#jesus fucking christ ITS FINE it's fine it's just a lot. not a problem though
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Zelda
She/her, 65 moons, cis molly
#Zelda (cat)#<- so it doesn't go in the fandom tags of the game lmao#Loner#honeyclan#<- the save file she's from. I'm gonna say she lives nearest to them#warrior cats oc#warriors oc#kiri’s clangen#clangen#She also doesn't have the chest spot on her sprite but I thought she looked better with it so. Y'know#I made her fur so massive but I need it to be known that the rest of her is massive as well. She's jut very large#also I HAVE RETURNED TO THIS BLOG!!! Can't say how regular activity here will be but I'm queueing this on thursday to go up on friday#and I've got three more finished cats to go up the three days after that. We'll see how many more I draw before the queue runs out#I'm doing hermit-a-day-may over on my main blog and I'm coming up on the end of the schoolyear so I may be mostly swamped until summerish#but I'd like to pick back up with posting these during the summer. I have some ideas for a comic that I'd like to do but I haven't written-#-it out yet becuase I want to get these designs done first and I think I'm about halfway through all the cats I have? across 5 different-#-clans two of which are very large so. Mass extinction events will be on once I start playing moons again!!#anyways sorry for rambling but I'm very proud of my next few designs. I think I've found a good method for doing them quickly. It involves-#-using actual reference images for the poses lmao#EDIT I lied I'm not even close to halfway#I've got 66 out of 181 done meaning I have 115 left#jesus fucking christ ITS FINE it's fine it's just a lot. not a problem though#I can pick up the pace after this next month or two#it's chill
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Now I'm curious to know all the "candies" between Nick and Tay 👀 lol I don't ship them but I also find it interesting that some fans really ship real people together and gather evidence or proof of it. If its fine with you to share it pls do 🙏 but if not its also fine :)
Huh...
Actually, sure! I kinda wanted to share some of these at times but again I understand that rps is a complicated subject.
A couple of quick prefaces though:
1, If you’re uncomfortable with the subject, again, please don’t read under the post
2, I don’t have all the candies because I really just view them in passing, so I’m just gonna write/translate the ones I’ve seen, remember and find at least a logical speculation
3, I need to reiterate this in case my position in this gets misunderstood: Me writing about “candies” isn’t because these are MY opinion or things *I* found or *I* believe in them being evidence. I am just a translator and messenger.
4, (this one is gonna sound a little academic lol) Two things I realized when thinking about this “candy eating” culture is that Chinese people have a very difference understanding of platonic/romantic affection/relationships with the Western world, and that they look at the candies with rose-tinted glass. Chinese/Asian people are generally a lot less affectionate with their personal relationships, for example friends wouldn’t say “love you” to each other if they’re just friends, nor would they expand their friend group to the others easily or other stuff. And these people who look for candy go into their “investigation” already with the belief that “they are together”, everything remotely resembling a close relationship will automatically be interpreted as romantic. I thought about it a lot, and honestly among the “candies” I’ve seen, most of them are a matter of interpretation: yes those are things couples will do, but it wouldn’t be weird if friends did it too. So they’re not that seriously or up for further speculation. There is I think only one “candy” that I can’t quite say the same, which I will explain and elaborate on in this post.
5, Please remember that the people who do this do it in good nature: something I didn’t make clear in my post yesterday, which is on me, is that the fans do want them to be together, but they’re not like… yandere level or something. If they’re just friends the fans won’t be upset or betrayed or anything, they just prefer to see them as romantic. They don’t mean any harm, and they don’t cause any harm because China is physically and digitally too far away for them to actually fuck shit up, and they understand the lines of parasocial relationships: those who met with Taylor during his China trip in December know to, and didn’t bring up this in front of him. They know where to draw the line, and whoever doesn’t and starts becoming a problem gets kicked out of the community. This is meant for fun.
6, Ok Future Meraki here, turns out, there’s a lot to translate, a lot more than I anticipated Jesus Christ and I do want to get this post how within today and make it a reasonable length, so I’m just gonna do two events and the one that I mentioned in 4. If yall want a part 2 let me know.
Ok with that being said, the main event under the cut:
In December they made a whole article about “candies” from December, and to quickly summarise (again noted that all of this is speculation, I didn’t and can’t fact check them, and I’m just a translator) (also this ended up way longer than I anticipated so for photo reference if you can please go to the link of the original article):
Academy Gala:
Nick and Taylor both attended the gala: Since the strike ended up to that point, the two times Nick attends a public event, Taylor’s there too (GQ men of the year and Academy Gala), and for both times he’s wearing Cartier’s Tank Must Watch (remember this watch, I’m gonna elaborate on it later because it is the only candy that even I can’t say it’s a matter of interpretation)
In various pictures of the night’s party that other people took, the boys can be seen together in the background
How the photography worked that night was magazine photographers wandered around the venue and randomly found people to take some relatively candid photos: so people who were walking/sitting/in any way sticking together would be photographed together. So best friends and married couples would be photographed together, which is what happened to Meryl Streep, Greta Gerwig, Saoirse Ronan, and Christopher Nolan, Cillian Murphy and their wives. With that logic, Taylor and Nick were caught by the photographer together TWICE, in clearly different places. Later Korean fans (with the same “candy-searching” mindset) read the time on Taylor’s watch in the photos: one was 8:30, one was 9:50. The implication is that they were together for at least that period of time (nearly 1.5 hours)
In both photos of the boys together, Nick’s elbow is…straight up leaning into Taylor's chest. In a photo with Kaia, Nick’s friend and co-star from Bottoms (Brittany), there’s visible space between Nick and Kaia but none between Nick and Taylor (… okay I’m gonna pop in with my own opinion on the latter one real quick: I really think that one is just Nick being a gentleman)
During that night, Taylor re-posted an Instagram post from July onto Little Red Book: but the things is in the comment section of the original Instagram post, Taylor teasingly pretends to not know Nick; and according to the posting time and the time calculated in 3, Nick would have been watching him post that to Little Red Book.
Nick got a photo with Taylor’s friend Jay Ellis (Jay and Taylor follow each other on Instagram, and Taylor comments under Jay’s post), even though Nick and Jay don’t seem to have any direct connections. Kaia and Taylor started following each other on Instagram after the event.
While other people who got photos with Taylor posted them, in Taylor’s Instagram Post for the night: He only included his photo with Nick, the rest are all solo portraits of himself. Not only that: he edited the background of the photo so it’s just them, and proceeded to put the photo in the middle of the post.
a bunch of Taylor's good friends, including Taylor’s cousin went to like Nick’s post for the academy gala night. Taylor’s sister Ash shared Taylor’s post to her stories: 2 photos of Taylor himself, and the one photo of Taylor and Nick. Taylor mentioned in a past interview if he had any emotional or relationship (I don’t know which one is the right translation, the original wording is 感情) issues, he would talk to Ash. (please note that I didn’t not and don’t know how to fact-check any of the things mentioned above except for Ash’s Instagram)
Conclusion/ Speculation (okay the academy gala part alone took me 40 minutes what the fuck): I cannot reiterate this enough: THIS IS JUST SPECULATION DO NOT TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY but under the assumption that Taylor and Nick are a thing, the serious of shenanigans that happened that night, especially with the family and friends stuff in 6,7,8, was interpreted as they announcing it to their personal social circle. AGAIN THIS IS SPECUALTION DON’T TAKE THIS SERIOSULY
Taylor’s China Trip
On 7th December, Taylor had a photo shoot at the GQ gala venue, but spent the rest of the afternoon taking photos and signing things for fans. Among those, one was the photo of him and Nick from the academy gala just three days ago. He was visibly extra happy and showed off the photo to the crowd, unlike the other photos which he simply gets it, signs it, and then gives it back.
This day was also the start of “Taylor giving Nick/Henry a moustache”: throughout the trip, he drew on four photos of the two of them
(This one is a … really big stretch) among the four, one of them was the GQ magazine shoot, and he first drew the moustache on Nick’s face, giggling “I’ll sign on Nick’s face”, signed his own signature, then just when he was about to give the magazine back he suddenly changed his mind and said “wait wait I wanna do something on my face”, and then drew a crown on his head while muttering “crown prince”. And the thing is… historically, George Villers had a moustache. And then he drew a moustache on Nick and a crown on himself. Also, one of the most popular Chinese RWRB fic on AO3 is called “The King’s Palace”, and the premise is putting Henry in George place as the social climber and the Duke of Buckingham (it is literally George’s character with blonde hair and a different name), and Alex as the crown prince who ascended to the throne and is also utterly infatuated with Henry. So… yeah.
When he drew the fourth photo, which was the piano scene, the fan who asked said “Oh you’re so nice to Nick!” and according to their description (there’s no video), Taylor blushed a little and said “yeaahhhhh” with a big grin
While Taylor was in China people were stirring shit up on Twitter about him, and during the Twitter drama, Nick liked Taylor’s Academy Gala post.
The boys liked the same video on Instagram but from different accounts (a video about a pony in the snow)
During the trip, Taylor was seen wearing a white button-up with blue stripes. Nick has been seen wearing a shirt that looks identical before.
Cartier Watch (aka the one that makes me do a double take)
Taylor used to wear a lot of Cartier watches until he started wearing Tagheuer last July due to a commercial partnership
Nick likes wearing Omega watches. In fact, Henry’s watch in the movie is Nick’s own omega watch. He also has a commercial partnership with Omega.
But then starting last year, both of them were seen wearing matching Cartier’s Tank Must Watches (the silver on with a black surface and a sapphire crown): Taylor can be seen wearing it in the 5th photos of his September post, while Nick can be seen wearing it during the GQ gala, the Academy Gala, in Milan during fan interactions, and last weekend in his TIOY co-star’s Instagram story.
And the thing about this watch is (and here is where I need to reiterate that I’m just translating, I didn’t fact check this) 1, watch is a typical thing to give a lover, and you must be familiar with their wrist size 2, Cartier is a pretty romantic brand 3, the price of this watch is closer to what Taylor’s used to wearing but much cheaper than Omega 4, This specific watch is a popular watch to give a partner/lover, 5, David and Victoria Beckham’s relationship was discovered because paparazzi saw the Cartier watch he gave her and connected dots together
Jesus Christ at this point I should consider getting a part time job in translation
This was fun but this took me so much time, it’s ~2000 words long
Again, all of this was found and speculate for fun, and mean no ill will, and haven’t, and won’t harm the boys, please understand that and don’t take this took seriously. If you find this interesting and want a part two, let me know.
#rwrb#red white and royal blue#rwrb movie#taylor zakhar perez#nicholas galitzine#alex claremont diaz#henry hanover stuart fox#henry fox mountchristen windsor#firstprince#taynick#meraki essay#meraki translates#i genuinely like doing this but they tend to take so much energy out of me#it's fucking 1 30 AM i need to go to sleep#Anon ask#Answered
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Since I had to block a bozo who defends the hate of Russian civilians, (redjaybathood), here is proof of anti-Russian sentiment towards civilians, it's not propaganda and you ain't a tankie for calling it out.
OK, so I have to respond. Firstly, my criticism doesn't mean "I think Putin's behaviour is the right thing."
Let me ask you something. Why don't you lame Chinese civilians for their government? Why don't you call them names? Their leader is also a communist who threatens other countries. Why aren't Chinese civilians considered tankies? Why don't North Korean civilians get treated like they're part of the problem? Cherry picking.
Next, you're literally doing what the OP and many other people are calling out. Hating the civilians for existing and living in a dictatorship.
And since you freaked that I didnt send the links even though you can look it up yourself (meaning you're lazy), fine. Here we go. Now let's see if you try to accuse me of lying. This is the sentiment that lead to the Japanese internment camps which everyone agrees were wrong, but I know people would cheer for Russian ones. There's a LOT of Russia-bashing, believe it or not.
And serious actual hate crimes and attacks. All called "propaganda" by bigots.
That's arson if you don't speak German.
If a foreign minister needs to call you out, it's not propaganda.
NOTE: Dubs being put on hiatus, Russian non politial products like snacks and drinks being removed or given WARNINGS in stores, none of that happens to other "evil" countries like China. Selective outrage? I'd say so. And literal paragraphs about hate from the Wiki page.
All of these are civilians who are being treated like shit on the ASSUMPTION that if you're Russian, you must hate peace. Dictators are not the people. People are brainwashed. You don't have the right to judge the peopleof a dictatorship because they aren't born evil, they're taught to obey the dictator. It happened with Hitler. It happened with Stalin. It happened with Mussolini. It happened with Pol Pot. It happened with Milosevic. It happened with Hirohito. It happens with Xi. It happens with Kim Jong Un. Why is it that when it happens with Putin, and ONLY with Putin, are the civilians suddenly just as problematic as the leader? You can't judge an entire nationality based on a select number of people you've seen who agree (or pretend to agree, as many may not actually agree but pretend. If all you view them as is cowards, but you don't hold the same values to other citizens of dictatorships, you are in fact, a BIGOT and it's not problematic or propaganda or false to say so. I made myself very clear. If you still disagree that's your problem and you are a toxic person. Jesus fucking Christ)
Tell me again how being Russian automatically makes you a bad person and how civilians aren't victims just because they are living in a corrupt country. You judge the entire population based on what fringe nationalists and some brainwashed people say. Blanket statements about an entire nationality or race are NOT okay. Peoplewho criticizes this aren't automatically pro-tyranny. Not that you care or believe that.
As a bonus, let's talk about how America and Canada (my country) used to HATE UKRAINE, and they had Ukrainian internment camps.
Your reaction to this should NOT be "I don't think Ukrainians deserve peace". BOTH RUSSIA AND UKRAINE DESERVE PEACE AND TO BE FREE FROM HATE. THE HATE GOES IN ALL DIRECTIONS. THAT'S THE REASON WAR IS A THING. PUTIN NEEDS TO STOP FIGHTING. PEOPLE NEED TO STOP JUDGING CITIZENS OF A DICTATORSHIP FOR BEING FROM A DICTATORSHIP. THE MORE RUSSIANS THAT CALL OUT PUTIN ANY WAY THEY CAN THE BETTER. ALL OF THESE STATEMENTS CAN AND SHOULD CO-EXIST AND I YOU DON'T THINK SO, YOU ARE PART OF THE PROBLEM. "BUT THEIR LEADER!" "BUT I'M UKRAINIAN" "BUT LISTEN TO WHAT PEOPLE SAY" "SHUT UP TANKIE" "ORC/RUZZIAN AREN'T SLURS THEY'RE TRUE". ARE NOT EXCUSES. The orcs and Ruzzians are Putin and his lackeys, not the people who live in said tyrant's cities. Obviously people should help Ukraine, that's absolutely fine. But people should not do or say anything the people above have said. It's pretty easy to find out of touch comments on Twitter and Quora that blanket the entire population as the same "evil commie tankie orc zombies". People calling out this stuff aren't trying to make a competition of "who has it worse" when in fact war harms EVERYONE.
That's all I can say. Don't like this? Then you should really think.
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Anything For You
Chapter 3
previous chapter || series masterlist
Recently, you and Michelle just moved out of her parents’ place. You grew tired of couch surfing--even though all three family members assured you that they enjoyed your presence--and your girlfriend was heading off to college. The two of you decided it was good timing and decided to rent an apartment. With Michelle’s earnings from her job, some help from her parents, and your sperm donor’s “monthly contributions”, you were able to find a pretty decent living space.
Moving out had its perks. The two of you could make out all you want without the risk of her parents walking in (something that you put on your list of “Reasons to Get an Apartment Together” to convince Michelle), you had more space in general, and, circling back to that first reason, privacy. You could do whatever you liked, whenever you wanted.
Unfortunately, cons always come with the pros.
With your sudden influx of privacy, came a lot more mind wandering. You caught yourself spacing out more as there was no one to pull you out of the clouds. You didn’t know anyone here and weren’t quite fond of the idea of introducing yourself--especially not with Michelle. Speaking of your girlfriend, she spent most of her days either at work or school. Although she had it handled, it was time consuming, and you weren’t spending as much time together as you used to.
You had no problem with it perse. You just missed her.
This time alone practically forced you to reflect on the tragedy that was your life. It made you doubt yourself and your every move. It made you wonder whether you truly deserve anything you had been given. With every step forward, it seemed like you were taking two steps back.
Sleeping had been a nightmare for you recently. Nothing you did seemed to help. Not warm milk, melatonin, counting sheep, meditation--none of it helped. Because of that, you felt shittier than normal. Your head was throbbing, and every little noise seemed to bother you.
You were currently holding the coffee pot over a mug, hoping the caffeine would make you a little less zombie-ish. Your hands shook as you slowly tipped the container and the liquid poured into the cup.
“(Y/n)?”
You let out a hum, sighing frustratedly as your hand jerked, causing you to spill some coffee.
“Can we talk?”
“About what?” you questioned, grabbing a paper towel and trying to wipe up the liquid.
“I think you should go back to therapy.”
You immediately whipped your head up with raised eyebrows to find Michelle staring at you with a defiant look.
“Why do you say that?” you reply defensively, leaning back onto the counter with crossed arms.
“For starters, you’re not sleeping,” she says, pointedly gazing at the cup of coffee. “You’re closing off. The shaking is getting worse-”
“Michelle,” you interrupt her. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“That’s the thing though. It’s not fine! You’re holed up here every day, doing nothing. You don’t tinker, you don’t hack--nothing. Every time I see you doing exercises, I can tell that you’re not at full strength. I hate to say it but your hands are getting weaker! I’m not sure of what’s going on with you but it sure as hell isn’t fine!”
“Look, I don’t wanna go back-”
“But you need to,” she says. “You need to, and you know it. I’ve been trying to communicate with you but it’s like talking to a damn brick wall! When is it enough, (y/n)?”
You don’t know what it was but something in you snapped.
“Jesus Christ, Michelle! It’s none of your damn business! I don’t care what you’ve seen or what you think! I don’t fucking need help and I sure as hell don’t need you hovering over me 24/7!”
There was a moment of silence as the two of you just stared at each other.
MJ took a deep breath and grabbed her jacket off the back of the couch.
“Fuck you.”
As the door slammed behind her, you placed your head in your hands. Or at least you tried to. They were shaking too much for you to do much of anything.
-
Michelle had yet to come home. You knew that by this time, her classes and shift at work would’ve been over.
Maybe your head was right. You were a burden to anyone you ever cared about, and it would be best if they left when they could.
Just as you were about to stand from the couch, you heard the doorknob jiggle. MJ walked in a took a single glance at you before walking to the kitchen. You stared down at your hands, listening as she got a cup of water and some snacks out of the fridge.
You expected her to go back to your bedroom but instead, she took a seat next to you. Only she was all the way on the other end.
The two of you sit in tense silence, you twiddling with your thumbs and Michelle munching on her snack. You knew you’d have to break the ice. You were in the wrong after all.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper quietly. You take a quick glance at her, only to see that she hadn’t even been bothered by what you said at all. “I didn’t mean what I said.”
Another peek tells you that she’s still ignoring you.
With a deep breath, you spill your guts.
“I know I need help…I just…” you trail off. “I don’t wanna need it. I don’t wanna go through it. If I can pretend it never happened and ignore it, I will. I don’t want the bubble I’ve surrounded myself in to burst.”
Finally, the woman beside you let out a sigh and placed her plate on the coffee table. She then scooted closer to you and took one of your hands into hers, preventing you from picking at your fingers.
“I’m not gonna lie and tell you that what you said didn’t hurt. Because it did. All I’ve ever done and wanted to do was make sure you were okay. And for you to say that your health isn’t my business hurt. Because frankly, it is, especially after all these years.” She pauses and takes a breath. “It felt like you’ve been ignoring me all this time. I tell you I’m here for you and want what’s best for you, but you never seem to process that.”
You feel your heart clench at her words and lean your head on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” you say, tears running down your face. “I’ll try to be better.”
She coos and holds you tighter. “That’s not what I meant. I just…wished you cared about yourself as much as I do,” she muttered. “Ignoring the problem will only make it worse. You're gonna get more frustrated and exhausted and I don’t want you to waste away,” she says, her voice cracking at the end.
You had really fucked up and you hadn’t even noticed. This was going to be worse than you thought.
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taglist
@sebastian-vettels @blueposthings @idek-5 @jesuswasnotawhiteman @sirsell @augustvandyne @uselessgay101 @emiliaisdead @evilcr0ne @bunnyweasley23 @atlas-nex @daniphantom1 @korekiyoss @voidsaddiction @yomama010101 @coollemonsaresour @ximaginx @xx-narcissa @yelena-belovas-wife @freyathehuntress
#avengers x reader#marvel x reader#michelle jones x reader#tony stark x daughter!reader#anything for you#black!reader#michelle jones x fem!reader#marvel imagine#avengers imagine
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So i stop flooding peoples dash im gonna just make this a group, the tag is #livechatter
Im rambling about my life because i feel like it
mean in all reality they have saved me from a lot of bad people and bad things i just i dunno if i can belive that every single person i meet is some kind of malicous creature or person with bad intentions...its been years and im outgoing i like people but ive had to cut off most people because the gods told me some shit about them that was scary or my divination read something was up
I just dont know but i dont want to risk it...
But like, how many demons can one person come across and how many just so happen to be bad news for me
3 confirmed and funny thing is one of them actually scarred me both physically and astrally /wild/ one was my childhood friend who had a crush on me and also decided to get into a pact with a demon for ...funzies... but i cant recall if she had the bloodline or not because the last one who was actually super chill was following a family tradition
so yeah when the gods say "hey psst beckys a demon" im gonna be like "well golly gee 3 out of 3 demons the gods told me about were demons i wonder if this person is in a pact with a demon
and typically /usually/ me and demons dont get along, they find my energy tasty ig. Like demons are fine they are but like they just want to eat me usually or theyr mad at me on sight :")
But in any case im gonna belive it, its just...really?? I know im a beacon but seriously? Every person i meet is some mischievous or negative entity. I get out here fae are more common but /everyone?/ really? I dunno man i cant just be running into every non human on the planet both online and irl or if theyr normal theyr just the most shit person you can be to an almost cartoonish extent.
/idk man/
But i stare at my pendulum the one i warded clensed banished shit on and used rituals to invoke a gods name and boom its just "yup this ones no good"
Like...OK??? THEN WHO IS??? And theyll set me up with people and it never goes well like it always falls through because the people i click with just arent good enough??? Or they just all want me dead?
Am i the problem? Like its me or its them and theyr gods like idk idk man im lost im so lost, how can nobody be ok how can so many people just want to hurt me on sight am i seriously that pathetic looking?? Or are they playing some kind of protective roll? Thats kind assuming a lot about them
What are the fucking odds theyd just be over protective
Im kinda whirlling right now because i think i figured it out, Apollo always expressed guilt over the whole imprisonment thing even though that was literally my fault for directly disobeying his very clear instructions for some guy, yeah thats an embaressment ill never live down
Im wondering if Apollo felt bad and now hes just being really harsh on anyone who comes near me, i only wonder this because he had been around for a really long time before he helped me escape my home/cult
But like ive asked others too
In the same pantheon
That was responsible for a lot of fucking trauma
Who like most of them have a reason to be harsh on people
I just wonder what would happen if i asked maybe Zeus instead of literally anyone else besides maybe some of the goddesses.
Oh godsssss i think ive just deadass been asking the wrong people because everyone else is bias and angry at people
Jesus christ i knew it was my fault if i had just thought about it for a second and got my head out of the ground i wouldve seen it
But still i could be wrong so i need to go ask Zeus with my pendulum and see whats going on before i go removing anything...im also wondering what other people have to say about this because im honestly so tired of shutting up about my weird ass life
Pendulum with Zeus:
Is the reason i keep getting a no on my friends because everyone else is bias and angry at people
Yes
Will you give me non bias direct answers if i contact you?
Yes
I get so specific with my questions because if it can only say yes no or maybe i want to narrow it down as much as possible, questions are phrased intuitively or auto written but some times intentional, more gently guided though.
So i figured it out by live journaling basically...nice, ok so this is weird...but when is it ever not hhh
Thats sweet honestly, if it weren't so suffocating...i cant belive this this has taken me literally 3 and a half years to figure out and i just had to talk to Lord Zeus??? Hhhhhhh oh my gods
Going to him more often now honestly
I wouldve never guessed that i think i think too lowly of myself if it took 3 and a half years to realize they care enough to be mad at people who caused me like, irreparable damadge hahaaaa
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Hi 🦝 I followed recently, I really enjoy most of your takes about toh so far, you're able to put into words issues that I also been having with the show for quite a while now (since s2).
My feelings towards toh are mainly (a bit negative) neutral now for many reasons that you mentioned and I would love to find more content creators criticizing it's writing and characters, but I was wondering how do you feel about the show now with all it's flaws? It feels like a wasted potential to me so I have mixed feelings. Can't say I like it or hate it because I have equal reasons for both and I'll probably still think about it after it's finished.
.
Also, hypothetically, do you think a reboot (done right) would solve most of these issues?
So... I am inclined to say that the first season, in isolation, is still probably a 9/10. A just incredibly solid kid’s show with representation, fun characters, neat magic and while some hiccups, it tells its story well and the story of S1 actually is emotionally powerful. The show as a whole so far though is a 7/10, though especially if you don't think about it. It's a 5/10 if you do probably. It has good animation, fine characters that start as good and then... Jesus christ the character 'arcs' of TOH are a fucking mess and the transformations of the show are just a whole topic unto themselves. It doesn't necessarily teach bad morals, besides not being willing to criticize Luz's blatant bad behavior, but also struggles to teach good morals at times, often going for something honestly more complex than many kids are going to pick up on, especially with what is more clearly being said and done straightforwardly.
It also has a plot that is functional but is NOTHING special as far as the fantasy genre goes and is awkwardly told and not just because of the shortening. The lack of follow through on so many elements or having characters actually react to things done to them or around them is awkward and makes you incredibly aware of the hand of the author at all times when it comes to the writing. Worse yet is that what it tries to do cleverly falls apart when questioned in the slightest and has a hard time being followed by the audience because the worldbuilding and rules of the show are honestly established so poorly. So much is changing at all times that you just don't know what to care about or what is true.
BUT the biggest issue with TOH is honestly no one element. No one thing makes the whole thing fall apart... Because the show is fractured from concept. And this fracturing is also why a reboot couldn't ever fix the issues with TOH because there is NO version of TOH that is distinctly it that didn't require 5+ seasons to try and handle its identity crises.
Because it has one. Because it's not one show. It is split straight down the middle between a comedy adventure about found family and coming to terms with reality and a slice of life, school based, drama romance. Literally the only thing genre wise keeping the two together is fantasy and fantasy is a setting, not glue to slap things together with without EXTREME finesse.
And there's no finesse here.
But think about it. How little do King and Eda actually impact any of the Hexide Squad? How often are Willow and Gus actually going on adventures with Luz? How often does Amity contribute to the plot... at all? Hell, you can even look at this with Hunter. When with Luz, he's in adventure mode, with Willow he's in romance mode. And the two are genuinely written differently for that sake.
And it causes a lot of problems with consistency, especially when you have a team of writers who will blatantly disregard or change things in order to... Actually. I can showcase this with one aspect of the world EASILY.
For Eda, being a wild witch is a death sentence. She has been on the run ever since she was a young woman simply because she decided she didn't want to be a part of the system. She has molded her life around being able to keep that freedom and be who she wants to be but she also recognizes (at least in Season 1 before Mama Eda erased Eda's history. Like I said, the arcs are bad in this show) that she can't be as big as she could be or wants to be because of all of this. She will always live in the shadow of society, only 90% of what she wants to be, because the coven system is law and disobeying it is met with death.
Amity treats it like deciding not to go to college. In Reaching Out, she treats not joining a coven like something she can just choose to do and the worst repercussion is that it will mildly disappoint her parents. And everyone else treats it this way too where they just nod along and go "You know what, you're right. That's your choice to make," like it simply means that she is deciding to try to be a creative rather an accountant instead of doing something that will have her be a marked woman for the rest of her life.
Now there's a lot more analysis I could do into Amity's character about this but I want to focus on asking you all to really think about the role of the coven system at times in the series. Luz being allowed to study all tracks. Bump allowing multi-tracking when he's dooming those students to mediocrity in their fields or exile from society.
It's... a mess. And incompatible. And there is no way to reconcile it because it is such a core element of the show but used vitally in two different ways.
And therapy fixes identity crises (I hope it does for me some day), not a reboot.
OH! And thank you so much for the follow and I’m happy you’ve been enjoying the blogs! I’ve been told I’m actually really good in general in giving words to people’s feelings. Comes from a hyper analytical brain mixed with the ability to write well. I’m happy it’s helping you figure it out yourself.
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ask game: 1, 9, 13 please
character everyone gets wrong -
uh oh here we go again. i’ve noticed that cold and/or sharp-tongued characters commonly get misinterpreted as constantly angry or violent like yesod and vergilius. lob corp yesod actively tries to suppress any emotion at all, which includes anger. ruina yesod is a bit more of a bitch to roland just because he has strong opinions that they disagree on, but they get along later. he’s blunt and has a sharp tongue, but not angry all the time. he cares very deeply about the lives of his employees, actually, even though he tries so hard to bury it and look uncaring because he needs to. that’s why he gets so mad if you let them die in lob corp. like if i have to see him mischaracterized as an angry tsundere one more time.
AND DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON VERGILIUS. you don’t have to like him, that’s fine. but “ohhh he’s just mean and violent” YOURE JUST WRONG. HE LOVES HIS FAMILY SO MUCH AND HE LOST FUCKING ALL OF THEM. HE FEELS SO MYCH GUILT ABOUT ORPHANING CHILDREN THAT HE TOOK CARE OF THEM AND TRIES TO REDUCE THE NUMBER OF PEOPLE HE KILLS SHUT UPP SHUTNUP YOU HAVENT READ LEVIATHAN AND IT FUCKING SHOWSSSS
worst part of canon -
this ones hard. i think projmoon handles all of its material pretty well story-wise so i’m gonna go for the gameplay i enjoyed the least. lob corp day 49 jesus CHRIST. having to deal with binah while choosing your pauses sparingly because of hokma. i barely got through it
worst blorbofication -
easily yan and sinclair. maybe hong lu too. yan keeps getting turned into an uwu baby mostly because hes small and feminine-looking and i’ve seen sinclair talked about to death but hes young and emotional so he gets dumbed down too. hong lu we don’t know too much about yet but i really dont think hes just a dumb bimbo hes shown a lot of emotional intelligence so far. is it just me or do male characters with “feminine” traits constantly get babied 🤨
the fanbase has a huge fucking problem with reducing very three dimensional and complex characters to like one or two traits it’s really annoying
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11.27.2022
ITS DONE AHAHAHAA GOD ITS DONE!!
the NUMBER OF TIMES i had to stop and set my laptop down during this writing session just to tell myself OF COURSE THE READING EXPERIENCE IS JUST OKAY. OF COURSE THERE IS NO PACING AND TENSION. THE STORY DOESNT FUCKING EXIST YET and i simply DO NOT HAVE THE SKILLS TO WEAVE IN PACING AND TENSION WHEN I AM DOING A ROUGH DRAFT which is a NORMAL FUCKING EXPERIENCE TO HAVE JESUS CHRIST. LOL!
ok putting the rest under a readmore bc it suddenly occurs to me that these are really fucking long lol sorry guys
WHEW i will say the main thing i learned from this experience is that word count really doesn’t do it for me. having a roughly 250 wordcount expectation each time i sit down is helpful, but reaching a total wordcount is not nearly as much a feeling of accomplishment for me as i expected / as i think “drafting a full arc” might be. but also!!! it is NOT BAD to gently train myself to recognize and accept markers of progress that are not just “a completed and perfect longfic” bc hello i would only get one milestone at the end and would that sustain me? no!!!!!!! lol i accept that i must constantly fight my brain’s tendency toward perfectionism in every aspect of my life but god its annoying in this one
but it’s DONE and somehow with 150 words to go i suddenly sat down and drafted two full scenes??? well. whatever it’ll be useful. i’m remembering why the birthday party scene isn’t part of the first draft and it is because oh my god i sure do try to shove five or six different plot-relevant scenes into the span of what is probably a two hour event lol. WHATEVER IT IS FINE. I WILL MOVE THEM AROUND TO A LESS INSANE ORGANIZATION IN REVISIONS. WHICH I AM NOT AT YET. BC I AM DRAFTING. GOD.
but yeah if i could just GENTLY ENCOURAGE MYSELF TO ACCEPT that the first draft WILL BE ALL OVER THE PLACE PACING-WISE EVEN THOUGH I AM WORKING WITH A PRETTY DETAILED OUTLINE because IT IS A FIRST FUCKING DRAFT AND IT IS ACCOMPLISHING WHAT THE FIRST DRAFT NEEDS TO DO WHICH IS GODDAMN EXIST ONLY. anything else like characterization or coming up with a plot point or figuring out beats of a character arc or identifying a location for something IS ALL FUCKING BONUSES!!! hidey its BONUSES!!!!
godddddddddddddddd. anyway this is like. completely stream of consciousness this is just how i fucking think btw if u were curious. possibly this is also what the experience of talking to me is like but i wouldnt know
ANYWAY this has been exciting. i was kinda fucking going through it irl this month so only ended up writing maybe half the days? but it’s really encouraging to still have hit my wordcount goal and even if i don’t remember anything i wrote, at least to know the writing exists! i can’t revise nothing after all!!!
ok i am CLOSING THE DOC bc i am FORBIDDEN FROM FUCKING WITH IT but i DID read TWO SENTENCES that seemed like genuinely interesting and functional sentences that conveyed events happening! hurrah! what the fuck is even metrics for good writing? who KNOWS! ok no more looking at the doc however i CAN OPEN A NEW DOC for DECEMBER DRAFTING MATERIAL bc this month by month thing seems GENUINELY DOABLE!!!! GENUINELY SO.
WOW what a relief to have figured this out! of course it might not last which is totally fine but like FOR NOW IT SEEMS DOABLE. AND THEN WE WILL SEE!!!
i definitely leaned a lot into just uh, supplying haiji my direct internal dialogue for several of the scenes from today. what is a scene who FUCKING KNOWS i am just calling it a scene WHO KNOWS OK WHATEVER. french scenes if its a new guy its a new scene WHO KNOWS ok! and i definitely have been leaning A LOT into “telling so goddamn much about haiji’s internal state rather than just showing it” bc i have NO IDEA HOW TO FIGURE OUT THAT BALANCE. how is the reader experiencing it i wonder!! IDK BUT I WILL JUST WAIT AND READ IT OVER AND THAT WILL SOLVE MY PROBLEM GRRR genuinely this advice helpfully stops my brain in its tracks so consistently
ok!!!! yes! its done!!! it is done! i will worry about pacing and foreshadowing and consistent motifs and metaphors and imagery and canonical characterization and ALL THAT STUFF LATER which is NORMAL AND FINE bc those are THINGS TO WORRY ABOUT IN REVISION ANYWAY. first draft just needs to EXIST!!!!!!!!!!! AND IT KIND OF DOES!!
i do think i will want to do a few more things: set up a longer doc to collect all this draft material in order as i create it month by month (reminding myself the goal is semi-consistency and NOT setting a really high bar i cannot meet! 7k mercifully seems to have been a good estimate and yes my brain does want to be a stupid gremlin and say i should shoot for 10k but NO once again we are looking for CONSISTENCY which means it needs to be DOABLE WITHOUT RUINING MY LIFE!), i think i want to organize that doc / my draft material in general by “arc” lol whatever that means, and also paste in the rest of the scenes… actually i wonder if a notion doc would be better NO NO NO MORE FUCKING PLATFORMS GODDAMN JUST GSUITE FOR NOW. lol ok so maybe a doc for the “pre-aotake” section, one for “the bit between that and the birthday party” (?? this section is SUPER LOOSE IN MY MIND), one for “birthday party” if only bc that has like seven scenes in it. lol god i wish there was git diff for google docs …… i KNOW i have a few different versions of a couple scenes and it would be really useful if i could stash them somehow next to each other… OK nevermind just ONE DOC to fit everything together, its not long enough to break google docs yet, i don’t need to make arbitrary buckets when i haven’t even looked at the material. i can trust that the buckets WILL COME and become sharper and more clear in my head over time!
IT IS OKAY FOR ME TO BE IN THE TREES AND NOT LOOKING AT THE FOREST RIGHT NOW SO TO SPEAK. THAT IS WHAT DRAFTING FUCKING IS! aaaaargh!!!
ok i actually think next month i want to have 5k as my goal bc holiday obligations PLUS i will be writing for inception secret saito (!!!!) and relearning how my revision process works at a smaller scale so that will take some time. yeah that seems good!!
ok! and YES i feel like i could keep working THIS IS THE PLACE TO STOP. AND ALSO THE FEELING TO STOP ON. i need to practice NOT DIGGING MYSELF INTO A PIT JUST TO FEEL LIKE I “ACCOMPLISHED SOMETHING” there are already things that got done!!! if i end eager to keep working that will possibly carry over into my next session and make everything pleasant and energetic instead of a big fucking drag!!!!
ok GOODBYE this is the longest fucking update in the whole wide world im gonna have to go on desktop to add a read more. if u are still reading here hi mwah i love and appreciate you lets be friends
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harmless (viii)
Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)
Warnings: cursing, protesting, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, gamer (derogatory), smidge of angst
Word count: 3.5k
A/N: listen idk what goes on at construction site and im too sexy to research so we’re going with my version of the world. hello. how are we all doing?
here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333
Previous Part || Series Masterlist
He doesn’t expect to see you on TV.
In jail maybe, for something scandalous and completely unnecessary, but not TV.
But there you are, a sign board waving around furiously in your hand, voice in protest against the demolition of the community centre. You’re flipping the board back and forth to alternate between the messages you’ve scrawled on the cardboard.
You were among a few protesting, but clearly the loudest.
He thinks that maybe he has the weekend off if you’re too busy fighting big corporations. He’d send his support even.
Until he zeroes in on the sign when it flips over, finally reading what it says.
You better get your ass here, sarge
And so he does.
Half the crowd had dipped by the time he arrived. You were there, still the loudest, but he couldn’t help but notice the lack of people as compared to an hour or two ago on TV. He supposed that justice could wait as long as it took to get lunch from the nearest café.
“I can’t stop you from protesting, y’know.” He’s a little wary of approaching your raging self.
“Oh, hey Barnes. You got my message.” You break away for a second to scream a bunch of obscenities at the gigantic glass building before turning to him. “You wouldn’t be able to.”
“What’s your dumb plan then?”
“First of all, it’s not dumb. It’s stupid. Put some respect on my technological genius.” You held up a finger. “Second of all, it’s not here.”
“Where is it?”
“At the construction site.” You point down the road. “Come on.”
Right along the way you stop to chant another slogan. He waves his arm around meekly in support. He did, after all, have to stand up for what was right, but if his publicist saw him here she’d have an aneurysm.
The construction site isn’t very far off. It’s adjacent to the community centre, which he assumes they’re going to tear down to make more space for whatever shitty commercial building was going to take its place.
There are already a few excavators and dozers there but no one to man them since it was lunch time. What garners his attention is the small silver plate that’s on the floor a few feet ahead in the direction you’re walking towards.
“Here.” You stop once it nears. “The plan.”
“Am I supposed to know what this is?” He lightly kicked at it, earning a smack on the arm from you.
“Stop that,” you scolded, “and look at it. It’s not hard to figure out.”
He narrows his eyes. There’s a small u-shaped piece of metal in the middle of the plate. “That’s a magnet.”
“Exactly.” You clapped your hands together in excitement. “The world’s strongest electromagnet.”
He looks around. The only possibly magnetic things are the cranes and excavators around him.
“You’re going to... stop the machines from moving ahead?” he hesitates in his deduction.
“Yep. Can’t tear anything down if they can’t get to it first.”
Bucky looks down.
“Does this thing even work?” He toes at it again. “It’s kinda small.”
“It works beautifully, stop kicking at it, you demon-”
“What happens if I step on it, huh?” He knows this would get on your nerves wonderfully. He raises his leg. “Do I get to go home for the day?”
“You’re such a little shit,” you whine, reaching for your back pocket. “Stop bullying my invention.”
“’m gonna squish it like a bug.” He’s only half kidding about that part. “I’m gonna-”
Before he can finish his sentence something yanks him down hard. His head nearly hits the ground before his right arm shoots out to break his fall.
"Woah there, don't go falling for me as yet.”
“What the fu-” he begins, eyes locking on his metal arm that was pressed flat against the earth.
“I told you it works,” you say smugly. “Try crushing it now, Barnes. If you can even get off the floor.”
He tugs his hand but it’s firmly attached to the thing. No matter how or where he’s applying the effort, his limb refuses to move. He’s stuck.
“Turn it off,” he sighs. “You made your point.”
“No. Stay there.”
“Y/N, shut up and turn this off,” he groans, trying to find a better position rather than chin down on the ground.
“Lay there and rot. You deserve it for underestimating me.” You huff.
“I wasn’t underestimating you, Jesus Christ.” He really was planning to just step on it, but he had complete faith that it worked.
When he doesn’t receive a reply, his gaze follows yours. Suddenly the crane looks a lot closer than it initially did. Awesome.
“Those are moving towards me.” He picks up on the low groan and creak of metal.
“Yeah, they are.” You nod, one hand on your hip, watching them.
He didn’t think that getting crushed under construction equipment would be how his day went.
“Not my problem,” you decide finally after a bout of silence.
Now that simply wouldn’t do.
Death was definitely a problem, but what was more important was that he was going to get a dust allergy from the mud. He could already feel the blocked nose and temperature incoming.
“Are you really going to waste this on me? Don’t you have a demolition to stop?” He manages to twist his body so that he’s lying on his back.
“Good point,” you squint into the distance at the whirring of the heavy machinery. Their owners wouldn’t be happy to find them missing from their original spot. “But I still can’t help you out.”
“You’re willing to sacrifice your-”
“I can’t help you out because I don’t have an off switch. Yet,” you add the last part in a hurry.
“Then when the fuck were you planning to build one?” He sits up, leaning on his elbow. The cranes weren’t a mini object on the horizon now; the closer they got, the faster they were starting to move towards him.
“I don’t know, after they agreed not to take down the building?”
He could just detach his arm and come back for it later he but had no guarantee that you would stop here for the day or that the vibranium could withstand all that pressure.
“You better make a switch right now and get me out of this, I don’t care how.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you grumbled, bending to assess how badly he was stuck. “You know, this thing runs really deep into the earth. It’d take forever to dig back up and then get you back to my lab and then build a switch.”
“How long?” He didn’t have a lot of time, clearly, but even generally he didn’t have the whole day to waste. He had a mission the next day. He had to put the fear of death into some Russians and bring some pirozhki back for Nat.
“I don’t know,” you furrowed your eyebrows. “Too long for my schedule anyway, I have class prep to do.”
“Motherfucke- that thing’s like twenty feet away.” He’s worried about how you don’t look fazed at all when he points at the stupid machine.
He’s about to volunteer to detach his arm when he realises it’s definitely less than twenty feet now. He had a backup just in case. It didn’t move as smoothly, but who could tell the difference when a couple of tons of pressure was aiming for your face, and hell, if he explained his circumstances of the destruction of his arm to T’Challa-
“Okay, fine.” You reach into your backpack to grab something that looked like a wrist watch. It matched the one already around your hand.
You reach over and clasp it around his hand before turning a dial on the side.
“You ready?” you ask, ignoring the large crane that was starting to charge towards you.
“For what?” he replies, looking down at it. He can barely hear you over the sound of the whining of machinery.
“Teleportation, baby.” You send him a big grin before slamming down on his watch.
“Huh-” His voice cuts off immediately.
If there’s anything that can be said about teleportation, it’s that he feels like every atom in his entire body violently splits to float around briefly before suddenly rejoining again.
The ground beneath him feels different, and it takes him a second to realise that he was on the floor of your lair.
“What the fu-”
“Hello,” your voice comes from above him.
“You can teleport.” It’s not difficult for him to look at you now without the sun in his face. His arm is still stuck to the magnet but since the giant rod it was attached to was no longer deep in the ground, he could lift the entire apparatus up relatively easily.
“What, like it’s hard?” You discarded your bag on the floor. “You good? Takes a while to get used to.”
He gives you a grunt in acknowledgement, shaking his arm to see if he had any luck. It didn’t budge.
“Come on, take a seat.” You gesture to a lab chair you’ve pulled up for him on the raised platform at the front of the room. He realises that this is the first time he’s properly seen what’s actually inside your lair.
There are various buttons that do God knows what, drawers and cabinets painted black, several computer screens and gigantic pillars of glass on either side of the set up that encapsulate some green bubbling liquid. There’s a giant television set up against the wall, divided into several screens.
“Whaddya think?” You do a small swoop of your arm to show off the place.
“Gamer,” he says simply, testing his luck.
“What did you just say to me?” you recoil instantly, disgust on your face.
“It’s a gamer set up.” He points a finger at the TV screen. He was told by Shuri to use it as an insult, but he wasn’t exactly sure why. It just felt appropriate.
“Take that back right now.” You raise a finger accusatorially at him.
“No.” He was sticking with it even though he had no idea what exactly the context was.
“Fuck your arm,” you announce, throwing your hands up in surrender.
“Fuck your demolition then,” he replies simply, getting up from his place on the chair to leave with the thing still attached to him.
He takes one step ahead before your voice rings out.
“Sit down, drama queen,” your voice calls from behind him. “God, you’re annoying.”
“You’re infuriating.”
“I’m the best part of your week,” you fire back, ”and also your only way out of this. Now sit down.”
He didn’t even need the second warning, he was already on the chair the first time around.
“I’m not going to build a switch to turn this off. It’d take too long,” you examine the piece of equipment with more gentleness than he was expecting, “I’m going to remove it instead. It’s gonna take a while, so you better get comfortable.”
“I’m not.”
“That’s so sad,” you say without any indication of wanting to help.
He rolls his eyes.
You pull up next to him, welding glasses covering your face and the tool in your hand.
He turns away when you start, making sure his face is not directly within its trajectory.
He makes himself busy by looking around some more. There are details you’ve put into the place, materials that are non-flammable made up most of the architecture. It’s dramatic, sure, but somehow the designs and colours seemed to go together. It did look sinister, he’d give you props for that.
The space was quite big. It occurs to him only then that that’s how you manage to sneak up on him so often in the past. Everything clicked. Fucking teleportation.
“So,” your voice was raised to speak over the noise. “How’s it going?”
He decidedly doesn’t answer. His position is more than enough.
“Right.” You clear your throat.
He takes to counting the tiles on the floor, figuring out how many were there from the raised platform to the wall of the entrance.
“Not how you imagined your day to go, huh?” you continued despite his lack of response. “But some might say it’s a privilege to be spending the day with a cool, mad scie-”
“Are you going to keep talking?” he interrupts, losing his count on the floor.
“Yeah, duh,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You got anything better to do?”
He didn’t.
“What’s it like living with a bunch of superheroes?” You change course. He’s not sure if he’s really allowed to disclose top secret information. “I assume there’s a lot of protein shakes, talcum powder for the chafing-”
Then again, how much damage could you do by knowing that Steve preferred pancakes over waffles?
“It’s quiet,” he says. “Most of the time.”
“Save all your smart talking for the battlefield, huh?”
He doesn’t reply. It’s quiet around the Tower. A lot of their energy goes towards missions and recuperating once they’re back.
“You go on missions a lot?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Boo, you whore,” you say with mock disappointment.
He got that reference.
“What’s your favourite food then?”
He scrunches his eyebrows.
“What?” The welding stops for a second while you look at him. “Don’t tell me that’s classified too.”
It’s not, he’s just never thought about it.
“I don’t know,” he murmurs, “Pasta?”
“Vague, but I’ll take it.”
He used to boil a lot of pasta, from what he could remember of his days in hiding. Cheap and bought in bulk before he saved up enough to buy things like fruits. A lot of the times the amount of sauce he had access to was enough for maybe seasoning, not a whole component on its own.
It’s one of the perks of being a free man in the 21st century he thinks, a steaming bowl of fettuccini drenched in sauce and garlic bread on the side.
“What do you do in your downtime?”
“Nothing.” Well, he considers it to be a pass time and doing nothing is a full time gig. It takes effort to do nothing. He even has days dedicated to doing nothing, as suggested to him by his therapist.
“Really?” You sound a little surprised, although it’s hard to make out when you’re already speaking a lot louder than usual. “No shining your penny collection? No software update for this thing?” You tap at his arm.
There really isn’t anything. Truth be told, he thinks he’s the most boring guy in the Tower. He sticks to himself, has a few succulents that he adores and occasionally watches trashy television. So then why are you so interested in him?
“You’re obsessed with me,” he says pointedly. “Why?”
You give a short laugh. “I think it’s the blue eyes, sarge, they’re really popping today. Gotta say, I’m loving this colour on you. Is it different from the black you wore last week? And from the one from the week before that?”
He looks down at his dark t-shirt and utility pants. He had other clothes but those were reserved for things that were not this.
“Or maybe it’s the grumpiness, I don’t know. I love it when someone shows absolutely no interest in me. Very sexy of you.” Oh jeez, you were going to continue. “Hell, maybe it’s the thighs-”
“Okay,” he interjects, feeling the need to count the tiles more than ever. He equates the heat in his neck from the welding going on beside him.
The loudness of your laughter is clearer than the sound of metal on metal when you tug a large piece of the invention off. Things were moving fast. He could get back home to his Star Trek marathon and forget this day ever happened.
“You know, you’re more interesting than you think,” you pipe up casually.
He doesn’t expect this and therefore he supposes he can’t stop the curiosity from enveloping his face. He hasn’t told you anything about himself, so then the inference you reached came out of nowhere.
Apparently, you take notice of the confusion on his face, even though he can’t see through the giant welding mask, because you let out a chuckle.
“Oh, come on, really? You have no idea?” you ask lightly, pausing to see if he offers anything other than silence. “You’ve come back almost every week even though you know it’s a waste of your time, you always keep your promises and I know for a fact that if you wanted to stop me once and for all, you could have. But you’re not.”
He doesn’t realise you’ve stopped welding until you start again. Good, it gives him an excuse not to have to look at you after that.
Frankly, he’s a little stunned.
You’re not looking at him, he can tell from his peripheral vision. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a small crush on me.”
At that, he’s forced to roll his eyes out of instinct. Thankfully you do know better.
A few screws out later, another piece comes out. You inform him that’s it’s going to get trickier from there since the circuit was a little more intricate, a lot more time than the original few pieces. He can see his Star Trek marathon fade away in the distance.
You ask him a few more questions. Some he answers with silence, others maybe a tidbit here and there.
“How’s dating now compared to the forties?”
“Strange.” He purses his lips in thought. “One guy asked for a gym date. Didn’t know that was a thing.”
“How’d that turn out?” you laugh.
“He didn’t ask for a second one.” His Bumble matches with girls somehow had gone down since he cut his hair, but he’s not too bothered. Not like there was a huge shortage.
He likes cats, thinks the worst merchandise that they make is the stupid baseball card with his face on it, and doesn’t have social media for the sake of his sanity. He’s seen the thirst tweets.
Clearly, he’s revealed his deepest, darkest secrets. Utterly classified material. But he doesn’t know anything about you other than your name, number, address, where you teach, what your hobby is-
“You, uh-” he hesitates, “You got a favourite food?”
Your hands hold still to hover above what they’re working on. You fight back a smile. “Sure do.”
He asks a few more questions. Shuts up when he feels his social battery drain. That’s enough for the next month, he thinks.
The sun’s dipped down beyond the horizon by the time majority of the work is completed. Both of you have taken a few breaks to fight the feeling of stiffness that was creeping into your joints.
You scoff and tell him you’re not planning to poison him when he denies the offer of a soda. He doesn’t deter in his decision.
“How much to go?” He has a mission tomorrow that he’d really like to get some sleep in before. Waking up at 3am to get ready was the worst part of the job.
“Basically done.” You roll your chair back, rotating your shoulder and stretching your fingers. “There’s just this little part that I can’t access from this angle. How good are you at hanging upside down like a bat?”
Fuck it, he sighs to himself, it was almost finished anyway.
Bucky stands up, tilting his neck to the side slightly before pulling at a small latch under his arm, one so tiny that you’d never make out was even there unless you knew it existed. The arm releases from his shoulder with a small click.
He offers it to you, a piece of your magnet still attached to it.
Your eyes are slightly wide. He raises his eyebrows.
You don’t say anything, just accept it and flip it to a position you were comfortable with. It takes only a minute or two for the sound of the last piece hitting the floor to reverberate through the hall.
You give a small cheer. He lets out a tiny exhale in equal parts fatigue and relief.
“So,” you drawl, handing his arm back to him, “you could have just done that the whole time.”
He doesn’t reply, just slides it back onto his shoulder.
“You had the option of leaving your arm here and coming back later to get it.”
He gives it a few shakes, opens and clenches his fist shut a few times to make sure everything is working.
“You wanted to talk to me.”
He gives you a deadpan look. “I was distracting you.”
“Bullshit,” you laugh.
“Believe what you must.” He shrugs, turning around. “My job here is done regardless.”
“Oh, I believe alright,” you call out from behind him as he walks towards the entrance of your lair. “I believe you’re a sneaky bastard, Bucky Barnes.”
He doesn’t stop himself from smiling at the overdramatic gasp you give when he flips you a middle finger. From the metal arm, too.
Next part
#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#mcu fic#bucky fic#bucky barnes fic#bucky fluff#bucky barnes fluff#bucky angst#bucky barnes angst#harmless fic#winter soldier x reader#Winter Soldier#bucky barnes#bucky
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BnHA Chapter 318: On Your Left
Previously on BnHA: The Hawksquad+Lurkers were all “well this sucks” and sat around a bit talking about how maybe they should actually come up with a new plan that is actually good, but then in the end they were like “nah.” Deku was all, “THERE’S SOMETHING INSIDE ME THAT PULLS BENEATH THE SURFACE!! CONSUMING, CONFUSING!! THIS LACK OF SELF CONTROL I FEAR IS NEVERENDING. IT’S HAUNTING HOW I CANT SEEM TO FIND MYSELF AGAIN. MY WALLS ARE CLOSING IN.” Just, literally that whole entire song. All Might was all “Deku you should take care of yourself, try eating a thing,” and Deku was all “BYE, ALL MIGHT,” and just LEFT. He left!!! What the fuck!!!
Today on BnHA: Endeavor is all, “maybe if Deku didn’t listen to All Might he’ll listen to me instead.” Deku is all, “[doesn’t listen to Endeavor]” because, well, yeah. The Vestiges are all, “surprisingly, even we are a little concerned -- maybe you should get some rest, kid.” Deku is all, “((Ò ‸ Ó)).” The Vestiges are all, “holy shit.” Deku is all, “[wanders the ruined city streets terrifying the populace on account of him looking like Shelob had a baby with one of the Nazgul].” Some shriveled-up puppeteer villain asshole is all, “HORIKOSHI SAID IT’S MY TURN TO ATTACK DEKU TODAY SO I AM GOING TO SUMMON MY FRIGHTENED HELPLESS ATTACK MOB!!” Kacchan is all “WHADDYA MEAN THEY FOUND THE NERD!!! -- oh wait, that’s me, I found him. I found the nerd, you guys.” And just in time, too. I was about to owe a whole lot of people a whole lot of dollars.
so I have been super good about spoilers this week as always, but let me tell you guys, for the past 36 hours my dash filters have basically been nonstop “manga spoilers” this and “bnha 318” that, and so I’m coming in with a fair amount of hype here. your move, Horikoshi
oh, good! they got Endeavor to call Deku to try to talk him out of it. what a great and wonderful plan
“listen up kid, you haven’t slept since March and you are basically a walking biohazard right now, I’m just telling it like it is. didn’t you get shot like three times?? and there was a whole thing about how you urgently needed medical attention?? and supposedly we gave it to you, but I mean you haven’t even changed your clothes and don’t seem to have any fresh bandages or anything, so did we?? did we, really?? and also we all got blown up yesterday, so yeah.” hmm he’s making some reasonable points here you guys, but you sure do go on and on, Endeavor
oh he says foreign aid is finally on its way! I’m sure they’ll be very helpful. I mean in fairness they can hardly be worse than the home-grown heroes at this point
hey Enji, could you maybe try appealing to Deku the sixteen-year-old human boy, as opposed to Deku The World’s Last Hope? he does have value beyond his quirk. I know that’s always been an incredibly difficult concept for you to grasp, but could you maybe TRY, jesus
and also we’re worried about you as a person?? you’re just a kid and you’re pushing yourself way too hard?? you were going to say that part next, right. why the hell didn’t Hawks make this call instead
“don’t worry about me... I’m completely fine” Deku you do understand that saying it over and over again doesn’t actually make it true
and again with the rush!! all the rush rush rush!! we’re running out of time, we can’t let AFO and Tomura keep getting stronger, I have to end this now, there’s no time to rest, etc. etc. etc. just the constant pressure of this whole big countdown on top of everything else
holy shit, you KNOW it’s bad when even the Vestiges are telling him to chill
these guys are basically the walking talking embodiments of self-sacrifice; if even they’re telling him he needs to take five, then he must seriously be like half a step away from death’s door
OH SHIT LMAO
DIDN’T EVEN LET HIM FINISH HIS SENTENCE BEFORE HE SENT HIM INTO THE FUCKING SHADOW REALM WITH THAT FUCKING LOOK. HOLY FUCK. DIDN’T EVEN KNOW IT WAS POSSIBLE TO DIE TWICE. SHIT
(ETA: so I’m pretty sure this was just Danger Sense activating and so he cut them off to go do more hero stuff, but I’m gonna go ahead and stick to my original interpretation anyway lol.)
anyway so how’s everybody doing. we all good? En, you good? Banjou? Shino? I’m imagining you guys all curled up in a little ball on the floor right now lol. can’t say I blame you though, no shame
lmaoooooooooooo
“SHEESH.” sheesh indeed, lmao. “what in the FUCK was that”
see, this is why y’all need Kacchan. you need someone who’s not going to back down from him no matter what. if it’s a matter of out-stubborning Midoriya fucking Izuku, then there’s only one other person on the planet capable of that, and we all know it. don’t pretend like you don’t. I am not going to shut up about this! we’ve had our hurt so now what about SOME COMFORT, DAMMIT
“I’m afraid that he’s becoming influenced by my conscience” nah are you kidding Nana this is all 100% made-in-Japan pure original Deku right here
see, Banjou gets it. “that kid, he’s totally going on his own.” exactly. this was so inevitable it was basically scientific law
“well I for one don’t see the problem with Deku being so obsessed with saving everyone else that he pushes himself until his body and soul literally fall apart” okay, whose speech bubbles are these?? we’re about to have words
lol of course
well you always did prefer the direct route didn’t you. but even you can’t possibly think this is okay lol
dark AU!Kacchan please tell us more about your badass doomed timeline in which everything went to shit and you apparently had the same character arc that Deku is having right now except it somehow made you sexier instead of turning you into a rabid t-rex. I have so many questions
oh so now you want to help??? well -- good, actually. sorry if that sounded offended just now lol
(ETA: so at first when I got to the end of this chapter I was wondering if Katsuki B. had somehow summoned his alternate-universe counterpart through trippy OFA space telepathy lol. but in the original Japanese there’s no reference to “we”, so this appears to be a mistranslation. this line should probably read more like “if there’s something/someone out there that would be able to complement/complete the current Midoriya Izuku [it would be]…” which, oh hello, is that Horikoshi once again reaffirming that Deku and Bakugou complete each other lol. “guess what guys, the Vestiges ship it too" heck yeah. they know what’s up!)
look how admiring his boyfriends are. HORIKOSHI GIVE US THE REST OF THIS BACKSTORY ALREADY GODDAMMIT
“meanwhile somewhere in the depths of the ruined city, Deku was having a dance-off with the villains”
I like how the villains all have this “AHH WHAT THE FUCK” kind of body language to them lol. I mean if it were me, and an eldritch horror suddenly clawed its way from the shadows with its writhing glowy tentacles and pants-shitting nuclear death stare, I would probably just die on the spot. no need to stick around. only pain awaits
lol for a minute I thought this was Can’t Ya See-kun and I was like “WHAT A FASCINATING CROSSING OF PATHS” but it’s just some random girl
he seems genuinely confused lol
Deku it’s because you look like something that crawled out of a sewer drain, sweetheart
lol they just took his word for it?
so trusting. even though they’re immediately hauling ass anyway just to be safe lmao
“my appearance is frightening to others” no shit Deku it’s because you look like a fucking alien exorcism. you look like a Lich that got caught up in an oil spill my dude
NO NOT THE CHOSEN ONE ANGST AGAIN
I RAN OUT OF ESSAY JUICE FOR THIS ALREADY HORIKOSHI!! I’VE BEEN TALKING ABOUT IT FOR MONTHS NOW WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG!! BUT ANYWAYS, GOOD!! I MEAN, BAD, THOUGH, OBVIOUSLY. BUT YES
“ENJOY THIS MONTAGE OF DEKU BATTLING A RANDOM KAIJU AND WANDERING THE WOODS LIKE A DERANGED GREEN BABA YAGA” okay yes but sir, exactly how much longer is this going to go on. if it’s a matter of you wanting to make sure we get it, let me assure you that aside from a few stray chuunis who think that Deku embracing the Darkness is the coolest thing he’s ever done, all of us here in fandom fully comprehend that this is Not Good
-- OH SO IT’S LIKE THAT
really. with the flashbacks to his loved ones’ smiling faces and everything. not even gonna try to aim above the belt, huh
AND NO KACCHAN??! NO CLASSMATES?!?! IS HE PURPOSELY NOT THINKING OF THEM??? OR ARE THEY BEING SAVED FOR THE NEXT PAGE??? SO HELP ME, IF THE NEXT PART OF THIS SENTENCE IS “CAN PROTECT THEM”, OR EVEN WORSE, “CAN SEE THEIR SMILING FACES AGAIN”, I...
WHAT DID I JUST SAY
(ETA: my man did Sero and Kaminari fucking dirty lmao. I miss their smiling faces too omg.)
the sheer, unparalleled irony of him saying this while he stands there looking like the gargoyle demon from Fantasia got crossed with an umbrella that got struck by lightning. Deku :(
oi who the fuck is this clown
is he controlling this mob with his evil hair. “what if I made an exhausted, running-on-fumes Deku battle a brainwashed mob at Ground Zero.” Horikoshi do you just have like a checklist of horrible things you want to do to your protagonist
easy there Sasori
well joke’s on you buddy because he’s apparently “completely fine”, so
“here’s to hoping that you know more about AFO’s location than the others” jesus christ Deku you really have hung your mercy out to dry huh
now he’s forcing his mob of terrified prisoners to attack Deku ahhhh. sucks to be them. at least they’re not being controlled by bees
so Deku is saying that Sasori’s control can be broken with “physical trauma.” similar to Shinsou’s quirk I guess. but so does that mean he’s gonna have to hurt them? ( •﹏•)
NO NOT MORE SAD EYES
“DEATH BY EMPATHY!!!” HORIKOSHI NO
fuck. he looks like he’s on the verge of passing out
this is what happens when you nerf a character’s self-preservation stats in favor of spamming their bone-breaking stats instead. NOW ACCEPTING BRAIN CELL DONATIONS FOR A BOY IN NEED!! with your loving generosity we can hopefully help him live to the ripe old age of seventeen
OMGFGGG
YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
[grabs your hands] ლ(*꒪ヮ꒪*)ლ [swings you in a circle] へ(ﾟ◇ﾟへ)
THASSSSSSSS WHATSSSSSSS UPPPPPPPPPP
HORIKOSHI REALLY SAID FUCK THAT MASK (ノ°ο°)ノ YOU FINALLY LEARNED!! IT’S CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT!!!!
JUST FOR YOU KACCHAN, HORIKOSHI LEFT THIS ONE BAD GUY WHO’S STILL WEAK TO FIRE. GOD BLESS
IT’S YOUR COUNTERPART, KATSUKI B!!!! HOW WE DOIN OVER THERE IN THE TRIPPY COSMIC OFA SPACE REALM LOL. DO WE BELIEVE YET, FANDOM???
LIGHTS!!!!
INSTANT RESULTS!!! IT’S SUPER EFFECTIVE!!!
(ETA: imagine what this must look like to Deku though. he’s been caught up in this dark cloud of despair and exhaustion that’s been building up over... I’m gonna go ahead and say “weeks”, because yeah. and now he finds himself here, in the place where All Might’s legacy ended and the torch was passed to him. and the world is in ruins, and he’s surrounded by frightened people who are all trying to hurt him -- because who isn’t trying to hurt him, these days -- and he’s scrambling to figure this all out, but meanwhile the weariness is finally starting to catch up to him, and so he’s basically just standing there in a fog of complete and utter misery.
and then all of a sudden through that haze, he hears the one voice that’s more familiar than any other that he knows. like, I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he thought he was just imagining it at first. Kacchan showing up to save him right when he’s at his most desperate and feeling the most alone. Kacchan, showing up to save him.
this is the person he always looked up to as a child (to be fair he was quite a strange child lmao). the person who was even closer to him than All Might. the person he always thought was amazing. and bam, here he is now. appearing in the sky out of nowhere to one-shot the bad guy with a single blast (which, btw, that was his armor-piercing attack too lmao dslkjlk take it easy there kiddo). like, that must have felt absolutely surreal to him, especially coming at a time when he’s already half-delirious and barely hanging on to reality. he must have really thought that he was losing it there for a second.
but he’s really there. it really is him. and for this brief moment -- before the rest of the situation catches up to him, and he remembers about all of the fucked-up AFO stuff, and remembers why he was so afraid and why he was pushing everyone away -- for just this one brief moment, he’s too exhausted and stunned to do anything except to just react. just stands there, looking up at him in awe.
and you know, it almost reminds me of...
just. you guys. the character development. the freaking character development. someone who brings reassurance. someone who shows up and makes you think, “oh, it’s all going to be okay now, because [person] is here.” the role reversals. the growth. the payoff!! because who is the one person who always had faith that Kacchan would one day grow up to become an amazing hero like that. WHO IS IT. YOU ALREADY KNOW.
omg. anyways, bless you Horikoshi, my feels which have been on backorder since fucking September have finally arrived lmao. yes, good, thank you. worth the wait. it is always, always worth the wait. fuck yeah.)
“LOWFRIES” SO YOU’RE TELLING ME THE WHOLE GANG IS HERE, AHHHHHHHH (º̩̩́⌣º̩̩̀ )
BEAUTIFUL. WONDERFUL. SENSATIONAL. I DON’T EVEN CARE THAT JUMP IS ON BREAK NEXT WEEK. THIS RIGHT HERE WILL SUSTAIN ME
#bnha 318#midoriya izuku#BAKUGOU KATSUKI#!!!!#twowy mctwoface#bnha#boku no hero academia#bnha meta#bakudeku#bnha spoilers#mha spoilers#bnha manga spoilers#makeste reads bnha
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SAMBUCKY BOOKMARKS
it’s fic yeah friday over at @fuckyeahsambucky so i wanna do a lil something something for the fandom :) check out my #fic rec tag for more!
enjoy the more than 50 fics listed here :) be careful of the tags!
I Am Trying to Break Your Heart by Lunar_Pull
Today is the day that Steve received an invitation to the love of his life’s wedding.
Philopatry by Areiton
"I want to be safe," he says. "But I'm not."
"Then why come here? Why put me at risk?"
Something flickers in his eyes, little boy lost and utterly cold, and it makes Sam want to give the dude a hug and also pull his sidearm.
"I have no reason to hurt you," Winter says. "I don't want to hurt you," Bucky adds, earnestly.
farmhouse by Tazmaster
"You know, I think I'd want a farmhouse."
"A what?" Sam turns to look at him, slightly annoyed. This was the first thing Bucky has said in the past hour and a half they've been cramped in this god forsaken car. He had a knack for impulsively voicing his dumb thoughts at the worst times, but whenever you wanted to know what was actually going on in that head of his, he'd never say.
They were staking out the front gate of a large mansion, very much not a farmhouse. It was mind numbingly boring, being stuck in a beetle with absolutely nothing else to do than stare at the gaudy gates of some rich asshole.
"A farmhouse," Bucky repeats nonchalantly, "If we ever get out of this business, or you know, live long enough to retire maybe--- I want a farmhouse. With a lot of animals."
---
Bucky keeps talking about a farmhouse and it drives Sam crazy, that is until he finally asks why.
Employee Discount by bopeep for queenmab_scherzo
Sam Wilson doesn't love working in a store that makes him wear vanity-sized polos and breathe in clouds of men's cologne like the worst kind of GQ aromatherapy, but the view from his cash register across the mall to the Hot Topic and the sullen Dark Prince of Wallet Chains he loves to hate may just beat the minimum wage blues.
In warm water, swimming down by targaryen_melodrama
“Why are you hiding?””Tired.”Bucky raises an eyebrow. “So you decided to swim.”“So I decided to be alone.”Bucky’s quiet for a moment. “I can go, if you want.”It’s the last thing Sam wants.
I figured out what the slashes mean by Teaismycoffee
Sam, Steve and Bucky are all living together in a safe house. Bucky and Sam discover fan fiction written about them. Steve doesn't approve. Sam and Bucky are really into secretly reading fan fiction together, or maybe it isn't the fan fiction part they are really into.
Chicken Soup for the Soul by bioloyg
“S’not my bed time,” Sam says as he buries his face in Bucky’s upper arm.
Bucky laughs. “Tough. You’re sick.”
Sam lets out a loan groan and says, “But my bed is cold. I was so warm, why’d you move me?”
“Because your neck would’ve hated you if I didn’t.” He tries not to be so amused by how fussy Sam is when he’s both sick and half-asleep. It’s cute.
~
A fic wherein Bucky takes care of a sick Sam.
two nights in L.A. by CapnWinghead
Bucky kindly volunteered Sam to be a groomsman for Scott’s upcoming wedding. Of course, that meant Sam and Bucky had to go to the bachelor party.
at the end of the war (what's mine is yours) by notcaycepollard
They don't talk about it: that's how it works.
I'd Like That by honestlydarkprincess
Sam has been up for over 24 hours and has been dreaming about his Coffee Caramel Fudge non-dairy ice cream since about the 18-hour mark. When he gets to the store, there's only one carton of it left and, unfortunately for the guy innocently holding said carton, Sam's not leaving without it.
Or, the one where Sam is sleep deprived, yells at a cute guy, and gets both ice cream and a phone number out of it.
Ready, Set, Date! by bioloyg
Bucky wants to sleep, Natasha wants to find him a date for Steve's wedding (so he'll leave her alone), and Sam is the best thing about this whole speed dating disaster. But, Sam's not in the speed date rotations - he's at a different table weathering through dates just like Bucky is.
~
"Three dates in, Bucky decides he has made one of the worst decisions in all of his life by coming here. His first date had been an attractive enough man by the name of Greg. He introduces himself as “The Big G,” to which Sam laughs at in the middle of introducing himself to his own date. Greg likes to talk about cars a lot, which is fine. Bucky also likes cars. The only problem is that Greg’s love for cars borders on… erotic."
We'll rise up free and easy by Sarsaparilla, woofgender
Steve and Natasha are away on a mission when Sam receives intel about the Winter Soldier’s location. When he follows the lead, Sam finds something unexpected—but despite his initial impression, it’s certainly not all bad. (Post-CATWS, not AOU- or CACW-compliant.)
__________
"'Jesus Christ,' Sam said, 'Are you planning on fighting an entire army?'
Barnes looked up from examining the sights of a sniper rifle. '...no,' he said, a little guiltily, and adjusted one of the--five? Six? guns he’d already strapped to himself."
love is in the air (i smell coffee) by Flora_K, hermionesmydawg
Sam Wilson - graduate student, part-time barista, part-time salesman, and full-time father - doesn't have time to sleep, much less date. At least, that's what he tells himself.
Up at Night by bioloyg for lunaaltare
With Halloween nearing, Sam is feeling more in the mood for a scary movie than usual. He'd never watch one on his own though, so he invites his roommate to pick one out and join in on movie night.
or
Prompt fill for Samtember
~
"It’s quiet for a while after that. Like always, the two of them start on opposite sides of the queen sized bed with at least a foot of space between them. And, like always, they drift closer to one another as time passes, though whether it’s habitual or instinctual Sam would never dare delve into."
flowers in darkness, the moon above the sea by 27dis
Sam enjoyed his job, really.
But, not when a certain person came in.
A quick detour and a sudden arrival by iwillnotbecaged for heuradys
He found Wilson shivering in the snow, left for dead. Sloppy.
You couldn’t trust the elements to do your job for you. They were rarely so obliging.
A mission gone awry, unexpected help, and close quarters makes for an interesting couple of days.
Don't lock the door on me by TuskFM
Sam’s desperately trying to sleep when he gets a visit from the Winter Soldier at three a.m., bleeding and asking for help. Sam’s not the kind of guy who let someone bleed out on his front door, even if the said someone threw him off an helicarrier and stole his wheel.
and i run, further than before by hermionesmydawg
"What do they call you?" Bucky carefully pulls out an equal amount of caramel and cheese kernels of popcorn and pops them into his mouth. "Birdman?"
"No."
"Captain Canary?"
"Hell no."
"The Winged Avenger?"
"Falcon, dammit, and I am not an Avenger," Sam snaps, and now he's kinda pissed because yes, it's a bird name. He didn't sign up for this kind of ridicule from an amnesiac assassin.
***
Basically, the 5 times Sam actually found Bucky and the 1 time he tried to hide from him. Don't tell Steve.
Exquisite Flavor by enchantedlightningwrites for honestlyfrance
W&M's Grand Corner's growing to be one of the popular restaurants in New York, where Sam Wilson works as a chef for his sister. A wedding's in a few weeks and he has no idea on what to do about it. Notorious for his picky taste and blunt reviews, Bucky 'Winter Wolf' Barnes pays a visit. Little did he know, food could really win one's heart and lands on his stomach.
He's a Beta, You Hear That? by 27dis
Reasons why Sam didn’t realize Bucky was courting him this entire time:
1. He is a beta
2. He is oblivious
3. He thought Bucky is way out of his league
4. He is a beta for fuck’s sake
See? It’s hardly his fault for not noticing it. Why was Bucky flirting with him anyw—
Oh. Oh.
Or;
Bucky swore flirting with someone was never this hard before.
stay where we belong by glittercake
He doesn't know what the hell he's doing when he turns around and shouts, "Yo! You know what—" and Barnes turns on his heel in a flash, "It's getting late, man. Looks like rain."
Sam motions to the grey sky above, and Barnes follows his eyes beyond the hanging Willow branches. "Yeah? What are you saying?"
He's got that terribly smug look on his face, the one Sam can't stand but kind of misses when it's not irritating him. But mostly, he can't stand it, "Nothing! Forget about it!"
Arms Spread Out Wide, Turn Falling Into Flight by irisesandlilies
It was easy, nothing has ever been easy for Bucky. Except this, and that terrifies him.
Years in the making by glittercake
Bucky and Sam meet as two young soldiers, but the time is never quite right to make it anything more. Until it eventually is.
or
Sam refuses to let himself fall in love while he's deployed. Bucky pines endlessly for years about the prettiest bird he’s ever seen. Sam’s no better.
If At First You Don't Succeed by SonnyD
Bucky finally gains the courage to tell Sam about his feelings. He comes up with a list of methods to woo him that were bound to succeed. He didn't account for each and every one of them failing in unexpected ways. The five times that Bucky attempts to woo Sam and the one time that Sam returns the favour.
if i could take us back, if i could just do that... by safelikespringtime
Bucky laughed, cheeks flushing red, “I’m glad you didn't. Don't know what I’d do without my wingman.”
Sam groaned, poking Bucky’s side, “That was awful.”
Bucky laughed.
“You couldn’t survive without me. We both know it.”
How right he was.
***
Sam dies. Bucky mourns.
Strawberries and Cigarettes always taste like you by winterscaptsam
There’s a sweet agonizing simplicity in leaving behind your safe haven, like the thrill of adrenaline, reaching the top of Everest, allowed to admire its beautiful icy view but with the everlasting fear of not making it back down. Maybe that's why it was a natural instinct for Bucky to reach out for the closest thing that felt like home, slowly then all at once falling for the sweet warmth of mahogany eyes, what soon became his safe haven.
Baked With Love by Siancore
Bucky Barnes’ family owns a bakery in a small town. High school has long been over, and Bucky is dying to move to the city to pursue a musical career with his band. And his future looks promising, if he can just persuade his father to let him leave his job behind at their struggling family bakery.
It is no secret that Bucky used to love baking with his father, but things change. He just can’t fathom wasting his life away watching rising dough and hot ovens. With his mind made up to leave, Bucky convinces his father to advertise for a replacement. While interviewing candidates to fill the position he has vacated, Bucky meets Sam Wilson: An easy-going guy who is as eager about baking as Bucky is about leaving. They bond over baking and become close. Love looks like it is ready to bloom between them if Bucky, in his haste to escape, does not ruin it.
Beneath this Crown by winterscaptsam
Sam traces his fingers from James’ hairline, down to his jaw, resting the pad of his thumb on James lips. He will let himself relish in this feeling. Not even the sculptors, painters or poets could carve their words and materials to accurately describe this.
“Do you think the history books will remember us?” Sam had once asked. And James’ words were made of the purest of golds, “my love, we will be legends for the children yet to come.”
Or
Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes' love story, one a prince and the other a knight.
make my body come alive (i've got a right to hurt inside) by notcaycepollard
The body is weak. The body is hungry and soft and human. He looks at himself in the mirror, the bones of his shoulders, his cheeks hollowed out from hunger, and he thinks, gentle, you didn’t deserve this.
safe like spring time by quidhitch
“I already told you it looks good. What more is there?”
“I don’t know, man, you’re gonna live here. I just wish I knew a little bit more about how that’s sitting with you.”
Sam knows Bucky feels fine. What Sam’s probably actually after is how he feels about the fact neither of them have anywhere else to go, not with Natasha dead and Steve wrinkly. Therapists. Even the good ones, always so circular.
“I like the terrace,” Bucky offers, mostly to appease him.
Airy Laundry by AmarieMelody
Sam watches what happens when Bucky buys a clothesline.
lucky by CapnWinghead
In retrospect, it took Bucky an embarrassingly long time to realize that everyone and Scott's mom thought he and Sam were dating.
not an end, but (the start of all things) by notcaycepollard
They keep driving, for lack of anything better to do. A mission, Sam had said, and maybe that's true; maybe wherever they're headed is the way out, the way up.
So You Run On Gasoline by 343EnderSpark, ABitNotGoodieBag, OriginalCeenote
Bucky may have bitten off more than he could chew with this job, he thinks, as he ambles along the sidewalk to the cafe after leaving campus. He is running off the fumes of exhaustion and hasn’t had more than 3 hours of uninterrupted sleep in the past week. Between his students and his thesis, he knows that it’s foolish to try so hard to hang on to his barista gig, but DC isn’t a cheap place to live and Bucky can’t live with other people.
Bucky is just trying his best, despite being a human disaster.
we could jump the state lines (we only get the one life) by notcaycepollard
It starts in Paris.
“You can’t steal things just because you like them,” Sam tells Bucky, feeling innately that this is a losing battle, and Bucky cocks his head to the side, considers Sam very thoughtfully.
“Really,” he says. “I’m stealing you, aren’t I?”
we were a fire with no smoke by notcaycepollard
Sam can’t help but roll his eyes. Take the boys out of New York but they’re still Brooklyn Catholics, that’s clear enough. Bucky catches the gesture, smirks hard enough Sam can see his eye teeth. It should be dangerous but he’s beautiful, pale and charming and recklessly easy.
“You wanna come in?” Sam asks, ignoring the noise Steve makes, and Bucky’s smile gets wider.
“Yeah,” he says. Steps up close to Sam. “I do.”
Peace Begins with a Smile by Siancore
Bucky just likes the way Sam smiles.
They're Good Drones, Brent by chase_acow
When Redwing becomes infected with an alien A.I., Sam has to balance the needs of the team with his own curiosity about his new partner. Redwing isn’t the only one acting strange, he also needs to get to the bottom of Bucky’s weirdness. It takes a training exercise gone wrong that Redwing and Sam might not survive for their secrets to be exposed.
Wet Asphalt (This Is What Love Is) by ObviouslyOtter
Soft words in the dark tell us all we need to know about love. Better when they come from the person you need to hear it from most. It's crueler when you don't realize it till afterward.
Or
Sam and Bucky go out shopping for candles.
i'm gone by bi_marvel
After infiltrating a Hydra base, Sam and Bucky are sent to a safe house, and there's only one bed. Oh, golly, I wonder what will happen!
Covert Coffee & Flirtation Special by glittercake
The reporter says "—for Captain America to—"
And Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh, here we go."
Sam looks at him then tips his head sideways, got a weird grin on his face. "Not a fan?"
"Not that. Just… the guy seems too good to be true, right? Wings and a shield? Come on."
"Uh, is that why your eyes are like glued to the screen whenever he's on?" Kate says. "Is that why you call him Captain Tight Ass?"
"He's a goddamn show-off, and you know it. Tight ass or not."
Just then Sam snorts, real loud, grabs his coffee and suffers a horribly controlled laugh on his way out the door.
The Starting Line by birdlight
A Series
Lone and Level Sands by quantum_consciousness
The almost-smile disappears off Sam’s face and he takes a step deeper into the water, and he starts unbuttoning his shirt as he wades further. One look over his shoulder and he chucks the shirt to shore, and Sam dives into the water. The ache in Bucky’s chest deepens as Sam swims. He supposes, Sam has lost a lot more, he supposes, sometimes Sam feels as lonely as he used to.
in which love doesn’t ruin us by joesnick
“Idiot,” Bucky said, so natural and deliberate that she couldn’t hear well but it was there. Relief and happiness under a small light. “Don’t do that to me again.”
“Hey, I’m here,” Sam said, before getting closer and pressing his forehead against Bucky’s. “I’m here.” They ran out of words. They didn’t need them, not at that moment. Their steadying breaths and their tenderness, saved only for each other and fed by each other, was all they needed.
Ride of Shared Melodies by enchantedlightningwrites for honestlyfrance
Two strangers, Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson meet in an unexpected encounter in the airplane. Over the course of the ride, they discover their mutual love for music and connect.
Let's Fly Away by Unclesteeb
"If I could fly, I could go anywhere. I could do anything.”
Sam’s mom gives his shoulder a gentle pat. “You can in your own way.”
“How?”
“Sammy, all you have to do to be as free as a bird is to just do the right thing.”
Sam furrows his brow. “What does that mean?”
“Well,” Sam's mom starts. “The right thing is doing nice things for people. It's treating everyone how you would want to be treated. It's going out of your way to help people and love them, even if they're not nice to you at first or at all. People deserve love, and I know you have plenty to give.” She leans down to give his cheek a kiss. “All you have to do to find your wings and fly free is to just do what you feel is right. You have a beautiful heart, Sam. I know you'll use it the right way. Then you'll fly.”
Been one of those days (can I lean on you?) by hazel_eyed_bi
Sam and Bucky wrap up an exhausting, weeks-long mission, only to go back to their mutual pining while forced to share a bed at a crappy motel. Also, Nat knows what's up.
Find your love and fight for it by winterscaptsam
Sam learns to love again, quiet and composed. Love letters stay in between walls and stolen kisses don’t leave his apartment. It's not that it's a secret, loving Bucky the way he does, lord knows he’d scream it from the rooftops, travel all the way to space to let any living life form know it as well. But that’s the problem, he just doesn’t know how and it aches him to his core to keep Bucky like a secret, like this love is something to be ashamed of.
Or
Sam decides it's about time to come out.
Kings of Everything by glittercake
Twenty-five years after the events at a popular New York Bistro, Timothy DumDum Dugan tells the true story of infamous mobster Jimmy Buchanan and the man he gave it all up for.
arson we commit by winterscaptsam
Bucky seeks adventure, reaches out for an adrenaline rush whenever he can get it and he reckons this fellow will be the one to give it to him. All sweet smiled and dolled up figure showing off his attributes. Like he’s daring anyone to take the rush.
So, Bucky goes and gets what he wants.
“What’s your damage, doll?”
Or
Bucky is the hitman and Sam is the target.
The Boys of Summer by Siancore for avintagekiss24
Sam Wilson returns home to the small town he grew up in to complete his med school residency. He hasn’t been back for an extended amount of time since he left for college. While he only consistently kept in touch with childhood friend, Steve Rogers, he was keen to see the people he had grown up with. With the exception of Bucky Barnes. They had a falling out the summer before Sam left for college.
What happened between them? Can they move past it now that they’re adults?
Sam's Plan by OhHelloFandoms123
“I have a plan,” Sam said smugly, hands on his hips. “I have a three-step plan for you to marry me.” At first, he thought he was joking. Then, he saw Sam’s genuine smile.
Bucky groaned, “there is no way in HELL that I’m marrying YOU, Wilson.”
Wreck In the West by OhHelloFandoms123 for honestlyfrance
There’s just something about leaning on his chest as the sun goes down and the smell of tea whilst into the air feels so amazing. And he was a wreck because of it, it tore him apart and put himself back together because it was so blissful, he almost couldn’t breathe at first.
OR
Gay cowboy proposal.
Belonging Season by OhHelloFandoms123
Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes have lived their most happy, married life for 70 years. Death won’t stop them today for living an eternity.
neverending; by glittercake
Sam passes away after a long and happy life with Bucky, but Bucky never ages and life keeps introducing him to Sam's reincarnates for the next 156 years.
Lighthouse by glittercake
This guy’s trouble. Bucky knows that in his bones. It’s not bad trouble, is the problem, it’s good. Sam is so goddamn inherently good and if Bucky even touches that with a ten foot pole—fuck if he even looks at it—it’ll turn to shit.
He can’t afford another move to yet another city because his colleagues started recognizing Brock’s fist prints on his face.
But Sam is a ridiculously bright glowing light, a beacon, and Bucky goes toward it like that idiotic moth to the flame.
masterlist | ko-fi | patreon
#onlysambucky#sambucky#fysbfriday#fysambuckyweek#winterfalcon#sam wilson#bucky barnes#france: fic rec#fic rec#sam x bucky#sam wilson x bucky barnes
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" wow... you look... you look amazing. " for peter please? i love love love ur writing btw!
NOTE: This... ended up so embarrassingly long... i don't even know what the word count is, but i can bet it's a good 20%-30% longer than the average blurb.
WARNINGS: cursing, quirky🤪 mentions of drug use, implied making out (but can be perceived as sex, dear god please don’t perceive it as sex though), and some good ol’ fashion stark!ready x peter parker banter
They say, "never meet your heroes." Well, Peter wished he had adhered to that warning before he ended up here — a lanky, overdressed thumb towering high above the roof of the Avenger's Compound.
A semi-annual assembly of New York City's finest heroes that had little to do with their civic duties, and much to do with their inhibitions, and just how much alcohol it would take to release them — but there was one glaring problem.
Peter didn't drink.
He never saw the allure, especially when it came at such a high risk. He'd convinced himself that he refrained for the sake of Aunt May, the only remaining part of his family who put her life on the line to ensure his safety and overall well-being — the Spider-Man reveal already took some getting used to, he didn't need to add drunken night expenditures to her overnight fretting. Yet, when Flash's 'End of the Year' party had been raided by the police, a small part of him found joy in knowing he needn't fear the police or their breathalyzer test, even if he was deemed Pussy Parker for the remainder of that summer.
Even if he wanted to instill some liquid courage into himself, he hadn't the basic courage to let himself be vulnerable like that, in front of all the adults that made up the Avengers. Mr.Stark had already commented on his only suit, and how small he looked as it swamped his form, and the entire altercation made him wish the roof would just open up and swallow him whole.
Bullies, you'd call them.
There they were, New York's finest Defender's, huddled around the Mastrangelo like it couldn't put their entire life savings to shame, hosting a rousing game of beer pong upon its marble exterior. Your father was lucky your mother was still in Milan, tying up loose ends on a new line of bullshit you didn't concern yourself with. You just counted the days until she returned home, and you could soak up every ounce of her nurturing presence.
God, did you miss her.
It’s not like your father wasn’t just as nurturing, competitively so, to a point were you almost felt smothered — but you were too alike. In spaces where you both held too stubborn, your mother was there to mediate, and with ceaseless barrages of dry humor came her firm, unwavering severity, proving her love with candid remarks instead of jesting quips.
“Oh, free intern!” He dragged you from your nostalgic supercut with your endearing nickname, coaxing a fierce glare from your hues. “Run down to that place on 7th street and get some beer? And not that Miller Coor’s Bud bullshit, the upper echelon on Sigma Delta Nu delicacies.”
Jesus Christ.
You had caught glimpses of his argument with Steve, complaining about how stupid it would be to pour anything top shelf into a red solo cup — blasphemous really — but you didn’t expect him to do anything more than concede.
"Father of the year, everybody." You clapped just above your head, prompting the remaining company to join you. "I think you're forgetting that I'm not twenty-one."
"First and foremost, I know I am," Tony counters your triumphant grin with a sarcastic one. "Which is how I know that your fake ID says 21."
"Stark, it's fine. I can grab the beer," You thanked God and her impeccable timing once Steve interrupted, settling himself between the two of you with outstretched palms. "I could use the fresh air anyway."
You mimicked Steve's stance, cocking your brows toward your father. "See? Problem solved. Now leave me alone."
Losing interest in the company exponentially, you started to retreat, but groaned once your father's voice pierced the air again. "Nuh-uh-uh, Rogers. Why? So you can go to the nearest GNC and snort a container of protein powder? I don't think so."
You retreat to the furthest recesses of your mind as Tony and Steve bicker back and forth about honesty and friendly competition. Steve wouldn't know how to bump a rail if the U.S Army assembled a thorough, interactive training course on it, and his age quadrupled the life expectancy of most snow-packed socialites. Yet, on the other hand, you were shocked that your father even knew what a GNC was — ultimately, you were riled from your thoughts by an irksome realization.
"Are you fucking- Why can't old man Jenkins do it?" you gestured wildly toward the enhanced super soldier in question, blind to the obvious offense scrawled across his features. You seldom took your opulent lineage for granted, but when situations such as these presented themself, a selfish corner of your mind wondered what it would be like to have a run-of-the mill, cheesy-pun equipped, golf short wearing father. "You'd rather risk your daughter's own safety, and the sanctity of her criminal record, for a stupid game of beer pong?"
Natasha's incredulous laughter chimed between your incessant back and forth, spurred by the uncanny resemblance you and your father shared between every aspect imaginable — your dry wit just so happened to be in the spotlight.
"Yes," He didn't bother to meet your glare, already familiar with its scorching beam against the side of his face "Yes I would."
Hues practically rolled into the back of your skull, exaggerating your every move to a thespian level to make it clear, to even the boniest of heads, that you didn't take pleasure in this task. You were so excited to finally unwind at this event — slam down the sugary mocktail your Uncle Thor always "forgot" to order virgin, dangle your feet over the shallow end of the pool, maybe even shoot a few low jests at Bucky if there wasn't a carnal gleam in his eyes.
Your thrilling plans were now put on hold just to support your father's mid-life crisis.
"I know, I know." He tried to repeat the name of the wine stop n’ shop, only for you to wave him off. He wasn’t wrong — you had been abusing your fake ID in that very stop n’ shop for years, though you’ve recently come to the conclusion that the cashier was far more interested in your chest than your credentials. "If I get arrested, I'm bring you down with me. I'll tell Business Insider that FRIDAY's just one, big elaborate ruse for the underground Fake ID business you have on the side. They'll eat it up like-"
"Love you, honey! I'll venmo you!" He butt in, sending you off with a wave of his fingers.
You flipped him off, shouting an earnest 'I love you' in return. There was no denying that you loved each other, some would even argue that he loved you more than he loved himself — you just chose to show it in your own, eccentric way.
Mere seconds into your newfound task, you stopped dead in your tracks. You could make out that bed of chestnut locks anywhere.
"Parker?" Swiftly surveying his frumpy attire, you struggled to stifle the upward tilt of your lips. Even as he stood uncomfortably before you, visibly seconds away from crawling out of his own skin, he still managed to be the sweet, endearing Peter you knew and loved. "God, I didn't even realize that was you."
You didn't have the heart to tell him that you caught one fleeting glimpse of him at the very beginning of the festivities and thought he was a part of the catering company, nor did you feel a need to disclose the snide remark you whispered into your father's ear about the miserable staff. There was no sense in kicking a dead horse while it was already down.
His gaze weighed heavy against your frame, though, bolstered by an overwhelming intensity that forced you to wonder if he could read your mind. Though, if you could tap into his thoughts, you'd be shocked to find a reflection of your own — bewilderment, adoration, the tell-tale signs of a burgeoning crush, and the myriad of excuses that disputed them.
He could only manage to stumble over his words, complimenting you with sentiments that could never amount to the emotions welling in his chest. "Wow... you look... you look amazing."
And you couldn't argue, not with the way you were pampered hours prior. Mercier had smothered your hair in this honey-infused serum that made your curls bounce to life with each step, and the custom Jacquemus silhouette you were sporting hugged every ample curve enticingly so. You felt like a million bucks, and you probably cost that much give or take, so why deny it?
Peter, on the other hand — Well, he was very lucky that he was so cute, and his jawline could probably cut Vision's infinity stone straight out of his skull. It almost made up for the tragic shape of his suit, and just how tragically out of place it was at this event.
"You look, um-" Softness tugged at the corner of your eyes as they crinkled dotingly. "You look very cute."
"That was a very convincing half-truth." He chuckled, a subtle pink hue blooming over the valleys of his cheeks."
"Oh, so a part of you knows you're cute." You teased, enjoying the way the pink hue grew deeper.
"Oh! Oh, no... No, I mean, kind of? On the scale of confident perspectives, I think-uh-cute... Cute is on the lower end? And you know what? My Aunt May-"
"Peter, you wanna get out of here?" You interrupted him, hoping to save him from all the words he had yet to stumble over. "And then immediately come back?"
"Yeah," He vigorously nodded his head, despite being equally as confused. "Yeah, I'd like that a lot."
"Come," You offered your hand, a small gesture the two of you have woven into your complicated relationship.
You'd tend to straddle a very thin line between friendship and something more, reaping all the warm, tentative affections of newfound lovers without explicitly considering yourselves so. The both of you, for as brilliant as your merits show, continued to convince yourselves that the hand holding, the comfortable silences, the mornings plastered against each other's sides, were simply happenstance. Despite the increasing willingness of each encounter, you'd only ever chalk it up to chance. So when you offered your hand out to him, he took it in stride — because the two of you would indulge in every ounce of attention you could get your hands on, at least until one of you inevitably came to your senses and found someone worth your time.
Your fingers were firmly intertwined as you led him to the roof’s exit, tugging him down the staircase and through the vacant halls of the top floor just in time to catch the elevator. You found no reason to keep his hand hostage once you were inside, so you begrudgingly retracted yours. You swore you could hear a pitiful huff come from his side of the elevator, but you chalked it up to wishful thinking.
Now it was just you and Peter, left to your own devices, and roughly ninety-two floors away from your destination. Just enough time to do what you were aching to do.
“Peter,” You murmured, and his gaze flickered to your own without a moment of hesitation, drenched in a hopeful haze you failed to decipher.
“Y/N?” He echoed, tilting his body toward your own.
“You look...” You paused, unsure of which word accurately portrayed your thoughts. ”insane.”
“I know.” He whined. You tried to stifle the giggle that bubbled at his hopeless demeanor, brows furrowed together as he squeezed his eyes shut, shoulders slumped impossible low.
“It’s a good thing you have such a charitable friend.” And you made light work of his suit jacket, the air suddenly rapt with a thick air of electricity as you worked the offending article off his shoulders, haphazardly tossing it on the ground. Protests formed on the tip of his tongue, but he opted to swallow them in return for your help, going slack when you ran your fingers through his meticulously gelled hair.
Though he embodied the vision of a suave, debonair socialite alarmingly well, with his carefully quaffed locks, nothing suited him as well as the pillowy, fawn tendrils that made up his soft curls. You needed them back, needed a reminder of your sweet, darling boy, and patience was never your strong suit.
You wondered if he was in need of the same reminder, seeing as he’d let you manhandle him without so much as a hum of discontent.
All done. Only a few revisions, and he was a completely different boy. Clad in a crisp, white shirt, sans its horrifying grey counterpart, you rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and unbuttoned the top three discs. The fabric was taut against his impressive set of muscles, leaving little to the imagination with each sweeping roll of his arms. You’d pat yourself on the back, but you were too busy drooling all over your work.
“Is- Is this good?” He broke the silence with a tentative query, peering back at you through his lashes.
"Yeah,” You voice came out strangled at best, distracted by the flurry of butterflies ravaging your stomach. There was something about this moment — maybe it was the glint of tenderness ridding his gaze, or your tight proximity, or maybe it was fate, finally persuading you to topple over that dangerous line — but regardless, you decided it was now or never. “but there's still something missing,"
“My jacket?” He breathlessly queried. His eyes frantically searched your face, like he couldn’t settle on just one feature to admire.
“No, no...” You breathed back, cautiously inching closer, until there was only a sliver of space separating your chests. "You need to loosen up, Parker."
“And what- What do you suggest I do?” His gaze flickered down to your lips shamelessly, and returned just as quickly.
“Do you trust me?”
“I’ve trusted you this far.”
“Good,” You sighed, your breath fanning over his lips before you greedily chased its warmth, kissing him with such feather-light pressure, it almost felt like a dream — a thrilling, delicate dream. You had to tear yourself from his lips before you delved even deeper, hoping to find a mirror image of your relief, your satisfaction, in his own features. However, before your eyes even fluttered open, his palms swept under the curve of your jaw, and coaxed your mouth back to his, instantly qualming any of your fears as you both melted into the exchange. He tasted of spearmint, and cherries, and something so intoxicatingly him that you could barely restrain yourself.
You wanted him, God, did you want him, and for the first time, someone wanted you just as much, without an ounce of greed to it — He wanted you for you.
The remaining seconds of the elevator ride were filled with fervent kisses, and wandering hands, your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck while his bunched the silky fabric of your dress. It was all smitten, indulgent brushes of your lips until the elevator dinged, and the doors opened up to reveal the fashionably late, dynamic duo —Sam Wilson and James Buchanan Barnes.
Their expressions were nothing short of priceless, one complexion green while the other ran pale at the sight of your interwoven limbs. You tried to open your mouth before they could comment, but you were far too late, buried in a booming wall of—
"This is a public space! You are defiling a public space!"
"I can't do this— I'm gonna take the stairs."
Their voices weaved into a messy, irritated harmony of disbelief, managing to still complement each other despite their varying levels of urgency.
An idea, a selfish, evil idea, popped into your head, and you enacted it before you could even unravel yourself from Peter’s hold.
"You just reminded me, I was about to text you! My dad needs a couple cases of Yuengling.” You gestured for Peter to press on the “Open Door” button, and by the time he started clicking the prompt, you’d already fetched your wallet, fishing your card out for Sam. “They probably have some at the corner store, but he’ll throw up if he finds out he was drinking alcohol from the corner store, so you’re gonna have to walk down to that market on Seventh.” You could feel Peter’s perplexed gaze gnaw at your shoulder, but you persisted in your impish pursuits, shoving the AmEx into his hand.
“Chop chop, lover boys!” You hastily snapped your fingers in his direction, and yelled just loud enough to make sure Bucky accompanied him, parsing their punishment out evenly.
Served them right, encroaching on such a perfect moment.
Bucky’s groan echoed through the stairwell, followed by a childish stomp of combat boots, and you were pleased enough to shoo Peter’s hand away, pressing the “Close Door” button.
Sometimes it was nice being Tony Stark’s daughter — less backtalk from the sovereign throne of comebackdom.
“I thought you said we were getting out of here.” His brows were pinched together, the most adorable little frown forming between them.
“Oh, we most certainly are,” You replied, pressing the button for your floor. You could tell that the pieces weren’t clicking all the way, and you proceeded to spell it out for him, dropping a chaste kiss to the spot just below his ear. “We’re gonna go to my room. And then we’re gonna go right back to the party when we’re done.”
“When we’re done?” He mused, voice wavering beneath the soft caress of your lips, scattering even more tentative kisses down the column of his neck.
“When we’re done.” You parroted back, meeting his downward gaze through your lashes.”I think you still have some loosening up to do.”
#peter parker#peter parker x reader#peter parker blurb#peter parker oneshot#peter parker x stark!reader#3K ????????????#3?????????#K??????????#IDK HOW I GOT HERE#MOM PICK ME UP IM S C A RED?????#idk i think there's just something about stark!ready x peter parker that just gets me going#mine*
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This isn’t what @memes-saved-me had in mind for this post but lol (read their tags, they’re delightful)
Thinking about a younger Billy and an older Steve today ✨
✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨
Billy scratched at the hair on his nape. He wanted to grow it out; really had always wanted long hair. And now, as he peered at the other sophomores trying to fluff themselves bigger to match the juniors and seniors, he just might.
Long hair was in. Mullets, rock star manes, extensions - even the opposite. Women with buzz cuts and pixie faux hawks. Pleasant little surprises in Hawkins, Indiana, and Billy might finally indulge in that.
Plenty in this town was backwards as all hell. Girls wearing white stockings like it was the fifties. Boys and girls alike clearly letting having learned hair styling from their out-of-date parents. Two girls with beehives sat in his English class.
But it was fine, because there was plenty of present-day styling, and Billy wouldn’t get any shit at home for matching his peers.
Cherry Lane. The most backwards spot in Indiana.
But that’s okay, too, because small town people need occupations. Parties.
A cool senior with teased, black hair walked right up to him and handed him a neon orange sheet of paper. He saw others holding similar invitations all day.
Party on Friday night. Address, dress code, and everything.
Caught him by surprise, that a dress code would be needed for one of these things, but the invitation just said ~casual attire~ and someone in his Advanced Biology class told him that Tina hosts the best shin digs, often with costume themes.
So he went. The late summer evening was still humid as all hell, making the party split between the massive house and the matching yard a convenient way to start a weekend.
He’d had alcohol before. Enough to know he preferred tequila drinks over vodka and gin, but the safest way to wake up the next day was to just stick to beer. No matter how bitter or sharply carbonated some of it was made.
Maybe that’s why he heard people hollering about King Steve.
Keg stands weren’t original to Hawkins, but Billy preferred them next to a bonfire on a beach. But people were really yelling for this king to do the damn thing -
“Steve, why are you even here? You graduated in May,” Tina’s voice cut through the din.
“I live down the street! You really think you’re making this much noise without me noticing? And all of you shut the hell up! I’ll do a keg stand the day one of you dip shits can actually beat my record.”
Another surprise:
Steve Harrington.
Billy’s dumb luck had him three years behind, so he couldn’t look at that face in the hallways. Sit behind that head of glossy, bouncy hair in European History. He still lived in town, apparently. Right down the street. Billy asked around and discovered he worked at the mall and attended the community college -
“Heard you been asking about me.”
Billy stared wide-eyed over his beer. He recovered quickly, but not before Steve bounced on the balls of his feet, smug. That hair was really distracting.
These people really gossip about everything.
“I didn’t think anybody actually went by a title like that.”
“I didn’t put it on my resume, that’s for sure.” Steve’s smirk grew into a smile. Christ, the guy really had that Indiana, home town handsome thing to his face.
That was dangerous. Billy’s gut told him so, the way it bruised like someone had poked it. And wanted to be poked again.
“Let’s do this properly. Steve.” He held his hand out.
It wasn’t queer to accept a handshake. “Billy,” he replied.
“Hargrove?”
“Jesus,” he scoffed involuntarily, releasing Steve’s large hand. His weight shifted over his feet. “Everybody knows everything here.”
“Not everything,” Steve said. His voice sounded...reassuring? But the way his eyes blinked...and a darkness slipped behind his eyes like a curtain. Adults liked to call it maturity. Wisdom beyond years. Billy called it ghosts. Everyone had ghosts behind their eyes. But...he had a hard time imagining what ghosts this pretty senior in suburban America would already have.
Then again, Billy knew better.
Except, as the party progressed and the weekend flowed into a new week, Billy really couldn’t imagine what made Steve slouch a little, and what made his eyes fade out of a conversation. Billy probably should have put more attention into how much he’d begun seeking the guy out.
He worked in the ice cream parlor at the mall. The uniform was equal measures ridiculous and hilarious, but his coworker was cool as hell. Robin. Not Steve’s girlfriend, even though they carpooled to work and community college.
Steve’s house proved just as luxurious as Tina’s, with a pool to boot. A house which supposedly stayed empty more often than it hosted its own family. Steve notoriously didn’t host parties, which....seemed uniquely odd.
Apart from Billy visiting the ice cream shop, it seemed Steve’s only other visitors were high school freshman. Which was weird. That’s weird, right? Then again, Billy was ball and chained to eight hours a day, five days a week to high school. There was plenty of time for Steve to be with friends his own age.
Except he showed up at the next party on Halloween.
Tina’s house boasted a surprising number of Hawkins graduated seniors, forcing the party all the way out onto the street.
Just like before, Steve manifested beside Billy, announcing himself with fingertips brushing his slowly growing, weak little mullet. “Growing that out?”
Steve’s already heavy eyelids were heavier with alcohol. Billy had his customary cup of beer, but his cheeks flushed for a different reason. He had to rub the back of his neck to make the tickle stop.
“Yeah. Maybe it’ll touch my shoulders next year.”
“Have you trimmed it?”
Billy frowned at him. He’d heard some things come out of Steve’s mouth that were endearing in a ‘bless his heart’ kind of way, and this was among them. “No, that defeats the point of making it longer.”
Steve shook his head and waved for him to follow. “Come here. I’ll trim it.”
“You’re not cutting my hair,” Billy scoffed. And followed.
Upstairs.
Billy did his best not to look around the living room; to see any eyes apart from the ones he imagined on his backside. He followed at a leisurely pace. Not eager to be with King Harrington anywhere...
The guy walked right into the closed master bedroom. Billy stood outside of it, stunned at his audacity and the fact that no one was inside it already -
“You coming?”
Billy’s not a coward -
Actually he is. But he’s an overeager sophomore with a dangerous crush even more.
Steve dug through the master bathroom’s drawers until he found a pair of scissors in their own case. “Sit on the tub.”
By tub, he meant jacuzzi edge. Billy perched. Steve gripped his shoulder to step into the tub with a comb that smelled of foreign hair product and aftershave. Billy’s nose wrinkled. “Wash that first.”
Then he jumped at the tub faucet turning on right beside his ass. Steve laughed. “Chill out. I’m washing it.”
Billy settled with a disgruntled shake of his head. “My hair is curly. You’re not supposed to brush it at all.”
“You’re in the hands of The Hair Harrington, sweetheart. Just relax.”
His shoulders sagged right underneath the weight of sweetheart.
I’m so screwed -
Of all people to show up in the doorway, Robin from Scoops showed up with an energy that insinuated more sobriety than the guy wielding scissors.
Her mouth hung open like she had come with something to say, but then she sputtered through laughter. “Oh shit. Are you consenting to this?”
Billy rolled his eyes. “If he cuts my ear, I’m beating his ass.”
“I’d appreciate more faith from you, Buckley. I cut your bangs for you.”
Billy chirped, “Really?” admittedly feeling a bit better.
Steve intercepted with the order, “Are you gonna play music or what? I’m so tired of Tina’s music.”
That’s how Billy wound up in a bathroom with college freshmen trimming his ends and styling his hair while Steve and Robin shout-sang to Whitney Houston.
It was great.
Steve curled the top of his hair so he had ringlets falling over his bold brows. Steve, who had his hands all over Billy’s head until he washed the hair down the drain and filled the tub for a bubble bath. Billy scrutinized himself with a handheld mirror until Steve wrapped his arms around him and they tumbled backward into the wet landing.
Tina was hardly pleased to find the three of them making a mess of the jacuzzi, but she sassed a quick thank you for warding off people trying to fuck in her parents’ bed. Billy didn’t have words; only laughter at Robin putting her hair into a wet mohawk and Steve piling bubbles onto his head.
Steve insisted they go back to his house afterward. “It’s November and we’re soaked. Your car will be fine. I can come back and park it in my driveway if you’re that worried.”
That wasn’t the problem.
“It’s fine that your parents are never home, but mine will only recently lifted my curfew for good behavior.”
Somehow, he convinced Steve and Robin to drive him back to his house, at the expense of letting them change at Steve’s first. Billy had his eyes on a beautiful Camaro and was just a few more months of allowance and part time jobs away from having her.
It was his first time in Steve’s house. He had to admit, he preferred Tina’s layout and decor, but he got to wander around. He saw Robin use one of the guest rooms. He saw Steve’s....incredibly boring room. And said as much.
“A prison cell has more personality.”
Steve laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. Are you ready to go?”
It wasn’t until Billy lay in his own bed that those words tumbled through his brain. His fingertips moved through his still-styled hair. It felt better with those dead ends gone. Steve did a good job. Steve liked Whitney Houston and Blondie and a little of everything, really. Steve cared about his appearance enough to be a self-taught stylist.
Steve didn’t have a lot of furniture in his room. Clutter on the dresser and desk, sure, but all of it monochrome or neutral colors. Steve who had an old BMW, house, and surely a bank account to match, but didn’t buy anything in excess. Like he wasn’t allowed to, or something. Billy indulged every scent he got on things he wanted, but Steve didn’t.
Steve had a nailed bat in his trunk. Billy heard it rolling around on their way back to his house, and finally bent over to look under the seats and saw it.
Steve was a walking contradiction. A contradiction who smelled good but didn’t say much when Billy and Robin talked about history. Who started giving Billy free ice cream but never asked about Billy’s stepsister. Who gave Billy rides and gave him the hookup to the high-paying neighbors of Loch Nora for mowed lawns and dogs walked.
Steve helped him get his car sooner than he would’ve otherwise but didn’t ask for anything in return.
Steve, who was always available for a good time, but looked sad when left with his thoughts.
Billy didn’t take well to not being the center of attention. He’d grown up with an interrogation lamp over his head, and sought positive interaction everywhere else. He got so much of it from Steve, that the occasions where Steve bumped against him...refused him, or ignored him, or reminded Billy that he was a rinky dink sophomore lit a match in his belly. And he’d swallowed gasoline for too much of his life.
“That’s something a virgin says.”
Billy couldn’t even remember what he’d just said. He was already, instantly, seeing the glow of embers on the fringe of his vision. “Excuse me?”
Steve shrugged as he got up from his couch. “It’s whatever. It’s fine. Just showing your hand, is all.”
Billy couldn’t believe it. Steve was either the biggest idiot in Hawkins - which he knew wasn’t true considering there was a real cesspool that smoked underneath the bleachers - or he was so far in denial that Billy had a whole new reason to be pissed.
An involuntary sound left Steve when Billy came up behind him and pushed him against the wall underneath the stairs.
“You don’t know anything about me.”
Billy wasn’t some cute sophomore. He stood toe to toe with Steve, barely an inch shorter. If this is what it took for Steve to realize that, fine.
To realize that Billy wasn’t some teenager scared shitless of a girls’ bra -
Steve regained his footing, and closed the distance between their mouths. It was small, soft, and brief. Rationality should have made Billy step away. Punch him, maybe. But Billy wasn’t rational. His shock held him statuesque, barely breathing while Steve moved a hand to cradle the side of his head and neck -
A sound left Billy this time, as Steve angled his mouth over Billy’s. Where he learned Billy was scared, so scared of Steve. His body dashed rationality against the wall and kissed him back tentatively, and then earnestly, just trying to keep up until Steve’s other hand framed him in. As Steve pushed against him until Billy walked backwards to have himself pressed against the wall.
He felt drunk as his hands let go of Steve’s shirt to hold onto the curvature of his ribs. He panted while Steve kissed his throat and washed Billy’s senses with his warm, sweet fragrance; his hair brushing Billy’s face and inspiring him to turn his face into Steve’s scalp. Inhale him into his lungs.
Billy didn’t know what game they were playing. But Steve outplayed him.
#are we in the present day or the 80s? who knows#harringrove#younger billy with s3+ steve#ficlet#neonponders#memes-saved-me#pondermoniums#a sprinkling of#virgin!billy#this got long lol#i wanted to write more but i like this ending#for now?#i have things I need to do lol#i'm sorry for the abrupt ending
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love in the time of p.t.a. meetings {marcus moreno} - 4/5
summary: after a few months of slightly chaotic bliss, you & marcus start to think about the next steps in your relationship. {series masterlist}
warnings: swearing
this is up a little later than i wanted & i do apologise, i once again stayed up all night and i cannot recount a single thing i’ve done. enjoy!
- jazz
Things between you and Marcus quickly fell into a routine.
You kind of had to when you both had kids; their lives needed structure. Depended on it, in fact. It wasn’t long before both of your lives were entangled in more ways than one, mostly for the sake of Missy and Jack having security around them but also because things between you were so good. Neither of you were trying to rush by any means, but when it worked, it worked. You were both good at communicating with each other - not that many issues really cropped up - and you both understood that your children came first. Things progressed easily and naturally, and he made you feel secure enough that you didn’t have to question whether or not it was too good to be true.
Five months had quickly passed and you were both comfortable. Marcus Moreno was your boyfriend and it wasn’t a big deal. Okay, it had been at first - especially the first time he planted a kiss on your lips in front of the minivan brigade - but now? It was normal. It felt like he’d always been there, and you took it as a good sign. You got on well with Missy, especially since she’d witnessed your spat with Carol and started to think the world of you, and Jack...well, he was obsessed with Marcus. You couldn’t blame the kid.
‘Jack! Put the soup down!’
It was another one of those mornings. It was a Sunday, so you didn’t have to worry about getting up early for school or work but you’d been at Marcus’ till late the night before. You and Jack ended up spending a lot of time at his; there was a swimming pool and a big garden for Optimus Prime to run around in, so it tired both of your tiny spawns out, which worked in your favour.
Even when the kid had spent four hours swimming last night, he’d still risen that morning at 6AM like Jesus Christ on the third day. You’d woken to find the kitchen covered in smashed eggs and ham, then your oven had broken and the toilet was blocked again.
You’d been halfway through reversing the problem when you’d heard Jack shuffling in the kitchen. You were stood in the hallway, still in your pyjamas, with a toilet brush in one hand and the other balled up into a fist.
‘Jack, the soup is about to-’
You paused mid-sentence, watching as the bowl he was trying to reach for toppled straight off of the counter. You’d only washed his hair ten minutes ago, and you might as well have not fucking bothered because it was now covered in chunky vegetable soup. And the Chewbacca onesie he loved so much? Trying to peel that off him for the next few hours to wash the Heinz out of it was going to be a whole task in itself. You’d only just been to the laundrette the day before, and you’d gotten to the point in life where having a place with its own washing machine was a sign of success.
‘Mum, there’s soup in my hair.’
‘It’s okay.’ You took a moment to breath. ‘We are not going to cry.’
‘I’m not crying.’
‘Wasn’t talking to you, buddy.’ You rubbed your temples for a moment. ‘C’mon, let’s go hop in the bath.’
So much of parenting was just...stopping to breath. Stopping to take a moment to remind yourself that although your love for your child was unwavering and unconditional, you sometimes felt like screaming. All you’d done for the last five hours was go in circles, cleaning and lecturing and cleaning some more. It made you wish you were at work that day, because at least then you could have conversations with people that weren’t about what cheese they wanted for lunch or what cartoon they wanted to watch.
‘I just had a bath.’ Jack muttered.
‘Yeah well, you need another one.’ You took another deep breath. ‘I’ll be there in a minute-’
‘- I don’t want a bath!’
‘And I don’t want a kid that’s covered in soup!’ You shot back. ‘C’mon, buddy. Just do as I say, please?’
Your conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door. You frowned for a moment - you weren’t expecting anyone. There was no post on Sundays and you hadn’t seen your landlord since the day you’d moved in. Your nosey neighbour knocked sometimes, usually asking about the noise (he didn’t have kids, clearly) and you were this close to telling him to mind his own fucking business.
‘I swear to god, if that’s David again, I am going to shove this can of soup up his - Marcus!’ You almost did a double take when you saw your boyfriend stood at the door - he really chose his times, didn’t he? You hadn’t even had time to put the fucking toilet brush down. ‘Hey.’
‘Hey, baby.’ He greeted you slowly, eyes slowly taking in your appearance (and not in a sexy way). ‘Were you not expecting me?’
‘Shit, did we have plans?’ Your eyes widened.
‘No, but Jack called. He said you’d asked him to ask me to come over, but I realise half way through that sentence that starting with Jack called probably means you had no idea.’ He offered you a goofy smile. ‘He said that the sofa had exploded and that you needed help.’
There was a lot to unpack there. When had Jack done that? More to the point, when had he learnt to use the phone? How had he worked out your phone password? The kid couldn’t do up his own velcro and now he was a Russian hacker, apparently.
‘Oh my god.’ You groaned. ‘I am so sorry. Things have been batshit here this morning and I’m sure he had my best interests in his weird little heart, but he made you come all this way-’
‘- Marcus!’ Speaking of the devil.
Jack pushed past you, wrapping his arms around Marcus’ waist. He leant down to pick him up, lifting him off the ground - albeit at a distance, due to Soupgate.
‘Hey, buddy.’ He greeted him. ‘You been causing trouble again?’
‘Not on purpose.’ Jack replied. ‘Mum says I need another bath.’
‘I think she’s right.’ Marcus said. ‘Why don’t you go pick out some clothes and come back in a minute, yeah?’
‘Okay!’ Seemingly impressed by the newfound trust in him to choose an outfit, Jack wriggled himself back down to the floor, trotting towards his bedroom. Seriously, how did Marcus do that? Perhaps his ability to have authority over your archaic child was another hidden power of his.
‘You look like you need a break, baby.’ He reached out, gently running a hand down your arm.
‘I’m fine, he’s just been a lot today.’ You sighed.
‘You have soup on your shirt and fluff in your hair.’
‘Couch stuffing.’
‘Huh?’
‘It’s couch stuffing. Except that was Optimus Prime and not Jack, which makes a nice change.’ You muttered.
‘Look, Missy is at her abuela’s today and she’s been begging for ages to see Jack again.’ He said. ‘What d’you say I drive him over there, you clean up and we hang out? Just us, no kids, no dogs, no stress.’
‘That sounds like a fucking dream.’ You couldn’t help but smile. ‘But Optimus has consumed half the couch and I gotta keep an eye on him-’
‘-we can bring him with us!’ Marcus grinned. ‘He loves the garden.’
‘Are you sure? Because I remember you saying you had work plans today and I don’t want you to cancel them on account for the fact I can’t control my own kid. Or life.’
‘You two come first.’ He said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. ‘Three, including Optimus Prime.’
--
In the time it took Marcus to drive Jack to his mum’s and get back to yours, you were able to clean up. The apartment was still a state, but it hadn’t been properly tidy in...how many days had it been since Jack was born? Because it hadn’t been clean in exactly that many days. You felt a little bad dumping him on Anita when he was still covered in soup, but if anyone was able to wrestle him into the bath and some clean clothes, it was her. You’d met her a few times and she was absolutely lovely, but you had no doubt she could be terrifying when need be. She was the sort of woman you aspired to be.
By midday, you were driving out the city. There was music playing quietly over the radio and you were watching the houses go by; even though it was cold out, you had the heater on and you were bundled up in a leather jacket, Marcus’ scarf snugly around your neck. It smelt faintly of his aftershave, which had become one of your favourite scents over the last five months. The time had gone so quickly. You’d seen each other practically every day since then, and having the kids meant you’d been fallen into being domestic pretty quickly. The simplicity of it all - him and you and getting to this point so easily - was overwhelming in itself.
Your first relationship had been so complicated - so finicky and filled with unnecessary arguments. That should have been a sign early on, but then you’d gotten pregnant with Jack and getting married had seemed like the obvious thing to do. His presence meant you wouldn’t have changed anything, not for the entire fucking world, but it made you a little sad to think about how long you’d wasted on what had clearly been the wrong person. Meanwhile, Marcus’ situation had been entirely different; he’d had the right person the first time around and then he’d lost them. You never felt like a replacement to his wife, or even thought about the notion, really. That had been another part of his life. You were a new part and it didn’t mean he was forgetting the past. The two could co-exist without taking away from each other.
‘You’re deep in thought.’ Marcus observed. He moved one of his hands to rest on your leg, giving it a light squeeze. He did that a lot, usually whenever you were sat beside him at the table or on the sofa. It was just a him thing.
‘Yeah, sorry.’ You tore your gaze away from the window. ‘My brain always goes a little into overdrive when things are quiet.’
He chuckled. ‘What’s on your mind?’
‘You, actually.’ You tangled your fingers with his, thumb brushing over the back of his hand. ‘I was just thinking about lucky I am and how good things are, and how it almost feels too good to be true.’
‘Better believe it, baby.’ He replied. ‘Because it is true.’
‘I know.’ You peered over at him with a smile. ‘It’s just...my only perceptions of relationships were based on the single one I’ve had. Everything was so complicated and exhausting. This is completely different and it’s so nice. And normal. And I don’t know, that sounds stupid-’
‘- it’s not stupid at all.’ Marcus peered over at you, shaking his head. ‘It’s natural to be a little apprehensive after a bad relationship and if there’s anything I can do to help, you just have to tell me. You know that, right?’
Maybe it was the way he said it, or maybe it was just him, but you knew for certain that he meant that. There was sort of a silent agreement now that you were both in this for the long haul. Your mum had always said that you’ll know when you know but you’d always written that off. Mostly because you hadn’t known the first time round. But, now you did. You did know and though you weren’t going to admit that to Marcus, you never doubted him for a second.
‘I do.’ You said. ‘But he’s in the past now - and hopefully it’s where he fucking stays.’
‘I have contacts. I can find him and set Miracle Guy on him.’ Marcus’ grin had returned. ‘Just say the word.’
‘You make a tempting offer.’ You smiled back at him. ‘But the past is the past and I’m ready to...slam the lid on that dumpster.’
‘Do you think he’ll ever want to come back into Jack’s life?’
You pondered for a moment. ‘I don’t think so, but if he did, I dunno if I’d let him. I never wanna be the person who stops someone from seeing their kids but what he did was...it was unforgivable.’
‘You don’t have to make that decision until it actually happens.’ Marcus gently said. ‘And I’ll support whatever you choose.’
He pulled into the drive way of his house - his nice, clean, sofa-stuffing-and-soup free house. Optimus Prime leapt out the car as soon as the door was open, practically tearing past the two of you and down towards the yard. There was a moment of silence and then a splash!
‘Guess he found the pool.’ Marcus commented. ‘At least it’s heated, I s’pose.’
Truth be told, he loved having the three of you at his house. It felt like whatever had been missing before was slowly making an appearance as your relationship progressed. The irony was that you brought nothing but chaos and clutter with you, but that was exactly what made it feel like a home. It was small things; the painting that Jack had done for him at after school club was now hung up up on the fridge, and there was a photo of him and Missy on the fireplace with Optimus Prime. Half of the thousands of blankets of pillows that had been at your place had ended up on his sofa, thanks to the countless sleepovers.
If he could have it his way, Marcus would have you live with here all the time. The energy that you and Jack brought made everything feel complete. He loved the evenings where Missy and Jack would play out in the pool, and you two would sit back inside, complaining about the cold. Then there were the nights where you’d take both the kids back here when he was working late, and he’d come home to find you piled on the couch watching an old movie, with your burnt cooking abandoned on the stove, surrounded by boxes of left over take out. It was the kind of thing that was so simple and so domestic, but it was everything he wanted.
That was probably the flashpoint moment when Marcus Moreno realised he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. He already knew he loved you - he’d worked that out about three months in, when you’d fallen asleep in one of his shirts whilst trying to wait up for him - but he hadn’t said it. He’d hinted at it and made back-handed comments but he’d barely admitted it to himself, let alone to anyone else. He knew what you and Jack had gone through before and it broke his entire fucking heart. You both deserved someone who stand by you and support you, someone who would embrace you both for the craziness and warm energy you brought everywhere with you. More than ever, he was realising he wanted to be that person who gave it you. After all, you’d made his life so much brighter without even trying.
Snapping out of his trance, Marcus looked over at you. You’d already ditched your shoes and dropped onto the sofa, pulling one of the blankets with you. This was exactly what you needed. A quiet house, your favourite person and a cable knit blanket.
‘Hey, baby?’
You looked over at him, smiling at the name. ‘Yeah?’
‘You know I love you, right?’
You blinked in surprise, sitting up. ‘I know.’
‘You do?’
‘You’ve never said it, but I can tell.’ You nodded, before offering a smile. ‘And I love you too.’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.’ He slowly approached you, dropping onto the sofa beside you and taking your hands in his. ‘I think I just got so caught up in everything and feeling everything that I forgot.’
‘Why are you apologising?’ You couldn’t help but scoff at him, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips. ‘It’s your actions that say it, Marc. Hearing it is good but you showed it a long time ago.’
‘I know, but really you deserve to hear it everyday.’ He smiled against you, helping you move onto his lap.
‘You do tell me everyday, with the things you do.’ You reminded him. ‘Like meeting me in the parking lot with coffee, or bribing Jack into going to bed early with video messages from your superheroes, or doing my grocery shopping when you know money is short.’
‘Why wouldn’t I do those things?’ Marcus seemed genuinely confused. ‘It’s you.’
‘I love you.’ You repeated the phrase.
‘And I love you.’
He pulled you into another kiss - this time it was a little firmer, not unlike your second declaration of love. Marcus did all those things without thinking, simply out of his intense want for you to just be happy. He was the same with Missy, always doing little things to make her life easier just because. It was just part of who he was, and it made him happy to see his loved ones happy.
With your body pressed against his and your hands tangled in your hair, Marcus realised he didn’t want you to ever leave again. He didn’t want you to have to drive home in the dark at ten because all of your stuff was on the other side of town. You did stay over sometimes, but then you’d have to creep out at 6AM with a sleeping Jack in your arms to get home in time to get ready. He wanted you here all the time. You should have been here all the time.
‘Move in with me?’
He both did and didn’t mean to say it out loud. He did because he wanted you so badly to be a permanent fixture in the house, but he also didn’t because the idea might have been a little absurd. Was it too soon? What if you didn’t want to leave your place? He knew you loved your apartment. It was your home and had been for a long time.
‘What?!’ You suddenly pulled back from the kiss, eyes wide.
‘I mean...if you want to.’ Marcus slowly said. ‘Hell, Missy and I can move to your place if that’s what you want. It might be tight but she loves the dog and I just want to be with you-’
‘- hey!’ You cut him off, planting your hands on his shoulders. ‘You’re rambling again, but that’s besides the point. I would love to live here.’
‘You would?’
‘I would.’ You smiled.
It made sense. Aside from the glaringly obvious fact you wanted to, it was also practical. It was closer to the school, closer to your work and it had a fucking swimming pool. Marcus was already clearly financially secure and moving in wouldn’t mean relying on him, but it would have meant that things for Jack were a lot more stable. Missy loved the company of you both, and it meant she would finally have the dog she wanted so bad.
‘Missy would be okay with it, right?’ You asked.
‘She was the one who put the idea in my head, actually.’ Marcus admitted. ‘I’d thought about it but then she kind of asked in passing why you don’t live here, and I couldn’t give her an answer.’
‘Your kid is smart.’
‘D’you think Jack will-’
‘- I’m going to stop you there.’ You cut him off.
‘Right, I probably don’t need to ask that question.’ He chuckled.
‘Exactly.’ You pressed a kiss to his nose. ‘Don���t forget the dog, either.’
‘How could I? I can literally see him peeing on my lawn right now.’
‘Our lawn.’
--
Exactly three weeks later - and after a hefty amount of paperwork and hours of sorting through Jack’s endless amounts of crap that he insisted on hoarding - moving day came.
Anita had insisted on having the kids again. They were both excited, but perhaps a little too much. They were probably more likely to get in the way of things if anything. Children, a dog and large boxes? It seemed like a match made in hell. Plus, she had a whole ass training course in her back garden and if that didn’t wear the kid out, then you were definitely going to take him to the Heroics to get tested. The thought alone was enough to tire you out.
You didn’t have too much stuff to move. You’d been half-moved into the damn place before Marcus had even made the formal proposal, so that made things a lot easier. You were keeping your sofa for Jack’s room, but the rest was going to Goodwill. Most of it had come from there in the first place.
‘I think that’s the last box.’ Marcus announced, exiting the bedroom. ‘I didn’t realise that a five year could own so many variations of storm-trooper toys.’
‘Oh, yeah.’ You replied. ‘There’s the original trilogy ones, sequel trilogy ones, dark troopers, shock troopers, clone troopers - and I realise half way through listing them that you don’t care.’
‘I never said that!’ He placed his hands on your waist, pressing a kiss to your forehead. ‘I’m excited to learn.’
‘I’m sure Jack is excited to tell you.’ You grinned.
Then, it faltered slightly with the realisation you were actually leaving this place. You’d never intended for it to be your permanent home, but it had still been the centre of your entire universe for half a decade. Every room told a story; the crayon marks on the bathroom wall, the dents behind the TV from, the crack in the living room mirror. All caused by Jack, naturally. The last five years was contained entirely within these four walls and you got bleary eyed at the idea of it becoming someone else’s.
‘Hey, don’t cry.’ Marcus gently wiped away a tear from your cheek.
‘You know, the rent is still paid till the end of the month so we could revisit the idea of you and Missy living here instead.’ You tearfully smiled.
‘You’re kidding but you know I’ll do it.’ He pressed another kiss to your nose, grip on your arms tightening.
‘It’s okay.’ You moved so that the kiss landed on your mouth instead, capturing his lips in a brief kiss. ‘I knew we were gonna outgrow this place. I just didn’t expect it to be so soon.’
‘I know. Still kinda feels like it all came out of no-where, huh?’ He replied. ‘In the best way.’
‘You’re right. In the best way.’ You firmly nodded. ‘Can you believe I was 23 when I moved into this place? I found it on Craiglist within ten minutes of finding out I was pregnant.’
‘Do you wanna take a minute before we go?’
‘No, it’s fine.’ You shook your head. ‘We should get going.’
The apartment was just that: an apartment. And the house you were going to was just that: a house. But the people you were with? That’s what made it count. It wasn’t about the four walls or the roof over your head, or whether or not it had a big yard and a jacuzzi bath tub (though, that did help). It was about the laughter and warmth inside; the faces in the photos on the wall and the people you came home to after a long day. It was the smell of your burnt cooking and the pizza you’d ordered in place. It was Jack’s toys left in the exact place where someone could trip and it was Missy using all the hot water in the morning so that Marcus’ showers were practically arctic. It was everyday things that reminded you of the people around you; the people that made it home, and how lucky you were to have them.
That was home. And you’d found yours.
taglist: @naivara-duneimith @1-2-3-4-5metalfingers @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @lyanna-the-giantsbane @phoenixhalliwell @crazycookiecrumbles @bitchin-beskar @comphersjost
#marcus moreno x reader#marcus moreno imagine#marcus moreno x you#marcus moreno x y/n#marcus moreno imagines#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal character headcanons
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Tyrants | Chapter Two - Gutless
WORD COUNT: 4k
WARNINGS: Death (murder), brief descriptions of gore, Isla and Jax doing something very illegal
MASTERLIST
The morning sun was beating down upon the pair a little bit harsher now, inducing a sheen of sweat to coat over Jax's forehead.
But the perspiration could've formed as a result of coming to the realization that he'd just blown the brains out of an ATF agent, left his body to decompose on Tara's bathroom floor, and spilled his guts--not even twenty-four hours later--to Isla.
Jax knew that he could trust her with anything--he always had been able to trust her with anything. But there was something telling him that she didn't exactly feel too wonderful about his revelation.
Her arm lifted to run across her forehead, ridding the skin of a few salty droplets.
"What do you mean--"
"I mean I put a bullet through his fuckin' skull and blew his brains out, Isla! That's what I mean."
He ran a thumb over his lips, realizing that he should've kept his tone subdued so close to the main doors of the clubhouse.
"Jesus, Jax." She breathed out, pinching the bridge of her nose as he started to pace quietly. "I--I can't believe you're telling me this."
Well, she could. Really, there wasn't anything she could've put past Jax anymore. And when it came to Tara...The man was an idiot. Always had been.
"Why was Kohn even at her place?"
Jax was fidgety. Uneasy. She couldn't blame him for that, could she? Because he'd just fucking killed a man--but still.
He wasn't even trying to hide it.
"Or did you lure him there or something--"
"Shut up." He growled, grabbing her bicep with his left hand as he pulled her to the side of the building. "Just listen to me."
"I'm listening, Jax, but you don't seem to be telling me a lot."
Realizing that he wasn't offering very much explanation, he nodded. Jax let go of her and beckoned her closer, pleading eyes melting her fucking heart.
"Isla, please." He wrapped his arms around her, minding the bloodied shirt.
"What do you want me to do?"
Ringed fingers splayed over her cheek, pushing stray blonde hairs out of her face. He sighed hard. Exasperated.
"Help me get rid of him--"
"Jackson--"
"I'm not asking you to lug his dead body to the creek and throw him in. I'm just asking you to offer a helping hand and be a lookout or something."
Isla searched his features for a morsel of something that'd indicate Jax was messing with her. But he was dead serious--his face set to neutral, eyes glazed over.
"But--I--what about Cameron?"
"Tara and Chibs have it covered." He murmured, heeding the apprehension sail over her.
She was as strong and willing as she possibly could've been. Isla was consistently the person that Jax and Opie would turn to for advice when it came to their girls, or when they needed to be pointed in the right direction.
But he'd never asked her to do such a thing before.
Her loyalty outweighed her nervousness, however. He knew she'd never say no to helping him with such a matter--but it was still asking too much.
Chibs would've been furious that Jax felt it necessary to beg Isla for assistance during such a time, too. Hell, Gemma would've admonished him for it.
"Where is he?" She mumbled, hearing the clubhouse door open and an irritated grunt sounding from the front of the lot.
Jax held her close to his chest, a hand tracing over the skin of her shoulder that'd been exposed as the shirt fell to the middle of her arm.
"Tara's place." His whisper was monotonous, bordering on lifeless.
"Okay--when do you need to do this?"
He eyed Tig storming from the building and toward his motorcycle, completely unaware of the two conspiring.
"Tonight." His voice came low and gravely. "I'll ride to her place now, and you go home, get yourself cleaned up, do whatever you've gotta do today, and we'll head there--"
"I'm not cleaning myself up. I'm already covered in blood--I don't think I need to destroy another shirt."
"Okay." Jax's lips rubbed together, almost turning upward into a smile. "But don't follow me out, alright? Go tell Gemma that you don't know where I went, and then you take it from there."
"And if Tara asks..."
A gentle kiss against her forehead almost forced tears to collate in her eyes.
"She won't ask--she knows I've gotta do this."
Isla silenced herself, though she nodded and watched as Tig--pissed as hell--rode out of the lot and onto the street.
She guessed that he was still piqued after she and Chibs yelled at him.
And she was still pissed at Jax, but for a different reason now.
This time, she wanted to slap the shit out of the blonde idiot standing before her, requesting help with disposing of a literal dead body.
Isla couldn't quite believe that Jax had turned to her and not somebody like Opie--somebody who would be able to help a little more physically--but she could only assume that it was more of a trust thing.
He had a lot of faith in her and she lauded that. But it also saw her get thrust into some questionable situations.
"You look like you're gonna puke." Juice stifled a laugh as Isla padded in, the bottom of her shirt wrenched between bloodied fingers. "Are you good?"
"Yeah." Instantly, she responded. "I'm fine. I just need to get my purse."
Clay was nowhere to be seen--possibly in the back room with Chibs and Tara--but Gemma's eyes focused on the blonde's form as she strolled across the wood.
"You don't look fine. Come sit for a little while."
"I'm gonna head home--"
"Where'd Jax go?" Gemma cut in, lifting an eyebrow conspicuously.
Tell Gemma that you don't know where I went.
"I don't know." She frowned, sitting on the barstool opposite the woman. "We shared a cigarette, talked about Abel, and then he told me he had to go--where, I don't know."
Did she feel bad about roping his child into their little lie? Yeah, a bit. But it was foolproof. Gemma never would've suspected anything to do with Abel because, really, Jax brought him up to everyone whenever he got the chance to.
"Ah. He's probably headed over to see him. I'll go--"
"I wouldn't." Isla pushed. "He's trying to get some alone time with him. He said that he hasn't really been able to spend one-on-one time with Abel all too much."
Which wasn't a lie. Jax needed to spend those rare solitary moments with his baby because his mother couldn't seem to leave St. Thomas for more than three hours at a time.
Gemma just hummed, turning away.
She knew how he felt. But she was Abel's grandma--she just wanted to know that he was safe and being looked after.
"I'm sorry, that was mean...I just think he's a little confused right now, and could use five minutes with his son."
"No, you're right." She nodded, unable to heed the trepidation flitting over Isla because she felt bad about coming down on Gemma in such a way.
That woman was a Godsend to Jax, his children, and even Isla's family. She didn't deserve to be randomly admonished for wanting to visit her baby's baby. Not after everything she'd done for them.
Well, besides trying to murder the mother of Jax's first born. That was a little fucked up--even by SAMCRO's standards.
But Isla adored her. For everything she had done for her during the time she'd resided in Charming, Gemma was regarded extremely fucking highly in her book.
"Go home, baby. Get some sleep, too--you need to rest."
Isla waved her off. "I'm not tired, just feelin' a little gross."
"I'd bet." Gemma pushed her lips together, smiling as much as she could've. "You go yourself pretty again, and swing by later for dinner."
"Yes ma'am." She mock saluted, reaching for her purse.
Goodbyes between Isla, Gemma, and Juice were uttered for a few moments before the blonde made her way to the door.
Her eyebrows raised inquisitively, urging her to turn back to the duo.
"Gem?"
"Mhm?"
"Was Tig alright?" Sincerely, she asked. Feeling a little guilty about snapping earlier.
Gemma didn't say anything but her head bobbed in confirmation, providing Isla with the answer she needed.
The Irish in her shone through during instances like those. She was brash in her actions, words, and the fact she'd always speak before she thought--but the solemnity with which she would ponder, apologize after making a mistake, was just so plainly Irish.
Isla was kind. Caring. Nurturing. She was everything that SAMCRO was not--but, at the same time, everything that Chibs was. Reliable. Loyal. Committed. A true ride or fucking die.
Everybody trusted her, and nobody second-guessed confiding in her.
And, once again, that had its reparations alongside a multitude of perks.
"Holy mother of Jesus." She cursed, the unmistakable Belfast twang flickering through her brusque tone.
Jax haphazardly pulled the bed-sheet over Kohn's lifeless frame, turning to face his little friend who was, to put it lightly, fucking stunned.
"You sound super Irish when you're mad."
"I'm glad you could recognize that I'm mad at you, Jax." Her eyes never once left the outline of that dead body half on Tara's bedroom carpet, half on the tile of her en-suite.
Getting to her knees, disregarding an incredulous amount of blood decorating the walls and carpets, Isla pulled the floral cover off of Josh.
She sighed. "Why'd you do it?"
"He was stalking Tara--"
"So you just blew his fucking brains out?!" Her shriek was guttural. "Jesus Christ, Jax. And you idiots think that Tig is the one with a trigger problem."
"He does have a problem, and you know that! This was different!" He countered, pulling her to her feet. "This was fucking restitution, Isla!"
"No." Calmly, she stated. Her glare piercing. "This was fucking stupid. Possibly the most idiotic thing that you've ever done, Jackson."
His head shook as he sneered, towering over her. Isla felt intimidated. For the first time ever, she felt an unwavering sensation of overawe whilst in the presence of her best friend.
"He was a bad guy. He had to die."
"But he was fucking ATF! Hale is gonna get your ass, and there's nothing Unser will be able to help you with once he gets wind of this--"
Isla's voice cracked around a small sob. She wasn't even aware of the tears welling in her eyes, but they were there the entire time.
It was the thought of Jax making one incredible life altering fuck up--one that he wasn't going to save himself with a bribe, or the simple luck of a good connection to Charming PD--that was maiming her uncomfortably.
Jax's arms wound around her trembling waist, hugging her tightly against his palpitating chest.
The sheer terror visible in her mannerisms was what frightened him. Isla never seemed to scare very easily--or, at least, she didn't show it.
She was fearless, but she was still human. And he had only seen her crack twice. Both times because of the club, too.
"He was stalking Tara." He reinstated, circling his fingers over Isla's svelte spine. "They dated when she was in Chicago, she broke things off but he was a clingy motherfucker and he wouldn't leave her alone."
"She should've gotten a restraining order or something." She mumbled into his chest, sniffing back tears.
"That's the thing. She did. But he broke it by coming back to Charming, pretending to be setting up shop at the PD with Hale, but he followed her around town for a couple weeks instead."
"And nobody questioned why he wasn't getting anything done?"
Jax's head shook. "He was still working for Chicago--or so he said, anyway--so Hale just assumed any intel for whatever the fuck it was he'd been workin' on was going straight back to the big bosses."
She was struggling to follow on.
It was such a convoluted scenario that Isla never thought she'd become entwined with--though, with Jax and Charming being, well, Jax and Charming, she didn't know why she ruled something of the sort out.
"Are you gonna tell Gemma and Clay--"
"No. This is between us, and Tara."
Isla didn't have the energy to bicker with him again. She didn't want to bicker with him again, truthfully.
"Alright, what's the next move, then? 'Cuz this pig can't stay wrapped up in a sheet for too much longer or else he's gonna start to stink this place out."
Jax situated both hands against crimson coated shoulders, lightly pushing her backward so she could look up to meet his gaze.
"I got a plan. But I don't think you're gonna like it."
His eyes went straight to the lighter atop Tara's bedside table, right next to the pineapple scented candle, and she sighed hard.
The man was so sadistic. It wasn't even slightly discreet anymore, really.
Whereas Clay had always been ruthless, remarkably barbaric toward those who had wronged him--or anyone, really--Jax had more of a moral compass. Not much more, but a little. And that was the sort of thing that tied him straight to JT.
But Clarence Morrow had a much more potent impact on Jax's life, thus the man's foibles ended up transpiring to his stepson.
"This is seriously fucked up."
"I know." He didn't even try to argue, pushing Josh into the small grave he'd spent the last ten minutes digging at the pit of a deep, deep ditch.
Isla's body was below freezing, cold and uneasy at the prospect of potentially being caught, or assumed as an accessory to the murder of a federal agent.
"I'm sorry for roping you into this." Jax stated, almost reading her mind. "I just didn't know what else to do."
She ran a hand over his forearm, resting her head comfortably against navy-cotton covered flesh. "I know."
He didn't expect the woman to douse the dead body in gasoline, set it alight, and wait all night for the corpse to torrefy entirely--but she was there now. There was no reason she shouldn't go to the trouble of lighting the first match.
Tara should be the one doing this, Isla thought to herself as the small stick caught alight. She dropped it atop the sheet, taking a few steps backward when the thing immediately shot up into thick flames.
Jax engulfed her warmly with both arms, holding her tightly as if continuing their prior embrace. It felt safe, unusually so. But, to Isla, it felt like he was scouting for that security more than what she was.
"I can't believe you committed murder for a woman that you haven't seen for ten whole years." She laughed against his sweatshirt, eyes watering. "Is there something going on with you two again?"
"No." Huskily, he responded. "There isn't, and there won't be, either. I just swung by her place to make sure she was alright--I knew she was having trouble with that fucker--and he was there. I had to do it, Isla."
"I know."
She didn't. She did not know. She did not want to know, either. She couldn't fucking believe he'd acted out so rashly, how he was so trigger happy.
Jax was morphing into a different man and she couldn't help but pin that on the club.
"Is she alright?"
"I don't think so." His mumble was barely audible, but she caught it.
Isla squeezed his arm reassuringly, knowing that he felt bad about bringing that sort of trouble to Tara.
"She will be." She confirmed. "She's a strong girl, Jax, she'll be okay."
It didn't kill her to speak positively about Tara, she still held a place in her huge Irish heart--but it was an odd sensation to be mentioning her at all.
Ten years had passed by and Isla wasn't even certain that she was still alive. Her concern for the doctor seemed to dissipate over time because Tara didn't want anything more to do with them, so they didn't try with her.
Maybe it was a pang of jealousy that held her back. She was undeniably envious of the fact that she'd gotten out of town, worked her ass off, and experienced bigger and better things.
But, essentially, everything led back to Charming, and Tara Knowles had ended up falling into that same heap of trouble she left behind a decade ago.
Isla pulled her cellphone from the back pocket of her jeans, groaning when she saw the time.
"We've got an hour before Gemma wants us for dinner. You think this son of a bitch is gonna turn into dust within the next sixty minutes?"
"No." Jax laughed, leaning to his left and propping his head atop hers. "But he'll be unrecognizable in the next twenty."
"Perfect."
It was barbarous. Vile. Inhuman.
Isla's mother would be spinning in her grave if she knew the chaos she'd managed to find herself meshed with. Diane would kill Chibs, too.
She'd kill him for roping her baby into such malice after leaving Belfast. She'd want to throttle the Scottish son of a bitch for welcoming little Isla Áine Telford to SAMCRO, to Charming, to Jax fucking Teller.
They weren't natives to the small town, nor were they natives to California. Chibs had just moved from charter to charter. Continent to fucking continent. And taking his little angel along for the ride wasn't exactly planned until his late wife took her very last breath one stormy morning.
It was the most upsetting thing he had to do, telling his daughter that the woman she looked up to and adored with every fiber of her being wasn't coming home.
He'd been in the army, he'd seen things no man should've ever seen, but the sight of that six year old--teary-eyed and partially cognizant--was something that cut him so deeply, Jimmy O'Phelan's mark didn't seem to scratch the surface of Chib's inconsolable hurt.
"I think we're good now." A little nervous, Isla noted.
She simply couldn't wait to get out of the bitter chill, into a hot shower, and to the dinner table at the Teller-Morrow residence.
Jax surveyed the scene. He crouched down, heeding the flicker and sick crackle of flames engulfing the barely fleshed body.
"I think so, too." He confirmed, throwing her the keys to his SUV. "Get outta the cold--I'll finish up here. K?"
She nodded, clutching the chain close to her chest.
Isla wasn't sure how badly she was trembling until she sat still in the passenger seat, watching the club's VP commit the unspeakable.
Really, she wasn't shocked to find out that Jax was capable of the sort. Burning a man dead was better than burning one alive, and she was thankful that Josh had been put out of his misery before his body was cauterized into dust...Which was more than what could've been said about Kyle Hobart.
She remembered overhearing the club's plans to sear, or slice, the SAMCRO tattoo from the back of that brute once they'd gotten wind of his inability to black it out.
And she would've felt bad about that man getting viciously harmed, if he didn't fuck Opie over and subsequently land him in Chino to serve five years away from Charming and his family.
It was cruel, she knew that. To blowtorch the MC tattoo from the stretch of his back, was fucking cruel. Isla knew that Tig was adept at causing such blistering agony, but she didn't think he would actually go through with it, least of all with such delight.
Isla feared that man sometimes. Clay's right hand, the man who sought to protect her, fucking terrified her because he was so unpredictable. So fast acting.
"He's done." Jax officially confirmed, sliding into the driver's seat. "You okay?"
She was staring off into space, her eyes glazing over at the realization she had just helped dispose of another human being.
"Isla--"
"I'm good." Finally, she spoke. "I just--uh--I just wanna get cleaned up and head to dinner now."
He pinched the keys from a frail palm, sticking them into the ignition. All the while wondering what the fuck he was going to do with the shaken up woman to his right.
Twenty-three years of friendship, and Isla never once thought she'd be involved in such incredulous activity. Jax never thought she'd get hauled into it either, really.
Juice was right. She looked like she was going to throw up, all pale and sickly.
He had done that. Jax was, essentially, the reason that Isla seemed as though she wanted to crawl out of her own fucking skin. Granted, she was already feeling rather discomfited after tending to Cameron's laceration for hours on end--at odds with her father and Tig for that time, too.
But now this...This made Isla feel horrible. Dirty. Disgusting.
"You want me to tell Gemma you're not feeling it tonight?" Jax looked beside himself, noticing her head hanging low as she flared out of the window. "So you can skip seeing everybody--"
"No." Flatly, she responded. "No, I wanna make sure Tig doesn't hate me."
"Why would he hate you?"
"I yelled at him." Isla sounded downcast, sad. "He was watching, being awkward, trying to tell me what dad and I were doing wasn't going to suffice, and I just snapped."
In understanding, he hummed. He knew how irritating Alexander Trager was. Irritating, insufferable, it was all the same.
"He won't hate you for that." Comfortably, Jax rested a hand on Isla's thigh.
She barely felt the ringed fingers gently gliding along her jeans as she shook. It was a tremor, light and unnoticeable to the naked eye, that Jax felt reverberate through his entire body through his palm.
"I don't think he's managed to be pissed at you for more than fifteen minutes at a time."
"Yeah." She mumbled, shifting awkwardly. "Yeah, you're right. I'm too sweet for anybody to stay mad at me--"
"I wouldn't say you were sweet."
She smacked at his hand with a laugh, throwing her head backward as her smile started to fade.
It was bittersweet.
Bittersweet because she was realizing that Tig had pardoned her for being a bitch, but she had also just disposed of a dead body on the side of the freeway.
Bittersweet because, now, there was no clear path for her and Jackson and whatever happened was just going to happen and they had to grin and bear it. Pretend it wasn't eating them from the inside out.
Bittersweet because their families--their family--were currently sat around the oak table in Gemma's dining room, waiting for the pair to waltz in after doing the most heinous.
Bitter. Fucking. Sweet.
"Where were you guys?!" Tig pointed his beer bottle at the duo, heeding Jax's hand in Isla's back pocket.
Of course, to Trager, that was more than just a comfort thing. He didn't know what they had just done--nor would he--but she was going to let him believe whatever the fuck he wanted to as long as it wasn't the actual truth.
"It don't matter." Clay dismissed, gesturing to Jax and Isla's designated spaces at the table. "They're here now. That's all I care about."
Her smile was warm, friendly and welcoming while she sat in between her father and partner in crime. Literally.
Chibs nudged her. "You alright?"
"Yeah." Slowly, she uttered. She reached for the wine glass that Gemma had so kindly laid out for her.
The two blondes made eye contact for a few moments, Jax's crystalline hues completely lifeless. Arid. He nodded toward her, an indication that he was feeling alright.
But Isla...She wasn't. Lying through her teeth was the only feasible means of getting over this. Whatever this was.
"I'm fucking brilliant, dad."
#tig trager#tig trager fanfiction#tig trager fic#tig trager x oc#sons of anarchy fic#sons of anarchy fanfiction#sons of anarchy fandom#sons of anarchy#jax teller x oc#jax teller fanfiction#jax teller
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Uh could we please get a sequel for 'flowers for four-eyes' ? Where years passed by and maybe they have lots of kids of different ages and it's all very fluffy and funny. It's my favorite fic btw!
(psssst, it’s obviously a sequal to this)
Levi stared unblinkingly at the glass door of the shop, hypnotizing the person who stood behind the counter. The said person was seemingly oblivious to it, too engrossed in whatever book she held in her hands.
"You seem nervous," Erwin commented lightly.
"Nervous?" Levi repeated, trying very hard to keep the aforementioned nervousness out of his voice. He gripped the bouquet in his hands tighter. "Now why would I even be nervous about? I'm only going to ask the person I love most in this world the most important question in my entire life. Really," Levi said, sarcasm dripping out of every word. "There is really nothing to be nervous about."
Erwin sighed, laying a comforting hand on Levi's shoulder. "You've been dating for, what, three years already? And you've been sharing an apartment for almost two years now. You're doing more than fine. Besides, you've talked about this before, right?"
"We've discussed the possibility," Levi explained with a pained expression. "But what if Hange didn't exactly mean it? Or what if she changed her mind about it?"
"Levi," Erwin rolled his eyes. "Hange loves you. She loves you so, so much. Of course, she'll say yes."
"But what if she says yes, but she doesn't really mean it? What is she says it, because she doesn't want to hurt my feelings?"
"It's Hange we're talking about," Erwin reminded with a sigh. He was getting tired of this conversation and Levi's baseless doubts. "She's as straightforward as they come."
"But what if—"
"Just go and ask her already," Erwin pushed him in the direction of door. "You won't know what her answer will be until you ask the damn question, Levi. C'mon, just be yourself."
Levi gave Erwin a look. "You always say that people hate when I do that.”
"Well, fortunately for you, Hange seems to like you just the way you're. So stop fretting."
"Alright, alright," Levi ran a hand through his hair. Shit, he thought, as he put his hand down. Now his hair looked messy. Should he go back home and comb it? Or— he remembered that Hange liked when his hair was in disarray. Should he make it look messier?
"Levi," Erwin said in a low voice. "Go."
"Wait— wait, I should— I should practice my speech once more. Now where is it..." he opened his coat, searching for the small piece of paper, where a lengthy speech he poured his whole soul into was written. Levi looked inside one pocket, then another. He couldn't find the paper. His panic intensified. He checked his pockets again, slowly and methodically, trying to calm the growing tremor in his hands.
"Erwin," be stared at his friend with wide eyes. "I’ve forgotten it. I've forgotten that damn thing."
“The ring?” Erwin asked, worry now reflecting on his face as well.
“No,” the ring was in his jacket pocket, right beside his heart. “My paper with my speech, I’ve forgotten it.”
"Relax," Erwin gripped his shoulders tightly, lowering his face to look Levi in the eyes. "Levi, everything will be fine. You don't need that paper."
"But what— what if I forget something? What if I stumble or begin stuttering like a fucking idiot or—"
"Whatever you're going to say, I can guarantee you that Hange will love it. Whatever inappropriate, crude shit you're going to tell her, Hange will undoubtedly find it endearing. You can do this. I believe in you."
Erwin’s words worked like a charm. The tension started to leave his body.
"I— Thank you, Erwin," Levi's eyes softened, as his body visibly relaxed. "I think I’ll go now. I'm ready."
"Good luck," Erwin smiled. "Make Hange happy."
Levi nodded. He took a deep breath, calming down his nerves. Hange loved him and he loved Hange. Of course, she'll say yes.
He pushed the door open, walking inside. Hange didn’t lift her head to look at him. It wasn’t a book she was so engrossed into, Levi guessed. Hidden under the counter was probably her notebook, where she wrote her science notes. He remembered Hange telling him that her lab team was reaching some deadline soon.
Maybe, it wasn’t the best time to propose?
No, Levi reminded himself. He was going to do it. Today. Otherwise, he will never gather enough courage.
Hange still didn’t notice that he entered and it gave Levi a few precious moments to silently admire her. Her appearance could hardly be called beautiful or even pretty, but he had never really cared for such trivial things. He liked staring at her, liked tracing the curve of her nose with his fingers, liked looking at her brown sparkly eyes and, most of all, he liked touching her lips with his. She was the best thing that happened to him, and he spent more than one night, with Hange pressed against him, wondering what he had done to deserve her love.
“Levi?” Hange finally looked up, breaking his train of thought. As soon as their eyes met, his pulse raced double time. His hands began to sweat. “Why didn’t you text me to say that you’re coming? I would have made tea for us.”
“No,” Levi slightly shook his head, summoning all of his courage. “It was supposed to be a surprise of sorts.”
“…Okay,” Hange nodded warily. “Is today some holiday? Did I forget about our anniversary or—?”
“No, I just came here to talk, um, to ask you a question.”
“…Alright.”
“I had it all prepared, wrote the speech and everything, but I forgot it, because— because I’ve been thinking too much about you. And that’s the problem I’ve been dealing with for more than four years now. Ever since I’ve met you, four-eyes,” Levi scowled fiercely. “I’ve been unable to stop thinking about you.”
“Levi,” Hange smiled softly. “That’s the weirdest, but simultaneously the sweetest love confession I’ve ever heard.”
Levi let a small sigh, Erwin was right. Despite his shit way with words, Hange, as always, seemed to understand him perfectly.
“Here,” he handed her the bouquet. His heart was in his throat. This was it, the most important part. “It’s for you.”
Red carnation, snapdragon, chrysanthemums, irises, camellias, daisies, blue hyacinths, roses, peonies and sunflowers. As soon as Hange saw the wide range of flowers, her smile widened.
“The flowers—” Levi cleared his throat, continuing to look at Hange, even though his face felt like it was on fire. “They have different colors and shapes, but they look good together, don’t they? Even though, they are not supposed to fit, they do and it— it reminds me of you and me. We weren’t supposed to fit, right? You and I are so different and yet we fit so well together, it’s almost as though… we were meant to be.”
“Levi…” Hange called hesitantly, plucking a single spider flower out. “The spider flower... in flower language,” she frowned slightly, “it means ‘elope with me’. So, um, it— is it what I think it is?”
He shrugged. “I guess so.”
“Oh. Oh. I, uh, I need a moment. Excuse me, please.”
And then, without saying anything else, and without giving Levi a chance to say anything else, Hange disappeared in the back room.
As he watched her go, Levi’s heart fell. So… she didn’t wish to marry him. He cursed, furious with himself. Why did he even decide to do it? Wasn’t he happy with Hange already? The marriage wouldn’t have changed anything between them. But now… oh god, Levi realized. What if Hange will break up with him now? What if his failed proposal made her realize that she didn’t want to live with him? What if he just ruined the best thing in his life?
Before his mind could go into a state of turmoil, though, Hange came back. In her hands she held a single ambrosia flower.
“Now I don’t really know the flower, which will perfectly translate my feelings,” she stood in front of Levi, twirling the flower around and playing with its petals. Her head was lowered, eyes cast down. Even so Levi could see a faint blush on her cheeks. “But, Levi Ackerman, the biggest grump I’ve had the fortune to know, the gloomiest clean freak I’ve met, my favorite midget in this whole world, the love of my entire life,” Levi’s breath hitched in his throat, as Hange looked up. There was an impossibly happy smile on her face and in the corners of her eyes he saw a few unshed tears. “Your feelings are more than reciprocated. Of course, I will marry you.”
“Jesus Christ,” Levi breathed out, his heart still beating so much faster than usual. “You fucking asshole, why the fuck did you walk out on me like that? I thought you’d reject me.”
“Reject you?” Hange laughed. “Levi, I love you more than anything in this world. Yes, maybe, I’ve never really thought about this whole marriage thing before I’ve met you, but if I could call you my husband, I’d be the happiest person on Earth.”
Levi showed her one of his rare smiles. He wrapped his hands around her waist, standing on his tiptoes, so he could reach to her lips.
“So,” he whispered against her lips. “Is that a yes?”
“That’s a yes,” Hange murmured, before finally crushing her lips against his.
Even after four years of being together, Levi never got tired of kissing Hange. He guessed he would never get tired of it. He loved holding her in his arms, loved tangling his hands into her hair, loved the way she always smiled, while they were kissing, loved the way Hange’s face looked slightly dazed, when they broke apart, loved the loving gaze she gave him. He loved kissing Hange and he loved Hange. And now, since they were going to be married, he could keep kissing her for an eternity and then a little more.
#decided to make it a little different anon#hope you still like it ;)#also it's the second posted fics in two days????#that's called productivity and i have LOTS of it#take THAT depression#also i've been working on another fic 👉👈#don't know if i'll post it since it's extremely self-indulgent BUT#stay tuned folks#levihan fanfiction#levi and hange#levi x hange#levi ackerman#hange zoë#snk#snk fanfiction#levihan
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