least ignored.

“No, I can not handle this today,” she said as she stood. “I will send a note to Jean and get his opinion on the matter.”

She placed her empty plate and the fork on the stove. Still standing she grabbed a pen and scribbled a short note on a discarded piece of paper that she promptly stuck into an envelope. The door smacked close behind her as she went out to find someone who could deliver her message to Jean.

“If things continue like this, I won’t have to worry about a publisher; I will never get the chance to finish writing my story!”

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and I hope you enjoyed it half as much as I did. Please let me know by leaving a note, a like, or by reblogging this chapter - I'm grateful for all appreciation that comes my way

The entire story can be found on Wattpad or by following the links in this master post

#the true story of a poor writer and her unwanted patron #wip #write #writblr #writlr #writeblr #writing #kajsa writes #my writings #my writing #novel wip #original fiction #historical fiction #slow love #slow burn

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gdotsand · 4 years

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The Fastest Way Back Home - Prologue

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x Reader (Post Infinity War)

Summary - A collection of memories sprinkled along the road to regain what she lost.

Word Count -1,400 (ish)

Playlist Link - Link (will be updated as more chapters are added)

Warnings - Sadness. Angst. Bad jokes regarding muffins.

A/N - I really wanted my first published Bucky series to be happy, I really did. I fought my brain so hard but this was the first work in progress it allowed me to finish for him. I’m sorry in advance? I honestly get physical chest pains from writing this story because it also makes me sad but I will promise you happy endings and it wont (hopefully) all make you wanna curl into a ball and listen to sad songs. Likes, reblogs and feedback is always appreciated. Also big shoutout to Lara (it wont let me tag you), thank you for encouraging me to post this finally and listen to my ramblings. You’re the real MVP. Thank you - G.Sand

Present

He'd always said that the water calmed him, the darkness lapping against the small dock. One of the main reasons he'd thrust a pros and cons list into her hand the night after viewing the house. Top of the list, the water.

There were many other things on the list, a tree that seemed like it had grown specifically for a treehouse to be constructed against the thick branches.

A living room big enough if they pushed back the furniture he would be able to twirl her around barefoot as the record player in the corner softly played old country vinyls her grandfather left her when he passed.

A wrap around porch, sure it needed some work, some of the slats have fallen though, but he promised to replace them, whitewash them and share lazy Sunday afternoons drinking fresh lemonade and watching the sun disappear beyond the horizon.

It felt like a life time ago, sometimes, most of the time it felt like a fever dream. Calloused fingers against her jaw line, the slipping of a golden band onto her finger, her doing the same for him. Bright smiles and her mother softly wiping the tears from her cheeks. Promises of forever and always, promises of a future beyond the hurt and loss that lingered deep within his bones.

Promises of all perfect and beautiful things that would now never come true. Promises of a life away from bloodshed and fear. Away from anger and torment. Everything turned to dust that day, breathy whispers at some ungodly hour, promises, commands, vows, everything including the man she loved turned to dust, and she had no idea.

Sometimes she could pretend, pretend he was on a regular mission, or he'd gone out to a meeting or to the store. Because he was ever present in her home, their home. The photos that adorn the walls, his jacket is still on the hook by the door, weapons safe still locked. It can only be opened by a retinal scan that now didn't exist in the world. Tony he said he can override it, find a way to disable his own systems but she declined. What was the point anymore? What was the point in anything anymore?

So she looks out at the water. Watches as the sun starts to set, another day has been added to the tally marks somewhere etched into the walls of her brain. Filed away, so she wouldn't be able to recall an exact number if asked, but still enough to keep a permanent hole in her chest since that day. Its been almost five years, and Betsy is bordering on her birthday, and she wants, she prays that she can believe that Betsy is a happy child but it always feels like something is missing. Its in the depths of her eyes, in the dark curls that sit on top of her head a question that will forever go unanswered, at least not completely. Because no sweetheart your daddy isn't coming home and no bugs he was never home to begin with. Not really, not with both of his girls. So she take things day by day and who can blame her? Honestly what else do people expect. Not that theres many people left to judge her that is. So to hell with it.

If he was here, he'd tell her to buck up. She knows that, but even Tony dare not make that joke. He'd tell her that everything happens for a reason and that everything will work out in the end. But thats Bucky all over, and Bucky isn't here.

The light shifts into something reminiscent of artwork purple and oranges splayed across the horizon, and a smooth pebble is thrown into the icy darkness, it skips across the water at speed and disturbs the darkness, but eventually like everything else the ripples dissipate into nothingness again.

"See kiddo, it's all in the wrist" Tony says, and Betsy listens, she idolises her uncle Tony more than he can know however it's not lost on anyone else. Eager to please Betsy takes the second stone from his outstretched palm, skims it across the surface of the water and it bounces once, twice, three times before eventually sinks, and Betsy squeals as she hoisted into the air in celebration. Y/n could listen to the sound of her laugh till her dying day and never get bored of hearing that little girl enjoy the freedom of happiness, but y/n? She allows herself a smile and turns back to the water, because you know, it always said it calmed him.

Steve approaches slowly behind, careful not to make her jump in the process, spends a good minute or two just watching her. She's never been the same since the snap, okay, no one has been the same since the snap but out of everyone, he thinks that maybe y/n had it the worst. And sure he may be being an overdramatic asshole as Buck might have said once upon a time but Buck's not here to reprimand him. Even if he can hear his taunt somewhere far away, carried on the winds that come from wherever he is.

"He was right you know"

Steve hums at her as a response, an explanation waiting on the other-side of her tongue that for some reason needs to know that Steve is listening before y/n continues.

"It's pretty fucking calming when you think about it"

He hums again, but it's more of an amused tone.

"I came to talk to you specifically before we do this" he says, always a man to get right to the point is Steve Rogers, there is no proverbial bush and he'll be damned if he beats around it.

"Well I assumed you didn't come here just for my muffins Steve"

"You're a married woman can we not talk about your muffins"

"Ah, no one is talking about my muffins these days" and then earns her a chuckle at least. She's always had a way with words like that, always been the one to crack the jokes. First to make light of a situation that really doesn't need it.

"We can get him back, well" he swallows but continues "we can get all of them back, but we're going to bring him back y/n"

Y/N rolls her eyes and takes a couple of steps off the dock towards the house, "Don't make promises that you can't cash Rogers i'm not in the mood" she throws over her shoulder. It only takes half as many steps for Steve to catch up and stop her with a hand on her shoulder. There are already tears in her eyes, and it's a knee jerk reaction. Because she remembers the day that Steve had made that promise to her before, years ago.

5 Years Ago

The house was too quiet, the kind of quiet that strikes fear like a match in the pit of your stomach. The hollow feeling that just something, somewhere isn’t right. There are no books to read, no work to be done, no shows to watch and no mindless task that she can do that will keep her brain from thinking the inevitable. It’s always the case yet it never gets any easier.

Washing done, book shelves back into the correct organisation system. Dinner being planned in her subconscious because she has to keep that hope, that preyer that there will be dinner. There will be another set of feet under the table, a light too minimal conversation to be had and a head on the pillow next to hers at the end of the day.

But then there’s gravel crunching under tires, there’s one, two, three car doors being slammed and three pairs of out of sync footsteps growing closer to the front door. Three sets of footsteps isn’t good. She knows this. She knows as she crosses to the front door, pulls it open and meets the eyes of his best friend. Although she had known that at some point, this day might come, it makes the horror no less scary. It doesn’t make the gravel any less sharp on her knees as her breaths come quicker and Steve arms aren’t quick enough to react. To catch her before she falls.

She can see it reflected in the gaze of Nat that he’s not coming home, that something terrible, something unimaginable has happened.

Steve swallows around the lump in his throat that he prayed wouldn’t be there by the time he got out of the car.

“We’ll get him back Y\N. We’re going to bring him back”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x y/n #Bucky Barnes #the fastest way back home #gee writes things #i'm so sorry...#bucky

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ficsxreaderr · 4 years

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Snow in New York

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader. MCU, post-Endgame.

Summary: You met Bucky during your favorite time of the year, and it brought both of you the best years of your lives.

A/N: This is my entry for @marvelfulxbabes ‘s challenge! I entered the challenge with my og account @stateoflovinged. I really enjoyed writing this, I ALWAYS enjoy Christmas, so I hope this turned out well. Also, I thought this was going to be a two-part fic but I guess it’s nicer to read it all at once. Thanks to @livyourextralife for reading this before I posted it and being such a great friend!

Reblogging and feeback are welcome and appreciated!

Masterlist

The view from this bedroom is astounding, the sun setting behind the trees, the sky turning into a shade between orange and pink, the soft wind hitting your body covered with sweatpants and his t-shirt and hoodie. Your hair tied in a bun, your face make-up clean, your skin soft after a hot shower, and your feet warm inside your slippers. You take in the landscape and then walk inside to see your boyfriend walk out of the bathroom, with his skin still slightly wet and his body only covered by a towel that falls right below his waist. He dries his hair carelessly, and sits on the edge of the bed to put on some clothes. He groans lowly as he finishes pulling up his sweatpants, and you frown as you walk to the bed.

“What is it, Buck?” You sit, resting on the pillow and waiting for an answer.

“It’s nothing, doll, it’s just that my back’s killing me today and I can barely move.” Of course it is, the metal arm has many perks, the main one being him having his full capacities back, and as light as he claims it is, it’s sometimes tiring to carry around something that technically, doesn’t belong to his body.

“Oh,” You reply, kneeling on the bed right behind him, and caressing his shoulders and neck in the most delicate way. “Do you think I can help?” You murmur against his ear, earning a chuckle from him.

“You always can, baby.”

You keep caressing his shoulders, but then add some gentle squeezes on his tight muscles. His neck is very stiff, too, and you even find a couple of knots that you massage for a while until they are gone. Right below his shoulders, where his body meets the vibranium, his muscles are completely tense, and there are even more knots, it’s almost unbelievable that he can even move his arm.

“Babe, why didn’t you tell me before? You must be in so much pain.” You stop for a moment and caress his hair, making him sigh deeply.

“Well, it wasn’t that bad, it was bearable until today.” He shrugs, look back at you with a small, almost apologetic smile.

“You should tell me every time, okay?” You kiss his cheek and then he reaches up to press his lips against yours, humming as he understands.

“I will.” He nods. After some moments of working your way through those knots, they start loosening up and you feel his whole body relax, and you smile at that, kissing the base of his neck slowly, until you reach his jawline.

“Is this why you started massaging my back?” He chuckles, unable to move away.

“Of course not, this is just a perk.” You speak against his ear, feeling his muscles jolt below your hands. You keep massaging every single part of his back as you place soft kisses over it, occasionally going back to his neck and his cheeks, teasing him with gentle bites at his earlobe. A shiver runs down his spine and you instantly feel it against your skin, and you both chuckle.

“I’m just trying to make you feel better.”

“You are, sweetheart.” He slowly turns around, with much more relaxed features, and stares at you for a moment.

“What?” You reach up to caress his cheek with the back of your hand.

“I love you.” You heart still flutters every time he says that, just like the very first time, because that’s exactly the way he says it.

“Buck, I love you too.” Kissing him, he smiles against your lips, chuckling. You stop and stare at him, to watch his eyes much more rested, and his shoulders slightly dropped, compared to when he first sat on the bed. “Do you want to get some rest now?” You place a kiss to his jawline.

“Yeah, I haven’t been sleeping well, and I have a feeling I might tonight.” You nod and both of you make yourselves comfortable on the bed, he uses two pillows, because he doesn’t like to keep you up with his snoring, and he likes the side opposite to the window, because sunlight wakes him up too early. You lie there, staring at each other for a moment.

“You know, I still think it’s crazy that we met.” You mention.

“Yeah, I think so too, after all this time I didn’t think it was possible to…find happiness.”

Snow is probably one of your favorite things in life, and winter, especially Christmas, is your favorite time of the year. Your family always gets together for the holidays and it’s just the best feeling ever, you get to visit your parents, help out with decorations right after Thanksgiving, which you usually miss for one reason or another, and it definitely is you favorite time to take photographs, even if some of them don’t make it to the online magazines your work for. You stay at your parents’ for this month, because you barely see them through the year, they always find a way of convincing you to stay for so long, and you don’t fight it much because, well, they are your parents.

So going out for walks, ready to take a picture of anything slightly aesthetic that you find is kind of your tradition this month. The day is wonderful, it’s snowing but not enough to keep you inside, so you make your way through the streets of New York, open to find anything worth keeping in a picture. You get to Central Park and see it a bit crowded, so you try to find a spot that’s a bit empty, not to photograph people against their will. Finally, there’s a perfect spot, where you can stand in a good position and take the ideal shot of the park, a beautiful shot of Central Park covered in snow. You sigh deeply, taking it all in and smile, setting your camera. You lift it at eye level, ready to press the button, but someone walks by and stops to stare at his phone right in front of your camera. “Oh, man.” You whisper, not as lowly as you expected, and he turns around, a bit confused about what he just heard. You put your camera down and he takes a few steps closer.

“I’m sorry, did I step into your shot?” He speaks and you look up, even more confused than he is.

“Oh, hi, yeah, you kind of did, but it’s fine, don’t worry.” You chuckle, hopefully not that awkwardly, because you just realized how cute he is. Damn it, his eyes are some shade of blue you’ve never seen before.

“I’m really sorry, my phone rang and…sometimes I get confused even picking up.” He chuckles now, and you unconsciously frown at what he said. “But I’ll…I’ll let you take your picture now.” He nods as he takes a step backwards.

“Wait!” You speak almost impulsively. “I—I actually think you’d be a good addition to the frame…if you don’t mind…” Your voice is almost a wreck by the end of the sentence.

“Would I?” He asks, getting closer again.

“Well, yeah, I mean you’re tall and…stout.” You smile. “And you’ve got a nice profile, if you allow me to say.” He instantly blushes, looking down at his feet with his hands deep into his jacket pockets. He chuckles and shakes his head in disbelief. “But if you’re not comfortable, I understand.” You add, making him look up at you.

“No, no, it’s not that, I’m just…it’s been a while since I’ve received a compliment, even if it was a bit…subtle.”

“Oh, I see.” You nod.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what are those shots for?” He points at your camera, revealing his glove-covered hand.

“I’m, um, I’m a photographer for online magazines but this one is for a…Christmas collection that I put together every year…just for…fun.” You press your lips in a thin line, insecure of what he might think of you wanting to take a picture from a stranger.

“That sounds…fun, actually.” You both laugh as if your minds agreed to, and you finally see a broad smile, and how the corners of his eyes crinkle. He’s really attractive, who is he?

“It is.” You nod.

“Well, I’ll gladly appear in your picture if you think it’ll look good, I’m not exactly sure.”

“It will, trust me.” He smiles yet again.

“Okay, where should I stand?” You give him directions, you take him to the exact spot you want him and tell him to look to his right, so in the picture it will seem as if he’s looking at the ice-rink. He really could be a model, but you’re pretty sure that’s not where you’ve seen him.

“Alright, you’re perfect there, don’t move.” You instruct him and go back to your position so you can finally take the picture, or two, but you won’t say. “Done!” You exclaim and he walks towards you, with his hands in his pockets.

“Can I see it?”

“Of course you can.” You show him the picture and he smiles. “Do you like it?” You ask and both of you look at each other.

“I do, you’re…very talented, you made me look decent.” He shrugs, joking, making you chuckle.

“Come on, you’re…almost a natural.”

“Hey, do you think I can have at least a digital copy of that?” He asks a bit hesitant.

“Well, yes! I mean, it’s your picture after all, is a text alright?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Though you might need my number for that.” Smooth enough. You smile and bite you lower lip, making him smile back. You nod and almost immediately take your phone out of your pocket and hand it to him after it’s unlocked. He chuckles and takes it slowly, typing his number and then hands it back.

“I’ll send it as soon as I can, I still want to take some shots for today.”

“I’ll be waiting.” He nods.

“Hey, um…I didn’t get your name…” You frown. Bucky’s heart races at those words, he didn’t think of that until he decided to give you his number, and it just stresses him out, because he’s been laying low for a while, his life has changed so much since that thing with Steve happened, and it’s been in constant change since World War II, so it’s not common for him anymore to be giving out his name to people like everyone else does. A very little detail, a very simple sentence, two very easy words to say are just too much for the former Winter Soldier still.

“I’m…I’m…Bucky.” He blinks rapidly, as if he’s hesitating, and offers you his hand and you shake it.

“Bucky? I’ve…never heard that before…is it a…”

“Nickname, yeah.” He smiles. “I’m Bucky Barnes.” You freeze for a moment, now that name you’ve heard before, of course you’ve heard it and of course his face looked familiar to you. He figured he might as well give you his last name, before you found out on your own and got mad at him after you’ve just met.

“Oh!” You exclaim. “I…I knew you were familiar, you’re…you’re…” Bucky’s heart stops right there, when he thinks you’re going to remember he’s the deadliest assassin of the century, that he’s one of the most dangerous men on Earth, and Hydra’s pawn for everything they’ve done. But he’s suddenly relieved, and quite shocked when he hears you complete that sentence, “An Avenger, wow, I can’t believe I’m meeting an actual hero!” You smile widely. He’s speechless, literally he has no idea what to say, you see him as a hero, as someone who’s saved people, not the opposite.

“You know, I’ve read about you and Steve Rogers at the museum, and then read and heard a lot about each member of the Avengers…you guys brought half the universe back and saved it…” You shake your head, not quite believing your eyes.

“Well, you could say that…” He speaks a bit nervously, with a small grin. “I don’t like to be called a hero, though, it’s a big…name.”

“I bet it is.” You nod. “Well, I just have to say thank you.” He shrugs. “And maybe hope you’ll accept grabbing a cup of coffee with me.” He widens his eyes in surprise, unable to stop smiling, as his eyes glisten the more he hears you speak. “We don’t have to talk about the hero thing, of course, you just…seem like a nice guy.”

“I accept.” He nods and chuckles. “But…how about you tell me your name now?”

“Right!” You chuckle. “I’m Y/N, Y/N Y/LN since I already know your last name.”

You keep your camera inside its bag and Bucky joins you as you walk to find a coffee shop.

“Hey, so, do you live here in New York or are you just visiting?” He asks, with a much more confident tone in his voice.

“I live in Boston and come this whole month to spend it with my parents…and take some pictures.” You pause. “But I was born here and I wouldn’t trade it for the world, I had to go to Boston for work, you know, and figured it was easier to live there.”

“I bet it was.” He chuckles. “I love New York, despite…many things that have happened.”

“It just feels like home, right?” You look around with a small smile, not realizing he’s only looking at you. You look up at him and he’s not even tried looking away, he smiles at you for the millionth time today, and it feels warmer every time. “So can you tell me about yourself? I mean…I don’t want to ask something that I shouldn’t.”

“No, it’s okay.” He clears his throat. “I…grew up in Brooklyn, which I figure you already know. And, um, well, I’m a veteran, theoretically…and a senior citizen.” He jokes with the last words, looking at your eyes and making you laugh a lot.

“Wow, I do feel a lot of pressure now, I’ve got reasons to treat you right.” He laughs now, happy that you got his joke, and his heart flutters for the first time in a really long time. He forgot how it feels to talk to a girl and make her laugh, to walk around with someone that apparently doesn’t expect anything from him but a casual conversation, to look a girl right into her eyes and see that she’s enjoying herself around him.

“You better.” He speaks, letting that lovely Brooklyn accent out for a second, which for some reason, he didn’t have before. It’s so cute, to be honest.

“Come on, tell me more, I want to know.” You nudge him and he looks down at you with a new glow in his eyes, smirking.

“Alright, um…I…am living in the newly built compound with Sam, and other…colleagues, including Steve, though it’s weird now because…” He stops for a moment and swallows and clears his throat.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me, whatever it is, don’t feel pushed.”

“No, I…I actually feel like talking about it. I haven’t been able to but right now it…felt right.”

“Oh,” You’re quite startled by what he said as if he trusts you out of nowhere, or at least that’s what you think. “Okay, why is it weird now?” You spot a coffee shop right across the street and stop since the red light is on.

The conversation you and Bucky held that day will forever be your favorite, no matter how much time passes, how many hours you spend with him, how much your love grows and how many times you say you love each other, because that day it was settled that he was your soul mate, the love of your life.

For the past two years, you’ve kept your tradition of making photo collections during Christmas, except now, they include pictures of you and Bucky, and of course, with the rest of the team, and you have pictures of the compound covered in snow, of the whole team decorating inside, of you and Bucky ice-skating and constantly falling down; your life has been a dream since that day a stranger stepped into your shot, and you couldn’t feel luckier.

“Sam! Could you bring that box closer, please?” You speak up from the ladder you’re standing on, pointing at the box filled with the little star-shaped ornaments that are your personal favorites from the whole tree.

“Coming, sweetheart!” Sam teases as he picks up the box and holds it up for you.

“Careful, Sam, I’m never that far away.” Bucky speaks as he walks into the lounge back with a cup of coffee.

“Oh, I know that, especially in this weather you’re close to her.” Bucky shakes his head and chuckles.

“Babe, I brought you some coffee, come down here and take a break.” Bucky says to you and you slowly get down from the ladder.

“Thanks, Buck.” You take the cup and reach up to kiss his cheek. “But I don’t need a break, I love decorating.” You shrug as you sit on the couch, folding your legs so you can place the mug on your knee. “However if Sam finally finished putting the lights on the tree, that would be very helpful.” You joke. Bucky sits beside you, draping his arm around you so you can get closer, and he kisses your hair.

“Well, I finished my set of lights.” Rhodie says as he sits on the other couch. “Sam’s like a kid being told to order his room.”

“I got the longest set of lights! It’s not my fault.” He shrugs as he continues with his task, barely untangling them.

“Sam, all the sets are the same, stop whining and work.” You tease him and roll your eyes, making Bucky laugh. Out of everything you and Bucky have shared and every moment you spend together, making him laugh is probably your favorite thing, besides, obviously, sharing a bed with him.

“What about Bucky? He’s not set anything on the tree.” Sam rests his hands on his hips in a very dramatic tantrum.

“I’ve set all the lights outside with Clint, Sam, that’s much harder than hanging a plastic shiny star. And Clint just comes here to visit, you live here.” You laugh and look at him, kissing him.

“The coffee is great, babe, thanks.” You kiss him again.

“How come Bucky’s the only one with a girl? I mean, he doesn’t even go out that much.” Sam says as he finally starts putting on the lights.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bucky asks, faking offense. “I got plenty of girls back in the day, and I can still get them now.”

“Them?” You quirk up an eyebrow and stare at him. “How come?”

“Well, you’ve seen that, when we go out, a couple of girls are…staring.” He shrugs.

“They don’t just stare, you even talk to them sometimes!” You nudge him.

“Yeah! To tell them I have a girlfriend!” He exclaims back, pulling you closer to him.

“You better tell them or I’ll have you take down all the decorations, including the tree, at the end of the year.”

“It’s a deal.” He kisses your cheek.

It has been so great the way the team accepted you moving into the compound, there’s plenty of room for everyone, and they make you feel at home every day, and even more now that you’re in charge of making Christmas what it should be, the best time of the year. Everyone got presents for everyone else last year and they said they really enjoyed sharing as a family, which is what they are despite all the…loss.

Night has fallen and so has the temperature, it is very cold outside so you’ve had F.R.I.D.A.Y shut all the windows and turn on the heating. You’re in the mood of sharing a cup of hot chocolate with Bucky but he’s nowhere to be seen. The kitchen is an option so you walk in to find Sam way ahead of you.

“Well, look at you all Christmassy drinking hot chocolate.” You tease him, quirking up an eyebrow, making him look at you with a smirk.

“The weather demands it, this is purely a survival instinct.” Both of you chuckle.

“Hey, have you seen Buck?”

“You wanna get all warmed up with him, huh?” He says with a hint of amusement.

“Yeah, with hot chocolate.” You cross your arms.

“I think he’s outside.”

“Outside? But it’s freezing!”

“You do remember the guy’s always warm like a bird, right? He puts on a sweatshirt and he can survive snow.” You laugh at that, especially at the bird reference considering Sam’s suit.

“Alright, Birdman, I’ll go check on him.”

The sight of Bucky standing still staring at the lake with his hands in his pockets reminds you of something he told you a while ago, something that was really painful for him to watch and that he rarely opens up about. Oh, I know what this is about. With slow steps so he doesn’t hear you, you approach him, until you’re standing beside him.

“Hey.” You speak really low. After a second or two, he turns to see you and gives you a very small smile. “It’s cold out here.”

“It is.” He chuckles. “I was just…remembering.” He turns to see the lake again and you stare at him as his face gives him away.

“I thought so.” You say after a moment. “I don’t know what I would’ve done in his place, it’s hard to tell.”

“I wouldn’t have gone, you know.” He says louder, looking at you again. The answer is a shock to you, it is not what you expected him to say. You frown, mostly in compassion and let him continue. “We went to what we went through, it is what it is.” He shrugs. “It was…bad, but I…I was starting to live with it and past it.” He shakes his head. “We had each other again, Y/N.” You reach up and caress his cheek slowly, tracing your thumb along his stubble. “I thought at least that would last longer this time…”

“I know, Buck.” You say after you’ve swallowed to avoid the sob that threatened to bubble past your lips. “I know that’s what you wanted.” You nod slowly. He takes your hand gently, his warmth contrasting with your cold skin, and takes it to his lips to kiss your palm, earning a small smile from you. “I’m sorry about everything, but there’s so much you can remember about him to feel better, isn’t there?” He scoffs and smiles, looking down at his feet.

“I guess you’re right.” He looks up again. “It’s the first time I’ve said all that out loud…and I am so glad you were the one to hear it.” He cups your face and brings you closer to press his lips to your forehead for a moment. The wind doesn’t feel that cold anymore, and his heart doesn’t feel so lonely since the day he met you, and much less right in this moment. The birds chirping as they seek shelter in the trees remind you of Sam’s comment earlier, and you chuckle, looking away.

“What is it?” He asks, dropping his hands to your shoulders and stroking them to warm you.

“Um…Sam said today that you are always as warm as bird and that’s why you don’t mind being out in the cold.” He laughs, forcing his eyes to narrow and his crinkles deepen, giving you a view worth admiring.

“I won’t even deny that.” He shakes his head and pulls you closer to him, making you bury your face in his chest, and you press your lips to it, even if it’s covered by his sweatshirt and t shirt. He strokes your back and then kisses your hair, sighing deeply.

“Y/N…you make me want to be a better man. And I will be…with time.”

“Bucky, you are a good man, you are the man I need and the one I want in my life.”

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imagitory · 5 years

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D-Views: Muppet Treasure Island

Hi, everyone! Welcome to another installment of D-Views, my on-going written review series for films that fall under the Disney umbrella, as well as those that were influenced by those films! For more reviews for movies like Mary Poppins, Treasure Planet, and The Prince of Egypt, please consult my “Disney Reviews” tag and, of course, if you enjoy this review or any of the others, please consider liking and reblogging!

Today’s film is one of my childhood favorites, starring a cast of some of my favorite people, as well as frogs, pigs, and even whatevers. This is Muppet Treasure Island! (Thank you for your votes, @the-alexandrian-alchemist, @silvvergears, @extremelybears, @livinlifelikeishould and @karalora!)

Ever since 1976, the characters of the Muppet Show have been American pop culture icons. The show itself won a total of 21 Emmy nominations and four television awards over its long run, and by 1990 its cast had also starred in several critically acclaimed films (The Muppet Movie, The Great Muppet Caper, and The Muppets Take Manhattan) and the very popular animated TV show Muppet Babies. And all of that wouldn’t have been possible without the Muppets’ creator, Jim Henson.

Like at the Walt Disney Company, the loss of their leader in 1990 hit Jim Henson Productions very hard. One silver lining, however, is that just like with Walt Disney, Jim Henson was memorialized not just by the characters he created, but by his many achievements and the many friendships he’d made in life. He received a Star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame alongside Kermit the Frog; was inducted into the Television Hall of Fame; earned a memorial in his hometown Hyattsville, Maryland; was posthumously named a Disney Legend; was the focus of the heartfelt TV special The Muppets Celebrate Jim Henson; and was laid to rest with two formal funeral services complete with performances of some of his favorite songs. And just like the Walt Disney Company, even after the death of someone who meant so much to them, Jim Henson Productions got back up and promised to do more in the memory of their lost leader. Jim’s son Brian Henson took the reins and directed the Disney-co-produced Christmas movie The Muppet Christmas Carol in 1992, before he moved on to their next project and today’s subject, Muppet Treasure Island.

So, here’s the thing -- I have a LOT of nostalgia for this movie. I will be upfront about that. But even with that acknowledged, I was sort of stunned when I found out how lukewarm the reaction to this movie was, when it was released in theaters. Sure, I knew it hadn’t broken the bank, but even if it earned about $34 million worldwide, it received no honors or awards, only hit third at the box office opening weekend behind the movies Broken Arrow and Happy Gilmore, and even now only boasts an average 73% rating at Rotten Tomatoes. Critics at the time criticized how it was more “Treasure Island” than “Muppet”, with Roger Ebert calling it “less cleverly written” and Gene Siskel even more coldly deeming it “boring.” Although I’ll readily acknowledge that reading those reactions makes me want to run outside and scream “FUCK YOU, GENE SISKEL” at the top of my lungs, I promise to give a more rational review of this movie instead, one hopefully that acknowledges any possible shortcomings, but also will celebrate this film and how completely NOT boring it is.

One of the best things about this movie hits us in the face right off the bat -- the music, written by scoring giant Hans Zimmer and Nick Glennie-Smith. As much as I enjoy a lot of Muppet musicals, I attest that Muppet Treasure Island has the most cohesive score overall of any Muppet production. The Muppets were always creatures of the short, sweet vignette -- of the variety show -- of many disparate pieces sewn loosely together into a whole like a patchwork quilt. Even though The Muppet Christmas Carol’s soundtrack comes very close in its cohesion and I would say The Muppets (2011) -- my personal favorite Muppet movie -- is truer to the spirit of the Muppet Show in its music while also paying tribute to old-fashioned movie musicals, Muppet Treasure Island just paints a full-bodied picture from the off-set, building on refrains that return and morph over the course of the picture. From the very beginning, we get that this venture is NOT a standard Muppet movie. Like The Muppet Christmas Carol, the Muppets’ humor will only be part of the story told -- in TMCC, it takes a backseat to sincere emotions like love and redemption, while here in MTI, it takes a backseat to adventure and swashbuckling action.

The score also seamlessly flows into our first song, “Shiver My Timbers,” which just screams “pirate!” I’ve loved pirates ever since I was a little kid, and Muppet Treasure Island was one of the main reasons why. I was okay with Peter Pan, but Muppet Treasure Island was what really got me excited about pirates. They were rough, ruthless, and dangerous, but it was exciting to face off against them in an epic musical adventure, even if your only weapons were a couple of artfully thrown starfish. In the 90′s, pirate films weren’t really “in” -- it wouldn’t be until 2003 with the release of Pirates of the Caribbean that they became popular again -- but I think Muppet Treasure Island, through its music, really embraces the fun, action-packed thrills that Disney would later capitalize on in the Pirates films.

After our prologue, we meet Billy Bones (played by the perfectly cast Billy Connolly) and, of course, our hero, Jim Hawkins, played by newcomer Kevin Bishop. Kevin was the very first of a hundred kids who showed up for the audition to meet the casting agents, and he was selected for the part then and there. Sadly post-Muppets he moved on to stage and television, but for what it’s worth, I quite like Kevin in the role of Jim. He’s distinctly depicted as a boy, complete with a pre-puberty “boy soprano” singing voice (which I acknowledge is an acquired taste, but I personally enjoy), but that characterization only serves to accent how large of an arc he goes through over the course of the film. He starts off as smart, sincere, honest, and dreamy, but also very innocent and trusting, and over the course of the story, he learns to ground himself in who he is and what he believes in, to the point where he has to sever ties with someone he once considered a friend and mentor. Accompanying Jim in his journey are Gonzo and Rizzo, who largely serve as comic relief but do still serve as good friends and companions to Jim, as evident by the three characters’ “I Want” song, “Something Better.” Yes, Gonzo and Rizzo are sidekicks, but they’re still distinct personalities that bounce well off each other and “straight-man” Jim. Originally the filmmakers had considered simply having Gonzo and Rizzo being two characters called “Jim” and “Hawkins” respectively (splitting the part in two, not unlike what they did with Statler and Waldorf in The Muppet Christmas Carol), but due to concerns that the choice would result in a lack of heart in the finished product, that idea was scrapped. I think it ultimately was the better decision to leave the drama to the humans -- it’s not that the Muppets can’t conjure sincere emotion (just look at “Pictures in my Head” or “Man or Muppet”), but I still think having any of the existing Muppets fulfill the “coming of age” narrative the original Jim Hawkins goes through would’ve been a bit of a stretch. Even in The Muppet Christmas Carol or non-Muppet-show Jim Henson production Labyrinth, the main characters with a story arc are played by human actors who are able to ground the picture despite the cast of colorful, irreverent characters.

One of the main criticisms that critics of the time lobbed at this movie is that it feels more “Treasure Island” than “Muppet”, and in a way it’s a decent point, if not phrased very badly. Unlike in other Muppet projects, the humor plays second fiddle to the plot and the characters are not the characters we know from the Muppet Show with their Muppet Show backstories and consciousness. In The Muppet Christmas Carol, the film could very easily be seen as a “production” being put on by the Muppets, even if it’s never overtly stated as such, thanks to Gonzo (as Charles Dickens) constantly breaking the fourth wall. In Muppet Treasure Island, however, Gonzo and Rizzo have their own non-Muppet-show history as friends of Jim Hawkins way before ever meeting the other Muppets like Kermit and Sam the Eagle, and Kermit and Miss Piggy have a whole soap-opera romance that involves a wedding and getting marooned by pirates (we’ll get to that later). So yes, this is more “Treasure Island,” but it’s not less “Muppet” -- it’s less “Muppet Show.” These Muppets have different histories, but they’re the same characters despite this. Gonzo is an eccentric thrill-seeker -- Rizzo is a cowardly cynic -- Kermit is a soft-spoken pacifist -- Fozzie is a lovable dimwit -- Piggy is a self-centered diva. Think of Muppet Treasure Island as a Muppet AU fanfiction -- these may not be exactly the characters you know, and yet...they are! They’re the exact same big personalities with the same quirks, strengths, and weaknesses, just in an alternate universe. And honestly, I think it’s really cool, to see these sorts of characters so exclusively used for comedy in a world that’s not flat-out comedic -- one that’s kind of dirty and rough around the edges, with swashbuckling action and real danger around every corner.

The nice thing is that although yes, the comedy isn’t the central focus anymore, there is still really good humor in this film, a lot of it thanks to the shift in tone. There’s just something so very, very funny to me about Billy Bones’s death scene being followed up by Rizzo, Gonzo, and Jim just flat-out freaking out and dashing out of the room screaming like stupid kids, or the tense action scene where the pirates storm into the inn being punctuated by Rizzo trying to help Gonzo load the gun, only to spill the bag of bullets, or the epic entrance of the illustrious Captain Smollett’s carriage ending with the tall, solemn coachman stepping aside to reveal the Captain himself, played by Kermit the Frog. I think it plays into the ideas of subverting expectations and building up a punchline properly before delivering the joke -- as each scene is built up, we’re left constantly unsure if the film’s going to play things straight or just be completely irreverent, and the contrast is what can make a joke much funnier than in a purely, solely humorous scenario. There are a few points where the contrast can become a bit labored, but I laugh so much more during this movie that I ever have watching my favorite reruns of the Muppet Show, no matter how much I enjoy them. It’s something that, again, the Pirates of the Caribbean films would capitalize on much later. (Too bad they couldn’t incorporate that humor into any catchy musical numbers! Disney, where’s my Pirates of the Caribbean musical?)

Aha, and now we come to the brightest of the shining stars in this film -- our villain, Long John Silver, played by the amazing Tim Curry. I’m sorry, it’s an incontrovertible truth that Curry is a unique, magical ingredient that, when added to any movie, just elevates the cinematic dish to a whole new level and leaves you drooling for one more scene with him. I remember someone once saying that Curry is sort of like a Muppet in human skin thanks to his outrageous, yet likable acting, and...yeah, it makes it so that he fits perfectly in this movie, where he has to interact so closely with the Muppets. The nice thing is, though, that he also has a lot of chemistry with his human co-star Kevin Bishop, to the extent that you sincerely feel for the relationship that forms between Jim and Silver even if you know Silver’s intentions from the start. I particularly like their exchange in the ridiculously catchy “Sailing for Adventure,” as well as their scene at the front of the ship where they discuss their fathers and the stars.

Just as the adventure is getting going, however, it stops dead with the wind’s abandonment of the Hispaniola. Out of nowhere, the ship breaks out into the most ridiculous, most “Muppet” of all of the musical numbers, “Cabin Fever.” The song was one of my favorite parts when I was little and it’s always made me laugh, but it’s definitely the biggest detour of the movie that up until that point lived in its own pirate-centric world. It’s a very short-lived detour and as I said, it’s ridiculously funny, but it doesn’t have any bearing on the plot and I could see how people might find it kind of pointless, particularly since it doesn’t even feature three of our main characters, Jim, Silver, or Smollett. One other critique I will give the film is that some of the effects nowadays don’t look very real, like the Hispaniola being composited over still matte paintings -- there are points where the production values remind me a bit of the old Wishbone TV series, where they have to angle the shot just so or get creative just to try to make the ship look as big as it should be. But honestly, there were points where Wishbone impressed me with those same sorts of layering and green-screen effects despite its limited budget, and those cheaper effects don’t look tacky or out-of-place, so I personally don’t mind them that much.

Because this is a Muppet movie, it’s unsurprising that our Mr. Arrow (played by Sam the Eagle) isn’t really killed, instead just being tricked off of the ship by a manipulative Silver, but it says something that, even with that softened plot turn, the stakes are not completely dismantled. We still see the pirates as a legitimate threat when they kidnap Jim and take over the Hispaniola, even when they burst into song. Tim Curry’s “only number,” “A Professional Pirate,” is a perfect expression of his expert, charming showmanship, which in my mind truly can’t be matched by any other performer in Hollywood, past or present. No one gives a performance like Tim Curry. It makes it so that even when I was a bratty kid getting irritated about Silver calling privateer Sir Francis Drake a pirate and using “buccaneer” as a synonym for “pirate,” I would sing this song at the top of my lungs, trying to even reach 75% of the energy Curry put into his vocals.

At long last, Miss Piggy makes her grand debut as “Queen Boom Sha-Kal-a-Kal,” a.k.a. Benjamina Gunn. Although the diva doesn’t end up getting much screentime, she certainly gets a grand entrance, complete with an elephant steed decorated with flowers and a full musical number complete with a tribal chant and ethereal vocalizing. And true to form, when she lays eyes on her one true love, Kermit...she smacks him so hard that he’s thrown backwards off his feet and into a gong. What’s particularly interesting about Piggy in this movie is that although she and Fozzie are voiced by Frank Oz as always, both she and Fozzie were actually puppeted by Kevin Clash, as Oz was unavailable during this film’s production, and Oz’s vocals for both characters were added in post-production. Despite the difference in puppeteer, however, both characters are just as likable as ever -- I’d honestly had no clue that they weren’t performed by the same person! The film even got to use the full-bodied remote-controlled puppets for Kermit and Piggy for the love duet “Love Led Us Here,” which is kicked off by an Evita joke I never got as a kid but as an adult makes me grin like a friggin’ idiot. Fortunately the duet is inter-cut with Silver and the pirates finding the treasure, rather than it being chock-full of romantic flashbacks or prolonged looks between the two lovebirds, giving it a lighter tone than it would’ve had otherwise.

With a much reduced crew comprised only of Rizzo, Gonzo, Squire Trelawney, Dr. Honeydew, Beaker, and the newly returned Mr. Arrow, Jim comes to Benjamina and Smollett’s rescue and returns to Treasure Island to face Silver and the pirates. The action scene is full of humor, but because of the world established in the rest of the film, I would argue it still has stakes. The blows still hurt and there’s still a threat of defeat and danger, most notably when Long John Silver prepares to fight. Even if you don’t think the Muppets are going to die persay, you still feel the suspense in wanting to see what’s going to happen next. And when Silver surrenders, he himself can see the real treasure Jim found on his adventure -- a family...a group of people Muppets who will support him and encourage the very best in him.

Silver’s escape scene is a beautifully heart-wrenching scene -- one that could only have been earned by two excellent performances over the course of the film by Kevin Bishop and Tim Curry. Even though both Silver and Jim know that they’re different people and they could never walk the same path, it doesn’t mean that they don’t still greatly esteem and care about each other. In Jim’s case, it’s especially difficult, given that in parting ways with Silver, he has to cut loose of a very poor potential father figure who would’ve only dragged him down in the long run, but who was so likable in his own damaged way. It proves to be a very bittersweet scene sprinkled into a very happy, cheerful ending, complete with the chipper island-inspired end credits bop “Love Power.”

Muppet Treasure Island is -- in my opinion, at least -- one of the best Muppet movies ever made. It broke away from quite a few Muppet conventions, like the characters breaking the fourth wall and being aware of themselves being in a movie or TV show, and embraced a much less humorous tone in both its writing and cinematography. Yes, it reimagined a classic book like The Muppet Christmas Carol did, but this movie took the next step, embracing the world of the original novel as well as the set-up and immersing the Muppets’ cast of characters in it. Although I can see why some people would be more partial to the original Muppet movie formula and love it a lot myself, I really, really respect Brian Henson and the rest of this film’s crew for taking the Muppets in such a different direction. It was an entertaining, action-packed, funny pirate movie before those sorts of movies became popular again, and it remains my favorite “pirate” movie of all time, as well as my personal favorite incarnation of the Treasure Island story (barely beating out Treasure Planet). I know childhood nostalgia can play a role in what media can give you joy as an adult, but I truly don’t think it’s the only factor here -- it’s also just a really good movie, and I can only hope that more people will consider giving it a chance and have just as much fun Sailing for Adventure as I did!

#d-views #disney reviews #muppet treasure island #the muppets #reviews #opinion #analysis #oh boy here i go #brian henson #tim curry #kevin bishop #billy connolly

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cosmic-affinities · 4 years

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Pinky Finger

This is just a separate post of something I just reblogged! (Its my own content I just posted it underneath the original inspiration) (Credit for the prompt goes to @dekatsu )

So this came out to be A LOT longer than i intended soooo, here you go i guess?

AO3 link here

It’s the pinky finger. Of course, it is. It seems like every shitty thing originates from that small appendage. It’s ridiculous really.

Katsuki could really do without this shit.

It all started when Midoriya broke all his fingers except his right pinky, from there the damned thing was out to end Katsuki Bakugo’s life. It was the little things, leading with his pinky instead of his pointer finger like a normal fucking person, tapping his desk so quietly that Katsuki was the only one able to hear it, and the last, most devastating, approaching obscene, way he sucked on the tip of his pinky when he was too concentrated to realize what he was doing. That was the metaphorical nail in the coffin, and if Katsuki were to witness that while fighting, it would be literal.

Katsuki was fucked, and he knew it. It was bad enough having a crush on your childhood friend that you bullied then eventually and painfully formed a tentative friendship with but, it was even worse being utterly obsessed with his damned pinky. It couldn’t have been something normal like his ass (which was spectacular) or his legs (which could crush him any day of the week) or even his hair (softer than what should be considered legal) no, it had to be his fucking finger. To top off the shittiest cake known to man, his best friend (a thought he would never admit to having) figured it out.

Katsuki was very careful to be discrete, all to avoid the very conversation he was pointedly not taking apart in. Kirishima managed to corner him outside his dorm room.

“Bakubro, what's with you and Mido? I know you guys are friends now, but you barely look him in the eyes, and you constantly look super focused whenever he is talking to you.” A wordless grunt is all Kirishima got in response, typical.

“Alright, I guess I’ll just have to take guesses and see which one sticks. Ok here goes, are you trying to think of a way to destroy him without actually killing him?”

Silence.

“Ok, trying to read his mind?”

A bored look.

“How about trying to make him stop talking with only your mind?”

A look that read ‘you are a dumbass’

Kirishima smiled before he spoke again, almost knowingly. “Oh, I know, you are trying to figure out a way to ask him out.”

No eye contact, a poorly concealed flush on his cheeks. Bingo.

“Finally something I can work with. So what’s the plan, I say we call it Operation: Izukatsu what do you think?”

“I think you’re a dumbass who doesn’t know what he’s talking about, and also doesn’t know how to properly name something.” Finally, Katsuki broke his silence.

“Alright smart guy what do you think we should call it?” Kirishima expertly avoided leaving room for denial.

“First of all, there is no ‘it’ so congrats you jumped to a dumb fucking conclusion and second you are a dumb fuck.” Of course, Katsuki found room for denial.

“Ok, ouch did you need an entire point to call me dumb? Don’t answer that! And yes there is an ‘it’ I can tell because you wouldn’t have said anything in the first place if there wasn’t. Admit it, bro, I’m smarter than I look!”

Katsuki flushed again, it remained a flush because he vehemently swears he does not have the ability to blush.

“See! That right there is the ‘it’ I’m talking about. Bro, you know I won’t say anything right? It would be pretty messed up if I did since I'm kinda the same way with Denki.” That was the perfectly placed vulnerability, the perfect way to get someone like Katsuki to cave in.

“No, you and Pikachu are fucking gross, basically sucking each other's dicks in front of everyone and still not getting together.” Maybe Kirishima’s plan wasn’t flawless, it just needed some adjustment.

“Well if I make a move on Denki will you make a move on Mido? That’s a double win for you, a boyfriend and you won’t have to see whatever it is Denki and I do.” Well adjusted, vulnerability and a wager.

“I’m only going to say this once and only to you because I know you won’t go blab your fucking mouth to the first person you see. Fine, if you figure your shit out with Pikachu I’ll figure out mine. But you have to convince Deku it was a joke when he laughs in my face.” Katsuki wouldn’t meet the redhead’s eyes.

“Bro, you know Mido isn’t like that and I doubt he is going to laugh at you. Plus I’m pretty sure he feels the same way.”

“And why the fuck do you think you know how I feel.” It wasn’t a question, but Kirishima was going to give him an answer anyway, he needed to hear it.

“Do you not see the way he looks at you? Or talks about you? Or how excited he gets when you talk to him? Or how he basically jumped around when you agreed to spar with him? Or-”

“OK! I get it, whatever. He’s like that with everyone.”

“Bro if he was like that with me, you would have blown me up a long time ago.”

“Ok, fine whatever, if this blows up it’s on you.”

“I will take that risk for you bro.”

Katsuki finally relaxed a bit, assuming the conversation was finished.

“So, what should we call it if Izukatsu isn’t ok?” Kirishima had the confidence to smirk, thinking he could fluster his best friend.

“...bakudeku.” Katsuki said, barely loud enough for Kirishima to hear him.

“BRO I DIDN’T KNOW YOU ACTUALLY HAD ONE!”

“Shut up! TELL ANYONE AND DIE!!!”

“Oh, come on you know I won’t say anything, not even to the squad.”

“Whatever this has been way too much talking about this bull shit, come find me after you grow a pair and ask out the phone charger.” With that Katsuki walked away, nearly slamming into Deku, but the nerd’s reflexes had quickened since coming to UA so he was able to step aside and grab onto Katsuki before they ran into each other.

“Woah Kacchan, where’s the fire? What’s got you walking so quickly?”As he spoke Katsuki could feel the hand on his bicep twitch, that was the only warning he got before he felt the tapping. So light that many would not have noticed, and if it was anyone else Katsuki wouldn’t have, but the hyper-focus he gained around Deku was amplified as his right pinky lightly tapped him rhythmically.

“Oh just shitty hair being stupid, I don’t want to lose IQ points.” Deku laughed, Katsuki wanted him to do it again.

“Kacchan I know he’s your best friend, no need to pretend.” More giggles followed.

“Well, whatever, either way, that's what I was walking away from. What about you, aren't you usually with Round Face for breakfast on Sundays?” He hoped that didn’t come off creepy, he just happened to know where Deku usually was on Sundays.

“Oh yeah usually, but she needed some time to talk to Tsu so I told her to take her to breakfast! Hopefully, now she won’t get so distracted every time Tsu walks by.” A smile lit up Deku's face as he quietly laughed, nearly blinding to Katsuki.

“Finally, maybe now I’ll be able to go to class without being caught between someone staring at their damn crush, it's gross walking between Shitty Hair and Pikachu can’t even imagine your two.” Katsuki faked a small gag which earned him a pretty laugh, maybe he could record it.

“Lucky you, I still have to deal with Todoroki, I make sure to avoid Class B when I’m with him if he sees Shinsou there is no getting him back.”

“Does this class need a fucking matchmaker? Is that what it'll take? Even Racoon Eyes can’t get enough of Earphones I swear can’t go anywhere without someone acting dumb around their crush.” Katsuki silently hoped this would be the end of this particular topic, talking about crushes while Deku tapped his bicep was hitting way too close to home.

As if he could read Katsuki’s thoughts, Deku removed his hand, the contact was immediately missed.

“Maybe a matchmaker wouldn’t be so bad, I don’t know how much more I can take!” Deku laughed again, he was definitely out to get Katsuki today.

“Oh and what about you? Does Round Face expect you to use your Sunday the same way she is?” Katsuki heavily faked nonchalance, he knew Kirishima wouldn’t take long to hold up his end of the bargain and he at least wanted to prepare for rejection.

Nervous laughter met his ears and when he looked at Deku he saw a red face, only managing to make his freckles stand out even more, damn any higher power, that was fucking cute.

“Oh um I don’t think she expects anything from me!” Deku’s pinky started to twitch, capturing Katuki’s attention momentarily.

“Good, since you’re free and I have Mario Kart for my switch, wanna play?” Did he fucking say good? Shit, hopefully, Deku didn’t notice.

“Oh, sure! I just need to eat something first if I don’t, I won’t make it through one round.” If he did notice he didn’t mention it.

“I was about to make some rice and I guess I could make enough for you cause I’m guessing you can’t cook for shit, even if it's just rice.”

“I’m going to choose to ignore the insult and just say thanks, so thanks Kacchan!” Another blinding smile, fuck.

“You ignoring it means it probably true, come on I’m starving.” Katsuki didn’t wait for a response, electing to walk forward and hope the damn nerd followed him.

He did.

They made their way into the kitchen area and Deku just pushed himself up onto the counter and watched as Katsuki expertly moved his way around the kitchen, it didn’t take long, he was only making rice after all.

Just as he finished he commented, “You know, you could’ve helped me instead of just staring at me.”

Although he was red, Deku managed to respond, “I thought you said I can’t cook, what happened to that huh?”

“Well, either way, you didn’t have to stare.” Katsuki tacked on a light laugh at the end, he hoped Deku knew he was joking.

“Wh-what! I wasn’t-”

“Nerd! I’m messing with you, now come on and eat already, I didn’t cook for you not to eat.”

They both ate fairly quickly, neither was kidding when they said they were hungry. Once they finished they got up and made their way back towards Katsuki’s dorm.

“Let me stop in my room to grab a blanket really quickly so I can beat you in Mario Kart without getting cold.”

“Yeah right you’re gonna beat me, no one has been able to beat me yet. Come on, let's go.”

The two make it to Midoriya’s room and Katsuki is told to wait by the door while Midoriya grabs a few things. He takes the time to watch the nerd navigate perfectly around his mess of a room, collecting snacks, and a big blanket. His eyes wander around the rest of the room, flicking between All Might decorations and figurines, and school work. As he glanced towards the windowsill above the bed, he noticed something stark compared to all of the All Might things.

“Hey Nerd, what's that on your window? It doesn’t look like any All Might stuff I’ve seen.” Katsuki’s interest piqued when Deku turned red and tried to stutter out a response. He was finally able to compose himself.

“Oh, that’s just an old hero figuring I found, nothing crazy.” Katsuki didn’t buy it.

“Well let me see, what hero is it? I know just as many of them as you do.” Deku quickly moved to grab the figurine but a firm hand on his wrist stopped him.

“Like I said, it’s just something I found, you wouldn’t be interested in it! Trust me!”

“Then let me see it, now I’m curious.” Deku tried to wiggle out of the firm grasp, without activating his quirk Katsuki had him beat in raw strength so he was out of luck.

“N-no! Trust me you won’t like it!”

“And how do you know that?”

“Uh, just a hunch?”

“Are you asking or telling? You know what, whatever I’m just going to grab it.”

“NO WAIT!” Deku tried to get him to stop but Katsuki was already leaning over the bed to grab it, all while keeping his eyes on Deku, making sure he didn’t try to stop him.

“What could be so bad-” Katsuki finally looked down at the black and orange figurine in his hand, it was him in his hero costume. His cheeks tinged with red, he had to come up with something to say and fast.

“Tch they got my hair wrong, it’s pointier than that.” He continued to inspect the figure, trying to act unaware of Deku’s blush and slight sputtering.

“Uh, I um found that in a hero kiosk is the mall just after the sports festival, apparently a lot of people wanted figures of the winners. The ones of Todoroki and Tokoyami didn’t look right, but yours was pretty close, I guess I got excited seeing you three as figures.” It was a wonder the nerd didn’t pass out from a lack of oxygen, he tried to explain himself all in one breath.

“Who would want losers on their shelves anyway, at least I earned a spot, HA I wonder how many people actually have these.” The lack of insults seemed to calm Deku down a bit.

“I actually asked! He said he had sold at least 50 of just yours that day alone! For someone who isn’t even a Pro yet, I thought that was pretty impressive!”

“Heh, probably more than the other two, anyways why don’t all of the extras know about this? I know for a fact a handful of them have been in here and none of them would have let me hear the fucking end of it.”

“Oh um well usually I put it away when people come over, but today was a surprise so…” His pinky started to tap against his arm slowly, he was embarrassed.

“Eh, they would all be too jealous to function anyways. So are you ready? Mario Kart isn’t going to play itself.” Hopefully, the change in subject would calm him down.

“Yeah! We can go now.” The tapping stopped as Katsuki replaced the figure.

“Alright then hurry the fuck up, we’re wasting time.”

The two made their way to Katsuki’s room, but as they got closer Deku’s pinky started tapping his thigh.

“You nervous I’m going to beat you so badly you won’t get to finish the race?” Katsuki hoped to try and ease the anxiety he could see in the other.

“What? I’m not nervous! I’m definitely going to beat you!” His pinky gave him away, it tapped faster as they approached the door.

‘Do I tell him I can tell he’s nervous? Would that be embarrassing? Should I just let it go? Why was he so nervous anyway?’ Katsuki’s mind was running on overdrive until he finally settled on something to say.

“Tch, as if. No way you could beat me.”

“Well we’ll just see won’t we?” Although Deku looked smug and challenging his pinky still twitched.

As the pair entered the room Deku took a look around noticing how clean it was, although he didn’t expect much less. Katsuki made quick work of setting up the game and directed Deku to the bed.

“You can put the snacks on the desk and sit on the bed, unless you want to sit on the floor?”

“I think gaming usually happens on the floor leaning against the bed, we don’t want you to singe your bed when you lose, do we?” He displayed the confidence so well that Katsuki was wondering if the pinky tapping didn’t mean what he thought. He immediately scrapped that line of thought, there was no way he was wrong.

“I think we have to worry about you rage quitting.” A quick eyebrow raise solidified the challenge, both were determined to win.

Katsuki sat down next to Deku on the floor leaning on the bed and handed him a controller, as they went to the player select screen Deku threw the blanket around his head and over his shoulders. The fabric bunched all around him and Katsuki couldn’t help but wonder why he brought such a big blanket.

“Let’s see what shitty set up you use Deku, cause I know it won’t be as good as mine.” They both completed the character select in relative silence, one they were done both had… comments.

“Never pegged you for a Baby Mario kinda doesn’t fit you.” Deku chuckled out.

“HEY! He is fast and he is a mini badass when you jump! And you don’t see me making fun of you for using Yoshi! Especially the green one, how predictable!”

“Mhmm sure Kacchan, just tell me one thing? Why did you start using him in the first place?”

“Oh wipe the smug look off your face, it started as a bet. I told Shitty Hair I could beat him with anyone and any setup and he said prove it, so we spent an entire night going through me using all the characters and it was just the funniest fucking thing to see Dry Bowser get beaten so badly by Baby Mario! Now whenever someone loses to me it's just that much better that they lost to a literal baby!”

“Why am I not surprised? And Green Yoshi has always been good to me!”

“Look, just wait until you see badass little Baby Mario on the first place pedestal, you will see what I’m talking about.”

The two played the four rounds of the Star Cup, and as they finished the heated round on Mount Wario they saw they had tied for points. The lead up to the awards screen played out and both of their characters were featured.

“Haah?! I won on a technicality!? No fucking way, I need to completely beat you, none of this tie bullshit!”

“Well Kacchan, it is something to see the person in second place still be taller than the one in first even though the platforms are uneven.”

“Are you not going to acknowledge our tie?!”

“I was getting to it, looks like since you won the last race in the cup, the game gives you first place. That's interesting. I never knew that. I wonder what happens if you tie with a CPU? Or if you tie on a worldwide game?”

“Deku! Mumbling!”

“Right sorry. Wanna rematch?” The excited look in his eyes took Katsuki by surprise, he could only navigate the way into setting up the next match.

“I think we should do the Lightning Cup first because the Special Cup has the harder version of rainbow road, in comparison the rainbow road on the N64 is pretty easy.”

“Yeah sure whatever Deku, just stop leaning into the hard turns, this isn’t the Wii, everything is on the controller.” The only reason there was a need to mention this was because Deku was leaning dangerously close to Katsuki, and he wasn’t sure he could hold it together.

“Oh! Sure Kacchan, I didn’t even realize I was doing it!” The pretty blush was back on his cheeks as he let out a small laugh, Katsuki definitely couldn’t hold it together.

“I’m only telling you cause by the time we get to rainbow road you’ll practically be in my lap!”

This was not the right thing to say. The thought alone made the two of them horribly red, and Deku started to tap his pinky again.

“Let’s start the fucking race, I have a point to prove.’

This cup went similar to the first but Deku managed to take first place in the last race, Rainbow Road N64, meaning Yoshi was at the top of the platform.

“Not this fucking tie again! Damn it Deku! When did you become good at video games?” Katsuki cautioned a look at his bundled up nerd, also a mistake. The pride in his eyes as he looked at Katsuki made his breath hitch ever so slightly.

“I’ve always been good, you were just too scared to admit it!”

“Tch whatever, we still have one more cup that’s worth our time.” Katsuki forced himself to look away, despite the warning before the previous round, Deku ended up even closer to him and he wouldn’t be able to hold it together much longer.

“Maybe this next one we won’t actually tie.”

“I don’t plan on it nerd.” Katsuki contemplated for a second before continuing, “Share your damn blanket its fucking cold in here and all my shit’s folded.” He had been thinking about asking since he saw how big the blanket was but better late than never.

“Oh, sure!” Deku unwrapped himself and draped the big blanket over their laps, now connected by their thighs, and tucked it around them. Successfully keeping them together in a blanket cage.

Katsuki focused very hard to keep himself from wrapping around Deku, trying to focus on the game in front of him, as he started up the final cup.

The last was shockingly similar to the first two, although Katsuki was very close to becoming the fair winner until Deku started to tap his controller leaving Katsuki momentarily distracted leading to the final tie.

“Another fucking tie, that's it it’s gotta be rigged!”

“Kacchan I just think we’re too good and the game doesn’t know how to handle it.” Deku giggled which effectively cut Katsuki’s train of thought short.

“Tch whatever you’re probably right. It just can’t handle us.” Katsuki allowed himself to laugh too, eventually, the pair leaned against each other and the bed calming down after a bout of laughing and small jokes continuing to make everything seem much funnier than it was until the two were breathless. Once the two finally settled, Katsuki realized he didn’t want Deku to leave, even though he only extended an offer of Mario Kart.

“Wanna watch a movie? You brought a bunch of shit and we haven’t even touched it.”

“Yeah, sure! What’d you wanna watch?” Pointedly neither moved from their position.

“I have a bunch of All Might’s old movies downloaded on my laptop, we could watch those?” Before he spoke he could feel Deku’s excitement.

“Yes! That sounds like fun! Maybe we could sit somewhere else though, the floor is only comfortable for so long.”

“Yeah, we can just sit on my bed and use a pillow to prop up the laptop.” At this Katsuki reluctantly moved, grabbing his laptop and the snacks off of his desk moving them to his night table. Deku grabbed the pillow and settled in near the wall, making room for Katsuki to sit next to him, they were basically pressed up against each other from shoulder to ankle due to the size of the bed.

“Man, I haven’t seen one of these in a while, I guess it’s different when you have the real one as your teacher huh.”

“Damn right it is, I remember watching one of these at your house when we were barely old enough to understand what was going on. Auntie Inko was so confused when all we kept screaming was ‘I am Here’ as we ran around.” Katsuki began to laugh at the memory, it seemed like so long ago.

“Oh my gosh, I remember that! Didn’t we use Auntie Mitsuki’s towels as capes?” Deku soon joined the laughter.

“Yeah, the hag was trying to scold us but Auntie Inko pointed at the TV and they just kinda let us be, I guess they knew we wouldn’t stop for a while.”

“Man if I would’ve been told that All Might was going to be my teacher I would’ve freaked out, I kinda did when I found out honestly.”

“If you tell anyone this you’ll be dead before you can finish your sentence, but I did too. I scared the neighbor’s cat with my quirk on accident.” At this Deku threw his head back and laughed so infectiously that soon the pair was in a similar state to the one they had been in on the floor just before deciding to watch a movie. Breathless and happy the pair leaned back and watched the action sequence in front of them play out.

With the occasional comment the movie went by quickly and neither made a move to stop the next one from playing.

By the time Katsuki knew what was happening the second movie was almost over. He blearily lifted his head and tried to sit up, realizing he couldn’t move because of a weight on his chest. He looked down and took in the sight in front of him. Here he was basically cuddling with Deku, right arm over the greenette’s back resting on his hip. He saw that Deku had him trapped in a hug with an arm on either side of him and a head relaxed on his chest.

Deciding against his better judgment, Katsuki decided to lay his head back down, wrap his other arm around Deku, and go back to sleep.

This time he was woken by a voice.

“Kacchan. Kacchan?” Along with the voice, Katsuki could hear the end credits of the third movie playing in the background.

“Mmm shhh, I’m sleeping.”

“Kacchan! I can’t get up.”

“That sounds like a you problem, Deku.”

“Kacchan would you open your eyes!”

“No, I’m still asleep.”

At this, the pair heard the door swing open and a voice before they could react.

“Hey, Bakubro! You missed lu- oh hey Mido sorry I didn’t realize you two were in here, I’ll just go.”

Both boys on the bed scrambled to get up and respond, Deku was the first to compose himself.

“Oh don’t w-worry Kirishima! I just fell asleep during a movie.” He didn’t say anymore, clearly red with embarrassment.

“What is it that you need Shitty Hair?” Katsuki shot Kirishima, a warning glare that was dulled by the flush on his cheeks.

“Oh, well I was just coming to ask why you missed lunch and tell you some uh, news you could say.” The eyebrow raise made it perfectly clear as to what news he had for Katsuki.

“No- not already? Are you fucking serious! Not even a full day?!”

“I am serious thank you very much, we are going to get ramen tomorrow after classes get out!” The excitement was clear in his voice. “Now it’s your turn!”

“What do you mean Kirishima? It’s Kacchan’s turn for what?” The curiosity overpowered any lingering embarrassment.

“Well, basically Bakubro and I made a deal. He said that, and I quote ‘if you figure your shit out with Pikachu I’ll figure out mine’ so, now he has to make his own move.” Kirishima turned to face Katsuki and raised an expectant eyebrow before either could say anything they heard a small voice.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you had a crush on someone Kacchan.” And then slightly louder and more positive “Anyways, I’ll let you guys talk. I should go, Uraraka will want to talk to me, bye guys!” Deku stood up and walked to the door without grabbing anything.

“Deku wait!” It was too late, he was already out the door.

“REALLY?! Did you have to say all that shit to him?! Fuck! And he left his fucking blanket!” Katsuki now stood and paced around in front of Kirishima.

“Sorry! I thought you had already made your move! You guys were all cuddled up so I just assumed!”

“Fuck! No! We seriously just fell asleep! Damn it! What am I going to do, he thinks I like someone else?!”

“Bro, did you hear how he sounded when he said he didn’t know you had a crush on someone? “

“Yeah, he sounded surprised, what the hell does that have to do with anything?!”

“DUDE! He didn’t sound surprised! He sounded heartbroken! Or maybe just really sad, I guess heartbroken is a strong word.”

“What the fuck? No, he didn’t, did he?” Katsuki sounded almost hopeful, which maybe wasn’t fully appropriate for the situation.

“Ok dude, first of all, don't sound so happy about him being sad, second of all YES he did, would you just go and get him?!”

“NO! What the hell man! Things between us are complicated! I can’t just go up to him, it would make things weird! I have to have some kind of plan that I can get out of because I’m still not convinced that you know what you are talking about.”

“Bakugou! If you don't, believe me, why don’t you go ask Todoroki or Uraraka?! I don’t want to deal with any more of this! Dude, he likes you, you like him, go for it!”

“Look, it’s not that simple-”

“Yes, it is! What could possibly be holding you of all people back? You should-”

“I TOLD HIM TO KILL HIMSELF! OK, look in middle school I gave him a lot of shit and I crossed a line that I can’t go back from and so now there is no way he could ever see me like that, I am lucky enough that he can even look at me!”

“Oh.”

“Yeah oh. That's why I don’t want to just go up to him, I can’t.”

“Want to talk about it? Maybe if you talk to me you can figure out what it is you want to do, because I still don’t think you should just sit on this.”

“Want to? Never. Should I? Probably.” They stayed in silence, the news was shocking enough to keep it from being awkward. There was a long pause before Katsuki finally spoke up again.

“Look, everyone knows he was a late bloomer but no one knows how late. It was like a month after school had started we were talking about high school and everyone knew I wanted to go to U.A. then the teacher mentions that Deku wants to go too, but at the time he still didn’t have signs of a quirk, at least that he showed. I had known him my whole life, I knew he wanted to be a hero and I also knew that if he did whatever the entrance exam practical was he would probably die or get seriously injured.

That doesn’t excuse what I said but I didn’t want him to get hurt, no matter how badly I treated him he was my best friend once, hell one of my only friends ever at that point. Everyone else flocked to me because I was flashy and powerful, he was my friend before we had to worry about quirks. So that year I was especially hard on him and it is so fucked up because even then it hurt to be mean to him, and yet I did it anyway because I had the fucked up mindset that he was going to hold me back from being a hero because he could never be one.

Then he jumps into the fucking middle of me and the sludge monster and I was so fucking mad that he did, if All Might hadn’t been there he would have been dead, all to save me who had told him to take a fucking swan dive off of a god damn building earlier that SAME FUCKING DAY.

Eventually, I apologized, obviously, now we are closer than we have been since we were four and you wanna know what he told me when I apologized for telling him to do that? He told me that his thought right after I told him was

‘Idiot! If I had really jumped, you’d be charged with bullying me into suicide!! Think before you speak!’

He was more worried about me getting in trouble than he was about what I actually fucking said to him. What kind of a shitty person can do all that to someone then still try to ask them out huh?! That's not even all, that's the worst of it but I gave him hell to try and protect him instead of growing a fucking pair and just telling him to not be reckless or even being there myself to fucking protect him. The only good thing to come out of that shitshow is that I was the only one fucking with him, no one else dared to bully him because he was my target. Do you hear how fucking awful that sounds? The only good thing I did for him was bully him enough that no one else did. So yeah it’s fucking complicated.

Now I learned his nervous ticks because I’m fucking afraid that I still make him nervous. Like today I saw him start tapping his damn pinky as we got closer to my room and I freaked the fuck out and tried to figure out why he was nervous, how can I try to fucking date someone that I still check to see if they are afraid of me? The answer is I fucking can’t.” As Katsuki finished talking he realized he had tears running down his face, he didn’t even know when he started crying. He never met Kirishima’s eyes, he couldn’t take whatever hatred he was sure they displayed.

“Listen, that’s not who you are anymore, and if Midoriya is still by your side after all of that what makes you think he would abandon you now? I’m not going to push you anymore because it won’t do any good but I still think you should tell him, you talked out your past and now you guys are friends, why does it have to stop there?” Kirishima patted Katsuki’s knee from where he sat next to him. Katsuki finally looked up to see an encouraging smile on his friend’s face.

“Maybe I will. Shit! He’s probably still trying to figure out what happened earlier fuck! He wakes up basically being smothered by me then finds out I have a-” he stopped short.

“A crush?” Kirishima filled in.

“Yes, he thinks I have one on someone else! Fuck, I need to find him.”

“Dude, why don’t you take a second to eat something and clean yourself up? You both missed lunch and, no offense dude, but you kinda look like a mess.” Katsuki looked in a mirror and realized Kirishima was right, he was in rumpled sweatpants and a tank top, his hair was still messy from his nap, and his face was red and slightly puffy.

“Ok yeah, you’re right. Hand me my phone?”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna text pink cheeks and ask her to keep Deku busy until I can go talk to him, I don’t want him to be in the middle of something.”

[Baku] Hey, is Deku with you?

[Uraraka] Why.

[Baku] I need to talk to him.

[Uraraka] About?

[Baku] Does it fucking matter?

[Uraraka] Yeah it kinda does, so why do you need to talk to him?

[Baku] Why does it matter?

[Uraraka] Maybe because I saw him walk out of your room looking like a mess and he won’t tell me why.

[Baku] Fuck, are you serious?

[Uraraka] Yes I’m serious! I keep trying to ask but he keeps changing the subject.

[Baku] Oh shit can you keep him busy for like 20 minutes? I just need some time then I can go talk to him and sort everything out

[Uraraka] Only if you tell me why he doesn’t want to talk about it.

[Baku] Fine whatever, him and I fell asleep watching a movie together Kirishima walked in to find us laying together then the stupid head told him that I like someone but I’m not really sure what part he doesn’t want to talk about.

[Uraraka] When you say laying together you mean…

[Uraraka] Cuddling?

[Baku] Yeah.

[Uraraka] How close were you?

[Baku] Does it matter?

[Uraraka] Yes! I won’t keep him here unless you tell me.

[Baku] Fuck! Fine, he was basically on top of me, hugging me and my arms were around him. Now, are we done? Can I count on him being with you?

[Uraraka] One more thing. When you say you ‘like’ someone, you mean like a crush right?

[Baku] Seriously?

[Baku] Fine. Yes.

[Uraraka] Alright he’ll be with me in the kitchen.

[Baku] Perfect.

“Alright, I have twenty minutes to pull myself together and figure out what to say to him. Fuck, I don’t know what to say to him. What did you say to get Pikachu to go out with you?”

“Oh, we’re already together, we’ve been dating for like three weeks, he and I just thought this would be the best way to get you to ask out Mido.”

“Are you fucking serious?! You know what that is a problem for another time, just tell me how it went down three weeks ago.”

“Well, basically I saw Denki turn down a girl from the support course and so I went and asked him why he said no, he told me she wasn’t his type so I asked him what his type was and he told me that he was into guys so the girl really didn’t have a chance and so I took a risk and asked him if he wanted to go with me to get dinner, like on a date, were my words i think and he said yes. And while we were at dinner we ended up talking about we had both been kinda crushing on each other and he said that and I quote “At least we aren’t as bad as Kacchan and Deku’ and he said your names in air quotes so we came up with a plan to get you to ask out Mido.”

“You are absolutely no help, you are only going to make me mad. Fucking three weeks and you don’t tell me.”

“You have been pining after Mido for like a year now I don't want to hear anything.”

“Fine, whatever, just help me figure out what to say.”

“Just tell him the truth! That would be the easiest thing to do.”

“Ok, you know what I’m going to fix myself up and then go find him I don’t want to hear you anymore you are not making me feel any better.”

“Alright bro, just tell me how it goes ok?”

“Tch yeah whatever.”

Kirishima leaves Katsuki in his room, where he spends the next 15 minutes washing his face, brushing his hair, finding something to wear, and folding the blanket Deku left. Before he knows it, it’s time to head down to the kitchen, but when he gets there he sees Uraraka sitting by herself.

“What the fuck pink cheeks! I thought you said you would keep him here!”

“I did, he's just going to the bathroom, calm down Bakugou.” Katsuki stood facing her, back to the door and let out a sigh.

“So have you figured out what you’re going to tell him?”

“Nope, not in the slightest.”

“I think you should just say it, just tell him ‘Deku I have a crush on you’ just like that.”

“Yeah no I don’t think so, also how do you know that I… like him?”

“Because neither of you is as subtle as you’d like to think, anyway if not just telling him then what are you going to say?”

“I don’t know! All I know is that I can’t just tell him.”

“And why not?”

“Right, yeah. Cause telling him ‘hey Deku i just thought you should know that I have a giant fucking crush on you, so much so that apparently half of this damned school knew before either of us did, and I’d really like to date you if you want to.’ would totally go over well, and why the hell do you keep moving like that? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I was trying to tell you to shut up!”

“And why is tha-”

“Hey, Kacchan.”

“Hey Deku. WAIT DEKU!” At this Katsuki finally turned around, blushing like crazy, no matter what he said.

“I’ll let you two talk…” Uraraka made her way out of the kitchen leaving the two boys alone.

“So… how much did you hear?”

“I’ve been here since the first ‘Hey Deku’”

“Oh wow ok yeah she really was trying to tell me to shut up.”

“Um, Kacchan?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you really mean what you said?”

“Well yeah, as much as I wish you hadn’t heard it that way I wasn’t lying.” The two were still in the same places, Deku in the doorway and Katsuki in the middle of the room.

“What about the thing Kirishima said back in your dorm?”

“He was talking about you, dumbass.” Maybe the insult wasn’t necessary, but it made both feel more comfortable, it felt more familiar than anything else at that point. Katsuki decided to lean against the island behind him.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” After Katsuki responded neither spoke for a moment, tension hung around them. Until Katsuki finally broke.

“So, do you want to go get dinner, like on a date? Maybe today?” After Kirishima told him what happened between him and Kaminari, Katsuki couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“OH! Yes! I would love to, today?” Deku seemed to finally realize what was happening as he responded, excitement taking over his features.

“Yeah? You really want to?” Katsuki let himself become hopeful, the entire thing was far more nerve-wracking than he imagined.

“Yes, Kacchan! When and where?” The enthusiasm was clear on Deku’s face and it seeped into Katsuki.

“How about tonight I’ll pick you up at your dorm at six? And where will be a surprise.”

“Sure! That will give me plenty of time to get ready, and it will give me a chance to talk to Uraraka, I need to chew her out for not telling me anything, she saw how much of a mess I wa-”

“Deku! You’re mumbling.” A small, fond smile appeared on Katsuki’s face, although he would never admit it.

“Oh! Sorry Kacchan, sometimes I can’t tell that I’m actually saying things out loud!”

“Nah, it’s fine. I just figured you probably wouldn’t want me to hear everything you were about to say.” A red glow took over Deku’s face, it was unfairly cute in Katsuki’s eyes.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Oh yeah! One more thing, you left your blanket in my room, I folded it up and left it on my bed, do you wanna go get it?”

“Oh no it’s fine, you can just give it to me tomorrow after classes, I don’t need it right away!” The red on Deku’s face got slightly darker.

“Alright, so I’ll just meet you at your dorm at six?” Katsuki finally straightened up, off the counter, and made to walk towards Deku.

“Yeah, sounds perfect!”

“Can't wait,” Katsuki said as he reached Deku. Before he left the kitchen, he leaned down and gave Deku a swift peck on the cheek, with confidence he didn’t realize he possessed at the moment.

The small sign of affection made them both blush madly, but Katsuki quickly walked away before either could realize that they were in a similar state.

As the two separated Katsuki’s mind drifted back to Deku’s pinky, the damned thing was out to ruin his life, but if that was the cost of being with Deku, then he was willing to let it wreak havoc. And if that night, Katsuki fell asleep wrapped in a large blanket surrounded by Deku’s scent, that would be between him and Deku, who was suspiciously happy to find a smell of burnt sugar lingering on his favorite blanket when he got it back.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed if you want to read a sequel of either any of the other pairs mentioned in this fic (maybe a get-together or a snapshot of what these two mean when they say their class needs a matchmaker.) OR if you want to see their date just let me know! I just didn't want to invest so much into this project when I have another request if I didn't know how much of this people would want to read! Thank you again!

Also, what are your opinions on the Mario Kart players? I really want to know what more people think, I've already had two people tell me Baku would play as Bowser but I kinda like him playing as Baby Mario, especially in this context.

#bakudeku #Izukatsu #katsudeku #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #bakudeku fic #izuku midoriya #Katsuki Bakugō #bakugou x midoriya #katsuki x izuku #deku x kacchan #deku #kacchan #writing game #pinky finger

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the-lightning-strikes-again · 5 years

Text

In which I learned an important life lesson

Hi, all. I very rarely post about personal issues on this blog, and I want to respect any individuals who would prefer not to read salt/content relating to negativity, so I’m posting my salt about a recent Voltron fandom issue I’ve experienced below the line. Whether you prefer to skip over this message or read it, I hope you take care, and thank you again for all of the love and support you offer to me within this crazy world, haha. You’re all great. You inspire me to keep writing. <3

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It’s a hilarious and painful moment when you see people being a harassing anti about a character, knowingly going into said fan community to spread their spam, who know they shouldn’t do that, but still do it anyway. And it’s even more hilarious when you try to play ball with an anti, because it just never ends well.

For the record, I attempted to reach out privately to a very vehement Allura anti after they began posting in the Lotura tags, in an attempt to remind them that all fictional characters are ultimately at the whim of the humans producing them, and that VLD canon is a mess, and that many people in the fandom are aware of how canon absolutely stripped the potential and individual character arcs of not only Allura and Lotor, but also of every single character in the show, for the sake of cruel shock actor. My goal was to explain that this is why many adults in the Allura or Lotura fandom so easily reject canon as a poorly constructed fanfiction itself and turn to fanon constructions of both Lotor and Allura instead, where the damaging messages in canon don’t have to exist, and the story can be rewritten to champion wholesome messages, which is what a lot of Allura stans and Lotura fans wanted before canon stole that hope away. My goal was not to excuse or champion any damaging message or behavior as ultimately seen in canon VLD Allura, canon VLD Lotor, or any other character.

After I sent my introductory message, I was blocked, and the person posted particularly vehement messages to their blog about my and apparently other people’s attempts to reach out, refusing to speak to any Lotura or Allura fan while also violently continuing to spew their myopic hate and admitting they knew it was wrong to post in the lotura tag but that apparently they have a unique right to do so.

In case my name comes up in any derogatory manner regarding the whole thing, I want to clear the air right now about the message I sent to them, which I sent in hopes of building a bridge and having meaningful discussion, instead of turning a blind eye to ongoing strife in this fandom. This was the message I sent:

“Hello! I hope you're doing well today. I saw your recent anti-Allura post in the Lotura tag and wanted to reach out to you to talk about it. I have some thoughts for you to consider if you are interested. I felt personally reaching out first might be more respectful than reblogging with the details of how and why I have difficulty with some of the implications in your posted perspective. I'd like the chance to chat with you about some details that have helped me really put VLD canon content, and the ongoing Lotura fandom, into perspective. Please let me know if you'd be interested in a discussion of such. Thanks!”

Here is photo proof of that message in private message.

So in the end, sorry to all my followers that I felt I needed to post this information to protect myself in case they come after me. Perhaps it’s just my own paranoia, and hopefully nothing more comes of it. But lesson learned. There are some people in this world who want to hold onto their hate over having a meaningful discussion with other living human beings with feelings who hope for reconciliation and healing together from harmful canons. This person used to follow me and at one time I guess?? liked my works or parts of it?? which makes this whole scenario all the crazier and even more hurtful.

If you find yourself in a similar situation where you want to reach out to an anti, my hard-earned wisdom on this day says to just block them and leave it at that. People will continue to knowingly abuse the tagging system and troll fanon and incite strife among fans over the sake of one development/production team’s interpretation of fictional characters. But you don’t have to get caught up in it. Your time is precious. Don’t waste it.

Peace and love, all.

#salt #negative #vld critical #voltron critical #voltron fandom salt #voltron fandom critical #idk what other tags I could tag this with to ensure people trying to filter salt don't see it #sorry I had to post this #I will return to writing now #I feel a need to post several new lotura works

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norcumii · 5 years

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Reblogged from the prior journal, originally posted on 11/02/2017. Egged on by @poplitealqueen!

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WELL I WASN’T PLANNING ON THIS, and in fact have been screeching the entire way I’m not writing RvB crossover with Clone Wars, but then @aces-to-apples HAD to go make a comment and I happened to see it in that sweet spot right between “i am sleeping GO AWAY” and “give me CAFFEINE” where ideas can lodge themselves.

And Grey is. Uh. Loud. So y’all get first pass no nope totally not doing more STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT fic. Timeframe is bullshitting and from my knowledge of only the first 12 seasons (…ok, ok, and 4 episodes into 13. But none of that is relevant, I think). No longer under a cut because we see how well that worked last time.

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Kix hadn’t been with the patrol that had returned with an unconscious, armored person, but he heard plenty in the time it took her to wake up. This was supposed to be a quiet little planet, but the locals were working with the Seps to keep it interesting, by which he meant they had a functional base for once, but he spent more of his time at it fixing up brothers than out and about fighting.

Having someone in an unknown type of armor “appear out of thin air” with an “abnormal thunder-crack” only for her to faceplant? Unusual, even for the 501st. He didn’t like having an unknown factor stored among his wounded, but after they’d removed the armor to find what seemed to be a baseline human? Not too many better options. She had one hand shackled to the bed, and meanwhile Kix could keep an eye on her while doing his rounds, and hopefully the natives would be quiet for the next half rotation.

The almost shrill voice cut through the wounded brothers’ murmurs like a knife. “Oh. It looks like transposing the coordinates can make it past the blockade. Score another one for Science!” The woman sat up slowly, giving the binders on her wrist an absent frown. “That’s not Charon tech so – ” She stopped with a sharp inhale, looking around and going wide-eyed. The entire room was watching now, because injured brothers got bored and those who were mobile enough to do weapon and armor maintenance usually enjoyed a distraction.

The woman’s eyes went wider and she squeaked. Kix was already hustling over, but he couldn’t help but wonder at the tone and body language. That didn’t look scared.

“OH MY GOD I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE I AM AND LOOK AT YOU!” Every brother in the blast radius of the screech recoiled because she somehow got even more piercing. “IDENTICAL BONE STRUCTURE AND BUILD AND THERE’S NO WAY THAT COULD BE NATURAL DEVIATION THOUGH YOU AND YOU AND YOU I WANT TO STUDY YOUR DNA AND FIND OUT JUST WHAT MUTATIONS HAPPENED ARE YOU CLONES WHAT DEVIANCE FROM BASELINE WAS CONSIDERED– ”

“Quiet in my med bay,” Kix hissed, having no compunctions about grabbing the nearest scalpel and getting into the woman’s personal space. He had his free hand on her shoulder, ready to dig into a nerve cluster if he had to, and blade held with clear intent. He might be medical but he’d never liked the Kaminoan’s distant view of every one of them as a science experiment. He wasn’t about to take this from a shrieky civilian.

Her volume immediately dropped into a more normal range but she didn’t stop gushing. “– and I don’t know this tech either are you using a nuclear based power or plasma and what kind of battery life does it have and Sweetie if you’re looking to disable my arm you want to move two centimeters to the left for maximum speed and is that a submersion tank I see why is the fluid red is it– ”

Carp – one of the brothers she’d pointed too earlier, possibly due to his green eyes – shook his head. “Lady, your neck isn’t long enough for you to be that Kaminoan.”

“– is that some kind of cultural reference or are– ”

“Quiet,” Kix repeated, this time with mild pressure to the nerve cluster. Which he was not two centimeters off of, because he had a fucking scalpel and that was far better to disable someone with. This was just to get her attention.

Urgh. Something about scientists critiquing his technique instead of an actual trainer always set his hackles up.

The woman shushed for a moment, then gave him an annoyed look. “My emergency teleportation cube fiddling means I’m either in some alternate universe – and since this doesn’t look like Chorus I think not – or I’m someplace far far different which with this radically different level of tech is where I’d put the smart money. And you expect me to not ask questions?”

“You are in my medical facility, so I expect you to have some respect for my patients. That does not include treating us like experiments.”

The annoyance morphed to fond condescension. “Oh Sweetie. I treat everyone like experiments. That’s the only way it’s fun!”

“Well, ad’ika,” he snarled right back, “some of us have standards.”

She sighed. “I know, but it’s statistically impossible for anyone to meet mine. But! We do what we can in the meantime.” She held up the binders that had been around her wrist and a part of the bed. “By the way was this supposed to be difficult to remove or was that your own little test?”

Kix glared, and he could hear an impressed whistle behind him. He swapped the glare over to the offender, Squint. Good brother, not too bright, but an expert with explosives. Squint also had no healthy fear of medics.

“That was under five minutes.”

That earned Squint the fond look. “Of course it was. Locking mechanisms tend to be the same everywhere, you need to line up the bits with the other bits. I will grant you that this was a bit of a challenge though I am rusty.”

Squint rolled his eyes right back. “That was basic binders. It shouldn’t have taken more than two, even if it’s unfamiliar tech.”

“For a civvie?” someone asked behind Kix where he couldn’t ID the bastard.

Squint shrugged at them. “I dunno, but can you imagine Sergeant Duvell accepting anything over two?”

The woman’s eyes darted among the brothers doing the teasing, then of all the damn things locked back on to Kix. “Two minutes to escape unknown technological levels of handcuffs.”

He couldn’t tell what that tone meant, and some instincts were hard to kick. He answered the damned scientist. “On the outside, for non-human based constructs. Our teachers had high standards.”

For the first time she glared, looking annoyed. “No one learns that fast. *I* don’t learn that fast.”

Squint needed to learn to keep his mouth shut. “We have to. We do.”

Her face lit up and she looked like she was having some kind of religious moment. “Show me.”

Kix couldn’t tell if that was a demand for training or evidence, but he was ‘saved’ by the klaxon that meant incoming wounded. He let out a string of irritated Huttese, because while they had the beds for once they didn’t have the brothers they needed to get the wounded to them. He stepped back from the creepy scientist and his his wrist com. “Everyone who’s still mobile and had either two hours or less than three stims, hit triage now.”

“You don’t have enough medical personnel, do you.”

He glared at the creepy scientist, then stepped close enough to keep his growl quiet. He didn’t need the men to hear this. “If you’re volunteering, I don’t take help from folks who putter around in a lab all day. If you haven’t spent at least a full day wrist deep in living, screaming people and kept more of them alive than not, sit down and badger these brothers and stay away from incoming wounded.”

He didn’t expect a sunny smile, nor the woman hopping to her feet. “I’m shorter than you so it’s sometimes closer to elbows than wrists, but lead the way! I promise not to waste time taking notes while treating patients but I will need something to write on later!”

Within two patients, Kix knew several things.

She was in fact as good as she’d implied. Her bedside manner was useless except for the fact that she seemed like she could keep even Jedi in Medical long enough for treatment, which he wasn’t about to complain.

He couldn’t decide if he wanted to kill her, or adopt her.

~end

#star wars #Red vs Blue #rvb #My writing #CrossOver #reviving from the purge #spoilers #long post is long

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carlottastudios · 5 years

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Can I just say it?

There are some really. Really. Fucking. FANTASTIC! People! On this site.

And I’m going to call out those I know right here right now.

@with-this-crownofthorns

Probably the first fellow Storm Hawker I actually chatted with on this site. And whom I swear I don’t talk to enough. In all of our interactions, you have been sweet and funny and just so nice! Please can we talk Storm Hawks sometime and scream together about how much we physically and psychologically need this show to return?

@stormageddon-101

I already called you out in a recent post, friend, but I AIN’T FINISHED! I swear to the gods, you are, in my eyes, one of the most bombastic, awesome and badass fans out there! And now I just love talking to you so much! I am legit ecstatic that I got to connect with you again after, what, years of relative silence? Yeah, we knew each other on DA and we found each other again. Not just with Storm Hawks, but also Voltron and The Dragon Prince, and maybe more, who knows?! We share many interests, but we also have our differences (as our current chat here on Tumblr no doubt proves), and I just find that amazing. You’re a mother effin storm queen, my friend. And you make me so so happy.

@melonstar21

YOU! You magical pixie of liking ALL OF MY POSTS?!?!!!! I know I’ve already thanked you before, but I’m going to do it again! Thank you! So very much! Don’t think for a second I don’t notice how your likes make up 80% of my activity page, AT LEAST. I’m shocked and touched and amazed that you keep up with my random-ass self so again, thank you!

@mx-kit

Buddy. Fren. Bruh. KIT! You already know you are DA BEST! DA! BEST! I can’t say it enough!!! Your crazy matches my crazy and our daily chats on Discord never cease to fill me with joy!!! You are incredibly generous with your drawings and your time and your sheer enthusiasm, and you are one of the kindest and most wholesome people I’ve ever had the utter joy of meeting on this or any site. I can’t even remember how I managed to luck myself into our friendship, but I’m so goddamn happy the universe saw fit to bring us together. I swear if/when we meet IRL, your ribs are going to be in serious danger because I’m gonna hug the shit out of you and just-GODS! I can’t stress this enough! You’re oodles and oodles of wonderful and I’m so grateful to you for blessing me with your presence.

@sunder-the-gold

How such a clear genius and master of common sense and logic came to view my blog as worth their attention is beyond me. I take so much joy in reading your thoughts in your many, many, MANY posts. You inspire to want to think more and type more in my comments, though your seemingly endless energy almost exhausts me just watching my dash fill to the brim with your reblogs. I don’t think we’ve ever had the chance to talk at length, but regardless, I admire you a lot and respect you and think you’ve more than earned this callout.

@mojo72400

Like Sunder, we haven’t known each other long. But it is still mind-boggling to me how we share SO MANY RWBY SHIPS! Like, it is SO uncanny! You’re very fun to talk to and I love your RWBY Husbands posts: they never fail to make me laugh or grin and they’re just a ray of sunshine! Keep doing what you’re doing, my friend! You’re doing it so well!!!

@lightning-claw

I swear to the gods, you. Yes, you! YOU are the flaming light that’s keeping the Storm Hawks fandom alive! At least on this site! I just-I just can never EVER get enough of you or your posts! You’re such a wonder and you just fill my little Storm Hawker heart with tons of joy and happiness and UGH! LET ME WALLOP-HUG YOU, ATMOSIAN SENPAI!!!

@cloudburst-paint-water

Again, we have not known each other long, fellow Hawker. And hopefully that will change!!! I’m always so happy to receive an ask from you and would be more than happy to chat Storm Hawks (or whatever other fandom we have in common) with you!!! Also, you too are a sugary-sweet magical glittery like pixie. Be proud of that fact.

@laserdog10

A new member of the like-fairy army, hmm? Except it’s not just likes for you, isn’t it? Nah. YOU REBLOG MY S**T! AND YOU MAKE ME SO HAPPY!!! THANK YOOOOUUUUUUU!!!

@maxgentlman2

Another fellow Hawker I have recently began to call friend. I just-Thank you! Thank you for existing and being here and writing and having so many ideas and sharing them and blessing me and everyone with your lovely self! I’m sorry I don’t reply to you as often or as quickly as you deserve. Because you deserve to be showered in notes and praise of all sorts! Thank you so much!

@p-r-imeday

We knew each other back on DA, and yet here we are, also on Tumblr! Also, I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I’ll be honest, I don’t even remember where and/or how our aquaintanceship (friendship?) started. But like a phoenix, it’s rising again from the ashes, and I’m so happy it is! You are legit hilarious and so very talented and I want to chat with you again!

@esperhuntress

Your majesty. Your ladyship. Your grace. QUEEN OF OZGLYN!!! I am legit blessed to have found you as an RP partner, and I lament only that we don’t speak nearly as often as I wish we did and that I no doubt strain your patience with my late late LATE LATE LAAAAATE replies. Of course I understand that you’re busy, and I absolutely will not try to force myself on you by trying to chat with you at inconvenient times, but just please know that you’re amazing and lovely and I’m so happy you are not only my favourite Glynda, but also one of my first ever friends in the OzGlyn niche of RWBY. And I’m so grateful. (And so ridiculously sorry for keeping you waiting in our thread DX)

There are more lovely, decent people I could call out, and who deserve to be called out, but my hand is getting really tired from typing, so I’m just going to tag some of you:

@ozcarpin, @tellme-professorozpin, @deeptrashfury, @ozpin-defense-squad, @ya-boi-aerrow, @luveus, @chuckles-the-jester

And to everyone who I tagged and to every decent person out there I haven’t tagged: I love you. I love you all so much! Thank you for putting up with this hellsite to grace it with your presence. Decent people like all of you really make the world a better place.

#aaaaaand DONE!#no big dump of tags on this one #cuz my hand shit-tired #personal #Behold My Beautiful Little Brain Child (my original post)#Oh Look It Me (personal)

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mystieres · 5 years

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hello

it’s swagoru. this will be a message for the people who care about me or just don’t have anything else to do. (sorry if this is straightforward.) it is april 3 today, so please don’t treat this as a prank.

includes: general mood for the past few months, notice of hiatus, where else u can find me, and my plans while i’m on hiatus

once you’ve started reading this, please read through everything. i might cause misunderstandings if only part of this is read.

i am posting with the risk that people will not see this. and that’s alright. i just want to say it. i’m used to people not saying anything back for now. i never expect responses of any kind until they are actually given. this is a little pessimistic but i promise you all that i will not be doing anything reckless. and i promise that i do not blame anyone for this. the message was intended for the sole purpose of expressing how i feel and what i will be doing, and it is not against anyone.

i’ll start with the bad stuff first.

i’ll be frank, and i won’t blame anyone. i feel unwanted on social media and in general. and i don’t want anyone telling me that they did want me around all along, because that doesn’t change the way i experienced or the way i currently feel. i don’t want anyone to apologize for this either, because maybe they really don’t want me around, or they didn’t know how i felt. in any way, none of you are ultimately responsible for how i feel. don’t be. don’t feel responsible. in the end, i should be the one responsible for my own feelings and happiness. it’s just what i’m feeling right now. but i really do love and appreciate the messages of help i have gotten, all the gifts. they have pushed me forward.

while i tried to be as accommodating as possible before, i somehow ended up becoming selfish. as much as i tried to prevent people becoming uncomfortable, somehow i did. i unknowingly hurt others or made them uncomfortable. i do have my own personal problems but i won’t use them as an excuse. i’ve been through a lot, but it shouldn’t have changed the way i talked with others. i’m sorry.

i know i might have been rude or weird without being aware of it. but i just wanted you all to know that i appreciate you all a lot. everything has been causing me anxiety lately. i don’t know what i’m supposed to feel on social media anymore. i feel like i don’t belong anywhere anymore. irl, all my other friends are in relationships, and i’m really starting to feel that i was meant to be a lone wolf. right now, everyone’s already developed close ties when i started interacting with them.

in short, when it comes to building relationships and socializing, while some of you consider yourselves bad at doing this, i am a complete failure. i don’t know how to interact with past friends. even a hello seems awkward and like a burden. but i am afraid of hurting, of being hurt, leaving, and being left behind. and it always feels like something is going out of my control. and i am creating and maintaining the status quo of being alone. i am hoping that this will change. of course, i should be changing the way that i look at myself. but i see myself as nothing more than a problem to others, and have been for the past six or so years.

now, some of you might have offered or will offer your dms for me, and i appreciate it. it really means a lot. unfortunately, i’ve never been the type to want to rely on anyone because then, i’d feel like a burden. most of the time i’d prefer to just rely on myself instead of giving other people more problems as i know they’re busy, or i’m just not close with them. i have been so used to people spoon-feeding me, or completely leaving things to me, that asking for help is a completely foreign idea. someone like me, who is completely aware of her weaknesses, needs to learn how to rely on others. i would like to change this someday, but it’s just improbable for me to do that right now.

i have been having periods of silence where i would refuse to talk or reply to anyone for a few days at a time unless necessary. this has happened at least twice in the past month. i don’t want to feel rude or like a problem. another reason is that i don’t get that much interactions anymore. so i just don’t see any point. my lack of self-esteem aside, maybe i’m not that likable, i’m not very fun to talk to, or maybe what i make sucks or i’m just not talented enough. the algorithm has something to do with it too, i guess. all of them are good explanations.

a lot of you can understand how disheartening that must feel. personally it makes me feel inferior or unwanted. often i get told, “well, screw what they do. just continue to do your stuff!” and i will. i tell this to other people a lot. i’ll continue to draw and write. but as for small talk, i don’t know what exactly to say. there has to be a point now. i can’t say things that don’t make sense anymore.

so to the people i know on tumblr, instagram, twitter, and discord, thank you so much for being a great part of my little circle of friends. i’m going to admit i don’t keep many. i love you all so much that you’ve all made me cry with your kind words, gifts, and playlists. the music, art, writing, and advice you share. a bunch of you even met me before i turned into a legal adult, and even saw me through graduation. although i can’t recall every single thing i’ve experienced, i just wanted you all to know that i’ve been thankful for everything so far. you’re all great and amazing people. and i feel like i can’t express it enough. i am hoping that this is just another phase of me trying to break out of my shell.

there is a high likelihood of me going on an indefinite hiatus. this has happened before. all these past breaks have been half-assed and only making my emotional health worse. if i feel unwanted, then something must be wrong with me and i must change it myself. but i can’t do it while being problematic to others. it’s self-defeating. i must go on and better myself. and most of all, i’m tired of treating my depression and adhd as excuses. i’ll experience problems, but i don’t want to talk about them anymore when i could just do something.

i have logged out of my current discord because i always feel compelled to open messages and talk. i’m not forced. but i’m making myself uncomfortable.

twitter will probably be the exception (handle: swagoru_), and i will continue posting online, waaay less on tumblr. i cannot guarantee replies to messages. i’ve tried socializing but i just suck, so i’m too afraid to reply to anything. i have also put up a wordpress (check reblogs for the site) but there’s nothing in it yet. best site ever, because i won’t feel pressured or forced to interact or gain clout.

and here’s some slightly better news. please let me flex for now.

i am graduating with around/at least 11 awards bagged in total for my entire high school life (grades 9-12). some math contests and journalism stuff. and i am going on to college.

it leaves me with just one issue: money. i am budgeting the inheritance i received from my late mother. aside from her, no one else is earning money for me. i have the support of my grandparents but i want to establish financial independence as soon as possible. i tried to apply for a job a while back but i was so busy. but i might take it this summer. for months i have been considering commissions, but it’s either i don’t have enough clout or talent to do them. my works barely get any notice so i’m deciding against it. but i am always going to try improving my art, writing, and myself. one day i will be brave enough to open commissions. i hope some of you will consider when i have my portfolio ready.

this means that i will be a lot busier preparing and improving myself. this also serves as my adjustment period from a high school student who was sheltered and completely dependent all her life to someone who is slowly being introduced into adulthood and reality. i’m still learning how to live. i can’t let others befriend me while i’m still a mess. and most of all, even with my conditions, i don’t expect the world to adjust to me.

but when i become active here again, i hope that i’ll have the courage to speak and reply like usual. i hope to get rid of all this negativity and this shyness i must overcome.

i hope you read through everything. i’m going to miss you guys. i don’t know when i’ll be more active to talk. hopefully when we do, i will have become a better person by then.

all the love,

swagoru 💙

#mentions of depression #mentions of anxiety #mentions of adhd #real life talk #swagoru on hiatus

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boogiewrites · 6 years

Text

A Girl Walks Into A Bar

Chapter 1

Characters: Declan Harp x Bella (OFC)

Word Count: 6400+

Summary: Frontier Modern AU. Declan is a bar owner and local urban legend with a reputation he’d like to leave in the past. Bella is a rough around the edges, low key sweetheart that isn’t from his part of town. After meeting with the help of some bad luck and perhaps a touch of fate, how far will their undeniable chemistry take them until their histories catch up with them?

Warnings/Tags: Language

A/N: Currently watching Frontier, love it, felt a burst of creative ideas and I just went with it. First time writing for this character. As always, shout out to @jaegeeeeer who told me to watch the show and enables my bad behavior. <3

Positive feedback is MUCH appreciated! Reblogs, likes, asks and comments feed me to write more! Let me know if you’d like tagged in my work.

My Masterlist.

You'd had a bad day. Murphy's Law was created for the sole purpose of explaining the day you'd had. Your car is fucked, sitting in a shop currently as you just have to wait for a phone call about the state it's in and what limb you'll have to sell to afford the work. The bus was late, the coffee machine at work wasn't working and you'd dealt with assholes pretty much everywhere you'd went.

The bratty 16-year-old and her father that were in the studio that day had certainly earned the not affectionate in the least title. The Rolex wearing father, not attentive, blue tooth headset and nose stuck to a phone screen for the entirety of any communication you had with. He'd first insulted you, telling you to go fetch them coffee, tossing you a twenty while his clearly in need a smack and a therapist daughter barked a nonsensical order to you. You didn't go to Starbucks, you didn't know what the fuck any of this meant. You eat it anyway, as your boss is sighing and trying to keep the situation under control, seeing your known temper rising to the surface. You turn with an annoyed nod to leave, the father then smacking you on the ass on the way out. If your boss hadn't grabbed your arm, he would've been dealing with a broken pair of glasses and hopefully a cracked eye socket to accompany it.

You return from your errand, where of course, the barista was a dick. Still feeling insulted, seething as you see every switch and knob has been messed with in your absence. You hear the pterodactyl screech of this spoiled child from the booth, ignoring her while you fix what she's fucked up. Her father rushing you and claiming he was paying for this time and you were milking it.

After fixing others mistakes, you have to deal with the voice of the girl. You play it back over and over for her, she screams it sounds wrong, that you've fucked it up and it's your fault and you don't expect anything less from her at this point.

"Well it sounds wrong because you can't sing." you finally state matter of factly. You see your bosses hand go to her forehead, mouthing the word fuck.

The pterodactyl screeching does not falter, you are unphased despite the father now being tugged by his sleeve to you in the booth by his tantrum-throwing daughter, your boss walking in behind them.

"This is fucking insulting and I'm not doing it. This is a fucking studio for artists, not the next god damned Rebecca Black and her absentee fucking father! This is a place where we make MUSIC, we make ART here! Don't fucking insult my work here with this bullshit! I'm not here to cater to this fuckin' blue tool wearin' mother fucker and his piss baby of a kid!" you shout and you do not care. You started as an intern here, you worked your way up and you knew your value. No one else knew the technical side of things AND knew how to play instruments. Your boss knows this and knows she needs you as you both ignore the shouting from the two fuck heads who are still crying about things being unfair and unprofessional.

"I know. We need the money, I'm sorry. Why don't yo-"

"NEED THE MONEY?! BULLSHIT!" you shout, "If you needed the money so bad maybe don't go indulge your post-divorce crisis with plastic surgery and a new car CeeCee!" you grab your coat and angrily put it on.

"Just take the rest of the day off, Bella. This is clearly out of hand and no one can work like this." she says, not even mad at your words, you were never known to hold back your thoughts and knowing each other for years now your comments didn't phase her. You were a very passionate woman and it was all part of your process she'd quickly learned. Can't be as knowledgeable about music and art as you are without having a burning passion inside you for it. Unfortunately for you, this fire extended outside of your work and hobbies sometimes and made you a bit of a hot head. But at this point in your fuming, you were growing tired, so you cut it short.

"You're fucking right!" you shout as you slam the door behind you. "Take the rest of the day off," you mumble and mock her in an immature way but man, you were pissed. It was already after 5pm what rest of the fucking day was left! You're reminded of your car being gone as you stand in your reserved spot, staring at the freshly fallen snow that lay where it should. "Fuck." you groan, pulling on your gloves and tugging your hat over your wavy dark auburn hair. You had to walk to the bus stop and all you wanted was to go home and get drunk, so you in your winter wear, jeans and big black boots over them, a fleece lined leather jacket over your hoodie, all tied up cozy with a bow and a beanie. At least you'd checked the weather before you left the house so you were prepared for the walk.

You hear the sound of music as you walk down a street you'd driven past mindlessly, countless times. You're on the outskirts of the small community, outlying the city where you lived in a duplex, and much to your delight, you had no upstairs neighbors currently. No one to bitch about your music being played too loud or your guitar playing well into the night. As you round the corner, just a few blocks away from the, you're assuming, still shouting assholes, you let out a sigh as you recognize a guitar riff. It immediately sends the impulses you need to your muscles, your shoulders lowering finally from their tension. You've reached the source of the sound, you look up to the sign above the dark stone and wood front of the...bar...it would seem. You'd been past this place so many times and never stopped to look. "The Trading Post." you say to yourself, biting your blushed from the cold lips. You see the welcome neon advertising beer and you sigh. You stand there for a few moments, considering just stopping in here, they were playing Zeppelin after all...how bad could it be?

You must've been wearing your foul mood all over your face because one of the men standing in a circle of other men, all wearing biker vests turns to watch you go in.

"You ain't lookin' for trouble are ya?" he asks, eyebrow raised.

You show no sign of intimidation. "I'm going in to drink to make myself forget about the fuckin' trouble." you say, moving your gloved hand to the door.

"I ain't never seen you here before."

"That'd be because I've never been here before."

"Yeah..." he looks you up and down in judgment and not in a sexual way, which you're relieved by. "But I've been told to keep out the riff-raff."

"Well no offense but one might think you guys are that riff-raff." you say with a stare and an attitude. One of the other men laughs.

"What's your name?" his eyes narrow.

"What's yours?" you ask with the same swing of your chin.

"They call me Southie." he answers.

"They call me Bella." you nod back, extending your hand and he looks at it in a surprised way but takes it, a gentle shake.

"Well don't go in there to fuck with no one, especially not Declan now, you hear? He doesn't take too kindly to folks running their mouths much."

"Who the fuck is Declan?" you ask. All the men laugh.

"You must not be from around here." he grins.

"I work a few blocks back, but I don't live in this neighborhood, no." you explain.

"Ah. Well..." he huffs out a laugh. "If you've not heard of him, you'll still recognize him when you see him." he nods and the other guys chuckle again.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" you ask with a shake of your head.

"Just let the girl go get a fuckin' drink, man, she's clearly in a bad mood, just let the little firecracker go." he laughs. You narrow your eyes at him, not sure if that was a compliment or not.

"Alright." he shrugs. "Go on, get in there baditude." he says with a nod of his head towards the door.

You pull it open, your eyes don't have to adjust much because the lighting is dim, just as a bar should be in your opinion. There are multi-colored lights in strings across the corners of the ceiling, neon signs placed with no rhyme or reason on wood paneled and brick walls. You look down the line of booths along the wall, all an old green color that only existed in the 70's you're pretty sure, worn and patched up with duct tape below the table tops with carved words of love and hate on top. To your right, there is a long wooden bar, a beautiful old monster of a thing. Looked like it'd been there longer than the building and the building looked very old itself. There's a faint smell of mildew, smoke and cheap cologne in the air. Had you just by chance walked into the dive bar you'd always wanted to call your local? When you catch sight of the man behind the counter, you know you have.

His back is turned to you, even from the doorway you can tell he's tall. As you walk forward, pulling your gloves off and stuffing them into your pockets he just gets bigger and broader the closer you get. A clearly well loved, thin t-shirt is all he's wearing in the dead of winter. You suppose maybe the past the shoulders mess of waves and curls that fade from almost black to a lighter brown towards the ends is keeping him warm. Or perhaps the lights that dotted the line of the bar were, some covered with colored gels, some broken, but you found it very charming nonetheless.

You're reaching for your zipper as he turns, guessing he's heard the door shut behind you. He turns as if he's expecting someone else, his head tilting just slightly as you continue walking. An intimidating face to match his stature greets you. His thick beard, just left of unkempt sits course, a full lip buried in the midst of it peaks out at you. His complimentary to his olive skin and dark coloration of the brown with yellow coloring eyes look over you under a heavy brow and hooded lids. His almost Disney villain like naturally arched brows raise at your appearance in the bar. The act of unzipping your jacket while his eyes are on you makes your face flush. Or perhaps it was the heat in here. Hell, it could be both.

"What can I get ya?" he says in a deep but friendly voice.

"Uhhh..." you mumble for a moment, eyes looking over the bar back full of a plethora of bottles, some you've never heard of and for your Irish half, this was surprising as you'd known your fair share of alcohol in your life. "You have any real ale?" you ask with a wrinkle of your nose as he's looking to throw a towel somewhere out of sight to you.

His handsome face looks back up at you, this time a big grin appears, which you respond to with a few slow blinks. "We certainly do, babe." he says with a nod of his head, clearly supportive of your choice. Your eyes narrow as he turns at the use of the pet name. But you weren't getting a creepy vibe off this guy, but you were still withholding judgment. And as if your questions were meant to be answered, a man and woman walk into the bar, you feel the cold air move down and brush past your face.

"Oh hey, babydoll! Wasn't sure you'd show." he says, grabbing a box and walking it around the bar towards the man with the small woman.

"Hey Declan." he greets him, he picks her feet up off the floor with the entrapping hug he gives her. It makes the corner of your mouth want to pull back at the kindness behind the gesture. Looks like baby was just a word to him and part of you is grateful. "I'm running late sorry. I can't stay but I know I needed to get this before the morning."

"Otherwise you'd have me up at dawn waiting for you tomorrow to come to pick these up." he grins.

"It's like you know me sweetie." she grins up at him. He gives a hearty slap to shoulder of the man with her in greeting.

"You kids have fun then. That spots great for camping out up there. Just keep a lookout for bears." he says with a point of his finger at them both.

"Yes I know." she nods. "I googled everything, we'll be fine. Food up off the ground and everything, Got it."

"Good girl." he says patting her head, something she frowns insincerely at.

He returns to behind the bar, reaching back into a standing fridge and popping the top off a bottle before he slides it to you. "This one's my favorite." he says with a nod and a smile, your fingertips examine the green glass in your hands. He moves to shut the door to the room he'd retrieved the box from for the now gone, girl. You settle in on the stool, taking your jacket and hat off, fluffing your hair with one hand as he comes back. Your lips to the mouth of the bottle as his eyebrows raise at you in question.

"Shit man, that's good." your eyebrows raise as you look at the bottle. You hear a small grunt of laugh from him. "This looks like what those people just walked out with."

"Nah. Same people brew it, same label, different brew."

"Tastes like...fuckin' cherries or something." you say smacking your lips. "They must ferment it differently." you say, basically to yourself but it catches his attention. You knew your ale.

"Yeah they ferment it at a higher temperature, makes it have that fruity taste to it." he educates you further.

"This local?" your voice inflects with curiosity, meeting his eyes with yours.

"Yeah. But you aren't are you?" he says with that same warm expression.

You shake your head. "No." you take another drink. "I live closer to the city but I work just a few blocks over at the little studio on the corner." you explain.

"That sounds cool. I didn't think I'd seen you around before." his eyes narrow in thought.

"It can be but not today." you shake your head. "I've driven by this place every day on my way to work and never stopped before. With my car in the shop and after the shit day I've had the appeal of alcohol and Zeppelin I heard from outside earlier I just couldn't resist." you shrug and take another bigger drink.

"Well, I'm glad you did. I'm Declan." he extends his hand, you're struck with the size of his arms as one swings closer to you.

"Thanks. Bella." you say with a more friendly tone. Now you weren't strangers. "This your bar?" you ask.

"She's mine alright." he nods proudly. Your eyes wander down the long thin space of the booths and bar, as he walks to the end, and to your surprise he walks over to you, pulling a stool from between his legs and sitting next to you, elbow propped up on the bar. You see a larger room lies past, it remains dark and you can't tell much. But the warmth you feel coming off of his large body, now daunting next to yours pulls your attention from your curiosity of it. He scratches his head, scrunching his face, you look up at him from under your brow as his biceps appearance throws you more off than you'd like to admit. You see he's in light washed, slightly baggy jeans, holes, and scuffs galore, just as you'd expect from what you'd seen of his upper half. His boots have much the same appearance as him, sturdy and worn. "What's brought you to me and my humble second home tonight, Bell?" he asks, head tilted, eyes matched to yours, the laid-back vibe he had put you at ease and you welcomed it as it and the ale warmed you up from the inside out.

"Oh I've had myself a fucking DAY, Declan." you say with a roll of your eyes. He seems to like the use of his name. He likes the way it sounds, seeming to come from you so easily and without any loaded backstory attached.

"Sounds like it." he says with a lazy smile.

"I don't want to just sit here and bitch at you while you're working." you say shaking your head, not wanting to take the entirety of the man's attention.

"It's a weeknight sweetheart, do I look busy?" he asks with a smirk. Your big green eyes move around the bar.

"You've got a point," you say with a nod, taking another drink. "If you want to hear me bitch I mean...I'll sure as hell oblige." you say with a shrug, and he smiles, chin raised to show he's listening.

"Well, it all started..." you begin. You're about to get into the girl touching the recording equipment when a seemingly harmless middle-aged balding man bops around the corner of the back room you can't see.

"Gimmie a loooooong neck!" he shouts, drunk but not angry.

He turns with a frown of apology to you, which was needless but you appreciated it. "Get it yourself Gary, you've been drinking the same thing for 20 years." he shouts back, looking back at you will an animated roll of his eyes. When his eyes fall back on you, you're smiling. The first smile he'd seen since you came in. He knew he wanted to see more of them from you. "Don't mind him. You were saying something about a rejected sweet sixteen applicant?" he grins.

He listens, and intently, eyes always on you every time you look up from the bartop or from your bottle. He raises and slaps the bar top. "That's it girly." he says, moving back behind the bar again, "On the house." he states, putting another bottle in front of you.

"Wha-?" you ask with a wrinkled nose he finds charming.

"Your drinks tonight. On the house." he says as if it's obvious.

"Uh..." you stutter and show your surprise. "That's very kind of you but-"

"Nope. I see a dollar of your money and I'm not giving you any more of that." he grins, pointing to the bottle.

Damn, he was nice, you thought, a subtle frown on your face as he turns to reach for a bottle with a stopper in the top, sitting two shot glasses in front of you. Damn, he was really fucking nice.

"Christ, dude you giving me Jameson too?" your eyes are wide and you take a deep breath as he takes the glass in his hand, you mirror the action. "My ancestors applaud the choice." you say with a chuckle that he returns.

"Oh you're Irish?" his chin lowers and one eyebrow raises.

"Half yeah." you give a quick nod.

"Oh well then get the fuck outta here." he manages to get out without sputtering with laughter.

Your face scrunches up and you let out a louder laugh, your shoulders moving with it. "To..." you pause to think for a moment. "To this hangover not killing me tomorrow." you say with a wide smile he's thankful to see as proof that your mood is improving.

He nods, you tap your glasses on the bar top and shoot them back. "Won't think less of me for drinking on the job will ya?" he says with a smack of his lips.

"It's your fucking bar, man do whatever you want, who am I gonna tell?" you smirk.

So time passes and the drinks pass with it. People come in and out of the bar, you switch from stool to booth to pool table and back. You playfully argue about White vs Rob Zombie, as per the shirt you're wearing.

"At least I'm not Mr. Dad Rock over here, I bet you put on the B side of IV and give a girl a six pack and the panties just go FLYING don't they?" you say with a loud laugh he matches, both smacking at each other.

"You sound like you're speaking from experience," he says with a sigh, wiping his face as his eyes started watering from the goofiness of your banter through the night. "Sound a bit salty about it, to be honest." he teases.

You snort and smack his knee, "I might be speaking from both." you admit, a laugh that grows and you shut your eyes with it. "Who says you can't learn from your mistakes?" you say with a goofy shrug.”Even if it takes it a few times to stick.”

At this point in the night there are only two other people, as you're wiping the laughing tears from your eyes you notice this, then your phone lights up and you see the time. How the fuck was it past 10 already. You pick it up and look at it. "Fuck it's later than I thought." you say, pushing your hands on the countertop. You stand and feel his arm around you before you even realize your knees are knocking.

"Woah there, hun." he says, hands on your sides, eyes clearer than yours and concerned.

"Oh you went and got me fuckin' druuuunnnnnnnnk." you say in a deep scolding voice.

"In my defense, you did the drinkin' yourself there babe." he chuckles, still holding you steady as he stands.

"Never rode the bus wasted before. This'll be a fuckin' story to tell you next time I come in here for sure." Although he didn't think you wouldn't come back, he's glad to hear you were already thinking about it.

"You are not riding the bus like this, sweetheart. Not at this time of night." he says, shaking his head. "Not anytime actually. You baby foal. I thought you could handle your liquor."

"I can I've just been sitting for 12 hours straight haven't I? Makes the legs no worky." you explain with a frown and he laughs at you again.

"Whatever you gotta tell yourself." he pats your head, as you steady yourself with one hand.

"If I were shorter I'd be mad about that." you say. You hear him huff out a laugh as he moves behind the bar and retrieves a huge fur and leather coat. Guess he was human after all, he could be part sun god for all you knew. Maybe that's why those dudes warned you, a mere weak mortal walking into the den of god. Oh wow, you were drunk.

"You want a ride home hun?" he asks very politely with a hand on your shoulder. He was going to beg if he had to, he wasn't letting a nice girl like you alone whether you were drunk or not.

"Ugh," you say, putting your arms in your jacket in a fussy way. "It's like 20 minutes away Declan, I can't put you out like that I'll call an uber or somethin'."

"I close soon anyway, you aren't putting me out. Mike's here to lock up anyway." He didn't trust anyone else to make sure you got where you needed to go, feeling protective over you. Not many nice women came into his bar, he didn’t want you running away so soon. And of course he felt partially responsible for the amount of alcohol you'd consumed. He'd given you some shit over being drunk but damn did you hold it well. You weren't wobbly as you step away from the bar, bending at the knees and stretching your sides.

"Seeing as I've been seen here I don't think you'll murder me...Would you? Promise me you won't murder me and I'll let you take me home." you say with a nod, a smirk on your face as you shove one of your gloves into your mouth and pull the other on.

"I solemnly swear I will not murder you, Bell." he nods in a charming serious way.

You playfully narrow your eyes at him. "Cross your heart?" you say before a silly smile spreads across your face.

"And hope to die." he chuckles, moving his finger over his chest.

"Only a real fucking asshole would break one of those promises." you narrow your eyes again, tugging your hat on and moving towards the door. "And don't tell anyone but I don't think you're an asshole."

"Oh she's got compliments." he says with a fan of his face in jest at your words.

"Nah she's just drunk on Jameson." you laugh as he stands right behind you, reaching down to open the door. "Oh fuck." you whisper as the ice hits you immediately. It was snowing. And hard.

"Looks like you wouldn't be getting that bus tonight anyway." he says, pursing his lips, hand on your back as you make your way out the warm, sepia-toned confines of his bar and out into the crisp, cold biting air of the cool-toned night.

You make it a few steps before you slip, which for the state of the sidewalk, was not something that was to blame on your sobriety.

"Ya gotta be careful there babe." he says, catching you for the second time that night in his over sized hands, feeling their grip past the layers you wore.

"That isn't from being drunk, I promise. There's ice." you whine with wide, honest eyes looking up into his.

"I'm inclined to believe you." he says with another warm, whiskey toned softly spoken words.

"Wait. Can you drive? Are you drunk?" you suddenly recall. He laughs and puts a hand around your elbow, the other around your waist as you head down the sidewalk slowly.

"I am not." he says with a reassuring smile. "Takes a bit more to get me drunk than it does a little thing like you." he explains, no teasing in his voice. You suppose to him, everyone was little in comparison so you take no offense. ----- The weather's worse by the time he pulls into the small driveway you're extremely lucky to have in this part of town. The usual 20ish minute drive you'd promised had turned into almost an hour. You felt bad about him doing this. But then again you weren't used to the level of attention and thoughtfulness he seemed to naturally exude. He did drive slow but an untreated road no matter the speed was an obstacle in an of itself, even in a four-wheel drive.

"You...uhhh..." you start, your hand on the handle of the door of the truck. You purse your lips, brow furrowed as you force your eyes to meet him. "It's really shitty outside, do you want to come in for some coffee or tea or something before you try to get out in this?" your tone isn't suggestive, and he never took it that way.

"I-uh..." he begins the same as you. He didn't want you to think that him going inside had been part of this plan originally. Didn't want you to think he was that kind of guy. But you weren't being seductive, your face reading as more concerned than anything. "Yeah." he nods. "At least wait to see if the salt trucks start running through anytime soon." he says, corner of his mouth pulled back.

"Alright. Good." you say, a half smile at him before you move to hop out of the truck. You're taking your time making your way up the walk as he comes up behind you, hand hovering behind you just in case. You dig into your pockets inside your jacket.

You switch a lamp on in a narrow hallway, he takes in the hardwood floors, a colorful long rug lays down the hallway that leads to a darkened archway. You throw your keys on a hook, taking off your layers. "Lock the door behind you please," you say, toeing off your boots. "Hang that cool ass coat up before I try to steal it." you say with a pleasant smile.

"Oh thanks." he says with a proud little grin, following instructions.

You lean across a doorway, slapping a wall and hitting a switch, multiple lamps come on in the living room. "Go ahead and make yourself comfy." you say, moving your face back to him before turning to walk down the hall. "And don't mind Robert, he won't bother you."

"Robert?" he asks, eyes looking over the aesthetically pleasing room, walls decorated in paintings, framed records, and hanging guitars. You were getting more and more appealing the longer he stayed around which enticed him to see where the night would go. He opens his phone to the weather, to see just how bad it's supposed to get.

"Yeah my cat." you call from the kitchen. A light switches on, another doorway illuminated to him as he looks up to see you moving around an exposed brick and steel filled kitchen.

"You named your cat Robert?" he laughs, looking up, his eyes landing on a small bookcase, filled with vinyl. His lips form an excited O as he moves and kneels in front of the records.

"Yeah, he's a little weird. He likes to sit in the flower pot in the window all and do nothing like a plant." you explain, he hears a tap turn on, a fridge open and close.

"So you named him Robert?" he asks with a questioning laugh.

Your head appears are the corner. "Yeah. Robert Plant." you say with a straight face as his head tilts with an exasperated expression of 'really?' at you. A huge smart assed grin appears on your face.

"Clever girl." he says, looking back to the shelves.

"I'm starving Declan, you want something?" your hand rests on your rounded out hip.

"What ya got?" he asks, raising and moving to lean in the doorway as you stand before an open fridge.

"Well. I was thinking some grilled cheese and bacon or something."

"Fuck yes." he says in a drawn-out deep way that makes you immediately turn and laugh at him.

"My sentiments exactly." you say, moving to retrieve the ingredients and plant yourself in front of the stove. He's planted himself in front of the records, you hear noises of approval so you think his review of your taste will be good.

"Oh hey little man!" you hear him exclaim. Robert must've decided to appear. You hear the familiar meow. "Oh you're a cute, big-eyed thing aren't you?" you hear him coo, the sweet tone making you smile. Robert did have a bit of a mushed face, bless him, with big orange eyes that were a touch too googly for his fluffy calico body, but you loved him just the same. "What a funky little dude." you hear him praise the meowing ball of fluff. You laugh out loud at the comment.

"No one wanted to adopt him because he is a little disproportioned, the poor baby." you explain. "But I saw him and his scruffy little face and I just fell in love with him."

He smiles contently at the cat, your words just giving him more reason to like you, you were a low key sweetheart, he could tell that much in all the...six or so hours he'd known you. How was it only that much time? You felt like old friends already. The cat quickly loses interest and goes towards the delicious smell coming from the kitchen. He moves back to inspecting your musical compatibility, you were doing very well so far. Rock and Roll in general, a touch of harder, a touch of softer. Good bit of Motown and disco, some newer looking records that he didn't know of and this intrigued him.

You walk into the room, a plate in each hand, each holding two grilled cheese sandwiches, multicolored cheese and bacon chunks oozing out the side. "C'mon." you motion your head towards the couch.

"I knew that smell was making my mouth water but they look even better than they smell somehow." he says, licking his lips at the sight. So he was motivated by food it seemed, and who could blame him. It wasn't like you learned how to cook because you hated food.

You set yours down on the coffee table before retreating into the kitchen and returning with bottled water, two cups, and a small teapot. You pour him a cup, your hands steady as the liquid steamed.

"They could taste like shit." you say with a straight face and he laughs, taking the plate from you as you sit cross-legged on the sofa next to him.

"There's no way in hell." he says, both hands on the sandwich already. You place the plate in your lap and move to take a bite. You both moan on contact.

"Fuck." you groan.

"Shit." he exclaims. "Bell, these are amazing." he says, another bite taken before the first is even swallowed. You can't help but feel proud. When the only other person you cook for, your friend Charlotte, is super picky it's harder to enjoy cooking because you so rarely got an enthusiastic reaction like his was without any coaxing.

"Thanks." you say after swallowing, not inhaling yours in the same manner, you sip your tea and watch him happily devour the plate of food quickly. You aren't even finished with your first sandwich and you give him a closed mouth, happy smile.

"These representative of your taste in music?" he asks, cutting the silence, hand motioning towards the bookcase.

"Oh yeah. I mean, I usually just listen to one of the music apps but I'm still a sucker for vinyl for things I really like." you nod in explanation. "Also just stuff I find at flea markets that strikes me as interesting, so it's a mixed bag. I just like some of the old album art."

"Oh yeah I get that." he says with a nod, eyes moving to the walls. "Like these?" he asks, the framed series of records on the wall to your right.

"Yeah, except that one." you point to one in the corner. "That's the first one I ever played on that we did at the studio."

"Guitar I'm assuming?" he nods to the two hanging on the wall, one a worn acoustic and one a matte black axe. What an interesting combination, he thought.

"Assuming right." you say after chewing another bite. "I went through a real big 80's metal phase and bought the axe on a whim." you chuckle while you chew.

"Looks cool as hell." he says with an impressed pursing of his lips.

"Agreed." you grin smugly before sipping your tea.

"You get to play a lot on the stuff you record down there?" he's leaned back on the couch now, phone left on the coffee table by yours, eyes intently watching you.

"Sometimes. I do rhythm and the technical aspects the most. But on that one I had to stand in for their guitarist after he got in a fight and broke some fingers...so I stepped in." you elaborate, finishing off your sandwiches.

"That sounds really cool. Seriously." he gives an enthusiastic series of nods.

"Well I think being a bar owner sounds cool." you say with a shrug.

"Sometimes." he says with a nod, withholding his usual enthusiasm so you change the subject.

"What's the verdict on the weather?" you ask, taking the plates to the kitchen.

"Mmmm..." he hums, looking it up on his phone, you walk from the kitchen, switching off the light and moving to the big window in the living room.

By the noise you make he knows the verdict of your judgment on the aggression of the storm to not be favorable. "I'm afraid it's not good, dude." you say, still looking out the window and shaking your head.

"This says much the same." he grumbles, raising to stand behind you and get a look himself. The roads still untouched, his truck already covered in a layer of snow.

"Uhhh...Declan?" you say hesitantly.

"Yeah Bells?" he asks, you both look to each other.

"You're gonna have to stay. You realize that right?" the corner of mouth draws up in thought.

"Is that..." he starts, pausing to shift his eyes for a moment. "Is that okay?" he hesitantly asks. "I don't want you to think that's what this was about."

"Don’t worry, we're on the same page. I didn't want you to think I was getting fresh with you. You're just...you're nice and I don't want you putting yourself in danger in this." you admit.

"Well aren't you sweet." he smiles down at you.

"Eh. Wait till you deal with me in the morning and then see if you want to say that." you laugh, shutting the curtains. "I'm gonna grab some blankets." you say, moving into the closed door off a small hallway near the corner of the living room.

You appear again, a stack of comforters and pillows that tower over your head. As soon as he see's you with them he moves to take them from you.

"Couch is a pull-out, by the way. No way your tall ass is gonna be comfy otherwise." you laugh as you move pillows.

"You don't have to move stuff on my account." he hurriedly says, setting down the pillows into an empty chair.

"Hush, you brought me home and didn't have to, I can move some metal a few feet for you," you say with the shake of your head. "You can pull the coffee table over there though." you point to the far side of the room.

So you've got it all out, blankets, pillows, space heater, all boxes checked.

"Alright. Remotes are there if you can't sleep, phone chargers on the side table, get whatever you want out of the kitchen. I'm the door on the left if you need me." you motion to the dark wooden door in the small hallway he'd seen you retreat to earlier. "You good?" you inquire, eyebrows high at him.

"More than, sweetheart, you talk about me being nice." he says with a smirk.

"Like I said. Just wait." you nod and chuckle. You move to switch off the lights, the glow of the space heater now the main source of illumination. "Night Declan." you lilt as you round the corner.

"Night Bella." he says in a soft, sweet tone that you let make your face form into a girlish smile since he can no longer see it.

CHAPTER 2

#Declan Harp #Jason Momoa #Frontier #Frontier fan fiction #Frontier fic #Frontier fanfic #Frontier AU #Frontier Modern AU #Frontier fan fic #declan harp x reader #Declan Harp x ofc #declan harp fluff #declan harp fic #declan harp fan fiction #declan harp fanfic #declan harp fan fic #Frontier fandom

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nyctolovian · 6 years

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A/N: Alright! It’s out!!! It’s my first long-ish fic and I have a lot planned! I really hope this works out well... Also, this became a prompt fill for the Free Space of @voltronbingo cos what a waste it’d be if I didn’t take smth that’s free? I guess???

And it’s Klance again cos i have no self control.

Shout out to @oorubixoo, lunaslovelies and @goodandhorrid for helping me to beta-read this chapter!! Also, thanks to those who have liked and reblogged my beta request post :")

Summary: Lance stumbles into the Galran druids’ laboratory and uncovers their experiments and monsters. He barely makes it out with his life - and, unknowingly, with another tangled with it. Now, he has to learn to live with a new permanent resident.

Warning: Graphic depictions of violence

Lance glanced behind as he ran. The druids approached, sweeping through the corridor like dark ghosts.

His legs burned, and his lungs felt like they were going to collapse. He could hear his blood rush and his heart pound. "How much more can I run?" Lance thought as he skidded round a bend.

“Oh, nonono!”

A solid-looking door loomed at the end of the hallway. It was a dead end.

Lance just had to drop his quiznak-ing bayard, didn’t he? How the hell was he going to defend himself now?

Maybe he could break the door down.

This had better work.

He squeezed his eyes shut in prayer. With all his might, he slammed into the door. It refused to budge. He let out a groan and shoved at it again.

Panic blurred his vision.

Lance punched the buttons at random with shaky hands. “Come on. Come on,” he whimpered through clenched teeth.

He flinched when the alarms blared, and flashing lights bathed the corridor in red.

He jammed his finger at the buttons again. The alarm rang through the corridors a second time. He let out a frustrated yell and kicked the door.

Lance glimpsed over his shoulder to see a druid hand reach over. A blast hit his shoulder, and he crumpled to the floor with a yell.

Strengthless, Lance lay on his side as the druids approached. His vision went dark as he slowly lost consciousness.

But his hearing was the last to fade.

“Voltron cannot be formed anymore, but surely Haggar wouldn’t mind having a new test subject for Project Kuron.”

Just a few hours ago, the team had been gathered at the bridge to go over the plan to infiltrate a small Galra base. This mission could reveal major routes used by the Galra Empire while harvesting quintessence and possibly other important information. It was a relatively simple mission, hopefully with no fights involved, but it was going to be rather long.

Lance had originally been excited for the mission. Now, it sounded like a chore. It was definitely a form of torture to squish yourself in one tiny spot for almost an hour, wait for a signal from Pidge, and press a single stupid button — even if Shiro had insisted that he could spend it “finding inner peace in the silence”. Lance wondered if the Shiro, whom they had picked up from the space pod, had swapped souls with Oogway during the months he was MIA or something.

He slumped in his seat as he listened to the instructions that were handed out to everyone else. At some point, he nearly slid off the chair, earning himself a glare from Allura, so he straightened up a little more.

By the time the meeting was ending, he had realised many small things. Like how Pidge alternated between shaking her left and her right leg, and how Hunk had a small smudge of green on his shirt (food goo?), and how the mice seemed to be playing hide and seek, and how Keith had way too much white hair for a guy his age (must be stressful being the new black paladin), and how–

Beep! Beep!

Everyone straightened up at the sound. It was an unknown signal. The team exchanged uneasy looks.

“Pidge,” Shiro said, “could you go check what the signal is?”

“I’m on it.” Pidge hopped into her seat and went straight to work.

Frowning, Keith crossed his arms. “This better not be a distress signal.”

Hunk raised a finger. “Based on all our previous experiences, I can say that whenever there’s something important, there’ll always be something else coming along to complicate the situation for us.”

“It’s a distress signal!” Pidge announced the moment she decrypted the code.

Keith groaned and Hunk sighed.

“Look what you’ve done now, Keith. You totally jinxed it,” Lance said. That earned him a narrow-eyed stare.

“This is terrible timing.” Allura frowned. “Where is it coming from?” she asked.

“It’s… from this planet,” Pidge mumbled as she pointed at a dot on her screen.

Allura and Coran walked over and peered at the screen. Curious, Lance craned his neck to see where Pidge was pointing to, but Keith shoved his head out of the way.

Keith smirked back, teasing mischief behind his purple eyes.

That bastard!

Lance suppressed his smile with a feigned huff of irritation. However, when he was about to shove back, Shiro clicked his tongue from behind, so Lance slowly lowered his arm. Not without giving Keith a playful elbow though.

Keith scowled at him so Lance stuck his tongue out at him.

“Why, isn’t that Regeunde?” Coran said, stopping their roughhousing. “It’s home to Regeunders, small, mild-mannered, cat-like people.”

“I think it is!” Allura cried. With a wave of her hand, the bridge grew dark and a projected map burst from the centre of the room. The princess effortlessly called out the lights with an elegant sweep of her arm. “There it is!” she said, pointing at one of the larger spheres on the map.

Coran leaned forward. “Ah,” he said. “It is from the opposite direction of the course we’re taking. We can’t go back there and make it to the Galra base on time for the next trading cycle.”

“But we need to help them,” Hunk said, his voice strained. “We can’t leave a planet out there helpless.”

Shiro placed a hand on Hunk’s shoulder. “We’re not going to.”

“What will we do though?” Pidge asked. “We’re only going to arrive at the base just in time for our plan to work. The particle barriers around the base aren't going to be deactivated anytime soon after that. We really can’t spare any time.”

“We will split up,” Allura replied. “We can send two lions to scout the planet and investigate.”

“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Keith muttered. “I don’t think we should split up.”

“Are you saying it’s a trap?” Lance asked.

He did that awkward shrug, with his eyes big and his lips in a small pout. “It could be.”

“It could be a trap,” Pidge agreed. “But it could be a real distress signal. I don’t think we should ignore it.”

Keith pursed his lips and crossed his arms. “Yeah, I know.”

Shiro said, “If anything happens, those checking on Regeunde must immediately call for backup.”

Coran nodded. “As for the infiltration plan, it should still proceed smoothly with three lions. This mission is fairly simple even though it may be rather slow. In case anything goes wrong, you can always count on the good ol’ Castle of Lions for backup.”

“Pidge, we need your stealth for the infiltration mission so you should stay on our current mission,” said Shiro, to whom Pidge gave a firm nod.

“If no one minds, can I go scout the planet?” Hunk asked.

“If Hunk’s going, can I go too?” Lance said. “Meeting cat people sounds way better than collecting data from some rusty old port.”

Shiro thought for a while before replying, “Why not?”

With a satisfied grin, Lance threw an arm over Hunk’s shoulder. Hunk lifted a fist, which Lance bumped with his own.

“Be careful though, the two of you,” Coran warned. “We have not contacted Regeunde since the rise of the Galra Empire. A lot may have changed.”

Lance woke up with a severe headache. He opened his eyes. The room was grey and empty, and it smelled like cement but with a more metal-like quality to it. There was only a single metal door and a small air vent the size of his palm at the top of the ceiling. There weren’t even any windows.

On his back, hands bound in front of him, Lance felt panic rise to his throat. Clumsily, he pushed himself upright. He winced. There was a dull ache in his shoulder. Was that from running into the huge door just now? Or was it the druid’s attack?

“Hunk?” he yelled when he was upright. “Hunk, buddy? You out there?”

In the silence, Lance could hear his own raspy breathing. He held his breath as he strained his ears to hear any sound, anything that could help him figure out anything at all.

Nervously, he gulped. It was quiet, save for an unnerving bubbling sound some distance away. He released his breath.

Judging from how dry his lips and mouth were, he was out for a pretty long time. Anxiously, he ran his tongue over his lips but they provided little moisture.

After wriggling about for a while, he cleared his throat. “Hunk?” he called again.

He remembered that they were chatting while heading towards the planet, which was just in sight. Mid-conversation, Lance’s vision turned purple and he was sucked backwards. He had glanced back and there it was – a Galran ship. Panicking, he had called for Hunk, but before Hunk could reach him, Lance and Red had been swallowed up by the ship.

Was Hunk alright? The pit of his stomach sank.

Hopefully, the lack of response meant that Hunk wasn’t in the ship. At least he’d be safe and then he could return to the others and call for backup quickly.

What had the druids said? Stop Voltron from forming? What plans did the Galra have?

And recreate what project? Whatever that was, Lance was the new subject of that project. And that didn’t sound in the least bit like good news.

His stomach was twisting and turning. “I can’t take this!” he grumbled.

Pursing his lips, Lance bounced on the balls of his feet, as though that would get rid of the nervousness in his belly. He began to pace around instead. Maybe there was a way out.

Clinging to that hope, he went to a wall and began inspecting it. The walls weren’t even cracked. He kicked it and yelped in pain. He hopped on his other foot as he glared at the wall. It didn’t seem likely that there’d be any secret passage or secret puzzle he could solve to get out. It was nothing like any of the movies Lance had watched, and neither was it anything like the escape rooms he used to play.

But sometimes, escape rooms had secrets that couldn’t be seen at first. Lance steeled himself. He’d always made it out of escape rooms without calling the helpline. Surely he could do it now.

With a huff of determination, Lance set to work. He began with the door and knocked on it a few times. The sound it produced was low. The door was thick and probably sturdy.

He kicked it several times. Yep. Solid. He sighed, crouched down and looked through the gap under the door. Purple light streamed in and there was no movement outside. Was no one guarding this place?

The druids were awfully confident. This cell must be really secure.

He straightened up and dug his fingernails into the edges of the door. He tried pulling it open. However, after his fingers slipped several times, he relented. He didn’t really think it’d budge anyway.

Lance shuffled over to a corner and squinted at it. It was absolutely clean of dust. He pursed his lips in frustration. Finding the cell completely rid of everything, even of dirt, frustrated Lance.

How was he supposed to escape if there were no possible clues or help in this room? How could this place even be this clean? Did the Galra obsessively clean their ships? He huffed in annoyance as he straightened back up.

He moved onto the next wall. The wall stared back at him condescendingly. Frowning, he pressed his unhurt shoulder against it and shoved as hard as he could. All he did was slide his shoes over the smooth, squeaky clean floor.

“Argh!” he yelled and kicked the wall. “An escape room helpline would be real useful right now!”

He flopped to the floor. It didn’t feel like there was a way out. Nothing was giving way! There wasn’t even anything for Lance to work with!

Lance took deep controlled breaths. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” he assured himself. Just like what Mama always said.

He got back on his feet. Maybe the floors had clues. Lance began to inspect the floor. Occasionally, he’d knock on the ground. In hopes the floor would give way, he jumped and landed as heavily as he could on several spots.

“Ok,” he mumbled. “Maybe not the floor then.”

Just as he was about to investigate the third wall, he heard some noises from outside. His eyes widened as he straightened up.

Footsteps. Getting closer and closer. Who are they? Were they here for him?

His breath hitched as his mind raced through every possibility. The most logical one being that they were druids, here to collect their new test subject.

“What is the Kuron Project anyway?” he thought. “What will they do to me?” Lance sure as heck wasn't sticking around to find out.

He pressed his back against the wall next to the door. If there was any way out, launching a surprise attack on his captors and making a run for it might be his best option. He pursed his lips and gulped, forcing himself to breathe evenly, waiting.

The door opened.

“Alright, paladin– Wait, whe–”

Whipping around, Lance set his jaw, and slammed his bound fists into the druid’s abdomen.

When the druid doubled over, Lance charged through the door. As expected, there were more of them.

He dodged a magically-charged blast from one of them. Squaring his shoulders, he body-slammed one of them and broke past the ring of druids. Before they could react, Lance was already bounding down the corridor.

There was a pair of swinging doors at the end of the hallway. He rushed through them and found himself in a black stinky room with rows and rows of bottles. Immediately, the bubbling noise was roaring in his ears. So this was where it came from.

With his arms and body, Lance knocked as many glass bottles down as he could while he tried to escape, shattering everything. He had to awkwardly twist his body so his bound arms could reach the shelves. Eventually, he gave up using his arms and kicked the cupboards down, sending the the bottles crashing into a million pieces. He could only hope this would distract the druids.

Smashing more of them, Lance ran round a corner.

Then, he saw it. A large vessel that looked like a healing pod. This was the source of the loud bubbling noise. But it was what was inside that made his stomach drop.

A creature that was about three metres tall floated in the clear purple fluid of the vessel with breathing tubes inserted in its nostrils. It was alive but not awake, if its moving chest and closed eyes were anything to go by.

Despite its unconscious state, he still couldn’t suppress the shudder that coursed through his body.

Dark green scales coated its skin, but beneath its tough-looking exterior was a large mass of muscle. Its jaws were powerful, made for crushing bones and shredding meat. Lance could imagine its large hands snapping his neck with ease and the razor-sharp teeth, which peeked out behind its thick black lips, ripping apart his flesh. Completing its Godzilla appearance was a tail, long, muscular, and armed with spikes at its end.

This monster was built to slaughter.

He backed away from the vessel, quivering and panting in fear.

His feet slid over something slippery and he looked down at the mess he had created — soft sludge of moist flesh scattered amongst shards of glass. He froze.

That’s when he realised what all those bottles were – hundreds of vessels. All in different sizes for various specimens trapped within.

His guts clenched, and he leapt back. He pressed his back against the wall.

Organs of every shape imaginable and different shades of every colour lay on the floor — a testament to the variety of species in the universe that the druids have experimented on. Glass cut into some, and fluids oozed out, mixing into the liquid preservatives.

It reeked of rotting torturous death. Most were unmoving, dead. But Lance could see movements beneath the sludge of flesh.

Spasming, squirming, writhing.

Alive.

Bile bubbled up his throat and Lance swallowed to keep it down. His gaze travelled to something of a startling blue that rolled to the side of his foot.

An eye.

Lance gagged. His hands flew to his mouth as his empty stomach lurched, unable to expel anything. Spit dribbled into his palm as he leaned away from the mess.

The door burst open. The druids started at the scene before them. Despite their masked faces, Lance saw the exact moment they erupted with fury.

They surged forward.

Dang it. He was shaking like a newborn fawn. And he felt just as defenseless. Stumbling back, he grabbed the closest thing, some rod, and waved it before himself.

One of the druids fired a white blast at him and Lance ducked.

As he did that, another druid rushed forth and he swung the rod at his attacker. When they dodged, Lance’s rod smashed into more bottles at the side. His stomach twisted again at the sight of its contents spilling out.

That moment of weakness was his doom.

A magic blow ripped the rod from his hands. Another hit his stomach while Lance was stumbling to catch the rod with his tied hands.

He fell onto the mess of broken glass and butchered specimens.

Were it not for the cushioning flesh, he might have been knocked out. But the stench slammed into him like sledgehammer.

He jerked to his side. Eyes closed and watering, he gagged drily.

The druids’ footsteps grew closer.

“Pull yourself together!” he said inwardly as he sat up.

Lance felt faint, but he forced himself to look directly at the druids. Head throbbing and stomach churning, he struggled to pull himself up, his still bound hands fumbling for a hold. Something gave way beneath his finger.

The bubbling noise ceased abruptly. Lance whipped his head and stared at the large pod.

Then, it whirred back to life. Lance’s eyes widened, and even the druids froze. The fluid in the vessel started to drain away as the light above it flashed purple.

Instantly, the druids withdrew from the vessel. That couldn’t be good.

Lance stumbled to his feet, panting. He couldn’t straighten his back. In fact, glass shards were lodged painfully in his back.

The fluid in the vessel was almost fully emptied. That creature was going to be released soon. All the druids were no longer in sight.

There was no way Lance could run like them now. His head was throbbing. His back was searing as though he had just lain on hot tar. His limbs were weak from his numerous failed attempts to puke.

So he did the next best thing. Lance crawled beneath the laboratory table. His limbs could barely even carry him into hiding before he collapsed onto his side. At least, he wasn’t out in the open. But it was still just a last ditch effort.

Alarms blared as the vessel’s door slid open. Dull, wet thumps hit the floor. A low reverberating roar shook the floor and Lance squeezed his eyes shut, shaking. He could feel tears prickling the back of his eyes.

His consciousness slowly slipped away as his worn out body deflated like a balloon. This might be it. And Lance’s body was too wrung out for him to witness the end.

Damn. He was going to die, wasn’t he?

No.

A sudden sharp pain burst through his back. He let out a wail. His eyes were squeezed shut as tears streamed down his face.

The shout from before morphed into a soundless scream as he braced his head, writhing.

His lungs were set aflame. His skin was ripped through from beneath. His skull expanded from the inside out. Every bone was cracking and snapping, and his muscles were pulled apart.

What felt like an electric shock pulsed through him and Lance convulsed violently. His eyes were pulled open by an unknown force.

And they met angry red ones. He felt hot breath against his face.

It found him.

His world crashed to darkness.

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until-theend-oftheline · 6 years

Text

Silver Linings

Pairing: Bucky x Reader, Clint x Reader (friendship)

Warnings: Mention of canon typical torture and violence. Fighting.

Square Filled: Craving their touch

Word Count: 1800ish

A/N: This one is written for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan marvel mayhem challenge. My prompt is bolded in the text: “Life messes us up in so many ways, messes all of us right the hell up”

It also fills one of my squares for @marvelfluffbingo

It is my first time writing Bucky (or any of the characters really) so please judge kindly.

Thanks to the amazing, sweet and my expert on all things marvel @emilyevanston for betaing this for me.

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

Clint and Steve were walking down the halls of the Stark tower as Steve was catching Clint up on their latest mission. Everything had worked out in the end, but that didn’t mean there haven’t been a few kinks along the way. A young Siberian man from the village they had been trying to save from invasion had recognized Bucky as the man that had tortured and killed his parents when he was a boy. He had attacked, before Steve and Bucky had gotten the chance to reason with him, resulting in his death as he was caught in the crossfire between the Avengers and the invaders.

Needless to say, Bucky hadn’t taken it well and honestly Steve was worried about him. He had been quiet all the way back and the instant they had reached the Stark Tower he had disappeared into his room. Steve had breathed a sigh of relief when Y/N had arrived. Bucky had been a different person ever since he met her. Well maybe not different, but more like the Bucky he had once known; the boy he had grown up with. Steve had hoped that her presence would help him somehow, but now that he heard the loud voices carrying from the Bucky’s room and towards the kitchen, he regretted being so stupid. Bucky wasn’t the same. Y/N had never seen him like this before and Steve should have known better. He should have stopped her or at the very least warned her what she was walking into.

It was too late now though as the door to Bucky’s room opened and closed with a loud bang and Y/N stormed right past Clint and Steve without as much as acknowledging their presence.

“Oh boy,” Clint mumbled looking after the fuming woman before his eyes met with Steve’s. “As much as I would love to send you after her, you’d probably have better luck with grumpy down there,” Clint nodded towards Bucky’s room with a smile. Clint turned around and followed Y/N before Steve had a chance to scold him, but Clint still felt the bitchface Steve gave him on the back of his neck. It’s only effect was the smile on Clint’s face widening.

Truth be told Clint has angered his own wife more than once as he brought the baggage of their job home with him. As pissed as she had gotten, her love and affection hadn’t wavered and Clint saw the way Y/N looked at Bucky. He knew hers hadn’t either. She just didn’t understand. She was a nurse and a damn good woman, but their jobs were something else. How could anyone understand what it was like to have someone rob you of yourself? Have you kill for them without hesitation or remorse. The truth was that no one could understand. Not unless they lived it.

Clint took a deep breath as he spotted her in the small park behind the Tower. She was sitting on the grass with her legs pulled up under her as she watched the ebbs and flows of the fountain before her. She didn’t look angry. Just like Clint had expected the expression on her face was one of agony. Bucky’s pain hurt her because she loved him. She had gotten angry because he wouldn’t let her in. He wouldn’t let her help. Clint had seen the same reaction in Laura more than once when they first met. It had taken him years to let her in and even now somethings were still hard for him to share with her. He couldn't imagine what it was like for Bucky. Decades of torture and killing, of course, he was afraid to let her see the darkness.

“Hi? Mind if I sit?” Clint asked, with a small smile as she looked up at him. She didn’t say anything she just shook her head quietly. Clint felt bad for her, just like he did his own wife once in a while. He understood why Bucky tried to push her away even if he was making a mistake. He even knew that was the exact thing Steve was trying to make him see right now. Y/N wasn’t stupid she knew what kind of a man Bucky was and she knew who he had been in the past and who he had been forced to become. She knew all of it and she chose to stay. Clint knew the argument Steve would make because it was the only one Bucky would hear. Y/N had the right to make her own choice. She had the right to decide what she could and could not handle.

“I don’t need your pity,” she mumbled as Clint sat down and he couldn't help but smile.

“Good cause I don’t pity you,” he answered and her head snapped around to look at him in surprise. “You knew he was a mess when you met him and honestly I don’t think you are the kinda woman that wants to fix him either,” Clint gave her a small nudge with his shoulder and earned a smile.

“I’m not. All he has been through made him who he is now. I love who he is,” she answered truthfully before looking back to the rushing water. “I just wish he would let me in sometimes that’s all.”

“He will. In time,” Clint assured her. He couldn't be sure of course but he saw the way Bucky looked at her. He loved her and trusted her. Him redrawing at times didn’t have anything to do with her even if Clint knew Y/N probably didn’t see it like that.

“Y/N even if it wasn’t him some of the memories are still there. All of them are hiding deep down. It was still his hands that kill those people. He saw it all happen powerless to stop it,” Clint explained even if the memories pained him. If they could help Bucky and Y/N maybe they were good for something.

“Clint I’m sorry…” she began but he just shook his head with a sad smile.

“No pity. Not for you. Not for me. Not for Bucky. He’ll pull through. Listen this life messes us up in so many ways, messes all of us right the hell up but we’ll push through. Bucky too. We’ll focus on the silver linings,” Clint sent her a wink giving her hand a squeeze. He couldn’t help but feel relieved when she laughed.

“I’m a silver lining?” she laughed, causing Clint to shrug.

“To Bucky yes. Laura and the kids are mine,” he answered with a grin as he got up offering her his hand. She took it allowing him to pull her back onto her feet. “Just try and be patient with the schmuck,” Clint grinned wrapping his arm around her shoulder, leading her back to the Tower and a hopefully calmer Bucky.

Y/N tensed as they reached the kitchen and Clint sent her a reassuring smile, nudging her towards the hall and Bucky’s room. “It’ll be fine,” he assured her, praying he wasn’t lying.

She took a deep breath before knocking on the door, slowly pushing it open. Her heart broke at the sight that met her. Steve was sitting in one of the chairs, his elbows on his knees leaning against his best friend. Bucky was on the edge of the bed hiding his face in his hands not looking up until Steve greeted her.

The shock and pain in Bucky’s eyes, when they met hers, took her breath away. A part of him would always fear to lose her each time she walked out of his sight, but today he had been sure he had.

“Hi Y/N. I’ll give you two some privacy,” Steve stood up giving Bucky’s shoulder a squeeze and Y/N a grateful smile before pushing past her out the door.

“Y/N. I’m sorry I didn't mean to yell at you like that,” Bucky spoke the second Steve closed the door behind him. He didn’t move though. He sat completely frozen as if he was afraid the slightest movement would spook her. Y/N felt as if a knife was pushed through her chest. She hated he still thought she could be scared of him. She never had been and she never would be. She knew that telling him that wouldn't make a difference, not right now at least. She didn't run away because he had scared her. She ran because she was angry and hurt he wouldn't let her help him. That he wouldn’t let her even touch him when all she had needed was to feel his warmth, assuring them both he was home.

“It’s fine. Couples fight,” Y/N answered quietly as she crossed the room to sit down next to him. They didn't look at each other, as they sat in silence. His right side was pressed against her left and their eyes fixated on their hands slowly edging closer to each other. They gently started to intertwine and not until they were, did Bucky look at her. His courage fueled her and she looked up to met his gaze.

“I can’t talk about this with you doll. I’m sorry. You’re…” Bucky paused not knowing how to explain it but Y/N just smiled.

“Your silver lining,” she grinned and Bucky raised his eyebrows in confusion.

“You’re my what?” he chuckled lightly squeezing her hand and Y/N pulled a face at him, before looking down at her feet almost shyly.

“Can you do something for me?” she asked. Her voice so low it was barely audible and Bucky’s smile fell. He hated seeing her hurting or sad, especially over him.

“Anything doll. Anything,” he instantly assured her and her eyes met his again. Still looking nervous, she chewed her lip and Bucky wanted to lean in and kiss her to make her stop.

“Hold me?” she asked quietly, making Bucky smile. It had been all he had wanted to do from the moment she walked through the door. He had been so incredibly stupid, pushing her away when he needed her the most.

“C'mere darling,” Bucky laid back on the bed gently pulling her into his arms. He relaxed, closing his eyes as he felt her fingers tender patterns in his chest. She was right. She was his silver lining and just one moment like this with her was worth all the pain he had gone through to get to this day in time.

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