I have a writing prompt; it is the writing prompt I think about constantly and will probably end up sending to everyone one of these days so I can just swim in a pool of stories so here it is

Katniss + long, beautiful stockings

Hiiii! This is super old but I started it and decided to just finish it! Idk if it’s anything you wanted but uh… it’s something 🤗😅. Anyways I don’t write sex scenes so this is probably as spicy as I get sooooo. Idk. Enjoy? 🤣🤣🤣. Oh and also I didn’t know what kind of stockings you meant sooooo, hope it turned out to your liking, Caters.

I hear the clang of my husband putting away the last of the dishes, signifying he’s finished with cleaning up the kitchen at last. He’s very particular about the task, spending far more time at it than I do tidying up the living room.

I was done and finished with my chore a good forty five minutes before he was his and felt a rush of happiness, not for the first time and doubtfully for the last, that when we silently chose household tasks to take on, I naturally gravitated towards where we sit and talk, where we nap and knit and on rare occasions watch the television, and not the location where we regularly make a mess.

But even being done long before him, I still linger downstairs. I don’t enjoy going to bed without Peeta, even just for a few minutes. Instead I just lay down on couch, resting until he finished washing plates, putting away the silverware and sweeping.

I’m close to slumber, so very close that I’m just barely teetering on the edge of consciousness and as a result, I feel his hands on me before I realize his presence. His ice cold hands — he doesn’t like using the warm water for washing dishes, after an entire childhood of his mother coaching him to save money wherever they could — slip beneath my shirt, causing me to jump as a result.

“Hey,” I exclaim, sleep still heavy in my tone, kicking my leg up uselessly to shoo him back.

But he just chuckles and relents, taking his hands off me. “You ready for bed?” He murmurs knowingly, his voice full of sarcasm given my heavy lids and slightly slurred voice.

“Yes,” I say as clearly and pronounced as I can, extending my arms towards him expectantly.

“I’m not carrying you,” he asserts, immediately shooting me down, no levity in his tone at all. He’s gotten good, as of late, at not giving into me like he used to.

My eyes open then, feeling abruptly more awake now at the stab of betrayal my husband just stuck me with. “Why not?” I murmur, my voice maybe the slightest bit annoyed.

“Because my back is killing me, Katniss,” he says, reminding me of what I already know. He picked up a heavy box wrong when grabbing the bakery shipment from the train station and pulled a muscle or something. I teased him about getting old and how hitting twenty-three has taken its toll on him.

As if suddenly remembering the same conversation as me, Peeta adds, “Your twenty-two year old body must be better equipped than mine for climbing those stairs.” His tone is far from serious and I know he’s taunting me but his words do ring true. If I’m being honest with myself. Especially if I take into account Peeta’s prosthetic leg.

“Fine,” I say, pushing myself off the couch and walking past him to trudge to bed, exhaustion still proving prevalent now.

But for some reason, as soon as I’m about to take the first stair, Peeta rapidly changes his mind. He catches me entirely off-guard, swiftly wrapping one arm around my waist and sweeping the other behind my knees, tossing me up against his chest.

“Excuse me, you just made it clear this ride is closed,” I say before recognizing the double meaning in my words. His eyes are alight and his mouth is turning up in a sly smirk when I clarify begrudgingly. “Shut up. You know that’s not what I meant.”

I am constantly doing that to myself. I’m constantly digging myself into holes with accidental innuendos and unintended implications and Peeta never hesitates to make fun of me over it.

“I know,” he replies as he climbs the stairs, still holding me tight. But he chuckles and I shoot him a dirty look. I’ve never enjoyed being teased, not even now after all these years.

“So why did you change your mind about giving me a lift?” I segue sternly.

“Oh, I decided I want something in return,” he easily brushes off, crossing the threshold to our bedroom, setting me down on my side of the mattress.

I shoot him a look of perplexity. “What do you want?” His statement confuses me. We don’t exactly have that kind of marriage, where we owe each other things or tally up favors. In fact, it was him who instilled that notion into me, into our relationship, long before we were even close to toasting.

“A back massage,” he slyly says as he slides his pants off to climb into bed. I roll my eyes to myself then, as he gives me a bright, cheeky smile. Of course. He’s been wanting me to massage him for days now.

“Lay on your stomach,” I murmur begrudgingly and he complies, not needing to be told twice.

As soon as he’s lying face down, I crawl to his side of the mattress, tugging his shirt up and helping him pull it over his head. Once it’s gone, his bare back is revealed, every muscle, every contour, every scar there on display.

Without hesitating, I climb right onto him, swinging one leg to rest by his other side and straddling his waist. I watch his smile grow, visible even with his face pressed into his pillow, but otherwise I choose — wisely — to make no comment.

I begin kneading his back gently, the way he prefers it. When I first started giving him massages, I was always too rough, having no prior experience at the task. Unlike him who massaged dough almost every day of his life and was able to apply the same principal to my body when our relationship got to that stage. By the time I was asking him for massages of any kind, he was a practical expert, already having reopened the bakery and gotten back in the habit of kneading dough.

Of course, he found my analogy both insane and laughable when I made mention of it. Which only made me mad and, ironically, resulted in him offering more massages than ever before, to ease my ire.

My hands move up and down his spine tenderly, stopping and rubbing deep circles into the places he moans when touched. More than an hour passes before I have to stop, as my straddle on his back is an uncomfortable position to sit in for prolonged periods of time.

Immediately upon my rolling off him though, he absently catches one of my calves as it slides across his back, as if to stop me from moving away. Only for some reason, his tired eyes crack open and focus in on my leg within his hold.

“What’s this?” He asks, puzzled as he takes in the stockings covering any visible part of my leg.

“What’s what?” I yank my foot away, feeling aburptly defensive.

But he’s persistent if nothing else and he tugs my leg back. “Are you wearing stockings?” He suddenly asks, like he’s never seen such a thing before.

I don’t know why but I blush at the inquiry. Which is ridiculous, I tell myself. We’re married and I’ve literally have sex with this man countless times. I don’t know why I feel strangely vulnerable about woolen knee-high socks in his presence now.

“I was cold,” I defend, my gaze flitting towards the open window. The window he insists stay open, as to allow a breeze in to soothe us to sleep. Or soothe him to sleep is more like it.

“Where did you get them?” He asks, but his voice is distant and not with pain or worry for once but rather with something warmer. Something much warmer that I immediately recognize.

His fingers hook in my black stretchy pants and I lift my hips for him to pulls them down and off, murmuring quietly, “Cinna made them for me years ago. I barely wore them before, since they require something to tie them into place.”

I don’t even think he’s listening to my words as his eyes hungrily take in the cable-knit red stockings, traveling up to where they tie near the middle of my thighs. “Why wear them now then?” He murmurs and his hand falls on the exposed skin between the stockings and my underwear. His thumb strokes my thigh sensually and I have to seriously concentrate in order to speak.

“Because I was cold,” I say but my voice is strained and I sound unsure of my explanation.

And then, without warning, Peeta pulls me and lifts me right into his lap, cradling me across it, his mouth on mine as his hand runs up and down the entirety of my leg, eliciting a fire to slowly burn in the pit of my stomach. “Peeta,” I whisper, a little confused, not by his intention — that’d be impossible to mistake — but by what sparked his desire.

I try to say more but his hand travels up my shirt at the same time his mouth opens at the side of my neck and all that comes from my lips are completely intelligible sounds.

“I’m warming you up, sweetheart,” he whispers, his fingers moving lower again, this time to trace a slow, tender circle beneath my bellybutton before sliding back up again.

He pulls his mouth away from my neck only to trail over my jaw and press open kisses over my chin. Just as he goes to take my bottom lip between both of his, I whisper, “I had no idea stockings were a turn on for you.”

His fingers brushes down my side, running the entire length of my body until they settle on my left leg, touching the ribbon that holds up the stocking. “Will you wear them more often?” He asks, softly kissing the corners of my mouth, alternating sides.

My hand travels down his bare chest, greedily feeling his firm and steady muscles beneath my touch. “If you want me to…” I tease, only to have my seductive smile kissed away when he takes my mouth in his firmly.

“I want,” he whispers, his arm that isn’t cradling my back still resting on my knees, still stroking the top of my stockings. “I want very badly, my love.”

Turtledove

Your love of nature pays off... in an unexpected way.

Request: Could you do fae prince!Jungkook who has stolen you away? 

Pairing: Fae Prince!Jungkook x Reader

WC: 1.5k

Genre: fluff, drabble, idk?

A/N I just like bees, ok? Thanks for the request, anonie!

|mlist|

“Let me be your ruler, ruler, you can call me queen bee…” You sing to yourself as you weed your backyard. You’ve got half a dozen lavender bushes waiting to be planted, but first you’ve got to prepare the soil. Just as you’ve finally yanked out a particularly stubborn nettle, you feel a soft tingle on your skin. A bee has apparently made itself comfortable on your wrist.

“Hey, little lady,” you say with a smile. Maybe this is your signal to take a break from the relentless sun. You’ve never been scared of bees. Even as a child, you always seemed to attract insects and animals. Your mom called it magic; you’re of the opinion that good souls can sense each other. “It’s hot today, huh?” You ask the bee, who buzzes contentedly on your hand as you move back into a shady patch beneath the cherry tree. “You’re gonna like the lavender once it’s all grown up, there’ll be plenty of pollen.” It must be your imagination, but it seems like the bee buzzes more happily at your words. “Well, go on,” you say, waving your hand lightly to encourage its flight. “Get back to your queen, honey- ow!”

Almost in slow motion, you watch the bee press its stinger into the flesh of your palm before looking right into your eyes. The world tilts sideways and everything goes black.

Something cold pokes your cheek and you suppress a groan. You feel dirt and leaves beneath your feet, and something softer, wet– moss?

“Mina, you weren’t supposed to kill it,” an airy, male voice says.

“I didn’t mean to,” a girl whines. “I panicked.”

Your head is killing you, and when you at last open your eyes, you blink weakly. “Where…?”

“Ah, good, it’s awake.” And in front of your eyes is the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen– his hair is a soft forest green, his skin inhumanly perfect, his nose tilted up just slightly and his ears pointed, as though he’s wearing prosthetics. He’s draped in shimmering green-blue robes that seem to move despite the stillness of the air. “I’m sorry for Mina.”

“Who…?” Normally you’d be scared, but the ethereal man in front of you practically radiates calm; against your instincts, you feel yourself relaxing. “Who are you?”

The man opens his mouth but before he can respond, a blue-haired girl– this must be Mina– claps her hands excitedly. “This is his royal highness, heir to the forest fae kingdom, the Crown Prince Jungkook!”

“Thank you, Mina,” the… prince? Responds bemusedly. “This is Mina, my aide, and the one who brought you here.”

You stand up groggily. “Where’s here?” You’re in a forest, certainly: tall trees with broad leaves create a dappled pattern of sunlight on the soft floor. You don’t hear even the hint of civilization. No cars, no chatter, just the occasional bird call.

“Oh, this is my kingdom. And you, human, are my guest.” He snaps his fingers and it’s like reality melts away. Where there were nests or messy branches suddenly appear small treehouses. What you thought was an animal’s burrow transforms into a beautifully decorated hut built into the earth. The messy rocks and moss beneath your feet rearrange themselves into neat paths leading throughout the forest. And right behind the prince, an enormous redwood tree simply becomes a magnificent palace, complete with arching doorways and large windows, perfect except for its size.

“Wo-woah…” you take a step backwards in wonder, suddenly feeling dizzy. You’re hallucinating, right? An allergic reaction to the bee sting? Or you’ve been kidnapped by a very handsome and definitely psycho magician?

Although… You know it’s irrational, but you can’t help but sense goodness in him. And Mina too.

“Am I dreaming?” You whisper, suddenly realizing that those pointy-ear prosthetics look very real.

“You’re not dreaming.” Prince Jungkook draws closer. He smells like clover and rain and lavender. “Human, all your life you have been good to us. The butterflies and bees for whom you planted flowers, the hummingbirds and squirrels you kept well-fed, and the very earth beneath your feet, which was always left fertile and healthy. I have watched you save my subjects from ill-meaning humans, from injuries, from cold.” He reaches out a hand and lightly touches a finger to your chest, right above your heart. You can feel it beat faster in response. “And for that, I shall reward you with a glimpse into my world. Will you come?”

His eyes are a deep green, and staring into them, you feel like your every sense has been heightened. If you’re dreaming, it’s the most intensely sensory dream you can remember. And if not… “Yes.”

The prince’s eyes flash. “This may hurt a little.”

From his finger on your chest you feel warmth spreading throughout your body. “Ah!” What began as a pleasant warmth morphs into pain; You feel a sharp, searing ache shoot through you. Your ears, eyes, and back especially feel as though they’re burning. “Stop it!”

As soon as the words leave your lips, the pain stops and you collapse onto the moss, which seems bigger now. Your body feels inexplicably light, and when you look back at the prince and Mina, your jaw drops.

“Holy– you have wings!” Tossing your confusion to the side– it’s a dream anyways, it doesn’t have to make sense– you bound over to Mina, who indeed stands before you with beautiful blue and black wings fluttering lightly in the breeze. Prince Jungkook’s wings are silver, almost transparent, and yet so bright they practically glow. “Can I…” you reach forward cautiously. “Can I touch them?”

“Gently,” the prince replies.

“But, your highness–” Mina says, falling silent as you lightly stroke the prince’s wing. They seem to emerge from between his shoulder blades, and though you thought they’d be light and fragile, you can feel a strength in the material. You notice the prince tensing slightly at your touch.

“This is all so beautiful.” You finally take a step back and look beyond the fae in front of you. “Oh, wow.”

The burrows and treehouses have grown in size. The palace that seemed awkwardly small now looms over you, impossibly large. In fact, everything seems much bigger now. You stare at your hands and finally notice that they look tiny in comparison to the humble blade of grass beside you. Nothing’s grown– you and the faeries have shrunken.

“Do you remember some fifteen years ago? You were just a child when you found a turtledove with a broken wing.” Prince Jungkook says with a soft smile.

You do remember the incident– you’d come into the house crying, asking your parents to help you bring it inside.

“You spent days and sleepless nights nursing it back to health. And for years the turtledove would return, wouldn’t it, to say hello?”

“Y-Yes. It always slept in the fig tree outside my window.” The dove stopped visiting four or five years later; you figured it had died.

“That turtledove, lovely human, was me. And this is my kingdom.” He gestures, and the silent forest suddenly bursts into chatter, movement, noise. Hundreds of faeries appear as though they’d been there all along, walking or flying, dressed in all manner of tunics and robes. Most seem to be going about their business, running errands, or doing work. Some stop and stare at you, or greet the prince with a bow. The doors to the redwood palace swing open, and you hear an unfamiliar kind of music fill the air.

“Will you join me?” Prince Jungkook asks, a brilliant smile lighting up his features.

You grin mischievously. “That depends, do I get wings too?”

“Oh, Y/n. Look behind you.”

“What?” You crane your neck and yelp in surprise; In your peripheral vision you can see the edges of black-and-yellow wings, the pattern resembling a cross between a monarch butterfly’s and a bee’s. You focus intently on your back muscles and for a brief moment, you see the tips of your wings flutter.

“Er… your highness, can I keep them?” You ask the prince, hurrying to keep up with him and Mina as they enter the palace. The interior is beautiful, perfectly blending the decor in with the natural color of the wood. Patterns and symbols you don’t recognize are carved into the walls, and well-dressed faeries turn to eye you from around the foyer.

“Call me Jungkook. The wings are yours within the fae world– and you are welcome to stay as long as you’d like, princess.”

Your heart seems to glow. You’re a faery, a real faery! Even if it is just a dream… you never want to wake up.

“Jungkook!” You say his name like it’s a ray of sunshine, laughing at the pure delight flowing through you. The prince stands next to you, his wings catching the light of the lanterns. “Jungkook, thank you. Your world is so wonderful. Thank you for bringing me here.”

Jungkook takes your hand and draws it to him, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. “No, thank you. You’re all goodness, princess. Now, let me show you around.”

New Perspective

part 05/?? “your last bruise”

masterlist

previous part // next part

word count 3.5k

an: im kinda happy about this part. idk to me it’s just kinda beautiful?? that sounds narcissistic but what can I say I was semi drunk and emotional

James Buchanan Barnes knew from the moment his eyes landed on the woman who walked through the quad and knocked the wind out of him, that that was who he was going to marry. If she agreed of course. He spent the next few weeks building the courage to even speak to the nameless beauty he saw nearly every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. It took him well into the Fall semester to say anything, and of course his first interaction with you was rushed apologies since he basically rammed into you at a frat party. And consequently spilled yours, and his drink all over you.

Even at the rehearsal dinner before the wedding, his brother made it a point to remind Bucky about that night. Though everyone laughed, and he forced a smile and sipped at the wine before him, you were sure to grip onto his hand under the table and he looked over at you to see the twinkle in your eye. Bucky caught himself staring as his brother continued, looking over your glowing skin, your perfectly placed hair, the pout in your lips, and the smooth skin your off the shoulder dress exposed. You seemed to catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye and you turned to him and smiled. Bucky brought your hand that covered his own up to his lips and pressed a slow kiss to your fingers, quiet aww’s filling the room as he did so.

At the reception, Bucky watched as you danced with some of his (now yours too) nieces. He rubbed the ring around his finger, it warmed his skin and felt perfect. The whole day and now night was perfect. You were perfect under the glow of the dark and colorful lights, laughing as you danced in circles with the children and Bucky sat there with a smile on his lips. You glanced over at him and he winked, and he watched as you excused yourself with kisses to the girls foreheads before you lifted your dress a bit and walked back over to him. Your shoulders moved in a way that showed every bit of muscle, and the sweet spots that Bucky often nibbled on, and Bucky opened his arms as you sat yourself onto his lap. His hands trailed over your stomach to your back, one hand resting on your thigh that crossed under your dress, and he closed his eyes at the feeling of your fingers running into his hair behind his neck.

“Mr. Barnes,” you had nearly whispered into his ear. “I never knew you to tire so easily.”

“Oh I promise you, I’m not tired Mrs. Barnes,” he responded. He opened his eyes to look up at you and smiled a bit. “Just wanted to watch the most beautiful woman I know enjoy herself.”

One of your hands came forward to glide over his cheek. Your thumb trailed near his chin and he made a point to press a soft kiss against it. “Wouldn’t you rather watch up close?”

You had scratched against the nape of his neck and he groaned a bit, bringing you closer so he could press sweet kisses, and nibble gently on your neck. You giggled at his sentiment and squirmed in his lap when you had felt his hot breath against your ear. “God I fucking love you.”

Bucky Barnes had the perfect life. Marriage was truly wonderful. After the honeymoon the search for the first home you’d share together was first on the list. Neither of you had planned on living together with your two friends, Natasha and Wanda, but after graduating Bucky didn’t want to be separated from your side. So when you both entered the prospective apartment, he knew right away not only by the look on your face, but seeing it for himself that this was going to be it. Your first place together, just the two of you.

Of course until a child came along.

You had managed to turn the empty apartment into a home. Everyday, Bucky got through his work load by looking forward to getting home to you. And the days he got to leave early and you were the one to be staying late, some days he’d either be the one waiting for you, or he’d grab takeout and join you at your job. He’d sneak into your office and when you’d return he’d have it all placed out on the floor neatly, and be there with a smile. There were a number of times you’d sit together, you in between his legs, and he’d stay until you were ready to go home.

So.. Where did it all go wrong?

In all honesty, there was nothing wrong with the marriage. Everything Bucky told Steve wasn’t entirely true. Looking back now, he knew it had started when you left your job. After that, you were either at home with him, or while he was at work you would go and see your friends from time to time. But it turned into a routine, and one that he slowly started to despise. There was no reason.. Well there was one but he shouldn’t have.. God he shouldn’t have done what he did. He shouldn’t have held that against you. Neither of you had any control over what was happening.. And now as he sat alone nursing the whiskey in his hand, alone in the unnecessary penthouse he bought for him and Connie (who left after he decided to end things) he went over every painstaking detail in his mind.

When you sat there on the other couch months ago when Bucky and Connie returned home from lunch, you knocked the wind out of him just like all those years ago. It was a fleeting moment as he had his eyes downcasted, tossing his keys onto the table by the front door, and Connie rambled on about something he wasn’t paying attention to. When she stopped speaking and he followed her gaze to the living room, there you were standing up to meet him. He was struck with awe, until Connie piped up behind him.

“What are you doing here?”

You had glanced between her and then back to Bucky. Your eyes held a wetness in them and you seemed to swallow what he assumed was a lump in the back of your throat. “I came to talk to Buck--”

You paused, and Bucky’s face fell a bit when you corrected yourself. “I came to talk to James.”

“Buck,” Connie whispered behind him. He looked over his shoulder and met her gaze, which was narrow and spiteful. He glanced back at you and nodded a bit to himself. “Go upstairs, Connie.”

“But--”

“Go upstairs.. Please.”

He could practically feel her eyes staring at the back of his head, but after a few seconds she moved around him, making it a note to stomp up the stairs, down the hall, and slam the door shut. Bucky held your gaze, neither dared to blink until silence fell between them. He took a couple steps forward to the living room and you shifted a bit, both watching one another as he slowly undid his cuffs and slid his jacket off his body. As he walked into the living room he rested his jacket onto the back of a couch, and he motioned for you to sit, and nearly in sync you both sat on the same couch, on separate ends from one another.

Bucky watched as you rubbed your hands together and looked around these foreign surroundings, practically looking everywhere but at him. He knew something was weighing on you, something important, because you would have never stepped foot in here if it wasn’t a good cause. He knew you well enough to see the flushed cheeks, nervous movements, and carefully he edged closer without you noticing, until he could place a hand over yours, and you froze almost immediately.

“(Y/N).. What’s going on?” He asked quietly. You looked from his hand over yours, up his arm to his face. You searched his eyes for something, searched his face and just him for some kind of clarification. Your lips moved to speak but nothing came out, so Bucky lifted his hands, both his flesh and his prosthetic, to engulf your face, using his thumbs to glide over your soft and familiar skin. Bucky felt his heart swell when your eyes closed at his touch, taking a shaky breath in and leaning into the palm of his false hand. “You can tell me anything.. Please--”

“I’m pregnant,” you whispered. Though Bucky still kept his hands on your face, his thumb stopped stroking you. When you opened your eyes to meet his, he must have had a shocked expression on his face. Because he was just that: shocked. In awe. Dumbfounded even. He didn’t have any words to offer, and your lip trembled just slightly. “Please say something.”

“You’re pregnant,” he repeated in a whisper back to you. When you nodded in the palms of his hand Bucky smiled, he couldn’t help but adjust himself so he could face you more, running his hand down your face as he rummaged over your revelation. You smiled at him, and he brought you in for an embrace.

Bucky was going to be a father. You were going to be a mother. Just like you had both talked about for years at that point. As his hand laced into your hair, and your hands ran across his back, he looked up with tears in his eyes and his gaze landed on Connie, who stood silently on the runway that overlooked the living room. Her glare was evident, staring at him like she was condemning him to something.

Maybe he had done that to himself already.

Bucky separated from you and when you saw his fallen expression, he smiled solemnly at you. “You’ll be a great mother.”

He stood from his position, walking over the shelf that held all of his alcohol. He suddenly felt the need to down something, and he felt your eyes burning into him. He poured a nice hefty dose of whiskey, and threw it back with no problem. He heard you shuffle up, you must have been standing now. “This is what we wanted Buck..”

“This is what you wanted,” he countered. His throat burned at the lie, his eyes were soon to follow, he knew it. He heard you take a couple steps forward.

“Bucky.. James, I--”

“Don’t you fucking get it?” He snapped, turning around to face you. Your mouth closed, holding back what he could assume was a cry. He had to force the awful expression onto his face and narrowed his glare. “There is no you and me anymore. Just you.. And I don’t want a part of this.”

Bucky felt his heart break that day. He knew what his lie had done to you, the tears that slid down your cheeks and the tearful goodbye you gave him. He thought about it everyday after, and when he got the call from the hospital.. He was devastated. When Steve told him to leave, when he learned about Steve’s feelings, Bucky thinks it snapped him out of it. He was angry at himself for being a fucking idiot, he was angry his best friend had fallen for the person Bucky had fallen for too, and even more upset that he couldn’t be there with you. For you. You deserved that at least.

Here he was, in the early hours of the morning he was trying to drown himself in his own thoughts. It wasn’t working, even his third drink in, he was only pulled from his memories when there was a knock on his door. He grumbled a bit, he had been ignoring Steve’s messages for two weeks now, and he made his way over to the door, pulling it open and ready to toss the liquid at his so-called-friend.

But what stood before him made him freeze.

You stood there, hands shoved into a jacket and stood in a position ready to bolt if he hadn’t opened the door. But when you two came face to face you faced him straight-on, and offered a nod. “James..”

“(Y/N).. Hey, uh.. What are you doing here?” He asked, hiding the cup behind the wooden door and you glanced down to your feet.

“Well I was hoping we could talk, actually.”

His heart fluttered. Bucky didn’t hesitate offering a nod and muttering and of course, not to sound too desperate. He stepped to the side and you carefully entered, painfully aware of what happened the last time you were in this place. The deeper into his territory you walked, Bucky was quick to hide the glass on the kitchen counter out of sight. He followed you and you two sat in a similar position on the same couch from a couple months before, on opposite ends and in silence. Bucky cleared his throat, leaning forward to rest his arms on his legs.

“Would you like a, uh, drink? Water?”

“No, I’m fine.. I’m not staying long,” you replied. Bucky nodded a bit.

“Oh,” was all he could seem to say. You watched him, now he was the one sitting there, rubbing his hands together. You looked down at your own before you were able to pull your thoughts together.

“I know I shouldn’t really be here, what with us starting our hearings soon but.. But there was something I was hoping we could settle just between us.. Without the lawyers,” you said. Bucky had looked over to watch you speak, and nodded along with you.

“Of course. Anything for you,” Bucky said.

You had caught the notion, the reference back to another time when it held a much more sincere meaning. You looked back down to your own hands and let out a quiet sigh. “I.. I want to give up the lease on the apartment.. But since we both signed it, we both have to be there to put in the 30 day notice. Sign the papers and all.”

Bucky blinked at you, his mind whirling at your request. “(Y/N).. You love that place. Why.. Why would you want to leave?”

You smiled a bit to yourself, but to Bucky it was sad. You finally looked over at him, and shook your head. “I can’t be there anymore, Buck.. That was our home. Where we were supposed to build a family and.. And that’s not happening anymore.. You moved on, Buck, but.. But it’s time I had a chance to do that too. And I can’t do that there, not when you’re everywhere that I look.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. Bucky listened to your words and felt his throat burn the more you continued. But now that he heard you bare your soul and heart to him, all he could do was apologize. “Whenever you need me to be there.. I’ll be there.”

“Why d-didn’t you come.. Why didn’t you come and see me and the baby?”

It was so quiet it made him stretch to try and hear you. He was closer, close enough to grab ahold of your shaky hands but he didn’t dare to. He was going to answer when a knock on his door forced him to stop and sigh. He excused himself and stood, stomping just a bit to the front door to see who the hell was interrupting this tender moment, and pulled it open and was nearly pushed to the side.

Well would you fucking look at that.

“I gotta talk to you, Buck,” Steve said, pushing past Bucky into the penthouse. Bucky stared after him, Steve turning on the ball of his feet and backing up deeper and deeper into an already fucked situation. “You’ve been ignoring me and god damn it I need to say my--”

Steve spun around to face the living room and froze in his place. When you heard the familiar voice, you stood and stared dumbfounded to see your.. Well you didn’t know what to call him frankly, but you stared at him, Steve stared at you, and Bucky closed the front door and shuffled over to the both of them.

“--peace,” Steve finally finished. He was struck in awe, shock, his heart pounded hard enough he could feel it in his ears. Steve promptly closed his mouth, and Bucky crossed his arms as he came up to his pal’s side.

“Steve?” You asked. Of course it was him but you blinked and motioned between the two men before you. “You two know each other?”

Before Steve could answer, Buck nodded and took a step forward. “Oh did he never tell you he was my best friend? Supposed to be the best man at our wedding?”

Your attention went from Bucky after he finished speaking to Steve and gaped a bit before your brows furrowed in confusion. “You were.. You were the best friend I never met, who moved away before we got engaged.. Steve that was you?”

“Yes,” Steve whispered. Your eyes looked over him, now put together like the Steve you had met what seemed so long ago. But you started to shake your head in denial, and Steve took a couple steps closer to you. “Please.. Please listen to me, angel--”

“Don’t call me that,” you interjected. Steve stopped in his tracks, close enough to where he towered over you, and he swallowed the lump forming in his throats. This close he could see your eyes water, and see the betrayal that stared back at him. “What was all that.. Pity? You did all that for.. For fucking pity?”

Steve, as well as Bucky who watched on, had never seen you so angry. Disappointed. Maybe even betrayed. With Steve you shared a part of yourself in your darkest of times, and in your eyes it was all a ruse. A faked friendship or whatever it was turning into. Steve shook his head, and tried to take another step closer.

“I swear to you.. I didn’t know at first,” Steve tried to reason. You stood there, not moving as he edged closer, holding his gaze before he came to a stop before you. Steve slowly reached his hand out to cup your cheek and your breath hitched. Bucky’s eyes narrowed at the sight behind them. “I didn’t put it together until he showed up at the hospital and--”

“What do you mean showed up at the hospital?” You asked. Steve stopped his explanation and could see your brows furrow again in confusion. You looked behind him at Bucky who still stood with his arms crossed, but a soft expression when you looked his way. “Bucky you came?”

“Of course I came,” Bucky said. Your attention went back to Steve, and calmly reached up and took his hand off your skin. Stever started to shake his head, but you beat him to speak first.

“Steve did you stop him from seeing me?”

It was a simple question, but Steve still felt his hands get sweaty in anticipation and nervousness. You had released his hand, looking at him with those fucking eyes he knew he couldn’t resist and he slowly nodded. “Yes.. Yes I guess I did.. But I thought it would be better if.. If he wasn’t there! It had hit me everything he had said about you and--”

“Stop,” you told him. Steve’s expression fell when he saw your eyes water. Your eyes shifted over his face and you grimaced a fake smile to stop your bottom lip from trembling. “That wasn’t your decision to make Steve.”

“I know.. I know it wasn’t and I’m so sorry about that.. But I just.. I care about you. More than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time. You made me feel like me again and I--”

“Please don’t,” you whispered. A couple tears had slid down your cheeks, and Steve stopped immediately. His confession was edging more into your heart and you couldn’t take it right now. He didn’t dare reach out to wipe the tears that rolled down your cheeks, he had to watch as you disappeared around him. When you were out of his view, his eyes fell down to the floor, feeling a tear fall down his face and into his beard.

“I’ll let you know when to come sign the papers,” you said to Bucky. Bucky had lightly placed a hand to your lower back, escorting you to the door and nodded at your departing comment. When the door closed behind you, and he was now alone with his best friend, he turned back around to face the angry stare of Steve.

Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes were about to have the test of a lifetime in regards to their friendship.

- - - - - - - - - - -

taglist - message me to be added or feel free to add yourself!!

@americasass91 @aerynchromie @royale-skeleton-key @sleepretreat @amillcitygirl @littleprincessma @jubileestreetv @this-dipshit @iwik3it @loganrwebb​  @heyyouwiththeassbutt​ @whos-too-bi​ @little-dark-empress​ @heykarsyn​ @snarky--starky​ @kismet-rising @feelmyroarrrr @weasleyisourjedi @chewymoustachio​ @marinettepotterandplagg​

Fic Excerpt: FE:3H Modern AU

So I’m doing a thing. This is just a first draft. I think I want to up the ante on this and make Dimitri’s drunken tirade (not featured) much, much worse. As a matter of fact, I think Edelgard and Dimitri are going to be drunk. Also I’m so down for Estranged but trying to reconcile Edelgard and Dimitri. Also Claude is there. Idk I would like someone to help me beta this. In this scene: Edelgard’s Father (who’s still alive btw) has thrown an extravagant Christmas party by way of celebrating his daughter getting her Ph.D. Warning: Copious amounts of Alcohol.

“Staring at him isn’t going to make it less awkward.” Edelgard winces. She should know that Claude is always watching. Sure enough, she finds his old classmate sipping a martini and sitting at the table he’s clearly not assigned to. “Just go over there, this is painful to watch.” Claude tosses back what’s left of his martini. 

“Then stop watching.” Edelgard chides irritably. 

“Oh come on, you literally told me that you’ve been...” He straightened himself in a poor imitation of her, “...thinking about him more than necessary.” Edelgard scoffs and grabs a glass of champagne from the nearest waiter. Claude is never wrong. Dimitri looks lost, holding a rocks glass and glancing about at people he doesn’t know anymore. Edelgard wonders if that a side effect of his medication. “This is the perfect opportunity to nag him in a completely inconspicuous way. Just picture it: The prodigal brother…”

“Step-brother.” Edelgard corrects.

“Look, I can’t create a narrative if you’re going to interrupt.” Claude replies sourly. Edelgard has to admit, Dimitri is at least trying. He’s wearing a suit but seems to have lost his tie. She swears he walked in with one. He clearly stopped cutting his hair but has the decency to tie it into a messy ponytail. He’s drinking something dark from a rocks glass. That’s strange...she thought he was on medication. Losing an eye isn’t something your body just gets over. “Just go over there, Edie. He won’t bite.” Edelgard doubts that. She takes a look at her champagne glass and downs it. “Attagirl!” She ignores Claude and marches over to Dimitri like a woman with a goddamn Ph.D. 

“Hello, Dimitri.” She says, almost sternly. Dimitri whips around and seems shocked to see her. Good lord, this is her father’s party. Did he forget why he was here? “How are you?” It’s a loaded question with many answers. She’s just going to trust him to pick the most polite one. 

“Fine.” He says quickly. “Just um...just fine.” At a loss, Dimitri oscillates and Edelgard has to clench her fist from rolling her eyes. Must he be so helplessly awkward? Nevertheless, her wayward stepbrother seems to find his footing. “And you?”

“Happy.” She says, hyper-aware that her tone suggests otherwise. Dimitri pauses in his drinking but does her the courtesy of keeping his mouth shut. “Over the moon, in fact. It took five years to get my Ph.D. I move into my new office after New Year’s.” Remain cordial. Deep breaths. There’s nothing to be angry about. Yet.

“That’s great, El.” Oh god. “That’s...that’s really great. Congratulations. I wish I could’ve been there at your graduation ceremony.” That make Edelgard pause.

“That’s right.” She says. “You weren’t at the graduation…” She ponders, leaving “why weren’t you there?” unasked. 

“I was in vision therapy.” Dimitri explains. “Even though my sight has mostly recovered, driving is still difficult in certain conditions and my friends don’t want me driving at night especially. I can’t exactly get a ride share outside of town without it costing quite a bit.” Edelgard can’t help but feel a tiny bit guilty. She didn’t send him invitation. 

“You have a ride tonight, though, right?” She asks. Dimitri leans into the mundane conversation like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.

“Yes, yes, of course.” He says. “Dedue would kill me if I tried to drive by myself in the snow.” Edelgard has heard of Dedue many times but has only seen him a few times and hears him speak even less. He’s the person teaching Dimitri how to act like a normal human being. The lessons must be working because to charges through these awkward pauses like a champ. Though she realizes that his glass is full again.

“What are you drinking?” She asks a little too innocently.

“Whiskey.” Dimitri says simply before taking a rather loud gulp. Oh no. She’s beginning to see what’s going on here. She knew the open bar was a bad idea.

“Are you not on medication?” She asks. She’s about as transparent as a clean window but she just can’t help herself. She can’t let a man on pain medication get drunk at her - well...her father’s...party. 

“Not today.” That seems unlikely. “The socket is empty, so no prosthetic fittings, no headaches, no sharp flashes or phantom eye twitching. It’s almost like I was never born with one.” There’s a dangerous edge to her brother’s voice. He takes two big swallows and paces his drink back on the bar. “The doctor says it’ll be like I never lost it.” He says a bit quieter. She almost doesn’t hear him over the jazzy rendition of Sleigh Bells. His glass is full again. Wow, that bartender really isn’t paying attention, is she? Dimitri leans back and says. “Thank you, could you get my sister some more champagne?” Edelgard looks down at her glass. It’s empty. Has she really been sipping at it this whole time? She accepts the next full glass with a quiet thank you. “Are you going to be in town until New Year’s?”

“Yes, I am. Dad’s selling the old house.” Edelgard replies. Dimitri takes a few drinks of his whiskey. How many is that now, three? “You should slow down.” She says disparagingly. “Even if you aren’t on medication, that can’t be good for you.” 

“I get a list of what I should do from my doctor everyday, El.” Dimitri counters. “I know exactly what I should and shouldn’t be doing.” That might’ve been a bridge too far but four glasses of champagne tells her it doesn’t matter. 

“Well now you have one more person telling you. Perhaps that’ll make it stick.” Someone leaves the bar, sensing the tension. Dimitri straightens himself up like he’s bracing himself. She doesn’t appreciate the implication that she’s something to be withstood instead of respected. She gets enough of that from her colleagues. She won’t tolerate it from her so-called brother. “Your recovery is important. Your body has to be sound to heal itself. You’re not going to grow another eye but what if it doesn’t heal properly?” Dimitri opens his mouth to respond but she cuts him off. “It’s Christmas, Dimitri. Don’t waste it at the bar. Honestly, they haven���t even served the food. Pull yourself together.” She leans over, making eye contact with the bartender. “Cut him off.” With that, she struts off. 

Clause watches from his seat. That...didn’t go as planned.

!!ENDGAME SPOILERS AHEAD!! Since I did it last year with Infinity War and now that I’ve seen Endgame twice here are my ramblings:

But before we begin apparently I accidentally predicted Endgame’s title during my IW ramblings and then completely forgot about it...

-so like that friggin beginning tho poor Clint like the entire movie. Agreeing with a favorite YouTube movie reviewer of mine, this was really Clint’s shining movie despite his uh- downward turn for a bit there -but on the bright side I’m glad his older kids’ names are canon now; like legit I thought those (Cooper and Lila) were made up by the fanfictioneers. Maybe they were and the writers were like ‘huh okay less work for us- yoink’ -then Nebula and Stark playing table football that was adorable. The shiny paper reminded me of that one Chris Hemsworth gif you know the one of him making a face at his reflection? -and heck yes Carol coming in hot to save the day what a legend -woohoo go get Thanos time -and he’s just in a frickin farm in a T-shirt (a T-SHIRT?!?) collecting some fruits and starting a new YouTube cooking channel -“what’s up half of the universe today we’re making weird bumpy fruit stew” -but heck yeah Thor cut off that guy’s head -and then just like whoa five years later. I usually can’t stand time jumps but it’s alright. It really gives a perspective of ‘yeah the world isn’t better with half its population. Everyone’s so sad’ -good job of Steve starting a therapy group tho even if he doesn’t take his own advice -I can’t believe a rat saved Scott talk about lucky -unless that rat was actually Loki -just sayin -and the bike kid: “wouldn’t you like to know weatherboy” -I forget how old Cassie was in Antman and the Wasp but +5 years to that I guess. She looks a bit too old to me but what do I know. I’m very glad she didn’t disappear though cuz I love Scott very much and I don’t want him to go through that -tbh Scott saved everyone cuz he had the time travel idea in the first place. I love an optimistic boy -UHBUHH I HAVENT TALKED ABOUT CAROL’S HAIRCUT YET UM HECK YEAH -it’s very good I’m very gay -anyway -I liked Nebula’s prominence in this movie she’s growing on me but of course it doesn’t take a lot on account of me loving robots (cyborgs?) so much -getting the band back together! -baby Morgan Stark/Potts was Very Good -ohmygod Thor -so chub -I was annoyed being without beefy Thor the first time, but rewatching it though I thought his Look was maybe not only reflecting his depression (cuz yeah) but maybe mythological Thor? Like I’m just throwing spaghetti at the wall but maybe in actual Norse myth Thor was (well, actually a redhead) that chub/beef combo but he did have the fluffier beard that MCU Thor had this time. Idk, like I said- spaghetti -Valkyrie’s back! Love her -they call her that though? Isn’t that what she is- like her job? Does she not have a name? Could have sworn it was Brunhilda or something -and Korg and the sharp bug guy are back too! Love them -friggin playing Fortnite -jokes aside though I do love that deep look into Thor’s guilt throughout the whole movie. Like he thought killing Thanos would just make everything better but it didn’t and just couldn’t deal and would rather drink to forget -Clint’s guilt was also interesting, like showing that ‘oh god he could really go there, he could get this bad given the circumstance’ -just Blade Runner-ing all around Tokyo -I haven’t seen Blade Runner but it has neon lights and rain right? -but yeah I do like the “the Snap took away good people and bad people but like it could have just took bad people and since it didn’t I’ll have to instead” -sad boy -he was very uh ‘Magnus rushes in’ if you will, during this movie. Not caring for a lot of it if he lived or died cuz he’d lost so much -god he was good in this movie -anyway -I also called the time travel:

-it still doesn’t completely make sense to me though? Like time travel is confusing enough but adding in a multiverse just makes it even more so -I loved the revisiting the old movies! -low key wanted an Age of Ultron revisit so we could have OMG we could have seen Pietro again -still on the #bringbackpietromaximoff train guys -but anyway we could have seen some good Wanda scenes and also my boy Vision again -but it did make more sense to get the three in NY at the same time -it was real cool to see the bald wizard lady (Minerva from TAZ Amnesty) defending the wizard building during 2012 Avengers- like that is so believable and now we can watch 2012 Avengers and be like “oh hey the wizards were there” -“that is America’s a**” I love how much Scott hero-worships Steve like we saw that in Civil War and yes it’s so funny and I love it its great -Steve vs Steve fight?? Great -“I can do this all day.” “Yeah yeah I know.” -And again, we can totally watch 2012 Avengers again and be like ‘yes meeting with Secretary Pierce and the other Shield guys- this is totally believable, it’s exactly what would have happened we just didn’t see it.’ -the elevator scene! I thought for sure Steve was gonna do the “now before we begin does anyone want to get out” but the “hail hydra” was just as good -“they’re hydra but we don’t know that yet” “they Look like bad guys!!” -and I guess Loki using the Tesseract to escape during that scene is setup for a... tv show? He’s gonna be wreaking havoc through time and space I guess?? Glad he’s back though -anyway revisiting more movies -friggin Guardians 1 -Quill singing Come and Get Your Love really badly cuz all we heard was the actual song and OhmyGOD that was hilarious -I’m glad Rhodey and Nebula got on a team cuz they can be prosthetic buddies -but did Nebula just not tell Clint and Nat that one of them would have to die for the Soul Stone? Or did they know and just not wanna talk about it till it came up? -TBH I though the ‘lose someone you love for the stone’ requirement would have been filled by both Clint and Nat already cuz Clint could have been like “um my dude do you even know how much I’ve lost already??” -apparently not though -Nat’s hair was great for the time travel parts I liked the red fade to white -though it was a sad and intense moment with Clint and Nat deciding who of them had to die it was also sweet cuz you can see how much they care for each other -and I was- well not glad but I really wanted Clint to see his family again -not that The Avengers weren’t his family -that friggin line “did she have family?” “Yeah. Us.” GOD -and then there’s that whole rigamarole with double Nebulas and oh Gamora’s back too -again time travel/the whole multiverse thing apparently doesn’t make sense to me so I’m just gonna gloss over it as much as I can until I can get more into it later -anyway the other time travel to the 1950s! -cool callback to Winter Soldier like you could see Zola going into the bunker -like So many people were there at the Camp Lehigh (idk if that’s how it’s spelled) like Everybody was there -good good moments with Tony and his dad -I thought it would have been cool for Tony to have given his dad the inspiration for his own name but oh well. Maybe that wouldn’t have even worked with time travel and all -Steve’s prank call to Hank Pym that was funny “um the box is glowing” -but oh geez the scene where Steve finds Peggy oh god when he goes in the room with her name on the door my roommate and I were watching it together the first time I saw it and both of us went “ohhhhhhh oh nooooooo” -cuz like that’s the first time he’s seen her since he went in the ice! Or at least seen her how he remembers and not old in Civil War hhhhhhhh GOD -I think seeing her there was a factor in his decision later but I’ll get to that later this is a long heck movie -oh and the OG human Jarvis showed up! I like him, I only saw season 1 of Peggy’s show but I remember liking him a lot -but yeah back to the present unless- well I’m sure I missed something -OH FRICK THOR’S BIT -I can’t Believe they went back to The Dark World -tbh I actually like The Dark World I think it’s a good movie but it’s not universally liked -callback to the scene with Loki tossing the cup in the air ahaha that one was always good -so if they had Rocket’s pokey device during that movie the whole plot of that movie could have been avoided? -anyway um Frigga?? What a queen. Literally -I loved “I was raised by witches I can see with more than my eyes” -she’s really what Thor needed there but god the “she dies today” poor boy -she’s so good though -I loved that ‘measure of a hero is being who you are not who you’re supposed to be’ Yes -and the “I’m still worthy!!!!” Thor needed a win -“eat a salad!” -Now back to the present -Stark-Tech can apparently channel Infinity Stones? And doesn’t need a special heart of a dying star and giant dwarfs to forge a special gauntlet um okay -“what do I have flowing through my veins right now?” “Cheese whiz?” -Bruce is so good though so strong I loved the “I was made for this” -so sweet when Laura called Clint! Yes! Everyone’s really back! -and double Nebula just Had to ruin everything tho -before I get into the final battle- I wonder how much of the time travel scenes were reused from old footage and how much was reshoots with the same actors/costumes/sets? -anyway -um rude blowing up the compound -and god the water scenes were so stressful the first time. Water/specifically-about-to-drown scenes always freak me out. Also trapped under ice and squished under something scenes -Clint finding the gauntlet and getting away from Thanos’ cronies! Every time anyone was running with the gauntlet all I could think of was that one goof from TAZ Balance in Petals to the Metal- Taako’s “Grab the Gauntlet and don’t look back” friggin

-also when Steve, Thor, and Tony all go to confront Thanos who is waiting for them, there’s a specific song playing in the background: https://youtu.be/H_9mnO_NOjk?t=120 (it starts at around 2:00) and you’ll hear this series of deep bell sounds? For the life of me- that specific sound sounds SO FAMILIAR and I can’t friggin place it. I can’t decide if it just reminds me of the Wind Dance song that plays in TAZ Balance whenever the Hunger shows up (which is fitting tbh)? Or if it sounds like some boss battle music that I can’t place? Maybe from Pokémon or Mystery Dungeon? I just can’t remember. It sounds real cool tho -but uh yeah UM -STEVE!! WORTHY!!!! -I mean we all be knowing but! -such a cool scene. I started clapping the first time I watched and others in the theatre joined in -not as cool as when Vision lifted the hammer but I’m biased -but things look dark at this point and I can’t remember if it’s at this part or one one next but there’s this real cool wide shot, this real nice tableau of Steve on a hill or something and this light behind him as he faces Thanos’ army and yeah it just looks real good. Like a good computer background I’d like to have or a poster -but yeah then! -“ON YOUR LEFT!” -Yay!!! Portals open and ‘oh yeah! Everyone’s back now! We have friends to help us fight!’ -gave me some good TAZ Balance episode 68 vibes. Could have called for a cool Lup-esque speech tho from Steve since he’s so good at that- “You see this? This is scary. But we can do this.” -EXCEPT -now we reach the part of my rambling where it turns into somewhat of a rant -because I’M annoyed but only for a specific reason that won’t affect the average moviegoer since Apparently not everyone’s a fan... -cuz Literally the only person who doesn’t show up -is my boy Vision -I mean Yes -I Know he was one of the people who died before Thanos snapped -but my hopes were Way Way Up that he’d come back somehow -and UHHH APPARENTLY I WILL JUST HAVE TO BE DISAPPOINTED -everyone Else came back??? Why not my boy?? -he wasn’t even mentioned despite being So Important in IW -except vaguely when Wanda pulled a real Taako in Balance episode 67 “You f**king took everything from me!!!” -she could have took out Thanos on her own for sure like he had to call in the big guns just to stop her from doing just that -strongest Avenger heck yeah -and Carol came too! -friggin Star Wars Episode 8-ing up in here shooting through Thanos’ spaceship that was So Cool -and the Girl Squad! Girl Squad! part!!!! Yes!!!!! So good!!! Protec small Peter! -somewhere, Nat smiled -Spider-Man’s instakill that was great -I loved the ‘pass the gauntlet’ part though -when Clint handed it off to T’Challa, T’Challa called his name and that was good cuz callback to Civil War when Clint said “we haven’t met yet. I’m Clint.” And T’Challa was like “I don’t care”. He does care now! Lol! -Carol just friggin Beast mode Thanos can’t even touch her he had to pluck the Power Stone from the gauntlet to even knock her back! We stan! A legend! -and oof Tony to Stephen Strange “14 million and one we win? Is this it?” “If I tell you it won’t be” -cuz oof -it really was a good ending for Tony though -he started it all way friggin back in 2008 -and the “I am Iron Man” Yes -and also I think it was in Age of Ultron that part when Tony was talking to Fury and it was like “I saw them all dead and that wasn’t even the worst of it” “the worst was that you didn’t” -so it’s very fitting and so so good -lining up with and going against Howard’s earlier “the greater good rarely outweighed my personal interest” and proving that Tony really was so heroic -so like it’s sad but it’s fitting and not like an unsatisfying end for his character -and it’s not like he won’t be friggin mentioned ever again or anything he’s friggin Iron Man he’s already in the new Spider-Man trailer -(no shade at all in the ‘not begin mentioned at all’ category...) -anyway oh wait -oh god Peter Parker tear my heart out again sad boy he’s so good at making us sad when he’s sad about Tony -yeah anyway again -loved the “proof that Tony Stark has a heart” disc from the first movie that was good -oh and so like the camera is moving through all the different groups of people on the dock and moving towards the house -(just an interlude but CAROL IN A SUIT UM YES) -there’s a shot of some random kid! And I didn’t know who it was until I was leaving the theatre and another guy heard me and my dad talking and he told us! It’s the kid from Iron Man 3! Now That was a nice throwback -but yeah then it gets into the I guess TAZ Balance Rebuilding Year-esque scenes -which were all Very good! Good family scenes; Hope and Scott and Cassie, and T’Challa and Shuri and their mom, and that scene with Wanda and Clint was very good BUT -would it have been So Hard to do just a small scene of maybe somewhere in Wakanda like Shuri helping to rebuild Vision with all that vibranium while Wanda was there watching? Maybe even from his old body?? Would that have been so hard?? Just Something to give me hope?? -why are all these movies So Against Wanda being happy??? -but yeah almost to the end -more time travel with Steve going to return the stones! I’m glad Sam and Bucky got more lines I love them both -but what I really loved was that Steve got his Magnus ending -not in a “how does Magnus die” way but a “how does Steve live” way -love me a good happy ending esp if it involves dancing like that’s All he wanted -like I said earlier, I think just seeing Peggy again was enough for Steve to be like ‘oh it doesn’t matter if I can’t live without war action (a la what Ultron said in AoU) i do really want that life with Peggy and I can do that now’ -it was just Good -but it does raise a few time travel questions -like if Our Steve went back to the 1940s (he did go to the 40s right?) does that mean that there’s another Steve still stuck in the ice? I would say there can only be one Steve at a time but that was proven wrong in the very same movie. There’s gonna be something to do with multiverse in the next Spider-Man which will of course just make everything all the more confusing but still... I guess if I don’t think about it too much it’s not such a big deal -it was also very fitting that there weren’t any after credits scenes. It reminded me of the end of TAZ Balance with the announcer (Junior) not announcing the final episode since he said in 68 that we’d have to see what happens in the last one together. Idk but I liked that -and I liked the signatures of all the OG avengers! That was like them signing off on this huge thing they did, which is really what happened! This huge friggin 12 year thing! -wait was that what the 12 meant all along?? The 12%, the 12 minuets? We may never know -but anyway back to the most important part to me -my boy Vision

-I was so naive  

-like I’ve been told there’s gonna be a tv show or something but like -come on -you could have given me Something -I feel like Griffin in the Fallout 4 Monster Factory after Roachie despawned “nothing?!? You leave me nothing!?!” -so like all in all it was a good movie a Really Good movie I liked it a lot -that Time Heist- I love time travel plots. I already had some of my next DND campaign planned with time travel being a big part- I hope my players don’t think I’m stealing lol -it was very enjoyable and so so good to wrap up this huge thing and put a bow on this story arc. Which I guess can open the door for experimentation now? Which would be kinda cool -Scarlet Witch movie maybe and my dreams can come true??? I can be happy??? Please -I just- one little scene could have left me less disappointed and given me just a little hope but anyone who’s not in the ScarletVision boat will not be disappointed by this movie (cuz the deaths [Tony and Nat] are heroic and satisfying to me, so I’m not not satisfied by that) -it wasn’t Their movie but still. Let me complain -It really was really good though -And I guess I only get motivated to write fanfic like once a year (or whenever new ScarletVision content is in a movie though um the Vision part of that was uh nonexistent) so like my Complements fanfic is in the process of growing a fourth part so look out for that I guess -and if you’re still here reader, I hope you enjoyed my long long ramblings

-and in conclusion:

Mouth of the Devil {Pt. 1(?)}

@mushroomminded Remember that idea I had with Austin, Milo, and Cody? Them going ghost hunting and someone disappearing and then turns out there's a demon among them? Yea, neither do I, so here's something toooooootally unrelated!! Enjoy!! :D

This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't. Supposed. To happen. Austin’s mind runs on repeat as he frantically calls Cody’s name, trying not to trip on loose boards in this ancient, godforsaken demon-house. He can hear Milo’s voice shouting for their missing friend in another room, and he can’t help thinking this is his fault. Ana had always been one of the shadier specters that liked to linger around him, but he had thought her trustworthy. So when she suggested they check out this place and find the poltergeist who had haunted it, he’d followed along, eager to go ghost hunting with his new and only (living) friends.

How could he be so stupid.

They hadn’t even been there for more thirty minutes and Cody’s already gone missing, meanwhile Milo and Austin have been going through hell trying to find him. Milo nearly lost his hand and now has a nasty gash on it, poorly bandaged with a scrap of a dusty old table cloth; Austin’s gotten his prosthetic suck in cracks in the floor twice now; and both boys are covered head to toe in scrapes and bruises from their attempts to navigate the rickety, dangerous halls and stairways. Eventually, they had decided to split up in their search, leading to the current situation. Austin can’t help thinking that this whole ordeal feels off, and the feeling leaves a terrible taste in his mouth. The house is pretty big, with two floors and at least five rooms on the top level, seven rooms on ground level. Plus there’s an attic and an eerie basement. He desperately hopes they won’t be going into that basement.

A loud clatter to his left grabs Austin’s attention and he stiffens, an anxious shudder wracking his body. Oh god, oh god, oh no, oh no... He hesitantly marches down the dark hallway using his phone as a flashlight, Milo’s cries turning into background noise as he gets further away from him. Austin’s dealt with demons before, he’s been in nerve-wracking situations, but he’s never had someone else to worry about and he hopes to whatever god may be watching that Cody and Milo will be okay, but he has no idea what will happen. He traces the source of the commotion to a room at the end of the hall, where he can hear repetitive, dull thumping coming from the other side of the door. To say his hand doesn’t shake while he turns the doorknob would be a blatant and obvious lie. He has a feeling he knows what he’s going to see and it already makes him sick to his stomach.

There he is.

Cody’s forehead hits the wall with sickening rhythmic thudding sounds, blood dripping and pooling beneath him; his glasses broken and tossed aside. He’s turned away from Austin; hasn’t noticed him come in yet; and Austin’s voice is caught in his throat. He knows -- knows -- that he definitely shouldn’t say anything. The smartest thing to do here would be to keep his mouth shut, slowly back away, and go find Milo so they can tackle this together. But his legs seem to be rooted to the spot, paralyzed, and he feels an overwhelming need to say something.

“C-Cody?” he croaks, and the other whips around to face him.

Unnatural, deep red eyes seem to stare into him, blinking curiously. Cody -- or what’s left of him -- doesn’t say anything back at first, then he gasps and there’s a shaky, “Austin?” Cody slowly, awkwardly clambers to his feet, his head injury seeming to have destroyed his sense of balance. “Austin?” he repeats, slowly trudging towards the brunette. Austin feels an urge to back away, but he’s still paralyzed. Everything about this situation is different than if it were just him, and his head is sending him mixed signals. He simply doesn’t know what to do as Cody practically gets right up in his face, staring into his eyes, inspecting him.

“Cody...” he croaks, tearing up from the sheer anxiety of everything. “Cody it’s me, Austin -- are you in there?”

Cody takes a step backwards, blinks again. Then recollection seems to light up his face. “Austin!” he shouts, like the name is some brilliant discovery. “Austin it’s me! I’m in here!” Austin draws in a shuddering breath, the tears overflowing and a shaky smile crossing his face.

“Oh god,” he sobs, “I-I thought... I thought we’d lost you... And we just met a month ago!” Concern laces Cody’s features and he places a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Dude, are you okay?”

Staring into those red eyes with his own teary ones, warning sirens are going off in Austin’s mind, a thousand questions still remaining unanswered, but he disregards them for the sheer relief he’s feeling. “Yeh... Yeah, I’m. Okay, I...” Austin heaves another sob. “This is all wrong, and different, I just... It’s hard...to process. I’ve only ever looked after myself really, when my moms couldn’t, and... Oh god...” He presses his hands to his eyes, overwhelmed and desperately trying to wipe away the tears now stinging his eyes. He feels Cody wrap his arms around him in an embrace, Cody’s touch strikingly cold on his skin and okay, now that he’s gotten that out he’s starting to come back to his senses. However, he returns the hug, grateful for the contact.

“I was so worried about you, Cody, and so’s Milo -- we should find him...” Austin sighs, pulling away slightly. “What happened when you disappeared? When I came in just now, you were acting possessed...” He frowns, those warning sirens in his head growing louder. “Is it... Is it a demon? Because, I started to get this feeling after you just up and vanished and I...”

Cody nods and cuts him off, “Yeah, there’s no poltergeist here. What we’re dealing with -- and, really, what’s inside me right now -- is a demon. I’ve been trying to fight it Austin, I’ve been fighting it so hard and I don’t know how much longer I can. Please, just find Milo, get out, and get Kathy. She’ll know what to do.”

Austin’s brow furrows. “I -- what?” he sputters. “Kathy? Wh-Who’s... But, Cody, I can’t just leave you here! I -- I -- I’m so, so sorry. I should never have suggested this. I never should’ve listened to that dumb ghost. I’m so sorry...” Cody shushes him and pulls Austin into another hug.

“Austin...” He begins sweetly. “You really should be sorry.”

“I... I’m sorry, what?”

“You should be sorry. This is all your fault after all. Now, you don’t get a shot at redemption.”

Before Austin gets a chance to reply he’s forcefully thrown across the room. And as he’s airborn, his heart stops for a moment at the sight of an enormous, inky mass standing over Cody. Then he collides with the wall and his consciousness slips away.

-------------------------------------------

(This might be a two-parter, idk yet, because I kind have an idea for Milo’s POV of all this and two endings -- one that goes great, happy endings and stuff, and one where everything just gets WORSE. Buuuut, this is also my first time writing something in a while, so I’m not too confident in it. But yeah. Hope you enjoyed!)

New Balance: (1) Sleep Aide

new balance masterlist

Summary: Boxing AU. Bucky Barnes, once someone sunlight dulled in comparison to, is angry. At himself, at his metal arm, at the US Army, at the National Boxing Association, at the universe. Boxing cools that down a little but you provide him with balance, with the silence to his violence. And he’s your salvage.

Pairing: bucky x reader

Warnings: language, talk about marijuana (is that a warning?)

A/N: in the first few parts, things are partially inspired by creed. but only in the first few parts. idk i hope this is good lol, the reading character is one of my fav that i’ve ever written. gif below is not mine

He didn’t think moving a few boxes up a couple of flights of stairs would render his flesh arm sore— he didn’t think soreness was even a possibility for the appendage anymore unless under extreme circumstances.

But as Bucky stood in the middle of his new shared living room, stacks of cardboard boxes labelled “Books” and “Shit to be THROWN OUT” staring right back at him, he took a deep breath and flexed his fingers— flesh and metal alike.

The apartment looked much smaller in person than it did when Steve gave him the grand FaceTime tour just two weeks before. Walls were bluer, furniture was more worn out, the view was shittier. So much so that he wasn’t sure if he’d just romanticized the idea of leaving Silicon Valley to a point that his memory embellished the Downtown Los Angeles apartment into some sort of nirvana rather than the thinly-walled loft it really was.

It wasn’t as if it was a bad place to live—at least that’s what he told himself in order to justify the rent he’d be paying half of. Smells from the Middle Eastern restaurant only a few floors below wafted up a bit too much and the laundry room didn’t have the front-loading machines he was used to, but he wasn’t living on Skid Row and Steve agreed to cover him when finances went south— he convinced himself that constituted a win.

A clock bolted onto the wall a few feet from the door read half-past three in the morning, the bright neon green numbers burning his tired eyes, which he rubbed with tired fingers, which he then dragged down tired legs. He didn’t think there was a cell in his body that wasn’t exhausted, purple undertones beneath his lower lashline and unhealed bruises splotched over his left ribs a clear indication of that, yet peaceful sleep evaded him.

He’d given up after two hours of conscious tossing and turning, and two hours of restless, sweaty sleep marred with nightmarish flashbacks of desert sand, splattering blood, and terrified civilians allowed to wear the facial expression he was required to suppress.

It didn’t help that the music from the apartment below his made the floors practically vibrate, a heavy stench of marijuana flowing in through the vents. It’s what pulled him from his bedroom in the first place and the sudden switch in song reminded him as such, breaking his focus from the ache that had long ago settled in his bones and the numerous boxes containing what remained of his possessions.

Now Bucky Barnes had never been any sort of a square, he liked a good joint and a song he could shut his eyes and drown out his thoughts to as much as the next person— but it was a Tuesday night or Wednesday morning, his arm was sore, his ribs still pulsated subtly, and he had to begin his search for a decent back-up gym in just four hours. It may have been his mind that partially kept him from sleeping, but he would be damned if he blamed himself entirely for yet another thing.

He shut the door softly behind him and started down the stairs, the sound of metal digits against the wooden railing drowned out by the continuing beats. He shook his head to himself, muttering, “Gonna kick this guy’s ass.”

He began pounding on the door the sound and smoke came from, flesh fist battering the splintering barrier relentlessly until the soreness became too much. He set his hands on either side of the doorframe, his head bowed so growing chocolate brown hair fell into his field of vision and his back was relaxingly curved.

He resorted to kicking the door then, the heel and ball of his foot rapping against the chipped paint three times before he stood up straight and lifted his palm with the intention of continuing the assault.

The music clicked off the instant the door was thrown open. And Bucky found himself staring.

Eyebrows knit together in frustration, lined eyes half-lidded from the smoke he could see ribbons of in his peripheral vision, and lips chewed raw, you stood with your paint-stained left hand still wrapped firmly around the doorknob and your right hand clutching an angle brush. You tilted your head expectantly.

He cleared his throat, gaze downcast to regroup focus only to follow the length of your bare legs peeking out from under a faded denim button-up shirt. He shook his head then and met your dilated eyes once more. “I’m Bucky. James, but everyone calls me Bucky.”

You narrowed your eyes further. “Okay?”

He wondered if his lips were smiling or if they’d fallen in a frown. “I just— I just moved in upstairs. 5-D.”

“With Mr. Rogers?”

“‘Mr. Rogers’?” he asked as he found his own head tilting.

“Yeah. You know, like the old guy that used to be on PBS. Wore shawl collar cardigans and ties, had the little trains.”

He nodded after a moment, chuckling. He leant his shoulder against the wall beside him. “Right, Mr. Rogers. S’a dig at Steve’s behavior, I get it.”

You let go of the doorknob and crossed your arms over your chest, frowning when he neglected to speak for a few beats. “Okay, did you need something, Bucky? It’s almost four.”

“Your, uh, your music— it’s shaking my floors and the smoke’s comin’ through the vents.”

Your frown grew deeper. “Right. I didn’t think it was that loud.”

“It is. And I’ve gotta wake up in three hours, gotta find a decent fuckin’ gym around here.”

“It’s indica.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“The smoke. It’s from indica. Should help you fall asleep.”

“Not when your music’s making my brain rattle ‘round my skull.”

A corner of your lips quirked up in a momentary, miniscule smile.

“So could you turn it down? I gotta—”

“Be up in three hours and find a gym,” you finished, detangling your arms and taking hold of the doorknob once more. “Heard you the first time. Wouldn’t wanna impede on your ability to keep that body tight.”

There was a bit of taunting in your voice, a slight challenge in the arch of your brow, but only annoyance in your frown. You looked right back at him as he continued to stand in your doorway. “I’ll turn it down, you won’t hear a thing.”

“Tha—” the door slammed shut and the deadbolt immediately clicked into place, he frowned, “ —nks.”

He was only five steps up the flight when the music resumed at the same volume, shaking the railing ever so slightly as he laughed through his nose despite himself.

After rummaging through the large box labeled “Sleep aides” and pulling a container of earplugs from the collection of useless junk, he managed to sleep for the remaining two and a half hours fairly well. The scientific and egotistical parts of him didn’t want to attribute that to his deep inhalations of the smoke you’d described to him but the unreasonable, humanistic side could find no other reason.

He brushed his teeth quickly and quietly, wiping his moist, minty lips on a rough white hand towel he’d snagged from some crappy hotel in Mexico about thirty-six hours prior.

He knew it was useless to bundle-up entirely for his run, the weather of Southern California never imposing the burden of fleece-lined running pants or woolen beanies, so he wore a pair of black Nike shorts and a matching fitted hoodie. Shoes snuggly tied, he emerged from his bedroom to find the scent in the air an odd mixture of stale indica smoke, fresh coffee, and shawarma.

Steve, in all his tall and blonde glory, stood at the kitchen island spreading a pat of butter over toast. A mug of what Bucky assumed to be coffee sat atop an open manila file that Steve was intently studying the pages of, his forehead creased before he even managed to change into his work clothes.

Though he wasn’t one for speaking just moments after he’d awoken, Bucky cleared his throat and gruffly greeted, “‘Morning.”

Steve looked up from the page he was scrutinizing and offered his new roommate a gentle smile— a smile that was once filled with sympathy and pity now saturated with an abhorrent admiration. “Good morning, Buck. You sleep well?”

“Do I look like I slept well, Stevie?”

His pink lips fell into a frown. “Nightmares?”

Bucky half-shrugged. “I think one of the neighbors might be runnin’ a nightclub out of their apartment.”

“Ah, I probably should’ve warned you about that.” He took a long sip of his coffee and turned around to put the carton of milk back into the stainless steel fridge. “Y/N’s a little loud sometimes.”

“Y/N?” Bucky repeated, plugging white earbuds into his phone.

He nodded as he took a bite of his toast. “Cute girl, lives right below us. Artist— did that mural for the burger place down the street.”

Bucky frowned in consideration.

“Says she works better with louder music. Got on my nerves at first,” Steve continued with a fond chuckle. “But she grows on you. Always has a good stock of apology pot, too.”

“Apology pot?”

He nodded with a smile. “S’what she calls it.”

“Cute,” Bucky snorted. “She could just try turning her music down.”

“I won’t question the creative processes of an artist that good.”

“She ain’t Van Gogh. You won’t be changing the course of art history by asking her to lower that shit.”

Steve frowned. He knew the way Bucky had been since being back. A little short with everyone, a bit more irritable.

The latent anger at himself, at his missing arm, at the US Army, at the universe had eased up after getting the prosthetic and going through rehabilitation. It was mostly at bay during his time back at the state school in San Jose, too, and it was only when he entered the working force as a low-level programmer in a pretentious, highly competitive area that it all returned. He’d discovered soon enough that boxing helped— it gave him an outlet.

It was when the anger and pressure heightened to incomprehensible levels that he realized he’d need to be boxing twenty-four hours a day just to be half the person he once was. So he began self-training more, spending every hour that he wasn’t working or struggling to sleep in a shitty gym in East Palo Alto.

Eventually that turned into fighting underground, the murky regulations and rules of the National Boxing Association regarding prosthetics in professional boxing keeping any trainer worth their salt from working with him just as they kept away any opponent worth even spitting in the vague direction of. While that should’ve shifted off with the lawsuit a leg amputee had won, change was a slow process and Bucky needed his release to bring him some benefit extrinsically— in other words, he wanted to make some money off his skill.

The yellowing bruises he would frequently sport after fights in numerous shady clubs across North and Central America had his bosses questioning his extracurriculars and, tired of the relentless interrogations, Bucky left the tech job and moved to Los Angeles to be with his childhood best friend.

The childhood best friend who promised to speak to the gym a friend of his owned, coax them into training Bucky while the National Boxing Association inevitably redrafted their terribly unclear and, quite frankly, discriminatory rules. The childhood best friend who said there was no need for Bucky to go foraging for a back-up gym with  buzz words like that. The childhood best friend who went through school, break-ups, and war with Bucky only to emerge still confident and almost encouragingly optimistic. Almost.

Bucky paused at your door as he raced down the stairs to begin his six-mile run, shaking his head to himself when the impulsive side of him had the temptation to blast his own music as you presumably attempted to sleep.

Just as he began to turn away, however, your door flew open. And he found himself staring again.

Eyes lined with an additional wing on your inner corner, outfit dark and put-together, and lips chewed raw, you stood at the doorway to sling a burlap bag onto your shoulder and push a large colorful canvas into the hall.

You slid a pair of round eyeglasses into place and looked up from the keys in your hand to tilt your head, sighing heavily. “I’m not playing music right now so you’ll need another excuse for standing here with that face.”

“What face?” he asked before he could help himself.

You picked up the canvas and tucked it under your arm, the lower border hitting above your ankle. “The red face of anger.”

“‘M not angry.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

He followed you down the stairs, staying a pace behind and catching the smell of roses and turpentine. “You don’t sleep or somethin’?”

You glanced over your shoulder and he thought he might have imagined your eyes flitting to the metal hand he held his phone in. You shrugged as you faced forward again. “You never know. Last night might be atypical.”

“Heard you’re an artist.”

You sent him a small smile. “You asking people about me?”

He snorted in an unconvincingly incredulous way. “Steve said something about it.”

“After you asked him?”

“No.”

“Yeah? Believable,” you said dryly, pushing the lobby door open with your shoulder. “I catch you lurking outside my door again, I’ll blast the music even louder.”

He smirked, tucking an earbud into his right ear once he’d pulled his hood up. “That a threat, sweetheart?”

You spun around, walking backwards down the sidewalk in the direction opposite him. You raised a single eyebrow. “Yeah, baby, I thought that was obvious.”

PART 2: MUSEUM OF DEATH

teeny tiny tag list (if you want to be added, send an ASK) strikethrough means your tag doesn’t work: @sighodinson @sebstancial @dreamingofonceuponatime @eufeme @captain-what-is-going-on @little-miss-headphones @writingcroissant @desertrose-saku @lilypalmer1987 @addictionmarvel @fancybasementpersona  @winterdoe @closerstars @donnatroy-writes @violentlybarnes @buckylovelybarnes @curiositywillbethedeathofme @demonsandfaries-blog-blog

maaaaan, this girl is non-stop!

*pushes my index fingers together* i wrote all the starters i owe, though i have replies that i still owe (i didn’t forget)! i’ll get to those either later today after i meet some deadlines or tomorrow!! that being said, welcome to the new members of werelit, and i still have a lot of brain babies and random ass ideas...so uh, if you want to do something you can take a look down below!

if we’re mutuals, if you find this in the tags and it piques your interest, or we already got something going on but something in this catches your eye....like, call dibs, message me first, or breathe in my general direction--anything works!

tumblr im is the best way to reach me! pls don’t leave me hanging!!! (also please excuse the typos that are sure to pop up, i’m running out of steam omg)

random ideas

some kind of superhero au: im gonna be real i typed all the shit under this and lost my steam BUT i saw black panther the other day and was endlessly inspired. obviously it doesn’t have to be in that setting but maybe in the mcu with more poc heroes? 

mythology/percy jackson-esque au: i loved the percy jackson books! camp half blood or not, we could have them living in the outside world trying to integrate successfully, or recognizing each other as half-bloods and being all !!!.  ANYTHING!

existing muses that i have that i would love to make a plot for!

hacker (affiliated with some sort of underground organization): some typa mob au, park kyungri fc though it’s flexible! she was part of a closed rp at some point and i loved her even after i left the rp so i kept her bio close...intellectually gifted as a youth, while en route to a job in cyber security, in uni an event forced her to change careers drastically. w/ technology and her own set of learned skills, she’s off the grid, new identity, and working for the enemy of her enemy (so they’re now her friend). if you’re interested, lmk!!! i’ll give you her full bio or summarize it for you!

clairaudient psychic: kim taehyung fc, though it’s flexible! a psychic who has particularly clear hearing, aka he is especially sensitive to voices from beyond the grave. he usually uses his gift to help souls pass on by reaching out to relatives or vice versa, his brother’s death was a heightening event that only made him more sensitive. he has some spirit guides that *spoiler* guide him and assist him in distinguishing lost souls from malicious ones. makes a living as a psychic with a dedicated client base, though he does get the rando skeptic every now and then (that usually ends up leaving a little shaken). has the potential to lean slice of life or supernatural, depending on what kind of character plays opposite him!

nighttime radio dj w/ supernatural elements: more of a brain child than anything, i don’t have a fc for him yet! but kind of inspired by that whole ‘welcome to nightvale’-ish vibe? i’ll admit i never fully got into the podcasts, but i like the idea of them being completely human but unknowingly or uncaringly kind of blending into other dimensions because of a mix of location (perhaps near a bridge in the city that they’re in, since bridges have been known to have connotations of ‘leading to other realms’) and time (probably from 3am to 4am since it’s commonly associated with the ‘witching hour’). maybe their broadcast reaches out further than simply their plane of existence and kind of interferes into other dimensions? idk! it would be interesting and i am so up for discussion/tossing ideas back and forth!

time travelling cyborg: was a jb from got7 fc, but i want to change his fc...he’s from the future, was in a fire so the majority of his left side is enhanced prosthetic ergo cyborg. i have a lot of hcs though i lost his bio but i can tell you many many things about him. basically he’s studying the past in order to better the future (his present), etc etc etc, and for his thesis he gets to time travel back to observe...told not to make too many important relationships etc because butterfly effect but...inevitability!

a polyamorous dynamic: obviously this requires 2 other beautiful writers that kind of know each other (or don’t mind getting to know each other)! but i think it be really interesting to explore a dynamic that so often misrepresented? the r/s isn’t perfect ofc, and there’s still jealousy and misunderstandings involved but the three of them, at the center of it all, make each other better. it’s a balancing act but it’s worth it? so many potential dynamics between the three of them!

muses inspired by fcs/photos (very basic ideas!)

rena from pristin in a modern royal au: a princess. she is a princess. i fell in love on my timeline when i saw this photoset. something to do with this photoset? idk!!! if u have an idea lay it on me!!!

yongguk from bap looking like a snack: i just want to write for a yongguk. that’s all. hit me with any ideas if you want. let’s do it.

nayoung from gugudan in a pirate au: pirates! just PIRATES! there are so many ways to go about this? but all i know is that i want nayoung to be a pirate. whether you want to play a fellow pirate or a crew members or a naval officer captured or or or...there’s a lot of options............

jinyoung (got7) as a kind of kiki’s delivery service au: look how sweet and unassuming he looks! maybe a magical being who moves out of their little community to try and make it in the city...doing odd jobs and trying to make friends!!!

a plot where i can use liu yifei as a fc: yes, i know she is the casting for hua mulan but it doesn’t have to be mulan-esque (unless you’re down with that!)...i see this as a potential historical-esque, wushu inspired, fantastical plot?