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sign-from-god-complex · 4 years

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Self-Control

Summary: The sound of footsteps pad across the landing above and though Virgil has come all this way he’s suddenly struck with the feeling that he’s not ready. It’s been 15 years since they’ve seen each other—so much can change in 15 years; so much has changed in 15 years.

Though, maybe things haven’t changed quite as much as Virgil thinks.

(AKA, a past-punk moxiety AU)

Pairing: Moxiety!

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, smoking, homophobia and nondescript injury. Vague allusions to past abuse (or at least mentions of terrible parental figures). Brief discussion of a parental figure having died.

AO3 Link

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It isn’t at all the place Virgil imagined for him. The flower pots all sit in a row on the steps, red ivy climbing up the fence like spider webs and a garden hose curled up on a perfectly manicured front lawn. Everything about it is picturesque—almost to the point of insanity—and as a butterfly floats by and lands delicately on a ladder leaning onto the fence from the backyard, Virgil wonders what in the world could have changed Patton so drastically to have led to this.

There’s an image, in his head, of teenage rebellion—of 2 am milkshakes and stolen bicycles, of broken glass and laughter, so much laughter, as they took advantage of what time they had left to live. It doesn’t fit in with this pastel blue sky in this pastel blue neighbourhood full of pastel blue people but he knew that it wouldn’t. He knew things would be different.

Though, that doesn’t make it all that much easier to comprehend.

Vaguely, Virgil hears the sound of excited squeals coming from the yard and he ducks his head over the fence just a bit, catching sight of a young girl flying off of a trampoline at a hundred miles an hour—hair a mess and grin bright.

The kid must be Patton’s—it’s unmistakable, that dark skin and reckless look, like she’s ready to take the world on at any moment—and Virgil can’t help but remember the nights the two of them spent drinking and talking and vowing to never tie themselves down to anyone or anything.

He supposes no one really does know what they want when they’re young.

It takes Virgil a while to gather up the courage to knock—he’s all too aware of his leather jacket and patches, his dyed hair and piercings. He couldn’t feel more out of place in this suburban neighbourhood and he hadn’t thought that around Patton he could ever feel out of place.

In the end, though, the choice is taken out of his hands. The young girl throws open the door, clearly looking to haul ass across the street to the park—the kind of place he and Pat would have smoked, once upon a time—but is stopped short as she notices Virgil standing in her way. There’s a moment where he’s afraid she’s going to scream or cry or something else he would have no clue how to deal with but instead, she just grins cheekily.

“Dad!” she yells, barely turning her head to face the soft white interior of the house, “There’s a man here for you!”

The sound of footsteps pad across the landing above and for a moment Virgil is so afraid that he’s gotten the wrong house or that Patton won’t want to see him and though he’s come all this way he’s struck with the feeling that he’s not ready. It’s been 15 years since they’ve seen each other; so much can change in 15 years.

“Riley, what do you mean? What ma-”

And then, there he is.

His face is void of any of the makeup he used to wear, his hair faded from turquoise to its natural black and left curly in a way he wouldn’t have been caught dead with once. And, over the top of a graphic t-shirt displaying some characters Virgil doesn’t recognise and unripped light-wash jeans, Patton had thrown a familiar blue flannel.

Virgil remembers that flannel, worn under heavy coats to help fight the evening windchill, tied around Patton’s waist as they scaled fences just to see if they could and left in a pile on the floor in his room as they finally escaped back to comfort and warmth. Honestly, he’s just surprised it still fits.

Patton does nothing but stare at him for a moment, his lips parted in shock and his eyes big and wide and god, looking at him now is like falling in love all over again.

“Virge?” he breathes, a melody of disbelief in his voice. Virgil can’t exactly blame him—it isn’t as if he’s someone Patton was expecting to see.

Virgil rubs over the fabric of his jacket, a nervous tick he’d had even back then. “Hey, uh… surprise?”

And in an instant, has Patton pitched forward right into his arms. Virgil catches him—of course, he catches him, he’ll always catch him—and Patton laughs, displaying some level of joy Virgil hadn’t known he’d needed to hear until now. He can feel Patton breathing against his neck as they hold each other and, distantly, the sound of light footsteps echoes away and up the stairs.

They pull apart, eventually, the separation like trying to peel a sticker off of a concrete wall—the easiest kind of graffiti to enact while still being tricky to remove. The distance Patton puts between them seems almost reluctant and Virgil wishes he had the courage to tell him to stay.

“What are you doing here?” Patton asks. It’s soft, like the white fuzzy carpet of his new home and Virgil realises suddenly he’d been so caught up in him that he’d forgotten that this him wasn’t the same.

Patton had always been soft but not soft like this. He’d been soft in redirected conversation and distractions, in Virgil’s favourite TV show on in the background and stolen chocolate bars in his pocket, guiding hands mimicking steady breathing. This Patton seems soft around the edges—worn down, almost—and Virgil feels those 15 years as more of a lifetime.

He doesn’t answer the question—truthfully because he’s not sure how, not sure where to start with the mess of events and near-misses and regrets that finally brought him here to Patton’s doorstep—and instead replies with one of his own.

“My mom died. Did you know that?” It’s a stupid thing to ask, they hadn’t spoken to each other in 15 years, there was no way he could have known. Virgil asks it all the same though. “I have her money now. Didn’t write me out of the will even after everything we went through. Guess she didn’t want how much she hated me and my “lifestyle” to come out even after she’d kicked it.”

Patton just looks at him. There’s something sad in his eyes, maybe, something regretful or sympathetic, something holding years worth of apologies and love confessions in not so many words that every night they'd pretended they hadn’t said.

Maybe not, he isn’t sure. He’s never been very good with stuff like that.

“You owe me a party,” Virgil continues impulsively. Patton grins and shakes his head and the urge to kiss him is so strong for a moment Virgil can’t breathe. “You promised me when she was dead and I didn’t have to worry about her anymore we’d have a party. With cheerio sausages and expensive liquor and-”

“Sparkling juice and bad karaoke,” Patton interrupts, “I remember.”

Nobody speaks. Patton doesn’t invite him in and Virgil doesn’t ask for fear of being turned away.

He knows there’s an element of worship in the way he looks at Patton. It’s worship like the way farmers pray for rain in a drought, worship like how sailors are drawn to the rough turn of the sea and worship like teens relishing in the night when they’re bored and alone and angry, yearning for freedom that only comes in years they feel they don’t have left.

But now, dark eyes gazing at him and breath catching in his throat, Virgil thinks maybe he isn’t the only one who feels it.

“I have a kid now, you know?” Patton asks and Virgil knows instantly that question isn’t about the party but everything that comes after it—all of the hundreds of possibilities that stem from this decision that neither of them can quite voice out loud, “Single parent. I made a lot of bad choices in those 15 years—gave myself away to a few people who didn’t deserve it, maybe—but she’s… helped. I want to be better for her.”

Virgil nods. It’s a little hard to reconcile teenage Patton with this one but he tries anyway. He has to; he owes him that much.

(In truth, he owes him so, so much more than that but right now this is all he feels he can give.)

“Yeah, uh, Riley, right? Seems like a sweet kid, if not a bit mischievous.” Virgil smirks slightly, somewhere between teasing and nostalgic. “Kind of like you were.”

At that, Patton grins and he laughs and it feels right—feels like early morning rainfall and crackling log fires, like the burning in your lungs as you run and the way your eyes slowly drift shut against your will when you’re up too late, like every ending and beginning in just a moment.

He shakes his head again, almost affectionately chastising and there’s a stuttering of Virgil’s hand as he goes to reach out, to brush a strand of hair away from Patton’s face but stops himself halfway through.

Patton doesn’t seem to notice. Virgil once thought Patton never noticed—never saw the longing in his eyes and the flushed red of his cheeks as they sat side-by-side on a park bench in the middle of winter, running from the heat of harsh words and high expectations.

He wonders if maybe that was naive.

“Well, I’ve gotta make sure to raise her right,” Patton jokes and his smile is amused—fond and familiar like the worn leather of Virgil’s jacket between his fingers, “If she’s not questioning authority and getting me called down to the office at least once a term then I’m doing something wrong.”

With that, there’s a flash—just a moment—of principal visits and angry rants, of cutting class to sit with the other in the silence of the school office and knowing, that outside of the two of them, there was no one else to come. And he thinks of Patton—this Patton, not his Patton—taking up the empty space of that office with kind reassurances and defensive words, protecting and protecting and protecting, fighting for Riley the way he had Virgil.

Parenthood suits Patton more than he’d first thought, perhaps.

“Ah, office visits.” Virgil nods sagely and can’t resist the quirk of his lips as Patton giggles. “A hallmark of a punk child. Next thing you know she’ll be dyeing her hair, running off to the park in the middle of the night to meet up with boys.”

It’s obviously a joke but still, Patton quietens, taking on a more contemplative look. It seems as if he’s remembering something and Virgil needs, all at once, to make sure he’s more to Patton than simply that expression on his face in the midst of just another day.

“Yeah,” Patton finally says, “Yeah, she was thinking purple actually.”

Virgil doesn’t reach up and drag a hand through his own purple hair but it’s a near thing. He hums—soft and low. “Good taste.”

A heavy silence rings in his ears—an echo of all the memories they share and all the memories they don’t, a collision of black and pastel blue on a canvas already painted with teenage angst and first love—and Virgil can't stand the way it feels like it may be too much to overcome. It isn't; he won't let it be.

He takes a step closer and Patton doesn’t move away, just lets Virgil crowd him against the doorframe till their chests are pressed together and each shuddering breath is a joint effort.

“I’d like to get to know her. If you’ll let me,” he murmurs and he’s so close that he can hear Patton’s heartbeat pick up as he slides a hand up to brush at the strands of hair against Virgil’s neck.

The air between them is tense and pulled tight—gazes tracing over freckles and foundation, their skin warm with each point of contact and the rushing of blood in Virgil’s ears drowning out the pounding of his heart. Each second that goes by without comment feels to Virgil like sinking into quicksand, like fingers losing their grip on the edge of a building and threatening to let him fall.

But, before he can draw away, throw up his walls and stumble his way through apologies like they’re nothing more than kids again, Patton tugs him forward and, softly, he brings their lips together.

The kiss is a teenage fantasy come true, the culmination of every moment—under streetlights or under blankets or under nothing more than the cover of night itself—where Virgil longed to reach out and tell Patton that he wanted to kiss him until the world faded away and all that he could focus on was the taste of cherry red lipstick and the joy and love pounding in his chest like a second heartbeat.

It's the comfort in late-night knocking, Patton taking Virgil in and patching him up and holding him as he cries because he has a mother that doesn’t love him and a father that’s always absent and a world that doesn’t care, muttered reassurances a quiet backdrop to his sobs.

It's the warmth in drinking their way through meagre retail paychecks, Patton’s soft touches like fire against his skin and the thread of restraint holding Virgil back from blurting out a love confession worn down to something as thin as a spiderweb and just as delicate.

It's the exhilaration in grocery store runs with no money and bags filled with spray paint cans, their gloved hands clasped tight as they race against the biting evening wind, giving in to the urge to let out a cry of victory that bounces off the empty alley walls.

So, yes, it’s the culmination of years of pining but it’s more than that too. It’s an apology, it’s acceptance and it’s an offer of a future, to stay here with them.

“I think I’d like that,” Patton gasps as he pulls away and Virgil’s so enamoured even after all these years that he barely knows what to say, “For you to know her, I mean. She’d like you. She’s like you, or at least the way you used to be—always a bit loose with self-control.”

Virgil doesn’t tell Patton that all his self-control had been going towards keeping himself from telling him he loved him. He doesn’t think he’d know how.

Slowly, Virgil blinks and he nods and it’s all he can do to keep himself standing as Patton beams up at him with a smile reminiscent of stars colliding—bright and beautiful enough to take his breath away. And suddenly Virgil feels like maybe he can fit in here, that maybe he can fit in anywhere he needs to if Patton keeps looking at him like that.

He smiles back, smaller than the one he’d received but the way Patton’s eyes light up makes Virgil feel like maybe that doesn’t really matter. “Okay, yeah. I want that; I want to stay.”

“Okay,” Patton parrots and he’s barely holding back giggles, Virgil can tell. It’s okay though because he feels it too—that sense of happiness and disbelief that has almost no other way to present itself—and giving in feels more like an inevitability.

So, laughing and hands joined together, Patton pulls Virgil inside to the soft white of his suburban home. And he closes the door.

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Taglist: @mutechild @super-magical-wizard @shadowsfromthesun @teadays @sandersships @camcam774 @autism-goblin @deadlyhuggles6 @romanthestarstruckqueer @whispers-stuff-in-your-ear @rainboots-are-for-snobs @welpweregonnadie @spirits-in-my-thoughts @hold-my-hat @goodandbadisallmadeupnonsense @stop-it-anxiety @figurative-falsehood @jadedfantasies231 @idosanderssidespromptssometimes @poisonedapples @sanders-screams @another-sandersidesblog @do-not-just-see-observe @mychemicalpanicattheemo @harleyquinnamiright @localtransgrape @fandomsofrandom @gattonero17 @airiervessel @ollyollyoxinfree @tired-and-probably-crying .

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #moxiety #patton sanders #virgil sanders #lo can write #blease read this guys I worked really really hard on it #they're just. soft and in love #virgil has Many Feelings

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amphtaminedreams · 4 years

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The Women of Euphoria and Personal Style: Lookbook no.8

Hi to anyone reading,

I hope you’re well considering everything going on! It feels weird to want to talk about fashion or TV shows or red carpets or whatever when 90% of my Google searches are COVID-19 related but there you go. It’s all about trying to power through as normal (minus the social interaction) and pretend the world isn’t ending, right? Queue nervous laughter.

And as if things aren't shitty enough, production of season 2 of Euphoria has been postponed until further notice.

Okay, in the grand scheme of things, having to wait a bit longer for a TV show isn’t catastrophic but it does just about sum up the transition from 2019 to 2020 thus far that after HBO redeemed itself by broadcasting Euphoria in the summer following an ending to Game of Thrones that has made the whole series unrewatchable, the glimmer of hope in me reignited by the prospect of series 2 this year has been quickly dashed. 2021, I’m rooting for you, because it doesn’t seem like things are getting better any time soon, and in all seriousness, I think everyone needs a break from the collective suffering of the last few months.

For me (and undoubtedly for many others if the hundreds of makeup looks and styling videos are anything to go by), Euphoria’s effect on the world of fashion and beauty is unprecedented. I really can’t recall a TV show in living memory that has had as much of an impact on the way young people dress. I mean, this might partially be because the style of the characters already kind of caters to and draws from the target audience but also, aside from Blair Waldorf did anybody really give THAT much of a fuck about what anybody in Gossip Girl wore?

The draw of the styling on Euphoria is that it has something for everyone. The style of each of the main girls, Rue, Kat, Maddy, Jules and Cassie, all of whom I’ve attempted (emphasis on attempted!) to base (emphasis on base!) outfits around, is varied and distinctive but still so current and realistic at the same time. It’s also consistent; even if you don’t own the specific pieces worn by any of them, similar shapes and details reoccur enough in different looks throughout the series that it’s not hard to create an outfit which matches your favourite character’s overall vibe without buying anything new. That’s kinda what I have attempted to do here and without further ado, I’m gonna get on with it! First up:

Jules (Played by Hunter Schafer)

When it comes to whose style is the most experimental, Jules is the obvious answer. A lot of her outfits are what I imagine a cartoonist in the near-distant future will envision their cool girl protagonist wearing. Whilst her ensembles are generally whimsical and girly for the most part, there’s usually a few slightly punk-ish finishing touches thrown in there too be it through chunky shoes or bold makeup or that incredible mesh trench coat she wears in the series finale with the trans symbol on the back which, honestly, deserves a moment of silence.

There are definitely nods to current fashion trends sprinkled throughout her wardrobe too. I'm not going to lie, despite someone at work seemingly thinking it was an insult to tell me I look like someone who does (I still don’t know but this person has a Rick and Morty keyring so I don’t give it too much weight), I’ve never watched any anime. BUT, that being said, given the abundance of anime screenshots posted by all these aesthetic oriented Instagram and Tumblr moodboard accounts, I have a vague idea of what some of the more iconic characters look like and a lot of Jules’ looks seem to be very much modelled after or at least inspired by them. In a way, I see a lot of her looks as a blend between modern “e-girl”, Y2K skater chick (yes, I’m thinking early Avril Lavigne), and 2013 Tumblr “hipster” a la 2014 Joanna Kutcha and Charlie Barker, and though on paper that sounds like a nightmare combination, it works. I know-if that sentence were a Depop description I would’ve just gained 30 followers.

When it comes to my own interpretation of Jules’ style, it’s definitely something I like to channel when I’m putting together a proper OUTFIT outfit. Meaning an outfit I actually put effort into and thus will most likely want to get a good photo in, lol. The way her character dresses is almost quite Christopher Kane in that it’s fresh and unusual but still understated enough that I wouldn’t walk into a room wearing any of these feeling like I’m doing a Rick Owens runway.

I’m not TOO far out of my comfort zone but still at the same time, I’d be trying something new and maybe a little bit more zany than I'm used to. As for noting where any of these pieces are from, only a few have been bought in the last 6 months, but from left to right clockwise I have marked out those that have in case they’re still available (though be wary of the fact that it seems a lot of online clothes stores are still forcing warehouse employees to work in close confines at the moment and so perhaps aren’t operating the most ethically):

LOOK 1

Corset-Jaded London

Shoes-TK Maxx

LOOK 2

Dress-Motel Rocks

Boots-Koi Vegan Footwear

LOOK 3

Dress-Jaded London

LOOK 4

Dress-Jaded London

Beret-Ebay

LOOK 5

Beret-Ebay

LOOK 6

Mesh Top-Depop

Hair Clips-Urban Outfitters

Kat (Played by Barbie Ferreira)

Eurgh, Kat.

I LOVE THIS BITCH.

If I had to choose my favourite character in the show, it would be a very close toss-up between her and Rue, and though I think Rue might just about nab the top spot for her relatability factor, Kat is the girl I want to be or wish that I had been when I was at school. I mean, there’s definitely an argument to be made in that a lot of what she’s doing with her cam work could be seen as a means of validation (Sam Levinson has basically said everyone on the show has some kind of an unhealthy coping mechanism and I would guess due to the circumstances in which her cam girl career was borne and the fact she’s underage, this would be hers) but I do think in other ways we really see Kat reclaim her power and recognise herself for the smart, capable, gorgeous woman that she is. Honestly, the definition of divine feminine energy, and I would completely let Barbie Ferreira/basically Kat if she was also actually 23 dominate me.

Plus! Her! Style! Is! The! Bomb! Definitely the easiest character to base looks around because if I’m totally honest Kat’s energy is pretty much just what I want to emulate in every day life.

It’s either pieces that are typically feminine, cutesy, and even slightly preppy at times drenched in everything grunge OR vice versa where you have something semi-gothic and then add a colourful, more playful touch in there that harks back to the beginning of the series before Kat had began to explore her identity and sexuality and dressed slightly more Forever 21.

I’d say, not yet with my whole chest, that on a good day the outfits I put together when making an effort aren’t too far off something Kat would wear, minus the more overtly BDSM touches; if wearing a ring choker in London is enough to get me a creepy comment from a gross middle aged shopkeeper (because I apparently forfeited my right not to be perved on when I decided to buy a bottle of Oasis summer fruits), then you can only imagine the kind of looks wearing a full-on harness would get in my conservative OAP dominated hometown. Not the most doable right now, especially considering the only time I get out is to work and to go for a run. The chafing I could deal with but the horrified glares of pensioners whose M&S prawn mayo sandwiches I’ve ruined by simply being in their eyesight not so much.

LOOK 1-

Corset-Urban Outfitters

LOOK 2-

Bodysuit-Depop

Skirt-Zara

Harness-Ebay

LOOK 3-

Co-ord-Depop

Lace-up Corset-Missguided

LOOK 4-

Dress-Vintage

LOOK 5-

Belt-Ebay

LOOK 6-

Coat-Topshop

Dress-Jaded London

LOOK 7-

Fishnet Top-Ebay

Skirt-Urban Outfitters

Maddy (Played by Alexa Demie)

Not gonna lie, I was kind of scared to do Maddy. I’m scared to be posting this, lol! Alexa Demie has played this character for a single season and she’s already one of the most iconic women to grace our screens in years. This is a huge undertaking and I don’t have the bank balance or the body confidence (lmao) to raid IAmGia.

And this is where I want to stress: THESE ARE NOT OUTFIT RECREATIONS. THESE ARE INSPIRED BY. I HAVE ADDED ELEMENTS OF MY OWN STYLE INTO THEM. PLEASE DON’T DRAG ME. I KNOW, I’M NOT ALEXA DEMIE. I WOULD NEVER ASSUME TO BE ALEXA DEMIE. I’M NOT ABOUT TO TAKE THE LORD’S NAME IN VAIN LIKE THAT. So now we’ve got that out the way (wipes bead of sweat off forehead), let’s continue.

Everything about Maddy Perez is extra. She has very much been established as a centre of attention character, and her outfits are a key part of that. They’re daring, they’re hyper-feminine, and they are always glamorous. We’re told that she competed in beauty pageants when she was younger and it’s clear that level of excess and coordination and glitz and all-round-boujeeness wormed its way into her DNA during that time. Even the “depression” outfit she wears to school following Nate becoming violent at the fair is costume-like, a 2019 Bratz doll Off-White street style collaboration.

Do you know how HARD I had to try to be HOT!? For these photos. Alexa Demie is one of those blessed women who doesn’t have to try at all, and that translates into the character completely. At any given moment, Maddy could add or remove one item or clothing and be let straight into the VIP section of a club, and that, honestly, is inspiring to us all in these dark times.

One thing I tried to keep in mind is that she always looks polished and coordinated, I.E the kind of look I would prepare for a night out is something Maddy would wear on an average day. Co-ords and delicate prints seem to be more subtle wardrobe staples along with mesh and PVC and glitter and feathers and fur and basically anything that toes the line between expensive looking and tacky. Yes, I am aware we may toe different sides of that line but please let me stay delusional and believe that’s not the case for 5 minutes. Much appreciated xoxo

LOOK 1-

Bodysuit-Jaded London

LOOK 2-

Bralette-Depop

LOOK 3-

Co-ord Suit-Boohoo

Bodysuit-Boohoo

LOOK 4-

Dress-Motel Rocks

Shoes-Schuh

LOOK 5-

Bodysuit-Zaful

Trousers-Depop

Coat-Topshop

LOOK 6-

Dress-Zaful

Belt-Zaful

LOOK 7-

Top-Jaded London

Hair Clips-H&M

Rue (Played by Zendaya Coleman)

I have a complicated relationship with Rue as a character. When I started season 1 of Euphoria, I was like “Oh my god, this girl is the worst. Jesus, she’s so negative and draining and willingly self-destructive and-”

Then, oh my god is this what it’s like to live with me!?

I will say, to my own credit, that I don’t think I've ever been quite as hard to deal with as Rue (a lot less smashing stuff up and a lot more moping), and to HER credit, by the end of the season we come to realise she’s been through a fucking lot and so it makes sense, but wow. I don’t think I have ever seen a teen show handle drug abuse and mental illness in such a brutal way. It’s quite a talent to be able to show a character cause so much pain to those closest to them and yet do so through a sympathetic lens. And issues aside, whether it’s her occasional social awkwardness or her relationship with her family or watching bloody Love Island (still quite surreal to see Zendaya Coleman witnessing the Amy/Curtis drama unfold), Rue is just my favourite character to follow.

Her style, though. AH. The thing is, I can hardly drag it, because it’s pretty much what I wear when I’m moping about the house-or just any time I can get away with it to be honest-to a T. I want to stay true to character, but that being said, creating a “Seth Rogen”-esque outfit that’s worth posting on here is difficult. So, with the same kind of artistic license that had me wearing berets whilst cosplaying Maddy Perez, here is the best I could do:

I know, I know, it’s probably too much colour and jewellery for Rue but this is as toned down as I could do and I tried to stick with the key silhouettes we see from her throughout the season; I mean, I can’t see her wearing leopard print but the structure of the coat in outfit 1 is very similar to the one seen in Shook Ones pt.II. I think the bottom line when it comes to her character is keeping things effortless and not overly-feminine; you want to mix street style, athleisure and your dad’s wardrobe favourites like your life depends on it. Plus messy hair and smudged makeup, both of which I’ve already got down according to the completely inappropriate number of customers who’ve asked if I'm tired at work so thanks for that guys, and glitter tears. Lots and lots of glitter tears.

OUTFIT 1-

Dungarees-Vintage

OUTFIT 2-

Trousers-Depop

Cardigan-Urban Outfitters

OUTFIT 5-

Beanie-Depop

OUTFIT 6-

Shirt-Boohoo Man

Sports Bra-TK Maxx

Trousers-Urban Outfitters

OUTFIT 7-

Shirt-Jaded London

Cassie (Played by Sydney Sweeney)

Style-wise, Cassie is a hard one. When putting outfits for her character together, I found myself gravitating towards a direction that’s probably a bit too bohemian for her character, under the guidance of loose terms like “girl-next-door”, “floaty”, “delicate”, you get the idea. She definitely feels the least fully-realised in terms of all the main girls and I think it’s fair to say she’s probably got a bit of self-discovery to do. Most of her storylines in the season are dictated by her relationships to other people: McKay, Maddy, Lexie, her parents and so on.

Nevertheless, I tried to stick to the airier, more traditionally “pretty” pieces whilst still channelling the confidence and ease with which Cassie pulls them off. Sydney Sweeney has the most incredible figure and I feel like whilst the clothes the on-set stylists put her in flatter that and don’t hide anything, they’re still the focus. It doesn’t feel like there’s anything more inherently sexual about her character than any of the other main female characters despite the way the men within the narrative view her, and I think it’s a testament to the the wardrobe department that to me she still gives off big modern Disney princess energy and a certain innocence even whilst we hear her being continuously sexualised by her male peers.

If anything, Cassie probably dresses the most like an actual teenage girl, and her style, whilst less distinctive than the other girls, still does a good job of capturing the youth and romanticism of her character.

The colour palette of her wardrobe tends to be quite neutral, with a couple of pastels thrown in there, and if there are any details, they’re usually quite dainty. Similarly, Cassie is probably the least experimental when it comes to her makeup; we don’t really see her wearing the bold eyeshadows or liners or gems like the other girls at any point.

OUTFIT 1-

Bodysuit-Motel Rocks

Hair Clips-Bershka

OUTFIT 2-

Dress-Jaded London

OUTFIT 3-

Trousers-Urban Outfitters

OUTFIT 4-

Top-Urban Outfitters

Hairband-H&M

`OUTFIT 5-

Top-Urban Outfitters

Jeans-Zaful

Headband-Primark

OUTFIT 6-

Top-Urban Outfitters

OUTFIT 7-

Dress-Urban Outfitters

Hair Clips-Boohoo

SO, I guess that’s it for my Euphoria lookbook! As always, let me know what you think (nicely pls, my ego is fragile lol) and I’d love to hear your opinions on the show too! I really haven’t got this excited over a new TV show in ages and I just think that it does everything so excellently-from the writing to the cinematography to the soundtrack, you can tell each element is so carefully and purposefully constructed. It immerses you into the dramatic highs and lows of being a teenager in a way I haven’t seen since UK Skins and I never thought I’d watch a show which held a candle to that.

In terms of what I’m doing next, I’ve got a very delayed fashion week masterpost in the works as well as something to fill the Met Gala shaped hole in our lives, which I hope to get up over the next couple of weeks. In the meantime, if you read to the end, THANK YOU! And I hope you’re staying safe and AT HOME where possible. I know this self-isolation feels never-ending and if I’m honest, it is having a hugely negative effect on my mental health, but NHS staff are doing their very best with the shitty recourses they have and whilst it seems that our government have thrown workers under the bus once again, we can all do our bit to combat that by slowing the spread of the virus. Also thank you to anybody who’s out working now in such a scary and uncertain time! I work at a grocery store and can say from experience that the best way to show this thanks is just through kindness and following employee’s instructions without giving them grief for it. Everyone’s scared right now and the best we can do is pull together and look out for each other, as difficult as that might seem at times.

Anyway, sorry for the ramble, and like I said, stay safe! Thanks once again if you read til the end or even if you’re just here for the photos. Appreciate it more than you know either way!

Lauren x

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ugh-supersoldiers · 4 years

Text

It Won’t Be Long

MASTERLIST

Characters: Bucky x reader

Summary: Somehow distance is everything as much as it is nothing at all when it comes to the love you have for Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Angst & fluff, really bittersweet (but there will likely be a part two that’s allllll fluff), this is a fic about Bucky and the reader dealing with being separated during social distancing so if that’s triggering please don’t read!

Words: 2314

A/N: This is for everyone missin’ someone while in social distancing who might need a little reminder that it won’t last forever (and for anyone who just loves some good ol fashioned bucky barnes charm). I’ve seen so much longing on my dash and I just want to say, I feel you, I love you, you will get through this, you will see the ones you love again. I wish everyone health and wellbeing.

AND AS ALWAYS REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE MEGA APPRECIATED.

Missing someone is hard, even when it’s necessary.

Keep yourself away from everyone, at least six feet apart at all times. Stay in your own place of residence, don’t pay a physical visit to anyone under any circumstances. Avoid any kind of contact with anyone especially those outside of your immediate household for all reasons unless urgent.

Quarentine. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, you’d anticipated it; emotionally prepared for it, but longing for the presense of someone you love simply can’t be rehearsed into familiarity.

Longing inters like you smoke; licking up the walls and permeating even your most primive and forgotten senses until it renders itself all comsuming; suffocating, and in a twist of cruel irony it will scorch the safety of the very fire it specters.

Longing turns loving someone into torment.

Bucky Barnes. It had been months since you’d been with him.

Months.

You had phonecalls, and videochats, and texting, but it could never match up to his physical presense. It’s amazing the things about someone you realize you took for granted when you’re forced into separation.

Even so much as being in the same room as him felt like something you should have thanked god for at the time.

You’d wanted so desperately to be able to stay with him, to have him live in your apartment with you until social distancing laws were lifted, and that was almost an option - until it wasn’t.

Bucky’s anatomy rendered him in no serious danger of infection, and knowing this as soon as ‘quarentine’ entered his ears he had reached out to every medical facility around to see how he could help. The answers mostly consisted of small routine jobs that doctors and nurses struggled to find the time for, until one really struck him: let us use your biological makeup to see if it helps us solve puzzle of vaccine development.

He’d never signed on to something so quickly in his life.

“My soldier,” You’d laughed, “Always fighting for what’s right, even when it’s not his war.”

“It’s everyone’s war, doll. I’m just doing my part, like everyone else.” He’d replied.

It was true, Bucky would recover quickly from the virus in the extremely rare case that he were to contract it at all, but his work on the vaccine didn’t make him invulnerable to being a carrier and he refused to risk your life in the process of trying to help save so many.

And so, you had spent your time in your apartmen and he at the compound unless at a medical facility being poked and prodded for the sake of humanity.

It was ungodly early in the morning, nearly three. Far too early to be making a video call, but the world had come to a screeching hault months ago and since then time didn’t seem to matter all that much. And you knew for a fact that he’d still be awake.

You sipped at the tea in your mug as you sat on your bed, reaching for your phone. Your finger hovered over his contact for a moment, a last hesitation as you wondered if perhaps he was sleeping, but it didn’t stop you.

He answered after a single ring.

“I know it’s stupidly early, but I miss you so much and I don’t know what to do with myself because of it.” You whispered immediately, knowing there was little point in offering a salutation.

You could see his face illuminated by the light of his phone screen as he sat cross legged on his bed. His hair was tied back, but a few stray pieces had fallen back onto his face. He looked to be wearing a sweater. It was a soft green. He looked perfect.

“I wasn’t sleeping (Y/N), don’t worry,” He said, “I miss you too, like you wouldn’t believe but it won’t be long now, I promise.”

He tried his best to reassure you, but you both knew he couldn’t really make that promise. There was no guarentee how much more time would pass until you could be together again.

“I hate this, I can’t do it anymore. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

You were sitting with your covers pulled over your shoulders, sometimes bring a mug to your lips to sip at it. The warm glow of the fairy lights that you’d wrapped around your bedframe gave romantic definition to your features. He could swear he’d never seen something more beautiful in his life, but he thought that every single time he’d been able to see your face since he last saw it in person.

“You’re not going crazy, I would’ve told you by know if you were.” He winked.

The small laugh he earned from you made him smile, even if he could hear the subtly of the tears you were fighting.

“I love you, (Y/N). This is hard, baby, but you have to stay safe for me. We’ll make it, I know we will.”

“I know, Buck. I just feel like a piece of me missing when you’re not around.”

A tear had finally fallen from your waterline and onto your cheek. You quickly wiped it away in hopes he wouldn’t notice. He did.

His face read as if he was in physical agony. He couldn’t stand seeing you like this, but he knew there was nothing he could do other than try his best to make sure you knew he loved you, he missed you, and that this wouldn’t last forever.

“Just think about how great it’ll be when we see each other again.” He whispered, abandoning the crease in his brow in exchange for a small smile.

“It hurts to think about that.” You admitted, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

You’d purposefully tried your best not to think about it too much for that reason, in fact.

“Maybe, but it’s something to look forward to isn’t it?” He pondered, “This feels like forever, but it isn’t. We’re guarenteed to have that moment someday, so why not imagine it? It’s better than this, baby.”

You stared at him in complete awe for a moment as you remembered the man you’d met years ago. The one who couldn’t even so much as bare eye contact with someone for more than a second before looking away, or handle even the lighted touch. That same man, after so much perseverance and growth, was now explaining to you the benefit of looking forward to life’s guarenteed happy moments.

“I’m so proud of you, Buck.”

“What?” He chucked, running a hand down his face in amusement, “Not that I don’t love it when you kiss my ass, but where’d that come from, doll?”

“I’m not kissing your ass, Barnes,” You chided playfully, “I’m telling you the truth. You’ve come a long way from the person you were when you got out. I love you, and I’m amazed by you.”

‘Got out’ he knew meant escaped Hydra’s grasp. You were right, he’d gone through quite the change since then.

“What’s that saying - ‘behind every strong man’..?” He started, raising an eyebrow at you to finish it.

“‘There’s probably a woman nagging him to make dinner for once’.”

Now this really makes him laugh. You watched as his nose scrunched and the crinkles in the corners of his eyes perk up. That’s the laugh you fell for.

“Okay you know for a fact that’s not it, doll. And, I’ll have you know, in the last few weeks I’ve been forced to learn how to cook better since the only other choice is starve.” He quipped, seemingly rather confident in his new found skillset.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Guess I’ll have to show you in person.”

“Yeah...” You muttered daftly as the mention of being with him again came to fruition once more.

“It’ll be amazing.” He said almost dreamily as he closed his eyes, thinking to himself about the ordeal of you being in his arms after so long. He craved you like nothing else.

“Don’t get too full of yourself,” You giggled, “A few months is hardly enough time to match my culinary ability-”

“I meant seein’ you again, baby.”

“Oh.”

Apparently ‘oh’ was the best answer you could come up with.

“Entertain me for a minute?” He asked you, cocking his head to the side with that signature lopsided smile of his. Bucky knew very well you could never say no to that, even if it was a topic you’d be entirely avoiding.

“Lay it on me, Romeo.” You rolled your eyes, but he knew you secretly wanted to hear what he would tell you just as much as he wanted to say it, even at the risk of bittersweetness.

“Whenever they lift the distancing rules, I don’t care what you’re doing, I don’t care what time it is, I don’t care where you are-”

“It’s a pretty safe bet I’ll be here.”

“Would you let me finish?” He chuckled playfully at your interjection.

You had a habit of seeing humour as an escape, and he knew that this was no exception. He was grateful. If you were joking around and being playful with him, at least it meant you weren’t crying anymore.

“Alright, alright.” You relented, opting to drink your tea and listen to him intently.

“My point is: the moment I’m able to see you again, I will run to you. If there’s a promise I know I can make to you, it’s that. You are my whole heart, doll. Nothing can change that, not distance, not a pandemic, not even your snoring-”

“I do not snore!”

“You absolutely do and I’m not done, you little punk.” He snorted before deciding it was time to leave all joking prods aside, “Baby, I love you. I love you so much that I go to sleep thinking about the next time I can see your pretty face, and I wake up with the same thing on my mind because you give me so much joy. I can’t wait to feel you in my atmosphere, and to hold you in my arms again, and to kiss you - god - doll, I miss kissing you more than anything in the world,”

Bucky had come a long way since you met him, yes, but he did still struggle with being emotive sometimes. Saying all of these things to you so directly was a huge deal for him. You knew better than anyone else that he must mean every single word.

“And the only reason I’m still sane is because I know that I’ll get the chance to soon. I don’t know when, but I know for sure that I will. I’ll wait for you, and you’ll wait for me... and that gives me the incentive I need to keep going everyday.” He offered you a sweet smile, which you returned immediately.

You sighed, entirely lovesick.

“You’re a wonder, James Barnes.”

“Oh, (Y/N)- The first name, really?” He couldn’t help but to laugh, even while fighting of a toe curling cringe.

“What? I haven’t seen you in ages - and you know it’s torture not being able to kiss you senseless after that display of your undying love for me - and you expect me not to lighten the mood?”

He watched you raise your mug to your lips, the lips he missed so dearly. There was a glint of mischeif in your eye, the one that made him fall in love with you in the first place.

“Honestly, I don’t know how I could’ve expected anything else.” He laughed, still trying his best to read your face to see if your absorbed what he was saying.

“It’s not easy for me to deal with indefinite timelines,” You admitted, looking at the wall of your bedroom in the distance, “But you know that already. I feel this torturous sense of longing for you in my bones, and knowing that it’s going to stay there for god knows how much longer...”

“I know, doll. Trust me, I know.” He told you.

“Uncertain reunion dates in the future aside, what I can say for sure is that I have the world’s kindest, bravest, most prolific altruist for a boyfriend, and knowing that you’re not only safe but offering yourself up for the sake of others like you are-” You stopped for a moment, desperately trying to not get choked up, “It gives me so much hope.”

When he heard that, he knew you’d gotten the message. It was about finding incentives that gave you hope, that allowed you happiness in moments of forlorn longing.

“Well, shucks.”

Bucky heard you snort in reply to his witticism. He closed his eyes and smiled, truely embracing what you’d said to him. All he ever wanted was to do right by the world; to give back to it. He’d gotten the biggest second chance in recorded history, and he’d be damned if he didn’t make the most of it. Knowing you not only saw the work he put in, but that you were proud of him for it? It made him absolutely melt.

“I’m incessantly in love with you and everything you are.” You said with no chastizing mention of his first name this time.

“I love you too, (Y/N). So much.”

You hummed for a moment, and Bucky tried to decipher if you were doing it out of contentment or if you were thinking.

“You miss kissing me, huh..?”

Thinking. It had definitely been thinking. And by the delish tone of your voice and look on your face Bucky saw when he opened his eyes, it was nothing all too innocent.

You circled the rim of your mug with your finger, drawing out your next words languidly and elicited a low groan from him.

“How about you tell me what else you miss, baby?”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #mcu #marvel fanfiction #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader

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softkuna · 3 years

Text

Sukuna || Interview || Fic - oc

Part 1

Content ║ Punk!Sukuna x oc. There is a reader version here.

Beauty wasn’t in the eye of the beholder, no, it is in the mind. Sukuna was enraptured. Addressed again, he shifted his posture, leaning into the arm of the couch as she did with her chair. The two were close in their cohort. An air of comfortable conversation lingered between them, much to his dismay. Her question wasn’t unusual. He’d been asked it in the beginning of his career and one where he had a planned answer.

Count ║ 2,626 K

Consider ║ Original Character. Swearing. Female Pronouns.

Creator ║ I swear this will go somewhere, I just enjoy the set up too much. So this is the version with the oc that I have. Her first name is Koyori. I have tagged this so that if you dislike ocs, you can read the other version. But! If you like ocs, hopefully you’ll like her ;v;. I did research on punk fashion, culture, and all which was really interesting. I knew some stuff about it before, but it’s really rich! I hope it’s not too information dense for you guys. Either way, Punk!Sukuna is now my comfort au and writing him is an absolute delight!!

Sukuna had a lazy grin as he lounged back into a modern cream sofa. His arm stretched across the back of it, ankle crossed over his knee. Eyes staggered from the two cameras set up to the woman talking with some other chick. One held a small stack of papers, the other was grandly gesturing. He breathed out a short-stop breath, wishing they wouldn’t waste his time with bickering. Annoying as it was, it left a thick self-satisfactory lather over his ego.

“-didn’t you say the band?”

“Yeah, but this is better.”

“Sure… but what happens if-“

Quite frankly, he hated most press and avoided it, so to just have him in the hot seat was a double-edged blade. They didn’t get the whole band, but they did have The King himself. Whatever publicity he thrived off of were live shows, signings, fancams, tangible and real-time events. Interviews were a complete and utter waste of his time. He did a couple in the beginning, but found them pointless, callous even. They all asked the same shit. So, him coming alone was absolutely a note to pin to the fridge, even if it were a passive-aggressive post-it note.

His head turned to the two going back and forth. It wasn’t until the third minute ticked by that Sukuna felt the flashpoint of his blood plummet, “Yo! We doing this or what? You’re wasting my time here, Eros.”

Koyori whipped her head to the man with an indignant, “Excuse me?”

“Eros. Known for being reckless and unreliable? Like your scheduling.” He leaned forward, elbow on knee and chin in palm. The aura of shit-eatery exponentially growing, “You’re not excused, sorry, not sorry Princess.”

“I think you have the wrong God,” She quipped as she dusted off the front of her outfit. It was a smart look and an intentional one for an interview with a punk rocker. What would strike the best complement than a khaki academic outfit? It consisted of a white high collared button up, sleeves billowing before cinching at her wrists. The blouse was stuffed into high-waisted, cuffed khaki chinos, pleated at the center of each pant leg. Over top, a gray woolen sweater vest. Accessories included various silver rings, a black ribbon to tie under the folded collar, and small silver studs as earrings. Makeup remained that done-up natural with brow, liner, and mascara. Hair had been swept into something similar to a faux 1920’s bob, pulled loosely back. The overall silhouette made the perfect contrast.

Sukuna wanted to peg her as your average superficial fashion bitch, he really did. Even at the concert, she dressed smartly despite the pathetic look on she wore on face. It wasn’t until afterwards when he saw the burn in her eyes, that he craved for her to prove him wrong.

Black flats clacked as she approached her own seat, a matching armchair to the couch. Koyori held a certain command once she walked in, instructing him on where to be, which camera to look at, and what the introduction would be. He listened, admiring how her small frame moved to and fro, fixing up last minute edits on a paper, chattering with who he assumed to be a videographer. It was a whole production. One that was hers. The set itself was practically out of a home décor magazine. It was a general space used across the publisher, but she was born to be there. Deserved to be there. Her calculated glee and deliberate positioning of each member made him feel as though he were looking through a mirror.

The interview process began.

Koyori sat professionally, legs crossed and leaning on the arm of her chair closest to Sukuna. He was unmoving, that slit to his lip curling upwards as the cameras began. She introduced the blog, the channel, her social media handles. With a smile, she introduced herself, “I’m Yama Koyori, and to join me in this special is lead singer of Two Face, the King of Curses – Sukuna.”

The camera panned to his lazy wave, “Yo.” He looked to her, she looked to him and for a moment she thought she saw a flicker of interest. Maybe the man was meant for cameras after all.

“After looking more into the punk scene, there’s a pretty interesting history behind it. Revolution, social discourse, poverty, violence, and unity. As someone in the scene, can you talk a little bit about what you know of the background?”

Sukuna drank in her voice, smooth and warm like the steady strum of a bass guitar. For a moment, he wondered if she sang. He quirked a brow, “Sounds like you didn’t research enough to summarize it yourself,” Eyes flickered to her features, watching as slight annoyance crinkled onto her nose then smoothed, “Let me learn you, Daisy. Starting back from rock in the 50’s, take that, strip it, build it with shit you find in the backyard…” His wrist rolled as his harmonious voice sang on, lacking even a single stutter as he summarized the movement top to bottom, inside and out, “…So, people would make their own records, sell them in plastic bags, they’d scan and reprint photos to make their own ‘zines. Shit was hard to distribute without tech…”

Much of his dissertation, Koyori hadn’t even found on her own deep dive into the culture. Sure, the anarchist and nihilistic ideologies were well known to pretty much anyone who would listen, but the deep history and connection between communities was far beyond the surface scratched into.

“There’s a crowd of sub-genres now. Fuck ‘punk is dead’ what even is that bull shit?” Sukuna scoffed, jerking his chiseled chin to the side, “Only thing that’s dead here is – ironically – peoples drive to change.”

His interviewer sat in silence for a moment, mind spinning. He spoke in the way a well-educated University professor gave a dissertation to his peers, dripping in confidence from his storm of information. He was articulate despite the fowl language, even including a tie in to modern perception. Excitement curled into the recess of her mind. In a delightful turn of events, expectation and reality didn’t match up.

Koyori leaned forward slightly folding her hands over the arm of the chair, “That was comprehensive. Thanks!” She chuckled, causing the man before her to freeze and thaw with a nod. She continued, “With all of this mention of D.I.Y. culture in punk, let’s talk about Vivienne Westwood.”

Sukuna kept his attention to her profile as she spoke to the camera, catching himself in the glow of her enthusiasm, “On Kings Road in England, she kickstarted the fashion movement into gear. Now, many would think that with a style such as this, it would’ve been hand-me-downs, pins, self-stitching, but contrary to this belief, many of the clothes in her store were expensive. Knock offs circulated, and seeing as much of it did have that hand-done finishing touch, many decided to take tailoring to their own hands…” Not that this was a competition, but Koyori found herself trying to prove his ‘research’ comment wrong. Her ability to scour and exhaust her resources of fashion history is the furnace that kept her going and Koyori would make it well known that she was not to be challenged.

The approaching lurch of a stalemate stuck to the walls of the vocalist’s stomach. Something he didn’t think he’d feel for a while. Small stuff over here may not’ve known all there was about the cultural history, but he could feel the crashing wave of fascination washing over him as she spoke. Sure, some of it he knew. Some of it he naturally garnered from stylistic preference and others he learned for marketing, however there was just a certain target she aimed for with such precision that he bled a newfound admiration.

“You’ve answered it already, yeah, I know. I saw the interview,” Koyori’s head tilted to the side, pleasant smile hinting at her trick, “but enlighten me for a second about how your natural style transitioned to what it is on stage. We’ll put up some of the photos taken from last night here,” her hand gestured to some empty space, “You basically turned chiaroscuro and made it a performance. It’s obvious in how each member contrasted with themselves and the stage.”

The chick didn’t even know who he was a week ago, yet somehow watched every interview since the start? An answer tumbled from the tongue readily, “Punk is like a renaissance of music. Like I said before, it tore down the foundations of what was before and built something new out of it.” The words were succinct, but as Koyori’s pretty lashes bat, he was goaded into continuing, “Contrast is important. I like art. I like plays. Just ‘cause it’s punk doesn’t mean I can’t have it look aesthetic? Or is that a word only snobby fashion journalists can use now?”

“Hm. Change ‘journalist’ to ‘vocalist’ and you’re a word away from meeting the requirement,” It was a sour candy treat traded for his lemon warhead.

“Ouch. Miss Blog-Spot here has some sass,” His large frame leaned further into the armrest, cheek resting on that fist.

“Mister Eight-Track here is some a–“

The videographer clapped his hands, “We have sponsors, you know. We can at least censor him.”

It was Sukuna’s time to laugh a loud, hyena-like cackle. A large hand smacked his leather-clad knee. Koyori scrunched her nose again, biting back her tongue from childishly jutting out at him.

As soon as the videographer clapped his hands again, she recollected herself, shuffled her papers, and continued on, “From what it looks like, you took a mixture of old and new high-trend brands and added a touch to them to keep with theme. Even now, you’re wearing a Real McCoy with cone spikes embedded. Is that custom made? McCoy isn’t cheap.”

Part of him hated her keen eye, but reveled in her raw talent all the same. “I’m not going to bull shit you and say I dumpster dive for my clothes. I like high quality things. What’s the point in making money if I can’t spend it? What’s a bigger ‘fuck you’ than having your version of a top-brand item being worth more than the original?” With a proud glint in his eye, he rolled the jacket off, sure to make a grand display of strong, bare arms as he did so. The muscle tank he wore was similar to the concert before, white with a pocket, neckline was stretched and worn. It hung over the dense muscle of his shoulders and chest. Sukuna could feel the trail of her eyes on him. His chest puffed from her approval. He threw the jacket over his knee, flipping the leather inside out to show where the studs had been placed, “See this? Did it myself.”

Manicured fingers touched the inside of the jacket, thumbing the connecting points that the studs were pressed in by and sealed. The work was immaculate. Sukuna leaned back, canines gleaming as he saw her mouth move in a silent ‘wow’. He picked the front of his tank top, snapping it up and allowing it to billow back to his body, “Embroidered this, too.”

He waited for her comment, her praise. Why? Like he needed some two-bit Vanderbilt bitch’s validation. He chalked it up to being praised by a master of the craft. He hadn’t been prepared for her to take the fabric between her fingers and rub it, concentrated brows cinched like a corset. Well-toned abs flinched in response to her delicacy, but she didn’t notice.

The embroidery was messy and chaotic, but it was obviously intentionally. The way the needlework was so clean, barely leaving a hole from the pull of the exceptionally soft fabric. It wasn’t floral like in the concert, but abstract stitching created crosses and streaks here and there, using the composition of the fabric as like it were a canvas. Experimentalist. It was like touching the work of Westwood herself.

God, she hated how perfect it was. It squeezed her heart to know that he was so effortlessly multi-talented. She rubbed the fabric between her fingers once more, attention being stolen by his baritone voice. She could practically hear the treble in it, “Ey Princess, you think it’s okay to just touch me?” His breath caught under the arrogant teasing of his words. Not from the words themselves. Couldn’t care less about that. What choked him up was whatever resplendent emotion flared from them when she peered up to him.

“Let me check the tag.”

“What?”

The blogger leaned back, cheekily snapping the shirt as she did so. “Your shirt, can I check the tag? I want to see what its made out of. Also sorry.”

Sukuna blinked twice, mouth stupidly hanging open before he leaned forward, “I’ll allow it.”

He may have tinnitus, but he wasn’t deaf enough yet to miss the mocking ‘I’ll allow it,’ muttered under her breath. He wanted to laugh, but for the second time, the graze of chilled fingertips along his skin shut him up. Along the back of his neck, she fiddled to flip the collar and tug it. Her eyes squinted and a hum escaped her throat. Sometimes she wished she could read upside down. That’s when she sat on the back on the sofa and leaned closer, pulling the shirt to better read the small print. If Sukuna were a cat, he’d lean his head into her. The thought physically bothered him.

“I knew it. It’s American Pima. Thanks for letting me check.”

He missed the shiver her touch gave him as she sat back into her chair.

“While I have more questions for you, this video’s gotten pretty long already, so we’ll have to cut it a bit short here,” She gave a closing statement, motioning for her guest to do the same. With a thanks, the cameras were cut.

While the editor and videographer chatted together, Koyori leaned heavily into the back of her chair, poised posture slipping into something more comfortable. Long lashes slid closed and a heavy drag of breath lifted her chest. Sukuna’s eyes trailed along her form, contemplating Eros once more.

She exhaled sharply, “I do appreciate you coming on stage. It’s disgusting how talented you are.” She laughed, cracking an eye open to meet his, “I prepped a lot of questions thinking you’d be short with me. It’s a shame I only got to ask a few.”

He was surprised himself. It was more than just her talent to make him talk - she may have been the first to see him as an opportunity rather than a commodity. ‘Yami Koyori would be the first and last reporter to see me as a meal’ was the thought he had going into this interview. He had every single intention to shut down her buffet, make it apparent that he was not to be dined on by a single soul. Yet, If his dish were ‘opportunity’, hers would be ‘intrigue’. He wanted to devour it, to know its palette and identify its spices. It was a compulsory urge to order, just to see why he craved it in the first place.

“Film the next few concerts. Backstage.”

tags: @lovesakusa

#🐇.oc #⛩.sukuna #⛩.fic #⛩.punk #🍺.jjk #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna x oc #ryoumen sukuna x oc #jjk x oc #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen fic

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flirting-with-psychology · 3 years

Text

🌸✨WILDFLOWER-APOLLO’S 300 FOLLOWERS SPECIAL✨🌸

LETS GET PERSONAL!

1. what’s your full name?

2. when’s your birthday?

November 26

3. what does your URL mean?

I like psychology and I like thinking about crushes

4. who’s your celebrity crush? T

om Hiddleston

5. are you single or taken?

Taken

6. rant. let it all out babe.

Fuck jobs fuck capitalism

7. are you named after anyone?

My grandmother

8. do you have or want children? if so, how many?

Possibly, if so then 2

9. do you relate to any fictional characters?

Yeah, several. The ones that come to mind are Gatsby and Queen Regina

10. do you have any plants?

Yes

11. what are you currently wearing?

A jumper

12. describe your aesthetic in emojis.

I’m on my laptop lol, not gonna try to do a survey on my phone

13. do you have any bad habits?

Oh yes. Procrasting, instant gratification, being late, eating like crap, obsessing over stuff

14. what’s your sexuality?

Mostly straight

15. what’s the last song you sang?

Currently singing The Rose Song from HSMTMTS

16. what are your favorite colors?

Pink, green, blue

17. are you and introvert, ambivert, or extrovert?

Ambivert

18. describe your current mood in emojis.

Again, laptop

19. is there anyone you’d do anything for?

Probably not anything

20. what fascinates you?

Random stuff, currently chemistry, music, crafts, and space

21. favorite artists?

Taylor Swift, Olivia Rodrigo

22. what outfit makes you feel confident?

Fancy dresses

23. favorite flower?

Idk

24. favorite season?

Fall

25. favorite tv show/movie?

TV show: Friends. Movie: Back to the Future

26. what do you like in a person?

Sense of humor, easy to talk to, common interests, attractive

27. least favorite color?

Idk maybe like muddy yellow

28. first crush?

Aidan in kindergarten

29. how long do you usually sleep?

When I don’t set an alarm, till like 1pm

30. what celebrity do people say you look like?

None really. I think I look like Lea Michele but I’m probably not that pretty

31. favorite scent?

Citrus

32. do you have/want any pets? if so, how many?

I don’t have any currently, I have had 4 cats and I want to get another cat

33. what color is your hair naturally? if you could dye it any color, what would it be?

Brown, I want to try a red ombre

34. do you have a good relationship with your parents?

Pretty good

35. do you take a yearly vacation?

36. what is your biggest fear?

Spiders

37. what do you wear to bed?

PJs or a nightgown

38. best memory?

Idk

39. best feeling you’ve ever experienced?

Probably when everyone liked my video or jokes, or when a crush likes me back

40. best gift you’ve ever received?

Half of the cost of my car

41. what’s your skincare routine?

Wash it once a day, rinse face twice a day, moisturize

42. favorite book?

Harry Potter

43. favorite song?

All Too Well by Taylor Swift

44. favorite album?

It changes a lot, currently Sour by Olivia Rodrigo

45. share your playlist or a playlist you love!

Nah

46. dream destination?

I’d like to visit Ireland

47. best subject? favorite subject, least favorite?

Best was probably math, favorites were science and arts, least favorite was english

48. do you prefer baggy, loose, or tight clothes?

Semi-loose but with some form

49. punk or pastel?

Pastel

50. search your name + core on pinterest & make a moodboard!

Nah

51. if you could travel back to any time period, what would it be & why?

Medieval because i think it’s cool

52. do you have any piercings?

Just my ears

53. do you have any tattoos?

54. do you have any siblings?

55. are your parents together or divorced?

Divorced

56. do you have any stepparents or step-siblings?

57. are your parents strict?

My mom was kinda

58. do you have a set bedtime?

No lol

59. what state do you live in?

Colorado

60. what are your sun, moon, & rising signs?

Idk, I just know I’m a sagittarius

61. do you share any traits with your signs?

Idk, they’re pretty generic so that everyone feels like it describes them

62. what’s a song that gets you going?

Depends on my mood

63. sweet or sour?

Sweet

64. soft or hard tacos?

Idk, I don’t eat tacos too much

65. what color are your bedroom walls?

Pink and green

66. the color/design of your bedsheets?

Turquoise

67. favorite thing to drink out of?

A glass

68. socks or bare feet around the house?

Bare feet

69. favorite board game?

Lately Dead of Winter

70. favorite video games?

Among Us, Detroit Become Human

71. do you sleep with the fan on or off?

72. do you sing in the shower?

Yes

73. favorite song to belt at the top of your lungs when alone?

Satisfied from Hamilton

74. last thing you cried to?

Being stressed over job hunting

75. have you tried any alcoholic beverage before?

Yes

76. gum or breath mints?

Gum

77. favorite pair of shoes you own?

The pink wedges

78. how many pairs of shoes do you own?

Way too many, probably like 30 at least

79. what is the natural state of your hair?

A little wavy

80. have you had braces? if yes, how long?

Yes, for 4 years

81. makeup or natural?

Makeup

82. are you a competitive person?

I can be

83. favorite pasta dish?

Pasta with cheese

84. favorite kind of chips?

Ruffles cheddar and sour cream

85. talk about something your passionate about!

Idk if I’m passionate abot anything

86. what are some of your hobbies?

Crafts, DnD, shopping

87. do you drink coffee? if so, how do you like it?

88. favorite kind of pizza?

White pizza with pineapple

89. favorite & least favorite labels that have been put on you?

Idk what labels have been put on me

90. are you religious?

91. were you raise religious?

Not really

92. what shoe size do you wear?

7.5-8

93. heroes or villains?

Depends on the character

94. favorite vegetable?

Corn

95. least favorite vegetable?

Broccoli probably

96. favorite dessert?

Chocolate

97. do you play any sports?

98. can you swim? if so, when did you learn how to?

Yes, when I was little

99. tell a funny story!

Idk

100. what job would you be terrible at?

Doctor or politician

101. what’s your favorite compliment to give?

Compliment their clothing or accessories

102. has your opinion changed on something recently?

I’m evaluating my opinion on how cautious I need to be for covid

103. favorite physical feature about yourself?

Maybe eyes

104. what’s your favorite physical feature about someone else?

I look most at faces

105. what’s something you would rate 10/10?

Galavant

106. heels or flats?

Heels

107. what’s something you had more knowledge about?

Does this mean wish you had? If so then chemistry

108. would you want to be famous?

I’d want to maybe be known by name but not by face

109. what’s something you would get arrested for?

Pirating TV shows

110. are you a planner or spontaneous person?

A mix

111. what do you hope never changes?

Being friends with my best friends

112. what are your pronouns?

She/her

113. are you a feminist?

For the most part

114. what’s your hogwarts house?

Hufflepuff

115. myers briggs personality type?

Idk, it changes every time

116. who’s your favorite superhero?

Idk maybe Thor

117. favorite villain?

Loki

118. marvel or dc?

Marvel

119. what’s an assumption everyone makes about you that’s not 100% true?

In school people thought I was bookish and didn’t care about parties or boys or that kind of stuff, and now that I’m out of school people think I’m ditzy and probably not that smart

120. favorite bands?

Taylor Swift

121. if you could meet one celebrity, who & why?

Taylor Swift because I like her music and I think we would get along

122. have you watched porn before?

A little

123. favorite disney movie?

Hercules, Aladdin, or Tangled

124. favorite disney princess?

Rapunzel

125. favorite disney prince?

Hercules or Aladdin

126. favorite disney couple?

Rapunzel and Eugene

127. star wars or star trek?

Star Wars

128. top five movies?

Back to the Future, Confessions of a Shopaholic, Timer, The Imitation Game, Tangled

129. top five songs?

All Too Well, In a Crowd of Thousands, Traitor, Me and the Sky, Satisfied

130. top five ships?

Idk. Currently I’m enjoying Gina and EJ from HSMTMTS

131. how gay are you?

Just a little bit, I have occasional crushes on girls but I don’t think I’d want to date a girl

132. scream. just let it out.

133. do you have a best friend?

Yeah

134. call or text?

text

135. what’s a song that’s been stuck in your head recently?

A lot of Olivia Rodrigo songs

136. is there a song stuck in your head right now?

Just the songs I’m listening to

137. what song(s) will you always love?

A lot of Taylor Swift and showtunes

138. what song is your current mood?

Idk, I just feel like singing

139. recommend an artist!

The girl who plays Ashlyn from HSMTMTS

140. favorite meme song?

They’re Taking the Hobbits to Isengard

141. a song you hate that everyone loves?

I Like It by Cardi B

142. an artist you refuse to listen to?

Most rappers

143. what’s you “big gay mood” song?

Idk, I Kissed a Girl?

144. favorite lyrics?

“You call me up again just to break me like a promise / So casually cruel in the name of being honest” from All Too Well

145. what lyrics would you get tattooed on any part of your body?

I wouldn’t

146. shuffle your music & share the result!

Knowing Me, Knowing You by Abba

147. what’s your favorite love song?

In a Crowd of Thousands

148. ultimate song to clean to?

Through the Fire and the Flames by Dragonforce

149. if you could collaborate with one musician, who & why?

Taylor Swift because she gets me

150. what song makes you cry?

Soon You’ll Get Better by Taylor Swift

151. what would be your theme song?

Blank Space

152. what’s a strange phobia you have?

Spiders aren’t that strange, so fear of having accidentally shoplifted

153. did you have an emo phase?

154. did you have a greek mythology phase?

Just a little

155. roman or greek mythology?

Greek

156. who’s your godly parent & which god/goddess are you?

Idk

157. how do you handle your anger?

Yell, slam things

158. most attractive singer of the opposite gender?

Ramin Karimloo

159. most attractive singer of the same gender?

Hayden Panettiere

160. what time is it?

12:03am

161. do you have any nicknames?

Star

162. what’s a song that always makes you happy whenever you hear it?

In a Crowd of Thousands

163. which swear word do you use the most!

Fuck

164. five ways to win your heart?

Sense of humor, sing duets, do creative stuff, tease me, pay attention to me

165. five pet peeves?

Mouth sounds, people who think strong female characters can’t have love interests, people giving me unsolicited advice, people wearing their mask under their nose, ghosting

166. do you have trust issues?

Maybe

167. what do you pray about?

I don’t

168. most traumatic experience?

Probably braces

169. what is your dream job?

Idk

170. if you were to be in a musical, which musical, character, & other cast members would you have?

I would love to play Angelica in Hamilton

171. who would play you in a movie about your life?

Lea Michele

172. what’s your favorite thing about your significant other?

Sense of humor

173. favorite fictional character?

Kelsier from Mistborn

174. post a picture of yourself!

Nah

175. what’s your favorite pet name?

I don’t really like generic pet names that much

176. what makes you feel like a horrible person?

Not caring enough about people

177. when did you realize your sexuality?

It was always kind of assumed, but started thinking I might be a little bi a couple years ago

178. when was your first kiss?

When I was 18

179. expose your parents. that’s right. expose them. they deserve it.

My mom is overly cautious and doesn’t know how to pick her battles, my dad is a bit annoying

180. a phrase that breaks your heart?

Depends on the context

181. when did you come out?

I didn’t

182. how did you come out?

I didn’t

183. who knows you’re out?

I’m straight

184. what’s your lucky number?

Idk

185. how tall are you?

5′6″

186. favorite word?

finnicky

187. are you right handed or left handed?

Right handed

188. do you have an accent?

American

189. first word that comes to mind when you hear ‘heart’?

Beat

190. what’s something you’re proud of?

I made a funny meme in the work group chat the other day

191. do you like where you live?

I like the area, but I don’t like living at my dad’s house

192. when you’re older, do you want to move to a different place?

Yeah

193. do you play any instruments?

Clarinet

194. how long is your hair?

To my boobs

195. what’s the meaning of your name?

Star

196. give an unpopular opinion & let your followers attack you or be salty.

People shouldn’t be cancelled for one shitty opinion, and consuming their work doesn’t mean you support all their beliefs or even like them as a person

197. do you support the lgbtq+ community?

Yes

198. who were you supporting for the 2020 election?

Biden

199. opinion on abortion?

Pro-choice

200. opinion on the death penalty?

Against it

201. opinion on reverse racism?

It’s not the same

202. post your screen time for this week.

Like all damn week lol

203. have you ever talked to a celebrity?

Yes, I met Channing Tatum and got a picture with him

204. what was your first concert?

Demi Lovato

205. how long do you keep your bra on?

All day

206. what’s your bra size?

36D last time I got one

207. give a tour of your room (video).

nah

208. how many photos are in your camera roll?

2990

209. what is the most recent movie/show you downloaded on disney+?

Phil of the Future

210. do you like documentaries?

Occasionally if it’s an interesting subject, but it’s not my favorite genre

211. what’s your favorite musical?

Wicked

212. who’s your favorite non-broadway actor/ actress?

Benjamin Bonenfant

213. who’s your favorite broadway actor/actress?

Ramin Karimloo

214. what’s the song you’re currently listening to?

A Dancer’s Heart

215. drop your most recent picture!

Nah

216. do you have a record player?

217. how many records do you have?

None

218. show your records!

None to show

219. do you plan on going to college? if so, where?

I went to my state school

220. talk about someone without telling who.

They used to wear light up sneakers

221. talk about something you hate.

I hate tomatoes and everything made out of them

222. have you been to therapy?

Yes

223. what color are your eyes?

Brown

224. what color are your parents’ eyes?

Hazel for my mom, Hazel-green for my dad

225. what color are you significant other’s eyes?

Hazel

226. how old were you when you had your first kiss?

227. do you have a favorite parent?

No, they are good in different ways

228. are your grandparents still alive?

Just my maternal grandma

229. drop 10 songs & let your followers tell you if you have taste or not.

That’s too much work

230. how many followers do you have on twitter & instagram?

Like 3 probably lol

231. are you the eldest, middle, or youngest sibling?

Only child

232. do you have a specific daytime routine?

Work

233. how often do you go to the doctor’s?

When I need to

234. have you had any surgeries?

Yes, for my canine and wisdom teeth, and to get part of my thyroid removed

235. do you wear glasses?

Yes

236. do you prefer unsweetened iced tea or sweetened iced tea?

Sweetened

237. do you have a “type”?

Yes lol. I like a lot of types but my “type” that I fall for a lot is light skin, dark hair, blue eyes, "golden boy”/big personality

238. what’s your significant other’s astrology sign?

I think Sagittarius

239. drop 5 blogs you love.

Idk

240. do you think you’re like any celebrity (personality wise)?

Maybe Taylor Swift in some ways

241. are you a “popular kid”?

242. what are your school’s colors?

Black and gold

243. what’s your school’s mascot?

Buffalo

244. how many irl friends do you have?

Idk

245. who was your least favorite teacher?

My camera workshop instructor

246. favorite teacher?

My 7th grade math teacher, my freshman year words and music professor, and my junior year film professor

247. drop a picture of your closet.

Nah

248. how many awards do you have?

Idk, a handful

249. what’s one award you’re proud of?

The dean’s list

250. do you take naps?

I try not to

251. what’s something people always ask you when you first meet?

What’s your name?

252. favorite fast food restaurant?

McDonalds or Wendy’s

253. favorite place to dine in?

Rueben’s

254. mexican or chinese food?

Mexican

255. chinese or japanese food?

Chinese

256. mexican or japanese food?

Mexican

257. olive garden’s breadsticks or texas roadhouse’s yeast rolls?

Breadsticks

258. garlic bread or breadsticks?

Garlic bread

259. plain garlic bread or cheesy garlic bread?

Depends on my mood

260. chicken or steak?

Chicken

261. favorite meal?

Pasta

262. drop a recipe!

I don’t really cook

263. how do you like your steak cooked?

I don’t

264. what would your last meal be?

Pasta

265. are you allergic to anything?

Beeswax I think

266. cats or dogs?

Cats but I like both

267. favorite genre of music?

Showtunes

268. favorite fan fic trope?

Fake dating probably or needing each other for survival

269. favorite tv show genre?

Sci-fi or sitcom

270. what’s your favorite cover/cover a band or artist has or should do?

Disturbed cover of The Sound of Silence

271. how often do you write songs?

I haven’t since I was a kid

272. how many finished songs do you have?

Idk like 5

273. do you write your songs in your notes or in a journal?

I just came up with them

274. how long have you been writing?

I don’t really write

275. how long have you had your account?

Since like 2013 or 14

276. what was your first URL?

shineslikestars17

277. if you could change your name, what would it be?

Star

278. what would you like to name your children?

Shane or Eric for a boy, Phoenix for a girl

279. what are your parents’ & sibling’s names?

I don’t have siblings, I don’t feel like sharing my parents names

280. are your parents democratic or republican?

Democrativ

281. do you have more in common with your mom or dad?

Both in different ways

282. are you & your siblings close?

I don’t have any

283. how close are you and your siblings in age?

I don’t have any

284. are any of your siblings married?

I dont have any

285. do you have any nieces or nephews?

286. do your parents have any siblings?

My mom has a sister and my dad has a brother

287. do you have any cousins?

Yes

288. do you look more like your mom or dad?

Both

289. how old were you when you started your period?

13 I think

290. have you lost your virginity?

Yes

291. who took your concert virginity?

My what?

292. who took your musical virginity?

My what?

293. scream again. everyone needs to.

294. do you have any collections?

Kinda, lately I’ve been collecting dice

295. what’s on your nightstand?

Water, lotion, advil, phones, chapstick, purell

296. how do you usually style your hair?

Down or ponytail

297. do you play games on your phone?

Sometimes

298. are you hydrated?

Yes

299. have you breathed enough today?

I assume so since I am still conscious

300. are you thankful for anything?

I know I have a lot of privilege

#survey #long post

4 notes · View notes

dallonm-archive · 3 years

Note

Hi! I love ur WIP oh revelations revelations, and I was wondering if you could give ur characters physical descriptions?

hi thank you so much!!! not gonna lie i ~suck~ at character descriptions (really I’m just not confident in them) and the ones I do aren’t overtly detailed and feed a lot more into showing their personality combines with appearance. Plus as a reader I will create my own image in my head if I don’t get something from the author lmao. So this will just be some rambles with some picrews and IRL photos (I don’t do official faceclaims and will get into that, but I do use some to help visualise what’s in my head), and also fashion because I love fashion and I love 80s fashion and I have to stop myself from writing 389424 outfit descriptions <3 feat. some barely edited prose!!

only doing the “main five” (are they truly the only main characters? I have no self control <3) because I lose track of which characters I’ve talked about so this is far from all the cast! And picrew/photo limitations mean these aren’t how exactly they look but it gives you an idea! Also I wrote this out and then lost it t w i c e :) Here are the two picrews I used: x x

Beau

My KING. It’s kinda funny to me because his description comes from the POV of a man who’s going to fall in love with him so whilst it’s not like “oh my god he’s so hot” I feel like you can DEFINITELY tell there’s something there. Beau and Felix aren’t exactly a slow burn couple lmao

Beau mirrors his mother. Same complexion, same smile, the only difference is his eyes are lighter and his curls are wilder, one absentmindedly coiled around his index. He wears a pistachio coloured button up with palm tree prints, oversized. A necklace with a shell charm, a brown beaded bracelet. He still grins at Felix, charmingly, as he continues to ramble about the music. Beau is effortless. He swims in the San Francisco colours.

This picrew captures him pretty well although I wish they had a facial hair option as he does have a bit of stubble

It’s all about the curls! He has a head full of them and they’re my favourite thing about him. This is a good example of where I don’t have a faceclaim but I do have pictures of a model that help visualise what I see: these pictures of Miles Frank were the first that resembled what I saw in my head, but only these two resemble him lmao. He’s not his faceclaim. Again, it’s all about the curls! (and the leather jacket)

He kinda has an athletic build not not overtly? Like he’s not muscular but he used to do a lot of sport as a teenager and he’s 100% the type of person who wakes with the sunrise to go on runs. Cannot relate but good for him! He’s around 5′10/5′11

Style is definitely important for his self expression but he also values comfort over fashion. It’s all about the oversized printed button ups (I found one in a thrift store that looks EXACTLY like the one in the description and I didn’t buy it I’m so mad!!! I failed both Beau and the queer community in that moment). He will wear All The Colours but he especially likes greens and pinks/reds. Leather jacket is a staple when the weather allows it.

He also loves jewellery, especially bracelets, especially homemade bracelets. 100% makes friendship bracelets.

Dorothy and Felix

I’ll put these two together because they’re not identical but like, they are twins lmao. Life hack: if you hate description for the POV character give them a twin and make them lowkey hate each other so you can ~compare~

Brother and sister. Born minutes apart on a dreary January night that wheezed rain. Bundled in identical bloodstained blankets, porcelain limbs and faces indistinguishable - but as they grow, the mirror their reflections share starts to crack. Dorothy grows taller, then Felix overtakes at 16. Dorothy’s features soften, but she grows a glare that digs deeper than Felix’s ever could. Dorothy aims for the moon; Felix accepts that he’ll never leave. Dorothy maps out a survival plan for the outside world; Felix maps out how he’ll work for the Church. But they still share the cinnamon hair, the freckles peppering their nose and cheeks, the grey-blue irises and heavy eyelids. They grew into different people with the same face made of different stitching, the same blood infected with different sin.

Dorothy is the only one who kinda has a faceclaim but not really? I struggle with faceclaims beyond inspo/resemblance because like I said, I don’t have the most exact image in my head but I am still very picky so I can look at a pic and immediately be like YES or NO lmao. But also, an issue I have is that a lot of faceclaims come from models/actors; I have no issue with pretty characters (I would call mine pretty lmao but it’s never like. a character trait), but there is that element of conventional attractiveness as well as editing/posing/lighting for professionally shot photos. That’s just me personally though, love them for helping visualise ideas! Since Dorothy was really difficult to get an image of, a “faceclaim” really helped. I made her after Felix so her only descriptor was “brown hair like her brother, similar facial features”, until I saw these pictures of Jane Birkin from the 60s. Again, not an official faceclaim (Dorothy isn’t as skinny as her), but that was where I first got an image of her as an individual character and was definitely the foundation. Her hair looks exactly like that!

She doesn’t really wear makeup, it’s not a statement or anything I just don’t think it suits her haha. 100% wears astronomy themed jewellery though

Her favourite colours to wear are red and violet. I’d describe her fashion as quite casual and flowy? She loves blouses, especially ones with floral prints. 100% rocks double denim (we are pro double denim here). I’d say her style is also more 70s inspired than 80s

She’s 5′9 which makes me 😳

I first made Felix because of a picture of Luke Powell, and I have to laugh because he is SUCH a common faceclaim on Pinterest but also suddenly I was just like ??? NO???? I held onto him as a FC for way too long when they don’t really look alike

Fluffy hair! Floppy hair! This isn’t canon in the book yet because I’m not sure how to present it beyond a bunch of hair descriptions, but I can see his hair being much shorter whilst he’s still in the cult and then he slowly grows its out (not much longer, just messier and unkept until its like the picrew) - again I have no idea how to show it in prose but I think in a movie/TV Series that’d be a cool way to show passing of time but also him settling into his identity. If he wasn’t a coward he’d grow it to mullet length

He and Beau are similar heights - 5′10/5′11. I love height differences in couples but I don’t think that suits them? They’re more likely to argue over who’s the taller one because the inch or so difference is so subtle they can’t even tell LMAO

I know this man just has the ugliest fashion taste but like in good way? Like you know when you see a sweater in the store and you’re like that’s so UGLY I need it? 100% owns both of these:

I think he’d wear a lot of yellows/oranges/browns but also blues. Would love a brown corduroy or bomber jacket, or dark/moss green??

Jolie

The way she was LITERALLY meant to be the main antagonist and then I was like wait but she’s hot lol. Jolie is a very interesting character to me - she won’t be in the next update but she’ll be talked about a lot in the one after 👁️ (Not obvious in the excerpt but the idea is Dorothy’s listing the “colours” of Jolie)

High waisted, baggy jeans distressed at the knee; matching denim jacket rolled up to the elbow. Faded blue. Cheap band print shirt. Blondie. Kitchen scissor-cut fringe. Bleached – originally chestnut. Chipped nails. Cherry lacquer. Round glasses with scotch tape around the bridge. Silver. Triangular face, straight nose. Pale. No makeup besides red lips. Whatever the cheapest red shade at the drugstore was in 1984. Combat boots with heels nobody else would travel in, but Jolie would. Leather black. 5’2. She smiles at Dorothy with her teeth. Lipstick stains her incisors.

Jolie’s been the hardest to nail appearance wise and it honestly this picrew is the only thing that visualises what’s in my head.

At 5′3 she’s the shortest out of these five. She’s plus sized, which is another thing I find a lot of picrews don’t show very well unfortunately

She bleaches her hair just before we meet her in the book, and later on we see her cut her hair into a messy mullet style, before that it was shoulder-length. Would never pay for a haircut because hairdressers cannot give her what she wants

A lot of her style is a blend between masculine and feminine. She has a very complicated relationship with her gender identity which she navigates through her expression but she does embrace some elements of femininity, although to her it’s redefined to suit her perception of it. Her style is very similar to Jamie’s from Bly Manor. I think she’d also be influenced by punk and rock fashion.

She’s a gardener and it shows, definitely the type to tuck a little flower behind her ear.

Isaias

No character description for him because I scrapped and am currently rewriting the whole chapter where he’s introduced so :( but I will make sure to include it in the next writing update! I love him, he has such pleasant vibes

There is one picture that is very similar to how I see him, especially because the person in it is wearing a denim jacket and an oversized denim jacket is an Isaias STAPLE. The only problem is the photo is in black and white, also I’d like to see him smile.

I’ve been struggling to nail his hair but the picrew shows it quite well, albeit in a cartoon style. It’s all about the long side part

Besides the denim jacket he wears a lot of turtlenecks when the weather allows it, otherwise he’s a big fan of dress shirts. Loves to wear deep blues and purples. Depending on the weather, he’d also layer up with two jackets over a dress shirt. On the flip side I can see him wearing a pastel coloured blazer as well, like lavender? LOVE that.

He’s a pretty average height, not short and not very tall. Around 5′8?

Pretty much always has some kind of bag/backpack with him because he likes to have his notebook on him at All Times.

I’ll stop myself there because this is getting long! Like I said, I don’t have exact images in my head but I do have well, an image lmao. I do like the idea that people can develop their own image in their head too based on what I’ve described so I hope that was interesting! I’d also love to do some art of these guys so I can show better what I see, but unfortunately my tablet is at my dorm and I’m at home and we are on strict lockdown for the foreseeable future :( someday!

#Anonymous #revelations revelations #omg i have to change the tag on all the posts ive made #thank god for xkit

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Case Closed (Part 1/2) - Shalaska - pureCAMP

A/N - So… guess who watched Brooklyn 99 and then decided to… make something…

It was me. I did that.

So, to preface - I made this inspired by (as you’ll see when you read) Jake and Amy, but not entirely because I like to make my own characters. Anyway, here’s the one where the gang are detectives.

(Also, this will be submitted in two parts consecutively. It was intended to be a oneshot, but it’s… you know… 18.5k words. I really don’t know either. Happy quarantine and much love to any key workers, affected students or teachers out there <3

It was a perfectly normal day in the precinct and Alaska was forty minutes late to work.

In some of her previous jobs, such as waitressing in that horrible little restaurant or working as a store clerk as a teenager, being forty minutes late would almost certainly mean being fired. However, Alaska revelled in the fact that she would most definitely not be fired for her tardiness, and she grinned proudly as she was met with polite applause.

The gentleman who she led in with cuffs behind her didn’t seem quite so receptive to her hero’s welcome.

“Check out this punk,” Alaska announced to the room. “Busted with two hundred kilos of cocaine in his storage unit and found to be the asshole behind that huge drug ring we’ve been tracking. Proud of yourself, bud?”

As expected, her roughed-up drug dealer said nothing, staring fixedly at his reflection in the handcuffs.

“Good work, Detective Thunder.” Captain Tidicue nodded, impressed. “Take him to the holding cell, meeting in five minutes in the break room. Dismissed.”

It was a perfectly normal day, Alaska’s perp was in the holding cell, and as she stepped into the break room, she bumped shoulders with Jinkx.

“Detective Tsunami.”

“Detective Lightning.”

Jinkx’s smile, as always, seemed to stretch from ear to ear and her lipstick was eerily red. Captain Tidicue had tried a few times to get her to tone down the brightness of her makeup, but eventually she had gotten so fond of Jinkx that she let the matter go entirely. Jinkx seemed to get away with a lot of things in that way, and Alaska loved her for it. As a matter of fact, so did the rest of the squad.

Captain Tidicue closed the door behind them and took her place at the front of the room. There was absolutely nothing extraordinary about a normal morning briefing, even if Alaska had been forty minutes late. That happened sometimes and nobody minded. Everything was normal.

“Good morning everybody. I wanted to let you know that we’ll be welcoming a new detective to our squadron beginning today. She’s experienced and smart and she just moved into the area, I think she’ll be a good addition to our team. I want you all to welcome her.” Tidicue smiled. “I know you will. Let her adapt to our ways, yeah? Make her one of us. Anyway, Detective Needles is on her way now. Dismissed.”

She headed off, leaving the rest of the team to break out into excited discussions, with zero intention of running straight to their desks. Jinkx turned to Alaska with a loud laugh.

“Short, sweet, concise. Never thought I’d see that from a New Yorker.” She quipped.

Alaska chuckled. “Okay, Chicago, calm down.”

“Whatever, Pennsylvania.” Jinkx paused. “Fuck, that isn’t nearly as insulting even though we’re just naming states.”

From across the room, Sergeant Royale beckoned the two of them over, where she was chatting with Detectives Velour, Coulee and Michaels. Inexplicably, Willam, the notoriously work-shy secretary, had also managed to sneak her way in and was perched on the table, right in the midst of the conversation.

“So! New detective, huh? Things are getting exciting round here.” Latrice fought back her laugh as Alaska, rising to the bait despite knowing it had been laid there just to get her, opened her mouth.

“Hey! I literally just busted a massive drug trafficking ring! Is that not exciting?”

The squad laughed, and Alaska acquiesced with a giggle. “But seriously? Detective Needles? Do you think she’s just really good at drug cases or what?”

A new voice appeared suddenly. “Well, yeah. But unfortunately that’s my actual name.”

Alaska whirled around and promptly smashed foreheads with possibly the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. The woman in question reeled backwards slightly and started to rub her head, but offered her hand and a charming smile regardless.

“Detective Needles. Your story is pretty impressive, I’m sorry that my name is stealing your thunder.”

Alaska started to giggle in spite of herself. “Oh my god, this is brilliant. Hi, Detective Needles, I’m Detective Thunder.”

“You’re shitting me. That’s such a fucking cool name.”

“And Needles isn’t?”

“Yours is cooler.”

“No way!” Alaska faced her colleagues again. “Am I really arguing with someone about whose name is cooler and I’m not on my own side? Jinkx, slap me.”

Jinkx raised her hand. “Gladly!”

Before she could deliver what was sure to be an almighty sobering smack, Latrice butted in with a calming hand and her ever-diplomatic ways. “The only way to solve this is by first names. At the same time, go.”

“Alaska.”

“Sharon. Fuck!”

Sharon crossed her arms over her chest as Alaska celebrated her victory. “God, I hate my parents right now. They gave me the most suburban white mom name ever.”

Thus began Alaska’s first triumph over Sharon Needles. Sharon Needles, who was a detective, who would be working a few feet across the room from her now, who was surprisingly tall and with dark curls that really suited her face and eyes that were surprisingly sparkly even though she seemed like she would be quite intimidating in the interrogation room and a leather jacket that made her look so badass and-

Detective Needles made quite a strong impression on that perfectly normal day.

It turned out that Detectives Thunder and Needles worked together like a dream. Alaska called them thick as thieves, once, and Sharon proceeded to double over in incredulous laughter that her partner hadn’t even noticed her own hilariously unintentional joke.

Usually, Captain Tidicue would assign Alaska to work with Jinkx, given the close nature of their friendship, but seeing Sharon’s arrest numbers at a similar rate to Alaska’s, she had decided they could work the case together instead. It was almost like she didn’t know they had an unspoken bet about who was going to get more, and that it was actually a very spoken bet that was being monitored daily by tally marks on the whiteboard and was currently tied.

And she almost definitely did know about the bet, because there was no way Latrice hadn’t told her.

“Okay. I think, when we catch this guy, we both add a point to our list of arrests since we did it together. That cool?”

Sharon laughed. “Ooh, feeling nervous? You want to keep us on an equal playing ground, huh?”

“No, I just don’t wanna hurt your feelings,” She teased, “I know you’re a little sensitive. You need these arrests to make you feel cool.”

“I’m already cool.”

Alaska snorted. “Right, sure. I did some sneaky detective work and found out your favourite show is Jeopardy.”

Sharon frowned at her, the mirth evident behind her eyes. “You mean, you followed my Twitter? Also, Jeopardy is a great show, and if I was straight, I’d go for Alex Trebek in a heartbeat.”

They were nestled in a discreet car to help them blend into the city, dressed casually to avoid arousing suspicion. When Sharon rocked up in leopard print and leather, Alaska had first mercilessly mocked her before admitting that she was highly impressed by the choice of attire, and wished her jeans were quite as bold. Naturally, Sharon gave as good as she got.

Still, they had been getting bored waiting for their suspect to turn up around town, and had taken to mindless conversation. It was beginning to get… interesting.

“Alex Trebek?! Sharon, he’s like ninety.”

“He’s seventy nine!” Sharon shrugged, and then chuckled and conceded. “He’s a total zaddy, okay, you wouldn’t get it. Anyway, he’s a man so I’m not actually into him, and no one will believe that I told you this so you have zero leverage.”

Alaska leant back in her chair, keeping her eyes on the street. “Well, if you can hold that against me, I can do that too. I used to be terrified of Marilyn Manson as a child, but then when I was a preteen - so before I was gay - I had a crush on him. There. Something no one will believe.”

Sharon gasped. “You monster. I’m dying to use that against you!”

“Well, you can’t.”

“I can’t believe you’re aroused by scary people. Do you jack it to Freddy Kreuger or something?”

“This is getting weird.”

“Agreed.” Sharon held up her hands. “In all fairness, you took it there, not me. So, we should quickly go over the plan because the asshole just turned up for his shift at the store, fifteen minutes after it should’ve started.”

She pointed. A tall, balding white man was entering the run-down convenience store, his bright employee vest halfheartedly tucked into his baggy trousers. Alaska looked down at their case file and nodded.

“Alright. Darren Jones, you’re going down. Sharon, tell me your fake name and invent a story to go with it, I like a bit of storytelling. Adds some pizazz to the case.”

Sharon rolled her eyes and giggled. “You’re the world’s most immature detective. We don’t need to go undercover for this.”

Alaska raised an eyebrow. “It’s fun, Needles. Much more fun than watching episodes of Jeopardy.”

“Rude, but fine. My name is Sarah Anne Jefferson and I’m visiting from Iowa, I have an addiction to cigarettes and I need the store clerk to search all the way at the back of the shelf for the good ones, because I may be desperate but I’m still picky and that bullshit fake excuse means he’ll have to face away from us so we can surround him. I also happen to be very conversational and may casually ask him about his weekend during my rambling about my dumb boyfriend Brad, who’s from California.”

Alaska shuddered, snapping the case file shut. “I don’t know what’s worse, California or Iowa. Gross.”

Sharon winked, and Alaska maybe found it a little bit hot. “Iowa. I grew up there, it’s terrible. The town I lived in is famous for dryers and meth. A great combo.”

“I’d argue California is still worse.”

“You’re right.” Sharon undid her seatbelt. “Okay. Detective Thunder, you’re heading to the back of the store so that you can search for the milk and sneak round so we got him on both sides and he can’t run. You ready?”

Alaska winked back. “Born ready, baby.”

So what if Alaska became a detective just to pretend she was one of those badass cops from a movie? It was worth it - she could protect civilians, take down bad guys and pretend to be a cool movie cop, all at the same time.

She browsed the store idly, waiting until she heard Sharon enter the store and began listening for her cue. Darren Jones was connected to a series of robberies around the area, and despite his penchant for breaking into places without witnesses, the guy was a total dunce. Each of his crime scenes had several valuable items stolen, all of which had been recovered in his apartment earlier that day, and he was stupid enough to leave fingerprints all over the items and the crime scene.

He was a terribly unskilled criminal, that was for sure. Whilst Alaska loved cracking the difficult cases, this one had been pretty fun. It was like watching a child blundering their way through college. He had no idea what he was doing, and it was an easy arrest.

“Hi there! My name’s Sarah Anne, sweetie, y’all got cigarettes in here? Oh, perfect, thank you so much. Listen, I know this is an odd request, but do you mind digging for the ones at the back of the top shelf? They’re always better when the air can’t get to ‘em, you know?”

Alaska held her breath, fighting not to laugh as Sharon exaggerated her Iowan accent. There was nothing… objectively funny about the accent, just that fact that it was Sharon’s but stronger and the fact that Sharon seemed to work so hard to convince everyone of how much she loved Pittsburgh when she had lived there. She almost always sounded like she was born there, except for now.

Nobody else would find it funny. But Alaska knew her and Sharon would laugh about it later, because they had great banter and no one else could stop them. She crept further along the aisles, inching closer to the cashier desk, listening.

“-asshole boyfriend Brett convinced me to smoke them like that years ago and I always do now. He was here all weekend, driving me nuts. Did you get busy this weekend?”

Alaska readied herself, the signal having been sent. The idiot cashier/criminal kept his back turned as he responded, allowing Alaska to position herself behind him on the other side of Sharon.

“Oh, not really, just hung out at home…”

He trailed off when he saw their police badges glinting in his direction.

“NYPD, you’re under arrest for three robberies. Darren Jones, you did have a busy weekend, huh?”

It was highly unprofessional, but Alaska still offered a high-five on the way back to the car, dragging the cuffed Darren behind them, and Sharon still accepted it.

“I thought your asshole boyfriend was Brad? You said Brett.”

“Did I? Oh, I’m cheating on Brett with Brad. They don’t know about each other.”

“Depth! Nice, I love it. Real fleshed out character.”

“Shut up.” Sharon started the car. “So, one more arrest for me since I said the words, so that’s 25 to Needles and 24 to Thunder-”

Immediately, Alaska had to protest. “What?! No, we agreed to split it. A point each, he was an easy one.”

Sharon fiddled with her badge, deep in thought. “Okay, fine. We need some stakes, though.”

“I’m vegetarian.”

“No, not steaks! Stakes!”

“The things you kill vampires with?”

“No! Like, a reason for our bet.” Sharon’s eyes glinted dangerously, and Alaska sucked in an excited breath. “Something that we want from each other. Personally, I want to crush your spirit.”

Alaska nodded. “Alright, nice. I also want to crush your spirit. Maybe we should be more specific.”

An idea started forming in Alaska’s head, and for once it felt like a pretty good one. Naturally, Alaska loved to embarrass and humiliate people, and she loved for people to bring her up in conversation all the time, and her idea would work perfectly for that. Plus, it would be hilarious, particularly for her, and it would make for one hell of a story.

“I got it. However, judging by the slight inclination of your head and the beginnings of a smirk on your face, you’ve got an idea. Hit me with it.”

Predictably, Sharon grinned. “Okay, Detective Alaska Thunder. When I win this bet, you have to watch reruns of Jeopardy with me, and you have to play along. No sitting and saying it’s boring, or dorky-”

“It is dorky.”

“-Didn’t ask - you have to answer questions or rag on the idiots who answer the questions wrong with me. Full involvement, it’s my favourite show.”

As she resisted calling Sharon a dork for the second time (she really was a complete dork beneath her incredible cop/badass persona), Alaska hissed outwardly. She really didn’t want to watch some stupid quiz show, not when there were so many better things on TV these days. For example, Golden Girls reruns.

“Fine.” Alaska smiled. “I think it’s adorable how you used when and not if. So, when I win this bet, you…”

She held her breath for dramatic effect, watching as Sharon playfully rolled her eyes.

“…Will go on a date with me. And it will be the worst date of your life. I will make sure of it.”

Sharon made a disbelieving face. “Yeah, right. I had a date once where the girl spilled her entire glass of red wine onto my dress and then cried for two hours about her ex, who it turned out she had invited to the restaurant so that she could beg her to get back together. Nothing can top that.”

Alaska sucked in a breath. “Oooh. One, that’s terrible, and two, you just set the highest bar for this date and that is going to be your downfall. I will humiliate you, Needles. You just wait and see.”

“You’re on.”

A few weeks passed. Alaska took a considerable lead, and swanned into the precinct every morning with the arrogance level of, according to Captain Tidicue, a peacock who had stumbled into a Las Vegas dressing room. No one had been quite sure about whether that was a compliment or not, judging by her stony, passive face, until it suddenly morphed into a cartoonish grin and they swiftly left the briefing room amid terrified laughter.

Then, Sharon’s arson case took an interesting turn and Alaska watched, green with envy and competitive spirit, as she made six arrests in one day and started closing the gap between them.

“That’s how you do it, Thunder.” Sharon mimed injecting into her forearm, which in hindsight was probably a little inappropriate, but only Alaska saw it, and she didn’t give a shit.

“Do what, Needles? Get a crippling addiction?”

Sharon shrugged. “I guess I’m just addicted to justice, baby. You better start reading up on your trivia.”

She took off with an infuriating amount of swagger, even worse than that of a Las Vegas peacock.

“That was a fucking fantastic line, Alaska.”

“Shut up, Jinkx.”

“Ladies and gentlemen of our squad, no need to be alarmed, but this is just a reminder for Detective Sharon Needles to clear her calendar for our deadline, because she’s looking at a brilliant officer who just took her total up to 41, dwarfing your measly little 37.”

Latrice high-fived Alaska, and Sharon groaned. “Seriously? What the fuck, how?”

“Simple theft case turned murder investigation, naturally. Gang crime. Boom!”

At Detective Michaels’ stern face, she deflated slightly. “Okay. Gang crime and murder isn’t cool nor acceptable to celebrate in the workplace, however, I am winning.”

It was 11pm, which meant that Sharon had definitely missed that night’s Jeopardy episode, and yet Alaska noted that it didn’t even seem like she cared. Maybe that was her professionalism, given that they were on a short stakeout waiting for a drug deal to go down so that they could rush in and arrest the guys, but whatever. She hadn’t even mentioned it, and they had been talking a lot.

Jinkx had been Alaska’s best friend ever since she joined the precinct as a new officer. They had connected so well, and it almost felt like they were easy best friends within a week or two. But it wasn’t quite like that with Sharon.

If anything, it was totally the opposite. They got along extremely well, but it wasn’t the kind of easy-going friendship that she shared with Jinkx, not at all. Of course, they talked personally the same way, and argued and laughed and cooperated the same way, but being around Sharon didn’t feel easy. It felt… exciting, almost. Invigorating.

Perhaps it was the thrill of a new friend, coupled with an exciting job and a fantastic work relationship.

“It’s getting late, I hope this drug deal happens before three in the fucking morning. I’d love to get some sleep tonight.” Alaska groaned, sitting down on a plastic chair beside Sharon. She had perched on an overturned storage container, as apparently the roof of the building they were staked out on didn’t have much in the way of garbage removal.

“We can take shifts, if you like? If it gets real late and we’re exhausted, I mean. I’d happily take first watch.”

Sharon tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and Alaska watched her with a soft smile. “I can’t let you do that, Needles, that’s not fair. But, I did bring snacks, so that should give us some energy. How do you feel about…”

She dug into her bag. “Uh, off-brand chocolate counter things? I hear they’re pretty good… probably.”

In the moonlight, Sharon’s skin looked almost blue, like a nymph. Her quiet giggle was mesmerising after the awkward silence of an abandoned industrial site.

“I won’t turn them down.”

They kept watch, determined not to miss any minor discrepancies that would reveal their perpetrator in the midst of the darkness. All they needed was one damning deal, some incriminating photographs, and they could make their arrest and still get a good night’s sleep.

In the meantime, they had their ways of entertaining themselves. Namely, telling horrific jokes, and attempting to catch chocolate counters in their mouths, at which Sharon was awful.

Yet another victory Alaska could laud over her.

She doubled over in laughter as Sharon kept trying, missing by miles and in turn, collapsing into giggles. Her head was bent at all kinds of strange angles as she kept going, the counters flying everywhere but her mouth, even pinging off the edge of the roof. The closest she came was landing smack on the middle of Sharon’s forehead, which she counted as a win, and Alaska counted as a complete and utter fail.

“I can’t fathom someone being that bad at catching them in your mouth! It’s so easy!” Alaska wheezed. “Look, let me show you.”

Sharon stood up. “Fine, fine, you gotta teach me. As soon as I throw it, I can’t see it anymore! I don’t get your game, Thunder!”

Alaska stood in front of her, close so that Sharon could watch. She quite liked being taller than her partner - it meant Sharon had to look up to her, just like she would be when Alaska won their bet. It must’ve been a humbling feeling, Alaska assumed.

“See? Watch.” She flicked the counter into the air and caught it deftly on her tongue. “Easy. Challenge mode, throw me more than one. Get a good handful or something.”

Sharon’s hand was already reaching into the bag. “You’re never gonna get all these. Nobody’s that good.”

“Try me.”

The handful rained down out of nowhere, and needless to say, Sharon’s cackles of delight made the meagre one counter that she managed to catch seem a little better. A good amount of them had fallen onto her face, anyway, so by Sharon’s standards, that must count as a win.

“I concede, you’re the chocolate champion. Congrats.” Sharon grinned.

Bowing, Alaska offered her most dazzling smile. “Told you I’m amazing.”

“And you have chocolate on your face. Real dignified.”

“Ha! You’re bluffing.”

“No, I’m serious!” Sharon’s eyes sparkled with humour. “Let me get it.”

She closed the tiny gap between them and stepped closer, Alaska again noting the slight height difference between them and how kind and sweet the moonlight made Sharon’s features appear. Her eyebrows furrowed and then relaxed as she reached an admittedly cold hand towards Alaska’s lips. Everything seemed to happen agonisingly slow, as she gently brushed her thumb over the corner of Alaska’s mouth and her expression softened. In the background, Alaska heard a car door shut. She never wanted to take her eyes away from Sharon in the moment, but regrettably found herself doing so.

“I think that’s our guy.”

She sighed, internally cursing herself over and over as they each took a step backwards, Sharon coughing and righting herself with a nod. “Right. Armed and ready?”

Alaska nodded, confused about why she felt so disappointed. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

They caught the guys red-handed. Alaska said the words, so she took credit for the arrests.

Sharon rewrote the scores on the board and blew raspberries at her. Detective Velour suggested that Sharon had sunk to Alaska levels of childishness, to which she received a high-five from most of the other detectives, some laughs of agreement, and one outraged huff followed by a much louder raspberry than Sharon’s had been.

When Alaska got to her desk, Jinkx was already there waiting. She held a case file between her fingers and she tapped her foot impatiently as Alaska sat down and looked at her.

“Tidicue just thanked Sharon for the two of you offering to take that drug stakeout and rejecting the backup offer.”

Alaska shrugged. “That was nice of her.”

Jinkx pressed on. “She seemed a little confused. Almost as if she didn’t know that the two of you volunteered, or that there was a backup team. I didn’t pry, but I saw her face. Just wondering when you were planning on admitting that you like her.”

Something about the accusation made Alaska feel a little hot under the collar. What the hell was Jinkx trying to imply? That she liked Sharon? It made no sense. Alaska took comfort in how absurd it was.

“Of course I like Sharon,” She chose to respond, deliberately ignoring the obvious implication. “She’s a great detective and a good friend. We didn’t need backup, so I didn’t ask for it.”

Inexplicably, Jinkx’s eye roll was almost audible. “Or you were just enjoying your alone time…”

Alaska looked at her screen. Her computer was open and unlocked, as she’d left it, and there was a form that needed filling in before she got started on some of her paperwork that had been piling up on her desk. Really, she needed to get a move on with it all. Jinkx was highly unprofessional for interrupting her. Alaska had never done that to anyone before, of course.

“I have work to do, shut up. It wasn’t alone time, it was a stakeout! We were literally working together, as colleagues.” Alaska sent back an eye roll of her own. “I don’t like Sharon that way, she’s not my type. Don’t make it weird.”

From behind her, someone cleared their throat. Alaska spun in her chair and found Sharon having just approached, tucking her hair behind her ears and smiling awkwardly. “Tidicue said we should split the paperwork. I just came to pick up my half.”

She gathered some of the files from the desk in a few seconds and left with another brief smile. Alaska watched her go, then turned and met eyes with Jinkx, who was nothing if not a picture of smugness.

“See? We’re professionals.” Alaska retorted.

Jinkx shrugged. “Sure. Okay. I believe you. Just putting it out there that you seem so determined to win the bet and make the forfeit the worst date ever, you’re putting a lot of thought into this. But fine, I’ll leave you to it.”

As she slunk away, back to her own desk, Alaska swore she heard Jinkx humming a wedding march.

“Hey, Sharon! Hey, glad I could catch you. I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

The roof had quite the scenic view of the city. It wasn’t particularly high, but it gave a perfect vantage point of everything that Alaska considered essential to make up her home - graffiti, pigeons, dodgy food vendors and an every-man-for-himself attitude wrapped in an aura of grey bleakness. That being said, grimy and dark as it could sometimes be, there was a lot of life and colour and excitement in the city that could always be relied on to keep things interesting. As she joined Sharon by the edge of the brick wall, where she was absent-mindedly tapping off cigarette ash, they watched as passersby went about their days.

“I know you probably overheard a little of what Jinkx was saying to me, which was totally out of line, but I just wanted to make sure that I didn’t hurt your feelings or anything with what I said.”

Sharon looked pensive for a moment, then she took one final drag from her cigarette and stubbed it out before throwing it into the trash. Alaska felt strangely nervous as she waited for a response - apologies and humility were not really her style.

“Oh, it’s fine.” Sharon replied, amused. “I wasn’t hurt. My type isn’t really cocky, arrogant and goofy, so…”

Alaska laughed. “Right! Like, I’m just not into… I mean, you look like a nerdy dork who tried to reinvent herself as a biker chick by just wearing leather. Different personalities.”

“Exactly!” Sharon agreed with a smile. “You’re too blase for my tastes.”

“And you’re really Type A. Too strict for me. I don’t know what Jinkx is seeing, but she should get her eyes checked.”

Sharon giggled. “Alright, I’m going inside. You coming?”

Alaska watched a pigeon chase a man halfway down the street. “In a minute, you go ahead. I’m getting some fresh air.”

So, progress. This was good. Alaska had proved Jinkx wrong, and clarified in no uncertain terms that she didn’t like Sharon and that Sharon didn’t like her. But at the same time… cocky and arrogant. That struck a nerve, somehow. It wasn’t like her nature hadn’t been commented on before - hell, it was open game to everyone in the squad. They all knew that as a detective, and in general, Alaska was pretty lax and carefree and chilled out. But the fact that those qualities made her unattractive in Sharon’s eyes…

It wasn’t like Alaska wanted Sharon to like her, not in that way. It just… stung. It stung, and it had never stung before when others said it.

It was late. The shift was almost over, the clock edging towards midnight, and Alaska overall thought her day had been pretty good. There had been a long, tedious interrogation, but that had kept her entertained for long enough that the rest of the shift was pretty much smooth sailing. She had even had time to harmlessly prank Detective Coulée by covering her computer monitor in googly eyes, during which Latrice, her superior, and Detective Michaels, her moral superior, watched her with disapproving but amused stares.

When Sharon walked in, at two minutes to midnight, her smile lit up the room.

“Thunder, you got a pen? I need to update our arrest numbers.” She asked with a wink.

Alaska shrugged. “I never have a pen, Needles, but I know for a fact that you have one, so I see right through your little power-play.”

Sharon smirked. “Right. Just wanted to make you sweat a little, that’s all.”

She sauntered into the other room, pen in hand. Jinkx got up from her desk and scuttled across to Alaska’s, practically bouncing with excitement. Looking around the room, Alaska noticed that the rest of her colleagues were all watching her with anticipation, knowing what was about to happen. In response, Alaska just offered a grin and held her finger to her lips.

“You’re not gonna tell her?!” Jinkx scream-whispered.

Alaska shrugged again. “She can read, she’s a smart girl. Anyway, I want to hear how she reacts when she-”

“WHAT THE FUCK!”

As the room erupted into laughter, Alaska stood up in the midst of the desks and opened her arms wide. Perfectly on cue, when Sharon stepped out of the briefing room, Jinkx, Sasha and Latrice started releasing party poppers whilst Willam gladly helped Shea unfurl a banner proclaiming Alaska a champion. Detective Michaels, loathe to take part in the childishness of it all but still wanting to offer her support, broke into polite applause.

“Why the fuck is your count one higher than mine? We were tied, I was about to beat you, I-”

Sharon’s eyes fell on the parade and she shook her head. “How?! How?!”

As if rehearsed - although it wasn’t, as Alaska had asked and Captain Tidicue had insisted it would be funnier if it was entirely natural - Tidicue stepped out from her office and shook Alaska’s hand.

“Working with a bunch of children is definitely a challenge, but I enjoyed this little bet. It made two of my best detectives work harder than ever and, Detective Needles, you’ve helped to increase Detective Thunder’s productivity massively. She’s willingly completed paperwork because of you.”

Sharon’s jaw dropped. “But-!”

Alaska’s carefully timed alarm ticked over, and celebratory music cut Sharon’s protest off before it could even start. Deciding to add insult to injury, Alaska performed the most obnoxious victory dance she could think of.

“You see, my dear, dear colleague and close friend, whilst you were out today working your little detective socks off on your case, arresting your one suspect…” Alaska trailed off, leaving the room in gleeful suspense as she wheeled the whiteboard with their scores in, “I put away two guys. And now, since the clock has hit midnight, the bet is over and I have won. Ladies and gentlemen, the amazing Thunder wins again!”

Jinkx joined Alaska’s enthusiastic dance, but they stopped in unison when Alaska held out her hand for silence. “Now, I believe first of all you have a statement to announce?”

If looks could kill, Alaska would have happily died under Sharon’s murderous gaze. “You’re a great detective and you’re hot.”

“Hmm… a little louder. Also, that’s not what I texted you to say, so…”

Sharon shook her head. “I’m not saying it again, nor am I reading your horrendous text. It was scarring enough when I had to read it in my own head.”

Alaska raised her eyebrows in mock sympathy. “Aww. Listen, your terrible date starts now, and our first port of call is for you to do what I say in every humiliating way possible. Would you like a chair?”

“A… chair?”

“To stand on, so everyone can see and hear you.”

This had to be the best day of Alaska’s life. Nothing would compare to the pride and glee that she felt at dragging a plastic chair into the middle of the police station at midnight for Sharon to stand on. Every part of her indignance only made the experience more enjoyable. The rest of the officers rallied around Alaska in a crowd, palpably excited that the bet had finally come to its end.

Sharon read from her phone, and sighed audibly at the content. “I really don’t want to say this.”

“Come on, date-o-mine!” Alaska cajoled her. “Tell everyone what you really think!”

There was a long pause, and then Sharon began speaking in a loud, flat voice. “Attention, everyone! I have… an announcement to make. Alaska Elizabeth Joanne Thunder - that’s really your full name? - is the greatest detective known in this world, and in comparison to her, I am… I am a helpless misguided child. This… wonderful influence on my life will now take me on a date and teach me her mastermind ways.”

She paused and groaned. “I don’t wanna - I also would like to confess to the room the deep and embarrassing nature of my feelings for this heroic woman. She makes my pan- fucking hell I’m not saying that!”

“You can say basement.” Alaska interjected, as unhelpful as possible. “Keep going.”

“She makes my… basement flood, every day. It will be difficult to keep my hands off her tonight. Goodnight everyone.”

The room burst into laughter again, and Sharon stepped down from the chair and whacked Alaska’s arm with a nearby folder. It hurt more than she expected, but something about Sharon’s glare told Alaska to just laugh it off. Instead, she offered a charming smile and handed a plastic bag over.

“Feel free to do your hair however you like, but I’ve packed a beautiful date outfit for you and a lipstick colour that I think will look gorgeous. Meet me out here when you’re done and we’ll head off.”

Naturally, Alaska’s planning for the Worst Date Ever had been meticulous, in possibly the most un-Alaska behaviour of hers ever. Since they had started the bet, she kept track of little bits of information that she could use - things that annoyed Sharon, things that she hated, offhand comments she made that indicated her opinions on things.

For example, she now knew that Sharon hated pink lipstick, claiming it made her look like a man. She thought anything off-shoulder was stupid, and pale colours didn’t flatter her skin tone, and long strappy shoes were dumb because the ties looked weird wrapped around people’s legs.

Her face when she reappeared was something Alaska never wanted to forget.

In the time Sharon had been changing, and likely cursing herself for not winning the bet, Alaska had slipped into something a little nicer in the bathroom too - just a ripped jeans and button-up combo that she would usually wear on a date, which had been made to feel twice as good by Jinkx’s compliments. Alaska suspected her friend was hoping for a romantic connection to blossom on the date, and inwardly laughed at the idea. One, they weren’t into each other like that, and two, this was not the kind of date that would make a girl fall in love.

Sharon emerged with a scowl, but even so, Alaska couldn’t deny that she looked pretty. It was abundantly clear that she hated her outfit from head to toe, which was a great start. In all fairness, the skin-tight pink minidress, off-the-shoulder style with long sleeves, actually looked pretty good on her. It clung to her curves in a somewhat intoxicating way, showcasing a figure that Alaska never knew had been hiding under her detective uniform and leather jackets.

“I look ridiculous.” She sulked. “I hate these shoes, and this lipstick makes me look like a man. Are you happy?”

As soon as the question was out, Sharon rolled her eyes as she predicted Alaska’s gleeful response. “Thrilled.”

Latrice walked past and stopped to marvel at the outfit, before bursting into infectiously loud laughter. “Damn, Needles, I ain’t never seen you dressed like that before! You look like Angelyne!”

Sharon crossed her arms over her chest. “And you’ll never see it again! It suits Angelyne, it doesn’t fucking suit me! Can we get this thing started already?”

Alaska offered her arm, ever the polite, charming date. “Since you spoke so sweetly of me earlier, of course. You’re going to love my date.”

Sharon was not going to love Alaska’s date.

There were very few restaurants that were still open and serving food past midnight, but that was fine - Alaska wasn’t in the mood for a restaurant. What the city had a plethora of, however, was exactly what she wanted. Even in the darkness of the city streets, lit only by street lamps and the jarring white light of the food stalls, Alaska saw Sharon’s face drop.

“Fuck off. No. You can’t do this to me.”

By far, the worst street of the city was the one they stood in, lined as far as the eye could see with various unsanitary or just plain unusual food trucks. Even drunk Alaska knew better than to search for something edible from them after a night out, which meant it was perfect for her terrible date.

“You get to pick!” Alaska beamed. “I’m a great date partner, so it’s up to you. Of course, I’m paying.”

Sharon tugged at her dress and huffed. “Thunder. You can’t be serious. If we eat from any of these places we won’t shit solid for a week. I am not subjecting myself to food poisoning because of you.”

Eventually, they settled on what seemed like a fairly inoffensive option, a small truck selling wraps and burritos. Sharon took about two bites of her ‘vegetarian special’ before spitting it onto the ground, disgusted. It turned out a cold wrap filled with lukewarm lettuce, tomato and sour cream wasn’t the most appetizing meal. Once she’d thrown it away, she leant towards Alaska and playfully barged into her.

“You’re an asshole! I hate this. I hate you.”

Alaska winked. “Oh, you think you hate me, but trust me, things can only get worse from here. I promised you an awful date and I will deliver because I am a woman of my word. Now, how do you feel about mud, loud noises, and smashing vehicles?”

Sharon glanced down. “In these shoes?”

To be completely honest, Alaska didn’t see the problem with lace-up heels. In fact, she thought they looked quite good wrapped around Sharon’s legs. She had nice legs.

“Come on, let’s go.”

To make the date even worse, on the way to a monster truck rally that some dumb kid Sasha had arrested a few weeks ago had mentioned, Alaska chose a ride-share, subjecting Sharon to twenty minutes in a car with a bunch of hammered straight girls. Every five minutes or so, they whooped loudly and demanded the driver play some Dua Lipa.

Sharon looked murderous, but in a sort of amused way. Alaska figured she was surprised at quite how horrific the date was turning out to be. It was quite a shock, really.

It quickly became apparent that the truck rally, however, was a pretty big mistake on Alaska’s part.

Unsurprisingly, it was just as terrible as she had planned it to be - floodlit, loud, dirty, and full of raucous drunk people thriving off destruction and chaos. They were perched on the edge of shaky metal benches, disgusted at the filth of the place.

“This… is disgusting.” Sharon almost seemed impressed. “I thought the food choice was bad, but the activity is so much worse.”

Alaska could barely hear her over the noise, but she nodded. “I told you I’m good.”

Sharon laughed and conceded. “Fuck. Something about this place feels very illegal, and I don’t even know why. I’m just going to ignore my surroundings.”

Behind them, a greasy-looking man wearing a beer-stained vest and sagging jeans clicked his tongue. “Hey, ma, shake that thing on over here. That’s right, I’m talkin’ to you, hot stuff. You look good in that pink.”

Sharon stiffened, and Alaska bit her lip. “I… forgot about the existence of gross men in a place like this.”

In spite of the comment, Sharon cracked a smile. “So caught up in the fun of humiliating me that you forgot about sexism. I love that. We should leave.”

“Fantastic idea.”

Luckily, there was a decent bar not too far from the site of their awful date, so they hastened away from the chaos of the rally as quickly as they could and made their way inside. Alaska reasoned that maybe a good bar would act as a little bit of a reprieve from the bad date and vile comment, and figured she could still ruin it tactfully by ordering the grossest drinks they had available. Straight tequila would do, probably.

“Can we get six shots of tequila? Thanks,” Alaska handed over the money and laughed at Sharon, who sat on the barstool and groaned exaggeratedly loud. “This is what happens when you lose the bet, Needles! Maybe you should be better next time.”

“I tried so hard!” Sharon defended herself, laughing. “I held the lead for at least three weeks in a row! Stupid fucking criminals working alone instead of together.”

When the shots arrived, Alaska barely had a chance to gloat about how horrible it was going to be before Sharon had downed her three, wincing but persisting nevertheless. Alaska quickly caught up, taken aback and tickled by how fast she had knocked them back.

“Listen,” Sharon giggled at Alaska’s stare, “I look dumb, I ate gross street food, went to a fucking monster truck rally and got catcalled. I need to get shitfaced, you succeeded. Your date is terrible.”

Alaska pumped her fist into the air. “Yes! Succeeded and the night is still young! Although I can’t help but feel like the catcalling was my fault because of the outfit, so I will offer a rare Alaska Thunder apology.”

Sharon smirked. “Oh, thanks, I appreciate that. I’d look better in a body bag.”

Checking her phone, Alaska saw that it was just coming up to around two in the morning. She ordered two double whiskeys and winked at Sharon. They still had plenty of time before she would call the date finished and let her go home.

Sharon could hold her alcohol incredibly well, Alaska discovered, but also that she became a heightened and twice as hilarious version of herself the more she drank. Or maybe Alaska just saw it that way, as she matched her drink for drink. She found herself doubled over, howling with laughter at something that one of them had said, with no idea what had been said or by who.

They even danced a little, with drunk Alaska unashamed to show how terribly uncoordinated she was. Sharon was by no means an expert dancer, but drunk Alaska was more than a little open-mouthed and amazed at how close drunk Sharon danced against her. There was hardly space between them to breathe, and Alaska found it difficult to tear her eyes away from Sharon’s hips.

It wasn’t like it mattered anyway… finding someone physically attractive didn’t mean you liked liked them, or wanted to date them or have sex with them or engage in anything other than a friendly professional relationship with them… Jinkx was stupid. There was no such thing as ‘chemistry’ or anything like that. There was just Sharon, who looked good, and Alaska, who had drank a lot, and a dance floor and some loud music, and that was enough.

Alaska didn’t remember when they decided to leave the club, but at some point they had made the decision to. Her phone read four in the morning, not that she could really register that either. The ground was cold and a little bit stony - she looked down and saw she was walking barefoot, holding a pair of heels by their straps, and Sharon was wearing her flats.

Perhaps she’d offered them to her. How kind.

Both girls stumbled down the street, presumably towards the Uber they had probably called that would be arriving in ten minutes or something along those lines. Alaska’s head was swimming, and a bubble of laughter escaped from her for no reason, triggering Sharon to do the same.

She was really kind of beautiful, in the darkness. But that sounded bad - Sharon was pretty in the daylight, and in the moonlight, and through the lens of drunk, smug Alaska. She had successfully created the worst date, and she’d had so much fun.

“This is so fucking fun…” Sharon slurred, wobbling as she clung to Alaska’s arm and laughed. “I’m counting the worms on the street. I’ve seen like five, and they’re all called Joe. They’re my sons now.”

“You’re a mother!” Alaska exclaimed. “How exciting for you! Congratulations!”

She almost tripped, grabbed onto Sharon for balance, and started howling with laughter. “Oooops, I might be a teensy bit drunk.”

“Good! So am I!” Sharon declared proudly. “I’m ha-having so much fun. This is definitely not the worst date ever. I’ve been- I’ve been on worser- more worse - badder dates than this. One time, this girl left me for her ex! At the table! Was fucking bad, Lask. But funny.”

Alaska gasped. “Aww, shit. You told me that! Now I gotta plan a w-worse date?”

Sharon smiled, her expression dopey. “I like hanging out with you! I’ve had so much fun tonight. Also, you’re waaaay pretty! Even though you’re a goof! A goofy goofball dummy head.”

“That’s me, baby!” Alaska puffed her chest out. “OH! I think that’s our car. It is! Let’s go, pretty pretty girl. You’re pretty too. Let’s gooooooo!”

No amount of alcohol was worth the raging headache that Alaska woke up with. Her memories were hazy but nevertheless still there, and as she tried to think back on the events of her night, her head spun. Where did Sharon end up?

The reluctant opening of her eyes soon solved that mystery. Alaska’s bedroom door was wide open, and if she squinted to try and focus her blurry vision, she made out the shape of Sharon’s body passed out asleep on her couch, one arm thrown up in the air and one leg stretched out.

With a groan and an extreme amount of effort, Alaska shifted herself up and into the kitchen, overlooking the living room. She needed coffee and she needed it now. Thank god neither of them had work - there wasn’t a chance in hell that either of them would’ve been able to make it in.

“I feel like Satan’s asscrack right now.” Sharon’s voice came weakly from the couch. “I’m so tired.”

Alaska smiled, though Sharon couldn’t see her from where she was lying. “Coffee? I just brewed some… gonna fucking need it.”

“Oh, please. Black, no sugar, and toss in a Redbull if you got one. I need the caffeine more than I need a steady heart rate.”

Alaska poured the two drinks and brought them into the living room, the two of them laughing weakly at each other in their hungover, exhausted states. She handed over the mug and recalled how her drunken self had dwelled on Sharon being pretty as they walked together.

Sharon’s eyes were puffy and rimmed with smudged black makeup, her lipstick smeared across her cheek but mostly on her hand. Her hair was loose and stuck up wildly from the way she’d slept, not that she seemed to care. As she sipped her coffee, Alaska realised she must have offered her something to sleep in, as the offending pink dress had been discarded halfway across the room, and instead she wore an old Golden Girls t-shirt of Alaska’s. She looked a mess, as they both did.

Alaska was sober, it was daylight, and she still thought Sharon looked beautiful.

Fuck. As much as Alaska hated the thought of it…. Jinkx might’ve been onto something.

Jinkx was onto something.

Her case had suddenly had this amazing new lead, and within a day of hard field work, she had enlisted Alaska to join her for the arrest and taken down a guy she’d been hunting for months. It was obviously an amazing feeling, and as a celebration, she invited her friend over to spend the evening.

It soon became clear that Jinkx had an ulterior motive, because the questions began the moment that Alaska’s second glass of red wine had been refilled.

“So… no work talk tonight, we did a good job. How was your date?”

Alaska rolled her eyes and giggled, feeling relaxed in the comfort of Jinkx’s home. When she’d joined the force, she hadn’t expected to become such good friends with her colleagues, but Jinkx in particular had assumed the position of best friend in no time. Her home was slightly kooky and unusual, but the little touches of her personality made the whole place endearing and safe in Alaska’s eyes. In the soft lighting, a glass of wine down, she found herself more open to talk.

“I thought you said no work chat,” Alaska teased.

Jinkx coughed expectantly. “That wasn’t work and you know it. Spill, bitch.”

“Fine.” Alaska lazily sipped her wine. “I took her out and tried to embarrass her, succeeded, and we ended up having a really good night. Sharon’s pretty fun.”

“You could’ve stopped at pretty.”

Alaska laughed. “Are you sure it’s me you’re trying to imply liking her? You seem into her.”

“Har, har, har,” Jinkx shot Alaska a meaningful look, going as far as to push her glasses further down the bridge of her nose to make eye contact away from the lens. “She’s good looking, of course, but she’s not my type.”

“What makes you think she’s mine?”

Dangerous territory. Alaska still couldn’t shake the thoughts she had woken up sober with after their night out - that Sharon was pretty, even when she looked and felt like death. Sometimes, she’d walk into work in the morning and see that Sharon had tied her hair up or worn something different or just looked the same, and would internally note that she looked nice. It was like all of a sudden she couldn’t not notice her colleague’s appearance.

“The way you look at her.” Jinkx shrugged, matter-of-factly. “You have to admit there’s an element of attraction there.”

Alaska swallowed. She drank some more wine and thought for a moment - it wasn’t like she couldn’t trust Jinkx, but admitting it would feel so humiliating. Still, she supposed, there was a reason they called it liquid courage…

“To be honest, I feel like I’ve been looking at her differently since the date. Nothing happened, but I guess I’d never considered looking at her romantically before that. I mean, why would I?” She stared off into the distance, not quite wanting to look Jinkx in the eye. “She’s obviously pretty. It’s just that… I notice it now, you know? She’s this badass detective and that’s attractive, but then it’s like… she’s also this dork who likes dumb shit and it’s funny to me when she talks about it.”

Alaska’s gaze flickered over to Jinkx, who seemed to be masking her smugness in order to hide her judgement. Her face was so perfectly still that she burst into laughter, prompting Jinkx to do the same.

“I knew you liked her. You give her this look sometimes, I don’t think she ever notices it, but you smile with half of your mouth and then laugh at things she says. Almost subconsciously, I would say.” Jinkx wrinkled her nose and giggled. “I’m a love expert, just saying. I have a PhD in love.”

“You’re so full of shit.” Alaska deadpanned, and then spluttered into laughter. “I can’t keep a straight face. Look, I just… don’t know how to proceed with these new… observations, alright? I wouldn’t make a move on her, it’s not like she sees me the same way.”

Jinkx’s gaze somehow seemed wise, like an owl’s, and knowing. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“Wouldn’t be so sure?” Alaska repeated, confused.

Jinkx got up and started walking into the kitchen, her back to Alaska so she couldn’t read her expression. Dammit, social cues! Alaska was going to go crazy.

“Jinkx, wouldn’t be so sure?”

They texted a lot. Even sometimes at work, when they were only across the room from one another. Alaska would text something dumb that she knew would make Sharon laugh, and watch as she looked down at her desk and then smiled to herself, privately.

No one else got to see those smiles of hers. Just Alaska, who had caused them.

#rpdr fanfiction #purecamp #sharon needles #alaska thunderfuck #shalaska #latrice royale #chad michaels #shea coulee #willam belli #jinkx monsoon #bob the drag queen #case closed #submission #lesbian au

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theonewiththefanfics · 5 years

Text

Limited Space (one-shot)

Synopsys: One room. Two beds. But will both of them be used?

Pairing: Tom Holland x f!Reader; OC!Juliet (Reader’s character’s name)

Genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst, like blink and you’ll miss it

Warnings: like one swear word I think :D

Word count: 3739

“Y/N.” “Yes, Jimmy?” she dramatically flipped her head to the side causing her hair to swish which made everyone laugh a bit at her antics. “When you found out you weren’t going to be in ‘Civil War’ with these guys, and Tony was going to get a new protegee in Spider-Man, what were your thoughts? Did you kinda go up to Kevin Feige and ask if he was replacing you?” “Funnily enough,” Y/N pointed at Tom, “when we first met on the carpet for ‘Civil War’ that was the first thing he said. “Please don’t think I’m replacing you!”" she imitated his London accent though quite badly making everyone chuckle, and Tom had to bite his lip to keep the smile at bay. “If I’m being genuine –“ she continued, “I was just terrified I was gonna be fired. Cause after ‘Age of Ultron’ where it turns out the Hulk took the plane to space and ended up in Sakaar, I thought that’s what would happen to me. And I was pumped,” Y/N emphasized the word, “but like, Mark and I were keeping in non-stop contact while it was leading up to Phase 3 announcements, 'cause neither of us had any idea what was happening to our characters. And when it was announced Hulk would be in 'Ragnarok', yet for me, it was radio silence, and then Spidey flipped into the ‘Civil War’ trailer… I-“ she laughed, “I kinda started sweating.” Robert patted her knee as Y/N made a motion of ‘cooling off’ with her hand. “And then for like two more weeks, there was nothing. Mark knew zip, though that was a smart decision on Marvel's part.” “Is he still not trusted by anyone?” Jimmy chuckled, and Robert rolled his eyes. “Listen,” the legend started, “everyone loves him, and he’s such a kind person. Whenever something slips past those loose lips,” he looked over his tinted glasses at Tom as well, “it’s never from a malicious place. Like those two are just excited and want to share that with the world, but when you stream the first fifteen minutes of the movie on your Instagram… you kinda lose the access to the secrets.” The audience erupted into laughter as did Y/N. She had gone to the 'Ragnarok' premiere to support her friends, and the movie and clearly remembered the woman poking Mark in the back and angrily whispering for him to turn off the Instagram Live that was still going. At the afterparty, for the first twenty minutes, that’s what everyone was talking about. “And what about you, Tom?” Jimmy brought the conversation back on track. “When you found out you’d be in Civil War but had no contact with Y/N or Juliet in this case what was your first thought?” “I was really scared that she’d hate me,” Tom laughed rubbing his neck and looked at Y/N, who waved him off. “ ‘Cause Tony’s and Juliet’s relationship is one of the strongest in the MCU, and now that he’s recruited Peter, I was genuinely terrified. Especially of her fans, like they are passionate about Juliet, which I totally get. I just hoped that she’d be nice and accepting when we did meet and got to work together.”

Y/N rolled her head to the side and looked at Tom. “And am I as scary as you thought I’d be?” “In the mornings, horrifying,” Tom sassed, and Y/N slapped his shoulder with mock hurt on her face while Robert exclaimed a ‘watch it, kid, that’s my daughter! I might be dead, but I’ll come back to haunt your ass.’ “Did you kinda help him fit into the dynamic of everything?” Jimmy continued on, and Y/N looked at Tom. “Not really, no,” she shook her head. “He just fit in so perfectly on his own, that nobody had to do anything. Sure, like helping out with the scenes and advice like that as peers, yeah. But there was no ‘here’s Tom. Now be friends’ kind of a thing. And in the end, I was off in space, and they were kicking Cap’s ass back on Earth.” Someone in the audience hollered a ‘Team Iron Man’ making Robert blow a kiss in the person’s direction. Given how he wasn't with them to promote Marvel anymore and was there for the re:MARS initiative, it was nice for all of them to catch up. “Honestly,” he piped up, “I couldn’t wait for Infinity War and then Endgame, to film with this one, and then see us on the big screen reunited,” he affectionately ruffled Y/N’s hair. “Me too,” she smiled, “though, when we saw Spidey and Iron Man interacting with the Guardians, yet no Juliet, I started to think maybe it was just like a mock scene that wouldn't end up being used. 'Cause by that point, everyone knew she was rolling with the Space Avengers, and maybe it was just to throw everyone off. But filming it was a really amazing experience, ‘cause Juliet hadn’t seen her father for what now,” she looked at Robert for confirmation, “three-four years? And suddenly they meet again, but he has a new protegee and stuff. It was interesting to see how the dynamic would evolve, and how she’d feel about Peter. As evident in the movie – she kinda liked him.” “So, no rivalry between the two of you?” Jimmy motioned with his hand. And Tom placed his head on Y/N’s shoulder making the audience aww. “None whatsoever.” “Good answer,” she patted his head. “I’ve trained you well.” But as everyone laughed, Y/N was completely unaware of how Tom’s heart galloped in his chest from that small touch and show of affection. Fuck, he was in deep.

***

“Ugh,” Y/N groaned putting a hand against her back and stretching, feeling the air between her vertebra pop. “I feel like I could sleep for a week.” Robert gently patted her shoulder. “You and me, kid, but we know we can’t. Chris will kill us if we miss the barbecue.” “Which one?” Tom asked, dropping his suitcase on the floor. “Pratt? Evans? Hemsworth? Pine?” Robert cocked his eyebrow. “Since when did we have Pine?” Tom shrugged his shoulders. “Zoe is slowly collecting all of them. And honestly, I wouldn’t be that surprised if they had some sort of a Chris-convention.” “Chrisvention?” Y/N quirked her eyebrow settling on the arm of the couch. “Chris-con?” Tom offered. She snorted. “That just sounds like crisscross.” Robert rolled his eyes removing his glasses and placing them on the mantlepiece. He had invited the two youngsters to stay with him since they both were like his kids, especially after having known Y/N for almost a decade, and now having taken the young Brit under his wing, he didn’t want the two to sleep in hotels if he could offer the comfort of his own house. “Okay, you two, off to bed,” Robert clapped his hands interrupting the weird conversation they were having and shooed them up the stairs having grabbed Y/N’s suitcase much to her grumbling that she could do it herself. “Now, the other guestroom is under renovation so you’ll be sharing. Two beds, one bathroom, unfortunately. Need you to be up bright and early so we could get to Renner’s. And no funny business!” “Ok, Bobert!” They heard a high-pitched whine of ‘stop calling me that!’ as he retreated before a door closed shut, leaving the two with their eyes rolling and heads shaking. “I swear, he’s such a diva,” Y/N joked bringing her suitcase in and dropping it on top of the bed. “The Marvel fame’s really gotten to his head.” “I know!” Tom exasperated in that same ‘I don’t actually mean it’ tone. “It’s like – chill it, Rob!” Y/N snorted and zipped open her bag pulling out a set of pyjamas consisting of an incredibly old and stained shirt with some shorts. “Rob?” “I know,” he wrinkled his nose. “Regretted that as soon as I said it.” She hummed listening to how Tom unpacked a few of his things and gentle music erupted all around them when he hooked his phone to the speaker. “Any requests, m’lady?” he said in a very much so overly exaggerated British accent which Y/N didn’t think was possible, seeing as he was, well, already British. “Why yes, I do actually,” she spun around, her bag of toiletries pressed against her chest as if it was her palm. “Let it be ‘Bowling for Soup’ – ‘Here’s Your Fricking Song’.” Tom bowed and typed in the name. “As the lady wishes.” With the upbeat track of late 2000s punk-rock, Y/N skipped to the bathroom and started to get ready for the night. Without even thinking the two had engaged in a sing-along, and she even held her toothbrush as a microphone. “I get drunk and you get pissed!” she screamed, and Tom responded, “You start dreaming I don’t exist!” “I say yes, and you say no!” Without missing a beat, he sang, “Like Katy Perry says, you’re Hot and Cold!” “With all the shit that we’ve been through, this the best that I can do!” they sang in unison, Y/N almost choking on her toothpaste. “Can I still get lucky tonight?” Cackling she entered the bedroom and bowed in front of Tom. “The bathroom’s all yours, kind sir.” The pure happiness on Y/N’s face was a sight Tom never wanted to forget. It was just the way her Y/E/C eyes lit up, that sparked his own joy and released a horde of butterflies to trash around his stomach. Venturing away from Y/N he released a shaky breath and looked at himself in the mirror. “Pull yourself together,” Tom muttered to his reflection as if the counterpart could actually take charge and calm him down. The music still played switching from one song to another as he brushed his teeth and washed his face from all the makeup that had been caked on his skin for the show. With satisfaction, Tom watched as the beige and brown colours went down the drain with the running water, freeing him from its confines and bringing back his own face Sure, there were impurities. Acne spots, little pimples pushing to the surface, a scar here or there. Usually, when he was around people without them covered, Tom could feel a bit insecure, as if each and every person had a magnifying glass to their eye and were focusing in on just those things. But with the people he was comfortable with, the people he trusted and loved, there was none of that because more likely than not, he had seen them in that same kind of state. Or in Y/N’s case, with her face covered by a white spot-treatment mask making her look like a weird version of a Dalmatian. She was sat against the bed’s headboard with a book in her lap (her usual state) and sweet melodic music Tom recognized to be the soundtrack for ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ wafted around her. “Getting in the mood?” he asked moving to rest on his own bed, acting as if his heart wasn’t beating a mile a minute. “Kinda,” Y/N muttered through pursed lips. “In the movie, the scene where Tristan and Yvaine are up in the clouds they spent so much more time with the Captain, where in here,” she pointed with her chin to the pages of ‘Stardust’, “it’s barely been two pages, and they’re already off. And his name isn’t even Shakespeare!” “What outrage!” Tom mocked and received a pillow in the face for that, phone dropping to his lap. “Rude much?” he threw it back, but Y/N easily caught it. “Captain Shakespeare is my favourite character!” “And you still have the movie to see him in,” Tom’s eyebrow rose. She had nothing but a groan as her response. Y/N read for a bit more while he distracted himself with social media, but it wasn’t long when she placed a candy wrapper as her bookmark and turned off the bedside lamp. “ ‘Night, Tom,” Y/N yawned and hugged a pillow closer to her chest. “ ‘Night, Y/N,” he replied, watching her relaxed features for a bit, before residing to the night himself. Nothing but the moon and stars twinkled outside, illuminating the bedroom with a pale-ish glow, and while he waited for sleep to claim him, Tom watched Y/N rest, her body cast over with the moonlight making him think she was some sort of a princess from a fairytale under a spell, and the glimmer was showing him the way to break the curse. The dead silence of the night was interrupted by his soft voice uttering her name. “Y/N?” “Yeah?” “Are you awake?” She snorted and turned on her back. “Given how I just responded to you, yeah. I’d say I’m awake.” “I dunno,” Tom chuckled. “You could be sleep talking.” “Then I must be a pretty bomb-ass coherent sleep talker,” he saw her put a hand behind her head. “What’s up?” “I can’t sleep.” "Why not?” “ ‘S just… I dunno… It’s stupid…” “Well, it’s not that stupid if you’re losing sleep over it,” Y/N propped herself on her elbow to get a better look at Tom. Even in the complete darkness, she could distinguish the worry in his face and what seemed to be embarrassment. “I won’t judge.” With one last huff, Tom relented. “It’s just when we were in England doing press, I could go home, and sleep, and Tess always slept next to me. I dunno… I just guess I miss something warm to cuddle next to… told you it was stupid.” “No,” came Y/N’s instant response. “It’s not stupid at all. If you wanna hear something stupid, is that when I first got the role of Juliet, which was my first role like ever, I slept in Evans’s trailer for like three weeks, 'cause he had Dodger with him, and I had forgotten Huks home. Took a while for it to arrive, so I had to improvise.” She saw his eyebrow raise. “Huks?” “It’s a plushie husky. Couldn’t go to sleep without it… in fact, I still have worse sleep if it’s not with me than when it is. So, no. I don’t think missing Tessa or her cuddling with you is a stupid reason to be unable to fall asleep.” Tom just wanted to scream out that it was the most adorable thing ever, and that Y/N had to stop before his heart did, but before he could even mutter that her reason wasn’t stupid either, she managed to speak up first. “Do you maybe wanna sleep next to me? Not in a weird kinda way, just… you know… you said you miss something warm next to you...” “Are you sure? ‘Cause I don’t want you to d-“ “Stop worrying and get under the covers,” Y/N hissed but she was smiling as she did so, waving him to come to her bed. “Though, I do have to warn you – I’m a very violent sleeper,” she said scooting to the side. “How does… that work?” “It means,” she grunted pushing a bit further to the edge and settling down as Tom slipped beneath her bedding, “that I might just, unconsciously kick you, and no matter how far you sleep from me, you’ll end up either on the very edge of the bed or on the floor.” “Also,” Y/N extended a hand, “this is you promising not to sue me for whatever damages my sleeping-self might cause you. A broken nose or a rib – awake me is not at fault.” Tom clasped her hand and sighed. “And here I was getting ready to cash in.” “Sucks to be you then, cause this deal is unbreakable,” she shrugged and gave him one last smile before turning her back to the man and giving a ‘goodnight’. “Goodnight,” Tom muttered to her already softly breathing form, but he himself couldn’t find rest. Although he thought it might actually help him to have something warm to sleep next to, it seemed like his brain was going into overdrive, and his heart was about to collapse. She stirred for a second and rolled over to face him, making his breath hitch. Y/N was so close to him that he wouldn’t even need to stretch his hand to caress her face. “You’re so beautiful,” Tom whispered looking at Y/N’s closed eyes. And unbeknownst to him, her heart almost exploded because although she looked like she was dead asleep, a twitch in her body had jolted her awake, and now she was very much so alert. “I wish I could tell you this while you’re awake… or just in general, I wish I could just grow a pair and do it, but I guess this’ll have to do for the time being. You’re so, so beautiful,” his thumb brushed over her cheekbone, and Y/N had to suppress the hitch of her breath. “And I don’t just mean how you look ‘cause fuck, darling you are a dream… marvellous… but your mind… your heart… the first time we met I thought I’d have a panic attack because you looked at me so softly, I felt my mind go numb and everything just tuned out of focus.” “And then we got to know one another more,” he released a barely-there sigh, but Y/N still heard it, “and I couldn’t help myself. I started to fall for you. You had a boyfriend at the time, so I knew I had zero chances, but it didn’t matter to me. I was giving my heart to you every day bit by bit, and it didn’t even matter if you broke it or not, ‘cause it was already yours to do as you pleased.” Tom released a bitter chuckle, and Y/N could feel him shake his head. “But still somehow I’m too much of a coward and a twat to say how I feel despite it being almost four years, despite both of us being single.” She felt his gaze roam her face and tried her hardest not to flutter her eyelashes. “I guess I’m just too afraid to lose you. In any kind of capacity. I’d rather have you as a friend than not at all… that I couldn’t take…” That was the thought that made his heart clench the most, and tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. One of the biggest fears, when it came to relationships and friendships he had, was, if he told her how he felt, that Y/N would just shove him out of her life completely. So he surrendered himself to loving her from afar. And he let her love him her own way. It was better than nothing. Quickly before they to dropped to the pillow, Tom wiped the tears away and finally settled for the night, the weight pressing on him lifted if only for a moment before it would come crashing down in the morning. But Y/N had other plans. “Do you mean that?” her voice trembled, and Tom’s eyes shot open to see her already looking up at him “Y-Y/N? I thought you were asleep.” “Answer the question, Holland,” she murmured sliding her hand up to the nape of his neck and pulling his face closer. “Do you mean what you said?” “Yes,” the word was a breathless whisper as his forehead now rested on hers. “I mean every. Single. Word. I am in love with you.” And she needed nothing more than to nudge his head away, brush her nose against his and press their lips together. The two practically sagged against one another with relief that the kiss was reciprocated. Y/N’s hands had gently woven to tangle up in Tom’s chocolate locks, both to feel the softness of them and to pull him closer, while one of his palms had settled on her waist and the other was cupping her cheek, his thumb gently stroking the side of her face. But something just had to ruin the mood, and it was Tom’s laughing. “What?” Y/N pulled back annoyed and frustrated because that one kiss was just not enough after almost two years of her own pent up emotions. “Robert said no funny business,” he giggled. Her eyebrow quirked up. “And?” “And this is funny business.” “Oh my god,” she groaned, chuckled and slipped out of the bed. “You’re a literal child.” Smacking a pillow over his face, which Tom easily caught Y/N bounded over to the bed he had been previously occupied and slipped under its covers. “Wait, no, come back!” he whined reaching over the end of the bed, flopping down on his belly with an extended hand. “Please,” and he gave such an adorable pout that it almost broke Y/N, but no. She crossed her arms and put her nose up in the air. “Nope,” she shook her head, but even in the pitch-black darkness, Tom could see the smile she tried to suppress. “You thought it was funny kissing me, so no kisses or cuddles.” “Please?” “No.” “Please?” his voice increased with each syllable. “No.” And then Tom rolled onto his back and pouted, giving Y/N the best puppy-dog eyes in the world. Like if there existed a contest for that kind of a thing, he’d totally get the prize. “Please come back to bed and cuddle with me?” She couldn’t say no anymore. She never could and never will be able to say no, and that’s when a realization hit her – he had Y/N completely wrapped around his finger, but she didn’t mind that. If the kiss and his warm arms wrapping around her waist was what greeted her when she clambered back under the sheets, and his steady heartbeat lulled her to sleep, she didn’t mind being wrapped around his finger at all. And truthfully, with how huge the grin was that spread across Tom’s face as he kissed her forehead ‘goodnight’ this time for real, neither was he too upset how wrapped around her finger he was. In the morning he had to remember to say ‘thank you’ to RDJ for the limited space he had in his house. And although he did wake up with a sore in his ribs where Y/N had accidentally kneed him during the night, he had never been happier about a predicament in his life. After all, it’s what gave him the chance to speak his heart.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take): @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @sweet-ladyy @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan@nerissa98 @happyseagrill @asguardiansoftheavengers @crazybutconfidentaf @wishingforahome @pizzarollpatrol @desir-ae

A/N: should I do like a part two of the next day????????

P.S. what did ya think?

P.S.S. my tags are always open. just drop a message :)

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avengerscompound · 5 years

Text

Snapshots - Four

Snapshots: A Bucky Barnes Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 2269

Rating: E

Square filled: @buckybarnesbingo, Y4 Reunion

Warnings: Smut (M|F rushed virginity loss, vaginal sex)

Synopsis: Before Bucky Barnes became the Winter Soldier he had a life and plans for the future. A lot of them involving you.

Bucky returns home after his training. With his deployment a day away he just wants to have some fun but nothing seems to go his way.

Four

You were running late. You’d been on Summer Vacation for a few weeks now and the internship you’d gotten with Stark Industries had brought you home to Brooklyn for the Stark Expo. Last night work had kept you late which had led to you sleeping in today. Trying to rush to get ready had not helped at all and just meant you had to reapply your makeup three times before you actually made it out of the door.

You almost slammed directly into Bucky Barnes as he was coming into your building. It took you a moment to realize it was even him. You hadn’t seen him in two years and had no idea he was back from his training. He was in full uniform and looking just as handsome and cocky as ever. Maybe more so. The uniform fit perfectly.

“Bucky?” You asked still slightly bewildered.

“Hi, doll.” He said, that same beautiful Bucky Barnes smile he always had spread over his face.

“Bucky!” You squeaked when it finally kicked into place and you slammed into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his chest.

His arms closed around you and he leaned his cheek on you. He’d been writing to you. Not regularly by any means. But every month or two you’d get a letter delivered to you at college telling you how things were going in the Army. How he’d made Sergeant. Asking about how you were. Or about your studies. Often he’d ask about Steve.

“I didn’t know you were getting in. How long will you be here?” You asked.

“Just today. I ship out tomorrow.” He said. You squeaked again and held him even tighter, blinking back the tears that were threatening to break.

“No.” You said. “But that’s not enough time.”

“I know it’s not.” He said. “But that’s the way it goes. I was hoping I might be able to take you out tonight. Maybe we could double with Steve?”

You groaned and pulled away from him. “I can’t. I have work.”

“Can’t you call in sick?” Bucky whined, tugging on your skirt.

You winced. You wanted to. You really, really wanted to. It had been so long and getting to hang out with him and Steve like you used to, would be so good. Plus there was the whole, complicated feelings thing you wanted to work out and he was shipping out. You wanted to go with him.

But this internship was one of the most prestigious ones around. They never gave them to women. You were extremely lucky to have it and you couldn’t risk it.

“I can’t. It’s not a paper run. It’s with Stark.”

“You got it?” He asked, his eyes lighting up. “Really?”

You smiled at him feeling a little warm inside. He was proud of you. You hadn’t expected that. “Yeah. I’ve been working for them for about a month.”

He pulled you into a tight hug and you melted into him. “Maybe I can see you when you’re done?”

You looked up at him. “Oh. Yes.” You pulled back and dug around in your bag, pulling out a handful of tickets. “These are to the Stark Expo. Bring people.”

“Thanks, doll,” He said and tucked them in his jacket.

“I gotta go, I’m already late. I don’t finish until it closes. Find me after.” You said.

“Will do,” He said as you dashed down the steps. As you turned and made your way up the street he called after you. “Do you know where Steve is? I went to his place and he was out.”

“Try the cinema. He likes to catch the newsreels.” You yelled back without breaking your stride.

The Expo hadn’t wound up until late and you’d ended up being walked home by a few of the men who were working as interns too. You’d stayed up for a while waiting for Bucky, but as the night became the next morning you gave up waiting.

As you dozed on your couch, your heart felt heavy. Of course, Bucky didn't owe you anything. You had always made it extremely clear that you and he were not an item. He had probably gone on the double date with Steve that he'd wanted to and he'd gotten lucky or he was getting lucky now. Of course, he would. He was shipping out tomorrow. He should have fun.

You just wished you'd gotten to say goodbye.

You weren't sure if you were asleep already or if you were just almost asleep when there was a tapping on glass that snapped you awake. You jumped up and rushed to the window, letting in Bucky who was peering in from the fire escape.

“Boy, am I glad you weren't in bed yet.” He whispered as he climbed inside.

“What are you doing here? I thought you must have decided not to come.”

Bucky went to answer, but you shushed him and hurried him to your room, closing the door behind you. “Dad sleeps pretty soundly but you still better keep it down.” You whispered.

Bucky took off his hat and put it on your desk and started to take off his jacket. “Sorry, I'm so late.” He said quietly. “Steve and I took a couple of gals to the Expo. Man, you work there? I couldn't believe my eyes. That flying car! I bet everyone will be in flying cars after the war is done.”

“So you came here when you were done with your date? Thanks, Buck. Way to make a girl feel special.”

“Oh hey, now. It's not like that,” he said. He shrugged off the jacket and hung it on the back of your chair before approaching you and running his hands down your arms.

“Oh yeah? What is it like?”

Some of the light seemed to go out of his eyes and he sat down on the edge of your bed like the wind has been knocked out of him. He sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

“I wanted to have some fun you know? One last night out with my best friend. I asked these girls. Connie and Bonnie. Only Connie wouldn't even look twice at Steve. I tried to get him to have fun, but the colder Connie was the more shut off Steve became. Then he decided he was gonna just ditch us and try and enlist again.” His voice broke at the end and you sat beside him and wrapped your arm around his shoulders. He leaned against you, letting your take his full weight. “I just wanted to have some fun. To dance a bit and be with my best friend. And the little punk couldn’t even go one day without committing a felony.”

“Well, it’s Steve. You know what he’s like.” You said rubbing his back.

“I just wanted one night.” He said nuzzling at your neck. “What if I don’t come back? What if the last time I see Steve it’s him telling me that trying to sign up for the army is more important than me?”

“Why didn’t you just find him after? He’s done this so many times. He’s normally around sulking after.” You said. “Or me? I was waiting for you.”

“I tried to find him. I don’t know where he went. Maybe they caught him and he’s in jail. Fuck. What if the last time I saw Steve was before he got put in prison?” His arm had draped over your stomach and his hand opened and closed on your hip. “I went dancing with Connie and Bonnie. I just wanted one good night to look back on. I’m sorry I didn’t find you.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine. What happened with Connie and Bonnie?”

“We danced. I walked them home.”

“Oh yeah, right.” You scoffed.

“I did. You want to know the truth, doll? I pretty much only ever walk them home.” He said.

“Oh, you liar.” You teased, pushing him a little.

“It’s true,” Bucky said with a hollow laugh. He flopped back on your bed and pulled his hair. “Oh, I mean, I’ve felt a few girls up, but I don’t wanna ruin anyone’s reputation. I’ve seen too many girls sent upstate to live with their aunts.”

You lay down next to him and faced him. “You know everyone thinks you did, right? Any girl who went out with you knew exactly what you were doing to their reputation.”

“Yeah, I know. And ain’t that a peach? Everyone thinks I screwed my way through half of Brooklyn and now I’m gonna go get myself killed as a virgin.”

“You’re not going to die, Bucky.”

“Yeah, think positive, doll,” He said.

“Bucky,” You said, reaching over and caressing your cheek.

“I was so excited about today. It was going so well. I just feel like this is all some kind of sign.” He said.

There was something about the pain in his voice that made you so badly want to make this okay. You didn’t know how to do it though. So you leaned in and kissed him. His hand went to your hair and he deepened the kiss. A small hum escaped your lips and you started to tug his tie off.

He pulled back and looked at you. “You don’t have to do this.” He said. “I don’t want to get you, of all people, in any trouble.”

You shook your head and kissed his neck, your fingers moving a little more frantically this time. “We can be careful. Besides, you said you were gonna marry me. This just means you have to come back and make an honest woman out of me.”

He chuckled softly and his hands ran up under your nightdress and skimmed over your ass. You frantically unbuttoned his shirt and started working on his belt.

Something about your frenzied need to show him that everything would be okay in this broken and ridiculous way rubbed off on him. He rolled over and pulled your nightdress off before resuming kissing you hungrily. He groaned and began to grind down against you, his cock hardening and straining at the thick fabric of his pants.

Your whole body trembled like a small electric current was running through it. You freed his cock and pushed his pants down. He groaned as he rubbed his erection against the thin fabric of your panties.

“You sure you want this?” He whispered as he rutted his hips against you.

“Yes. Yes, Bucky. Let’s be each other’s firsts.”

He pulled your panties down and lined his cock up with your entrance. He buried his face in the side of your neck, breathing heavily. “And last, doll.” He whispered and thrust into you.

You winced and made a pained noise as he’s body tore into yours, a sharp pain bursting in your cunt. He pulled back and looked down at you. “Did I hurt you?”

You furrowed your brow. “Just give me a second.”

He slowed and began to kiss you deeply, his hands running over your body. As you adjusted and the pain began to subside you rolled your hips up and he began to thrust. It was fast and erratic. Neither of you really knowing what you were doing, while you both tried to keep quiet. Your bedsprings creaked and in the back of your head, you worried your dad would hear you. Mostly, you just wanted Bucky to feel something good on his last day. To have something to take with him that meant something.

Has his breath became shallow he pulled out and came on your stomach in hot ribbons before collapsing down beside you. You grabbed some tissues and wiped your stomach clean before curling up in his arms.

“Was it okay? Did it hurt?” He whispered.

“I’m okay. It was fine, Buck.” You replied.

He started to cry against your neck and you held him close rubbing his back. “I’m so scared.”

“I know. But now you have to come back, don’t you?”

He nodded. “You’re gonna be my wife. You’ll wait for me?”

You kissed his brow and then his lips. “Yeah, Buck. I’ll wait for you. I’m gonna be a famous scientist and you’re gonna be my toy boy.”

He chuckled through his tears and wiped his eyes. “Can you try and find Steve tomorrow. He’s gonna be angry about not being able to go.”

You nodded. “Yeah. I’ll track him down.”

The two of you dozed in each other's arms for a few hours before he snuck out while it was still dark. Before he left the two of you stood by the window, him cupping your jaw and looking down at you. “I love you. I always meant it when I said I wanted to marry you.”

You nodded. “I know, Buck. I love you too. Come back and we’ll have that life.”

He leaned in and kissed you deeply. Everything her felt poured out of that kiss. His fear, his love, the melancholy that you’d only reached this stage together when he had to leave again. When he let you go he climbed out through the window and you watched him jog off down the street.

You never did track Steve Rogers down the next day, though you did see the rather changed version of him on new reels. Bucky Barnes wrote you from the frontlines, but the last time you ever saw him, was when his shadow disappeared up your street in the small hours of the morning.

~ END ~

#buckybarnesbingo2019 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #the winter soldier fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #smut #angst #snapshots

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damian-dreamz8442 · 4 years

Text

Missing in Action Part II

Hola, back with the second half of the fic. Should I link Part I here?

Psych, I already did.

BTW this is NOT canon compliant and I do not even try to be accurate at all, just in character.

Basic re-cap (spoilers) Damian is missing, kidnapped by a pack of goons in clown makeup, right out from under Dick’s nose. Afterwards he got a call from the Joker saying he has Damian, and gave Dick a bit of a clue as to where.

Meanwhile, the Joker is very angry over the fact that he doesn’t actually have Damian, and the little punk is, in fact, nowhere to be found.

Dick called the batmobile to his location, putting it on autopilot as he was in no condition to drive. His pounding head was only a minor distraction compared to the all-encompassing worry over Damian. He needed back-up if he was going to find Damian.

Stephanie was, unsurprisingly, the first to answer. “Batman?” She questioned, no doubt noticing Dick initiated a group call with her, Cass, Tim and Jason.

“I hope this is quick, Batman,” Tim added, keys clacking audibly in the background, “I’m in the middle of a case with the titans and-”

“Damian is missing.” Dick blurted, abandoning code names.

“What?” Jason barked. Dick could hear Cass narrow her eyes.

“He was kidnapped on patrol,” Dick explained, “a pack of goons took him, wearing clown makeup.”

“Oh my god.” Stephanie breathed, at the same time as Tim’s “the Joker? He’s back?”

“We don’t know that.” Jason reasoned, voice tight. “There are copy cats of the Joker all over Gotham.”

“I got a call.” Dick cut his brother off, trying to focus his eyes on the road despite not being in control of the car. “A payphone, somehow he knew I would still be in the area. He gave me a clue.” A really messed up, useless clue. Dick hated even remembering the words as they came along with that familiar nasal voice. He’d written down the message, scrawled hastily on a sticky note in his belt, but somehow he’d dropped it in his panic.

“He said he took Robin to ‘the place little robins go to... die’.” Dick ignored his voice crack, hoping the others would as well.

Tim’s typing stopped, “like actual birds or-”

“The warehouse.” Jason growled, eliciting a curse from Dick. “You don’t think...” Jason’s only response was a grunt.

Jason’s constant death jokes insured that at least they all knew which warehouse he was referring to. It did nothing to instill confidence in Dick.

“How long do we have?” Tim asked as Dick went about changing the coordinates in his GPS.

“It’s the Joker,” Jason grumbled, emotion lost from his voice in a transparent way of blocking out old memories, “we’ll be lucky if Damian’s even recognizable when we get there.”

The line went silent, the implications heavy on the group of siblings. Dick wished for the thousandth time that Bruce was there. He could’ve stopped all this, surely. Dick didn’t have time to think about the irony; losing his first robin the same way the first Batman lost his robin. Dick wouldn’t let his brain go there. He couldn’t.

Damian finally made it back to the street Dick was supposed to be on. Between limping and sticking to the shadows as much as possible in red and green, it had taken him nearly another hour. Quite the pathetic display, Damian told himself. No doubt if his father had been alive, he would’ve been disappointed.

Despite it being two hours, Damian was at a loss when he found the alleyway deserted. There was a creepy box, mostly broken, and a stuffed clown face that laid decimated not far away, but no Batman. Damian did not like the idea of limping all the way back to the manor. His ankle pulsed with constant pain, it was getting harder to breathe around his ribs, and the cuts littered all of his limbs had yet to stop bleeding. It was tempting to just sit against the wall and wait for someone to come along and put him out of his misery.

Instead, Damian limped over to a phone booth across the street. The receiver was unhooked, emitting the most sound, second only to Drake speaking. Damian hung it up with a grimace. He was surprised it worked at all, considering no one used phone booths anymore. Unless they were desperate. Which Damian was.

He was about to try to remember the number for Wayne manor, when Damian noticed something yellow discarded haphazardly outside the phone booth. It wouldn’t have been of much interest to him, except the handwriting was unmistakable.

Dick had used the phone booth and carelessly left behind a note. No doubt he was over reacting to Damian being missing, but at least it ensured he was alive. The note made little sense.

‘Where little robins go to die’, who would even come up with that? Damian made a face at the sickening notion.

Sluggishly, Damian’s brain aligned the clues. Dick thought he was missing, already on a scale of six of worry. He and Tim categorized a scale of worry for their family. Dick was almost always a five, Damian had never seen Jason rise above a two.

Someone had called him on the phone booth, obviously. It was unlikely Dick’s communicator was broken in the skirmish and even if it was he wouldn’t think to use a phone booth. For what purpose? He could just call the batmobile.

So some sicko had called the phone booth and given Dick the message. A clue perhaps? Damian read it again, allowed his mushy, bruised brain to comprehend the words. Wished he was as good a detective as Drake. Bashed the intrusive thought with a mental crowbar.

Crowbar! Damian would’ve smacked his head if it didn’t already hurt so much. Finally Jason’s fatalistic sense of humor came in handy; his cause of death ingrained in the back of Damian’s mind. A rather dark turn of thought, but Damian was more results oriented.

The Joker had beaten Jason with a crowbar, then killed him, in a warehouse on the other side of Gotham. It never did get rebuilt, but the Joker had erroneously threatened to do the same thing to Damian. Despite it being a lie, Dick would believe it. He didn’t know Damian escaped.

Great, just great. How unbelievably fantastic. What an amazing turn of events, now Damian would get the absolute privilege of walking all the way across Gotham, trying to catch up with Dick who was probably a hair shy of a ten. If Damian was wrong well... that would really suck.

Damian was really starting to understand why Joker was the most disliked criminal in the batfamily. (There was a vote. Ironically, they all like Harley Quinn the most.)

With no other options, Damian began limping in the vague direction of the infamous warehouse. A street later, he passed a marooned motorcycle. After that, his night got much better.

Dick ran across the grounds of the warehouse district to find the rest of his siblings not far from the remains of the blown up warehouse. Cass had a hand on Jason’s shoulder, while he quietly muttered about not letting Damian die the same way he had. It was cruelty on another level, this scheme of the Joker’s. Dick just wanted his robin back.

Tim and Steph were formulating a strategy. Well, Tim was, having pulled up an overhead view of the warehouse rubble. Steph kept suggesting they go in fighting, get Damian, and set Joker on fire. Tim pointed out eight reasons that would not work.

Dick stood next to Jason, taking a deep breath. “I don’t think we have time to wait, or make a plan.” He shot an apologetic look at Tim, “we just need to go in, canvas it, find Damian-”

“That’s what Joker wants!” Tim insisted, gesturing lamely to the building. “He probably has some game set up, or the entrance rigged, and we’ll all get blown up!” Jason bristled at the prospect of being blown up again, noticeable only to Cass. She squeezed his shoulder.

Suddenly, a sharp disc cut through the group, lodging in the tree behind them. They all looked at it in shock, Joker’s logo laughing at them. It blinked to life, emitting a hollow cackle.

“You’re too late!” Came a raspy voice. It hissed, a pathetic amount of laughing gas bubbling out of its edges. The frisbee was not meant to do damage, the real threat...

Dick spun around just as ruins of the warehouse let out a sickening crackle and exploded. Again.

“No!” Dick screamed, lurching forward. Cass jumped in front of him to hold him back, eyes trained on the building. Jason couldn’t tear his eyes from the flames, memories and horror clutching him.

“No, no, no, that can’t be it!” Tim insisted, burying his hands in his hair. “It’s... it’s the Joker! Where are the mind games? The... the...”

Stephanie crashed to her knees, gaping at the scene. “What just-what just happened?”

“Damian...” Dick’s voice cracked painfully, throat raw. He could feel the heat, there were debris floating down. Cass hugged him tightly.

Jason spun around and punched a tree, it was unclear if the following crack came from the wood or his knuckles. He let out a furious growl, which morphed into an anguished roar. “I’m. Going. To. Kill. That son of a b-- !”

Damian nearly stopped his stolen motorcycle as he saw the warehouse rubble go up in flames. What the... who would go through the trouble of blowing up that heap of cement? He could only hope Dick wasn’t in there, it would be just like him to do something stupid without Damian.

Finally making it over the grassy hill - one of the few greenspaces in this area of Gotham - Damian ditched the bike. He was about to hobble forward when he heard a haunted wail from none other than Jason Todd. Damian broke into a run, despite his bodies protests.

Had Dick gone into that building? Was one of them hurt? Damian could see his whole family gathered not far from the explosion. He could barely breathe, thanks to his ribs, and tripped on his ankle. He was panting by the time he got close enough to call out to them.

Are you ok?” He straightened to talk to Jason, the only one looking at him, “what happened? Sorry I’m late, but someone ditched me in central Gotham and-”

His whole family spun to look at him. Jason looked close to tears. Dick was crying. Stephanie was on the ground. Maybe she was hurt? Before Damian could ask, Dick was running full speed at him.

“Robin!” His voice was thick with relief as he swept Damian into a hug. Normally such contact was unwarranted but not uncomfortable. This time, could Damian just say, ow.

“Batman, release me!” Damian managed through gritted teeth, his ribs screaming at the pressure. There were definitely a few broken.

“Robin, I can’t believe... you were... and then we!”

“Batman! My ribs!” Dick let go immediately at the pained sound of Damian’s voice, supporting the boy as he doubled over painfully. He looked up to find his whole family gathered around him in concern.

There were hands all over him, noting his injuries, bracing his ankle, rubbing his back. Someone - Todd, probably - even took advantage of the situation to mess up his hair. It was too much to keep track of, making him dizzy.

“What happened?” He asked, batting the hand away from his hair.

“We thought you... you were in there.” Stephanie finally explained, pointing at the burning cement foundation.

“Joker, he... I saw you?” Dick was still unable to formulate a proper sentence.

Damian scoffed, which cost him dearly as pain seared through him. It took him another second to get enough breath back in his lungs to explain. “I got away from those buffoons in like... five minutes.” Two hours, but who was counting.

“Your ankle. Ribs. Head.” Cass countered. Ah, her hands were bracing his ankle.

“Well, I didn’t get away entirely unscathed.”

“We were really worried about you.” Tim’s voice was choked with emotion. He was rubbing Damian’s back. Damian couldn’t help but look at him in shock.”

“So you all rushed here... to try and save me?”

“Obviously!” Jason scoffed loudly. “Always.” He finished, locking eyes with Damian.

Damian cleared his throat - another act that rendered him speechless in pain for a few seconds. “Thank you for coming. As you can see, I’m fine.” The siblings shared an incredulous look.

“Is that Damian for ‘my body frigging hurts and I want to go home’?” Steph asked, leaning down to Damian’s level. He glared at her. “No, I’m-” he was about to say ‘not even that hurt’ but then Cass let go of his ankle to stand and Damian nearly fainted. To his utter mortification, a pained whimper left him.

“Oh, lil’D, c’mere.” Dick cooed sympathetically, slowly gathering him up. This time he was mindful of Damian’s ribs. Damian would not admit that a huge wave of relief washed over him as soon as he was being carried, weight off his ankle and head cradled on Dick’s shoulder.

“Put me down. I can... I can walk.” Damian’s protest held no heat, it was basically a whine. Dick leaned his cheek on Damian’s head softly. That was all it took for Damian’s body to finally give into the darkness.

When Damian came to, he was in the batcave on a bed next to Dick. Dick was holding his hand, half asleep, pristine bandages wrapped around his head. Despite the calm scene next to him, the batcave was anything but.

Tim and Cass were playing a video game on the huge monitor - correction, Tim was losing against Cass in a video game on the huge monitor - while Jason and Steph cheered them on. Alfred was cleaning up medical supplies when he noticed Damian’s attempt at awareness.

“Master Damian,” Alfred greeted with a soft smile. Dick jerked awake, already grinning. “Dami! You’re awake!” The game was paused as four more people came rushing to his bedside.

Damian hated being on pain meds. The sight of his family being so worries about him was enough to make him want to hug them. Humiliating.

“How are you feeling?” Tim asked. Before Damian could bite back with a harsh ‘fine’, his emotions betrayed him.

“Thank you,” he muttered, surprising no one more than himself. “Thank you for always coming for me.” Damian bit back the rest of his words, and the tears. He refused to be as pathetic and young as they expected of him.

Dick saw right through him, he always did. He reached over and hugged Damian - something that was quickly becoming a normal action, not that Damian could bring himself to mind. “We love you.”

#batfam #damian wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #robin #batman #red hood #red robin #spoiler #orphan #au #hurt/comfort #misunderstanding #tricks #gotham #the joker

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 5 years

Text

Non-Sequential [Ch. 3]

Pairing: Pre-Serum Steve Rogers/Steve Rogers x Reader

One night, Steve Rogers met a beautiful dame named Y/N. He hadn’t intended on letting her get away. But fate had other ideas. Y/N appeared and disappeared in his life so hauntingly that Steve started to wonder if she was an angel meant to watch over him.

Word Count: 4,267

A/N: Inspired by the film The Time Traveler’s Wife. But not one of those fics that just literally rips off the whole movie and plugs in characters where they please.

Chapter 2

Brooklyn, NY - 1934

It had been 6 months since Y/N had spent the night in Steve’s bedroom. Steve was starting to lose his mind, wondering why Y/N could never stay. Why did no one know who she was? Was she OK? Was she in trouble? Was she homeless? Was she even human?

Steve was only mildly convinced he hadn’t gone crazy by the fact that her appearance had saved him from getting beaten to a pulp by those bullies. If she’d scared them away, she had to be real…right?

Steve was sitting in a park, sketching her. A part of him was scared that if he didn’t, he’d start forgetting what she looked like.

Who knew if she’d ever come back? What if that innocent night where they slept in the same room was all they got?

“What’s this?” A voice said from behind him.

Steve panicked when he recognized the voice.

It was Charlie; a boy he went to school with. He made a habit out of teasing the living daylights out of Steve. However, he was never bold enough to do it in front of Bucky.

Steve tried to slam his sketchbook shut before Charlie could see anything.

But Charlie was already ripping it out of Steve’s hands.

“Charlie, don’t!” Steve tried to jerk it back.

But he was stronger than him.

Charlie shoved Steve away from him so hard that he felt to his bum and looked up at him helplessly. Charlie started flipping through the pages. He appeared bored until he reached the sketches of Y/N. There was a little less than a dozen. But all of them were so detailed that they were practically photographs.

Charlie started laughing, mocking Steve. “You peeping in girl’s windows now, Rogers?”

Steve got to his feet and shoved forward. “Give it back, Charlie!”

“You know what? This broad is a real looker. I think I’ll keep it. Look at it when I’m real lonely…if you know what I mean.”

Steve seethed at his gross implication. He tackled Charlie, but it hardly moved the boy.

Charlie shoved him to the ground again and took a step, readying his fist to beat Steve until he learned a lesson.

But suddenly, Charlie was being pulled back by the collar of his jacket.

“The hell you think you’re doing?” Bucky growled as he held on to the boy.

“W-W-We were just m-messing around, Barnes,” Charlie stuttered in fear.

Bucky wasn’t smaller than Charlie.

“Oh, yeah?” Bucky chided as his eyes looked down to see Steve’s sketchbook in Charlie’s grasp. “You think you can just take things from people because they’re smaller than you?” He ripped it from Charlie’s grasp.

Charlie didn’t answer, just gulped.

Bucky brought his face closer. “I asked you a question,” he growled. Charlie shook his head quickly in fear.

Bucky shoved him so hard, he fell to the ground. “Pick on someone your own size.”

Charlie stumbled back to his feet and sprinted away.

Bucky watched him go and then finally turned to his best friend. He helped Steve off the ground and brushed the dirt from his clothes. Then he carefully handed Steve his sketchbook. He knew how important it was to him.

“Thanks, Buck.” Steve muttered as his eyes stared downward.

“You OK?”

Steve just nodded, but his head still hung.

“He won’t bother you no more,” Bucky pronounced a little too confidently.

Steve finally looked at his friend. “Yeah, he will. He’s scared of you, not me. Soon as I’m alone, he’ll mess with me again.”

Bucky frowned and his shoulders sagged. He knew Steve was right. Yeah, Bucky was Steve’s protector. But he couldn’t be with his friend 24/7.

Steve slowly opened up his sketchbook. The drawing he had just been working on had ripped 3/4 of the way down. It must’ve happened when Charlie first ripped the book out of his hands.

Bucky watched him sadly. “That her?”

Steve ignored the question as his finger traced down the ripped paper. “What’re doin’ here, Buck?” He asked, hoping to change the subject.

“Was just lookin’ for you, punk.”

Steve looked around and sighed. “I think I’m just going to head home.”

But Bucky was already shaking his head. “Absolutely not. We’re getting somethin’ to eat.”

Steve wanted to try and argue further. But he knew there was no point. Bucky wouldn’t let him mope around. So Steve let him drag him in any direction he wished. It didn’t matter.

————

Bucky was talking about the baseball game from earlier in the day, giving Steve a play-by-play with such enthusiasm. Steve got excited at the right points and laughed at the others. Seeing Bucky’s face light up talking about it was enough to bring his friend joy too.

The diner was roaring with other conversations and laughter. It was their usual place, meaning that most of the people there were from the neighborhood and the diner’s usual customers.

Steve’s back was to the toward. But he wanted to turn around when he heard the bell ring. The conversations died down a bit. The laughter stopped. Steve felt the hairs on the back of his neck move on end.

Whoever had just walked in had grabbed the attention of the majority of the diner.

Then Steve looked up at Bucky to see that he had stopped mid-sentence to also gawk. His eyes were attentive and his mouth just slightly wide with awe.

Somehow, Steve just knew. He just knew it was her.

He kept facing forward, fighting every urge of his body to turn around and look at her. Goosebumps went all across his skin as he heard the sound of her heels tapping the tile of the diner. They were getting closer and closer. Steve watched Bucky’s eyes trailing her.

Then she was standing right next to him.

“Mind if I join you boys?” She asked.

Steve finally found the courage to turn and look up at her.

For once, Y/N was wearing her clothes that fit her. A black top and grey skirt, cinched to perfection by a fancy belt. She was even wearing sheer gloves and a hat neatly pinned into her flawless curls.

She seemed to be wearing makeup for the first time. Her eyes popped from their new outline. Her lips were a dark red that was almost too sensual to be worn in the daytime. She was a vision. And it was no wonder the entire diner had stopped to gaze at her.

Steve, so hypnotized by her, missed the question.

“Y/N,” he whispered in revelation.

That seemed to snap Bucky out of his daze. He blinked and looked at Steve, making sure he heard him right. “Y/N?” He gaped.

But Steve ignored his questioning.

The way she was looking at him and the way Steve was looking at her, it was like the rest of the world had disappeared for them.

Bucky cleared his throat, finally grabbing both of their attention. “Steve, I believe the lady asked you a question…”

Steve blinked. “Right. Of course.” He jumped out of the booth.

Bucky did too. “I’m James Buchanan Barnes, miss. I’ve heard quite a lot about you.”

Steve’s stomach tightened at watching his best friend’s charm get released. He couldn’t be mad at him. Bucky would find a way to charm a woman on his deathbed. It couldn’t be stopped. But this was the moment Steve had dreaded.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed playfully and she was clearly trying to hide a smirk. But she shook Bucky’s hand politely. “The infamous Bucky Barnes. It’s so nice to finally put a face to the name,” Y/N said just as charmingly.

But then she turned her attention to Steve, who was patiently waiting for her to take a seat. Her face softened and whatever charm had been in her expression had been replaced by pure sincerity.

“Hello, Steve,” she hummed softly. But the simple greeting said so much more.

“Hi, Y/N,” Steve managed to reply.

Then they booth slid into the booth.

Y/N seemed to finally sense all the eyes on her. The conversations had continued throughout the diner. But most of the men kept stealing glances at her every chance they got.

Y/N cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Uh…Is it just me or is everyone staring at us?”

Steve looked around finally and gave the deadliest glare to every man that ogled her. “They’re not staring at us, doll. They’re staring at you,” Bucky told her with a grin.

Y/N put some hair behind her ear self-consciously.

Steve caught it immediately and scooted just a bit closer to her in the booth. The gesture seemed to relax her a bit.

“So…Y/N, where have you been hiding?” Bucky asked.

Steve gave him a warning glower.

But Y/N seemed unfazed. “I’ve been out of town.”

Steve cleared his throat and started changing the subject.

But then Y/N took over the conversation, started asking Bucky and Steve questions. It was like she was a part of their longtime friendship. She fit in flawlessly. Whatever weirdness lingered from Y/N’s mysterious comings and goings was completely absent.

Steve didn’t know how she did it. He couldn’t fathom how she felt like an old friend when they’d only spent mere hours together collectively.

Some time had passed when Steve caught a glance at the clock.

“Jeez, I lost track of time. I promised ma I’d be home for dinner soon,” Steve muttered quickly.

Then he looked at Y/N. He wasn’t ready to let her go yet. Then he remembered how she insisted he introduce her to his mother next time they saw each other.

“Would… Would you like to come to dinner?” Steve asked her nervously.

A shy smile formed on her painted lips. “I’d love to.”

“Well, then let’s go!” Bucky clapped his hands together.

Steve narrowed his eyes and pointed at his friend. “You’re not comin’.”

Bucky looked offended.

“I’m sick of you eating all my food,” Steve warned.

This was a new feeling for Bucky. He didn’t know what it was like for a woman to be numb and unresponsive to his charm and advances. But it warmed his heart to see Steve look so enamored and captivated.

They started walking out of the diner. Steve moved unnecessarily closer to Y/N as he caught men leering at her.

Once they were outside, Bucky pat Steve’s back as his farewell.

Then he turned to Y/N. “It was very nice to finally meet the doll that Steve won’t shut up about.”

Steve blushed.

To both men’s surprise, Y/N enveloped Bucky into a tight and loving hug. It caught Bucky off-guard, causing a delayed reciprocation.

Steve felt like he was missing something.

Y/N held Bucky tight and when she pulled away, she still gripped his shoulders firmly. “I’m glad we finally got to meet, Bucky.” But her voice was a little sad as she said it.

Bucky seemed to sense it too and just gave a shy nod, “I’m glad we did too, doll.”

They said their farewells and Steve started leading Y/N to his apartment.

He can’t help but try and steal as many side glances of her as possible.

“You look…different this time,” he told her quietly.

“You mean I don’t look like I’ve stolen someone’s clothes this time,” she laughed lightly.

Steve chuckled and shook his head, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“I thought I’d make a bit more of an effort,” Y/N shrugged.

“How long you in town for?” Steve asked the dreaded question.

She sighed and gave him an apologetic smile. “I don’t know. I never really know.”

Steve tried to act like he understood. “Need a place to stay again?”

Her face softened at the obvious offer. “Maybe,” she admitted.

“Sure you want to stay for dinner? I don’t know why you were so adamant about meeting my ma.”

“Well, she raised you. I’d like to meet the woman that made the infamous Steve Rogers the man he is today.”

He scoffed at that. “I don’t know about ‘infamous.’ Don’t know about ‘man’ either.” He looked down at his small body.

“Size doesn’t make a boy become a man, Steve.”

“Then what does?” He challenged.

She stopped walking so she could face him. Her face had never looked more serious since he’d met her. “Many things. You’ve already figured it out…you just don’t know it yet. But I promise none of them have to do with physicality.”

Steve’s face scrunched in confusion. “Guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Then they were at his apartment building.

When Steve glanced at Y/N, he saw that she looked nervous.

Was it because she was about to meet his mother? No, that couldn’t be it.

Steve unlocked the door and was immediately met with the sounds of his mother cooking in the kitchen.

“Ma, I’m home. I brought someone back for dinner.”

“You tell that Bucky Barnes he better take his shoes of before he walks into this apartment,” a voice called with a muted Irish accent.

Despite the command not being aimed at her, Y/N took off her high heels.

Steve gave her an apologetic look, but led her toward the kitchen.

“It’s not Bucky, ma.”

His mom whipped away from the stove to look. She seemed utterly shocked to find a young woman standing next to him.

“Oh, h-hello…” Sarah Rogers stuttered. “Ma, this is Y/N,” Steve told her with a beaming smile.

Y/N rushed forward to properly introduce herself. Sarah went for the handshake and was surprised that Y/N immediately went for the hug. Sarah gave her son a questioning look over Y/N’s shoulder. But Steve just shrugged.

When Y/N pulled away, Sarah immediately became worried when she saw tears in Y/N’s eyes.

“Oh, dear. What’s the matter?” She immediately went into mom mode.

Y/N sniffed and rubbed the tears away embarrassingly. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” she quickly apologized. “I’m just being silly.”

Sarah patted her cheek softly and wiped any remaining tears. “Why don’t you take a seat, love? Dinner’s almost ready.”

Y/N nodded and Steve rushed forward to pull out a chair for her. He gave her a look, asking her silently if she was OK. Y/N nodded and looked embarrassed.

But Steve still reached for her hand under the table and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“So,” Sarah began as the food was finally on all their plates, “how did you meet this beautiful young lady, Steve?”

Y/N's cheeks turned pink at the subtle compliment.

“We just kind of…” Steve started.

“Met,” Y/N finished.

Sarah eyed the two of them, knowing there was more to it than that.

But once again, Y/N became her charming self. She overwhelmed Sarah with questions. She asked her about working as a nurse in the tuberculosis ward, what Steve was like as a kid, how Ireland was different than New York City.

Sarah barely got a chance to ask Y/N a single thing.

However, Steve noticed that Y/N never asked about his father. It was almost strategic.

“Ma, why don’t you two have some tea in the living room and I’ll clean up?” Steve suggested when they had been long done with dinner.

“Oh, I can help!” Y/N jumped to her feet.

“No, no, no. You’re our guest,” Steve shooed her away.

Sarah smiled at her son and pulled Y/N to their living room.

Steve could still manage to hear the murmur of their talking as he did the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. But he couldn’t really make out what they were saying.

Y/N was glad to have this moment alone with Sarah.

She looked in the direction of where Steve was in the kitchen.

“You raised an amazing young man, Sarah.”

She smiled softly. “I’m not quite sure it was all my doing. Every so often, I look at him and wonder how I got so lucky to have such an angel of a son.” She sighed, “Sometimes I worry that other people won’t see him.” Then Sarah eyed Y/N knowingly. “Well…I worried about that until tonight.”

“Believe it or not. He saw me first,” a darkness clouded Y/N’s eyes as she said it.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Sarah asked.

Y/N looked pained from the question. “It’s…complicated. Everything about us is complicated. And it’ll get worse before it get’s better.”

Sarah nodded, as if she understood Y/N’s puzzle of words. She reached over and gripped Y/N’s hand tightly. “But you’ll look after him, won’t you, love? He has Bucky. But I have a feeling he won’t always have that boy to protect him.”

Y/N nodded fervently. “Steve means…” she struggled with how much she should say, so she stopped herself and nodded again. “I’ll always look after him, Sarah. I promise.”

“Hey, ma?” Steve leaned against the doorway, giving his mother a look that reminded Y/N of a puppy.

“Yes, Stevie?”

“Can…Can Y/N stay the night? I’ll sleep out here on the couch. She can take my bed. She’s got no place to stay.”

Sarah smiled, “Of course.” She stood up. “I think I’ll go off to bed myself.” Then she gave Steve a playful look of warning. “No funny business, Steven Grant Rogers.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He replied seriously.

Y/N and Steve sat on the couch.

He had lent her some of his pajamas. And he tried to ignore the feelings it brought, seeing her in his clothes. Her makeup was off now and her hair was down. Steve wondered if this is how husbands looked at their wives while they were in the sanctity of their own homes.

They had been talking for hours now. Steve didn’t have school or work the next day, and he would stay up all night talking with Y/N if he could.

Then Y/N’s eyes stared into the distance. Steve could always tell when she was getting lost in her head.

“Y/N? What is it?” He asked her gently.

“I have to tell you something. But…But I know that you’re not going to believe me – that you’ll think I’m crazy.”

“You don’t know that,” Steve tried to argue.

“There are some things I can’t tell you, Steve. But I would never ever lie to you. It’s important to me that you know that.”

Steve nodded. “Please, just tell me. I could never think you’re crazy.”

Y/N took in a deep breath. “The reason I can never stay, that I come and go, that nobody knows who I am…” her eyes tore into Steve’s for a moment, “is because I’m not from here.”

“Y/N…I already knew that.”

“No, not Brooklyn or even New York City. I’m not from this time.”

Steve observed her, tried to figure out if she was yanking his chain. What a strange joke to pull. But Y/N’s face was absolutely serious.

“I’m from the future. I have this…thing…this-this problem. I time travel. But I can’t control it. It just happens. I don’t know where I’m going and I don’t know where I am, until I find a newspaper or a person or…anything.”

Steve was quiet.

“Do…Do you believe me, Steve?” Y/N whispered.

“Yes,” he answered immediately.

“You do?” She asked in shock.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Then she was hugging him. “I’m sorry for not telling you the night you met me. I thought it would scare you. It scares a lot of people. Or they just think I’m crazy,” she muttered into his shoulder.

“It’s OK. You don’t have to apologize,” Steve assured her.

Then they pulled away. “But…Where are are you from? Or I guess I should say when…”

She smirked. “I was born in 1992.”

His eyes widened at the date. But then…he felt his heart slowly break.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t spend his time dreaming about the day when he could actually be with Y/N. They might not know each other as much as he wanted. But he just had this feeling like one day they would know everything about one another.

Now that dream shattered before it even got a chance.

“1992,” he mumbled.

Y/N seemed to read his disappointment. “Come on…aren’t you going to ask me what the future’s like? Don’t you want to know if there are flying cars?”

He tried to force a smile, but failed miserably. Then he stared off, looking at nothing in particular.

“This isn’t the last time you’ll see me, Steve.” Y/N tried to tell him.

They were now walking a fine line.

Y/N promised she’d never lie to him. She refused to break that promise. But she also couldn’t tell him they’d meet again in her own time. It could drive him insane knowing something crazy was going to happen to him in order for that to become their reality.

“It’s just…I thought,” Steve began. But then he shook his head, changing his mind. “Never mind. I was being stupid.”

Y/N wanted him to say it. But she’d let him hide his thoughts this time.

Steve stood then. “I should…uh…let you get to sleep.”

“Oh, OK.” She tried not to sound disappointed.

She walked to his bedroom and turned around in the doorway. “Goodnight, Steve.”

He stopped making up his bed on the couch to look at her. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Steve struggled to fall asleep, knowing Y/N was just in the other room. He knew the next night, his bed would smell of her. His heart beat faster at the thought. Eventually, exhaustion finally forced him to go to sleep.

The next morning, he was awoken by a slight shake and a whisper of Y/N repeatedly calling his name.

Steve winced and blinked his eyes open. “You’re still here,” he mumbled.

She smiled at the sound of his voice in the morning. “I won’t be for long. I can feel it coming. I just wanted to thank you. But also – figured you should watch me go this time…just incase you weren’t sure you believed me.”

Steve sat up a little, “What do you mean?”

But his question was answered as he saw Y/N slowly disappearing. It was like her skin was turning into clouds until she went transparent. But she wasn’t just transparent: she was gone. His clothes dropped to the floor now that there was nothing for them to hold on to.

Steve’s eyes widened and he shot up even further, blinking as if trying to figure out if he had just been dreaming. He looked around the room wildly, expecting to find Y/N giggle in the corner as if it had all been a prank.

But his piles of clothes remained on the floor and Y/N was gone.

—————

Avengers Compound - 2015

“So you guys never…you know?” Sam asked as he held the punching bag for Steve.

The super-soldier glared at his friend for the intrusive question.

“For the last time, Sam, we were just friends.”

“That girl travels around time, tethered to events in your life and you’re still trying to tell me you’re just friends?”

Steve took a step back from the punching bag and evened his breathing.

“Back then, she never told me I’d be a part of the future. She had to be careful what she told me about my life. And me getting frozen and waking up in another century was definitely one of the things she kept to herself.” He took a breath and shook his head. “I never – I didn’t think we’d ever have a chance, OK?”

“So that’s why Peggy was your first love and not her?” Sam asked carefully.

Steve shook his head. “It’s not that simple, Sam.”

“But do you love her?” Sam had a habit of trying to subtly be Steve’s therapist. He didn’t always mean to do it. But Sam knew Steve’s inability to talk things out was no a healthy habit. He always wanted Steve to know that he could talk to him.

“When we first met, I was just a kid. I had a crush on her. Then I kept getting older and older, and she kept visiting…and it turned into something else.” His brow furrowed at the memories. “But then I met Peg and I became a walking experiment and I got sent off to war. I just felt lucky to have Y/N. The fact that we could never be together – I wouldn’t let myself think about how I really felt toward her.”

“But now you know you can,” Sam offered gently.

“Hey, Rogers!” Natasha called from the entrance to the training facility. “I found something that belongs to you.”

Both men turned around to see Nat standing next to Y/N, who was wrapped in a blanket. Her hair was a mess and the blanket was a little short, exposing her legs and bare feet.

Steve’s heart almost leapt out of his chest at the sight of her.

He was oblivious to agents stopping their training and workouts to observe the weird guest before them.

Steve quickly made his way to her.

He eyed Natasha. “What? You couldn’t get her some clothes?”

She glared at him. “I tried. But she wanted to come see you first.” Then she disappeared, leaving the two alone.

“Hey,” Y/N greeted him shyly.

“Hi,” Steve replied.

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

Chapter 4

Yayyyy! THINGS ARE HAPPENING. Let me know your thoughts. It makes me happy and fuels my writing. ❤️

Once again, I do not to taglists. Here is the series’ masterlist: Non-Sequential

#non-sequential series #non-sequential chapter 3 #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers reader insert #marvel reader insert #pre-serum!steve rogers x reader #pre serum steve rogers

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