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kcatta-wodahs · 3 years

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Making Lore Out of the Angel Event

Im the definition of 'its not that deep but I'm going to dig a hole to make it that deep'

In this case its me making it that deep because otherwise this event is upsetting so I'm making some dark lore theories to make it make sense to me.

I'll have a lot of spoilers below. For the event and everything I know, which is up to like lesson 32 I think.

Basically, TLDR; this was an attack by Michael/their Father on Devildom. Simeon and Diavolo have successfully negated the threat by turning it into a game.

TLDR Thesis; The Celestial Realm is governed through careful mind control. The Demon Bros are not "avatars" because of being demons- they have been cursed by their Father to suffer as no other demon nor angel has to.

First we hear direct from Michael, and he's giving these bangles that appear to brainwash the main cast.

This was an attempt by their Father to bring them back under his control. By control, I mean this literally.

I've felt for a long time that the way the Celestial Realm seems to be run is... shady. It's a utopia to outside appearances only, and those who have been most deeply embroiled in the Great Celestial War know this.

The Great Celestial War was over free will, rather than the specifics of Lilith's situation. She was the catalyst for a long-time-coming revolt against the rulers of the Celestial Realm.

My logic for this:

The reason for Lilith's expulsion goes against the current action plan of the Celestial Realm. Peace between the realms? Sure, but their Father is bound to realize that you put angels, humans, and demons together you're going to end up with more angels like Lilith, who fall for other races. Why would he accept this truce if he lost his favored children over an issue that is very similar? Did he have a change of heart? Heavens no.

Luke's behaviour towards the demon's seems case-and-point. Luke is not the strange one out of the angelic transfer students- Simeon is. Not only that, Simeon is chosen not in an attempt to promote peace, but to protect Luke from being influenced. (Which is, again, the whole point\of the exchange program.)

That time we went to the Celestial Realm for real - Lucifer was worried. Scared, even. This can be explained by, you know, the War and Lilith.. but I wonder if it may be more sinister. Like perhaps being brainwashed.

Diavolo and Barbatos weren’t required to wear bangles to become less “demon-like” for the “party”. This is because the bangles were a ploy to get the brothers back.

My theory is that when an angel begins to show signs of rebellion or questioning the divine order, they are forcibly stopped. Michael is that enforcer, and these 'gifts' are a method of stopping them.

The bangles cause a person to act *perfectly angelic* against their free will. The people affected become all smiles and sunshine, so clearly nothing could be wrong with it, right? They’re happy, right?

No. Very not right, and we can see that through Satan.

Poor Satan is always the exception to the rule of the Brothers, as his circumstances are different from everyone else's.

In this case though, he's the one who provides insight on this mind control.

Let me remind you of the quotes Satan gives us during this time:

“I feel worked up.” “I don’t feel like myself at all.”

“It feels like something foreign is forcing my heart to be calm.” “Like my heart... becoming tranquil.”

Satan has never been an angel. He has never experienced this before. He has something the other brothers don’t: self-reflection. Satan can tell the difference between his feelings and feelings that are being imposed upon him. He tells you what he feels - “worked up” and “not like himself” and he is not smiling during this. He’s clearly unhappy, even though an angel might say he should feel unburdened by losing his anger.

He even mentions this.

“Normally, that wouldn’t seem like something bad, right?” “Something isn’t right.” “Maybe you shouldn’t come near me when I’m in this state.”

Satan is under the effects of the bangle, being forced to act angelic, but he can tell something “isn’t right.” He clearly shows that he thinks this is a “bad” thing, not because being calm is bad, but because it’s not “normal”. And can I remind you that he’s the Avatar of Wrath? The Sin that is most likely to be dangerous to be around - and yet it’s only when his anger is forcibly quelled that he thinks you should stay away from him. He knows that this is not something to desire. He knows that it is not happiness.

“I can’t concentrate on reading today.”

I mean, he’s obviously going through a lot, so that’s fair. But I have the theory that if he were to try and research this condition he wouldn’t be able to either. I have a theory about the Garden of Eden. My theory is about Paradise.

Remember when Eve ate the fruit? Do you know what that fruit was? Sin?

No. That fruit was knowledge.

Specifically, knowledge of good and evil. Now, why would this knowledge be something to keep from those under the control of the Celestial Realm? It sounds rather like they might be able to then make their own decisions of what is right and wrong.

Satan has known this from the beginning. Knowledge is power. The Ruler of the Celestial Realm, the other demons’ Father, knows this, too.

Why are there no other Avatars?

Sin was not something inherent to Devildom. Sin is a judgement sent from the Celestial Realm. There are no other Avatars because they are a wholly angelic creation. There are other posts that have examined the Sins as outlets, and how each of the brothers are attempting to find ways to allow themselves to express their sin so it does not overtake them.

From the get-go, we are shown that these Sins are a defining point for the brothers, but we’re also shown that they cause more trouble than anything else. Again, part-and-parcel of being a demon, right?

So why aren’t other demons like this?

Look at Diavolo and Barbatos, or even just the background demons who work across Devildom. Look at No. 2. They are all far more complex, and could even be considered normal. No. 2 is specifically meant to be based off of Mammon and his greed, but is much more rounded when we interact with it.

If Diavolo is meant to be the ruler of demonkind -- the paragon of what a demon should be -- then why would he not be the epitome of all of these Sins in one? What is Diavolo, instead?

Diavolo is accepting.

Hold up a moment here. What? Sorry y’all but it sounds to me like Mr. Demon Daddy King trusts his son enough to pass the kingdom on to him... so that must mean that Diavolo is behaving as a demon should.

Barbatos doesn’t question Diavolo’s choices. Nobody does. He’s an all around popular ruler. Devildom seems to be quite.. the opposite of what we’ve been trained to expect, huh? Trained by who exactly?

What are the Demon Brothers?

Cursed. They don’t act like other demons because they’re not like other demons. When they rebelled against their Father, they were punished for this act, but I posit that the punishment and the exile were two different acts. Their Father knew that leaving the Celestial Realm was not punishment to those who desired free will. So instead, he gave them Sin. Something that Demons are not normally bound to.

But how would the brothers know this? They only know what they’ve been taught by angels about demons. Surely these new, pressing desires come from turning into demons..?

So, why was this not taken seriously?

Short answer: it was. But in the way that aligns with Diavolo’s ultimate goals.

Diavolo wants peace.

Let’s Talk About Simeon

Simeon is an enigma and a half isn’t he?

Simeon is close with Michael, closer than Luke in any case. Now, I’ll be honest, I can’t remember if it was a fanfiction I read that said this or if it was canon so uh - forgive me. But Simeon was chosen to accompany Luke as an exchange student so that Luke would get some education. Simeon says this is to help relations, as Diavolo wants, but of course that’s what you would say as a sleeper agent?

Now, don’t get sad. Because we love Simeon here and we support him.

Simeon is wise and neutral. He seems to support the brothers, and even still wishes to foster a relationship with them. This could be seen as an attempt to bring them back, or some such, but I like to think that Simeon knows what’s wrong with the Celestial Realm.

Simeon, however, doesn’t think that a revolt can solve it. Simeon is working with Diavolo to create a form of peace - and has been transparent about the fact that Michael chose him to prevent Luke from being corrupted. I like to think he’s also been transparent with Diavolo about Michael’s actual goal.

Simeon believes that the races should co-exist and love freely. How could love be evil, after all? Whether or not this is a new concept to him (because of his falling for you) or if this is just who he is, I’ll leave up to you and your preferences, but since he is now no longer undateable, it is established that he does not believe love between angels and humans to be bad - as his Father did with Lilith.

What happened, then?

My theory is that Simeon told Diavolo that Michael had given him a task - to give these bangles to the brothers to remind them of the joy they were missing by disobeying the Divine Order. Either that, or to brainwash them into coming back home.

Simeon’s position would be revealed to Michael if he didn’t give the brothers the bangles, but he does not want to instigate another war either. So he told Diavolo Michael’s plan.

Diavolo wants peace, and he knows that with time, the brothers can overcome this mind control as they had in the past - especially with his help.

So thus comes the “party”.

An excuse to make the bangles seem like a “harmless” gift, that had only gone wrong because of strange magical interference, when really they had done exactly what they were supposed to.

And a wonderful way to maintain peace while leaving the Celestial Realm to stew in their own pots.

Simeon gets to maintain his facade for everyone - and put on a show for Michael as being loyal. He also gets to show Luke that perhaps being wholly angelic isn’t the way for some people, letting him learn a little more about peaceful coexistence. Nothing happens to ruin Diavolo’s grand plan for peace, and he gets to learn more about the curse that is set upon his friends - One that he hopes to be able to break someday, so they can live their lives unfettered by their Father.

#okay this has gone on long enough #i have other ideas about satan in this whole situation but this is my canon now okay #the celestial realm is shady af #Our group of friends are the ones trying to rebel against it #but also are the victims of what happens if you do #man i wish that they would go into deep lore and plot like this in the game #but its an otome so i can't really expect that #anyway this is how im going to treat the whole thing #obey me lore #lore #bast babbles #obey me event #angel event #obey me angel event #obey me #obey me shall we date #obswd #headcanons

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years

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From the ground up

Alright y’all, a little switch up from the normally scheduled 10 things programming. But this is 8 pages of fluff that was requested based on the Dan + Shay song From the Ground Up.

This is also very inspired by my grandparents who knew each other for 85 years, were married for 66, had 4 children, 13 grandchildren, and currently 10 great grandchildren, so here’s also their story, but it fits with the song, so why not?

Hope you like it! ______________________

Five Years Old

The snow was falling, all the neighborhood boys were gathering in his front yard to start playing. You two had always been friends, meeting when you were three years old and in the same preschool class. You watched from your bedroom window as the boys started throwing snowballs at each other, something you loved doing with your younger brother. You put on all the winter clothing you can find, running downstairs to beg your mom to go across the street to the Jost’s house to play with the boys.

“Have fun sweetie!” your mom calls once you finally wear her down and convince her that you’ll come in as soon as she calls you in for dinner.

Running as fast as your legs can carry you, more and more children aggregating in their yard, it was an all out war between the guys and girls, snowballs flying. The girls were getting pelted, you coming in and throwing snowballs left and right at any boy who stood in your way. One by one, they surrender, until you were the last one standing. You were the almighty five year old, the winner of the snowball fight.

Someone taps you on the shoulder. You turn around to see who it is only to be met with a snowball to the face. The boys around you were laughing as Tyson stood in front of you with a smirk. You wipe the snow off, staring at him for a minute while the girls stayed silent behind you. The snow was still following, a crown of water droplets forming on around his face as the melted snow clinged to his hair. It wasn’t a crush yet, because you didn’t know what that was. But it was something.

The next thing you know, you’ve tackled him down in the snow, grabbing some off the ground and shoving it back in his face. The kids gather around the two of you, watching Tyson struggle to push you off of him, not succeeding until you hear your mom calling your name from across the street.

“Bye, Tyson!” you jump up, running back inside, leaving all the rest of the kids standing there, looking at Tyson’s wet hair, cold red face, and snow covered back while he watched you run and disappear behind your front door.

Seventeen Years Old

“What do you mean that’s when you knew?” you ask him, his laugh coming through the other end of the phone.

“Any girl who wasn’t afraid of beating up a guy who was bigger than her and actually does it well is the girl for me,” he says, referencing the snowball fight all those years ago. “You didn’t care what other guys thought of you: you got hit unfairly and I paid the consequence.”

“Well, yeah, you think I was going to let you get away with that? Also, we were the same size, you were pretty small then” you tease him. “It’s so corny that you fell in love with me when we were five years old.”

“What can I say? I’m a hopeless romantic when it comes to you,” he says, “There’s no one who I would want to be with other than you. The distance thing doesn’t even seem like it’s going to be bad knowing that you’re the one I’m doing it with.”

You feel your insides flutter at his words, wishing that he was there with you now. You two had been together for as long as your moms let you date, spending every moment together that you could. He was your best friend first, your boyfriend second, your forever third. “How are you feeling about going to North Dakota in a few months?” you ask him.

He lets out a long, slightly shaky sigh, “Excited? Nervous?” he tells you, his voice going up at the end of each, “Terrified.”

“It’s a new experience, that’s natural,” you try to reassure him. “You’ve never really done this sort of thing before.”

“Aren’t you nervous about going all the way to Massachusetts?”

Part of you was, part of you wasn’t. You were scared to be away from Tyson, but part of you knew that you would always find your way back to each other, even with the distance between Chestnut Hill and Grand Forks. “About being that far away from home? No, not really.”

“What about being that far away from me?” you hear him squeak out on the other end, barely loud enough for you to really hear the pain that was in his voice.

“I’m not nervous,” you whisper, wishing you could be there with him to physically comfort him, “We’re going to be just fine.”

“How do you know?”

You take a deep breath, knowing that he was going to cry a little if he weren’t already. “We have been best friends since I beat you up that day. No matter what, you’re going to be my best friend. No matter what, I’m going to love you. I don’t care if you’re at UND and I’m at BC. You could go to Sweden and I could end up in New Zealand and I will still always love you.”

You hear him laugh a little, a sniffle followed immediately after. You didn’t need to see his face to know that his nose was red, the goofy grin of his trying to hide the fear that would surely be covering his face.

“Hey, meet me by the gazebo in thirty minutes, ok?” he finally says after what felt like forever sitting there in silence.

“Sure,” you tell him, your phone beeping as a signal that he had hung up. You had no idea what he had planned, but you did as you were told, grabbing your jacket and making your way to meet Tyson. You get there to find him pacing back and forth under the moonlight that was shining down on him. “Hey, babe,” you say, him pulling you in tight for a kiss.

Even though it was summer, the night time brought a cool breeze that sent a shiver through your body even with the jacket on. Tyson takes off his jacket, his favorite one with his name on his back, handing it to you, a smile on his face as he watched you pull it over your head. “So, what are we doing here?”

“This is going to sound crazy,” he starts, knowing that would concern you a little, “but hear me out first. You’re confident that we’ll stay together even being in North Dakota and Massachusetts, but I want to put in stone. Or, I guess, wood,” he says, gesturing to the gazebo.

“What are you talking about?”

“People carve their initials in the wood here all the time. Why don’t we do that, too?”

You smile at him, bending down next to him to watch him carve TJ + YFI/YLI enclosed in a crude heart, next to others that had looked like they had been there for years. “I wonder who all these people are?” you ask, carefully tracing your finger over one that said MR+MD. “I wonder if they’re all still together.”

“Don’t matter,” Tyson shrugs, looking at the way the moonlight dances off your skin, “We’re still together, and I have a feeling we’re going to last.”

Eighteen Years Old

Tyson had no idea you would be there. The College Hockey Showdown was that weekend at Madison Square Garden, the Boston College Eagles playing against the North Dakota Fighting Eagles. One of your roommates was from a small town in southern Connecticut, half an hour outside of the city, so you convinced her to go with you and spend the weekend down there instead of driving the four hours back to Chestnut Hill after the game.

“So, which one is he?” Julie asks as the guys skated onto the ice.

You were in the only section that led you to be surrounded by a sea of maroon and gold, feeling weirdly out of place not wearing team colors but the jacket Tyson gave you that night at the gazebo, which you ended up stealing from him, instead. “Number 17, the curly-haired one,” you point to him as he talks with one of his teammates, his helmet off, making it much easier to see his face.

Tyson had been telling you how nervous the team was about this game: Brock was injured, Trevor was two days shy of a 730 day scoring drought, and the team hadn’t beaten Boston College in 11 years. Not to mention, UND and BC were the two winningest college programs since the 06-07 season, UND having a slight edge over BC, putting that much more pressure on the guys to win this game to help make the gap a little wider. Tyson only rambled off stats about the other team when he was worried about a game against them. It was the first time you would ever be rooting against the college team you had come to love, and only because it involved the boy you love.

“Does he know you’re here?” she asks you, trying to figure out why he wasn’t looking up in the stands for you. When you shake your head no, she picks you up out of your seat, annoying the other Boston College fans while the ones behind you got a good look at the four letters scrawled across your back. “Tyson!” she starts screaming, shaking you in hopes that you would join in with her.

You roll your eyes, knowing that he would be able to hear his name being called once you joined in. You were waiting to see the look on his face when he finally realized you were at the game, so you scream along with her. He hears his name, confused as to where it’s coming from. He looks around the arena, taking what felt like forever to find you. His jaw drops when he sees you, a smile on his face as he frantically waves back at you. He nudges his teammate next to him, pointing up to you. You couldn’t tell what he was saying, but from the joy that covered his face he was excited that you would get to see him play.

The first period goes by, no scoring, not much of anything. The second period was starting, and the blank score on both sides was making you nervous. One of Tyson’s teammates passed him the puck, Tyson taking the opportunity to shoot and scoring his sixth goal of the year. The Garden went crazy, you and Julie the only two in the small section of Boston College fans joining most of the crowd, Tyson pointing right up to you when he skated to the bench. UND went on the power play, his teammate passing him the puck again. At the dot, he fired it past the BC goalie, putting his team up 2-0.

You were overjoyed by Tyson’s game, getting to see him be named first star of the game that UND won 4-3. You manage to sneak your way down to where the boys are, Tyson somehow convincing someone who worked there to let you in once you gave them your name. You saw Tyson giving an interview, the guys passing by him and patting him on the shoulders while he talked. You didn’t hear what they asked him, but you could help but admire him. “That’s part of hockey. There’s going to be momentum swings. We really had to bounce back, but that just shows our character in our team. We’re all warriors in there and I think we proved it tonight.”

The reporter leaves, Tyson turning towards him. He was sweaty, disgusting, smelly, and all of that combined wasn’t enough to stop you from running into his arms as he picked you up in his arms and kissed you for the first time since the day you left. “I can’t believe you’re here!” he practically screams when he puts you down, kissing you again.

“I wanted to surprise you,” you tell him as he goes on about how excited he was that you were there.

“I think you’re a good luck charm,” he says, leading you out of the way from some of the other guys walking around the hallway and plopping you down on the floor. “Hey, I’ve been thinking,” he starts, his voice shaking.

You knew he was nervous by the sound of his voice. You gently squeeze his hand, the smile on his face growing bigger, “Yeah?”

“When you graduate, wherever I’m playing, or even if I’m not, I wanna be living with you.”

“Are you asking me to move in with you after graduation?” you ask him, his sweaty curls moving with his head. “You think we’ll still be together in three and a half years?”

He swallows, looking down at your hands intertwined, sitting on his thigh, “I can’t imagine my life any other way. It’s written on the ground of the gazebo.”

Twenty Two Years Old

You and Tyson were going home for the wedding of one of your cousins. You had been living together for a year now in Colorado, Tyson enjoying his fourth season in the league.

“Hey, can we make a quick pit stop before we head to the reception?” Tyson asks you when you get into the car. Your cousins, Lisa and Brendan get in the back seat, Tyson being deemed the designated driver for the night. You swear you see them smile at each other before looking back at the two of you.

“Yeah, sure, is that alright with you guys?” you ask them, making eye contact through the rearview mirror. They both nod, the four of you talking about the ceremony the entire way to wherever Tyson was taking you. His hands were shaking like he was nervous.

You pull into the park that was down the street from where you grew up. “Come on,” he says, rushing around the car to open the door for you and drag you through the grounds. Lisa and Brendan follow, keeping their distance as Tyson sprinted towards the gazebo.

“We haven’t been here since that night before we left for college,” you observe, looking out over the water that surrounded part of the structure. “Do you think our initials are still here?” you ask him, turning around to find him already on the ground.

“Yeah, right here,” he says, tracing his finger over your initials. He reaches up to pull you down next to him. “Did I ever tell you that my mom's best friend carved hers and her boyfriend's initials here, too?”

“No, do you know which one’s they are?”

He points to the ones by your knees, the same ones you had admired the night Tyson carved you there, MR and MD. “Matthias and Marianne. They’re probably the happiest couple I’ve ever seen.”

You stand back up, not wanting so much of your dress to be on the ground. You look for Lisa and Brendan, who are nowhere in sight. “Hey, where did-” you start, only to be cut off but what you saw in front of you.

Tyson shifted himself to one knee, a small box in his hands with the most gorgeous ring you had ever seen. “I know it’s kind of shitty to be doing this the day of someone else's wedding, but this is the only time I knew we would be here where we first promised to be with each other forever,” he says. You can feel tears welling up in your eyes, suddenly thankful that you had brought makeup with you in your bag for touch ups. “You told me that night that no matter where in the world we were, we would always be together. I want to be together forever. I want to grow old with you, have a family with you, be the father to your children that I never got and be the man your dad always wanted you to end up with. I want to hold you close, protect you, love you. I want to be your husband. Y/N, will you marry me?” he asks, the tears falling down your face.

You shake your head yes, unable to let out more than a happy sob as he slips the ring on your finger, finally hearing Lisa and Brendan screaming as you take Tysons face in your hands and kiss him.

Twenty Four Years Old

You stood in the pink room, trying to rock your little girl to sleep. Tyson should be home at any minute from the road trip, but Viviana had been fussy the entire day. All you wanted was for her to go to sleep so you could go to sleep.

“I’m home,” you hear Tyson call from the doorway of your house, praying that he doesn’t come in yelling while you cradle your ten-month-old daughter in your arms. He appears in the doorway to her room, dropping his bag and tip-toeing up to you. He rubs your arms, kissing you on the cheek before pulling you close to him. He rests his chin on your shoulder, looking down at Viviana. “Can you believe how big she’s gotten?” he whispers to you as she finally nods off to sleep.

You lay her down in her crib, Tyson standing back and admiring how gentle you were with her. He hugs you from behind again, the two of you taking a moment to just look at your daughter. You lead him out of the room, closing her door carefully. “She is so beautiful,” you gush about your daughter even though she was the reason you were perpetually exhuasted.

Tyson hugs you, finally getting the chance to kiss you hello. “She takes after you. The room, though, is very pink.” You can’t help but laugh at the same observation he makes whenever he goes into her room. As soon as you found out you were having a girl, Tyson went overboard, buying every dress he could, little bows, cute socks, anything that looked like it was made for a girl, regardless of color or if it actually conformed to the gender construct, he bought, or convinced his teammates to buy for him so you couldn’t get mad at him for coming home with yet another Avalanche related baby item.

“I was nine months pregnant when you painted that, you know it’s your fault.” The two of you go to your own bedroom, you ready to crawl in bed even though it was the middle of the afternoon. “If she wakes up, can you take care of her?” you ask him, climbing under the sheets.

“Yeah, but before you go to sleep, I think we need to talk.” You look at him, knowing that sentence typically comes with bad news, but Tyson’s face said otherwise. “I know Viviana isn’t even a year old yet, and I know we said we would wait until she was, but I think I’m ready to try for another kid now,” he says, “Only if you are, too, of course.”

You look away from him, a picture of you and him looking down at Viviana right after she was born sitting in the frame on your bedside table. You knew Tyson wanted a big family, you wanted one with him. It was an easy decision: “Can we wait until after I get some sleep?”

The smile on his face grows, excited that you were going to be trying for a bigger family. He plants a soft, sweet kiss on your head as you gently fall to sleep.

Thirty Four Years Old

“Viviana Abigale, come down here!” you call to the birthday girl as your friends and family started showing up at your house. “Tyson, I think Cale and Gabe are here,” you say to your husband, hearing voices of his teammates carrying through your house indicating that Tyson had left the front door open for anyone to just walk in.

You hear your kids running through the house, three sets of feet pounding against the floor as everyone started to show up with gifts and more food.

It was Vivi’s tenth birthday, and Tyson insisted that you have a party to celebrate your oldest child turning double-digits. Part of you thought he just wanted to show off the house now that it was finally put back together after you had it redone, but he did more of the work in preparing. You were worried that would mean having a similar party with Alexander turned ten in two years, or when Jimmy did in four. Anything to have a party to celebrate your family, Tyson was the first to suggest you make it happen.

Soon, your house and yard were filled with everyone you loved, laughing, eating, the kids playing. You watched as Alexander chased Jimmy with one of the hockey sticks Tyson’s mom had kept from when he was little. Tyson must have seen the anxious look on your face, “Don’t worry, he won’t do anything. Alexander is harmless.” You both laugh as he hands you a glass of wine, you swirling around in the glass instead of taking a sip.

“Want to go inside?” you ask him, taking his hand. You set the class down on the counter, Tyson showing a look of confusion by the untouched glass. You lead him to the wall underneath the stairs, looking at all the pictures that were there. The latest school pictures of your three children, a picture of you and Tyson on your wedding day, a picture of the two of you that your mom took when you went to the school dance together when you were in your first year of high school. “God, do you remember that night?”

“I only remember what I was wearing because of that picture and that I wanted to dance only with you,” he says, wrapping his arms around you.

“You were fourteen, there’s no way that’s what you were thinking of,” you tease him. “You danced with me once that night and spent the rest of the night leaning against the wall with the rest of the boys.”

“I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of you!” he argues back, his face turning red with the embarrassment he didn’t want.

You laugh, giving him a quick kiss, “I beat you up when we were five. Nothing you could do in front of me could be more embarrassing than that.”

The two of you stand there for a little while longer, staring at the pictures that were on the wall of your family. “Hey, Tys?”

“Yeah?”

“When we first got married, how many kids did you think we would have?”

He stops and thinks, knowing that he never explicitly told you, letting you decide how many you ultimately had. “I always wanted four.”

“Are you mad that we only have three?”

He looks at you. “Mad? Of course not.” How could he be mad that you gave him the three most beautiful children he could have asked for. They looked more like you than they did like him, but they definitely had his childish antics down to a t.

“Would you be mad if we had a fourth?”

“Again, of course not,” he says, confused by what you were trying to say. You smile at him, it finally clicking. “You’re-?” he starts, unable to figure out how to express his joy with words. You nod, him pulling you in for a tight hug. “Holy shit!” he screams, “Holy shit, are you serious?”

“There are children, Tys!” you say, laughing as you cover his mouth.

“We’re having another kid,” he says, his eyes lighting up.

“We’re having another kid.”

Fifty One Years Old

“Lucas!” you call to your youngest son, knowing he was the only other person in the house with you. You were trying to make dinner, one of Tyson’s favorite meals for his birthday.

“Yeah, Mom?” your sixteen year old says, not looking up from his phone as he walks into the kitchen.

Your hands were covered with raw meat, mixing everything up to prepare the stuffed burgers. “Can you run to the store and get me another onion?”

Lucas groans, in a typical teenage fashion. “Dad is already at the store getting you basil, can’t you just call him to get it?”

“No, because this is his phone,” you tell him, hitting the screen with your elbow so it doesn’t lock on you since that’s where the recipe is. “And it was parsley. The keys are by the door, there’s cash in my wallet, and yes I expect the receipt and know how much I had to start with,” you say to him.

He rolls his eyes at you, leaving for the store anyway. Lucas drives to the store, muttering to himself that you would send him out when Dad was already there. He laughs as he pulls in next to Dad’s car, knowing that he was bound to run into him while he was there. He wanders through the store, not looking for the onion in the slightest in hopes to find his father and tell him to get it so he can get home and go back to the game he was on with his friends.

Lucas finds Tyson in the spice aisle, standing there with two small bottles in his hands, one parsley, one basil. “She wanted parsley,” he says, startling his dad.

“I couldn’t remember what she said, so thank god you came,” he says, putting the basil back. “What did she send you to get?”

“An onion.” The two of them walk through the store, back to the produce that Lucas had already passed in hopes of getting out of there faster. “Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah, bud?” he asks, examining the pile of onions as he tried to figure out which one would be the one his wife would pick.

“Mom has already sent you here four times this week, and now me twice. Why do you put up with it?” he asks, clearly annoyed.

Tyson laughs, picking up one of the onions and heading to check out. “I would do anything for her, no matter how ridiculous or how many times she asks me to do it.” He looks at his youngest son, the only one who looked more like him than you, “One day, hopefully, you’re going to find someone who you love more than anything on this Earth, and you would do anything in the world to make sure that they stay happy. This is part of what keeps your mother happy, so how could I not do it?”

Eighty Eight Years Old

You look around from the head table, Tyson’s hand in yours as your entire family has overtaken the restaurant. Viviana and her husband had picked you up at your house, telling you that she was taking out to her home for an anniversary dinner. You were instead taken to your favorite restaurant, greeted but your children, your grandchildren, your brother and his family, Kacey and her family, everyone you cared about.

You sit there, listening to your children and some of your grandchildren talk about what it means to be in love. “Dad would drop everything if Mom asked him to do something. There was nothing too ridiculous that she could ask of him.”

“Growing up, it was the stolen looks, Dad looking at Mom with love filling his eyes and her not noticing, or Mom doing the same to Dad, neither of them ever looking at the same time.”

“Look around at everyone here: love between two people creates love between more. We wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for you.”

Sixty five years.

Four children.

Thirteen grandchildren.

Currently five great grandchildren, two more on the way in a few months.

The perfect life, the perfect husband.

#tyson jost #tyson jost imagine #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagine #avalanche #avalanche imagine #nh #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine

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valley-of-the-lost · 3 years

Text

OKAY FINAL CONSENSUS

Pros

- Songs are a bop. I WILL be looping that soundtrack please and thank you.

- Closed the classism plot better with Tori showing she was taking more direct, widespread action like putting systems in place to prevent the root issue (the drought) from happening again and implementing a social services program to further help.

- Tori and Kiera have a lot more interaction and gay chemistry. The plot setup just lends itself better to this, also yes Kiera did announce her engagement to Tori up on that stage and you can’t change my mind.

- Pets weren’t too annoying... mostly.

Cons (this is what y’all were waiting for huh)

- Augh... to be honest I think this movie is a demonstration that the people who made it didn’t understand what appealed to people about the original Princess and the Pauper. Which is obviously fine if it wasn’t trying so hard to ride off of it. Like sure, it’s trying to be the Princess and the Pauper for a new generation but the fact that it’s toting itself as that means its also trying to appeal to some extent to the ones who loved the original and ehhh it kinda fucked up in that regard.

Making the two leads both part of the 1% was the first mistake. First of all, that decision didn’t age well at all. Second of all, it kinda diminishes the point of them switching in the first place in a meta sense?? because it’s so the rich one can realize the class disparity by actually living as one in poverty. Tori literally stumbled across the poverty of her kingdom by accident, and she didn’t really reflect on learning anything by having to maintain an actual job for once as Kiera. Third of all in my opinion it makes them too similar in position. Really the only difference between Tori and Kiera is that one has an actual job.

Second mistake, Tori and Kiera really don’t embody the characteristics Princess and the Pauper fans found admirable in the original movie’s leads. Which, again, is fine if they want to tackle something different, but if they had it would show understanding of the original movie and what appealed to the audience.

Annelise and Erika are both admired for their mature resolve. “Duty means doing the things your heart may well regret”. They understand their responsibilities and what is riding on them and are ready to take appropriate action to see them through at personal cost to themselves.

Tori and Kiera in comparison are like the immature little sisters, Tori at least is approaching from the opposite angle developmentally where she has to go from immaturity to maturity and come to learn her responsibilities, which might’ve caused some whiplash in og Princess and the Pauper fans. Kiera is... well. Let’s just say she got did SUPER dirty in this movie and leave the details for the next bullet point.

- This is kinda a subpoint of Kiera and Tori being in too similar positions of class, but I literally don’t see why Kiera can’t solve her own problem, take all her money and strike out as an independent artist. We aren’t really presented a reason why she feels so chained to her job, like is someone else depending on the money she rakes in or something? Also with the increasing accessibility of tools and platforms for artists to be independent it makes her struggle more... stagnant? is that the right word?

Also I swear to god I thought the ending of the movie was that Kiera was fired from her job and starts playing independently at cafes. Apparently I jedi mind tricked myself or something but in my opinion that would’ve been a better ending for her. It’s at least a change and forces her to take more time for herself, and she’d probably be fine financially since she’s not exactly a pauper as a popstar.

- I thought the problem of the story being unbalanced was going to get resolved later on but no, if anything it kinda gets worse. Tori gets the lion’s share of development. In the beginning it’s established that she has problems taking responsibility/doesn’t see why she has to take responsibility, has a major revelation pertaining to that when she realizes that being so irresponsible played into being ignorant of the plight of her people, and then later addresses that by putting infrastructure in place to prevent a repeat of the drought and programs to address the problems the drought caused.

In comparison, Kiera’s conflict is established as feeling overworked/too busy to the point where she has lost time and pleasure for her own hobbies. It’s kinda implied she’s burnt out but any simple but meaningful exploration of this falls flat as soon as she and Tori switch places. In her parallel scene to Tori’s revelation about Meribella’s plight, she gets inspired to come up with song lyrics again... and this is about as far as her half of the story goes. She doesn’t meaningfully reflect on this in any shape or form so her whole initial conflict literally dies in the water, there’s no major revelation for her to parallel Tori’s. What makes matters worse is that this has no resolution. The movie ends with the dual concert (at least my version does). Kiera presumably goes back to her status quo as an overworked popstar and nothing changes. This is not an arc, this is a flat line.

Which is a real fucking damn shame because in my HUMBLE opinion she’s the most interesting character of the two, esp if you parse apart her section of “To Be a Princess/To Be a Popstar”. Like come on. “No time for friends except for your dog and your guitar”? “Love every fan no matter how bizarre they are”? “To be a popstar is to never act your age”??? Guys she’s one half of the leading main couple you can’t just leave her storyline out to dry like this.

- The villain he... sorry he’s no Preminger. man needs a therapist for his chipmunk PTSD is all I’ll say.

- The prince literally adds nothing, just cut him out of the story already. Also his face looks weird.

- (edit) I forgot this part: It has the same problem as Princess and the Pauper where the royal family is still in charge except kinda worse because in this movie its implied the royal family willfully turned a blind eye to the suffering brought by the drought and pretended it didn’t exist as opposed to addressing it. Victoria may have the interests of the people in mind but there’s no guarantee her descendants will, they’re still under the whims of the royal family.

And... yeah thats it. Almost decent but they literally didn’t follow through with an arc with one half of their leading couple. That kinda impacts the movie a lot, jussayin. Goodnight, next time we might do Mariposa.

#voice of the lost #barbie #barbie as the princess and the popstar #livereact

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 3 years

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Any tips got people starting their creative writing degree in September? Xxx

oh this is a great question!! sometimes I forget I will literally be an upper year next year :) how did this happen :) still feel like I’m in grade 9 :) lol! but I do have tips!

1. Trust in the process

Okay, this sounds a little gimmicky, but what I mean is, let things happen the way they’re going to happen. I was extremely prepared when I entered first year, and even more prepared for second year, and I’m not saying this is a bad thing--in fact, I recommend having something small (even an idea) at the ready, just in case of emergency writer’s block, time constraints, etc, but I’d love to go back in time and tell myself to chill! I wanted so badly to experience the idea of the Ideal Writing Degree Experience, and so kind of missed out on the actual (great) experience I had in front of me! so let it happen! Take creative risks! stray from your plan if your gut is telling you to!

2. Get involved

In first year, I found it SO helpful to get involved in writer events, or clubs on my campus. I joined my department’s lit journal (which I shall be managing in the fall!) as an intern, and made sure to attend most, if not all the writing events they had on campus, including general fine arts mixers. Though I am a super introverted person, it was actually super fun to make connections, and even so, just make memories of faces that I could later recognize on campus. This is also super helpful for getting to know people in your program! On orientation day, I really tried to huddle with some other Writing undergrads, and that was super fun because we just chatted about our writing backgrounds, etc! If you’re anxious like me, coming up with literal talking points could be helpful the night before, kind of like an “About Me” refresh?? Like, oh my name is Rachel and I write literary fiction, also I am from Toronto, would be what I would say in case someone asked (usually people were very excited to hear I was from out of province lol so this worked as a great talking point!). ALSO!! off campus events! go to readings! Readings are 100% more accessible to attend where I go to school versus where I live at home, and so I def took advantage of this by making sure to go out to multiple literary events! It’s nice to make connections, chat with the readers, or even other audience members! Usually people asked me if I was a student and what program I was in, etc, and because being a Writing major is kind of a Fun Thing To Be at a reading, this was always a great talking point!

3. Remember your writing degree is still work

I know a lot of creative degree pals give this advice to remind undergrads that their creative work for school is still work so they should sit down and do it rather than leaving it to the last minute, but I kind of like to flip this idea on its head by saying: it’s okay to prioritize your “non-academic” work versus your “traditionally academic” work! For example, I took many, many English classes this year, and put about 20x more of my time into those classes than my literal writing classes. I am a writing major?? lol! I could’ve gotten an English degree closer to home?? I did not come here for this?? I think it was easy for me to write off putting time into my writing classes because I was “good at that” and “needed to focus on my academic work” (whatever academic even means), but if you’re there for writing, don’t be afraid to actually... do your writing?? Fighting internalized stigma about my own degree is something I still work on! It’s still work! Which means it’s hard, and you should take breaks (and extensions if necessary/if you can) just like with any other work.

4. If you want to, prep a little

Like I mentioned above, this could be a helpful thing to do, though I do caution over preparation because that was me!! and I feel like one may learn more if they have more room to fail (which sometimes preparation reduces?) but this is also dependent on the type of person and student you are, so disregard if necessary! When I entered first year, I didn’t prep actual work, but made sure I knew what was expected of me so I could mentally prepare myself, haha. I knew there were 5 assignments for 5 different genres (because of COVID they actually axed 1 genre which I am GRATEFUL for rip playwriting), so I kept this in mind throughout the term. If I got an idea for a poem but knew we wouldn’t be doing poetry for the next term, I’d write the poem in advance, or write down the idea. A little bit of prep can help alleviate stress especially if you’re transitioning out of high school, but I do tend to overdo it!

5. SUBMIT your work!!!

This is also totally okay NOT to do if you don’t want to publish your work, but if you are interested in curating a portfolio, it doesn��t hurt to start submitting your work early to literary magazines! I know some people are too nervous to send out their work in first year, but if you’re comfortable with it and want to, go for it! I submitted my work for the first time in first year, and got 2 stories published. If you want to be published, you don’t have to wait for upper years to put your work out there! If you have a piece you like, send it out! This also includes on-campus writing contests if your school runs these. I entered one not thinking anything of it and won first place (HOW), and these experiences were fantastic in shaping my experience in the program and also showing me submitting your work is not so scary!

6. Talk to your profs and TAs

Y’ALL I did not realize how much I talk to my profs and TAs and how much the pandemic took that away from me! It’s so critical to form relationships with the people who are teaching you, not only because they’ll help you to shape your work, but also because they’re a great start to networking! In first year, I sat down with my TAs or prof for literally every single piece I wrote, and the amount I learned is astronomical. I guess this depends on your program, but generally, writing programs are generative based rather than super lecture heavy, and you learn by doing hands-on work (workshops, etc). I learned so much (sometimes, even more) by talking to my teachers. They want to help you and it’s a great way to get to know them. I only attended office hours once in COVID (and it was Zoom office hours), and I certainly feel a difference in my experience. Reach out! When I took an intro journalism course, my prof line-edited every one of my pieces by hand, and while it was nerve-wracking because she is a fantastic writer and a tough critic (and literally right in front of me), it was so rewarding when she’d point out where I’d improved. She was also great at taking her time to explain how I could better my piece. You can’t do that if you’re sitting in a 200 person lecture, but you can if you take some time for a one on one! Highly recommend if you can (coming from someone with social anxiety)!

7. Make friends

I will admit it! I still have not done a great job at this lol. But if you can, try to reach out to your peers. You’re all there to learn, and it’s actually so fantastic to meet likeminded people! My peers are incredibly talented, smart individuals, and when we’re in person, I’d love to chat with them more! In first year, it can be scary to reach out, which is why I did this minimally, though I still made an attempt to jump out of my comfort zone whenever possible. It’s nice to recognize faces on campus and wave at people/have a short conversation before you head into class. Like I said, I interned for my on campus lit journal in first year, so I had to reach out a few times to my classmates to participate in events etc, so this was actually kind of easier for me since I had a lil ~motive that allowed me to muster the courage to chat with people! It could be as easy as joining in on a convo of a subject of interest (for example, a lot of people at my school especially in my program, love D&D. I have no idea what that is/how that works, but if I did, this might be something to talk about if you love it also)! Also - follow people on social media if you can find them, or start a group chat!

8. Don’t be afraid to speak up for your needs

This will be my last tip, and it might be the scariest tip of all, but if you are not happy with how something is going in your degree/classes, speak up about it! If something is not accessible to you, don’t be afraid to speak out about that. Idk if it’s just me, but I’ve been advocating for the betterment of my education since elementary school (why am I like this loooool), but especially in university, you’d be surprised by how receptive some people can be! Shoot your prof or TA an email if you have concerns, and see what they say. Rarely, they can be assholes, but most of the time, they’ll try to work with you to make your class experience better. This is why I also recommend filling out your course evals. Most great profs really want their students to enjoy their classes and succeed, so don’t be nervous to speak out about your needs if xyz isn’t being met.

hope that helps!

#asks

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kashimos-hajime · 4 years

Text

cookies and rings and things | b.b.

summary: “What do you want for Christmas?” “I’ve got everything I want right here.”

WARNINGS: swearing, but it’s all soft, cute and just love!!! lots of love :) pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 8.3k

a/n: written for @sunmoonandbucky for no particular reason other than i saw that she needed fluff and i was more than happy to provide. make sure y’all show her some love bc she just ACED AN AUDITION and literally,, i love her,,, so much,,, NOW HAS A SEQUEL TITLED: POSITIVELY PERFECT

“How much do you love me?” she asks, winter gleaming on her bare skin and firelight playing in her eyes. It’s Boxing Day of 2024, the first truly normal one after the Blip, and Bucky watches as snow falls like feathersoft stars outside his window at the compound.

“Count the snowflakes, multiply by a million.”

“Big number,” she muses and he can feel her nails scratch at his waist lightly as her socked feet nudge against his. He wonders what kinda insane person wears socks without any clothes on, but then decides that it’s the kind of person who’s fallen in love with him.

“Well, I love you more than that,” he replies. She wrinkles her nose and snuggles in tighter against him. The fur lining of those ridiculous reading socks tickle the inside of his calf as she curls against him and he doesn’t think he should be able to love a girl this much. Then, he can feel the cold metal of the ring she slid onto her own finger less than twenty-four hours ago and realizes that he had thought a lot of things shouldn’t be possible, and yet they still are.

“Dork,” she murmurs against his neck.

“Lover,” he replies against her ear.

Bucky doesn’t mean to notice her. He’s running laps around the newly rebuilt compound, she has a whistle in her mouth as she shouts drills around the metal thing. Sharp cracks of ‘Pick up the pace!’ and ‘Move it, kids!’ nip at his ears when he runs by and Sam says something about how he’s getting distracted. He hadn’t realized at all.

“Who’s she?” he asks, wiping the sweat from his brow. He’s just finished five laps and he stands on the inner edge of the track, watching as recruits run past. A towel is slung over his shoulder and Sam skids to a stop in front of him, stepping in beside the soldier. The rookies’ shirts are soaked and they pant as they whip past, but none dare to slow down when she stands waiting just a few metres away.

“New trainer.” Sam’s got a glint in his eye Bucky thinks he knows when he says her name. He’s just getting to know the guy but he’s a pretty easy book to read anyway. “Heard she’s a hard ass on the newbies but it’s ‘cause she has a rep.”

“Then they’re getting what they signed up for,” he says shortly. Despite the cool autumn breeze brushing against the thick heat of his neck, his heart burns into his chest as he heaves another breath.

“Alright, walk it off. We meet by the pool in fifteen.” She catches their attention again, and Bucky notices she’s wearing a half-zipped up windbreaker and joggers, and nothing underneath. Not that he intends to notice. Her hair is tied up back, and he kinda can’t help but look at her neck and her collarbones and, oh, no, he’s looking at her black sports bra—

“Dude.” He blinks at Sam’s amused snap. “You’re staring.”

“Shut up.” Bucky’s voice roughens up as his cheeks begin to flash red and he hides his face in his towel when Sam nudges him with a sweaty elbow.

“She’s cute. I can get you her number,” Sam says but Bucky lets out such a strangled sound that both Sam and the cute trainer look at him.

If it were possible, Bucky’s skin would melt off.

“Hey,” Sam calls her over by a name Bucky can barely hear because he’s too busy staring at his feet and wishing the ground would swallow him up. “You’re the new trainer, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Her voice is so much softer than before. Guess it’s like that when you’re not yelling at recruits and talking to Avengers. Bucky raises his head, absently running a hand through the few strands of hair that’ve fallen from his ponytail. “You’re Sam, right? I feel like we’ve met before.” She cocks her eyebrow and tilts her head. “Did you use to live in Washington?”

“Yeah, I did.” Sam’s smile pinches his cheeks and Bucky’s lips press together in a displeased frown when a grin flickers across her face. “Did you work in the VA? ‘Cause you’re starting to look familiar.”

“Yeah.” When she smiles, it morphs her face into something startling warm and lovely. Bucky dips his head low, trying to act like he’s not really part of the conversation—a mere bystander—because if he looks at her for too long, he knows it’s just too intense to be anything but creepy. “I think we used to bump into each other at the gym. I was a physical therapist at the office, and—”

“You made cookies any chance you got, I remember now!” Sam exclaims and she laughs loudly. “You always made my vets’ day when your cookies came in, so thank you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m here now. It’s funny how life works.” She shrugs and Bucky can feel her gaze land on him. “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met.” Her name slips off her tongue like poetry and Bucky, midway through a swipe of sweat down his neck, looks at her with narrowed eyes. He doesn’t mean to glare, but he’s caught so off-guard by the sudden change in direction of their conversation that he isn’t even a part of that his face reverts to something less than friendly.

“Bucky,” he says stiffly, although he doesn’t know why she doesn’t know the names of every Avenger. She probably does and is just being polite, a stern voice in Bucky’s head reprimands and he can feel Sam almost sigh in disappointment. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too. You haven’t tried my cookies yet, so I haven’t proven my worth but I promise they’ll change your life,” she says, completely unphased. Bucky guesses she’s more than used to grumpy guys. “Fall equinox is tomorrow, so wait just a tiny bit longer?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Bucky doesn’t understand the question at the end of her sentence but she seems satisfied with his answer as she shoves her hands into the pockets of her windbreaker. “You probably have to get back to work,” he adds lamely and she turns to look at the compound. The autumn breeze curls hair against her cheek and Bucky bites his lip to resist the urge.

“I’m free later tonight,” she says, eyes squinting a bit when she turns back to Bucky and Sam clears his throat when Bucky himself doesn’t say a word. It’s like he’s drowning in her eyes. There’s something so effortlessly patient and warm in her gaze that Bucky can’t help but just… rest. It’s almost as if he can rest in her presence.

“So is Barnes.”

“What?” He snaps back to reality harshly, as usual. “We’re supposed to—“

“Actually, I can handle it on my own. She, however—” At this, Sam gestures wildly to the trainer who stands there, the beginnings of an amused grin growing on her face—“needs help with cookies.”

“I can’t,” he croaks after a minute of stuttering, and he simply clamps his mouth shut, averting his eyes. She’s too pretty for him.

“I mean, company is always welcome,” she says, but he shakes his head.

“I’ll just get in your way and I don’t wanna mess up your cookies.”

“You can’t mess them up. I always think of something and it always works out.” She reaches over to take hold of his flesh arm and despite the coolness of the day when they’re not running their lungs out, her hand burns against his skin. She gently squeezes his elbow. “Don’t worry so much, okay? I’ll be in the kitchen after dinner in the mess.”

She lets go too soon and slips her hand back into her pocket as Bucky opens his mouth to reply.

“I’ve got to go to the pool,” she says, jerking her head towards the compound. Her eyes flicker to Sam whose grin nearly splits his face. “Bye, Sam. It was nice seeing you again, although I suppose we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other now.”

“Big building,” he says with a shrug. “Who knows?” She chuckles lightly, and then her gaze slides to Bucky.

Her eyes just seem to find his so calmly. It’s magnetic, and if he believed in love at first sight, this would be it.

“See you later, Sergeant.” She magpie salutes and he can’t help but mimic like a monkey, a lazy swipe of his finger from his brow. It’s so relaxed, so slow and he’s slouched on one hip, his metal hand on his towel, that he thinks he’s never felt so light. It’s almost routine—he could get used to this.

Man, it’s so easy with her.

Her smile brightens remarkably and she heads back to the compound with a little spring in her step.

Sam waits until she’s inside before grabbing Bucky by the neck and giving him a noogie.

“You gotta dress up nice, man,” Sam advises like he’s on the same level as Tan from Queer Eye. Bucky stares at his reflection in the floor-length mirror and frowns in response.

“We’re baking, not going to a gala.” Maybe I should take her to one. Get invited to enough of them as it is, a part of him muses, but he quickly chases that thought of his head. “Besides, she just saw us earlier today sweating like dogs so I don’t really think she’ll care if I show up in a t-shirt and shorts.”

“But this is your first date, man. You gotta dress to impress.” Sam shuffles through Bucky’s closet whilst its owner gapes at him.

“It’s not a date.”

“Yeah, and I’m not Captain America.”

“Shut up, Sam.” Bucky catches the pair of dark washed jeans and a cozy little sweater Wanda said would be cute on him. Glancing at his reflection in the mirror, he sighs. The warm white and the dark blue are so not his style. His style is black in different shades and fabrics and he is going to kill Sam. “This? I’ll look like—”

“Husband material. You’ll look like a straight up husband. She will cuff you on the spot,” Sam declares much to Bucky’s annoyance. “Are you gonna wear the photostatic veil Banner programmed for you?” He glances over to see Sam holding the mesh of tech, and he frowns thoughtfully.

“Should I?” He hasn’t had the opportunity to try it on, and although he knows everyone is used to his metal arm… He sighs. This is way more complicated than the forties. “Yeah. Good impression, right?” he says lamely and Sam claps him on the back, helping him seal it to his metal arm. As the nano-sized cells connect to the metal plates, a fleshy color blooms from the shoulder down and he feels like silk brushes against the tiny fibers of his arm. He can feel every single little cell, buzzing in a way that’s barely even noticeable. Bucky hopes that when he doesn’t focus on it, it’ll fade into the back of his mind.

“Atta boy. Come on. We’ve got dinner and then it’s time for your date! Wanda made paprikash.”

“Great,” Bucky intones dully, nerves biting at his stomach. He has no appetite for this. “I love paprikash.”

“We don’t sulk on first dates, Barnes.”

“It’s not a fucking date!”

After a dinner full of questions from Dr. Banner on how the photostatic veil was feeling and from everyone else on why, Bucky volunteers to do the dishes and clean up to make sure everything is spotless for when she comes in. Despite confusion among the rest of his colleagues, Sam assures them that ‘this is the plan, guys. Barnes’s got a hot date coming over.’

This, of course, only results in Bucky threatening to throw a skillet at him.

He wipes down the countertops, cleans the sink, and reorganizes the fridge while he waits for her, and he absently wonders what kind of cookies she intends to make. Chocolate chip, jam, sugar, shortbread…

Ingredients! His eyes widen and he turns to look at the dark pantries in slight horror. I should probably get them out for her. And measuring spoons, that’s what she needs, right? His stomach is in knots as he runs around the kitchen island, trying to find all the tools they might need. He tries to think of when Wanda had last made something sweet—what had she used? He ducks to pull out the biggest drawer, relieved to find three metal bowls of different sizes.

“Small, medium, large,” he murmurs under his breath, and he puts them all out beside the other instruments he thinks might be needed. A whisk, a bunch of different spoons, a glass cup and metal scoops… He glances around and tries to figure out what he’s missed before deciding to just open up every possible drawer and cupboard, and see what pricks his imagination.

He only gets to the second set of drawers when a soft chuckle catches his attention.

Whipping around, he feels his heart drop into his stomach when he spots her leaning against the doorframe. Her hair is pulled away from her face, and she has a book and aprons hugged tight to her chest.

“I didn't want to disturb you,” she says, an impish curl to her mouth. Bucky steps back from the kitchen island as she walks around and her gaze sweeps his collection. “It was cute.”

“Not many people can sneak up on me,” he says, a bit defensive as a flush makes its way up his neck. He doesn’t mean to sound like it, but maybe it’s the embarrassment of being caught that makes him oddly proud of his work.

“Not many people help me bake cookies,” she replies, standing next to him. She sets down the book and aprons down and he can catch the faint whiff of dinner at the mess hall clinging to her t-shirt. His heart hammers hard enough he’s sure even the deaf would be able to hear it as she gently plucks at different tools, thinking about what they will and won’t need.

Not the thing that looks like a weird wire version of brass knuckles, got it.

“Uh, pastry cutter,” she names, returning it to its place without a mistake. “We won’t really need it since we’re not cutting up big portions of fat.”

“Good to know.” He nods and writes that down in his head. “Anything else we don’t need?”

“We can use it all if you want,” she says with a laugh living in her voice. “It doesn’t really make any difference to me.”

“Okay, well, let’s just get started, then.”

“Aprons first.” She unfolds the two things, one white and navy, and the other black. The black one says Kiss the Cook and Bucky feels a flash of heat at the print. “Which one?”

The white and navy striped apron has a blue pocket with tiny white polka dots, the same pattern frilling the bottom and on the shoulder straps. The black, it’s clearly larger and for a man, and Bucky wonders if these were truly the only aprons she had or if she only bakes with guys she’s interested in. A flicker of jealousy runs through him. How many guys cooked with her before him?

Stop it. Not a date. Bucky shakes his head and shrugs.

“Whatever looks best on you,” he says. “Not that either of them would look bad or anything, but—”

“Thanks, Sarge.” Her eyes crinkle when she smiles big enough and she slips the black apron over her neck before sticking out the white and navy one to him. He stares at the piece of fabric for a moment before slipping his arms through and twisting his arms to tie a tight knot. She does the same and it’s pulled tight against her, Kiss the Chef smack in the middle of her chest.

“So where do we start?” He swallows because he thinks he’s just signed up for more than he bargained for. He looks at all these raw ingredients, ingredients he’s pulled because he thought it might be useful and doesn’t even know where to begin.

“First, we have to decide how many cookies and which type,” she says, pulling over the book and making space for it. She opens it up and his eyes widen at all the tabs poking out, different colours surely meaning different things. It’s an organized mess.

With a piece of scrap paper and a pencil, she writes down the number of required cookies. “Around there,” she says with a swift circle around a number bigger than Bucky had thought. “And these are the cookies we can make that everyone can eat,” she continues, writing a list down one side and then sectioning it off with a line, “these include nuts,” another section, “and these will have icing on them.”

“That’s a lot of planning for the fall equinox, ma’am,” he begins, trying not to sound daunted. She laughs, her eyes darting to his face. Her stare burns into his cheek as she shrugs.

“Hope I’m not scaring you away.”

No. Never. “Maybe a little.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll do the math and teach you a few tricks, and you’ll be a natural. Promise.” He’s surprised by how easily he believes her. As she talks about all the different types of cookies, the textures and ingredients one can use, Bucky finds himself slipping. He lets her scoot closer as she shows him how to sift the dry ingredients.

“Just tap it against your hand like this,” she says and Bucky copies her. She shows him how to prep the pan, and he preheats the oven. They mix the dough with their hands, and Bucky watches as her skilled hands manipulate the oily dough she’s created like it’s second nature. He glances down at his own pile in a glass bowl that doesn’t look too shabby, and almost smiles. “Yours looks really good, Bucky.”

“Thanks.” His eyes stick to the chocolate chips and he pokes it with a half-proud smile. “I had a great teacher.” She laughs again. She’s easy to laugh and smile, and every time she does either of those things, something in him feels like it’s going to burst with light. He wishes he was like that, but at the same time, he feels brighter than he has in days. Maybe it’s something about how she treats him like any other guy, or maybe it’s that she makes him smile more than anyone has in a while.

“Well, this is only batch one and two out of like, twenty billion,” she says as they begin to shape their cookies. Bucky had ripped the parchment paper for their trays and laid them flat and while they roll these balls of chocolate chip cookie dough, he can’t help but listen to her go on and on about things she wants to talk about. Life since the Blip, the recruits, hobbies and childhood memories. He can’t help but give his two cents too, and she tilts her head as she listens, a soft smile on her face.

“You’re a great listener,” she comments as he sets the trays in the oven and closes the door. She sets the timer on her phone and begins to prepare for the next batch.

“It was all I could do for a while,” he says with a shrug. “You get good at stuff you do for a long time.” Her actions slow and she turns to stare at him. He focuses on cleaning up his work space, swallowing down the smell of butter and sugar. “Guess something came out of it,” he adds uncomfortably when the silence grows. He looks beside him, at her, where there is a smear of flour across her cheek, where she merely stands there in silence, and sighs. He’s ruined it. “Sorry.”

“Is that why you hid your hand?” she asks softly and his eyes widen noticeably. “I didn’t want to ask to make you uncomfortable, but I did wonder.” She looks down to make sure she’s measuring enough sugar and she closes her eyes for a moment, clearly cursing herself. Bucky wishes he could say something, but his mouth doesn’t click with his brain. “Forget I even brought it up. I’m sorry, I—”

“I wore it for tonight,” he blurts out and she looks at him, eyebrows furrowed together. “It’s a photostatic veil Banner coded for me and… and I wore it for you.”

“Why? It’s not like I’m afraid of it.”

You should be. “I guess I just wanted to be normal for a night,” he sighs and she stops sifting for a moment to really look at him. Setting down the sieve, she leans on the counter and places the other hand on her hip, waiting for him to explain patiently. “Sam called it a date, and I think it got to my head.”

“Oh,” she breathes. He tears off the photostatic veil carefully, letting the mesh crumple in his hands and she swallows. The air is thick with an emotion neither of them can quite name and Bucky is quite sure she will never want to see him again. God, is this what it’s like to flunk a date? He sets down the mesh on a clean countertop, watching the hologram flicker as he flexes his metal fingers. They gleam in the artificial light and he hides it behind his back, shame pooling in his chest.

“I’m so sorry. I… I didn’t want to make it awkward for you,” he mutters and she reaches to touch his metal wrist tentatively. Kiss the Chef wrinkles against her chest and his gaze falls to the floor. He doesn’t quite know how to describe how utterly disappointed in himself he is when she steps closer, fingers curling over his. No pity in her eyes, she squeezes his palm carefully.

“I don’t want you hiding yourself away,” she murmurs, tilting her head so he is forced to look at her. His eyes stare dejectedly into hers and she smiles, using her other hand to cup his face. Powder dusts against his eyes and he squints. The smell of dough clings to her skin and she smiles fondly at him, fingers stroking his cheek. “I like you just as you are.”

“You like me?” he asks, confused, and she chuckles. “All I’ve done is help you make cookies.”

“‘Course I like you, dork. You’re hot.” A teasing bite in her tone, she taps his nose with her thumb before returning her palm to his cheek. “And I know you didn’t have control of anything in your past, and you’re trying your best, Bucky. That’s all any of us can do, now that we’re back.” Her eyes avert for a moment, and then find his again. There is a gooey softness that reminds him of molten chocolate and snow on Christmas eve. “I really do like you, you know. Have a big ol’ school girl crush on you, to be honest.”

“On me?” Why not anyone else? He’s bewildered. Sam, or that new receptionist on two, or even some other trainer because…

Frankly, Bucky thinks he’s lost all appeal to those who know him since 1945.

She takes his silence as rejection and it shows in the uncertainty that mars her face. Bucky wishes he knew how to articulate that he is insanely attracted to her and how the way she laughs makes his heart believe it can jump mountains, but instead he is stunned into a quiet that fills the kitchen. He only met her a few hours ago. How can he even begin to explain it?

“We have cookies to make,” he says instead, eyes flitting to the open ingredients and he turns his head against her hand. She springs apart from him, cold rushing to fill in the space she’s left behind as she draws her hands towards herself.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess we do.” Her face falls and she grabs the sieve, a wobbly smile built on her lips. “Forget I brought it up, then.” She begins to sift her dry ingredients once again and he mentally groans to himself. Why is he such an idiot?

He mumbles her name softly, and she pauses, turning just so to look at him.

“I like you, too,” he says with a difficulty that shouldn’t be there, because it’s true. “I know I just met you today, but you’ve already made me feel… different, I guess”

“Different?” A tentative, stronger smile begins to curl the corner of her mouth and he nods, his lips twitching upwards. His hand, flesh and warm, settles on her hip all on its own, a fluttering touch that he is completely unsure of as he gently turns her to face him fully. She’s so damn gorgeous with flour on her face and eye bags beneath her eyes that he’s sure she will inevitably make his heart burst. It pounds in his head as he tries to grab at reasons he needs to step away, to stay away, but his heart battles his head ferociously.

I’ll hurt you and I can’t stand the thought. I’ll hurt you or kill you or lose control and you can’t stop me and I don’t want to hurt you ever. His brain screams the words H.Y.D.R.A had thrown at him, the looks handlers had tossed at him flashing in his head—terrified, wild dog, monster.

I want to protect you, I want to love you, you light me up, I can protect you. I won’t hurt you. I’ll be better for you, if you could love someone like me. His heart whispers, louder than the silence. It’s the forties boy in him, the son his mama raised and the brother Rebecca loved, and he can recall the faces he’s adored—Steve, Ma, Becca.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Bucky murmurs and she hesitantly touches his face. His eyes flutter at her gentle touch and she takes it as an invitation to cup his face once again. “It’s just… you.”

“I’m not special,” she tells him bashfully, words brushing against his lips as he closes his eyes for a moment against her hand. When he opens them once again, he finds her watching, transfixed. There is a new serenity in her eyes, one that tells him she is completely enchanted on something that cannot be him—he is anything but an angel.

“You really are.”

“Now, now, Sergeant Barnes.” Her voice is warm as whiskey and he can get drunk off the sound of her laugh. He can feel her smile just by how her energy shifts and Bucky falls, for the first time in his life; he falls harder than he ever has. “Go on like that and you’ll get anything you want from me.”

“Even permission to kiss the chef?” Bucky’s words, thick and hot, jumble in his mouth. Her nose brushes his, sparks tingling in his veins as her hand trails to cusp the back of his neck.

“That permission will always be granted without question.”

He kisses her softly, hesitance laced through his lips and it is only when she crushes him against her does he bury his hand in his hair and kiss her like she is meant to be kissed: feverently, reverently, forever reminded that Bucky Barnes is lucky enough to be completely in love with her.

Bucky is quite sure Sam is in love with his girlfriend in the fact that he’s in love with the fact that his girlfriend is possibly in love with Bucky. Bucky himself doesn’t think that she could possibly be in love with him, but Sam is more than eager to prove otherwise.

“Sam asked what I’m getting everyone for Christmas.” She’s on the shoulder press, the muscles in her back flexing and waning in a slick sheen of sweat while Bucky completes his set of push-ups.

“He’s thinking too far ahead,” he mutters. “It’s only the start of November.”

“Well, you know him. I think he just wants an opinion on what I’m getting you.” Standing up, she grabs her water bottle, squirting a stream of ice-cold water into her mouth before laying down beside him. “What do you want for Christmas?”

He pauses mid-way up from his two-hundredth push-up. “You don’t need to get me anything, doll.” The nickname is still a bit strange on his tongue but he thinks he can get used to it.

“Yeah, but I wanna get you something.” She juts out her bottom lip in an adorable pout, a telltale sign she wants him to kiss her and he leans on one hand to press a quick kiss onto her lips before resuming his workout. He knows the signs on what she wants fairly easily now. He’s grateful she’s spelt it out so many times for him.

Playing with his fingers means she wants attention, a pout is a kiss, suctioning kisses to the neck means she’s feeling some sorta way and he’s more than happy to oblige that feeling. There’s a long list of little tells that Bucky’s starting to think it’s a whole other language.

“How about cookies?” he deflects and she rolls her eyes, getting up and sucking down some more water.

“I make cookies for everyone. You deserve something special,” she argues and he sighs. “I really want to make our first Christmas special.” He lies down and pushes on his palms, stretching out in a cobra pose while she rolls over into the splits. He pulls back into child’s pose while she leans forward and he’s thankful for the silence.

What do I want? he wonders. What do I want that I don’t have already? His eyes drift to her form only a few centimetres away and he thinks, Nothing.

“I’ve got everything I want right here,” he intones seriously, crawling forward and she turns to him, eyes wide. Sitting upright, she changes legs. “I guess I want nothing to change.”

“Dork,” she mumbles, and a sticky heat pools in his face as she pokes his cheek. He sits down and she offers him his water bottle with a shake. He shakes his head, the argument that his own is only in the locker room. “Come on. Locker room’s too far away from me.” A sweat drop tracks down her jaw and he smiles softly, brushing it away. Legs crossed, he takes it without taking a sip. “Besides, I told you you can take what you want. I don’t mind.”

“Okay,” he says, knowing full well it just doesn’t feel right to take back the hoodies she’s stolen from him. Maybe one by one, he’ll take them back and wear them for at least twenty four hours before giving them back. Then, his scent will stay with her. “What do you want for Christmas, then?”

“I—” Her sentence is cut off by an alert on his phone, one they both know not to ignore and she sighs. There is disappointment, their little bubble popped with a simple text. He sets down her water bottle to get it, gut dropping at the message displayed on his screen. “How long is it?”

“Emergency response in Cairo, I don’t know,” he murmurs. Pocketing his phone, he grabs his towel and rushes back to her. He grabs her face and presses a desperate kiss against her mouth, eyes squeezing shut and she mumbles words he can’t decipher against his grieving lips. Her fingers touch his jaw gently, a reminder that he must go, and he pulls away. “I’ll text you as soon as I can.”

“Stay safe.”

He smiles shakily and promises that he will.

“Barnes. We got a package for you.” Sharon Carter’s voice catches his attention from his sniper post and he blinks away the winter sun from his eyes. No movement still. “Merry Christmas.”

The blonde extends a box towards him, a slight smile curling her lips and he frowns at the stark bleakness of it. Black, and absorbing no light, it feels heavier than he thought it’d be.

“Thanks.” He shifts, his bones clicking as he glances out the tiny slit of a window. There hasn’t been movement for weeks. Crossing his legs, he sets the box before him and a tiny blue hologram pops up from a tiny hole in the center. His eyebrows furrow together as it scans his face and he squints.

“Facial scan complete: Hello, James Buchanan Barnes.”

F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice echoes in his small little perch and he still thinks it’s weird without having the side effect of Stark in his suit chasing after him to hear the A.I. but he shoves that uncomfortable feeling of the dead man out of his head. That is too much regret to unpack right now on a mission.

The box unfolds, the mechanical whir humming in his ears and a waft of sweet sugar rushes into his face as he peers within.

Cookies. Sugar cookies, butter cookies, frosting and crystal sprinkles, gingerbread, snickerdoodle, a note in her writing.

“She requested I ask you to read her note before eating the treats,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. says and Bucky pulls out her note. “She also requested that you stay safe, despite not being home for Christmas.”

Taking the blue cue card, he sighs at the mere sight of her writing. His heart aches much more than he realized and he wonders if she misses him half as much as he misses her.

Buck,

Times may be tough while we’re apart, but absence only makes the heart grow fonder. Stay safe, Sarge, and come back to me.

Merry Christmas. Forever thinking of you.

When he bites into one of those cookies, he melts into the wall he’s leaning to and closes his eyes, just imagining her standing in the kitchen with that Kiss the Chef apron tied tightly around her. The taste brings back memories, and brings him back home to New York, to her. Home, he muses wistfully, home is waiting for me with her laugh and smell and eyes. Home.

Bucky drops his bags as soon as he’s off the quinjet because he spots the dark blur that is his girlfriend in a track pants and a big poofy parka running down the road towards him. He barely gets his arms up in time before she’s flying into his arms and he lets out a grunt, stumbling back as he flings his arms around her waist and holds onto her tightly. Her legs squeeze his waist as she burrows her head into his neck and Sam laughs as he unpacks the equipment.

“Bucky,” she says, pulling back and his arms hold her to him still, gently supporting her back and her bottom. Her hand cups her face and she brushes hair out of his face, tracing a healing cut on his lip. “You’re home.” She embraces him again, thighs tightening as if she’s afraid to see him leave again and he merely closes his eyes, letting the first day of 2024 snow against his skin. “You’re home.”

“I’m home, lover,” he promises, and she laughs, face wet when she steps back onto solid ground again. He opens his eyes to admire her, a vision; a sight for sore eyes from the arms length he holds her at. The snow melts as it lands on her skin but it nestles in her hair, a frame of white for her pretty face that he’s missed far too much. “God, I’m home.”

She laughs, a watery smile surfacing as she leans up to kiss him. They are rapid, wet with emotion and she smiles against his lips, just laughing in relief. “I love you so much,” she whispers and he blinks, drawing back. Her face is the epitome of happiness as he gawks at her and she wipes at her eyes. “You don’t have to say it back, but I just… I love you.” She doesn’t look afraid, only confident in her feelings for him and he scoops her up, his heart bursting with sunlight.

“I love you, too,” he whispers into her ear, embracing her tightly. She lets out a tiny exhale at his strength but hugs him back tightly anyway. What is love if not hugs that barely allow you to breathe and kisses until you’re dizzy? Bucky doesn’t know. “God, I love you.”

Bucky learns a lot dating her.

She hums when she cuts his hair—which she does every so often—and likes to cuddle in her sleep. She bakes for every occasion she can think of and likes to spoil Bucky rotten. Although their jobs often keep them apart during the day, Bucky likes to just watch her in her environment, ordering the recruits around.

She has a different sport she favours for every season. Jogging in the fall, hockey in the winter, tennis in the spring and swimming in the summer. More often than not, she drags a happy Bucky with her to the rec centre and he’s more than happy to participate, whether he shows it or not.

She expresses her feelings through cooking, which Bucky has learnt the hard way. One time, they got into an argument over something stupid—he can’t even remember what started it—and came to the kitchen at 2AM to see her sitting at the kitchen island crying her eyes out and surrounded by baskets of muffins.

“Lover,” he had called out softly, already too loud for the eerie time between midnight and morning. “You’ve got a bit of a muffin problem.”

“I know,” she had replied dejectedly. “I don’t know what to do with all of it, Buck.”

They had donated it to shelters around the city, going on their own from street to street with baskets full of muffins. It becomes ritual, to have days where they bring baked goods and homemade meals to those who need it.

She doesn’t really know how to take care of herself, based on how she treats herself during assessment season, so Bucky has to pick up her slack and feed her more than caffeine. He feeds her diets that are balanced and healthy, and makes meals that he learns in his spare time to share with her while she shouts herself raw at the soldiers.

He remembers her favourite foods and music, and knows just how to put an exhausted girl to bed with makeup and bra off. He remembers to write when he’s gone for too long during missions, and he remembers her birthday, favourite colour, and which show she’s currently obsessing over. He always downloads the seasons to catch up so he understands what she’s talking about.

It’s safe to assume he knows when to propose, hell, he’d been ready the night they first baked together, but he just has to remember to catch her ring size. There’s so much of his mind cluttered with these useless yet utterly adorable facts about her that he can’t bring himself to delete, that it’s always the one thing he forgets to do.

Here is where his friends come in.

They’re all hanging in the lounge on a lazy autumn day. Their one year anniversary is coming up and Bucky and Sam are watching football while she talks to Wanda about potential plans.

“Popcorn,” Sam says without tearing his eyes off the screen, shoving the bowl in their general direction. Bucky grabs it unceremoniously, popping a few into his mouth while she twists in his grip to pass the bowl to Wanda.

“I have cookies cooling, boys,” she warns them and Wanda chuckles. The witch puts the bowl back on the table next to the empty nacho plate while Bucky’s girlfriend decides to curl against him, and his arm around her waist squeezes her close. His hand trails down to her thigh, hoisting her legs up while she peppers kisses on the underside of his jaw.

“I don’t understand anything about this game,” Wanda intones once commercials hit, amused when Sam lets out a shout of disappointment. Beeping from the kitchen, a timer, breaks whatever retort he was prepared to throw back at the Sokovian and Bucky lets out a whine when his girlfriend unwinds from his lap to get up.

“Sorry, babe, but I gotta get them before they get too cold,” she says and Bucky frowns before nodding. He cups the back of her neck, and she kisses him quickly before pulling away and skipping to the kitchen. Wanda immediately crawls into the space on the other side of Bucky on the couch, pulling out her phone while Sam leans over to whisper.

“She sends me pictures all the time,” Wanda begins nefariously and Sam pulls out a strip of paper, a line in pencil across it. As he rolls it up into a ring, Wanda leans over to show Bucky pictures of the girls’ conversation. “She adores all of them, but she cannot decide.”

“And here you go, man.” Sam gives the paper ring to Bucky. “Got it while she was taking a nap.”

“She wants silver rather than gold,” Wanda says.

“And she doesn’t care about a venue.”

“But she likes the idea of a seasonal wedding.”

“Dude, she wants your babies.”

“She wants two or three kids.”

Bucky’s head begins to spin as they continue to bombard him with facts or proof that she actually wants to spend a life with him, and he blinks, staring at the commercials that still flash in his face. Grabbing Wanda’s phone, he focuses on the images that his girlfriend had sent the witch, gorgeous silver rings with diamonds, some with less, some with more, and simply tunes the two out, trying to internally decide what he should buy her. Meanwhile, Sam and Wanda have fallen into some argument about whether or not Bucky’s wedding is going to be a summer or winter wedding, when a new voice pierces the air.

“Who wants cookies?”

Immediately, a hush falls over them. Bucky tears his eyes away from the phone just as Wanda snatches it back just in time for her to appear, striding into the room with the smell of cookies rushing in after her. She sends them an odd glance, and the trio of Avengers merely separate as she sets down the plate. A fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies are stacked ontop of a porcelain plate and Sam lunges forward to grab one while she picks one up delicately and resumes her place on Bucky’s lap.

“What were you three talking about?” she asks, amused, and he takes the cookie with a click of his mechanical arm. She tucks her head underneath his chin while his hand goes back to her thigh and he bites into the cookie.

“Nothing you gotta worry about,” he says. The game starts again and she can’t pipe up to argue without Sam telling them to shut up, so she doesn’t. Instead, she rests her head on his chest and Bucky hopes she doesn’t hear his heart beating like crazy in his chest.

By the tiny smile he can feel against his chest, she can hear it.

Bucky holds the ring in his pocket for four months.

He had bought it the very next day after the football game because if he had let it sit, the nerves would’ve gotten to him, but now, new nerves are causing him to become paranoid: waiting for the perfect moment, scared that she’ll find out.

He thinks the proposal should be grand and all about how much he loves her and how much she’s shown him and loved him and it needs to be perfect. It is anything but that.

“Morning,” she whispers as her eyes flutter open. She’s laying against him in their comfy, toasty bed, and he doesn’t want to move for Christmas festivities except they both have to—a charity breakfast for veterans where Bucky is speaking, then a novice hockey game because his girlfriend just had to teach the cutest little seven year old boys how to utterly destroy their opponents, and then dinner.

He traces shapes along the slope of her back lazily, craning his head to look at him and she smiles dazedly.

“Hey, lover.” He grins easier now, and when his smile splits his face, her own does too. “We’ve got a day ahead of us.”

“A day that’s way too long for Christmas,” she mumbles, closing her eyes and pressing her cheek against his chest. “Convince me to get up.” It’s still dark outside, a blissful 5AM full of snow delicately fluttering outside their window. He wraps a leg around her waist, pulling her close while she dozes and she lets out a contented sigh at his arm draped over her side.

“Don’t want to,” he replies, eyes closing. “Want you to stay right here with me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Kinda want to stay here forever,” he continues drowsily, eyes fluttering shut and she shakes in his arms with a silent laugh. “Wish everyday could be like this.”

“You wake up earlier, and maybe it could be,” she retorts. Of course the early bird in her is perfect for her morning drills with her recruits, but Bucky prefers to sleep in like the owl he is, and he lets out a snort, kissing her hairline. “Just saying.”

“I’m too busy catching up on your shows.” His arm tightens around her.

“Catching up. Liar. I know you were up at 2 AM this morning binge-watching.” She tilts her head up, eyes opening. A spark lights up her face and a mischievous curl of her lip tells Bucky she’s about to say something that’s going to make him blush. “Just admit you like Gossip Girl and go, babe.”

“Alright, I like it.” Rolling his eyes, he pecks her forehead and she smiles victoriously. It’s so adorable that Bucky, with less than three hours of sleep, adds, “God, I want to marry you.”

“What?”

Oh.

Shit.

Bucky is suddenly more awake than if someone had thrown him into an ice bath. She almost throws herself off of him, sitting up and he follows her with his eyes as she twists to turn on the lights. Golden light paints her a goddess, and her hair is messy atop her head as she stares at him with wide eyes.

Bucky sits up slowly, the blanket pooling around their waists, and she blinks at him as he chews on the inside of his cheek.

“Do you not want to get married?” he asks slowly, almost afraid. Although he’s nearly 100% certain she wants to be with him, a part of him still bites at his stomach with doubt. “Have… have I been looking at this wrong?” He doesn’t tear his eyes away, holding this staring contest as she continues to stare at him, lips slightly parted and he reaches over to touch her hand. “You okay, lover?”

“You wanna marry me?” she asks, and he nods slowly, fire rising in his stomach and crawling up his neck as he makes a mental note never to keep secrets from her because when he’s been running on three hours of sleep, he likes to spill his guts where he feels safe.

“I… I got a ring and everything.” He turns to open the drawer on his nightstand and pulls out the dark navy box, velvet brushing against his sleep-numb fingers. “Wanda and Sam helped, and I was going to make this a big thing, but—” He’s tripping over his words as he pries it open, and he watches as her gaze falls to the silver ring, the exact one from one of the pictures Wanda had shown him—”I know I don’t really deserve you, and god, you deserve better than a proposal at 5 AM but I really do want to marry you.”

“Buck—”

“I love you. I love you so much it’s crazy because I didn’t think anyone could love me, or that I could open my heart to someone like you, and I know you deserve more than this, a better man, but—”

“Bucky—”

“All I’m trying to say is… thank you. For loving me.” His sleep addled brain tries to scramble for more things to say, and he smiles, almost sad but so, so, very much in love. “Thank you for bringing laughter into my life again.”

“Bucky, you fucking dork,” are her first words and he blinks as she lunges into his body. The blankets twist and her warm muscles wrap around him as she peppers kisses all over his face. “You wonderful, wonderful man. I love you so much. I love you, I love you, I love you.” His arm props him up against her body as he holds onto the box and she straddles his waist, twisting to look at the box. Her smile is tender as she takes out the ring and slides it onto her finger and he smiles bashfully when she shows him the fit. He lets the velvet box slip from his hand to cup her waist and he sighs blissfully when she leans to kiss him.

“Remember when I asked what you wanted for Christmas last year?” she murmurs against his lips and he smiles as the cool metal of her new ring trails down his neck to his shoulder. “And you said you wanted nothing to change…”

“I guess I just didn’t want anything more than you,” he whispers fondly and she smiles, eyes closing as she knocks her forehead against his. “But this one change I can handle.”

“Yeah?” She opens her eyes to stare deeply into his and he smiles, a warm curl to his lip.

“Yeah.”

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yerrrabitch · 4 years

Text

A Ride Home

Y/N - Your Name

Y/B/N - Your Boyfriend’s Name

Y/UNI/N - Your University Name

Y/M - Your Major

C/Y - Current Year

It was a normal night. Well as normal as it could be. You and your boyfriend had a fight earlier in the car because your shirt hung “too low”. It wasn’t your fault that your breast spilled out of your shirt the way they did. However, Y/B/N hated that. He actually hated every time you wore clothes that showed any skin. It was suffocating. You compromised and wore his alumni sweater.

“Y/N!” a blonde from your 8AM yelled, ”Come dance with me!”

You put your red cup down and took her up on her offer. It wasn’t like you were doing anything but brooding anyway. Y/B/N had went into the house with some friends and you were in the backyard waiting. You hated this part. You’d come out with him every weekend to appease him. Truth was your feet, back and head hurt and you craved nothing more than your bed and the feeling of your fan blowing against your cheeks in the moonlight. But, like every weekend Y/B/N would make you feel bad for wanting rest. You went to school full time and worked part time at a local diner so that you could afford to stay in your apartment. He had graduated during your sophomore year and was living his best life while owning his own bar.

It wasn't like you hated being out; you were just tired. He didn't understand that. Despite hating your hours and your dedication to work and school, he never offered to help with your bills or spend the night in. It’s not like you’d accept anyway but, the thought that he would consider would’ve been nice.

“Y/N!”, she yelled while latching on to your arm. She had grown tired of waiting for you to come to her. She threw her head back and laughed as she grinded on you to the beat of a popular pop song. You could smell the alcohol on her breath and began to laugh. This was actually fun. You two began to dance together more provocatively and you hated being out less.

Two songs later and you needed a break. You both decided to get something to eat inside. You took off the sweater and put it on the counter. The house owner, Ralph, had laid out all kinds of cheap food. You gravitated towards the fruit while she dove at the pizza. You looked at your phone and saw it was 12:08 AM.

You had to be at work at 7 AM.

Y/B/N knew this and was still doing God knows what in the house. Irritation set in and you immediately felt your mood sour. You considered ordering an UBER and going home on your own. No. He brought me here, he needs to bring me home.

You called his phone twice and then sent him a text message.

Y/N: Hey, it’s late and I have work tomorrow.

Seen 12:15 AM

“You good, ma?” A tall man asked.

You didn't recognize him. He must be from out of town.

“I’m fine, thank you”

“You don't look fine.” He said eyeing you and the way you shifted from one foot to the other, “you need a fix or sum?”

You couldn't help the laughter that shot out of your mouth and filled the kitchen. He cracked a wide smile at you. He’s fine.

“No, I’m actually waiting for someone to come downstairs. I need to leave.”

“Who?” He asked raising an eyebrow, while leaning against the table and staring into your eyes.

“My boyfriend.” You deadpanned

“Yikes.”

“What?”

“If I was your boyfriend, I would've never left you alone.”

There’s no reason he shouldn't be answering his phone. Let me see where he is. You moved around the table and the man in front of you to find Y/B/N.

“Ma, let me take you home”

You stared at him for a minute.

“I need to find my boyfriend.” You said, putting an emphasis on the boyfriend part.

“If he’s in this house, right now. You’re single.”

You stop in your tracks and you feel tears well up in your soft, brown eyes. It had to be the liquor, you aren't sensitive.

“Excuse me”, your voice completely icy and your hands shaky. The blonde grabbed her pizza and went back outside, glad to escape whatever was happening in there.

“They're up there playing a stripping game. When I left nobody had pants on so if he's there now I can't imagine.”

You turned on your heel and flew up the stairs and followed the sound of the crappy 2008 hits into a game room. There he was, sprawled out beneath a girl while she sucked on his left nipple. You cleared your throat and everyone in the room paused, knowing who you were.

He opened his eyes after a second and jumped up in realization. His face morphed from fright to anger.

“Where’s the sweater?”

The nerve and audacity of this man. You caught him with a bitch sucking on his tiddy and he had the balls to ask you about what you were wearing? You started to laugh. You were borderline hysterical at this point.

“Die.”

You turn back around and go down the stairs opening your phone. You could handle that in the morning but, right now you needed to go home and go to sleep.

You sighed loudly and pulled your hair up into a bun. You didn't care that it'd have to stay like that until next wash day. You were overheating and irritated.

A low whistle broke you out of your blank stare into the street. You looked up and it was the man from the kitchen.

“Are you okay?” He asked, while sitting next to you on the steps.

“I will be. Once I get home and shower this off of me.”

“I can take you if you want.”

“It’s ok. I don't want to bother-”

“I offered. It’s not a bother if I offer.”

You eyed him weirdly. Why did this man have an interest in you?

“Ok but, windows have to be down the whole way there and you have to drive with one hand out the window” You stated firmly.

He chuckled.

“Ok shorty. I’ll do whatever you say”

*******

He drove a C/Y Acura with red interior. The car was well kept; it still smelled like a new car. You stared at the inside, instantly falling in love with the car and the way it felt.

“It’s just a car.” Your eyes snapped to his, warmth spreading across your neck.

“Sorry, it’s beautiful though”

“It was a gift.” He said while checking his shoulder and pulling away from the curb. A gift? Who’s he friends with? “From my aunt and cousin.”

“Cool. Usually I get books or dinners.” He cracked a smile.

“They’re overcompensating. They weren't around when they could've been.” He stopped at a light. The red illuminated his face and made his teeth look even whiter, if possible. You noticed for the first time that he had gold bottoms in. His long eyelashes brushed against his brown cheek as he cut his eye at you to gauge your reaction.

“Shorty.”

“Yes,” you said blinking out of your trance. He was delicious.

“I asked you which way”, he said smirking at you. He knew that you liked what you saw.

“Keep going straight.” You turned to the road, you wanted to keep an eye on your surroundings not only him.

“So why’re you in a rush to get home?”

“I have to work in a few hours.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. An action that turned you on more.

“You knew you had to work and you still came out? You’re wild.”

“I thought I would have left hours ago to be honest. Y/B/N and I got into a fight and I was distracting myself downstairs.”

“I saw you at like 9. You were nursing one cup man.” You felt stupid. You should've left after the argument. Matter of fact, you shouldn't have came.

“Did I ask you?”

“Look, it is what it is. I’m just saying I don't think you came here for you.”

He was right. Your entire relationship with Y/B/N wasn't for you. It started off to appease him and stop his antics. He had been following you around campus trying to get your number for weeks after spotting you in the cafe. You stayed with him because you found comfort in routine. Fuck him. You were tired.

“That doesn't matter.” You said closing the issue off from him.

“Ok. So tell me about something that does”

“Huh?”

“Tell me about yourself.” You left out a small laugh. He wanted to get to know you right after you walked in on God knows what with your ex.

“I just walked in on my ex cheating on me. Man let me be single for a second.”

“All I asked was for an introduction.” He cut his eye at you. You felt bad. All he wanted was conversation and you assumed he wanted you. I’m such a bitch.

“I’m a senior at Y/UNI/N and I am a Y/M.” You said quietly.

“All you do is study? I go there too.”

“I’ve never seen you around.”

“You’re too busy trying to help the world,” He smiled. “It’s admirable though.”

“Not the whole world. Only the brown part.”

He let out a earthquaking laugh that warmed every fiber of your being.

“I respect that. But, why?”

“I grew up with only my mom around. And I saw how it was for her, a single women, to help feed and raise my sister and I. Turn right at this light. I want to help women like that get the tools they need to succeed. It shouldn't be that hard to live a basic life.” You reminisced about all the late nights and early mornings your mom had just to make sure you kept food on the table. “I’m trying to get an internship with this youth outreach program this summer so I can get more roots in the area.”

“I can get you an internship but, it won't be around here”

You stared at him like he had three heads while he passed your street. You quickly told him to take the other way to your apartment to avoid the embarrassment.

“What do you mean?”

“My cousin built this outreach center in Oakland. I work there when I’m not in school so I can help my community. If you want I can connect y’all.”

You damn near jumped into this mans lap.

“Of course I want to! Thank you so much!”

“I’m gonna need your number then, sweetheart.”

He pulled into a parking space in front of your building and passed you his phone. You saved yourself and handed it back to him.

“What about you?”

“I want to help black people worldwide loosen the chains of their white oppressors.”

“Any progress?”

“I’m actually making a lot in Oakland right now. I think it’s important to help each other and lean less on the white man and his government. Only then can we truly break free from them.” His eyes were fiery as he explained his goal. His passion oozed out of him and captivated you.

“That sounds like a few generation long project.” You mused. You wanted to help.

“That’s fine. As long as I help my people. I don't care how long it takes.”

You wished you had met him instead of Y/B/N. This man had humor, looks, and layers and you'd just met him. All Y/B/N had was a strong name.

“You're passionate about this.”

“You should understand.”

“I do.” You looked at his arm still hanging out of the window. “Sorry about that. I just have to make sure you won't kidnap me.”

“Girl, if I wanted to kidnap you a few windows and an arm out the window wouldn't have stopped me.”

“Sir. Please.” You laughed.

“You should buy a taser. Those are more effective.”

“I’ll think about it.” You said while opening the door and climbing out.

“I could've gotten that for you.”

“After all you've done for me tonight?” You shook your head, “Thank you for the ride...” You didn't know this mans name.

“So this is dumb but, what’s your name?”

“Erik. What’s yours, bright eyes”

“Y/N.”

“Well go inside Y/N. You need rest.” He pointed at the clock in his car. It read 1:45 AM. Damn. You would've traded anything to keep talking to him. “Don’t make that face. I know you’ll miss me but, don't worry you'll see me soon enough.”

#erik x reader #erik stevens #black panther #erik killmonger #erik kilmonger x reader #college au

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kerwritesthings · 4 years

Text

The Start of Our Love Story

Summary: Before there was a me and you, there was me and there was you

Word Count: just a hair over 7k (buckle up y’all)

Warning: fluff and feels, a little bit of angsty longing, a little bit of messy, a bunch of sweet

Author Notes: So this is another one of those that festered from a tiny germ of an idea after something @fallinallincurls said and it kind of became, well this. It’s how it all started for these two. A look at their backstory. I kind of really love this. For me, I always want to make things I write feel real, that it’s not too much of the storybook, easy cliché. I want it to feel like this could actually be a thing that happens. This one feels more like that than anything I think I’ve written. I’m quite proud of it.

As always, this falls in my yet to be named verse. The rest of my works can be found here at my newly cleaned up and shareable masterlist. This honestly, if you’re just starting to read my pieces now, would be the first to read, then follow the rest as I’ve got them down on the master. However, it can be read as a solitary one shot. Much love to @whenidance for listening to me whine constantly at stupid o’clock that I’m writing more fic yet again and to @fallinallincurls for being the kickstart to this and for being the best damn cheerleader.

Toronto was never in your plans. Work wise, you were grinding away, working like crazy to make a name for yourself. That’s what mattered. Nothing else outside of work, your tiny apartment on the Upper West Side, brunches at Sarabeth and Jacobs Pickles and abusing Class Pass studios with your best friend Didi made it on your radar. But when the SVP of Charitable Corporate Giving came to you to chat about the expansion of their presence through the other international offices outside the US, more so growing and figuring out new ways to introduce corporations with their donations and their CSR programs with new charitable efforts; specifically an opportunity that would have you sitting possibly between New York and Toronto for a few months, eventually leading to full time position in Toronto, you sat up to listen. She immediately sets up time for you to head to Toronto along with a dossier of meetings with key folks there.

Didi came with you the first time you went up to Toronto for the exploratory conversations. The both of you came to love your time traipsing through Canada, Toronto and Montreal specifically. Plus, you both have friends scattered between the two. “This also means we can go harass the shit out of Hirashan, who we have not seen nearly enough of,” she trills off gleefully. “Plus, you know he throws killer parties, if we both visit you know he’ll do something fun.”

She was right. As soon as Hirashan found out you were coming into town, aside from the key smash that you may be in town for more than a brief trip if all works out well, a calendar invite for dinner shoots through immediately, then with a quick follow of ‘my friend Tristan is already having a few friends over for drinks that Friday night, we’re crashing’ which had you and Didi rethinking your packing knowing how Hirashan rolls.

After a day full of productive, thought provoking meetings that have you questioning everything back in New York, dinner with Hirashan, his boyfriend Miguel and Didi was exactly what you need to put the heavy thoughts in your head back a bit, at least for now.

“Tristian’s place is like Architecture Digest worthy,” Miguel raves, arm in arm with you as you head into the building. “The views of downtown and the CN are ridic. I’d say splurge if they want to drag you here and give you budget, but I’d much rather have you closer to us.”

“There is no way I’d be able to afford this building, let alone this neighborhood,” you quip, heels clicking on the tiles as you head up past the front desk to the elevators. Tristian’s ‘few friends over’ was tamer than you had expected, a solid number of people are scattering through the condo, but enough room to still feel like you could breathe.

Hirashan introduces you around like a proud parent, it’s sweet and not nearly as embarrassing as you thought he would be. There’s no way that you’ll remember everyone, your brain already feeling at max capacity after the day you had. However, luckily for you after the first full round of the room, you fall into an easy conversation with Tristian. He’s down to earth, a transplant from Georgia, and someone you could easily see becoming friends with if this move becomes an actual thing

“I have to introduce to my friend S,” Tristian says his thick southern twang bleeding through, craning his head around looking for him. “Normally, you can’t miss him he’s so dang tall. Whenever he gets here though, I must make the intro. I think y’all would get along well. He’s my neighbor, well not directly, but he lives in the building too.”

Didi and Miguel pull at you, passing around shots, and passing you around to meet and talk with other people. Your head is spinning, less from the whiskey you’ve been plied with through the night, more with the sheer fact that this night is making you see that Toronto may have to become a thing; and you’re smiling.

“Wait, here she is,” you hear Tristian first, before you feel him tug at your elbow before you go stumbling forward before tipping sideways. Another pair of hands come to steady you at your waist.

“Easy Tris, don’t break the girl before I can meet her,” the voice belonging to the hands at your sides retorts. He helps right you on your feet and you’re met with a pair of the prettiest eyes you’ve seen in awhile.

“As promised my dear,” Tristian grins, throwing his arms around the both of you. “This is Shawn.”

He looks oddly familiar, but you can’t place it or him. He’s quite stunning though, gorgeous really. And unlike some of the others around the apartment, he’s dressed for the occasion. A well put together man is a weakness for you. Let alone one with eyes like this, a swath of riotous dark curls and a bright smile.

You fall into talking easily, not even noticing when Tristian leaves. This Shawn of his is well spoken, funny and it feels like you’ve known him for much longer the way the two of you chat. You wander into the kitchen at some point to grab another round of drinks, a glass of white for you, a beer for him, continuing the conversation of why you were up in Toronto this week in the first place.

“Sorry man, I need to borrow this one for a few if you don’t mind?” Tristian calls from over the breakfast bar. “Couple more folks I need to introduce her to before they head out.”

“It was really lovely talking to you Shawn,” you say, smiling. “I’ll find you before I leave.”

A few minutes turns into an hour, Tristian and Hirashan passing you around through a new group of people that just arrived. Next thing you know, it’s almost 1:30 am and the boys are starting to fade. You’ve lost track of Tristian, as well as his friend Shawn. You were hoping to see them both before leaving.

“Can I steal you for a minute before you go?” Shawn inquires, as you’re grabbing your coat from Didi’s outstretched hand. Miguel just smiles, elbowing Hirashan and pushing Didi towards to the door.

“We’ll go down and wait for the Uber,” Miguel says, nudging you forward.

You slide into your coat as he walks you around the perimeter of the living room, out the French doors to the balcony.

“I didn’t want to ask in front of everyone, especially your friends,” he gets bashful, a light pink flushes his cheeks. “But I really liked talking with you tonight, getting to know you. Can we stay in touch? Even if Toronto isn’t in the cards for you, I’d still like for us to talk more. Become friends even.”

You nod, smiling softly. “Yeah, I’d like that. Here’s my card. Everything is on there. Cell, email.”

“I’ll text you in the morning, so you have mine,” he replies, squeezing your hand after sliding the card from it. “Let me walk you to the elevator.”

He loops your arm through his, guiding you back through the groups of people in the apartment, down the hallway and to wait for the elevator to pop back up.

“You don’t have to wait with me,” you say softly, hands in your pockets so you don’t do something like reach out to grab a hold of his.

“Yeah I do,” he smiles, and it seems like he shifts closer to you. You get a whiff of his cologne, and you hope in lingers in your nose for the rest of the evening.

The elevator doors slide open. “Thanks for the lovely night, Shawn.”

“We’ll talk soon,” he responses with a smile and a cute little wave before the doors close in front of you.

“Good night?” Didi asks flopping down onto the bed in your hotel room. “I saw that look on your face a few times, this is gonna be a thing now isn’t it? I should warm up the Star Alliance frequent flyer number soon, eh? Figure out the best flights from LaGuardia up here.”

“It’s feeling good, I want to really think on it though once all the big brass talk everything over,” you start, changing quickly, the day finally catching up to you. “And more so what they’re thinking with transition plans and comp package.”

“You do realize though you were all chatty flirting tonight with Shawn Mendes, right?” Didi fights through a yawn once they’re in bed. “Major thing to throw in the plus column for this. He looked all smitten kitten too, especially when he came over before we left. Get it girl.”

You’re suddenly not as sleepy as before. “What the fuck, no way Dee.”

“Mmhmm, why do you think the three of us let you guys be for as long as we did. Tristian mentioned him coming by. Thought right off the bat you two would get along after you and Tristian got to chatting. Tris was right and I’m glad he made that happen,” Didi mutters, face smushing against the pillow. “Plus, he’s so your type. One of us needs to tap that, and I think Tomas would be beyond pissed if I did, so it’s your mission now. And you must share all the details once you get dicked down by that hot piece of man candy.”

You throw the smaller decorative pillow on the bed over at her face. “I didn’t, I mean. We were just talking Dee. He looked familiar, but. Oh god, Didi,” you grab the other pillow and place it over your face to scream.

You try to put it out of your mind, especially with everything else going on around the Toronto whirlwind. Even more so when a few days go by and you don’t hear from him. He flat out asked for your number, you slid him your card which had your cell and your email address. He said he was going to text you, so you had his number, and he wanted to stay in touch. You thought he was being sincere. You try not to let it get you down. Thinking of it now after everything, he’s a massive pop star, what would he want to do with someone like you? He was probably just being polite. You’re about to pop into the meeting with the SVP of Charitable Corporate Giving, when a text pops up from a number you don’t have in your phone.

Hi it’s Tris! Found your card in my guest room, must have slipped out your bag at some point when you were here last week. Let me know when you make your decision. Welcome to crash here until you find a place if the decision is a YES!

The only card you gave out that night was to Shawn. Did he lose it? Did he leave it there? Too many questions, you had an important meeting to get to.

Your apartment is almost completely packed up, the movers coming in a few days to take everything. It was a no brainer to say yes, though it meant less time of a transition and more of an immediacy in Toronto. You decided to spend your last full Sunday in the city at some of your favorite places. Breakfast at BEC, a facial from Facehaus, a wander through Strand Book Shop and an afternoon at Té Company. You manage to snag your favorite table: a half-padded booth in the back corner next to the window. A pot of tea and a book that has nothing to do with work and you’re ready to take a deep breath or three.

“That young man asked me to bring you over a fresh pot of whatever you were having,” the server gestures, swapping the steaming pot in her hands with the cooling one you have on the table. “Shall I bring over another cup?”

You look up from your book, and from her, to see him. Your breath catches for a moment. He’s got a shy smile, looking straight at you. Beat up black boots, dark jeans, cozy grey sweater, a vintage black leather bomber. Curls a windswept mess and eyes bright. He looks like he belongs here, in your perfect Sunday afternoon in New York City. You don’t know how you feel about the fact you’re thinking that way, especially after everything. Damn your subconscious. You’re too polite to ignore him or flip him off, so you nod and wave him over.

“Of all the gin joints, Shawn…” you sigh out softly.

“This is so crazy, that you’re here. Hi. So, I owe you an apology,” he explains carefully, sitting down across from you despite wanting to slide onto the bench next to you. “Because the nervous asshole I am, I totally put your number in my phone wrong. I tried texting you a few times, and nothing. I figured when they weren’t going through as iMessage I got it wrong and then I realized I lost your card, so I had absolutely no way to check or get in touch. I also didn’t want to look desperate or completely pathetic tracking down your friends through Tristian to hound them for your number when I had already asked for it myself, especially the way I did, or stalk you on social that would have been worse.”

He’s adorable when he’s flustered. “Take a breath, Shawn,” you smile softly. “Tris has it. He texted me the following week that he found it in his guest room.”

“I went in there after I walked you out,” he runs his hand through his hair, messing his curls about even more than they are already. “Needed a minute cause the pretty girl I talked with all night actually wanted to keep in touch too. I sat on the bed and put your number, or what I thought was your number, in my phone. I thought I slid it back into my pocket, it must have jostled out.”

“I thought, well, honestly I didn’t know what to think,” you begin. “I didn’t realize you were, well you until after I was back at the hotel with Didi. I thought you looked familiar, but I just couldn’t place it. Then when you didn’t reach out, I was like what would this guy, this Rockstar, want to do with me?”

He shakes his head at first. Then, he slides his phone out of his coat pocket, flipping through a few things before sliding it across the table to you. “Go ‘head,” he nudges it closer to you.

There were four or five green text bubbles in the open message window, an 8 in the place where the 0 should be in your number.

I know I said I would wait until tomorrow, but I just wanted to say how nice it was to talk with you tonight. It’s Shawn btw :)

I know you’re probably crazed with just getting back but wanted to see how decisions were shaking out? I’m bias but I’d be happy to talk up Toronto some more.

Let me know when you’re back in town? Would be great to see you.

I may be in New York soon, would love to see you in your element. Can we grab a drink if you’re around?

Chat soon?

“He was kind of taken with you right away. Because that night? He got to just be just this guy Shawn talking to the prettiest girl in the room, who also happened to be so easy to talk to and laugh with,” he says honestly.

“It’s happening by the way,” you respond, pouring him a cup of tea despite your shaky hands. “Toronto. Next week. It’s my last full Sunday in New York, I’ve been hitting some of my favorite spots today as a last hurrah, including here. Movers come Tuesday; I fly out Thursday.”

“I found this place on my first solo trip to New York, and have been coming here ever since,” he sips at the mug that looks awfully small in his hands. “How many times do you think we crossed paths here and didn’t even know it?”

“We did on the time it really matters though didn’t we?” you smile over your mug.

You’re there for hours without even realizing it. Talking about whatever comes to mind. Everything from Toronto to New York to music to hockey, life and everything in between. After the second pot of tea, he moves to sit next to you on the banquette. By the third, he’s turning to face you straight on, head resting on his left hand with his knee pressing warmly into your thigh. Not once did anyone come to interrupt or bother the two of you, no wonder he’s gravitated to this place. By your fourth, you’re mirroring him, turning towards him. It’s comfortable, he’s comfortable. It’s easy, too easy actually. There are no awkward silences, no weird blips in conversation. It scares you. You’re already on the precipice of something majorly life-altering. You’re not sure you can take up another major change. And you believe him and his rambling explanation before. You do. But there’s a part of you that’s scared. Maybe you were just meant to have these pockets of time together, these brief beautiful moments. Nothing more. Your head is a swimming mess of emotions.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you two, but we’re getting ready to close,” the older gentleman you’ve come to know as one of the managers explains.

“Holy shit, it’s almost 8,” you stretch, popping your shoulders. “I didn’t realize it was that late.”

“What time did you get here?” he asks.

“Only 20 minutes before you did,” you say, timidly, resting your hand over his that’s resting on his knee. “But this was a really good way to spend my last Sunday in New York. Honestly.”

He flushes brightly, “I’m really glad I came in here today.”

“Now, may I please see your phone?” he questions, a sly little grin creeping up one corner of his mouth.

You nod, reaching for it out of your bag and unlocking it.

Shawn takes the most ridiculous selfie, you can’t help but fight giggling, then flipping back to poke at the screen before handing it back to you.

“You’ve got mine and I sent a text to make sure I’ve got your right number this time,” he expresses, his finger tracing over the knuckles on your hand. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate and it’s all going to be crazy for a good while for you, but I’d like to keep whatever this may be going.”

You duck your head, threading your hair behind your ear, nerves suddenly rearing their ugly head. Your stomach flips at his touch.

“I don’t want to lie to you Shawn, or lead you on,” you exhale, voice shaky. “This is all a lot. The new job, the move, this, you. I’m pretty fucking terrified as it is. But then add this in? Especially cause you’re you and… This isn’t a no, but it’s not a yes. It’s a not right now and I know that’s a lousy answer and the last thing I expect is for you to wait, because why would you. I’d like to text, when I can, at least for now.”

You know that answer wasn’t what he was expecting. Honestly, it wasn’t what you thought you would say to him either. You want but you also know you to listen to what your gut is telling you, despite your head and your heart fighting to have a say in this too. You’re afraid to look up, to meet his eyes, as you fear it could be the last time you see them up close and in person like this.

“Hey,” he replies softly, nudging your chin up with his pointer finger knuckle. “You’re turning your entire life and everything you’ve known upside down. I get it. It also means a hell of lot to me that you’re being honest. It also means you’re not placating me, which I’m appreciative of. It’s actually really refreshing and kind of a turn on. I’ll be here and I’d really like it if you still texted, call if you want even. I promise you I’ll answer, anytime ok?”

You nod, trying to fight back the fog shifting across your eyes, a small sniff breaking through though. “I’m going to just…” you say gesturing to the ladies room.

“I won’t leave,” he states.

You quickly splash water on your face, blow your nose, grateful you had your facial before, so you don’t have a mess of makeup to clean up. Taking a few more deep breaths, you head back out. He’s got your bag in hand, your coat over his arm. He’s making this whole not now thing hard to stick to, but you know truly know that if it’s meant to fall into place, despite everything, it will.

“What about the…” you start, looking around the table for the billfold the owner left.

“Taken care of,” he cuts in before you could finish, holding out your coat to help you into it. You itch to hold his hand as you head out and down the steps, but you don’t want to go back on everything you just said. Instead, you set to order an Uber. You peek over, and it seems that he’s doing the same, looking at you out of the corner of his eye as well.

The nip in the early spring air is out, now that the sun has set, and you snuggle further into your coat. He shifts closer, rubbing his hands lightly over your arms. You’re coming to realize how much touch is a part of his language.

“I won’t let you say goodbye, because it’s not that. I won’t let it be that,” he murmurs. “It’s a see you later, ok? And, I’d like, if you’re comfortable with it, to give you a good luck I’m here for you hug before you go.”

You nod, thankful it’s dark so he can’t see you blushing. He takes you in his arms easily and holds you close. He’s warm and solid, he smells like fresh laundry, boy and springtime wrapped together and it feels like you fit just so. He leans his head down to rest on top of yours, squeezing his arms around you tighter. “I mean it,” he whispers. “I’m here ok? However you need me to be, whenever you need.”

He keeps you in his hold until a car pulls up, and of course it’s yours that comes first; the driver calling your name through the open window.

You pull away slowly, reaching for his hands and squeezing them in yours. “We’ll talk, I can promise you that, Shawn. Just bear with me?”

He nods, squeezing your hands in return, “Travel save and go be awesome.”

Your resolve lasts a whole four days, texting him simply a photo through the plane window of the approach into Toronto.

She’s looking all pretty for your arrival – welcome to your new home! he texts back with a Canadian flag emoji and a red heart.

It’s not easy, you knew it wouldn’t be. Your new apartment is lovely but it’s still not feeling comfortable and like your home yet. You’re thankful that you have friends that have taken time to wait for the cable guy, accept furniture deliveries and your moving truck because you don’t have the time. Not with work. Work is hard, harder than it was in New York. They throw you right into the fire immediately. It’s new office politics, it’s a new role, new everything. Even the fact you don’t have your favorite Starbucks baristas nearby anymore to supply you with your afternoon pick me up the way you like it when things are crazy irks you. You look back through your texts, hovering over the chain you’ve got with Shawn. You haven’t texted him since that flight photo. You want to, but it would just add more to an already full plate.

Bringing you dinner and a surprise! LMK what you’re jonesing for comes through from Tristian late Friday afternoon after your second full week in the new office.

A gigantic bottle of white? you text back with the side eye tongue out emoji. He’ll think you’re kidding. You’re not.

I’m bringing a few bottles and Japanese. I’ll use the spare I need to drop back off. See you in a bit!

The surprise, you come to find, once you’re both on the couch with chopsticks in hand, is even a mystery to Tristian.

“I couldn’t say no,” he fights out around a mouthful of shrimp teriyaki, pointing at the package on your coffee table with his chopsticks. It’s carefully wrapped in butcher paper with a pretty silver ribbon. It’s a box, thin and flat, nothing too large with a white notecard underneath the ribbon. “I’m not going to butt in on what’s going on with y’all, but we had drinks after he got back from New York. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that besotted, but all he’d tell me was that he’s playing off your lead. He’s not pushed or anything. So, when he asked me to help get this to you, I had to. At least I didn’t give him your address, girly.”

“It’s complicated,” is all you can really give to Tristian to explain or encompass it. Because that’s exactly what it is. You slide everything off your lap to exchange it for the box. Carefully, you unwind the ribbon, it’s too pretty and something you’ll want to keep to use in another way. It’s two notecards under it, and they fall out into your lap. They’re handwritten in deep blue scrawl, to match the border of the card. You pull the shorter of the two notes out first.

I’m really hoping this isn’t too much or crossing any lines. I saw this and thought of you immediately. It’s just a little something as you’re conquering the world. – Shawn

The little something is a gorgeous journal, soft deep midnight blue leather covered in silver embossed vintage maps with a silver pen slipped in the loop.

“Damn,” you mumble, fingers tracing carefully over the leather for a moment before snagging the other notecard.

I know you’re probably still figuring everything out and exploring. I’m giving you a list of some of my favorite places in the city, so don’t go spilling my secrets ok? :) If you go to the link at the bottom, it’s a Google Maps planner so you can save it to your phone.

“This boy,” you sigh, leaning your head back on the couch. It’s sweet and thoughtful and just on the right side of tugging at your gut. Damn him.

“Tell me why y’all aren’t knockin’ boots yet?” Tristian quips, leaning over you to grab a Spider roll.

“Because I still don’t know my head from my ass up here yet and he’s Shawn fucking Mendes, Tris,” you take a large sip of your wine. “And I’m just some girl.”

“By the looks of it, you’re not just some girl. Just saying,” he says, nudging your shoulder.

Well after a few bottles of wine are polished off and Tristian on his way back home, you’re finally in bed. You’re still not used to the sounds of this city and you’re fidgeting, tossing your phone back and forth between your hands. It’s late, too late to call. So, you do something completely out of character, you record a voice memo to send to Shawn.

“I wanted to call, but it’s too late and I’ve had a little bit of wine that would make my resolve even weaker if we actually talked on the phone and I heard your voice. But your delivery boy came by this evening,” you speak quietly and carefully. “Thank you, Shawn. It’s perfect and so beautiful. I’m going to start using it on Monday. Then that list, with that Google link? That’s the absolute sweetest. I know I haven’t reached out and I’m sorry, really, I am. This is a lot harder than I thought. I miss home, this doesn’t feel like home yet. I know it will, but it’s not right now. Work is kicking my ass, and I’m grateful they trust me and for the challenge, but it’s so different than New York. It’ll all come together, but right now it’s just a fucking lot. I think though that this weekend, I’m going to try some of your list and I’ll try to share my adventures along the way. I promise you though Shawn, I am thinking of you and I want to get through this and feel like I’m good to talk more to you, with you. Thank you again, sweet dreams.”

You can’t bear to listen back, so you just save it and quickly shoot it off in a text to him with an old school t9 heart. You wait a solid 20 minutes before setting your phone on do not disturb, plugging it into charge and flipping over to try to get some sleep.

The next morning, your phone is scattered with different alerts: a missed FaceTime call and a handful of text messages, some with attachments, from Shawn. You press play on the memo first.

“So, please forgive me for trying to FaceTime, especially at like 1am, but you sounded so defeated in your message and it just killed me. Then I realized what time it really was and hoped you were already asleep, or your phone was off, and I didn’t wake you. I was in the studio head down working on something when you sent that, I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you right away especially after I told you to reach out at any time,” he rambles before taking a breath. “First off, you’re welcome. I spotted it and knew it belonged with you. Please do let me know what you think of these places, I’d offer to come with you especially since you’re having such a hard time, but I’m going to respect your wishes. Just know, if you do need company, I’m good for it. I’m sending you a couple things to read and to listen to, too. Things that have helped when I’m on the road and just feeling overwhelmed or scrambled. I hope they help some. I’m here, remember that ok?”

You send him a video of your mug of tea next to the journal on your coffee table, steam swirling from the mug with his latest album playing in the background.

Step one – making this journal about me and for me, not about work, with my favorite tea at the ready and I may or may not be listening to something special today to get me started.

You do something you haven’t in a long time, you write. You journal, and you let yourself feel and get everything out. Including about this darling boy who keeps making his way into the forefront of your mind.

I feel honored – need to know what your fav is, you know for reasons ;) I’m hoping it gives you a bit of a breather that you’re needing.

You spend the day concentrating on you, hitting two spots off his list: the tea shop and the record store, purchasing way more than you need at both. Once you make it back home, you feel lighter, more at ease. You spend time setting up the new record player, immediately sliding the first item you searched for onto the turntable and snapping a quick picture.

You sound better on vinyl btw – please don’t make me pick a favorite, I kind of love this whole entire album.

From there, you keep randomly texting, haphazard things, no rhyme or reason. Just talking and photos and whatever comes to mind, and it goes both ways for the both of you and you keep that up for a few weeks. It’s easy, it’s fun, neither of you putting pressure on the other for what’s next or what’s to come.

A touch over a month after you sent him the vinyl photo, he texts you a Dropbox link one afternoon.

A little something since you liked the album so much. Hope you enjoy.

That little something? It’s the whole album, acoustic, just him and his guitar stripped down. It’s soft and intimate and absolutely amazing.

Shawn, are you kidding? This is stunning. How come I haven’t heard any of these before?

It’s only late that night when you’re about to fall asleep that you think you hear your phone chime. You don’t pick up, waiting to look at the message the next morning. There as plain as day is his very simple response.

Because I worked on it for you.

You want to call to really talk to him, hear his voice, you want to see him, something, anything. But you can’t. You’ve got an important meeting at 9 am sharp that you cannot be late for, a jam-packed schedule the whole day and an event that night with one of the new clients, a charity benefit showcase at Horseshoe Tavern they asked you to go with them to. You don’t want this to be a brief tete-a-tete either with him. You quickly send off a string of every heart colored emoji there is because right now that’s what it feels like, your heart is exploding in its feelings.

The club is filled to the brim that night, your clients are overjoyed and your new boss keeps texting how she’s pleased the clients are happy. However, you’re frowning at your phone. Nothing from him, not a peep all day. You normally wouldn’t be concerned, but after yesterday, you’ve got a little bit of worry niggling at your stomach. You can try him after you’re out the doors of the club later, but for now, you need to put on a smile and make sure the rest of the night goes smoothly. The talent wrangler for the evening is dragging you backstage with your clients. A surprise guest is coming to perform and the CEO wants them to all meet before this person heads up to the stage for the last songs of the night, a thank you to your clients for their support of the charity. Backstage is a shit show to say the least, you’re jostled around trying to make your way back to the green room before being slammed by one of the sound guys and his massive rig bag.

“Watch it,” you call out, rubbing at your hip as you try to catch up to the rest of the group ahead of you.

“Damn, are you ok? It was a hell of a hip check if I ever saw one,” you hear from behind you.

You know that voice. “Shawn?” you ask, turning around to face the voice.

His eyes grow wide, his smile even wider.

“Oh, I see you’ve met our special guest,” the wrangler says, nudging Shawn forward. “Shawn, you can head back with this group if you don’t mind? I need to find a few other folks for this meet and greet.”

He agrees easily, shifting closer to you as you head back to the green room. “Fancy seeing you here. An unexpected surprise for sure. The best one really.”

You nod, biting your lip, the corners of your lips quirking up. “It is. Let’s get the business stuff out of the way first. Then maybe, after everything, and the show’s done tonight, we can talk?”

“I’d like that,” he snags your hands, squeezing them in his before he lets you go to you knock on the door.

The green room is small given the venue, but it’s a loud cacophony of sounds and people, and you’re both pulled in opposite directions immediately. You can’t help but catch sight of him here and there, he’s one of the tallest in the room so it’s not difficult. He looks good. His hair’s a little longer, curlier. You can’t help but smile, for a few reasons now, but at this moment you hear his laugh from across the room and it’s bright, infectious. It simmers in within you, but you can deal with that after the event’s over. The rest of the evening flies smoothly. You manage to sneak a drink from the bar in time to catch Shawn taking to the stage. You stay out of sight, tucked in the corner, wanting to observe him in his element. Him performing is nothing like you’ve seen before, especially in such a small venue. This could easily become something very addictive. Just as the show wraps, you shoot him a quick text.

Need to get my clients out the door then I’m free, maybe take me 10 more min. Somewhere around here good for a drink of some kind? Quiet?

His answer is quick, quicker than you expect, in two rapid texts.

Yes, Suite 114: https://www.suite114.ca/

It’s a 20 min walk from here, about 2km not bad - but I saw your heels so there’s none of that tonight. Uber over? I’ll meet you there as soon as I’m done with packing up and I have to say goodbye to the club owners. Promise I won’t be long.

Once you’re wrapped, an Uber comes quickly, surprising for a Friday night. It’s a quick hop over and the bar is cozy, dimly lit and decadent. A modern-day speakeasy vibe. He’s right though, it’s quiet, not overly full and there’s a couch you can claim towards the back of the room. You order something simple, a champagne cocktail with grapefruit and St. Germain, to sip on as you wait for him. Something light and celebratory. It was a good day all around.

“Am I allowed to say you look beautiful tonight?” you look up to hear him say, your cocktail and a rocks glass in hand with a few fingers of something dark in it.

“Only if I can wax poetic about seeing you perform live tonight,” you reply, fingertips brushing his hand as you slip the glass from his grasp. You may have done it purposely.

He blushes, settling down close to you with his arm stretching across the back of the couch. “I just might have switched songs at the last minute, after seeing you. Wasn’t supposed to do Lost tonight, but it just felt right.”

“Special in a room like that, like that small and intimate yeah? It felt that way at least, from watching it. You’re something else up there, Shawn,” you muse, twirling the flute carefully between your fingers, eyes catching his.

“Had a pretty girl I needed to impress tonight, so,” he drawls, looking down at the drink in his hands. “It was the best thing seeing you there tonight.”

“I wanted to call you this morning,” you begin, sliding your free hand to his forearm on the back of the couch. “But I didn’t want to rush the conversation. I had meetings, this tonight. I just. I had to send something, so I exploded all those hearts in that text. I needed to make sure I had the time I wanted, that, after your text with what you said, and that Dropbox. Shit, Shawn you’re making me all jumbled and to be perfectly honest? After seeing that text when I woke up? All I wanted to do was to hear your voice, talk, laugh, spend time with you, hug you tightly. I didn’t expect any of that. Whatsoever. It’s thrown me for a loop. A good loop, but still a loop.”

He places his glass on the table next to you, slides yours out of your hand to take a hold of it. “The last thing I want to do is scare you or overwhelm you. But. Is it okay if I say I feel the same? After Tris’ thing, then even more so after New York, I knew I needed to have you around, whatever way you’d let me. Your call and your speed. I was drawn to you in a way that I hadn’t been to anyone before, and I didn’t want to give that up. I was so glad to hear from you, after Tris got you that package. Your voice I mean. And then, the last couple weeks, not going to lie here. I’d look forward to your texts, those random little photos you’d share of those looks of how your life was settling in here. When you went to Sonic and it was my album you got and started listening to, it just hit me and I went into my studio at the condo to start laying those tracks down for you. That was, it meant a lot to me, so I wanted to just do something for you just as special.”

You lean your head on your hand, the one that’s still laying on him, now closer to his wrist and take a deep breath. “Honesty continuing? I’m scared. This whole being here is still such a rollercoaster, and then add in what this could be, especially… You’re you, Shawn. Shit, I don’t want to sound like that but it’s there. There’s a lot that goes with it, you get that right? I don’t think…”

“Take a breath,” he murmurs, slipping a piece of hair that’s fallen across your cheek behind your ear and trailing his finger down your cheek ever so lightly before tanging his fingers with yours. “I understand. I do. I’d like to, if you’re game, see where this goes. No pressure, nothing but the two of us. Only the two of us. Can I take you out on a proper date? I’d love to, please?”

This boy, this sweet, kindhearted adorable boy, this ridiculously famous pop star, really wants to take his time and spend it with you. This time, you listen to what both your head and your heart are telling you. Take the jump.

“I’d really like that, Shawn.”

TAG LIST: @whenidance, @parkerdavis, @sinplisticshawn, @hollandraul, @fallinallincurls, @itrocksmysocks, @rainbowshawn, @lasingphomustra, @illumecherry

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes story #shawn mendes fluff

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stonerbughead · 3 years

Text

Maria watches friday night lights (#35)

5x12 baby, helpppp how are we already at the penultimate episode (already, i say, after dragging this first-ever watch out basically as long as humanly possible L O L why am i like this)

my reactions / recap / flailing under the cut

I see that Tyra is literally the preview photo so I’m already like OH SHITTTT

Tami coming home from the airport with potentially life-altering news...and Eric is asleep in front of the TV on the couch, clearly trying to wait up for her, my heart.

AHHH Julie’s home??? A surprise? This is so fucking cute! The ending vibes are definitely here.

Omg Tim are you good, baby? Is he throwing his bed out of the trailer? Damn he clearly has so much trauma from prison.

Damn NBC 8 is pulling up, that’s how you know it’s State. “It’s State, Levi, get used to it.” “No, I’ll NEVER get used to it!” Lmao i love Levi.

WOW look at Luke trying to set up childcare so moms can participate in a hearing about school funding! GO OFF KING

Omg i almost forgot Mindy was pregnant again. Billy’s so excited...oh fuck, TWINS? They’re gonna be so broke forever. Mindy is as horrified as I would be lmao

Oh shit, here we go...Tami’s finally telling Eric about the job offer...and admitting she wants it!!! AHH

“We’d have to move to Philadelphia.” “We live in Texas. Honey, Texas...is where our friends and family are. Texas is where I work, Texas is where I have my job.” Weren’t y’all just thinking about moving to Florida like two episodes ago? I smell a double standard, sir!

Ugh Eric is shutting down. “I can’t talk about this right now.” BISH

“How many times have we moved before for your job?” MMHMM that’s right, Eric! You look shell-shocked but you need to take that in, sit with it!

Tim Riggins behind the bar is hot. Just an observation.

Ugh, the tension between poor Tim and Billy. Tim’s gonna go to Alaska?! WOW did not see that plan coming!

“What the hell are you gonna do, sleep with a bunch of woodchucks?” BILLY WHAT LMAO

“You’re gonna leave Texas?” “YES.” I love the drama in both these back to back conversations about the thought of Leaving Texas.

Broken dryer, Jess, I’ve been there. Like right now, we have a broken dryer in our apartment. Ooh, Vince coming and finding her and being gentle!

Aw poor Jess. “I finally found a coach who was open-minded enough to let me in and not laugh at me. He lets me shadow him and teach me how to be a coach, and now they’re gonna take it all away.” These poor kids.

VINCE: “We won’t let that happen.” MY HEART. I love them.

Wow, Luke’s being sold a low-tier football program, isn’t he? “We just got a Costco, and a brand new movie theater in the town.” yikes.

How is a reporter asking Eric “are you worried he’s taking on too much?” about a teenage boy. Like, how do they know this much about Vince’s life? Texas football culture will forever amaze me, even after watching almost the entire series.

“We haven’t even scratched the surface of what Vince Howard can do.” AWWW my heart! Eric is such a good coach.

Oh wow, the East Dillon Lions vs. Dillon Panthers funding debate!!! Did they send a Booster Club representative here to Buddy’s door to shake him down? “There’s gonna be a lot of changes.” Like what IS THIS?

“Vince Howard is gonna be a Panther.” This is... A Lot. “That chair at the head of the table is waiting on you.”

Oh nooooo Tim getting physical with a customer.

“I’ve been waiting five minutes for my drink.” FAMILIAR VOICE IN THE CORNER??? “Hey there, jailbird.” It’s Tyra, and she has long brown hair! I dig it! I dig this reunion!

Aw, Eric coming home and immediately apologizing to Tami for earlier.

Tami’s being realistic that if the Lions lose, their economic situation is in jeopardy—so a good job offer on the table is something to consider!

“So you’re routing against us?” OMG and there’s a moment when Tami thinks he’s referring to them but then realizes he’s referring to “oh, the team?” jfc “You and I, or us the Lions. Of course.”

“You know what, I’ve been a coach’s wife for 18 years. Every decision we’ve made has been based on your coaching career.” LIFE BEYOND FOOTBALL OH SHIT

Oh God Eric’s getting up with the keys???? Come on, dude! This is not cool! There are so many colleges and high schools in Pennsylvania! I promise they play football there!

Omg did Tyra just tell Tim about the twins since he refused to really talk to Billy?

Aw Tyra wrote to him in prison? That’s sweet.

Awww Mindy’s literally having a breakdown about not having enough space, and not being able to handle three kids. These poor babes. And the football team’s fate hinges on this because of the assistant coach’s salary...fucking crazy

Ooh now Buddy’s trying to hype Eric up on the Panther-Lions Superteam they’re gonna create.

Aw the whole fam at Billy and Mindy’s—Tyra, Becky, even Mama Collette.

“He’s got some stupid idea he’s gonna go to Alaska and work on a pipeline.” Well, when someone comes to prison and tells you they’ll actually let someone who has to check the felony box work a job with decent wages, yeah. God, the prison industrial complex sucks. Feeds the most vulnerable people into the shittiest jobs.

Julie outside of the Saracen home? Awww. Has she seen him since that romantic Chicago good-bye?

Luke, listen to Becky!! “I’d really appreciate if you put down the wrench and listen to me.” YES GURL

“That’s not real. You are! And I just think there’s been a lot of misunderstandings.” “Well, that’s really pretty you should put it in a love poem.” “Are you kidding me? Go to hell!” yeah, correct answer, Becky! These teens are under so much STRESS! The DRAMA!

Omg all these grown men screaming at the town hall meeting about football i cannot

Ewww these classist fucks. “Some of us on this side of town happen to own our houses.” Eat the rich.

Why the fuck is Billy writing a fucking speech while driving? And he’s surprised he swerved? Sir…

Aw poor Eric with pain in his eyes telling Billy he can’t be definitive about his job security...I mean, yeah.

Aw, Luke coming into the bar while Tim is working after...that talk with Becky…

“You and Becky...are you in love with her?” Tim looks so amused. “Are you serious?” “...Yeah. “No, I’m not in love with Becky. I care about her.” THANK YOU BOYS AND GIRLS CAN BE FRIENDS. Is this not what Becky tried to tell you last night? “I’ve been there a few times when nobody else was, but that’s about it.”

Aw Luke is so similar to Tim rn! Not “feeling it” from the school that wants him, even tho he loves football!

“You’re going to state, yeah? Nothing’s gonna beat that.” “Play it that way. Play it like it’s the last time you’re ever gonna lace up.” Some iconic Tim Riggins lines here!

“We were at the meeting last night, but we don’t want to argue or yell, we just want to give you our thoughts.” MY HEART i love Vince and Jess. “Well, that’ll be refreshing.” LOL after all these grown ass men were screaming over each other

“Was it really that bad?” “If you’re asking if I was raped in prison, Tyra, the answer’s no.” LOSING IT at this exchange lmao

“Tim Riggins, what the hell is going on with you?” that’s the question!

Oh shit is Tyra just finding out that Tim took the fall for Billy now...fuck

“He had a wife, a family. I had the chance to give him something, to give Stevie something we never had. To give him his father.” Damn, the look on Tyra’s face. She knows all too well why he did what he did even tho it fucked him up :( THE EMOTION. THE PAIN!

Damn they’re announcing the decision on the Dillon teams *before* state?

“What are you hoping for?” loaded question, Julie! “I hope that the Lions get to stay put, and I hope that I get to be Dean of Admissions at Braemore College.” awww yeah you do deserve it all, Tami.

Oh wow all these people from both teams standing in the street, drinking and talking and waiting for the decision with “i was living in a devil’s town” playing??? THIS SHOW.

I feel for the dude who has to address this town about this decision.

Anddd there it is, they eliminated the East Dillon program. The rich kids cheering for their victory in front of the poor kids mourning the end of the program they fought to make better is so fucking tacky.

And omg now they have to play state?

“Let me tell you something, you’re gonna be the star quarterback of the Dillon panthers next year, and you’re gonna shine.” OH this hug between Eric and Vince! “See you at practice tomorrow.” Again, the reminder that these people gotta play a *state championship*! wild

“We need to talk.” BUDDY WHAT?

Aw Julie and Tyra hanging out and there are Panthers screaming out of cars. “Welcome back to Dillon.” “No place like it.” Oh, this warms my heart.

I love this exchange: “You know, it’s kind of like this drug. When you get outside of it, you see it for what it really is. But when you’re in it, it seems like there’s no other possible reality.” “It’s a hard place to shake.” “Yeah...I didn’t see that one coming.”

“Whatever happened with you and Matty?” SAME, TYRA, SAME. “We’re good. I mean, we still talk every now and then. He went to Chicago. I went to visit him awhile back, and...I don’t really know what we are or aren’t or…” INTRIGUE. “I kind of just really miss him.” “Life’s harder when you really love someone.” Awwww. I loved that scene so much.

Wow, Buddy and Eric are talking at the Panthers field?

Oh, Buddy’s trying to sell him on winning the championship and then going to the Panthers to coach along with Vince….

“I can never come back to this school and coach. Never.” I mean, FAIR.

“Three rings in six years. That’s history. No one’s ever done that. You’ve got everything you want.” Yeah, Buddy, but does Tami get what she wants in that scenario?

Lol i love all the East Dillon Lions drunk on the field, like seasons’ past with teams past…

“Alright I’m taking a piece of grass home.” LOL TINK

To State and to Coach Taylor, huh? Sounds familiar. And Buddy Jr. is puking. Lmao.

“Just make sure you’re really okay with losing him.” YES Tyra! As much as Billy has majorly fucked up, i agree with her that the idea of the Riggins brothers losing each other when they ONLY had each other for so long...it makes my heart sad.

Oh shit are Tim and Tyra about to kiss? I almost forgot they were together back when this whole show started! “Please don’t go.” DAMNNN

Wow what a scene. Eric comes home with his news that he could have “everything” and Tami replies, “I’ll say to you what you haven’t had the grace to say to me: congratulations, Eric.

“I want you to take me someplace.” “Where?” “I’ll tell you when we’re on the way.” This is really cute! Also Tyra is so hot damn gurl i see you!

Aw Vince shooting his shot, yes! “What about you and me?” “I was really proud of how hard you tried. Thank you.”

“You already have two strikes against you.” “Jess, I was born with two strikes against me.” LOL SO TRUE. and aw what a hug!

Tyra took him to his land, didn’t she??? “Alaska, Tim?” He’s SMILING. Is that Texas Forever vibes i’m seeing here?

AH, Matt is home with a Christmas tree to see his grandma!!! She’s so excited!!

Aw she forgot his dad’s dead? “Did you say it was Christmas?” Oh this is so sad.

Why are Buddy and the Panthers coach standing at the Taylors’ front door like fucking cops late at night? This football program is sinister at times.

“Eighteen years.” Yeah, Tami. And then she turns it back on: “Can I get you two anything? Iced tea, water?” and FADE TO BLACK.

Damn!! What an amazing set-up for a series finale I’ve heard only good things about!!! AHHHH

#maria watches friday night lights #mine #friday night lights 5x12

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adarlingwrites · 3 years

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Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who’s willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

XXVI

January 12, 2278.

Good question.

Of all the operatives I was trained with, Vanth was the one who took to the program best. Our proctors will ask her to jump, and she’ll jump. If a contract holder asks her to beat a civilian up, she’ll do it without blinking. If a corrupt old pervert asks her to ride her fellow operative so he can get off, she’ll do it without remorse.

It didn’t happen just once, either.

Vanth’s just one of the many people I would’ve loved to put shotgun shells in, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget her cruelty.

Even before the first incident happened, Vanth had always been ruthless. Mag would scold me for calling her a bitch. She said that Vanth is just a product of her upbringing, made worse by the program. And yet, Mag isn’t capable of that kind of shit. Fuck, that’s the damn reason why she was designated as the medic. She’d rather keep us alive than shoot at anyone.

Vanth was different.

If there’s anything worse than Vanth’s complacency, it was her enthusiasm in inflicting all that hurt on other people. Her cruelty comes from the hatred those responsible for the indoctrination instilled in us: hatred for the insubordinate, hatred for the Reds, hatred for anyone who doesn’t bow to the will of the United States of America and its thirteen commonwealths, and hatred for anyone different. She took all that crap and fucking internalized it.

She hated the protestors for making a mockery of the government. She hated her fellow operatives for failing where she succeeded. She hated Mag. She hated me.

That snake-eyed blonde bitch enjoyed hurting us.

Sometimes, I imagine what life would have been like if I had been as complacent and obedient as Vanth was, if Magwayen didn’t plant ideas that contradict our conditioning in my head, and if Percy didn’t come 200 years later to help me break free from the contract.

I imagine what kind of man, if I can call myself that, I would be if I didn’t have remorse, or if I didn’t have my moral code that I kept to myself, until this woman crawled out of her hole in the ground and appealed to my better nature.

I decided that I do not like that version of me.

All this time, Percy was waiting for my answer patiently, her hands folded under her chin, while she lies on top of me. I can feel her warmth and softness of her body, then I remember Ahzrukhal’s threat to her. I remember the Talon Merc’s orders.

Something dark stirs my decrepit brain.

If they had given me the order, and I had been that man who has no remorse, I would have been like Vanth.

I would have been like Stevie.

A rapist.

Percy’s rapist.

Fucking hell. That’s just sick.

Gently, I push my partner off me and sit up. I turn away from her, ashamed of the thoughts I’ve had. Her words in the hotel room in Rivet City echoes back. The fact that these thoughts disturb me and I feel disgusted at the thought of forcing myself on anyone should reassure me.

I should feel reassured that I am not like Vanth.

But I still feel like shit.

Percy wouldn’t push me to answer if I didn’t want to, I know, but given the circumstances, with Eulogy Jones exposing my past, Percy learning about my fellow operatives, and now me blurting my rapist’s name in my sleep because of a nightmare… I’m willing to pick at the scabs and the leftover bandages off of the goddamn wound.

Maybe this time, it’ll have a chance to heal properly.

“Vanth to me is what Stevie was to you.”

My throat felt dry as I confessed that. Percy seemed stunned. She didn’t say a word or move an inch, probably waiting for me to continue talking, or just taken aback by my admission.

“May 5, 2077. It was my eighteenth birthday… and our contract holder then thought that a nice fuck from my teammate would be a great birthday gift. I couldn’t get any enjoyment out of it even if my body did. I didn’t want it. But I couldn’t say no.”

“I’m sorry,” Percy whispers.

“It was centuries ago. She’s just one of many.”

“That doesn’t make it any right.”

“I know. I was afraid I’d turn out like her.”

I can hear Percy gasp in realization. “So that explains your reaction in the hotel… and how you managed to resist the Talon Merc’s orders. I’m sorry Charon. Had I known where you were coming from when we had that talk, I shouldn’t have made it all about myself.”

“Don’t apologize. I wasn’t ready to talk about it then, anyway. If you didn’t talk to me about what happened to you that night, I wouldn’t be anywhere near confronting my own problems now.”

“Okay. You were also saying my name, while you were dreaming. Big guy, what did you dream of?”

I inhaled deeply.

“I dreamed that she killed you, just as she killed Mag on the day the bombs fell, and I was underneath her again. You… you get the picture.”

Silence.

Gingerly, her fingers pressed against my sides, and she leans over, the contact feeling like a request for permission and a comforting touch at the same time. I held her hands and wrapped her arms around my chest, or at least, what their length permits. Her soft cheek against the side of my neck, the muscles and veins underneath exposed, she whispered where my ear would’ve been.

“Do you want to continue talking, or should I just hold you?”

Heartbeat hammering, my hand wanders to hers, dwarfing it, and I give it a squeeze.

“Hold me.”

“Let’s get to bed so I can do that properly, then.”

She leads me by the hand up to our bedroom, where I lie on our bed, still facing the door out of habit. Percy presses the back of my head against her chest, and she rubs little circles on my shoulder. This won’t go away overnight, but at that moment, I felt safe.

“You’re an angel, you know that?” I tell her.

“Pfft. If you were someone else, I’d have pushed you off the bed for calling me that.”

Percy drapes her arm over me, and I fall asleep listening to her heartbeat.

I didn’t have any more nightmares.

When I woke up hours later, she wasn’t beside me anymore.

Percy’s voice was muffled as she spoke to someone downstairs. I threw on proper clothes, and went down the steps.

“Percy, next time, I’d appreciate a heads up when y’all are plotting something in this town.”

“Are we in trouble, sheriff?” Percy asks.

“Let’s discuss that when you get to the saloon. See you there.”

Lucas Simms was outside our doorstep, tipping his hat at her. Percy nods at him and closes the door.

“What did the sheriff say?”

“He needs to speak to us in the saloon. Something about the town’s security. This must be about what the slavers did to Doc Church while we were gone… Jesus what have I done?”

“Is the old man alive?”

“He is, thank God. But he’s not fine. Sheriff Simms said that it would be better if I see for myself.”

I nodded grimly. It must be bad.

“Let’s get ready. I need to pick up Dogmeat and get more winter clothes from Moira after that, too.”

Percy threw on a black shirt, then her Vault suit, followed by her jacket. She put on the cap she wore on the day I met her, grabbed her scarf on the way out, and I followed her out the house.

The tenseness came back to her shoulders. I squeezed her hand to reassure her, and she didn’t let it go.

The door to Gob’s Saloon swung open, and Dogmeat ran over to lick Percy’s face, Gob running after him. DeLoria was also there, with a few people from the Abolitionists, and Paladin Cross. Then, we were met by the townsfolk, whooping and cheering.

What the hell?

“I got you good!” Sheriff Simms exclaimed, clapping his hands. “Y'all really think we wouldn’t celebrate when a citizen of Megaton was responsible for bringing down Paradise Falls? The day you went through the gates, I knew I had a good feeling about you, girl!”

Percy’s standing stiff as a pole, eyes wide. “B-but Doc Church, and the slavers coming here and-”

“They can’t put me down that easily.” Doc Church’s voice. The old man comes into view, in crutches, one of his legs in bandages.

Percy gasps, her hands flying to her mouth. “God, Doc what have they done to your leg?”

“They mangled the hell out of my leg but the Sheriff managed to chase ‘em off before they could do anything else. Oh, don’t cry you big baby, I knew the risk when I decided to help you.”

The tenseness in Percy’s shoulders were replaced by shudders from her sobbing.

“I figured the town could use more vigilance ever since that Burke character turned up planning to blow us up. He might’ve ended up killing me if you weren’t a fast shot, too. Now, don’t you cry Percy, dear girl, you’ve done us some good again,” Simms reassures her, patting her back like a father comforting a child.

Nova comes over and pulls Percy to a corner, where she sits with Moira. Butch saunters over and before I can watch the awkwardness that followed, Simms walks over to me.

“And I suppose I owe you my thanks, too,” Simms said, extending his hand. “You’ve been a good friend to Percy. And any friend of hers is a friend of this town. Consider yourself a Megaton citizen too, Charon.”

I gave it a firm and quick shake. The sheriff didn’t recoil in disgust, and just tipped his hat afterwards.

“You kids have some fun. I can’t abandon my duties as sheriff, now.”

“Oh, c’mon Simms! Just one drink!” one of the patrons yell.

I can’t say that I feel overwhelmed by the crowd; I’ve been a bouncer in the Ninth Circle after all. I knew how rowdy people can get when they’re shitfaced. I’ve stopped brawls before. I’ve endured the obnoxious laughter and yelling.

But as I watched my partner surrounded by her friends and being celebrated by strangers from my corner, the gravity of our differences finally sank in.

Usually, when people see me, their first instinct is to stay clear, and regard me with fear or disgust. Sometimes both. When people see Percy, unless they’re raiders or slavers, they greet her, run to her for help, or check her out. Damn, I think that Bittercup kid from Big Town managed to do it all in that order.

Percy really is doing her best to do good. Half of the time, I don’t even know where she can find the motivation to stay that way in this shitsack of a world. Me? I’m just a broken old ghoul who had committed crimes that would send me straight to hell.

She told me that she’s just about to turn twenty the next month. Still so damn young to be shouldering this much responsibility, and yet here she was, organizing people to target slaver rings and doing her part in bringing clean water to the wasteland. On the other hand, I’m past two hundred, and I’m not sure how long I have before I become one of the mindless ferals.

My partner is burning bright, while my fire is slowly dying out.

The worst part is, I want her more than ever.

I shouldn’t be with her. She should be with pretty young smoothskins too.

Looks like I might have to turn her down, if she finally decides to stop waiting.

Percy has no future with me.

My train of thought was interrupted by Gob.

“Hey! Hey, everyone shut up for a moment. The news is on!”

He turned the radio’s volume up, and Three Dog’s voice flooded the room. Everyone went silent.

“News time, children!

Those scumbag Slavers way over in Paradise Falls had one big ole bee on their bonnet, and this baby knew how to sting. Gasp! But what's this? There’s not just one bee, but an entire goddamn colony, and their queen looked suspiciously like a certain kid, from a certain vault. You heard it here first, faithful listeners. The Wanderer showed up with a small army at slaver central and bad guys started dropping left and right. Reports say that among the people present are the Abolitionists Miss 101 herself assisted a few months back, a Brotherhood of Steel Paladin, and of course, her trusty Ghoul Reaper. And to top it all off, they gave us one hell of a pyrotechnics show when they fucking blew that place up to smithereens. Holy shit! Slavers of the Capital Wasteland, consider this the big ‘fuck you’ you've had coming since starting this scurrilous skin trade. What an amazing way to start the year!

What’s next? Is the Wasteland Avenger gonna give the Wasteland clean, fresh water too? Oh wait, she’s already working on that! Good job, kid! Just don’t burn yourself out, for chrissake. Keep fighting the Good Fight! The Wasteland is rootin’ for ya!

This is Galaxy News Radio and-”

“Hey! They didn’t mention me!” DeLoria cuts in, and laughter breaks out.

“If he starts calling me ‘Queen Bee’, I’m knocking his door down and stealing his headwrap. I’ve got enough embarrassing epithets already,” Percy sighs, downing a shot of scotch. Then, she turns, eyes searching, and her eyes land on me.

“Big guy! C’mon, sit next to me,” she calls out, and I obliged. Gob slides me a beer.

“It’s on the house. Consider it as thanks for getting back at those scumbag slavers for us.”

I nod and down half the bottle in a gulp.

Yeah, damn it all, I’ll celebrate, why the fuck not.

“Oh, it’s great that I finally caught you two here in Megaton!” Moira exclaims, striding towards us with a box in her hands. Goddamn. And I thought I was going to have a good night. This is the weirdo that made Percy drink atom bomb water.

“Now, I know you probably experienced it before,” she said, motioning to me after setting the box on the table. “But this is Percy’s first winter out here in the Wasteland! Here, as a show of my appreciation for getting rid of those mean slavers, I got you two some warm clothes!”

“Wow, it’s like you read my mind! Thank you so much for these, Moira.”

“No problem! Maybe we could work on a winter survival guide next?”

Panicked, I shake my head and Percy laughs.

“I think I’m going to take a break from experiments for now, Moira.”

“Oh? What’re you up to?”

“We’re gonna bring clean water to the Wasteland.”

#cw uncomfortable themes #tw: recollection of past non-con #lone wanderer #female lone wanderer #charon #fallout charon #charon fallout #fallout 3 charon #charon fallout 3 #oc: percy zhou #butch deloria #lucas simms #fanfic: absolution #series: through river acheron #fallout 3 #fallout #fallout fanfic #writers on tumblr

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redstarwriting · 5 years

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Dimension Hopper

Avengers x Reader

Request: “Hi!! I was wondering if I could request an imagine about a reader from our universe going to the marvel universe?? And she's super smart and strong but like, a little younger than Peter (15). I'm still not over Endgame so can she be confused when everything is normal and the Tony thing didn't happen, and the avengers are confused about why she is so happy about tony, idk just FLUFF PLEASE😊💖“

Word Count: 1,858

Genre: Fluff, Platonic

Warnings: Endgame spoilers, swearing, run on sentences

A/N: Not gonna lie, I got carried away on this one. I might make a part two to it to show just how close the reader gets with the rest of the Avengers in this specific story, and to show that she’s a strong ass girl as well. I already have ideas for it, and I really enjoyed writing this one. I hope y’all enjoy it as well! I’m working on all the other requests I have right now, so if you sent one in I’ll get to it as soon as I can!

───────────────────────────────────

Saying you felt like your heart was ripped out of your chest was an understatement. You’d just seen Endgame, and while you loved it and honestly had an out of body experience during it, Tony died. No more Iron Man in the MCU. Needless to say, you cried your eyes out. Even though he was a fictional character, he was your role model. You, like him, were very interested in engineering and science and things like that. In fact, you understood a lot of what Tony could do, and you’re only fourteen years old. You keep the fact that you can understand all the complicated engineering things that Tony talks about a secret, of course, considering the technology to actually pull off what he can do doesn’t actually exist in this world. You were working on that though. When you weren’t doing your schoolwork or reading comics or watching Marvel movies, you were out in your garage, working to become this world’s Tony Stark.

Needless to say, as soon as your parents park, you hurry to start working on your projects. You’ve already seen Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, and the entire concept of it interested you. Different dimensions, the multiverse, it all was something that seemed to be calling out to you. So, needless to say, you were trying to find a way to travel to other dimensions, only safely. You don’t want to find out what that glitchy thing that happens in Spider-Verse actually feels like. You’re just grateful that your dad happens to own a weapons company, much like another super genius in the universe that you would like to travel to. That’s what allows you to develop and invent all the time. It’s quite convenient, actually. Nevertheless, you’re lost in your work, distracting yourself from your sadness about Tony Stark, and you don’t even realize how much time has passed. It’s a Saturday, and you saw the movie at a one o’clock showing, so you got out of it at around four o’clock, meaning you started working at around five since you went and ate dinner with your parents. Now, it is four in the morning. And you are tired. It’s not the first time you pass out at your crafting table, and it certainly won’t be the last.

Now, you’ve gotten pretty far on the designing and creating of the fancy touch technology that Tony uses in the movies, and you’ve been using it more and more. Laptops and touch screen phones are a thing of the past for you, but you haven’t shared anything you’ve discovered with the world yet. Why, you ask? You’re fourteen. Chances are no one would believe you and they’d probably just say your dad was the one who actually did it, and you’re not about to let the things you designed get credited to someone else, even if he helped create you. With the technology you’ve created though, you can do things that are way beyond thought of on this Earth. And that leads back to the task you have at hand. Dimension hopping. Although you’ve fallen asleep, diagnostics for the machine that will be used to help dimension hop are being run through over and over again. You finished the basics of it, now you just need to find the exact way it will actually work. Lucky for you, a successful way is found. You’re just sleeping when it is. Crazily enough, the program downloaded itself into your watch, and you must have moved around and hit something in your sleep, because you hopped a dimension. The only downside? You were asleep when it happened. So, imagine your shock when you wake up, and everything around you is abandoned. Your machinery and equipment are nowhere to be found. You glance down at your wrist, pulling up information on what the hell is going on from your watch that you designed. “April 28, 2019… but what happened to my lab…?” you mutter, confusion and utter devastation flooding your mind. You think for a second and realize something. What if you’re in a different dimension? You frantically begin typing, trying to figure out what’s happening. Before you can even begin to look at the search results, though, the ceiling behind you gets blasted through. You turn, seeing none other than Iron Man, Tony Stark himself, looking at you. “A kid? You’re the one who caused a surge of energy?” you hear him say, and you just stare at him. “Y-You’re-“

“Rogers, it’s just a kid. She’s not about to harm anyone. She’s not even armed with anything and she literally just woke up… no, believe me Barton, I know what falling asleep while inventing looks like. She’s got it written all over her face. And hair. Yeah, of course you can come in, I already told you she’s harmless.”

Tony steps out of his Iron Suit, looking directly at you, and you literally just stare at him with your mouth wide open. “What’s your name kid?”

“You’re real?! And alive!” you blurt out and Tony just stares at you. “Wha-” You cut Tony off by crushing him in a hug. “Woah! Okay, okay, hey,” he decides to let it happen, but he is pretty confused. Before the embrace is over, Steve Rogers, accompanied by Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanoff, and Clint Barton all walk through the door. Through the gigantic hole Tony had previously made in the ceiling flies Thor. You immediately pull back from Tony, and nearly start crying. “Nat’s alive too! Oh my god this is amazing!” You start freaking out, and now they’re all looking at you with a weird expression. “Okay, what’s going on?” Steve asks, approaching you. “You’re not old!”

“No, he’s old, he just looks young,” Tony says, and Steve gives him a look. You laugh, shaking your head. “No I know he’s like 101 years old, but he still looks like 25! He isn’t an old man on the outside!”

“What the hell is going on here, Stark?” Clint asks. “Yes, I am also wondering who this child is and why she is stating that we are all alive when it is obvious that we are all alive,” Thor says. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Tony tells him. “Okay, yeah I can imagine how this is weird but oh my god you guys don’t understand. I watched you guys die and now you’re here and I’m here and you’re all okay and you’re all together again and I’m just so happy you guys are amazing, Tony you’re my literal idol I want to be just like you and I’m so excited I finally get to meet you and I know I’m repeating myself and if this was typed out it would be a huge run on sentence and-”

“Wait, slow down, you watched us die?” Tony interrupts you, concern written all over his face. “Yes! And to be completely honest I have no idea how all of you are alive and I’m totally confused about it... does Thanos exist? Are you guys searching for the infinity stones? ‘Cause if not, you should totally do that before Thanos-”

“How do you know about the stones? And Thanos- who are you?” Tony asks, in obvious disbelief. “Oh, yeah! I forgot that part, my name is (Y/N), I’m fourteen years old, and I already told you I love you, but I love you. Like a lot. Like you inspired me to become an engineer... but seriously, how are you guys alive?”

“Well, we did fight Thanos in Wakanda, but he never got the chance to snap his fingers. Thor cut his head clean off with Stormbreaker and Doctor Strange used the time stone to bring Vision back and Cap and I decided to set aside our differences and start working together again. After a risk that big, it would be better for all of us to work together than be separated but that’s enough about that, you’re fourteen and you’re already an engineer?”

“Oh my god, that’s crazy! Everything I though I knew was a lie what the heck, this is insane! And you’re back together?! This is so great. I’m so happy I designed this watch so I could jump from my dimension to this dimension-”

“Your dimension to this dimension?”

“Yes, my dimension to your dimension.”

“You’re from a different dimension?”

“Yeah! Isn’t that cool! And so far, no glitches and my organs feel fine so I’d like to say this was a success, the only problem is I don’t entirely know how I got here,” you think out-loud, pulling up the hologram like technology that exists in this world already from your watch, beginning to type some things out. “So you invented that watch?” Tony asks, walking over to you to see what you were typing. “Uh-huh… it only took around two and a half months to design the watch itself and integrate the dimensional navigation software, but the technology used in it took me about six months to develop.” You can feel Tony’s eyes on you, but you just keep typing away. “How long did you say you were going to stay here?” you hear Bruce ask, and you shrug. “I didn’t say, but to be honest it looks like I’m stuck here because fun fact, this was somehow activated while I was asleep. I have no idea how to get back to my dimension, so…” you look at Tony, “Do you have a place I could stay until I figure it out?”

“Uh, yeah I do. I kind of want to talk to you about some things. I’ve noticed you don’t have an A.I. I could help you out with that, you’d be amazed at how much simpler it makes things,” Tony says, and your eyes widen. “Really?! I can have my own JARVIS?!”

“Hell yeah you can. Now with this watch, do you think that-“

“I hate to interrupt your science party, but are we just ignoring how she knows so much about us?” Natasha asks. “Oh! The dimension I’m from is hero-less. You guys exist in movies, I’ve seen every major battle you guys have had. Including one that won’t even happen because your timeline is different from the timeline that was created in my dimension,” you explain, not diverting your attention from your watch. “I have them all if you’d want to watch them. The actors look just like you guys, it’s pretty dope,” you inform and they all stare at you in disbelief. “You know, (Y/N), I think we’re gonna be good friends,” Tony tells you, and you smile. If you thought it was crazy that you discovered dimensional traveling, it’s even crazier that you just met not only your idol, but your future best friend. With the things he taught you, you went back to your dimension and released all of your tech, advancing the boring old Earth you knew. You constantly travelled between your dimension and the Avengers’ dimension, and because of Tony you always had a place to stay. You also may have brought Peter Parker to prom. Crazy how that works.

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unculturedmamoswine · 4 years

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AoS McKirk Recs

At the request of @fireinmywoods I’m finally getting around to making a McKirk rec post, which I’ve been wanting to do for a while. All these fics are McKirk endgame. This isn’t organized in any way whatsoever, and is also not a comprehensive list. I mostly just scrolled through my bookmarks and picked the things that weren’t outright porn. I always wish reccers would include their own notes along with the author’s summaries so... I did that. Hope y’all don’t mind. I’ll try not to be too spoilery, but I think it’s valuable to see what other fans like about a fic. Also, always heed the author’s notes, warnings, and tags. Definitely check out other fics by these authors, because I’m mostly not reccing a bunch by each person in order to keep this post slightly less long. And please consider leaving comments on the fics!

The palimpsest verse by fireinmywoods (series is 100k words)

Author’s summary (of the first fic in the series): “Skip to the point, Jim. The sooner you spit it out, the sooner I can refuse and get back to work.” “It’s really no big deal,” Jim says as the door slides closed behind them. “I just need you to come down to Hearth with us…as my husband.” The Enterprise has been sent to negotiate reaccession to the Federation with an isolationist religious group known as the Kindred. While there, Jim notices that some of the children seem to be gravely ill. The problem is, the Kindred practice faith healing and refuse to allow a doctor to be brought in. So Jim does what he does best: he improvises.

Gotta start with the gal whose fault this list is! When I read the first fic in this verse I was really at a low point in my McKirk obsession. This fic really brought me back into the fold in a big way. The whole series is just very very full of love. I ALMOST read one of the sequels first but thank god I heeded Em’s warnings to read palimpsest before reading the other fics. Seriously. You need to go into the thing unspoiled. Anyhow, if you want Jim and Bones way way super in love, for sure read this fic.(And listen, if you don’t want to read it because you hate fake marriage please read it anyway. I dislike fake marriage and I read it and loved it. Give it a shot, I beg you.)

Manhattan (Weeks Gone By) by blcwriter (8k words)

Author’s Summary: For the jim_and_bones St. Patrick’s Day challenge, because only I can turn a flash fic prompt into 8000 words. I haven't been able to stop listening to Frightened Rabbit’s “In Living Colour” from their Winter of Mixed Drinks album as I was trying to figure out what I wanted to say for my next story, and then this challenge came along, and literal writer! is literal, so, there you go.The prompt was "Manhattan," and the boys wanted to be married in modern times and run a bar in the Village with the whole gang involved. Non-happy-fun-times ensue before things sort of resolve.

I love a lot of blcwriter’s stuff, but this one is my favorite. It’s a modern day au, and Jim and Bones’s marriage is in trouble. It’s a really wonderful look at people in a long-term relationship struggling to keep it alive and wondering whether to just let it die.

Something so right by blcwriter (series is 13k words)

Author’s Summary (of the first fic in the series): "Don't say we aren't right for each other, the way I see it is.. we aren't right for anyone else."

Okay, I said I wouldn’t rec lots of things by one author and this is my one exception. I HAD to rec this one as well as Manhattan. An utterly fantastic modern day chef au. Jim and Bones knew each other at culinary school but now find each other again as real grown-ups. And the sequel is a Christmas fic! Also contains Jewish Jim, which I’m always a slut for.

That Monogamy Thing by silverlining99 (11k words)

Author’s Summary: Jim thought he was doing it RIGHT.

I also need to mention the fic The Thing About Realizing You Are In Love With Your Best Friend by JenTheSweetie because these two fics are so identical in premise I can only assume they were written for the same prompt. They’re both great, but I slightly prefer That Monogamy Thing, so it got top billing. Both fics are set during the five year mission, or at least they’re set on the Enterprise. Basically, Jim and Bones start sleeping together and Jim assumes they must be now in a Monogamous Relationship(TM) and gets with the monogamy program. Of course, at no point did anyone say they were in a monogamous relationship, so Bones is not on the same page, shall we say. It’s a classic “miscommunication causes delicious but short-lived angst” kinda vibe. You get it.

The Repairs verse by shinychimera and Yeomanrand (series is 69k words)

Authors’ Summary (of the first fic in the series): Young Jim Kirk is unstable and self-destructive, Leonard McCoy is withdrawn and wary, and the obstacles to surviving their first term at Starfleet Academy are not easy to overcome. A dark and brutal tale of the tangled borders between healing and hurting, where hard choices between emotions and ethics have far-reaching consequences; dealing with abuse and alcoholism, affection and neglect, piercings and bar fights, hot and cold sex, complicated questions of consent, and loyalty and love between people who aren't comfortable with either. A whole new spin on "I want my pain, I need my pain."

This one is kinda...whump porn. Like, read the tags. JIm is suuuper messed up and traumatized but sometimes that’s what you need in a fic, yanno? It’s an Academy fic that deals heavily with Jim having been violently abused as a child, and him growing to trust Bones while also kind of learning how to be an adult, rather than living life as the abused child he’s spent so long being. The abuse in this fic was not sexual in nature, jsyk.

En Promenade by newsbypostcard (series is 86k words)

Author’s Summary: After three months of weekend bar-hopping and a slow process of elimination -- with finding the right bar, that was, and tragically not discovering who Bones was into -- Jim was starting to narrow it down.

A very cute Academy fic that nevertheless deals with a bit of heavy shit for both Jim and Bones. Starts out with Jim bound and determined to befriend Bones by... discovering the perfect bar for them to hang out in. Has a lot of really great exploration of Bones’s character, and he’s written in a really entertaining way.

Future Imperfect by Savoytruffle (50k words)

Author’s Summary: Leonard wins the kid in a hand of poker. A hand of poker he plays in the dirty back room of a dive bar in East Bumfuck, Iowa, two weeks after his humiliating divorce is finalized, and on the sixth day of a bourbon-fueled bender that’s somehow taken him from his high-rise loft in Atlanta to a fleabag motel in the middle of nowhere.

This fic is an Academy fic, but in a pretty dark universe. Maybe not Mirror Universe dark, but it’s one where slavery is practiced on Earth. Jim is, in this fic, Bones’s slave. Not in a sexy way. He’s part of an underclass of people who weren’t designer babies. Bones goes to the Academy and tries to become a Starfleet officer, accompanied by Jim, his newly acquired slave. They grow closer as they deal with their pasts, and I guess I should stop there for fear of spoiling too much. This one talks a lot about childhood sexual abuse, so be warned. The story overall though has a hopeful ending.

Let Me Come Home by yawnralphio (7k words)

Author’s Summary: “Someone asked me what home was and all I could think of were the stars on the tip of your tongue, the flowers sprouting from your mouth, the roots entwined in the gaps between your fingers, the ocean echoing inside of your ribcage.”

For someone who theoretically dislikes modern day AU’s, there are actually a fair few that I really really love, and this is one. Jim and Bones run a travel blog together and journey around the US in a van. It’s a really lovely mix of angst and romance.

The Switch series by Ceres_Libera (series is 269k words)

Author’s Summary (of the first fic in the series): The life and times of Leonard H. McCoy MD/PhD … If Leonard McCoy's life could get any fucking weirder, it would be … Jesus, he didn't even want to think what that could possibly mean, because it's already been too fucking weird to make any kind of rational sense. A Starfleet Academy story, set in the ST:XI universe.

I don’t need any sass, people. I KNOW you’ve all read Switch, and I know you’re all tired of seeing it on rec lists and I don’t care. It’s famous for a reason! It’s not just long, it’s WONDERFUL. The big, epic Academy fic that kinda sets the Academy fic bar. Goes from Jim and Bones meeting all the way through the end of the 09 film. And that’s just the main fic. I really love that both Jim and Bones are depicted as realistically flawed people, especially earlier on in their acquaintance. Neither of them are angst sponges, they’re both just... kinda messed up dudes. But they’re good people who learn to love each other. Also I guess it’s technically slow burn?

The Greater Good by emiliglia (29k words)

Author’s Summary: Doctor Leonard McCoy thinks he's getting by, working as both a surgeon and a researcher at UCSF Medical Center. A chance encounter with Lieutenant Jim Kirk - who's changed since they first met five years before, and not for the better - forces Leonard to face reality about his own situation while trying to keep Jim from heading down the same path.

This is the only fic on here not on Ao3, as far as I can tell. Anyhow it’s modern day AU. Jim and Bones help themselves by helping each other and falling in looooove.

The aftershocks series by canistakahari (series is 30k words)

Author’s Summary: Jim Kirk turns down Pike’s challenge, and doesn’t get on the Starfleet recruiting shuttle. But neither does Leonard McCoy, who’s actually been in Iowa for six months already, doing fuck-all. Becoming drinking buddies seems like a natural progression.Sometimes the path to the stars is just a piece-of-shit dirt road. You know, the kind that’s filled with potholes and surrounded by brambles and conveniently happens to be located in the bottom of a ravine. But every once in a while, when confronted with such a twisted mess of circumstance and cracked foundation, the universe still does its very best to fill in the holes.

I haven’t read this in a long time, but I remember it being really good and kinda mindfucky. Not in a dark or stressful way, though. Jim and Bones don’t join Starfleet at all. I feel I shouldn’t say more because I don’t want to spoil things, but the tags should give you more information if you want some.

i think i’ll keep you (like a secret) by hoosierbitch (3k words)

Author’s Summary: Bones came to Starfleet with a hell of a lot of baggage. Jim came empty handed.

Some good ole Jim angst. Prominently featuring: Tarsus things! Allergic-to-everything Jim! Jim allowing himself to be vulnerable around Bones! All that good stuff. I just love me some vulnerability.

How Whales (Sorta) Brought Jim and Bones Together by highschool-facelesshellion (4k words)

Author’s Summary: For Leonard, first dates are flowers and small, homey restaurants where you talk quietly like you're sharing secrets with your potential girlfriend.They are not supposed to be at a table covered with aquarium maps and aquarium souvenirs. And they are certainly not supposed to be spent with a blond-haired, blue-eyed boy rambling about whales.(Or: Where Leonard is the only person that doesn't think Jim's too crazy for his whale obsession and Jim notices.)

Fairly goofy, slightly cracky remix of The Voyage Home (the one with the whales). It’s just silly and charming and I don’t know why I love the idea of Jim being a whale aficionado, but I really do.

Any Road Will Take You There by shoreleave (63k words)

Author’s Summary: Slow-developing K/M, beginning right after the shuttle ride and showing what happens the first year at the Academy. Told from McCoy's POV.

This fic is verrrrry good. I know I have a lot of Academy fic on here, but please treat yourself and read this one. Shoreleave is really good at both plot and characterization. I really like this fic in part because it explores the root of Jim’s complete lack of trust in authority figures, while also showing just how dangerous that lack of trust can be for him.

Seeing Stars by lindmere (1k words)

Author’s Summary: Inspired by Chris Pine's wig in Bottle Shock. Jim sneaks into Riverside for an old-fashioned Fourth of July.

A very sweet, sort of domestic established relationship fic.

His Eyes are Opened by tresa_cho (21k words)

Author’s Summary: Lt Colonel Leonard McCoy thought his service days were over. After the Great War, he was ready to disappear into the sanctuary of anonymity, but the government had other plans. Strange men whisk him away from his comfortable existence to investigate an airship crash unlike anything the United States had ever seen before. The year is 1947. The location, Roswell, New Mexico.

Despite the summary saying ‘Great War’, this fic is clearly post WWII, so I think that must be a typo. There is a dearth of McKirk fic set in the forties, and hot damn does this fic ever hit the spot if that’s what you’re looking for. Usually fics that are set in modern times or earlier take out all the sci-fi elements of Star Trek, but not this one! Just a very well done fic with a unique premise.

Investigations by AceOfSpades (series is 93k words)

Author’s Summary: The first thing Jim noticed about McCoy, and what started him on this whole messy path, was that McCoy was just a little…off.

GOD DAMN I love this fic. It’s a Doom (2005) fusion, but you don’t need to know anything about Doom to get this fic. It might even help to not know anything about Doom. God knows I don’t and I adore this fic. Academy era, with Jim simultaneously befriending Bones and trying to solve the mystery of this weird Leonard McCoy guy. Theoretically we’re getting a sequel sometime, and it can’t come soon enough in my opinion. Never fear, though, the fic is complete as-is and has lovely closure. Really really really recommended!

The Galactic Adventures of Major Zeph by winterover (14k words)

Author’s Summary: Jim is a comic book nerd who’s finally found his one true sidekick. Leonard is a convention virgin who really needs a drink. There is only one bed left in San Diego.

Academy fic! For some reason I always love fics where Jim is into some kind of craft or art, or is just generally a nerd about something. This fic provides that twice: Jim is a comic book nerd as the summary says, but also really into cosplay. And Bones just happens to look like the sidekick of Jim’s favorite comic book character. Romantic hijinks ensue.

The Man Who Held Up Atlas by thalialunacy (7k words)

Author’s Summary: Five times Leonard McCoy fixed Jim Kirk’s back, and the one time he didn’t have to.

Really really lovely 5 plus 1 fic with reverse chronology. Starts with Jim and Bones as old old men and moves back in time from there, showing little snapshots of their relationship.

and i can lend you broken parts that might fit (like this) by jeyhawk (17k words)

Author’s Summary: Academy Era. First they fall into bed. Then they fall in love.

Funny and sweet. Nothing too heavy, just loads of Jim and Bones being wildly in love with each other. And sexytimes.

#mckirk #fic rec #star trek #aos #my post

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anothers-trash-my-treasure · 5 years

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Bittersweet - Chapter Five.

Ho-ho-holy shit y’all. It’s here. I’ve done it. I really hope it doesn’t take me this long to get out the next one, sorry it was such a wait but as I’ve said before I hate forcing myself to write. I only want to produce quality content for you guys. As always, feedback is appreciated

Pairing: Merriell Shelton / Reader (femme)

Warnings: uuhhh swearing, angst, mentions of sexual activity

Word Count: 2080 *it’s kind of short sorry*

Tag List: @elliotmercury @r-ahh-mi @the-almond-dinger @ahkmenrami1205 @itsme690 @xoa-lex @kpopperotp12 @malek-lover

Let me know if you want to be tagged or if I forgot to tag anyone I’m sorry, I have a bad memory, just remind me and I’ll actually write it down lol.

The rest of the week goes by way too quickly.

Anytime Merriell isn’t working, he’s showing Chloe and I around New Orleans, sometimes inviting Eugene along with us, sometimes not. We’ll do sightseeing activities during the day and hit up the local bars at night. I learn quickly that Eugene acts as Merriell’s voice of reason, quickly talking him out of bad ideas or compromising situations. Compromising situations that seem to happen if he’s not there. Compromising situations such as pulling me into a bathroom stall and making good on all the filthy promises he whispers in my ear during the night.

That being said, I can’t help but notice that every time Eugene and Mer are alone, they seem to dip into what looks to be a very heated discussion. I watched as Eugene seemingly lecture Merriell on something, his eyes locked firmly and sternly on the man I have come to care so much for over the past two weeks. However, anytime I began to walk back to the table Merriell would dismiss the conversation with a wave of his hand and a shrug in favour of shooting me a signature smile.

Along the same lines, every time Chloe and I were away from the boys, she’d rope me into the same conversation.

“So,” She starts, “did you talk to him yet?”

I sigh, sliding the bartender my money for the drink and bringing it up for a drink, “No I haven’t.”

“Y/n,” she says sternly and I know she has a whole speech prepared, so I cut her off before she can start.

“I’m going to, Chloe. But it’s not really something I can bring up around you or Eugene.

“So do it alone.” She says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

I shrug, taking a sip of my drink before smirking devilishly, “Kind of hard to bring up other topics when I’m busy screaming his name.”

I laugh maniacally as she almost spits out her drink and attempts to glare at me, although I can tell she’s holding back a laugh.

“I’m serious,” She says after I’ve calmed down, “You need to talk to him about what’s going to happen when we leave.”

“I know,” I say honestly my eyes easily finding Merriell in the crowded bar. His head turns and he meets my gaze, quirks a smile and turns back to his conversation, “and I will, I’m just waiting for the right time.”

Eventually, I run out of time. The last night spent in New Orleans comes quickly and is quite tame. Chloe and I had decided that being hungover on a lord only knows how long flight tomorrow would not be ideal, so we opted for a movie night in. Chloe had long since fallen asleep on the couch, so Mer and I moved into my bedroom to finish the movie on my laptop.

My eyes are on the screen, but my mind is elsewhere. It’s clouded with unanswered questions, doubts and concerns. Merriell’s chest is solid beneath my head, solid like so many things right now aren’t. Our relationship, however short it’s been, had become a constant. Something that had filled my days with nothing but good memories. It had felt solid. But now, as reality comes creeping back up to me with every second passing by, counting down to the dreaded flight home, I am quickly realizing that it’s not. I have come so accustomed to being with him. Talking, laughing, getting to know each other, it’s stupid to think I am already so invested in this ‘relationship’ that the mere thought of not being in contact with him anymore puts a pain in my chest I can’t even begin to explain.

I desperately want to postpone this conversation, to not have to ruin our last night together by bringing up the concept of ‘defining the relationship’. My mind runs over almost every possible outcome.

Best case scenario; He doesn’t want to let me go, we continue the relationship long-distance. I feel myself smile a bit at the thought of this one. My mind plays out fantasy scenarios, a series of storylines in which he surprises me at Uni after a stressful week of exams, or I surprise him on my reading breaks. I think about how hard it would be, yes, long distance sucks, but I also think about the late night face times and goofy snapchats. The thought of us fighting to keep this, this relationship that just feels so right, alive despite all odds, has my heart fluttering in hope that it’s is the outcome of this conversation.

As for the worst case scenario, well I did say I thought of almost all the outcomes. The truth is, I can’t bring myself to think about the worst case. Even though it very well could be a possible outcome. More so than the first one. My eyes fall to the time stamp on the screen, realizing there’s only so much time left and despite only knowing Mer a short while, I know that as soon as the credits start, he’ll be out like a light. It’s now or never.

“Mer?” I ask timidly, my voice small and barely above a whisper. Confrontation is not my strong suit, but I’ll go crazy if this conversation doesn’t happen.

He hums sleepily, hand coming up to rub circles on my back to show he’s listening.

There’s a heavy feeling in my chest as I utter my next question, like a ton of bricks, making it a little hard to breathe.

“Do you...” I start before changing my mind, biting my lip as anxiety rises up from the pit of my stomach, “What are we?”

I feel his body tense below me, hand freezing mid-circle on my back. It’s silent for a few moments before he clears his throat.

“What do you mean?”

I sigh, pushing the laptop away and bringing myself into a sitting position, “C’mon, you haven’t played dumb with me yet, don’t start now.” I force myself to look at him, “What are we? I leave in less than 12 hours, I need to know....” I trail off, “Where this is going.” I finish, my eyes searching his face for any sort of reaction.

He chews on his bottom lip, propping himself up on his elbows.

“I-” He stutters, sitting up further, “I thought we were jus’ having fun.” He shrugs.

There’s a pain in my chest at that. While yes, I understand why he would think that, this was never meant to be anything more than a brief summer fling, I’m still hurt that while I was letting myself daydream about long-distance relationships and surprise visits, he was counting down the days until I left and he could move on with the regularly scheduled program.

“Well,” I start, moving my gaze from him to focus on my fingers that are currently trying to tie and untie themselves into knots, “I guess we were. I mean, it was fun, right? But I just- I thought it was- and maybe it was different for you but on your end...” I sigh heavily, “I feel like there could be something really special here.”

It’s quiet after that. Both of us sitting across from each other, staring at the space between. It’s quiet for too long, and the longer he doesn’t say anything, the more I can feel my heart dropping. Despite the deafening silence, there’s still a glimmer of hope in my chest that maybe, just maybe, he’ll feel the same. Maybe, for once, someone will think I’m worth the hassle.

It’s been silent for too long.

“Is that...” I stop the ‘is that okay’ from leaving my lips, realizing there’s nothing wrong with my feelings for Merriell, “Are you gonna say something?” I ask instead.

His eyes flick up to meet mine, they’re unreadable. I’m unable to see what he’s thinking or feeling and it irks me. I’ve been able to read him so easily these past few weeks. Why is he hiding?

He shrugs, “What do you want me ta’ say?”

His tone takes me by surprise, it’s clipped and tense and almost angry sounding. It’s not what I was expecting and as a result, I am speechless. I don’t have an answer for him, so I just stare back at him. His eyes are cold and intense on me, unblinking.

“Want me ta say that I’ll follow ya to the ends of the earth or some shit? It’s only been two weeks.”

“I know that Merriell but-”

“But what? Ya love me?” He scoffs, “Right, like a girl like you could actually love me.”

His gaze breaks from mine as he gets out of the bed, beginning to pace and run his hands through his curls, wincing when it gets caught on a kink. I can’t even begin to unpack that, does he not deem himself worthy of my affection? Does he not see how incredibly crazy about him I am? I can do nothing but watch him, feeling more confused than ever.

He mutters softly to himself, “God Shelton, what the hell did you get yourself into this time?”

It’s my turn to scoff, “Well, fuck Merriell, I didn’t think whatever this is was such an inconvenience for you.”

“That’s not what I said.” he says, pointing a finger at me, “Don’t twist my words like that.”

“Okay, Okay,” I say, holding my hands up, “let’s just- take a breather here.”

He nods, taking a deep breath. I can see his thoughts spinning, trying to find an answer to my original question. I take a breath, trying once again to find the words for my feelings. I adjust my position on the bed, moving so my legs are over the edge, before speaking.

“Yes; we’ve only known each other for two weeks. I don’t expect you to uproot your whole life for me, I never expected that from you and I never will.” I start carefully, “I don’t know what I feel for you but I know... that it’s easy with you.” I stutter, words getting caught in my throat, “It’s easy to talk and to just be me. And I don’t know about you but that doesn’t happen very often for me.”

His hands bury themselves in the pocket of his sweatpants as his gaze flicks back to me, hanging on to my every word. He looks like a child, his eyes wide and filled with an unreadable expression, his hair an unruly mess on the top of his head. He makes no move to speak so I continue.

“If you don’t want to see me after I leave, that’s fine.” I swallow nervously, “But I think it’d be a shame though, to let something that comes so easy, go to waste.” It’s quiet for a beat. Until he laughs, a little hysterically, running his hands through his hair again, “Look, this wasn’t supposed ta’ be anythin’ more than a fling.”

My eyes narrow at that, “I know that-”

“Well if ya know that, then maybe you should loosen the reins a little.”

And then it’s quiet again, the only sound being the soft music of a title sequence and our breathing. A range of emotions spread in my chest; ranging from anger to hurt to frustration. I want desperately to understand why he’s reacting this way. Why he’s so angry and defensive when all I’m asking him boils down to is wanting to still communicate with him after I leave the state. I want to defuse the situation, try again and approach the conversation from a different angle.

All we do is stare at each other. The air thick with tension.

“I gotta get out of here.”

Panic surges up inside me, watching helplessly as he grabs his sweater off the floor and tugging it on before opening my bedroom door and walking out. I follow him; flinging myself off the bed. One glance to the couch tells me Chloe’s gone to her own room.

“Merriell-” I start, half reaching for him, trying desperately to get him to stay; to fix this. My hands dangle mid-air, not knowing what to do.

“I just- I gotta do some thinkin’ I’ll meet you at the airport tomorrow, just text me when you leave.”

And then with a slam of the door, he’s gone. Leaving me confused and dejected, wondering how the hell I got myself into this mess.

Part six

#rami malek #rami malek fic #Rami Malek Trash #Merriell Shelton #Merriell Snafu Shelton #merriell shelton x reader #merriell shelton/reader #Snafu Shelton #snafu x reader #snafu shelton x reader #snafu

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essaysbyciara · 5 years

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Thy Neighbor (Chapters 18 + 19) (Final Chapters!)

[Chapter 1][Chapter 2][Chapter 3][Chapter 4][Chapter 5 + 6][Chapter 7 + 8][Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11][Chapter 12] [Chapters 13 + 14][Chapter 15] [Chapter 16] [Chapter 17]

We’re at the end of Thy Neighbor. This was the first fanfiction I’ve written in full since I was like a smooth 17 years old LOL. I appreciate everyone who read one chapter or all 19. I will clean this up and post on Wattpad in the near future for all my Wattpad folk. Once again, THANK YOU for all the likes, comments, follows and messages. This was fun!

Ciara wakes up to the smell of turkey bacon. Inside of Trevante’s apartment.

Trying to reposition herself, she gently tugs on the blanket that covers her body. The sunlight almost blinds her. She finds her glasses on top of the coffee table, folded and at arms’ reach. She peeks under the covers for good measure. Her clothes are still intact, crop top hoodie and black tights. Crisis averted.

Ciara peeks over the couch. There stands Trevante’s shirtless frame standing over the stove, his black du-rag keeping his waves tight. His black basketball shorts barely hang on to his waist, the drawstring holding on for dear life.

“Good morning, “ Ciara says, her light steps preventing her from somewhat startling Trevante. The size of his body hides his slight fright once he hears her voice.

“Morning. My bad if I woke you up.”

“No, you’re fine. I must’ve been super tired last night to fall asleep over here.”

Expensive wine will knock a girl out. After two slices of pizza and two innings of baseball, Ciara’s head landed on Trevante’s left shoulder. He didn’t want to wake her. As her body cuddled into his side, he kept watching the game. He then got up to grab her a blanket. Walking into his room with a woman sleeping on his couch was new for him. He just knew that he wasn’t sending Ciara back to her apartment. He liked her inside of his apartment too much.

“It’s all good. You snore though.”

“I sure do. So what?” Ciara laughs as she sits on one of his bar stools next to the kitchen island.

“You sleep hard too because I definitely left to go the gym this morning and I did not wake you up.”

“Like I said, I must’ve been really tired.”

Watching Trevante in all his glory sends Ciara’s mind into overdrive. Such a mood, she wants to add to the ambiance. “You mind if I put a record on?” she asks. Trevante obliges. His heart does triplets when she presses play on his vinyl record player. “Oops” by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong fills the air.

“So what are you getting into today?” Trevante asks as he grabs the eggs from the fridge.

“I have a ton of homework to catch up on. Probably start outlining my thesis. Laundry. You?”

“Me and some of my dudes are going to the Phillies-Braves game.” Ciara’s blind encouragement to watch a baseball game last night pushed Trevante to hit up his friends in the group chat to plan a hangout at the ballpark. Trevante hadn’t been to a baseball game since high school. With his father. Ciara pushed him through just her presence to make that next step toward healing. “But can we hang out later? I actually want to bounce some of the work I’m doing with Proverbs off of you.”

In this moment, Ciara wants to think about Y’lan. She doesn’t care to do so.

“Sounds good. But listen, you’re a terrible host. You haven’t asked me how I like my eggs.”

“My bad, my bad. How you like ‘em? Scrambled, runny, sunny side up, what?”

“Yoked cooked all the way through but barely.”

Ciara watches Trevante crack her egg on the frying pan until she receives a text from Mahalia. She feels bad for leaving Ciara hanging last night.

Hey, girl. I’m so sorryyyyyyy. You saw Y’lan?! What? I’m coming over today.

Hey, Sis. Sure did. But something else happened last night too. I’ll tell you when you get here.

Oh LAWD 😁. I’ll be there around 12.

Bet. See you soon, Sis. Love you.

“Okay, I don’t think you know what you’re doing…” Ciara cracks on Trevante’s egg making skills. She walks up to him, nudging him with her hip to move over so she can make her eggs just the way she likes him. He hands over the spatula playfully.

“So show me…” Trevante slides behind Ciara, wrapping his colossal arms around her waist. As the heat grows between her back and his chest, she feels something else in the late stages of growing behind her too. Trevante’s shorts add an extra layer of friction between him and her tights. Ciara lets off a sigh punctuated by her biting her lower lip. Trevante then nuzzles his lips next to the right side of her neck.

“Tre, hold up…” Trevante begrudgingly but lovingly lets go. Ciara feels relieved even though that’s not the type of relief she wants right now. “Where are your plates?”

Trevante points to his left cabinet as he sits down at his island to hide what’s going on beneath those basketball shorts. As Ciara sets a plate of turkey bacon, toast and eggs in front of Trevante, he grabs her wrist in the same sweet way he did in the hallway last night. He pulls Ciara in between his legs for a kiss. Subconsciously, she grabs for the string on his basketball shorts. Looks like they’re skipping the friends part.

Chapter 19

Ciara sits in front of her laptop, two versions of the Bible to the right of her and her tattered notebook on her lap. Awaiting Mahalia’s arrival, her nineties R&B playlist serenades her from her headphones, Aaliyah’s “If Your Girl Only Knew” next up on the queue. As Mint Condition’s “So Fine” plays, she thinks back to her morning. That breakfast, the jazz. The way he held her, the way that kiss felt. The restraint it took for the both of them to not walk into his bedroom or take it to his couch. Or skip a trip to find Ciara sitting on top of his island. As good as it felt, Ciara couldn’t fight her worry. She needs to hold on to what she knows, she thinks. Even if it’s Tre.

As the song changes, she receives a text from Trevante.

Can’t wait to see you later 😏

She then hears a knock at her door.

“Hey, Ma…” Standing at Ciara’s door was a king of a man, 6’5 with the cutest gap in his teeth.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I’m looking for Trevante’s apartment.”

Ciara’s soul smolders once she hears his accent. “No worries. Next door.”

Ciara goes to close her door reluctantly until this behemoth of a mystery man stops her. “Hey, do you go to Penn’s School of Divinity?” Ciara is puzzled by how he would know -- and how she didn’t notice this man on campus sooner -- until she realizes that she’s wearing her hooded sweatshirt from school.

“Yeah! Theological Studies program. Going for my Masters. You go there too?”

“I’m starting my PhD at the Religious Studies program.”

“Really?! Which focus?”

“Ancient Judaism with a focus on early Christianity.”

“That’s awesome. They are doing a symposium on “The Way” in the Fall. Was lucky to get in it.”

“I’m actually the T.A. for that class. With Shrinkleman, right?”

“Yep! Cool, we’ll I’ll…”

“Hey, Winston. I thought I heard you out…” Y’lan walks out of Trevante’s apartment and into a conversation between Winston, his friend from church, and the girl he let get away. The same girl who kept it cute last night but was trying her best not to hate his very existence. Ciara’s chest grows hot and not just because she’s laying eyes on Y’lan. She realizes that Trevante and Y’lan know each other. Her worlds didn’t need to collide like this.

“Yeah, man. Knocked on the wrong door. It’s cool though.” Winston smiles at Ciara. Ciara returns the gesture. With a sprinkle of petty in Y’lan’s direction.

“Y’all ready to go?” Trevante walks out of his apartment with Yahya in tow. Yahya catches eyes with Ciara and quickly disengages, embarrassed by the other night. “Hey, Ci. What you doing out here?”

“Your friend knocked on my door by mistake. It’s all good though.”

“Oh shoot, this is Y’lan. The connect at Proverbs I was telling you about. Did y’all meet last night? I know you went up to their event.” Y’lan cuts off Ciara before she can answer.

“Yeah, we met last night. It’s good to see you again.”

“Same.” Not really.

Her past. Her present. Her pettiness. Her potential temptation. All standing in front of her door. Ciara is indeed loving the crew.

End of Thy Neighbor.

taglist: @hookedtoherfire @blackpinup22 @voyagetoadinas9

#trevante rhodes x fanfiction #trevante rhodes #y'lan noel #fanfic #thy neighbor

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xtheseviolentdelightsx · 4 years

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Out Of The Blue

Chapter 1: Mornings at the No Doze Cafe

One of Blue’s favorite things in the entire world was her ability to walk into the No Doze coffee shop at five a.m. every…single…morning and have a mocha waiting on the counter for her with the name Doc lovingly scribbled on the side, along with her usual everything bagel and cup of yogurt. It was a truly beautiful way to start the day even when the days stretched out so long that they ran into one another.

“Morning Ash.”

She greeted her best friend with a warm smile, and no she wasn’t her best friend just because she happened to be a caffeine dealer.

“Morning Blue.”

Ashley smiled back as she looked up from stocking the front display case with decadent pastries in an array of colors that just made you kind of happy to look at.

Blue was convinced that heaven itself had sent Ashley to her in the form of a freshman roommate at Harvard. Ash was her first true friend and over time had become her sister by choice. Like many of her overachieving classmates Ash had opted their junior year to start her own business while still attending classes. Her valiant attempt at a coffee empire came in the form of the No Doze café which had inevitably become their new home. Blue had spent as many hours studying here as she had at the library and had drank her weight in coffee a rather embarrassing amount of times. Now that Blue was in the second year of her residency program she didn’t get to spend as much time here as she would like and found herself seriously missing quality time with Ash.

“What’s today Blue?”

Ash was looking her up and down, openly assessing her appearance.

“Day one.”

Blue stifled a yawn.

“I knew you looked a little less like the walking dead. How many hours last week?”

“One hundred and eight.”

Blue tugged at her chestnut curls in order to tighten her ponytail.

“It’s the scrubs that gave it away, right? The fact that they’re clean?” She snarked, green eyes glittering with amusement.

“Is this primitive torture really necessary in this day and age? I thought hazing was illegal or at least seriously frowned upon and it just seems like an awful kind of hazing. I launched a business while going to school and worked less hours.”

Ash leaned her hip against the counter, arms folded, the picture of indignation on Blue’s behalf.

It touched Blue’s heart that Ash worried about her health and well-being, she’d never had that before, someone to care and it meant the world to her.

“You’re not wrong. I’m not sure how performing medicine while propping yourself up by IV stand is a good idea but some traditions refuse to die, no matter how many times you try to stab them to death. Some ass of a Doctor probably resuscitated the tradition while it was trying to bleed out.” She finished with a half shrug and a grin.

“Only one more year, right?”

“Four hundred and eighty-three days, not that I’m counting.”

The quiet laughter behind her made Blue turn.

“Oh, my apologies, didn’t mean to hold y’all up.”

“No hurry. I think you might need your caffeine fix more than we do Doc and that’s saying something.” The striking man smirked at her.

“Morning coffee buddy.”

“Thanks Clint, that means a lot coming from you. I know your coffee habits, I live them. Good morning.” Blue grinned and turned back to pick up her order. As she grabbed her coffee Ashley planted a kiss on her cheek.

“Good luck, try to fit in some sleep.”

“Yes mom,” Blue replied affectionately.

Ashley and Blue were used to the Avengers coming in at this point, they’d become regulars over the course of the last year. Even though they were daily flyers, Blue and Ash privately agreed that what they’d never adjust to was just how beautiful the heroes were in person. It was obnoxious really; genetics did not play fair.

Clint was the most frequent patron, often in multiple times a day. Sam, Steve and the rather intimidating Sergeant Barnes were in most mornings after their run. Others were less predictable. They figured it had to be a mix of the good coffee and the distance that brought them in, they were less likely to run into reporters or fans here. Whatever their reasons, every single damn one of them looked like a cover model and had the audacity to look that good whether it was five in the morning or midnight. On the days Blue drug herself in feeling like a certified zombie, that was seriously annoying, particularly as two of them tended to make her heart beat a little faster and she sure as hell didn’t have time for any of that nonsense.

Blue fell into the comfy, overstuffed chair at her favorite table. She then engaged in the last part of her morning ritual where she tuned out the world and spent exactly twenty free, joyous minutes reading something that was neither for school nor work. It was always a mystery novel of some flavor and this weeks was Hardcore Twenty-Four by Janet Evonivich. Interruptions to this beloved ritual were rare but this morning the quiet clearing of a throat caused her to look up.

“My apologies mam.”

Came in the form of a low rumble that threatened to make her toes curl. Blue knew he wasn’t an Angel but when she looked up at Steve Rogers, it was just a very little bit like looking into heavenly light.

“Hi Steve. What’s up?” Came out of her mouth but her internal monologue was busy running off the rails… “I am almost done with med school. I absolutely do not have time to date. He isn’t interested anyways; he’s just being nice. He’s really so very nice and kind and it would be so easy to talk to him…BUT every woman in the world probably throws themselves at his feet, with good reason, but I can do better than that, be better. I can be his friend. My pulse is not racing, my eyes will not dilate and the dopamine in my system will stay put. Friends are good. Be cool Blue.”

“Is it any good?” He gestured to the book. “I’ve picked up a couple I’ve seen you with but realized as a connoisseur it… well it would be nice to get your opinion before I bought them.” He finished with a smile and a small shrug.

“Mystery fan?” Did he just admit that he’d been watching her for weeks? That can’t be right. It’s just a coincidence, they frequent the same coffee shop, they both love mysteries. He was noticing her books not her.

Steve nodded. “I love a good read.”

Blue canted her head to the side. “You know…I never go back to them. Why don’t I just pass on the good ones when I finish one?” See she could be a good friend, that was definitely an offer a friend would make.

“Are you sure? I mean that would be really great, I would seriously appreciate it.”

He ran a hand through his hair and Blue could almost swear it was a nervous gesture. That was a funny thought though, him nervous talking to a little street waif like her, highly unlikely. On the other hand, if she were standing right now, her knees would maybe be a little weak.

“Mhhmm, no problem, I’d be happy to.” Blue gave him a small smile as if it was no big, keeping her façade of cool, at least she hoped that’s what it looked like.

“Anything else?”

Steve grinned, shook his head no and made a small huff that was almost a laugh. “No Doc. I truly look forward to it, thank you.” He knew when he’d been dismissed.

Blue nodded not quite clear on what was so funny. “Have a good day Mr. Rogers.”

Steve winced. “Steve, please. Mr. Rogers makes me sound like I host a children’s tv show.”

Blue’s eyebrows raised in confusion. “Huh?”

“No TV allowed in Blue’s house growing up Steve. Blue there was a Mr. Rogers who hosted a famous children’s TV show. Good stuff, you’d like it actually.” Ash interjected, swooping to her rescue.

“No TV, probably why she’s a Doctor and I’m slinging coffee.”

“Oh please.” Blue laughed as she exchanged a grateful glance with Ash.

Steve’s face lit up. “Someone else who is as woefully under educated about pop culture as I am? I didn’t think it was possible.”

Blue simply shrugged in response and her eyes moved back to the page of her book so she could mask her embarrassment. She hated feeling so out of the loop, but her lack of pop culture education often left her feeling that way. Steve took that as his cue to leave. Because she wasn’t watching she missed the amused glances shot back and forth between Steve, Clint and Sergeant Barnes at her not so subtle dismissal.

The small interruption had the unfortunate side effect of killing her focus and Blue’s mind naturally started the predictable slide into work mode. Ten minutes later when her alarm went off, she was still on the same page. With a sigh she tucked her bagel into her bag, it was a habit she couldn’t shake, always carrying extra food with her. Then she shouldered the bag, picked up her trash and headed out the door. As the shop door closed behind her it set off the happy tingle of the shop bell which covered the sound of Clint’s bemused laughter.

“Poor Steve, all the women in the world falling all over you and the one you finally decide on is utterly oblivious.” Clint goo-naturedly ribbed his friend.

“Hey Ashley, you don’t think she’s aware and just playing hard to get?” Clint was kind of dying to know.

Ash bit back a laugh. “No. Her focus is laser about getting through med school. I’ve known her for six years and she hasn’t been on a single date, as far as I know. Blue’s on scholarship and takes it seriously, she has to considering her circumstances. Excuse me for a sec guys.” Ashley stepped back into the kitchen as an oven timer began to ring.

“Steve’s never had game.” Bucky spoke softly as he squeezed his partner’s arm just above the elbow. As Ash had stepped away and it was just the three of them, he laid a tender kissed on his lips. “I find it endearing.” Bucky watched fondly as a blush climbed up Steve’s neck. “He does have excellent taste though.”

Steve shook his head and grinned. “It’s refreshing, honestly. She’s not any different with us than with anyone else I expect. I wonder what Ash meant about her circumstances?”

“Not sure but she just might be worth the wait. Poor woman doesn’t know what’s about to hit her if you are both intent on pursuing her.” Clint mused.

Steve gave Bucky a questioning look. Bucky pressed a kiss to his forehead and murmured softly. “She’s lovely, don’t give up. I’m looking forward to our first date.”

Bucky’s recovery had come a long way since Steve had saved him but in public he still preferred to let Steve take the lead and do the talking. He remembered how things were before, how he used to be the ladies’ man, but he wasn’t that person anymore, never would be again. Steve loves him anyways and that is far more than he deserves. Steve’s happiness is paramount to him, so he’d noticed Steve’s interest in the young Doctor before Steve was even aware of it.

He’d given the situation quite a bit of thought before encouraging his partner in that direction. They’d shared women in the past but had never considered adding one to their relationship long term. He and Steve were shadow and light, yin and yang, maybe too much so. A third might make things easier on Steve and he needed to make Steve happy. He owed him that. Now if they could just get Blue to give in to her interest in Steve. Of course, Steve would pick the one girl in the free world who wasn’t ready to throw themselves at his feet. Of course, he would, but he couldn’t fault Steve his choice. The more he observed the woman, the more he found his own interest piqued.

The doctor was different. Her phone wasn’t perpetually in her hand, she wasn’t constantly distracted by technology. She had noticed them, was surprised by their presence but he’d witnessed the moment she had visibly reigned her interest in. It had been a curious act of self-control. The more he’d watched the more he found himself intrigued and admittedly attracted. Unfortunately, their courtship seemed to be moving as slow as snail mail.

#fanfiction #fan fiction #bucky fic #bucky barnes #steve rogers #steve fic #stucky

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