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imgoingtohellsofuckit · 4 years

Text

Not The One For You

Rodrick x Reader

Warning - Smut (don’t be too hard on it )

Summary - Rodrick’s parents don’t like you so you are having dinner with them to change their mind

Rodrick Heffley wasn't the brightest kid. It was pretty much universally known. So when you told your friends that you were dating the wannabe rock star. It's not like you two were that different. You liked the same music, both had an alternative style, both of you were older siblings, had families who only saw reasons to be disappointed in you. On the outside you two getting together seemed to make a lot a sense. However there were a lot of differences that your friends decided to focus on. Specifically that you were actually really smart and wanted a life that was normal. Well halfway normal. You were excited to keep the alt style but you wanted an actual job. Granted you were trying to be a mortician but still. You wanted the job, the house, the family and well Rodrick wanted the fame and the glory of being a musician.

"You guys are acting like me dating him now means I'm going to spend the rest of my life with him," You point out, "we are 17.... the only thing we know is that we like each other right now."

"Yeah but it's Rodrick," One of them points out, "he's incapable of taking care of himself. This is gonna be your life."

"Exactly! I mean what if you do end up getting like married?"

"Then I handle it then," You answer, "you are looking way too deep into this. We are just dating."

"Babe you ready?" Rodrick calls over. You look back to see him a little bit down the hall from the circle of girls gathered around my locker.

"Of course Rod," You say as you shut the locker leaving your friends behind as you meet your boyfriend. He drapes his arm around you with a big smirk. Moving to plant a soft kiss on your forehead. My friends weren't the only ones who have problems with us. Rodrick's parents also found a lot to not like in our relationship. First of all Rodrick's mother is well- controlling to say the least. She saw another person in his life dressed in chains and all black, so she decided that I was just like the other people he hangs around with. Ignoring all the parts about me that aren't just my style. And whatever feelings about me his dad had all turned negative when Rodrick forgot to lock his bedroom door and his mom walked in.

"How was your day beautiful?" he asks as we head out to his van.

"It was slow- my calc teacher was riding my ass," You tell him, "deadass he wouldn't leave me alone. He sent me to the office for my outfit and they sent me back saying that it wasn't agaisnt dress code- because it isn't. And this mother fucker looks me dead in the eye and says- 'well if you didn't dress like a hooker I'd feel comfortable teaching you' which is like first off what the fuck."

"Thats gross- did you report him to the office?" Rodrick asks, "do I need to kick his ass?"

"I reported him and I called my mom- who by the way apparently is still on the phone with the principal," You say chuckling lightly, "and no you don't have to kick his ass- mostly because if you did.... you wouldn't win."

"Oh I totally could," He says, "I'm strong as hell."

"uH Rodrick babe I love you but he's the football coach and weighs 300 pounds," You say trying to explain it to him, "you'd get crushed. I still love you tho."

"I'm upset- I could kick his ass.... especially if he's being gross to you," Rodrick says. You nod unconvinced.

"How was your day?" You ask him.

"Boring - however I appreciated the pickup lines during history," He says, "it was cute..."

"I was gonna send my tittes but then I remembered your mom still reads your messages," You say smirking.

"Oh I missed out," He says, "think we can make a detour for a quicky in the car?"

"Your mom wants us there early," You remind him, "plus she's still on the fence about us being alone since she caught us in your room." He rolls his eyes lightly as we climb into his van.

"Yeah but let's say we make a detour to the store hookup in the back of the van and then grab some flowers or something for her to make it seem like we stopped for her," Rodrick suggests, "or maybe like a cake or something. To ya know show the peace..."

"Fine but you'd have to be quick," You tell him, "and you better tell me that your van is clean back there. Last time I got pizza in my hair."

"Clean... no it's not clean," He says, "but I brought a blanket and we can like spread it over the back... It'll be fine..."

"Fine but the second I touch rotting food it's over," You say firmly. He smirks as he changes the course towards the store just up the street. He makes sure to get in the back line of the parking spots taking the furthest one from the store. He climbs in the back first shoving the trash around the back. The finally throws the blanket down across the back.

"Just like imagine rose petals and a bed and shit," He says. It's quite literally the opposite of the romance that I'd prefer but he's a giant punk dumbass so you have no idea why you would of thought this would be any different. He sits down and looks at you with a goofy smile. "Malady would you like to join me?" You chuckle before climbing back to join him. The second you get back there he already starts yanking off his shirt. Way too excitedly for his own good. You smile as you move to pull off your layers. Finally as you both get to your underwear he looks at you excitedly. "You're so hot."

"Awe thanks cutie," You say as you climb on his lap moving to meet his lips. His hands fall to your waist. Holding on as you take full control of the situation. You can feel the excitement coursing through him. You chuckle lightly. You move to pull his member free from his boxers. The moving your own underwear to sink down onto his member. He lets out a loud moan as I set the slow pace.

"Mmm you're amazing," He says softly. You chuckle as you quicken the pace. Soft moans filling the car. You can tell you both are moving way more than you thought you would. Anyone on the outside would know automatically what was happening. All you can hope for is no one relaying the information back to Rodrick's mother. "Uhh baby," He moans loudly. You move pulling him into a deep kiss. Feeling the moans through the kiss. You can tell he's not gonna last much longer. You move laying back allowing him to take control. He smirks widely and starts at his assault. The moans filling the van. Echoing off the metal walls. Finally he pulls out. Spilling his load on your legs. "Did you?"

"No not yet," You say slightly annoyed at him finishing before you. He nods pulling your legs on his shoulders. Pulling you towards him. He latches his mouth on your clit trying his best to get you off. He's sloppy. But even the sloppiest technique when your this close could send you way over the edge. Your hand moves over your mouth as you come upon. Stifling the loud moans as you cum. He doesn't stop. He keeps going. Your body feels so good you could scream. He pulls away after a minute catching his breath. "Come here," You demand. He complies clearly excited to see you like this. You move getting on your hands and knees. He looks like he's about to scream at the sight. He moves pushing himself in with out warning. Pounding into you as fast as he could.

"Mmmm I love you so much," He groans.

"I love you too Rod but please go faster," You moan. He complies. The van was filled with a pure moaning mess. "Oh Rod I'm gonna cum again." You can barely finish the words as you hit your second orgasm. He pulls out as you simply lay down on the blanket.

"Holy fuck," He says as he lays down beside you.

"Fuck Rodrick," You say softly, "we have to go see your parents after this."

"Yeah I guess we kinda went a little too hard," He says softly, "and we still have to actually get flowers or something."

"Ughh think you can manage that?" You ask, "I'm gonna go get cleaned up."

"Yeah what kind?" He asks.

"I don't care get something thats pretty but not a million dollars," You say as you sit up pulling your underwear back on. He nods as he follows suit in pulling on his own clothes. Once you both are fully dressed you climb out of the van. He takes your hand genteelly.

"You're beautiful you know that," He says smiling at you. You move pecking his cheek.

"Thanks Rod."

Once inside the store the two of you split up. You head to the bathroom to clean yourself up. Fixing you makeup and hair. Trying to make the whole thing less obvious. You meet him back at the entrance. He's holding two sets of flowers.

"Rodrick I know you're bad at math but I know you can at least count to thirty," You say chuckling.

"Actually I got these daisies for my mom," He says, "and these roses are for you." He hands the bouquet over to you. You take them with a big grateful smile. Moving in to pull him into a quick kiss. As you pull back he moves draping his arm around your shoulders. "Come on beautiful." As you both make your way to his van you can't help but smile. Sure he's not the most romantic boyfriend- he did just fuck you in the back of his disgusting van and instead of cleaning it to do so he threw a blanket over rotting food and old condoms. But the small gestures like the roses and the compliments. Really just prove that he's not as bad of a boyfriend as everyone thinks he is.

It doesn't take us long for you guys to reach his house. He holds your hand as he leads you both into the house.

"Rodrick is that you?" His mom calls.

"Yeah mom!" Rodrick yells back. His mom moves from the kitchen over to the doorway. She looks over us.

"Rodrick it is a 5 minute drive from the school to the house why did it take you almost an hour?" She asks him clearly not happy with you both. You smile nervously as you hand her the flowers. This dinner was my chance to fix the fact his parents didn't like me. And getting railed by their son right before this interaction was very much hurting my chances of this going well.

"We had to go to my mom's shop real quick then we picked up these flowers," You tell her, "sorry my fault. My mom wanted me to bring her a coffee." Her expression softens.

"Awe well thank you," She says, "how was your day Y/n?"

"Oh it was good," You tell her, "very productive."

"That's good! Here come with me I want you to taste this sauce for the pasta," She says brightly, "it's a new recipe." She starts moving off to the kitchen. Rodrick gives you a slightly impressed look before leading you both into the kitchen.

The rest of the dinner actually goes really well. Rodrick's mother despite her reserves after catching you and Rodrick seems to finally have forgiven you. Letting go of the stupid blame she had for you "corrupting her son" or whatever garbage she went on about.

"I hope Rodrick is being a gentleman," Mrs. Heffley says to you.

"Oh he is," You tell her, "he got me roses today. And he's always opening doors for me. Making sure to sent me good morning texts. He's actually a really good boyfriend." He smiles at you. You tighten your grip on his hand. She looks pleased with his answer. Greg starts to make a snarky comment but his brother kicks him from under the table.

"That's good, I'm proud of you Rodrick," His mother says. His father looks between you and his son. Not completely convinced his son would act like anything other than the slob he knows.

"We are talking about this Rodrick right?" His father asks.

"Yeah actually," You say, "I know it might be hard to believe- I didn't believe it at first."

"What's so hard to believe about it?" Rodrick asks, "she's my girl and I want to make her happy-" The sweet words ending in a loud burp. Both of his parents sigh loudly. You simply chuckle. He looks over to you with a big smile. Then moves pecking your forehead.

"Yeah she's perfect for you Rodrick," Greg says, "anyone who can handle that- you better keep her around."

"Can it nerd," Rodrick says harshly.

"So what are you planning to do after school?" Mrs. Heffley asks you.

"I'm planning to go to school and studying mortuary science," You explain, "Mortician's are a job that's always gonna be there... And it helps that my grandmothers a mortician and is hiring me on her staff when I meet the requirements to join." She nods along to your words.

"Oh so you want a real job," His father says, "hmm Rodrick you could try that some time."

"No thanks old man," Rodrick says, "I'd rather stick something that actually matters. Like music... Not that I think your ambitions don't matter Y/n."

"No I understand," You tell him, "you have your dream and I have mine." You look to his parents. "Real jobs are relative... society is changing and becoming things like musicians and influencers is a lot easier than it was before." His mother chuckles nervously. You know that they have this thing against Rodrick's music. However you also know you want to support your boyfriend way more than you want his parents to like you. "I believe that Rodrick will do great in his music career...."

"Awe thanks babe-"

"If he works for it," You continue, "the music industry is hard and you have to stand out. I'm sure he'll get there but it'll take a lot of work."

"That's well put," His father says.

"She's very insightful," Rodrick says, "right babe?" You chuckle lightly. His mother looks back to you.

"So where is this school your looking at?" She asks you, "is it local? Or are you going away?"

"Oh it's local actually," You explain, "the next town over really but it's like a 20 minute drive." She nods. You give her a soft smile. "It's just a small college. I told Rodrick to check it out. They have a music production course which is apparently really nice."

"I've looked into it," Rodrick says, "and I don't know if school is for me... Considering I barely go when it's free I don't know if I want to pay to skip school all the time."

"You wouldn't be paying for all of it," His dad says, "if you actually go I might help... but you'd have to stay enrolled." Rodrick scoffs.

"School doesn't have to be for you Rod," You say to him, "but it's worth a look ya know. Maybe even a tour. You don't have to decide right now."

"Fine I'll tour it," He says, "we can tour together."

"Did she just get Rodrick to agree to tour a college?" His father asks in disbelief, "this isn't real?"

"Shhh don't say anything he might change his mind," His mother says quietly. Rodrick stabs at his pasta. He takes his last bite and then looks to his parents.

"I'm gonna drive her home," Rodrick says, "we'll probably stop to get something sweet on the way. That good?"

"Yeah of course," His mom says, "it was lovely seeing you Y/n."

"You as well Mrs. and Mr. Heffley, I hope I see you again soon," You say to them.

"Oh well how about you come to Grandpa Heffley's birthday party," Mrs. Heffley offers, "it'll be here and I'm sure the family would love to meet you... And you and Rodrick have been dating for a little bit now so I'm sure they'd love to see more than just the pictures you and Rodrick post online."

"Is that okay with you Rodrick?" You ask him.

"Sure it'll make it a lot less boring," Rodrick says, "can we head out now?"

"Yes Rodrick," His mother says clearly not loving his attitude. You wave to them as you stand. Rodrick leads you both out to his van.

"You sure that it's okay?" You ask, "If you don't want to then I don't have to go."

"It's literally fine," He says as you both get into his van, "honestly if you're there I'll actually have someone who likes me there." He gives you a smile. "I'd love it if you'd go."

"Then I'll go," You tell him, "it's nice that your parents seem to like me again."

"Yeah now I can have you over without my mom making us sit downstairs," Rodrick says, "and I don't have to hear the whole- 'are you sure about y/n?' speeches now." You chuckles.

"That's good," You say, "I love how your parents didn't like me but my mom adores you."

"Oh yeah I know," He says, "not the way I pictured that going honestly. I was afraid your mom would hate me."

"No she loves you!" You exclaim, "she thinks it's good that I'm with someone who likes to have fun... something about how I don't do that enough. And my grandma thinks you're funny."

"You're grandpa doesn't like me," Rodrick points out.

"Yeah well he doesn't really like me either," You add, "he's against anything that's different. I mean he's still harassing my mom about having two kids out of wedlock so there wasn't any hope for you babe."

"Didn't he want you to have like a chasty belt?"

"No he bought me a purity ring," You correct, "I gave it back to him saying that I don't believe in waiting til marriage and he called his priest on me... Ooo if I wear that would your mom like me more?"

"I think after she caught us having sex a thing about being a forever virgin won't really mean much," He says, "even if its a religious thing." You shrug in response.

"I tried," You say, "so whats this sweet thing you want to get on the way to mine?"

"You," He says with a smirk, "your mom home?"

"Not for another hour," You say brightly.

"Good because I think I've still got more in me."

"You're a dog Rodrick."

"And you love it," He says with a smirk.

“I really do.”

#rodrick #rodrick heffley #diary of a wimpy kid #rodrick heffley x reader #Rodrick Heffley x reader smut #x reader

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years

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Can you do a part three of this?

For You Part 3

Part 1, Part 2

Thank you for asking for a continuation! I actually had one started, but thanks for the reminder to keep it going!

@forestfanders I didn't know if you wanted to be tagged again, but if you did here.

Warnings: cannibalistic behavior, implied sleep deprivation, fainting, mentions of eating animals in a gross way, vampires, blood, feverish whumpees, delirium implied, hospital setting, drugged mention, dead (minor) characters

Supervillain was knocked to the ground by a comet of murderous ferocity. Involuntary reflexes kicked in and there legs instantly shot up to block the attack, but Villain was quicker and was already clawing at Supervillain's chest.

Realizing that Villain had the upperhand, Supervillain grabbed the walkie talkie from their belt, pressed the botton and yelled,

"I need assistance in Villain's room!"

And then they went back to working on calming the thrashing villain down.

"Villain," Supervillain pleaded. Fierce yes, but also incredibly weak, the villain slowed their assualt.

Supervillain took the opportunity to grab one of Villain's wrists and twist it around. They stood up and flip Villain back onto their stomach.

Suddenly being completely vulnerable, Villain ceased all struggles and laid there limp, sobbing. Sounds of distress tore their way out of Villain's throat in animalistic tones.

"Villain," Supervillain released some of the pressure on Villain's arm and leaned close to their ear. They whispered soft words of comfort as a herd of henchman galloped into the room.

Instantly, the breathless cries coming from Villain were masked by the ramble of incessant questions.

"Are they okay?"

"What happened to them?"

"Have they... turned?"

"Why are you pinning them?"

"Oh my gosh, what happened?"

"Supervillain... are you okay? Tell me you are okay!"

"Should I call an ambulance? Or Hero?"

"Oh my, what do I do? I dunno what to do."

Supervillain didn't answer any of their concerned henchmen and gathered Villain into their chest, hugging them tightly while rocking back and forth. The movement made their heavy head drop, forhead nearly resting against Villain's head...

"Boss?"

Supervillain jerked, trying to remember what they were just thinking about. They must've dozed off for a second as they couldn't recall anything...

A hand was resting against their shoulder. A voice whispered something. But Supervillain ignored all signs of life outside their tunnel vision. They stood up on their knees, and clumsily shoved Villain back onto the bed.

They didn't notice a henchman help them.

Upon completing their task, Supervillain stood completely up.

Then it hit them. A wave of dizziness crashing down to make them stumble.

"I'm fine... f-fine... just lil'..." Supervillain slurred as they swayed.

"Boss?" Distant and cold.

As if they were buried under the snow.

Supervillain tried to step forward. "I-i-i... I..." they mumbled just as they fell to their side- limp as a wilted daisy.

"Someone, catch them!"

Two arms under their armpits.

And then they descended into darkness.

The door barged open and a steaming henchman entered the cozy bedroom that could also be described as a generous cell. Hero raised an eyebrow at the seemingly mad lackey.

"What can I do for you? Is it time for my blood to be mercilessly spilled for the sake of dear Villain?" Hero asked smugly.

"You mean the 'dear villain' that fed you, risked their life, and nearly died for you?" Henchman sassed back.

"I reckon that'll be the one," Hero confirmed, a smirk growing on their face. "Are they still sick? Or have they turned?"

Henchman replied with their own question, "How do you contain a vampire?"

And it kind of answered Hero's question as well.

"Well, you are containing me right?"

"A vampire that just wants to kill."

"Oh you don't," Hero said quickly. "Just give them a rat or something."

"We should feed you a rat, with mashed up worms as garnish."

"I'd prefer a cheeseburger."

"Well-" a sound of static interrupted Henchman's retort.

"Hello?" Henchman spoke into their walkie-talkie.

"Boss woke up, muttering something crazy. Looks feverish," came a reply from the other end.

"Figures. They wore themselves out pretty good," Henchman replied.

"Yeah. They said something about a magician, but we really can't trust anything they are saying right now."

"What about this magician?"

"Dunno, but apparently they know about vampires."

"So does Hero-"

"And how to un-vampire them."

"Oh," Henchman tutted, glancing at Hero who was unceremoniously making faces. "Knock it off!" Henchman growled.

"What's that?"

"Nothin'. See if you can ask where this magician is."

"As I said, we can't-"

"DO IT!"

"Okay, okay... hey boss, where is your magician friend?"

A bunch of garbled nonsense sounded from the other end.

"Someplace in the darkside of town," the henchman on the walkie-talkie said.

"Tell whoever assumed leadership that I'm heading out," Henchman said.

"'Kay."

Henchman turned to leave, but Hero's voice stopped them.

"If you don't feed Villain soon, they are gonna starve. They need to resume a human status soon. Can't you give them the pills?"

Henchman left without another word.

Henchman sauntered through the lazy streets, barely looking over their shoulder. They were somewhat accustomed to the creepy, dark and stagnant environment of the neighborhood.

The neighborhood must've got bored of whatever inactive game it was playing as a group of men and women jumped over fences and rushed at Henchman with guns in their hands.

Henchman pulled out their own handgun.

"What brings you here?" A classy man spoke, his voice taut with some kind of accent.

"I am searching for a magician."

Rumbles of murmured voices rang through the threatening crowd.

"We have no magician," the man spoke. Henchman raised their eyebrows- that was obviously a lie.

"Hmm. I see. What if I told you that Supervillain orders this?" Henchman asked.

There was no time for secretive whispers. An old man pushed himself through the crowd and hobbled over to Henchman. Despite the old, lethargic impression he gave, his voice was unnaturally deep.

"Henchman," he boomed. "Welcome to The Alley."

Supervillain woke up to flashing LED lights and the beeeeeep of monitors, signifying their awakening.

They coughed, trying to remember what just happened...

Villain. Attacking. Falling. Darkness... Supervillain shuddered. The hospital room surrounding them made sense now. They tried to sink back into the less than comfortable mattress, but a nagging reminder of Villain kept them from falling back asleep.

What if they were getting sicker? They didn't have anymore pills- that happened to cost ten grand a piece- so changing them back to human was not an option.

What if they attacked someone? Supervillain couldn't deal with three vampires. Two was more than enough.

Hero.

They thought of that insufferable luggage contently laying in a perfumed guestroom. Supervillain snarled. Once the drugs wore away, they turned into a little brat- sassy without a care for the world.

"Looks who's awake."

Supervillain's gaze shot to the door as Doctor and Henchman2 walked in. They craned their neck to look for Henchman, but discovered that they weren't there.

"Where's Henchman?" They asked, worry knitting at their voice.

"They went looking for a magician that you kinda fever-ordered them to pursue," Henchman2 replied. "They've been gone about seven hours."

Magician...

No.

"Gotta get them back," Supervillain speed-yelled. "They are in trouble."

Henchman2 flinched back towards the door instinctively.

"What do you mean?" Henchman2 asked.

"Magician, he..." Supervillain shook their head. "Never helps anyone."

(Flash foward in time)

Supervillain spat at the ground, wrists bound and tied above their head. Their henchmen were in a similar predicament, bound, or unconscious...

Or dead.

A voice cackled through the auditorium as a shadowed figure made its way through the red curtains.

"Welcome, my lowly servants." The voice, so familiar, yet so uncharacteristic rang through Supervillain's ears.

"Today," the voice continued. "I have a special demonstration."

The figure stepped to the center of the stage, dragging a bound and gagged hero behind them.

"I am going to show to you what happens when you mess with the master," the figure continued and drew a blade. They pressed it against Hero's artery.

But before they plunged the dagger, they whipped off their hood to reveal a pale, stony face.

Their eyes were sunken and devilishy black.

They were Villain.

#villain whumpee #whump #whump community #heroes and villains #vampire #tw death mention #writing #supervillain whumpee #supervillain caretaker #villain whumper

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staticscreenwriting · 4 years

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Casual moths - chapter seven

Find the other parts on my masterlist here.

If you liked this part and wanna help me out, please consider a reblog. Thank you.

Chapter seven - ice-cream and cuddles

Angel is leaning against the side of the building, cigarette dangling from his hand. Every once in a while his gaze drifts back towards the big front windows of the ice cream shop. Callie and Daisy are sitting in one of the booths with the bright blue plastic benches. Daisy is happily pointing at pictures in the menu in front of her, no doubt trying to decide which flavour to chose.

He can’t hold back the smile pulling at his lips as he thinks back to a moment ago when Daisy spotted him waiting in the car as Callie picked her up from her mother’s place. There’s an infinite amount of adoration and affection in her whenever she interacts with him and though he knows kids get infatuated with just about anyone, it still fills him with pride to know that she likes him this much. That she likes having him around.

Some irresponsible, delusional part of his brain conjures up thoughts of a future much like this. One where the club doesn’t get tangled in cartel shit anymore. Where violence and death doesn’t pave his way. Where he can lead a good life with his girls. Maybe have a little house with a garden and a pool for Daisy to swim. They could get a dog, a big fluffy one. And maybe someday down the line he’d get Callie pregnant again. See her carry his baby. Give Daisy a sibling. They’d have so much love to give. One thing Angels knows for sure, never would any of his children (blood related or not) feel inadequate. Never would they be made to feel like they had to compete for his love. He’d remind them of it every damn day, so much so that they’d probably grow sick and tired of their old dad. He wouldn’t care though as long as they knew they were loved unconditionally.

A future like that, he can almost see it, it’s there in front of him just waiting for him to reach out and grab it. But he can’t. Because he knows that no matter how much he wants it and no matter how close and real it seems, it’s just a dream. Though the movies and songs always tell you to do it, chasing your dreams is dangerous, it’s scary. Because there comes a point when maybe you can’t catch up anymore, where you have to admit to yourself that it won’t happen. And what then ? The movies never talk about that. About the heartbreak and the pain.

So he tries to keep those thoughts pushed to the back of his mind and just enjoy the time he’s given with these two ladies, however short or long that will be.

The ringing of his phone shakes him from his daydream and, after stomping out the bud of his cigarette, he answers.

“ Took you long enough. What held you up, man ? Your kid got her hands on a screwdriver again ? “

Coco’s unamused chuckle sounds through the receiver, “ very funny. You should be a fucking comedian “.

“ Tell me something I don’t know. “

“ So, what’s got your balls in a twist then ? “

“ Someone trashed Callie’s Flower shop and I need to find the guy. “

“ Shit, really ? How bad is it ? She alright ? “

“ She’s not hurt but that shop is her baby. And that guy, he’s been stalking her for a while now. So me crazy delusional ex. He needs to go Coco. “

“ Geez man, ya know I have your back but — “

“ I don’t wanna kill him. I just wanna scare him off. “

Yet. He doesn’t wanna kill him yet. If this whole scaring off thing doesn’t work, Angel is not afraid to move on to more drastic measures. That’s both a vice and a virtue, he thinks, once someone means something to him, he’s willing to do everything to keep them safe. He’s fiercely protective, loyal to his family, to the people he — loves.

Killing that guy is not something he wants to do necessarily, but he will if it comes to it, if he has to. Coco doesn’t need to know all that though, not right now.

“ You know where to find this guy ? “

“ Not yet. I got the prospect watching her house. If I ain’t with her I’ll have him watch her every step. “

“ So what do you need me for ? “

“ I uh — kinda wanna fix shit at the store, kinda rebuild it. “

“ Angel. “

“ Look, I’ll put in all the money and shit I just need someone to help me out with the work. “

“ I got shit to do. “

“ Like what ? Making more kids ? “

“ Fuck you, Angel. “

“ That was a joke, ok ? Just a joke. Look, she’s real important to me. I told her I’d fix this. “

He can hear Coco sigh at the other end of the phone. Angel is painfully aware that this is a lot to ask of Coco. But he’s his closest friend and who else would he turn to if not Coco. They’ve been through the biggest piles of shit together, this is nothing compared.

“ Well why the fuck would you say that ? Man, will you ever stop thinking with your dick ? “

He’s not. Maybe for the first time in his life in a situation where a woman is involved that he’s thinking with something other than his dick. He’s letting his heart lead for the first time ever. But that’s a cheesy fucking thing to say so he doesn’t say it.

“ It’s not like that. Not this time. “ he hopes the sincerity in his words translates well through the phone. Because this is serious. Whatever it is he has with her is so serious to him.

Coco is silent for a moment and Angel can just imagine him fighting with himself. But this is Coco and though he’s a weird dude, he’s got a big heart and he’s as loyal as a god damn Golden Retriever.

“ Alright. Alright I’ll help you. But you owe me man, big time. “

“ I do. I know I do. Thanks Coco. I’ll come around the clubhouse later, we’ll talk then. “

“ Sure, whatever man. Only doing it because she’s a nice girl. “

“ You have no idea. “

She’s not just nice, she’s incredible. She’s everything.

As he catches her eyes through the window, his heart skips a beat and he knows then, that he’s doing the right thing. He’ll do whatever he has to, to see that smile.

“ I gotta go, Coco. Talk later. “

“ Yeah alright. Bye. “

As he finishes his phone call, Angel steps inside the ice cream store, the bell above the door chiming up as he enters. Daisy looks up and there it is again, the sparkle. The adoration as she looks at him like he’s some kind of hero. He’s far from it but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t at least try to stay the hero in her story.

“ So, what have you girls decided on, huh ? “ he asks as he slides into the booth next to Callie, Daisy sitting across from them.

“ I want one scoop of bubble gum, one scoop of mint chocolate chip and lots of sprinkles. “ the little girl replies.

“ Ooooh sprinkles sound good. What about whipped cream ? “

She enthusiastically nods her head. “ Yes. Love whipped cream. “

“ Me too. “

It feels easy being here, light. It feels as if all his problems don’t exist when he is with Callie and Daisy. They give his life a certain glow, a pop of color that hasn’t been there before.

He feels Callie’s hand slip into his underneath the table, fingers tangling with his. He was never one for PDA, never one for holding hands. That was before Callie though. Now every little sign of affection, he soaks up like a sponge. And so when she looks up at him he presses a soft kiss to her lips and it feels — right.

It’s later that day, the sun slowly setting sends a pink glow across all of Santo Padre. Angel is holding a half asleep Daisy in his arms. Her head rests on his shoulders as she tiredly murmures on about some animated movie she’s been watching the other day.

This girl seems to have an unlimited amount of energy. He remembers being a child. Things back then felt infinite. Everything was exciting and grand and breathtaking. Even back then he realised that EZ was the golden child of the family. The one his parents’ hopes and dreams rested on. But it didn’t matter then because all it meant back then, was less pressure resting on him. That would change once he turned into a teenager but back then it really didn’t matter. All that mattered was having fun and causing chaos and making chocolate chip pancakes with his mom on a sunday morning.

“ Do you wanna take a nap baby ? “ Callie asks, as they enter her apartment, and combs her fingers softly through her daughter’s hair.

The little girl shakes her head adamantly, clinging tighter to Angel. Again, he can’t help but smile.

“ I wanna stay with Angel. I wanna watch Pets. “

“ You sure ? You seem really tired. “

Again she shakes his head “ No. I wanna stay with Angel. “

Her words are lulled in a sleepy voice and both Callie and Angel know she’s not gonna last much longer but neither of them really have the heart to tell her no.

“ I don’t know if Angel wants to stay ? “ Callie says then looks up at him. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking but he’s sure there’s something in her eyes, hope, longing — love.

“ Oh yeah I do. I’ll stay as long as you girls want me around “.

Those words seem harmless, as if it’s just about tonight’s plans. They aren’t though. They mean more. They hold a heavy weight. And Callie knows it, she can see it in his eyes.

So when she smiles back, his heart soars. “ You’re always welcome here, always. “

“ Guess we’ll be watching Pets then “ he says and sits down on the couch with Daisy still holding onto him as if he might vanish if she lets go even a tiny bit.

“ You do that. Lemme just go shower real quick, Daisy knows how the TV works. Make yourself a home. “

With that, Callie disappears in the bathroom.

“ D’you wanna show me how to put the movie on ? “ Angel asks, trying to get Daisy to look up at him. She does and her big gorgeous eyes look tired. So so tired, it seems to be a struggle for her to keep them open at all.

“ It’s the silver thingie, press the big button first. “ she instructs him and points towards a silver remote control. Angel does as she says and the TV springs to live. He’s shown a menu of several things to chose from, TV, Amazon, Netflix, Music. There’s a big selection of things though none of that catches his attention.

What does catch his attention, is the picture in the background of the selection screen, one that Callie clearly uploaded and chose herself. She’s there, a bit younger, hair a bit longer and styled differently. But it’s her no doubt. The smile is the same radiant ray of sunshine that he’s grown so fond of. She’s holding a baby, one that can’t be older than a few weeks. Tiny thing. So so tiny. He doesn’t know a lot about babies, thinks they all look pretty much identical, so really he can only assume this one’s Daisy. He’s fairly sure of that though, judging only by the way Callie is looking at her in that picture. Full of love. Pride. Happiness.

There’s a man there, holding them close. His eyes are displaying the exact same kind of love. He seems so proud of these girls and Angel can only assume how that feels. He feels glimpses of that, tiny sparks every once in a while. But this guy, those were officially his girls, no buts, no almosts, no maybes. Those were his girls through and through.

“ That’s my daddy. He went to heaven when I was a baby. “ Daisy’s tiny voice speaks up again. “ Mommy says he loves me very much. She always tells me stories. She says he’s up in the sky watching me and making sure I don’t get hurt. “

It hasn’t occurred to him until now, that Daisy knows so very little about her own father. That all she ever gets to learn about him is from other people’s stories. She was too young to really remember him. He wonders what that is like. Wonders if in the end it saves her a lot of heartbreaks. Maybe it’s easier to lose something you don’t remember, something you never know you had in the first place.

“ Oh I’m sure he’s watching over you. Looking at all your pretty drawings. He’s probably really proud of you learning how to swim. “

“ You really think he’s up there ? I can’t see him. “

This is not a conversation he thought he was going to have today. Existentialism and life after death is not usually a topic to debate about with a small child. And yet, sometimes kids have an easier approach to things. One that’s both less and more factual at the same time. They spend not thoughts on being reasonable, they just want to know. They just want to understand.

“ You know, my mom went to heaven a few years ago and she always told me people we love never really leave us, that they sit up there on clouds and watch over us and send us little miracles, little wonders every once in a while when we need them. I didn’t believe any of that. My mommy was gone and I was so sad and there were no miracles for me, nothing. It felt like she was just — not there anymore. But then something did happen, life did send me a miracle and now I think my mom might actually be there looking out for me. “

He’s never told this to anyone before. Has had a hard time coming to terms with this himself. But spilling his heart to Daisy, someone he knows won't judge him, it feels good. It feels liberating. Like someone is taking a huge weight off of his shoulders.

“ What happened ? “ Daisy asks, cuddling further into him as he leans back on the couch.

“ I met your mama. “

“ Mama’s your miracle ? “

“ Mmmh. And you too. “

She kisses his cheek at that and he’s sure he’s melting right there and then.

“ You’re my miracle too. “ she says and lets a big yawn overtake her. “ Now can we watch secret life of pets ? “

“ Sure little one. Sure we can. “

It’s 20 minutes later that Callie walks back into the living room. Obnoxious animated cats and dogs are jumping around on the tv screen. She’s just about to speak up, when her eyes drift towards the couch and a smile overtakes her face.

Angel is lying on the couch, Daisy resting on his chest. Both are fast asleep, little snores echoing through the room.

This, she decides then, is a sight she wants to see more often. This is what she wants her future to look like. Even if it’s scary. Sometimes scary things are good. Sometimes they really are worth it.

And if anyone is worth it, it’s Angel. Even if he can’t see that himself.

#angel reyes x reader #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes fanfic #angel reyes imagine #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc imagine #mayans imagine #mayans fanfic #mayans mc fanfic #casualmothsstory

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spacegaywritings · 4 years

Text

Warming Paws and Melting Hearts (7/8) “Spider Threat”

General

Summary: Remy is suddenly startled by a bigass spider but Virgil is ready to launch himself onto it and eat it within seconds. Remy snuggles his saviour, still petrified but oddly proud and somewhat impressed

Tags: spider, eating (living spiders), cat Virgil being a predator, Virgil being a protector, Remy screeching like a scared bapey, fluff, snuggles, cuddles, soft, mentions of previous intoxication, lapses in memory, hangover, twist, Emile, oopsie daisy~, also weird descriptions of violence, but it is all fluffy, dramatic eating of a living spider, uhh being mean to spiders, food, eating, headaches, Remy does not get painless rights istg

Ao3: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 // all.

Tumblr: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7(you are here) / 8 (next week!!).

My KoFi - Support me ♥ or Commission me

Story under the cut! (Wordcount ~1,3k)

It was the usual weekend, just an average morning. Remy cuddled up on the couch and got ready to enjoy his hangover in front of the TV. Yes, it was the perfect day to stay inside and never go out again.

His limbs were hurting, the sun was shining and warming up the air enough for him to despise the outside even more than he usually would. It was unclear to him as to why he was on the couch instead of his bed but like many other instances about last night, his memory remained unhelpful. He might not remember but he probably stumbled over the couch and passed out because he missed Virgil or was worried about locking them out of his bedroom.

Knowing his drunk self, it was probably one of those things. He was pretty silly, especially when drunk.

Remy gently hugged a nearby pillow and put on his favourite comfort show. Last night had been good and bad in the weirdest ways. His memory was hazy, blurry at best. He did not dare touch his phone. No, it was time to bury himself under his fluffy blanket and eat chocolate until his headache was drown out by the pure power that was a fucking sugar shock. Some part of him hoped to push away the reality if he just failed to acknowledge it for a little while longer.

On the other hand, he was motivated by a weird desire to consume sugar. He longed for the sugar high that came with ignoring his body’s limits ever so idiotically. His body was loosely covered in a wide, white shirt with black letters spelling out “Sleep”. Pants? Yeah, he kinda wore boxers with lemons on it because they were sour like him. His sunglasses were perched up on his ruffled bed hair instead of his sassy nose.

His trademark leather jacket was missing, in its pace was the the purple and blue blanket he had made himself. The product of hours of crocheting was curled around his shoulders. He pulled an additional store-bought blanket over his legs (the universe, dark blue cave blanket!) and bundled himself up like a little burrito. Hey, he was tasty and deserved to give himself a treat and look like one.

If he had the sense to order food, he would order the greasiest shit ever but he did not want any kind of social interactions when he felt and looked like absolutely pale and tired trash.

“Time to be a fucking bitch~”, he hummed to himself, a slight sing-song rhythm to his pronunciation of the words.

He switched to the episode of his choice per remote and wiggled his eyebrows at the great drama show he had selected. Drama was perfect for comfort. Feeling less shitty about himself by looking at more miserable people was his primary coping mechanism. Still sleepy, he leaned over to the table where he had put a few snacks on, knowing his kitty wouldn’t stoop so low and interfere with his mortal food. The Queen was too extra for this. Also, he had little drawers in the table that stored his secret stash of snacks. He knew his migraine attacks and lock of motivation to get food. He was prepared.

The TV started blaring and he flinched at the painfully loud sensation while he put his hands around a bowl as if to scoop it up like the fragile piece of porcelain it was. He was about to pick it up and let it rest in his lap when a big fat blackness appeared in his peripheral vision, distracting him from his deed. His fingers were on the remote, muting the show but he dropped it when the colour surprised him.

A lightning-fast crawly crawl surfaced from under his couch and ran below his table.

“WAHHHHH!!!!”

The naked spider elicited a loud scream from his throat, making his booming head groan and press even harder down on his brain. It felt as if he was about to explode and it did not feel comfortable. Although the pain was tiring, he was screeching and jumping away - as far away from the spider as possible. His best friend, fear, was freezing his pain response just for long enough for him to move to another place without passing out from dizzy spells. Adrenaline washed his pain sensitivity away while the sudden shock just overrode it.

In some kind of gross fascination, he watched the spider approach a table leg with rapid speed. Absolute disgust shook him as the creature got closer and closer to his table. There was his food!

“No, don’t touch my food, I’m too sick for this shit, I swear to fucking god. I will burn you down to death, you dummy. My fooooood-”

He moved to get up, held back by his blanket burrito-ing him! Unexpectedly, another blurry blob of charcoal burst into his vision and threw itself onto the intruder.

Virgil!

They jumped onto the spider, gargantuan paws falling onto the little crawler like a guillotine’s heavy blade. These warm, loving, furry and fluffy cuddle hands were suddenly tainted with the death shrieks of a spider that nobody could hear. It moved, struggled and trembled as Virgil leaped their tongue over the creature and bit into the spot.

The paws Remy knew to be promising and friendly were nothing like their usual nature anymore.

They were claws of vengeance.

“Wh- what the fuck-”

The endless black hole that was the void was too big for Remy to see any more than this. Virgil was blocking his view on the little victim while they seemed to soundlessly cough out the little spider legs. Remy knew the cat was eating but the sudden, rigid movements reminded him of a slow and heavy slaughter.

“Virgil..-”

Amidst the brutality, Virgil finished up and purred. The cat looked at him, licking their muzzle and opening their mouth as if to yawn.

The owner blinked. Virgil blinked.

The Killer Queen jumped onto the couch, just by his feet and slowly started liking their paws.

“Aw, little riot.. did you protect me? You are some fucking savage of a dark and stormy knight, are you not?”

The cat looked at him, blinking before resuming to lick their paws clean. They barely acknowledged the touched bitch on the side of the couch. No, they were busy. This was a serious Queen.

They sat up comfortably, their tail wrapped around their paws which dug into the couch’s softness. It looked like a black whip, ready to strike rather than the furry extension of a kitty it used to be to Remy before this incident.

A weird feeling rumbled in his chest and he forgot the sickness and ache torturing him as he gently reached out for the little beast.

“Hey, hey. Cuddle with me, little monster.”

He giggled.

Something within him could not unsee Virgil ripping apart a little, struggling spider while genuinely enjoying the taste of dying prey on their tongue. Another part of him felt warm and safe with that ferocious little void on his lap. They licked over Remy’s finger before curling up and further licking their paws clean.

His show was running in the background, still muted. However, he barely heard footsteps approach his living-room.

If only he had been prepared for what was to come next. No drama show was capable of balancing out the blow that was coming for him, personally.

“Good morning - Hey, Remy, can I take a shower?”

Before him, a half-naked Emile was smiling tiredly at him. Face slightly pale, drained of blood and energy, Remy could smell their hangover with accurate horror.

Why was his boss in his living-room?

Oh, fuck-

“Meow!”

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peace-coast-island · 4 years

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Diary of a Junebug

Sandwiches and charming little huts

Walking the trails of Charm Villa is like stepping into a bright, colorful, and cute notepad. Rolling hills with vibrant green grass and colorful flowers scattered all over. On the tops of the hills are rustic and whimsical little cottages and huts, as well as shops, cafes, and a library. Take a picture and you’d think it was from a stationery set!

After sleeping in until around eleven we met up with Gutsy and Livvy at Coffee Studios for a tour of Charm Villa. Gutsy’s a college friend of Daisy Jane who just moved to the village a few months ago. Livvy’s her niece - first cousin once removed - and she and Jack - her dad/Gutsy’s cousin - own Coffee Studios. The cafe was founded by Gutsy and Jack’s grandma, then it was passed down to Jack’s mom, and after she retired her son and granddaughter now run the place.

The cafe’s best known for their sandwiches and every few months they set up a contest for a new sandwich to add to the menu. Livvy was the one who started that tradition and it got popular so it stuck. Guess what today happened to be? While Lolly, Pancetti, Biskit, and Lyman prepped for the contest, the rest of us hung around the village before meeting back around 3 for the contest.

I’ve only met Gutsy a handful of times over the years and she always leaves an impression. The name Gutsy - short for Augusta - fits her to a T. She said that she never thought her impulsiveness and wild imagination would make her a good detective and yet there she was solving crimes and saving the day. Gutsy really does remind me a lot about Jamie, except a lot more extroverted and bold. Honestly, I’m surprised that they haven’t crossed paths yet.

So far Gutsy’s enjoying the peaceful village life. It’s a huge change of pace compared to her old life. Gutsy grew up in a boarding house that also ran a stable so her life revolved around horses since forever. Her father died when she was seventeen, opening up a can of worms that led to her getting tangled up with an embezzling scheme that he was involved in and indirectly caused his death. After exposing the crime, Gutsy joined a task force dedicated to investigating crimes relating to shady underground practices involving horses like racing and such.

Daisy Jane and Gutsy met in college when they became roommates. At the time Gutsy was considering studying to be a veterinarian but ended up dropping out a year later because the task force was starting to take over her life. In retrospect, the whole being a vet thing wasn’t meant to be for her.

Being a detective was an unexpected turn for Gutsy, one that no one saw coming - and yet, at the time, it made sense. For a while, she felt that she found her calling, especially after being betrayed by what her dad and his friends had done. Maybe, in a way, she was trying to absolve him of his misdeeds. Solving mysteries and working with horses, what else can she ask for?

But then around last year things went sour. Investigating crimes has its dangers, which Gutsy knows all too well. She can handle being a target, but when loved ones are in the line of fire, that’s where she draws the line. The birth of her daughter Lulu led to Gutsy reevaluating her life choices. Eventually she decided that it was time to move on and give Lulu a stable childhood.

That’s why she decided to settle in Charm Villa. Other than her cousins and a small handful of relatives, Gutsy doesn’t have much family. With Lulu to take care of, a journey of self discovery was out of the question so she opted to stick close to family for practical reasons. With Livvy in college and only coming home every other weekend and Jack having experience as a young single parent as well as needing help with the cafe, Gutsy knew she and Lulu would be in good hands.

While she finds herself much happier and less stressed in Charm Villa, Gutsy does miss being around horses. As far as she knows, the nearest stable is about two hours away so she hasn’t had a chance to visit yet. Maybe when Lulu’s a little older, she says. For now, Gutsy and horses are taking a long break.

The way she describes it is like a close relationship that has gone a bit too codependent. All her life she grew up surrounded by horses so she related to them more than people. Her views on the family she grew up with, especially her dad, have been clouded in recent years. When she put together the pieces, she didn’t want to believe it, but at the same time, it all made sense. While being a detective gave her a sense of purpose, it also showed Gutsy how deceiving people can be. She always - and still - find horses more trusting than people, so in a way she relied on them as a crutch. Do it for the horses - that was her mantra whenever she tackled a case that would push her limits. Then that led to her letting the task force take over her life to the point that she had nothing outside of that.

Eventually it got to the point where all she cared about was getting the truth out. Right and wrong, black and white, collateral damage was unfortunate but it didn’t matter as long as what’s done is done. As a result, Gutsy ended up burning a lot of bridges, which in turn made her question if she did more harm than good.

Lulu was her wake up call, the one who turned Gutsy’s life upside down and forced her to reevaluate her future. Being a parent wasn’t in the cards for her but in the end she made her choice. While the idea of raising a kid is still terrifying for her, so far it seems to be the best thing to happen to her. After spending most of her life jumping headfirst into danger and chasing thrills, Gusty realized the weight of her actions and how one can’t always jump to conclusions or make poor judgements just to get ahead of everyone else.

Maybe it’s another attempt to right her dad’s wrongs - that’s still something she struggles with - but Charm Villa, the cafe, Lulu, her cousins, it’s been doing her a lot of good. There’s still a lot that Gutsy’s uncertain about, but getting herself out of a bad place is a good first step. After everything she’s been through, I hope she finds that peace of mind she deserves. From the looks of it, I think she’s finding her way.

Around 1:30 we headed back to the cafe to help set up for the sandwich contest. When we were done, we had time to kill so Jack and Livvy gave us a tour of the kitchen. Then we made lattes and bread, which was a lot of fun. By the time we were able to master latte art, it was time for the contest to begin!

Candy Fruit Sando by Lolly A super sweet take on the cute Japanese fruit sandwiches! To kick things up a notch, the fruits are coated with a sugary syrup for an extra crunch! Fresh ripe fruit candied to perfection, freshly whipped cream that feels like eating a cloud and a soft and pillowy brioche to tie it all together - it’s the perfect addition to any bento box! Rod - Candied fruit?! Genius! 9/10 Snooty - I just wanna take pictures of it and make my friends jealous over how pretty it looks! 10/10 Sylvana - Strawberries and cream are a winning combo! 8/10 Audie - Aesthetic and yummy - that’s a win for me! 9/10

Spa Day Sandwich by Pancetti In need of shaking up your skin care routine? No need to swap out your face mask or moisturizer when you can have a sandwich instead! All the freshest veggies guaranteed to give you a healthy glow like cucumbers and seaweed seasoned with a zesty citrus glaze on a slice of lightly toasted pumpernickel. Snooty - My skin’s already feeling great! 7/10 Sylvana - This kinda reminds me of a salad, but in sandwich form! 6/10 Audie - This was definitely inspired by a spa! 6/10 Rod - Skip the moisturizer, go for the sandwich! 7/10

The Ultimate Dessert Sandwich! by Biskit What happens when you mash a pie, cake, and pudding into one? Well, we’re about to find out with this sandwich! The bread’s kinda like a pie crust/brioche hybrid and the sauce is a rich caramel custard. In between are thin slices of red velvet cake, blueberry-ginger pie filling, and slices of yellow cake. Sylvana - If this doesn’t satisfy your sweet tooth, I don’t know what will! 8/10 Audie - Talk about indulgent! 6/10 Rod - Perfect for a cheat day after an intense workout - but only in moderation! 7/10 Snooty - Are you sure this is a sandwich? 5/10

Take a Bite of Nature! by Lyman Need a palate cleanser after having too many sweets or processed foods? Nothing like fresh organic veggies to put your body back in balance! Green, leafy veggies, rustic roots, and crisp, sweet fruit on sprouted bread - all the flavors of nature in one tasty package! Audie - Crunch, crunch, crunch! 7/10 Rod - I wonder if this will make a good post-workout shake… 7/10 Snooty - Turn the bread into croutons and add some dressing and it’s a rustic salad! 8/10 Sylvana - This is probably better than some of the stuff they sell at health food stores 7/10

#animal crossing #animal crossing pocket camp #Diary of a Junebug #headcanon ramble

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bowtomypointlesswords · 5 years

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Have you ever had an exact... image for your story? Because I have a distinctive aesthetic for one of mine...

The Magnolia Plot. I haven't spoken on it much, really only put up a couple of character mood boards, but... I've been thinking on it lately.

It's a story with several things: An Oceans 11 style/film noir plot, a dieselpunk world, a PI main character, and a very specific mix of aesthetics.

First: Wes Andersen. If you don't know who he is, Wes Andersen is a movie director. He directed such movies as: Isle of Dogs, Fantastic Mr. Fox, Moonrise Kingdom, and The Grand Budapest Hotel to name a few. His style is bright, bold use of color that speaks to each scene, each character and their emotions at any given time. His use of color is... brilliant.

Second: In a similar vein, Pushing Up Daisies. This was a fantastic, cancelled utterly too soon show about a man who could bring people back from the dead but only for a minute. He was a pie maker and helped a private eye and accidentally brought his childhood crush back to life after she died. It's a great big beautiful show about love and loss and was absolutely morbidly funny and it had the same aesthetic beauty of Wes Andersen films. Seriously just look up any screenshot from it and you'll be blow away by just how gorgeous it was. On top of that the story had this fantastic naration to it that reminded me of #3

3: The Series of Unfortunate Events. Both the old movie and the Netflix adaptation had the same gorgeous visuals and aesthetic to them. Like the above they played with color. Morbid humor was also a selling point, but the big part of why The Series of Unfortunate Events was and is so popular was the narration of Lemony Snicket. In the same vein of Douglass Adams the story had a wit and clever use of words, pacing, and liberal use of messing with perceptions. An internal logic of chaos that somehow, in the context of the stories, was perfectly acceptable.

4: Holes. Holes. Oh my god the book and the movie were just amazing. Are you recognizing the trend in theme and aesthetic here? A mix of humor to tackle difficult subjects, the whole Kisssin Kate subplot... Just. I can't sing praised for Holes enough. It was a clever, well written book and the best damn book to movie adaptation I've seen. Holes too had some of the same aesthetic choices in it. Despite taking place in the desert, with the kids all wearing orange jumpsuits, there's still a distinct aesthetic choice made in the movie... similar to the above actually. All color is made to stand out. Kissin Kate's lipstick comes to mind. Madame Zironi's purple tones. It's hard to truly explain how the color works so specifically... muted in some places but bright so specific colors stand out even more. It's an aesthetic I adore greatly in case this list hasn't been enough proof of that.

5: Studio Ghibli. Just. Studio Ghibli man. The color, the softness of everything, the gentle sway of blades of grass... just that whole aesthetic is kinda part of the above too, just less pastel and soft... Studio Ghibli movies are soft, beautiful masterworks, who somehow feel like home and adventure all at the same time.

6: Fallout. Fallout has a very nicr 50s aesthetic mixed again with morbid humor and a sense of impending doom. I love the aesthetics of the 50s, the flow of the designs, again the color. The idea of 50s futurism. Of course Fallout is completely post apocalyptic, and The Magnolia Plot is only kinda post apocalyptic, but the aesthetics still fit. Especially with the Film Noir story telling I'm aiming for.

I have no idea how to achieve this for The Magnolia Plot... It's so absurdly specific and yet hard to pin down exactly. I don't even really have a full plot I just have the Aesthetic of it. How the story feels, how I want it to feel... bright, bold, colorful, but holding that morbidity, the dark humor and the strange narrator... I don't know it I just know the story knows it's aesthetic fully. From the moment the MC stepped into my brain she was fully formed and knew exactly who she was, what her look was. I don't know her story, hell I still don't really, but it just struck me how utterly specific it's been in narrowing down the whole image.

I know how the story feels, but the plot... eh, that'll come later. Right now, I'm busy studying the masters of the style I'm hoping to follow.

#wip: the magnolia plot #I only get the Aesthetics TM #plot? what's that?#some please let me ramble to them for the next four forevers about Wes Andersen's style.#I love it so much. so pretty. so much color.#it's 2 am why am I awake rambling about this?

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theclaravoyant · 6 years

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skitz and trimmons for the ships thing?

interesting ship choices, thanks!

1. Who kills the spider?

SK: Daisy’s more willing to touch them, but they’re both big believers in taking them outside. Only the super duper poisonous ones have gotta die in which case it’s a lot of bug spray and screaming.

T/S: Again, nobody kills them. In fact, Jemma often takes them to study if they’re interesting, and sometimes she’ll come home to find that Trip has put a jar over one or something for her to inspect. He prefers that they live and be well far away from him though. They can do them just like. not fall on him in the shower or something.

2. Who reads while the other snuggles up to them?

SK: I really like what @florchis said on this one, Fitz does a lot of reading and Daisy loves a chance to cuddle up while he’s doing it. I also really like the idea of him reading to her or them reading to each other, especially when one or the other is feeling especially stressed out.

T/S: Trip. Jemma’s life is very academic, and when she’s not doing study she’s got reports and admin and not to mention leisure reading; she’s very geared toward it, while Trip prefers to spend his time either in more active pursuits or spending some relaxing time with his girl. Sometimes they chat about what’s in the papers, but more often than not it’s just a good way to be together after a long day. Jemma is also remarkably good at reading amidst distractions, so sometimes Trip can be watching something Jemma’s not particularly interested in and they still get to hold each other which is nice :)

3. Who likes to eat with a fork more than a spoon?

SK: Daisy. It might take longer but you can eat a lot of things with a fork, even icecream, or so she insists. Fitz likes to keep his hands free for typing etc so he tends to go with utensil-less food altogether (and a LOT of snacking) but when he uses cutlery he just goes with whatever the food at hand requires. (which, as far as Daisy’s concerned, can just about always be a fork if needs be).

T/S: similar to my FitzHunter and TripDaisy answers, I see Trip as a spoon man, probably because of the military-canteen-kit vibe. Besides, Jemma tends toward stuff like salad anyway where a fork is probably best.

4. Who laughs at funny words?

SK: again @florchis‘s answer on this is gold XD

T/S: neither of them really, they’re both quite mature (and/or they both pretend to be) but Trip will have a laugh at something when he wants to break the ice, and Jemma will laugh at basically anything when she’s trying to be flirty XD

5. In high school what would their stereotype(s) be? Examples - nerd, jock, band geek etc.

SK: Fitz - nerd, the geeky bullied insecure kind. Daisy - loner new girl who pretends she doesn’t want friends but actually does

T/S: Jemma - that chick who has her life together, she’s smart and popular and varsity something and running the homecoming dance and and and - Trip - jock who is so nice you kinda suspect he’s an asshole but turns out he’s actually genuinely nice

6. What type of parents would they be?

SK: loving, doting, spoiling ones who both hate being the bad guy, but they’d knuckle down for what’s really important. their house would be a mess and probably not even that well-off but there’d be a lot of love in that house. and adopted children, getting the lives they deserve

T/S: Jemma as a mum reminds me of Bones. Very protective, but forthright (maybe a little too forthright), and secretly terrified that she’s going to be / is a terrible mother. Fortunately Trip is there to diffuse situations and remind her when she’s expecting too much of their kid(s) or of herself.

7. What is their favourite show to watch together?

SK: they have quite similar taste in movies I think. like a lot of mystery, thriller or horror type stuff when they’re in the mood for it (but nothing too ‘real’). they also have a soft spot for the harry potters, a mutual preference for the lord of the rings movies over the books (which Jemma finds disgraceful), and love of star wars which they also share with Bobbi. plus they have similar taste in trashy movies too

T/S: they don’t tend to watch a lot together tbh, neither of them watch much TV anyway and their tastes are quite divergent, but when they do watch something together it’s probably a nature documentary or maybe a history one.

8. Do they like the food network channel?

SK: again I really like @florchis‘s answer on this. I also like the idea that they would love cracking jokes with each other about the random, specific variety of things that these people seem to believe everyone just has lying around their house, including the old “if you can’t make your own neurotransmitters, store bought is fine”

T/S: sure! even without the channel though, Trip loves to cook as part of a balanced day / everyday stress relief. Jemma knows that she’s way too stressed and though it takes some convincing, Trip pursuades her to join him in trying some of the recipes and such. It means they get to spend time together, and eat healthier and more interesting meals than they otherwise would as well as destressing, so it’s a big win!!

9. Who likes to walk their dogs while the other lets the dogs walk them?

SK: They’re both pretty sappy disasters, but I think they’d put a priority on taking time together with the dog(s) and/or playing with them moreso than a routine walk. I love @florchis‘s idea of them adopting an older one, too :’)

T/S: Hmm, if they were to get a dog (or dogs) it’d be the kind they could take out on a run, at least once a day between the two of them. They have busy schedules and don’t have much time for gambolling aimlessly, but if they’re going to the park, beach, etc for other reasons they could bring the dog(s) along

10. Who is the more relaxed one?

SK: Daisy and Fitz share a tendency to feel very deeply, including things like stress, guilt and the like, but in all honesty I think Daisy has more/better tools in her arsenal for dealing with them. While she tends to spot stress early, and usually intervene somehow, Fitz tends to spiral, by stressing about how stressed he is etc, and it can be difficult to unwind.

T/S: Trip, without a doubt. Is this even a question???

11. Who likes to be out in nature more?

SK: Fitz likes the existence of nature and the symbolism of it, but on the other hand, sand and bugs and gross stuff, ew. Meanwhile, Daisy has always needed to separate herself from the crowd and get a bit of privacy. Plus, since getting her powers, she has this really special connection to the natural world that I think she loves to go out and just feel sometimes.

T/S: They both quite like it for its therapeutic effects etc, and hiking together is one of their favourite things when they get a weekend to themselves, but I think Jemma is much more wondrous about it all - after all, that’s what drove her to science in the first place. It’s not that Trip doesn’t mean it when he says “that’s a nice waterfall” or whatever, it’s just that Jemma means it MORE. *O*

12. Who initiates cuddling sessions?

SK: This is so hard!! They’re both so cuddly!! I guess it depends on who needs it more. Plus, Fitz is more shy so at least early in their relationship Daisy would be more keen to push boundaries and encourage this kind of thing - as it goes on and they become more accustomed to each other it evens out.

T/S: Trip - Jemma is not a very outward-geared emotional person, especially when it comes to the vulnerabilities of love. Plus, she is quite task orientated, with her mind always tending to seek the next problem to solve. So Trip is usually one to initiate, whether he wants to show some love, get some attention, or remind Jemma to chill out.

13. Who is always running late and always gives the other a running late quick kiss?

SK: again shamelessly stealing from @florchis, queen of skitz -

They are both kind of messy and don’t deal well with normal schedules; in fact, the problem usually is not that one of them is late, but that their schedules… don’t align. Sometimes when Fitz is going to bed because he finally reached a point on his project where he can make a pause without everything going to waste, Daisy is waking up for his morning training, and all they have is a glass of water that exchanges hands and a kiss that is too sleepy from both sides.

T/S: Jemma - but in her defense she’s not actually running late, she just always thinks she is (or pretends she is, so that she’ll definitely be on time).

14. Who bakes the other a cake and puts a playful insult on it?

SK: Daisy has a great cake-in-a-cup recipe but she probably wouldn’t accompany it with an insult, even a fond one, as the time they get to indulge in these sorts of things is usually when at least one of them is going through something. You don’t taint the comfort food!

T/S: they both do, and it’s become a bit of a running gag between them. they’re both high achievers and get recognised a lot, but Trip can be humble (sometimes too humble) and Jemma can be proud (sometimes too proud). So Jemma’s cake will praise Trip along the lines of “doing something kinda good, I guess” (to highlight what he did was actually really amazing and to stop being so humble about it) whereas Trip will gift Jemma something where the whole cake is like, this long elaborate title extolling her virtues (but playful, of course, like, “no but seriously, congratulations”)

15. Who would wrap the other in a blanket when the other one has a bad day?

SK: ALL THE BLANKETS. They both have a tendency to feel very deeply but they’re also both highly empathetic. It’s really hard for them to watch each other suffer because they also feel it on such a level, but being miserable for a while and cuddles and comfort and feeling the pain is the best way through it for both of them in the end, and they both know it. Daisy also has her chocolate cake recipe, and Fitz makes some of the best hot chocolate in the world, so there’s comfort food for whoever needs it too XD

T/S: Trip. Jemma’s not very attentive to her own needs and on a bad day will typically blame herself so Trip has to be there to talk her down. Jemma on the other hand, her first response will be to try and solve the ‘problem’ or figure out what made the day bad. It takes her a while to adjust to the fact that sometimes Trip needs the “blanket” form of comfort that’s more about helping with the emotional aftermath than trying to fight off problems in the first place.

send me a ship (doesn’t have to be from AOS although I love them ofc)

#ask me stuff #shipping #skitz #fitzdaisy #trip x simmons #tripsimmons #trimmons #ask meme #aos headcanons #Anonymous

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caeslxys · 7 years

Text

Almost Promises

Series: RWBY

Characters: Blake Belladonna, Ilia Amitola, Sun Wukong

Relationships: Catmeleon, Blacksun (more so very obviously suggested for both and less so in your face make out sessions though)

Genre: Hurt/Comfort mostly

Word Count: 2343

Summary: I felt angsty and who better to make angsty than Blake?

A/N: Ya’ll I’m tired tf lol I meant to post this like. the same week the Blake trailer premiered oopsy daisy

“So, you do have a mission tomorrow?“

Blake curses, “Hello, Ilia.“

Ilia just smiles and leans back against the wall behind her, "What happened to being mission free for a while?” It’s not serious, Blake knows, but the weight settles on her shoulders all the same.

She sways in place nervously, “It’s just a recon mission. Something to do with supplies on a train, Adam hasn’t told me the details yet."

Something in Ilia’s eyes flash when she mentions Adam, but her gaze soon softens and she slides down the wall to sit against it. She pats the space beside her, an invitation. Blake makes her way over slowly.

When she does get there and leans back against the wall, silence stretches before the two. It isn’t uncomfortable, nor unwelcome, but Blake shifts nonetheless, "Ilia, I’m sorry–”

“We’re surrounded by liars,” She says softly, “So I’m not mad that you lied to me, we’re used to that."

Ilia’s hand reaches up to intertwine her fingers with Blake’s, calm and reassuring, "I just want you to know that you don’t have to. Lie, I mean,” her eyes flash, gray to pink to red and then pink again, “To me, if no one else."

Blake let’s out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, "Ilia,” Blake starts and stops and starts again. She’s always envied authors and their ease with words. Their ease with emotions, all of these things that are just so far out of her depth. Maybe there’s a part of her that’s envious of Ilia, of the way she can so casually and confidently trust her when Blake doesn’t think she can trust herself sometimes.

She licks her lips and starts again, “Thank you, Ilia."

Ilia smiles, "Of course, you’re my best friend, Blake.” She brings her hand back, looks to her fingers, interlocks them at her knees, “I’d do almost anything for you."

Blake smiles and raises a brow, "Almost?” She says, sarcasm draped like lace over every word. Ilia chuckles, “Well, I probably wouldn’t, like, permanently stay the color yellow if you asked me to. Too annoying of a color."

They smile at each other as Blake bumps her back into the wall she is leaning against and slides down to sit next to Ilia. "Hmm…what about blue?” Blake asks, voice quieter with their newfound proximity. Ilia hums and tilts her head upwards, “Maybe, but only for a day, and only because blue is a really good color."

"Green?"

"That’d be convenient in the wilderness of Menagerie, but otherwise i can’t find it fun being green, so no."

"Red?"

Ilia laughs, "That would remind me a bit too much of Adam, and I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life."

Blake’s breath catches, "Right.” She says softly, “Right, so, um, orange?"

Ilia remains silent for a moment, fingers fiddling and feet shifting, "Hey, Blake?” She asks, and it’s quiet and cautious. Blake frowns, “Yes?"

Ilia opens her mouth to speak, stutters, and closes it. She looks to Blake and they get lost for a second, in each other, in this closeness and stillness, and then,

"Did he hurt you?”

Blake shifts, “Ilia-”

“Blake, did he hurt you?"

You don’t have to lie to me, she had said. But lying is so much easier, it’s easier for her and it’s certainly easier for Ilia, even if she herself doesn’t think it is.

Blake scowls, "Ilia, really, it’s–”

“Don’t say it’s nothing! Don’t say it’s none of my business!” Ilia’s voice shatters their silence, voice like broken glass, “Blake, I love you, so don’t say this isn’t any of my business."

"I know you love me, Ilia,” She says, but ilia doesn’t think she does, “And thats why everything is fine."

"Blake…” Ilia whispers, “nothing…nothing has to be okay just because somebody loves you."

Blake shivers and crosses her arms over her knees, leaning forward to rest her chin on her forearms, "I know that."

"No, I don’t think you do.” Ilia says, it’s a little forceful, a little too familiar for Blake’s taste. “Just because I love you doesn’t make what he does to you okay–just because he says he loves you doesn’t make what he does okay."

"I never said he–”

“Me loving you is just supposed to make things easier, Blake. I’m supposed to help you because I love you."

Ilia breathes in, out, "And you’re supposed to let me, if you love me."

Blake buries her head in her arms and exhales, breath trembling, "What if I’m not telling you because I love you?” She whispers, “What if this will keep you safer? What if you’re more important than anything he does to me?"

What if I love you, Blake thinks, and it is heartbreaking and cold.

Ilia feels her heart drop, her stomach churn. There is a pain in her chest, striking and powerful and familiar, so familiar, but it isn’t a pain she has ever associated with Blake.

It isn’t a pain she is going to start associating with her. She wraps an arm around Blake’s shoulders, leans her head on her shoulder and squeezes so tightly she has to ponder whether or not they’ll be connected there forever. Blake leans toward her slightly, "I don’t mean to keep things from you, I don’t mean to hurt you.” She says.

“But it seems to be one of the few things I’m good at."

Ilia shakes her head against Blake’s shoulder and she brings her other arm to circle around Blake’s knees and latch onto her opposite hand, completely embracing her. Adamantly, unapologetically, she holds her. She holds her as if she is rare. She holds her as if she is invaluable and fragile.

"No…” Ilia whispers and kisses Blake’s bicep where she can reach, “Blake, no. You didn’t hurt me, you couldn’t if you wanted to. I’m just worried about you."

Blake sniffs, "Knock on wood, Ilia."

She chuckles softly and this time places kiss on Blake’s shoulder, "You couldn’t hurt me, Blake, I promise."

Blake shakes her head, but slowly turns to Ilia. Ilia smiles and gently, so gently, moves her hand to brush Blake’s hair out of her face, "Almost anything, huh?” Blake whispers against Ilia’s palm. Ilia brushes her thumb under her eye and moves her other hand from wrapping around Blake’s shoulders to cupping her other cheek, “Almost anything.” She promises.

Blake brings one of her hands up to hold Ilia’s against her cheek, and kisses her wrist, a promise of her own,

“Purple?"

Ilia laughs gently and holds Blake’s hand in turn, bringing it softly to her lips and interlocking their fingers over Blake’s knee,

"Yeah, but only because you and purple go together so well.” – “Blake?"

Blake hums, caught between a memory and reality. Sometimes she wishes she could live through memories alone, through that soft edged, filtered haze. Sun clears his throat, "Is there–did she really just get away, Blake?"

Blake halts, "Does it matter?” She whispers, “She’s gone. Regardless of the circumstances, she’s gone."

Sun scuffs his shoes on the floor and throws his hands in his pockets. Truly, this girl could not be more stubborn. "It matters,” He says, and struts to stand beside her, “More to you than me, but I can tell that it matters."

Blake hums, her ears flicking back and forth. She looks to the side, away from Sun, away from the boy who is oh so like that girl who’d do almost anything for her.

"Blake…"

She flinches at the gentle pressure of his hand on her shoulder. Calm and reassuring. Calm and reassuring. Oh so familiar.

"You know you can tell me anything, Blake. You can tell me the truth."

You don’t have to lie to me.

Blake’s breath trembles between her lips as she exhales, "I know…” She’s hesitant, cautious, “I know that, Sun."

Sun tilts his head in that endearing way he has about him, and squeezes her shoulder lightly, "So, are you gonna talk about it?” His hand falls from her shoulder and immediately is brought up to join it’s twin in a sign of surrender, “I mean, I’m not trying to push you! Or pry or anything like that! Talk whenever you feel like–or don’t. If you don’t want to. Just uh…"

He’s rambling again, like he always ends up doing around her. He’s never sure where it stems from, whether it’s nervousness or excitement. Perhaps it’s fear, maybe she won’t talk to him, maybe she doesn’t want to. Maybe. "Yeah. I’m here, is all."

Blake wants to tell him everything.

Dear God, she wants to tear her walls down brick by brick and lay them at his feet, she wants him. It’s a debilitating, aching, mind-numbingly terrifying kind of want. The kind that makes her heart pound like a caged bird in her chest, the kind that makes her fingers and toes tingle, the kind that makes her so aware of her own breathing. It feels like her truth wants to split her at the seems and puddle at his ankles.

She brings her shaking fingertips to rest against her temple, exhaling, "Sun, it’s…hard to explain."

Sun shrugs, "I’ve got all the time in the world,” He winks, “for you."

Something in Blake curls inward and hides at his words, something cowardly and small. Almost, she thinks, "She’s a…” A wrecking ball. An adventure. A soft presence in a hard reality. “…friend. She used to be my best friend."

Sun tilts his head and stuffs his hands in his pockets, "Really?"

Blake nods.

"So, she probably didn’t just get away then, huh?"

Blake makes a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a sob, "She’s been…refusing to hurt me.” She stops and shudders, “It’s torture."

Sun crouches beside her and sits with his back to the wall near them, "Torture? That she won’t hurt you?” Sun scratches his head and huffs, “That sounds kinda backwards."

He pats the area next to him invitingly, and she takes the opportunity to slide down the wall next to him, "Maybe it is,” She sighs and clasps her hands over her knees, “Maybe we are."

"What do you mean?” He asks, voice soft. He’s always so soft with her, soft hands and smiles and hearts. She’s too jagged, too rough, too sharp for him. Her fingers are turning white they’re clutching so hard, “I think I loved her, Sun."

She sees Sun’s face fall and then his hand is over her own. There’s this hurt expression on his face that makes her choke on her next words, her fingers tightening evermore, "I’m sorry.” He says, but she’s not sure what for.

His gaze falls from her eyes to their hands and he squeezes, gently, so gently. Like she’d break, like she was precious, “Did you- did she love you too?"

Blake nods numbly, her voice trembling as it spills from between her lips, "Yes. I think she did.” She looks to Sun, taking in his sunlight woven hair and soft eyes and gentle hands. She can’t understand why he’s always been so gentle with her, handling her with all the care he could possibly muster.

She knows she doesn’t deserve it.

She has been nothing but a source of pain for everyone she has ever loved. She knows she’ll be that for him, too.

She is an inevitability.

“You know, Blake…” Sun starts, voice hesitant, “you don’t have to act like everything is okay around me,” He squeezes her fingers between his own, “You know that right?"

And why is everything so damn familiar today, Blake thinks. It’s familiar in the gentle touches and soft promises and loving, loving eyes. She hates that she’s so good at ruining the best people.

"Of course I know that,” She says, because she does, “I just…I don’t think I…” The words are on the tip of her tongue but clenched teeth cage them in, fueled by fear. It takes everything in her, all the strength she can muster, but she forces her jaws open and let’s the words spill out, “I don’t think I know how to rely on others anymore, Sun."

"Blake–”

“Everyone I have ever, ever cared for has been hunted down and–” and taken, and abandoned, and flown straight into their own destruction to save her but it’s never worth it she’s never worth that–“hurt. And I can’t take it anymore, Sun.” “And I know it’s your decision. I know you protect me because you want to. But I’m so tired, Sun."

She feels like her soul is quivering, shaken to the core by her own emotions and the overwhelming fear she has of them, "And I don’t think I can rest anymore."

He watches Blake break in front of him, sees her for all of her jagged edges, and decides right then he’d take on the entire white fang by himself if it meant he never had to see this again. If he never had to see her so hurt and fragile and heartbroken.

Sun’s hand moves from her knee to her opposite shoulder and tugs her in, her head coming to lean on his chest in a half-embrace. He leans his head on her and reaches his other hand to rest on her hand again. He coughs lightly, clearing his throat,

"Well, I may not be the comfiest, but you can rest here, right?"

And Blake isn’t used to this kind of intimacy, this closeness, but she relaxes into his shoulder anyway, "Thank you, Sun.” She says, though she’s sure she’ll never be able to say it enough.

Sun smiles, “Of course,” He says, and relaxes against her as well, “You know I’d do anything for you."

Blake freezes, mind stuck. Almost, it screams at her.

And for once, she takes his hand.

"Anything, huh?”

“Well, maybe not, like, murder Neptune–scratch that maybe I’ll do that–”

“Oh? What if I just asked you to rob Neptune?”

“Pfft–as if he has anything worth stealing.”

#Blake Belladonna #Ilia Amitola #Sun Wukong #catmeleon #Blacksun #Solar Eclipse #Ilia x Blake #I still? dont really know blake and ilia's ship name but oh well #writing stuffs #This????? was nothing like i wanted it to be but I got sick of it sitting in my files so i did apatch work finish really quickly #but?? good enough #also i hate doing that like introductory format at the top but like. I've seen it be done and so i'm like until I really stop giving a shit #I will go through the trouble #until I give no more shits #I'm honestly disappointed in this psldkcc #mywriting

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imaginetonyandbucky · 7 years

Note

Prompts are open omgg! My prompt is: Tony acts like a playboy and a tough guy, but in reality, he is a sucker for everything emotional, romantic and affectionate. He lives for it. You can win his heart this way. Bucky loves it, loves doing all the romantic things for Tony and loves the expression on Tony's face whenever he does.

50 Ways to Woo Your Lover

“What the hell, Stevie,” Bucky whined to hisbest friend. “How the fuck am I supposed to impress a fucking geniusbillionaire?”

Steve, No Help At All, Charter Member, had thefucking gall to laugh at him. “You don’t,” Steve said. He didn’t quite finishthat up with Why would you even want to, but Bucky could see it dancingon the tip of his tongue.

Good thing for Steve they were already sparring,which meant that Bucky had gloves on and Steve was wearing protective headgear.Both things were actually pointless, if Bucky wanted to do damage. Bucky calmlyanalyzed the situation, found a good three dozen openings that Steve gave himin the first five minutes alone, and took exactly none of them. Right up untilthe very end, when he lightly tapped Steve in the nose with his elbow. (Okay,so the Winter Soldier version of lightly gave Steve a bloody nose and a splitlip, but hey, Bucky wasn’t above cheating. Never had been.)

“Look,” Steve said. He wasn’t even mad, he justhad his head tilted back and an ice pack over the bridge of his nose, eventhough everyone had already told him that didn’t help. “You think I know whatto do to win the girl. I’ve talked to like two in my entire life.”

“Tony’s not a girl,” Bucky growled. He was quiteaware of how very male Tony was. He couldn’t help but trace the lines of theman’s body with his eyes, couldn’t help leaning in a little closer to catch awhiff of that masculine scent, sweat and cologne and a tang of metal and fire.

“Probably even less help there, pal,” Stevesaid. “I dunno, you were always a hit with the dames back in the day. Howdifferent can it be?”

Clint snorted, the next time he’d passed Buckyin the hall and tossed a women’s magazine at him. Ways to win the heart ofyour lover, teased from the cover. Bucky didn’t even ask how Clint knew.There was no percentage in that play.

#1 - Write a poem

Tony spent most of his time in his workshop,surrounded by iron and steel, by fire and wire, by electric and circuits. Withrare exceptions, no one else was allowed in, unless Tony was already there --Pepper had an access pass, but these days she rarely used it. Rhodey, becauseTony was never sure when his bestie was going to be in town, and it was justeasier to let Rhodey come in and get his attention than to be sure that areminder would pry him out of his headspace and out for a dinner meeting.

(mobile readers, ware the readmore)

So why was there crumpled paper in hiswastebasket? Tony never used paper. Even when Pepper had things for him to signthese days, they were always on tablets or another device that he could use athumb print and scribble in the air with a light pen.

Tony fished the paper out of the trash; balledup and torn. He spread it out on his workbench, matching the pieces together.Hand-written, even. The letters were black and spiky, written with thatbackward slant that indicated a left-handed writer.

Tony

I am afraid of forgettingI am afraid of myselfI am afraid that I'll hurt someoneI am afraid that someone will be youI am even afraid you'll forget meI am afraid of the coldI am afraid of the darkI am afraid that blood is on my handsI am afraid that it's never mineI am even afraid sometimes it's yoursI want to know loveI want remember who I amI want your touchI want your kissI even want your loveI want to know who I amI want to remember who I wasI want to have a futureI want to have dreamsI even want to be with you

Most of all…..

#5 Pick Wildflowers

Five days running, Tony had opened the door to the penthouse and found a little bouquet of daisies, tied with a silver ribbon, laying across the hall.

Daisies didn’t smell like anything.

They were small, white and yellow.

The petals were not quite firmly attached; a few of them always fell off when he picked up the packet. They weren’t cultivated, either. Mandelbrot only knew where his unseen admirer was getting them from. There were aphids crawling on the stems sometimes. The petals were somewhat gray from being exposed to roadside air.

Every morning Tony brought them back into the penthouse and found a little cup full of water to put them in.

The sixth day, he left a little note pinned to the floor where the flowers had been left.

and while never saying a wordwho was anything but dumb;since the silence of himself sang like a bird.Most people have been heardscreaming for internationalmeasures that render hell rational—i thank heaven somebody’s crazyenough to give me a daisy

Eecummings

The seventh day, someone left roses.

#19 Watch an old Movie

Tony would have thought it was Steve whoselected the black-and-white films, but Steve really had almost no interest inmovie night at all. He sat with everyone else, because it was expected andbecause Steve had some pretty firm beliefs about team-building activities, butwhenever it was Steve’s turn to pick the films, he usually selected somethingfrom the Oscars awards list, like he was going through in reverse chronologicalorder. According to Tony’s mental map, he was going to have to skip Steve’s turnin about a month, because he was not going to watch Forrest Gump again. Thatmovie was terrible the first time.

Bucky, on the other hand, kept picking all theold films. City Lights, Notorious, Roman Holiday, Camille.

And the man put off body heat like nobody’sbusiness. There was something about a super-soldier’s metabolism, Tonytheorized, but Bucky was like a portable furnace. Tony didn’t like to admit it,but he was getting older, and it started casually enough, just sitting next tothe man was enough to keep him warm.

Then he was leaning against Bucky, sharingpopcorn. No one sat on Bucky’s right, that was Tony’s spot, long before Tonyeven recognized it. Bucky was so warm, and soft. And one night, while they werewatching Philadelphia Story, Bucky’s arm went around Tony’s shoulderslike it was the most natural thing in the world. He played with the ends ofTony’s hair, fingers dangling loose and warm over Tony’s neck.

#34 Rooftop picnic

“Hey, Tony,” a soft voice grabbed his attentionand Tony looked up from where he was analyzing a three percent improvement inarc-reactor efficiency. “You hungry?”

“Hmmm?” Tony stuck the screwdriver in his mouth.He didn’t actually need a screwdriver, but he had a tendency to fiddle while hewas thinking and the screwdriver often seemed to end up in his hand, or in hismouth, or sometimes drumming it against the countertop. He went through a listof food that he thought he’d eaten in the last few days; an orange forbreakfast was the last thing he could remember and looking at the clock, hewasn’t sure if that was this morning or yesterday morning. He did sort of getinto the zone sometimes.’ “I could eat.”

Bucky gingerly took the screwdriver out ofTony’s mouth and put it down next to his toolbox. “That can’t be hygienic,”Bucky commented.

“Pfffft,” Tony dismissed this concern. Really,Bucky should have seen his working conditions in Afghanistan. On secondthought, and third, and maybe seventh as well, he probably should not. Buckyhad gotten a little wild around the eyes when Steve had off-hand mentionedTony’s captivity at the hands of Ten Rings, and Steve hadn’t even gotten intosome of the more gruesome parts of that memory.

Tony had to admit, he was surprised by that;given what Bucky had gone through with Hydra, he’d almost been expecting a boutor two of trauma-Olympics where a room full of people competed for who’d had itworst and everybody lost.

When Tony went to push the button for the commonkitchen, Bucky reached past him and thumbed the rooftop access.

“What’s up, Bambi?”

Bucky made a soft scoffing noise and rolled hiseyes. “It’s a surprise, genius,” he said.

The landing platform had a small table and twochairs set up; a simple peaked tent had been arranged, dripping with white Christmaslights, over the table.

A whiff of spicy Thai food came from silverplatters arranged on the buffet to the side.

“What is this?”

“Dinner,” Bucky said, offering Tony his arm.“Some genius you are.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “I know dinner. But…dinner, or… you know… dinner?”

“Whatever you want it to be, Tony,” Bucky said,all wide-eyed sincerity and earnest eagerness.

“Are you…” Tony wasn’t sure how to phrase it.“Are you --”

“Courting you?” Bucky suggested. “If… yeah, kinda,I guess. If you… wanted to, I dunno. I…”

Tony’s eyebrow shot up. “Is this a date, Barnes,it’s a yes or no question.”

James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier, themost feared ghost-story assassin in the last century, stared down at the tipsof his boots and scuffed his foot in the gravel that covered the roof of theAvenger’s Tower. “Yes?” He looked for all the world like a high school juniorthat was trying to work up his nerve to ask out the homecoming queen.

It should not have been cute.

It should have been damn near terrifying.

It was fucking adorable.

“A date,” Tony said, again, slow. Rolling theword around in his mouth like he wasn’t sure what it was supposed to tastelike.

“Yes,” Bucky said again. “I’d… would you like tohave dinner with me, Tony?”

Tony rested his fingers on Bucky’s offered arm.“Yes, yes I would.”

#50 Do what comes naturally. Slowly.

Tony snuggled, wrapped around Bucky’s body likea cuddly octopus. “I want to see this list of yours,” he said.

Bucky blushed. He’d finally confessed, let Tonydrag it out of him with torturous kisses and teasing touches, that he’d gottenhis ideas from a glossy magazine. But Bucky had his number now. He kissedTony’s temple and worked his way down with soft nuzzles until he was nipping atTony’s throat. With all the wicked promise he felt in his heart, Bucky ran hishands up Tony’s body. “Shall I read it to you?”

#winteriron #tony x bucky #tony stark #bucky barnes #fluff #romantic dates #sweet #tooth rotting fluff #working off a list #prompts #tisfan #Anonymous

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