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caralara · 2 years

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Why this Babygate situation is so different than before (but the same, too) and why it’s leading to The End

I don’t think I can count the number of anons in my inbox telling me to stop believing babygate will end soon because “the fandom has hoped before again and again and it never ended, we’ve been through this so many times” and of course it’s always accompanied by an “it’s for your own good sweetheart I just don’t want you to get disappointed and hurt” and yes yes yes thanks for the concern but I don’t take this lightly, you know?

My optimism isn’t based purely on a gut feeling, and it’s not just based on Louis mentioning Freddie every now and again or him wearing one or two funny shirts. Nope. I looked at the big picture, the time frame from when Babygate began in 2014 (yes 2014) until now and looked at everything I could get my hands on and had a few thoughts about the why and how, so let me walk you through it, just so you can stop filling my inbox with concerned messages <3

First of all - if you’re new here go read my Xarry post to get some background info on why I think babygate even happened in the first place and why Louis went along with it more or less willingly, at least to some degree.

TL;DR: to make it possible for Harry to come out as bi (regardless of his true sexuality), Louis had to appear Super Straight™ in order to not out Larry in the process, and Harry had to sort of stunt with a man that wasn’t Louis - and how do you do that? Babygate & Xarry.

Ok, let’s dive right in.

The Set-Up and Execution

Seeing as it seems they had Briana’s social media wiped clean by approximately end of 2014, the plan must have been in place by then already. This is just to illustrate that these sort of things are planned way ahead into the future - this is about 1.5 years before the baby was even born.

In my opinion, it is debatable if it was ever clearly communicated to Louis or even planned to go through with the entire pregnancy and have the baby born from the beginning. I personally believe that from Briana’s side, they were more than happy to be along for the ride and stay in the spotlight for as long as possible, and management might have suggested something like that to them quite early on, as the Briana Tomlinson and baby Tomlinson URLs had been around at a very early point in the time line already - however, once it was clear that a baby would be born, and paraded as his child, as they saw that even the pregnancy news did very little to convince people that Louis was A Heterosexual, they seemed to push for the full blown execution of the baby-having-business.

Even though Louis managed to sabotage any narrative of a “Happy Couple Expecting a Baby” by calling the paps to Glastonbury where he was holding hands with Tamara Bell, management kept pushing the narrative of Louis and Briana getting back/staying together non-stop (which made it all so messy and confusing to the gp and fandom) and even engagement rumours were seeded.

This culminated in OTRA Belfast being cancelled on 20 October 2015, where Louis did babygate interviews all day long and that “Baby [Boy/Girl] Tomlinson Is Born” was accidentally published early - I believe, this is where Louis found out for sure they were after all planning to go through with the whole birth and him being a father, and not limiting the stunt to a “pregnancy,” and he & Harry and the other boys put their foot down and walked out. He went on and leaked Home that night, and almost exactly a month later he had Danielle Campbell as his new girlfriend introduced - I believe he sought out a beard / PR girlfriend as insurance to not get dragged further into any marriage/relationship stunts with Briana (also the reason why they worked and looked so well together, she was the only beard he ever chose for himself instead of management - and she meant autonomy, something positive, to him).

But can you see how he’s working the chess board, how he’s sacrificing one thing to gain another? How he’s creative and finding solutions to these situations, to get the best possible outcome for Harry and himself from these dilemmas? How he’s utilising what he learned from being in the middle of the storm of the music industry? All the tricks and hacks? How he - even back then - used clothes and double meanings to signal (The Future Is Now shirt, the only shirt ever he re-wore (two days in a row!) on stage - precisely the two shows he called the baby doll thrown on stage a fake baby, and the other one when Harry put the balloon under his shirt during Little White Lies on the day exactly three weeks before the One Conception article?). How he’d learned to manipulate the media? Instrumentalising that horrible “fan” phone call where a deranged person is threatening a literal baby (regardless whether you think it’s real or fake), he highly publicised it at precisely the perfect moment, exactly 6 months after we got the first real pap photos of Freddie - coincidentally also the limit to employ infant actors per year in California, he uses the phone call to plead for privacy, after a bazillion planned pap walks, and making the fandom self police and create a taboo about the topic babygate so they’d quiet down, that it wouldn’t get talked about, questioned and brought up as much anymore and he could put it to sleep for now (-- worked really well, didn’t it? /s).

He knows fandom dynamics, he knows what we talk about, he knows what the different sub bubbles of the fandom like antis, solos, twarries and larries need and he also knows he can trust us, larries, to have his back throughout all of that, picking up on his signalling and sticking around for his true self.

The Quiet Years

By now we’re in late 2016. Louis is an established dad, he’s throughout has signalled he’s not happy with the stunt but he is going along with it - he’s signalled with clothes, with songs recommended (like the Devlin Album or Daddy Cool), he’s referenced FRIENDS with the Sunglass Hut, follows people with paternity scandals on social media, and he’s flatout leaked and protested.

print!Louis has explicitly not taken a paternity test, and he’s taken Briana to court approximately 28 times over custody, while he actually has never done that, and he’s paying less than $6k in child support each month as a multi millionaire.

So why did he not end it then?

First of all. Jay passed in December that year, may she forever rest in peace. I don’t even want to think about it too much, I will never be able to fathom the pain of this loss. And he still went through with his first single.

I think it is important to remember why he even agreed to do it in the first place: it was to make a coming out possible for Harry, without outing Larry in the process. By now, there’s such a gigantic heap of lies by and about a lot of important people connected to a Larry coming out accumulated, it would already be incredibly difficult to manage a coming out on it’s own - and now make it a move that won’t destroy both their careers: I don’t think the world / industry was ready for that in 2017 (or is today, if I am being honest). So. We always have to consider what Harry is doing and how gay Harry is, to see if an end is possible for babygate. So obviously, Harry didn’t come out as bi, and I believe it had to do with him signing with Jeff and Jeff doing a 180° turn, pouring honey into his ears to delay a coming out until he’s established as a solo artist, turning up the Hendall heat almost immediately. And we all know, that Harry trust(ed) Jeff, so there was no coming out at that point (they told me that the end is near, always running from the bullets, we never knew we were here before...)

So. In January, Douis break up and Louis gets back with Eleanor, and jets off to Jamaica, where Harry is also spotted.

Harry kicks off his solo career with his first solo performance in May 2017, while Louis dives back into work, announcing Back To You for July 2017 and deals with his grief on top of that. And guess what gets dusted off for promo season? Yep, suddenly Louis remembers he has a son. It is funny, just a little bit, that every single tweet, insta post and interview mention about Freddie is always in close proximity to a release. I made a fancy google calendar to visualise it, and it is so clear - usually he mentions him about 6 weeks before something gets announced, and then during promo for the Announced Thing. Like for Just Like You which gets released in October 2017, and then the same for Miss You early December 2017. Louis keeps signalling, with the Billie Jean shirt and the Just Like You music video, while Harry gets a big scary demon bee tattooed and sings Kiwi thrice on the three year anniversary of the One Conception Article.

The entirety of 2018, Freddie is basically non-existent - Louis also isn’t putting anything out. He’s in the studio a lot, and besides the recycled and rerecycled Carbon Copy Article that periodically gets published every two months, there’s nothing in that year.

Then, first Freddie postings happen again beginning of 2019, and guess what - Louis announces the release of Two Of Us. For the promo interviews, Freddie gets dusted off again. Louis releases the TOU music video the day before International Day Against Homophobia.

So why did he not end it and ride the publicity wave for Walls? I think there are a few different reasons why not. For starters, Harry released Fine Line, a very very gender and queer album around the same time. I don’t think Louis wanted to overshadow it with Babygate stuff. Secondly - maybe Louis wanted to see if he could pull off Walls without having to use the promo from a scandal, to prove to himself he could make it as a solo artist, too. I also think the push pull behind the scenes with Syco was coming to a head at that time. Shitty promo, no faith in him as an artist, and their past... Focus on one fight at a time - free himself from the people who were responsible for that horrible closet in the first place, then get rid of the collateral damage. And finally: the End needs proper preparation to be pulled off with minimal damage to Louis’ career and his loved ones. It is a huge pile of lies, and he needs to be disentangled from it with a delicate plan and patience. With all the factors behind the scenes being unsure, it is difficult to create a plan that will need at least a year to be executed if you don’t know who will be on your team next month.

The End - Attempt #1

I believe with the release of Walls, they started to execute the plan to end it after LTWT and to use the scandal to push visibility for LT2. They had announced the tour end of October 2019, and Walls was released 31 January 2020 like a lil birthday present for H - and that’s where they started the groundwork for Babygate to end: an album sporting a handwritten note, dedicating it to his littleladfreddie, missing any and all songs about fatherhood, or the joy and struggles of having a child.

Why? Because in order to End It, they have to make the fandom and gp think he’s the most devoted Daddy of all times, so that when the news hit that he turns out to not be the father after all, having taken that way overdue DNA paternity test, everyone will believe him that he really believed he was the dad to littleladfreddie and that he’s actually a victim of the scammer Briana.

They make the groundwork for that, too, in May 2020 - two months after having to push LTWT back to August because of Covid. There’s several articles of Briana dating Brody Jenner (of the Kardashian Jenner clan, yes) purely to get her back into the limelight, to make her interesting for the public, for it to make sense why it has to be in the papers what she’s doing. Between May and September there’s at least (!!) 22 articles about Briana dating Brody, to then have a BUA and immediately, and then, three weeks later, in October, we get Boobiegate - painting an image of scammer!Briana, with a sugar daddy literally telling Louis in an open letter that he hopes she didn’t scam him, too. Oof, what a story!

So why did it not end then? Why did it go quiet for the entirety of the first half of 2021?

Covid. Louis had to push back his tour, again - this time to 2022. It pretty much coincides exactly with the first article coming out about Briana and Brody - this part of the plan was already in motion. And remember, Louis is playing the long game. Making it googleable that Briana is a scammer, it’s not a bad thing if it’s already longer ago than just one promo cycle - makes it look more organic. Boobiegate was important groundwork - but not actually a sign it would end within a couple of months of it. So they pulled it off, the whole boobiegate thing unravels until the end of November, and then it goes very, very quiet. They pushed back the tour by a whole 10 months, so until then - sit and wait. We have almost zero activity from Louis between January and June 2021 - except for some Euros and studio content.

The End - Attempt #2

The next attempt gets kicked off with a “Briana topless article” in June, the day after we get Louis and Freddie at an empty arcade, super recognisable and Louis in full on babygate gear and a two days later Briana refollows Louis on instagram. The fandom goes wild - aww daddy content, especially after Louis poses with little Louies for photos!

September it picks up again: Louis starts to heavily signal with clothes (in the afhf, Obituary, Beatles, sunglasses,...) and then is seen in LA, assumendly seeing Freddie.

October, Louis gets seen clubbing with Annas (key player during babygate seeding in 2015) wearing his H shirt.

November, we get the Bentley push: facetime where he calls over Freddie to talk to Bentley. The mum herself describes how Louis took a week to find the best time slot to call - in the mean time he flew to LA and honestly, he’s so great, he loves his fans so much that he takes out time from his precious son-daddy visit to call a fan up! so thoughtful. He then gets spotted in LA with Freddie, again in full babygate gear (grateful dead “steal your face” shirt and bbg sunglasses!) and Daisy posts a photo of Louis with Freddie.

December: Louis likes babyphotos of friends, and poses with other friend and their baby while wearing a Lacoste crewneck with a huge alligator on it (baby-gator anyone?). Then: christmas and birthday with a 10 £ cake from m&s, and a Freddie within the Tomlinsons who sticks out like a sore thumb. we accidentally get an instagram video of Louis telling Freddie he looks just like him (carbon copy steal your face gasp) with his lips etc. Freddie poses with a surf board Louis gifted him that’s called DNA. Louis wears Beatles again.

January 2022: Louis congratulates his 6 year old son in a tweet. at half nine pm. but freddie goes to bed at 7 doesnt he louis and Daisy posts carbon copy post of Louis and Freddie

February 2022: Louis sees an opportunity and takes it: has the tourbus stop for a little Louie hislittleladfreddie’s age, and in front of hundreds of phones filming him, he tells him he’s got a son just like him (cue aaaaw daddy Louis)

March 2022: Louis gives Freddie a shout out during his LA show, no one gets it, so he does it again. before all of this, he tells Charlie where to film (we’ll get it in the documentary to make it real y’all) he’s spotted on a daddy son day out at Santa Monica pier

Throughout the rest of tour, the intensity and frequency of signalling through clothes get more and more, Louis wears beatles, bbg sunglasses, and: starts wearing chequers and following F1 accounts, joining F1 & DNA spaces on Twitter ensuing in the Chequered Flag Theory, signals with playlists and likes and follows and more while posing with as many 6 year old kids as possible, specifically requesting to be photographed next to them. He starts signalling about September.

June: his new merch is influenced by Dalí, who’s latest publicity came from a postmortem dna test proving the child claimed to be his wasn’t his after all.

He wears Lacoste and Palace (=Queen=Freddie Reign) and chequers almost non stop.

July: Louis messages Bentley’s mum on Twitter (after her proving to share absolutely everything for clicks and engagement) to tell her he loves his son

August: his new Album is announced: Faith In The Future. Reminds a lot of the Future Is Now shirt. Louis (and Harry!) use a lot of 7s. As in 7 years are enough?

September: LT2 Promo starts. There’s an onslaught of melittleladfreddie, see this post.

Conclusion

So. Here we are. I just wanted to explain how this time it’s different, by explaining the reasons and context of bbg related things happening in the past. that the things that are usually being called on to prove “he talked about freddie before” or “there were patterns before” are true, but they were in a different context.

so on the one hand, you’re right - we’ve sort of been here before, in 2019/2020 when they initially wanted to end it, but no one could predict covid would happen, so they had to adjust their plans. and it’s the same for this now: I am absolutely sure it will end. and if it doesn’t, it means there’s a reason they had to change plans again. remember, they have to consider Harry as well. and something shit like covid can always happen, as we’ve learned. doesn’t make freddie any more related to him though. I think this is truly the first opportunity for him to safely end it.

sorry this got so long, but honestly, it IS complicated and complex and i simplified it A LOT. if you have specific questions, feel free to inbox me!

To the end, my friends - Faith In The Future!

#babygate #bbg #freddie #louis #faith in the future #the future is now #honestly #feel free to send me an instance #of freddie stuff #or signs it was supposed to end in the past when it didnt #and ill do my best to show the context of it #ill just link this post from now on when someone asks me about the difference #lol #i stayed up for this #ugh

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thisblogisathing · 2 years

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Hello, long time no see.

I know I haven't posted on here in a really long time, but I think it's time I come out about something.

I was active on tumblr @thisblogisathing-moved from 2011 to early 2017, and moved for reasons I stated in the very beginning of my current account (the account this is posted on). I left out 1 reason, and that is the memories of a past relationship I had with someone of with the url of Galaxyphoenicx, real name Nic.

We met on a unofficial Rooster Teeth minecraft server called Drunk Rooster Server (DRS). We formed a friend group consisting of some of their IRL friends, and also some others we met on DRS. Sooner or later, Nic and I started a relationship. This would be a wonderful thing, but I was 15 years old and just dropped out of high school, and they were 20 going to college.

This is where I don't know where to continue. The entire year I was with them was blurry, because I was in a terrible mental state. I will state some of the things that I remember.

We spent most of our time in Skype calls, sometimes messaging

We would RP Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth. Yes, that includes ERP (Erotic Roleplay).

We would talk nonstop about meeting in New York, where they lived at the time, but never to where I lived.

We would spend time together almost every night up until 5:00AM, sometimes later

Near the end of our relationship, Nic got into an anime called Haikyuu and also met some people on tumblr that were also into that anime. I didn't like it, but I tried it out for them so I could be involved in the friend group and enjoy more time with them. That is when I started crushing on someone in that group almost immediately.

Around the time, I heard of Polyamorous relationships on tumblr. Being naive, and not understanding what entails, I asked Nic if we could have one. Nic said yes, and started dating someone else in the Haikyuu friend group. My crush said no to joining the relationship, and I got upset. I asked Nic to end the polyamorous relationship, and that it could go back to just us two.

I remember I was starting to get really anxious, and I was talking to my friends from the DRS group, while Nic was being silent. I was deciding on breaking up with Nic, since obviously communication was a big problem, and I was feeling like absolute garbage from the entire situation. Then some of the people from the Haikyuu group start messaging me, calling me manipulative and that I was a terrible person. That I needed help and to leave Nic alone.

I was in shock, I didn't understand what was happening and I panicked. I claimed that it wasn't me and that it was an alternative personality I had that was doing all that, even though I didn't have DID. I do admit that was INCREDIBLY stupid, and I should've just asked what the hell was going on and moved on from that point, but I didn't. Of course, the people messaging me said it was still my fault.

The rest is a complete blur. All I remember was kicking Nic from all our skype groups so that the friend group from DRS could comfort me without them seeing. I sometimes still wonder if the Haikyuu group is still friends with Nic, and do they know that Nic was dating a 15/16 year old while they were 20/21?

To conclude this, I know Nic isn't on tumblr anymore, or has changed their URL. They are still on twitter going by the same URL though, and I just wanted to get this out somewhere. I want the Haikyuu group to know that Nic was the one that manipulated me. Nic was the adult dating an underaged teen.

It took me years to get over the fact that I am NOT manipulative, and that I was the one that was manipulated. I couldn't look at Haikyuu for years. I couldn't even enjoy Phoenix Wright for while. This has been on my mind at least once a month for the last 8-9 years and I hope it can finally be put to rest in my brain once I press the post button.

Thanks to those that read.

-Miles

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ktarsims · 2 years

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Check In Tag!

I was tagged by @siancyaniam. Thank you!

Why did you choose your URL?

Once upon a time, a very long time ago now, I discovered role-playing in a furry community back when I had not even a concept of what ‘furry’ meant. I ran a role-playing guild there for a while, based on FFVIII, and at one point I ran a contest to name the world. My own submission was: K’tarianen - which did not win the votes. Since it wasn’t going to be used there, I’ve since used various forms of it for my online nicknames, or sometimes character names.

How long have you been on tumblr?

One of my first posts on this blog was actually the Pattern Hoarder Tutorial, which was made in Jan. 2017. So... about five and a half years now? I actually do have a personal tumblr that I almost never look at anymore, which was created at least five years before that.

Do you have a queue tag?

I do not. Nearly everything I post runs through my queue or is scheduled though.

Why did you start your blog in the first place?

I started it in order to post the Pattern Hoarder Tutorial in a place where it could be seen and would not soon disappear or be lost. Patterns used to be the only CC I actually used, and I hadn’t found a tutorial for multi-layer (or multi-color channel) patterns, so I wanted to share what I’d figured out with everyone else.

These days I consider that I ought to turn it into PDF’s so that it could be easily uploaded anywhere. Perhaps someday I’ll make time for that.

Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

My icon is a crop of a photo of my simself. Perhaps someday I’ll change it, but I’m fairly satisfied with it.

Why did you choose your header?

Uh. I don’t think I have a header.. do I? *goes to look* OH. I do. LMAO. It’s the music room of the Olijar mansion which I spent far too much time on and was extremely pleased with when I had finished. They’re supposed to be the main family in my main save, but I think so far they’ve actually had less ‘screen time’ than some of the other households.

What’s your post with the most notes?

Perhaps unsurprisingly, a tips post I made forever ago with things I find very valuable knowledge in-game.

How many mutuals do you have?

I have... not the faintest idea, honestly. I did a google search to figure out how to find that out, but met only with more confusion.

How many followers do you have?

Looks like the current count is 880, for whatever that’s worth. As a note, I don’t really keep track, nor do I check to see if people unfollow me, nor do I spend time to try to block people who might be inactive, bots, etc.

How many people do you follow?

458 currently. I feel like this number used to be higher, but probably some blogs were lost to Tumblr’s shenanigans, and some people deleted their blogs. I follow almost exclusively blogs who post TS3 content, as it’s the only game in the series I’ve yet played, but I do follow a few TS2 blogs. I’m also pretty picky in that I require posts to be properly tagged, for there not to be too many of them all the time, and usually for there to not be too many CC reblogs. I follow most creators directly, and a few CCfinds blogs in case I miss things, and don’t like to constantly see the same thing over and over again on my dash. Which I actually do keep up with most of the time.

Have you ever made a shitpost?

Uh. I think someone would have to define for me what a shitpost is before I could answer this question. xD I have heard the term a lot, but don’t actually know what it means, precisely. (When you use sarcasm to call something out?)

How often do you use tumblr every day?

Typically, every day. Though some days get skipped if I am too busy. And a few times, several months were skipped due to life taking over.

Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won?

I try to keep any disagreements I might have with other members of the sims 3 fandom on tumblr to private disagreements. Publicly posted arguments tend to blow up far too quickly and can result in unwanted consequences.

How do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts?

Emotional manipulation has long been a tactic to get people to spread things they’d otherwise ignore. It doesn’t really work on me. I’ll reblog it if I feel the message is worth sharing, and appropriate to my blog, or important enough to be shared here regardless of what it’s about.

Do you like tag games?

I think tag games are kinda fun, I just rarely find the time to participate in them. ^-^;;

Do you like ask memes?

Since most of my gameplay is strictly gameplay without any well defined stories to accompany them, I usually don’t have much to say for ask memes. Sometimes they’re fun! Sometimes I just have no clue what I’d say.

Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

Since, to my surprise, a lot of the creators I follow actually also follow me, I’d say there’s quite a few, so I won’t bother name-dropping.

Do you have a crush on a mutual?

I’m long past the age of crushes. xD They’re also very rare for me.

Ill tag: @murfeelee @simlicious @simsmono

#ts3 tumblr meme #ts3 simblr meme #nonsims #non sims #personal

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misshoneybee · 2 years

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⟣ 𝑌𝑂𝑈'𝑅𝐸 𝑀𝑌 𝐴𝐶𝐻𝐼𝐿𝐿𝐸𝑆 𝐻𝐸𝐸𝐿 ⟢

— 𝐼𝐼. 𝑌𝑂𝑈'𝑅𝐸 𝑆𝑇𝐼𝐿𝐿 𝐴𝐿𝐿 𝑂𝑉𝐸𝑅 𝑀𝐸 𝐿𝐼𝐾𝐸 𝐴 𝑊𝐼𝑁𝐸-𝑆𝑇𝐴𝐼𝑁𝐸𝐷 𝐷𝑅𝐸𝑆𝑆 𝐼 𝐶𝐴𝑁'𝑇 𝑊𝐸𝐴𝑅 𝐴𝑁𝑌𝑀𝑂𝑅𝐸

Masterpost — OFC Biography — Playlists — Chapter I — Chapter III

❧ Pairings | Post-Endgame!Bucky Barnes x Original Female Character, Previous Steve Rogers x Original Female Character

❧ Warnings | Mature content, explicit language, themes of grief and loss, references to mental health crises (anxiety, depression, ptsd, ocd), protective!Bucky, hurt/comfort

❧ Wordcount | ~6.4k

❧ Author’s Note | Translations are in the endnote. xx.

❧ Disclaimer | Dividers are by firefly-graphics. If you are a minor, or do not have your age in your bio, and I catch you interacting with this, you will be blocked. If you believe you were blocked unfairly, send me an ask with your url.

Hung my head as I lost the war, And the sky turned black like a perfect storm ( Clean | 1989 )

January 12, 2024

Several days had passed but somehow, with the invaluable help of a certain blonde biochemist, there was finally an end in sight to the moving process. All of the boxes from the old house had either been put into a storage unit upstate or brought up to her little apartment by a hoard of movers that she’d hired for the endeavor. Surrounded by cardboard stuffed to the brim and new furniture, Maggie wanted to feel content, but it didn’t seem to be in the cards for her.

Though they were labeled, and though Poppy had checked every single box to ensure that the contents belonged to her, she was still terrified to open them and finally begin to settle into the new place. Maybe it was because it meant that the next chapter in her life was finally starting and the other had actually ended; there were no more rewrites, nothing to change.

This was going to be her life now.

Her life without him.

Without Steve.

“You have to go or you’re going to miss your flight.” Maggie blocked Poppy from reentering her apartment with a stern look; the blonde had been so concerned about making sure that Maggie didn’t fall apart, she’d nearly forgotten that she had a redeye to catch that night. “Your uber is outside, just call me when you get to the airport and when you board and land and any other time you want to, okay?”

“I will.” Hiking her heavy purse higher on her shoulder, Poppy hesitated. Maggie still wasn’t herself and for the first time in more than two months, she’d be without the only lifeline that she’d come to rely on in the wake of disaster. Maybe it was too soon to leave her best friend; she could always send one of her colleagues to South Korea in her proxy. “Are you sure?”

“Pops, I will be okay.” Gripping her hands, Maggie swallowed nervously but put on a brave face. She had to be alone sometime—it wasn’t as if she was a risk to herself, she’d be quite fine. The idea of silence, however, frightened her; facing her thoughts alone was something she didn’t know if she’d ever have the strength to do but she’d just have to find out. “I promise.”

“Okay, I love you.” Poppy was a willowy woman, but she had a surprisingly robust grip as she pulled her shorter friend in for an exceedingly tight hug like she was trying to merge them into one being so she didn’t have to go, “I will be back in a week, okay?”

“Okay.” Nodding, Maggie exhaled and closed her eyes before finally releasing her friend, “Love you too.”

Once the door was closed, the tiny apartment suddenly felt cavernous. Every breath and step echoed off of the undecorated walls, each creaking floorboard sounded deafening. This was it. This was her new life, and she’d been sent reeling. There hadn’t been any tears, not today at least; that was the smallest type of win, but Maggie would take anything at this point.

Finding her television’s remote amidst the mess, she quickly turned on some oldies music that her parents had loved. It made her nostalgic for a time that was long gone instead of one that was recently past and still a little too painful to think about. Yanking the scrunchie from her wrist, she tied back the frizzy waves that had fallen limp after getting snowed on earlier that afternoon and got to work.

She knew she had to unpack; there was no way she’d be able to sleep with the knowledge that all of this clutter was just waiting for her outside of her bedroom door. Maybe the repetitive ritual could bring her some comfort; she had a clean slate. This was a blank page on the desk before her.

Humming along to Frankie Valli quietly, she used one of the box cutters in her little tool kit to slice through the heavy-duty packing tape that had protected her belongings from the bumps and bruises of travel. Opening each box, she moved down the line in a surprisingly efficient manner; remove object, unwrap, place where needed, rinse, repeat. Plates, glasses, the mismatched bowls that she’d insisted she needed from an estate sale some years ago in college.

Eventually, she’d find a place for everything, but she needed to survey and take stock of what she had before figuring out the best way to organize the empty cabinets that she and Poppy had lined earlier that afternoon as the movers set up her living room. Unfolding one of the cardboard flaps to yet another box, she could feel the irritation as a frown flitted across her face.

Someone had mislabeled one of the boxes; filled to the brim with sweaters, it should have been placed in the bedroom rather than the kitchen. Carefully, she pulled out a multicolored stack of wool and soft cotton before spying more tucked beneath them. There were at least ten sweaters that were much larger than her own and still had a familiar cologne clinging to the fabric’s fibers.

Almost as if she were afraid that it would ruin one of the shirts, Maggie cautiously brushed her fingertips over a familiar article and suddenly the air was pulled from her lungs; it felt as though she was suffocating again. With a single touch, so many memories that she’d tried to close a door on came rushing in like a flash flood. What had her therapist said about breathing through the pain? And the anxiety? Something about some box method?

In a twisted tale of irony, a box had been what brought her to the edge. She could feel her lip quiver as she pulled the piece from its cardboard home, the rest of the sweaters discarded uncaringly on the counter somewhere. Pressing her face into the soft, worn heather gray fabric, she inhaled as deeply as she could; the tears that seeped into the knit and momentarily discolored it weren’t born from heartache. No. Maggie hadn’t anticipated the wave of heartbreaking anger that flooded her as she yanked it over her head, as if wearing it would bring him back to her, as if it would change anything at all.

Surrounded by the smell of clean laundry that was balanced with a fresh, almost green fragrance of what used to be Steve’s favorite cologne, the floodgates opened and the current ripped through, decimating everything in its wake. Wrapping her arms around herself, the sobs wracked her entire body.

He was gone. Steve was gone and she was alone in the world again. She was alone and it was no one’s fault except her own; she’d told him to leave, that it was okay, that she would be fine. Lying through her teeth, Maggie had willingly let him go but if she’d just stayed silent, he wouldn’t have left. Maybe she would have harbored a huge secret, always knowing he’d wanted Peggy, but at least she wouldn’t have been alone.

No. It never would have been that way.

She’d had to let him go; there was no way she could have lived every single day wondering who he loved or if she was enough. Of course, she knew that, but it didn’t make this any easier. It didn’t lessen the burn or dull the sting of mourning someone who was out there, quite alive, living the life that they’d always dreamed of, without you. Grabbing one of the cheap, fragile Ikea mugs that she’d purchased on a whim, she hurled it at the wall with a feral scream in a blind rage.

Anything was better than the excruciating pain of her heart being slowly fed through a paper shredder. Chest rising and falling as she stared at the shattered porcelain, Maggie felt transported back to an early summer day five years before; a moment when Steve had seen her in a puddle of her own tears, surrounded by shattered glass, and had begun to fall in love.

No.

Holding on to the anger was all she had—it demanded to be felt and who was she to deny herself this twisted catharsis? From the counter, she picked up another mug. And another, hurling them at the blank white wall and letting them fragment and spread across the linoleum floor like hazardous confetti. Switching to plates, then bowls, Maggie searched the dinnerware’s shattered remains for any emotion other than excruciating pain.

Her fingers wrapped around a navy-blue mug handle that caught her eye just before she could wind back to throw it as well. A sharp inhale was pulled through her lips as she carefully grasped it with both hands. Of all of the things to survive the demolition, Steve’s stupid, favorite mug had somehow come out unscathed.

The fucking cat wearing his suit. The dumb pun printed beneath it. The goddamn chip in the handle from when it had slipped from someone’s hands as they washed it in the sink. It was the same even though nothing else was. Just like all of her dishes that had shattered, she did as well. Tears finally came as she sat on the cold, kitchen floor, ignoring a sharp pain in her foot and a pounding from some irate neighbor at the door.

It hadn’t even been one night—she hadn’t even slept in her new bed—and she was probably about to be evicted from the quiet building without even having lived there. Maybe her little tantrum-turned-disturbance had been overkill, but she couldn’t make herself move; she couldn’t make herself do anything.

Once again, Maggie had no choice but to stay there forever, surrounded by only broken glass and her own tears.

Dr. Raynor was the worst part of his day. Every single day, thanks to the government’s ‘exceptionally benevolent and lenient’ pardon, Bucky had to attend therapy until his doctor said that they felt as though ‘they’d seen a marked improvement in his emotional stability’ and it was time to reduce his hours. Every time she made an effort to relate to him, to try and equalize their very different life experiences, he wanted to shove his fingers so deep inside of his ears, that he’d go deaf so he didn’t have to listen to the grate of her voice anymore.

Then again, if he’d gone deaf, he wouldn’t have heard the barrage of breaking glass against a wall and a short silence that was punctuated by a painful sob from the apartment next to his own—from the apartment that now belonged to an ‘M. Hall’ according to the buzzer downstairs. He hadn’t seen Maggie since he’d, coincidentally, followed her to her new home—her new home which was at the same location as his current residence in some weird, twist of fate. Or irony.

Whichever was more appropriate.

He didn’t know the woman well. Hell, he barely knew her at all aside from her job, the fact that she’d been in a relationship with Steve for five years, and that she’d become something of a pain in his ass. Mixed signals seemed to be the young woman’s specialty; she’d saved him from an alien attack in the midst of battle, called a senator and cursed at them in his defense, then turned into something of an ice queen that seemed to hate his guts.

Okay, maybe he shouldn’t have called her a head shrink but, in his defense, he didn’t know her actual job title; he only knew what Steve had said about her work in passing. In short, neither really seemed to like the other, they hadn’t even had a full conversation, but he’d made a promise to Steve before he left to watch after her. Allowing her to be mugged in her new apartment would certainly break that promise quicker than he’d made it.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through him as he sprinted past his own door to hers instead. Pulling the folding knife from his back pocket, Bucky pounded against the door with the side of his fist as he shouted her name. Several long seconds passed with no answer aside from muffled cries and his glove hand reached for the doorknob. Finding it unlocked, his brow furrowed; keeping his knife at the ready, he kicked it open and watched as it bounced off of the doorstop as he barged inside to locate and neutralize the threat.

Instead of an armed intruder holding her at gunpoint, he found a wisp of woman, crumpled on the floor, and surrounded by various shapes and colors of glass shards. An old sweatshirt with ‘Camp Lehigh’ emblazoned on the front swallowed her small frame as she sat in the center of the kitchen. The sweater was familiar; it used to belong to his best friend. As red-rimmed eyes flew to him, Maggie let out a sharp gasp of surprise. Just a moment after she’d heard the door kicked in, she was on her feet, wielding her own knife that she’d grabbed from the counter.

Her muscles tensed, readying themselves for a fight before her sluggish brain caught up to her body. The unfamiliar intruder who’d, rudely, kicked in her door (which was thankfully, still on its hinges), was none other than James Buchanan Barnes. He looked different now, though it had only been a few days since she’d seen him; the scruff on his face had been neatly trimmed into just a shadow and his hair was cropped short but the familiar blue eyes gave him away before anything else. Struck by a sick sense of déjà vu from five years before, Maggie felt a vague wave of nausea.

It was different now; she was stronger and weathered but that familiar pain still cut deep.

“Maggie—”

“Fuck.” Exhaling, both embarrassed and relieved, she felt her face burn red as the adrenaline in her blood settled, the cortisol returning to its baseline as her body left its fight-or-flight mode. Carefully setting down the knife and mug, Maggie used the cuff of the sweater to wipe at her red cheeks and runny nose. “You broke into my house?”

“You were crying!” Bucky defended incredulously, closing the almost too sharp knife, and slipping it back into his pocket. He’d die on the hill that his response had been more than appropriate; it had sounded like she’d been endangered, and he’d been ready to take down some unidentified threat. In all honesty, she should have been thanking him.

“So what?” Maggie demanded, throwing her hands up as she pushed back stubbornly, “People cry!”

Running a hand over his tired face, his voice was low. “I thought you were getting fuckin’ mugged, Jesus.” Relief had swept over him when he’d realized she was alone but was quickly replaced by an unsettling discomfort at seeing the woman in tears; crying girls weren’t really his forte.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she sighed softly. Defensiveness had always been her go-to deflection technique. Maybe his concerns had been valid and maybe she should be a little more grateful that it was him checking on her and not their landlord kicking her out.

Before she could apologize, his brows had drawn together as he mildly observed, “You’re hurt.”

That much was obvious—an ‘okay’ person didn’t have meltdowns over ratty, old sweatshirts and cheap drinkware from a consignment store. Crossing her arms, she ignored the quip as she let her first thought roll out of her mouth, “You cut your hair.”

“You cut your foot.” Bucky deadpanned, nodding to the floor where she stood.

Looking down at the tacky, dated flooring, her nose crinkled as the pain finally washed over her. While her right foot was unharmed, the left had taken the brunt of her own assault. A few small pieces of glass had broken her skin, but the evening’s magnum opus was the large, jagged piece that was sticking out of her instep. Several bloody footprints made their way around the small area where she’d been able to stand.

“Oh.” She let out blankly, looking mildly surprised as she lifted her foot to inspect the injury, carefully touching the sticky blood. Replacing her foot on the ground, careful to keep from bearing any of her weight on it, Maggie quickly looked for the best way out of the situation. The floor was covered in glass, so that was a nonstarter, at least until she could grab the broom. Or she could climb over the counter? Maybe she’d have to sacrifice a little bit of her dignity in the meantime, but it might be her only way.

Her cost-benefit analysis was quickly halted as Bucky strode into the kitchen, his heavy boots crunching the glass beneath them into finer pieces with each step. An arm around her waist and one under her knees lifted her up into unfamiliar arms as he grumbled, “Come on.”

“Oh!” Awkwardly, Maggie shook her head but wrapped an arm hesitantly around his neck anyway out of fear of being dropped on to the glass covered floor, “Uh, you really don’t have to do this. I could just—”

Shaking his head, Bucky carried her back into the living room as he uncomfortably muttered, avoiding her eyes, “Better this than a trip to the emergency room.”

Nodding, she searched for a change of subject before murmuring, “It looks nice.” His confused gaze finally met hers, his curiosity winning out, as she continued, only slightly teasing, “Your hair. Really. Were you tired of the whole…Jesus look or—”

“Do you ever stop talking?” If she didn’t know any better, Maggie would have thought she’d seen the tiniest ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he cut her off.

Shaking her head, she shot him a wry smile back, “No.” Word vomit was her specialty, even at the worst of times.

With a grunt, he sat her down, surprisingly gently, on what was possibly the ugliest couch that he’d ever seen. It was some emerald green, velvet thing with gaudy gold accents and it was an eyesore, in his opinion. “You got a first aid kit?”

“Yeah,” Gesturing vaguely towards the back hall, Maggie quickly pushed on, “It’s under the bathroom sink but really, you don’t have to get it. I can—”

“What?” Raising an unimpressed eyebrow, Bucky crossed his arms as he nodded to her still-bloody foot, “You gonna walk on that and fuck it up even worse?”

Offended, Maggie ruffled and sat up straighter whilst trying not to jostle her throbbing foot or make a face that would allude to her pain, “And what if I was? I can do whatever—”

“God, you’re so fuckin’ stubborn.” Grumbling, he pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a ‘soothing breath’ like Dr. Raynor had unironically instructed him to, “Just let me help.”

Trying not to cry from a mixture of both pain and mild embarrassment, Maggie gave a small nod, avoiding his eyes as the pain won out, “Fine.”

At her acquiescence, Bucky made his way back towards her bathroom. Their neighboring apartments were almost mirrors of one another, so he easily located the washroom; reaching under the sink, he grabbed the clear, blue plastic box that looked more like a mobile doctor’s office than a first aid kit. Setting it aside, he quickly washed his hands, pondering when the fuck it was that he’d become Harry Helpful.

On the couch, Maggie crossed her ankle over her leg, propping it up against her knee to she could see the damage that she’d done to her foot’s sole. The pale skin was smeared with crimson blood, some had already dried into dark burgundy lines that had sunk into the shallow print of her foot. The large piece of glass practically had an arrow pointing to it, begging for it to be removed. Carefully, she pinched it between two fingers but before she could extract it, a hand wrapped around her wrist, and she jumped.

“Wait!” Bucky’s face was reprimanding as he shook his head, “You don’t go around pulling shit like that out before someone looks at it.”

Hesitantly, he took the seat beside her, sitting on the edge of the green plush with his back as straight as a board. Looking between her foot and her eyes, without words, he asked Maggie for permission to actually help her. After a moment of looking at him with narrowed, suspicious eyes, she finally gave a small nod. Silently, his large, steady hand wrapped around her ankle and let it rest on the hard muscle of his black-jean clad thigh.

Wincing, Maggie propped herself up on her hands, her fingers digging into the couch as he used a pair of tweezers to remove the smaller, less precarious pieces first. Each time a shard was removed from where it had been embedded in her skin, he dropped it on to the black hand towel that he’d found. Thoroughly checking the injured appendage, he occasionally maneuvered her foot, twisting from the joint like she was some kind of posable doll.

Working in relative silence, aside from the buzz of music that had long since faded into the background and his occasional, quiet apology when she hissed as he pulled out a piece was stuck in particularly deep, Bucky was surprisingly gentle for being such a large, almost-brash man. The efficiency with which he worked was definitely appreciated; the sooner the torture was over, the better.

From the blank look behind her eyes, one that he knew all too well, Bucky was completely aware that her mind was a thousand miles away from her body as she fought to ignore the pain. To the untrained eye, she would have seemed unbothered, but he knew she wasn’t. Every time her breath caught in her throat, or her eyes fluttered shut, or the muscle in her calf gave a little twitch from one of the more painful pieces being removed, he noticed.

Finally, after all of the smaller shards of glass had been removed, the only piece remaining was the monstrosity protruding from the delicate arch of her foot. Slightly smaller than a silver dollar, its jagged edges were an imposition, and it couldn’t remain implanted there forever. As he lifted her foot to get a closer look, she was silently grateful for the pedicures that Poppy had insisted upon as they shopped for home décor earlier in the week.

“This doesn’t seem like it hit a bone or anything,” He murmured, pressing his thumb beside it to check how deep it was embedded in her foot, “but this isn’t gonna be fun.”

“Just do it.” He met her eyes, his brows raised in mild surprise, and she shrugged. Before she could say another word, while holding her skin taut, he’d pinched the piece between two fingers and pulled it straight out of her foot. Her hand shot out and grasped his metal forearm as she winced, “Motherfucker!”

“It’s out.” Mumbling, he grabbed some gauze and pressed it hard against the wound that, surprisingly, wasn’t bleeding as badly as he’d anticipated. He could do stitches but they wouldn't be necessary; it was a bit of a blessing. He wasn't sure how well she'd have taken to his offer of stitching her up anyway.

The feeling of her hand on his arm was foreign; people didn’t touch Bucky. In fact, most people ran the other way when they saw him or crossed the street to avoid him. He didn’t blame them. For some reason though, Maggie didn’t seem too concerned with all that he’d done before. It was kind of refreshing to be disliked for something other than his past transgressions.

“God dammit. You couldn’t have given me a countdown?” She whined, finally expressing her discomfort for the first time since almost maiming herself.

“Countdowns are for kids.” Her complaints finally pulled the ghost of a smile from him as he picked up a cotton ball. Dousing it in the sharp, sterile smelling alcohol, he chuckled, “Steve never said that you swore like a sailor.”

“Well, I’m glad that he didn’t disclose my best trait.” Taking a deep breath, she tried to focus elsewhere; in the slice on her foot, she could feel her heartbeat.

“Such a goody-two-shoes, I didn’t think you had it in you.” Bucky shrugged innocently as she cracked an eye open to glare at him.

Her typically melodic voice was flat as she deadpanned, calling him by her favorite nickname, “Dick.”

“This is gonna sting.” Ignoring her retort, he carefully swept the cold liquid over her skin. Maggie all but hissed as the disinfectant burned like flames licking up through the veins of her legs.

The hand resting on his forearm squeezed tighter as she tried to channel all of her pain elsewhere. To anyone else, her grip would have been painful, but Bucky didn’t even bat an eye as he continued tending to her foot, “Jesus fucking shit, you did that on purpose—”

Cocking an eyebrow at her, he joked, “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

Unable to censor herself, distracted by the momentarily agonizing pain, Maggie jabbed back, “She’s dead too, so no.”

Bucky’s hand stilled at the unexpected disclosure as his mouth opened and closed several times, floundering for some appropriate response, “Shit, uh—”

Blood rushed to her cheeks, and Maggie shook her head, feeling almost a little bad about dropping that bomb on him while he was only trying to get her mind off of the pain, “It was more than ten years ago. It’s fine.”

“I’m sorry.” Ducking his head back down, he adjusted her foot gently with his warm, right hand that contrasted sharply with the chill of the other that bled through his leather glove.

“It’s fine, really. I was just being a bitch because it hurt.” Leaning back against the arm of the couch, Maggie shrugged, “And you didn’t know about that. I make those stupid fucking jokes but my therapist—”

Cutting herself off, she grimaced, somehow even more embarrassed than she was before. She didn’t know him well enough to make those jabs, let alone, talk about her therapist. How fucked up Maggie was in the head was her own business….and also Carolyn’s, but only because she paid her.

“No. It was kind of funny.” A hesitant smile formed crookedly on his lips as he checked to see if the bleeding had subsided, “Just didn’t expect that from…you.”

“Expect the unexpected, I guess.” Letting out a quiet, amused exhale of relief, she searched for a new subject. ‘Dead parent’ talk could open too many doors that she wanted to remain closed, for the time being.

“So, where’d you learn first aid anyway?”

“Azzano in the war.” He muttered as he set aside the blood-soaked cotton and inspected the bottom of her foot before concluding that there was no more glass hiding in the wound and that the bleeding had finally slowed.

As Bucky butterflied the laceration closed, she couldn’t resist the way he’d left himself wide open to be at the receiving end of one of the geriatric jokes that she had used to tease Steve with, “So, it’s not outdated at all.”

Broad shoulders shook with a quiet laugh; few people were as fearless as Maggie was when tiptoeing around his past. It was almost nice. Wrapping her foot tightly in some more gauze, he secured the dressing to itself as he shrugged, “At least there’s not glass in it anymore.”

Holding her foot steady by the heel, Bucky stood before replacing it on top of one of the many pillows that they’d been surrounded by on all sides. She murmured, “Thank you.”

With a small nod to her foot, he added, “Keep it elevated.” Looking around the floor that looked more like a demolition zone, Bucky’s brow furrowed, “Where’s your broom?”

“No, it’s fine. I can get it—” Immediately disregarding his instruction, Maggie moved to get up in search of the object.

Gently placing his hand on her shoulder, Bucky pressed her back into the couch easily with a reproachful sigh, “You don’t let anyone else do shit, do you?”

The question was rhetorical but they both knew the answer. Though it had gotten easier over time, accepting help was still a foreign concept to the typically too-independent woman. Never again would she rely on anyone except for herself, but this wasn’t life or death, so she surrendered begrudgingly with an annoyed frown on her face as she sighed, “It’s in the closet.”

Retrieving the broom and dustpan from the alcove in her kitchen, Bucky quickly began the process of turning her kitchen into less of a safety hazard. Picking up the larger pieces, he tossed them into the trash before sweeping up the smaller pieces as she watched him.

It wasn’t just her, was it? The entire situation was completely absurd, and Maggie couldn’t stop herself as she let out a snort of a laugh, her hand covering her mouth to try and stifle it, but it was too late. He’d already heard.

Looking over at the flushed woman, he couldn’t help but smile as he raised an eyebrow at her curiously, “Somethin’ funny?”

At that, Maggie finally broke. It was an unfamiliar feeling as the laughter left her; she hadn’t laughed in nearly three months, and she thought she’d forgotten how to until that moment. The muscles in her stomach contracted almost painfully; it ached but it was kind of nice, even a little liberating. Bucky watched her from the next room, amused but mostly concerned that the tightly wound woman had finally cracked.

“Yeah.” It took a few more moments before she’d calmed down enough to get any words out, wiping her eyes and trying to breathe evenly as she fought to keep from cackling again as she explained, “No, yes. It's just, my pardoned, ex-assassin, hundred-year-old neighbor is just…cleaning my kitchen after I had a fucking meltdown about my life falling to pieces.”

Nodding fairly at her observation as she resumed her periodic giggling, Bucky shrugged, “Didn’t realize I looked so young.”

“I feel certifiable.” Shaking her head, she pressed her face into her hands as the exhaustion set in.

“You said it, not me.” He jabbed, stifling a small grin as he brushed the last of the glass into the trash can.

Maggie gave him the middle finger, though the slight sparkle in her dark golden eyes told him that it was only in jest, “Fuck off, Barnes.”

“And it could have been worse,” Bucky wiped away the last of the smudged blood from the floor before making his way back into the living room and tossing the black towel to rest over his shoulder. Crossing his arms, he leaned against the wall, “At least you didn’t get to the wine glasses.”

“That would have been a tragedy, but it’s a good thing there’s beer in the fridge.” Pausing, Maggie took a moment to look at him. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as she’d initially thought; like her, maybe he was just a little prickly at first before you got to know him. After all, an apathetic asshole didn’t help someone like he had.

Steve wouldn’t have loved an apathetic asshole enough to die for him.

Maybe she felt a little bad for calling Bucky that when she was complaining to Poppy earlier; she made a mental note for the future.

Finally, Maggie met his eyes and cautiously extended an olive branch, “Do you want one?”

Friends did that; they shared beers and chatted. They’d both lost someone that, at one time or another, had felt like a piece of themselves, so maybe this was the first step to allowing that cut to finally scar over.

“Sure.” As she moved to stand, he stilled her once again but with only a reprimanding look, that time, “Can you just, fucking, stay sitting down? I can manage grabbing a few beers from the fridge.”

Rolling her eyes, Maggie actually listened to him and fluffed the pillow beneath her foot. instead. The pain had already begun to subside; at least she hadn’t needed stitches. She’d gone ten years without needing them; twice in six months would have been some kind of record.

Like it was nothing, Bucky popped the caps from the glass bottles with his vibranium thumb and handed one to her before sitting on the other end of the couch, “Thank you.”

With his lips pressed together, he nodded. Taking a pull of the drink, he paused before looking between her wrapped foot and her eyes, “You’re gonna walk around on it as soon as I leave, aren’t you?”

“Honestly?” Taking a sip, Maggie swallowed and nodded pensively, “Yeah, probably.”

Sitting around and waiting to heal was a torture she didn’t want to live through again. Not so soon. She could deal with a few days of pain as long as she wasn’t confined to one place.

“Figured.” Exhaling a quiet laugh, he shook his head. She wasn’t a machine, but he was pretty certain that she thought she was.

At one point, he’d thought he was—in fact, at one point, he had been but that was in the past. Changing the subject, he poked, “Don’t take this the wrong way but you kind of look like shit.”

“Has anyone ever told you how charming you are?” She lilted, narrowing her eyes at him. Of course, it was true—frizzy tendrils framed her ruddy face with swollen, glassy eyes and she had blood on her leg and hands—but he hadn’t needed to say it. Sitting the cold bottle on a coaster, Maggie used her fingers to comb through her hair before pulling it back again. She sniffed haughtily, “At least I still look better than you.”

“Hm.” With a grunt, Bucky tipped back his bottle but didn’t argue because he couldn’t, not really. From a totally objective place, he could acknowledge that Maggie was beautiful—in an uptight, aggravating, almost-unattainable sort of way. But she was off-limits. Maybe Steve was gone but it felt wrong to think of her in any way except for looking after her like he’d asked of Bucky.

“Look, can we just…” Trailing off, Maggie swallowed the lump in her throat. It wasn’t a hard question; she had no reason to be nervous. “Call a truce?”

Sitting up straighter, Bucky raised an eyebrow at her suggestion, interested to hear her out, “A truce?”

“You fought in a war, for God’s sake. I know that you know what a truce is, James.” The condescension that dripped from her lips was playful and she had to stifle a smile but, at his annoyed expression, she continued, “Just let me apologize.”

“Apologize?” At that, he was actually slightly surprised.

With a sly smile and the same biting tone, Maggie began again, “An apology is—”

He cut her off flatly, exhaustion behind his steel blue eyes, “I know what a goddamn apology is.”

“Good.” The word was clipped, and she sighed quietly. Vulnerability was something that had become foreign to her in the past months. Meeting his eyes, her voice softened slightly, “I’m sorry for being…kind of a bitch at the bar last week. I was having a really bad day.”

Then again, every day had been a ‘really bad day’ since Steve had left. Living in a constant state of anxiety was too taxing to deal with; socializing had become something of a begrudged task rather than a willing activity.

“Well, I’m sorry for calling you a head shrink.” Bucky murmured; his lips pressed together in a slight grimace.

The corner of her lips twitched with amusement as she gave him a courteous nod, “Forgiven.”

“You too.” Sharing a hesitant smile, a white flag had been raised for the moment. As she held her bottle up, he leaned over and clinked it with his. “So, why the hell did you move to Brooklyn anyway? Not that I don’t like having a banshee for a neighbor—”

“You’re such a dick.” Maggie complained, resituating another pillow beneath her foot. Cynically, she shrugged, “I just love the smell of gentrification in the morning.” At his mild amusement, and continued silence, she exhaled. Apparently, her jokes weren’t enough. It wasn’t as if Bucky didn’t know Steve’s connection to the borough; he, of course, had the same one but she knew she’d feel like a little schoolgirl if she admitted the whole truth to him so it was best to stay as vague as she could.

“Fresh start, you know. Born in Philly, raised in Manhattan, spent a few years in Ukraine—”

“Really?” His brows lifted in mild surprise.

“Да, два года в Корпусе мира.” Maggie couldn’t help but grin at his reaction.

“Нет, дерьма.” At her fluency, Bucky gave an impressed nod. Maybe he’d been wrong to think she was an open book—as it turned out, she was full of surprises that he hadn’t expected.

“Then I moved upstate and…I landed here.” She finished lamely, picking up her bottle to take another sip, “I can take the ferry and get to the foundation or GRC headquarters in half an hour so, it works.”

A carefully blank expression found its way on to his face at her mention of the Global Repatriation Council, “You’re working for the GRC?”

“Not really.” Shaking her head, she soured at the thought, “Pepper asked me to liaise with them because they wanted an ‘in’ with the Stark Foundation.” If she had a choice, she wouldn’t have anything to do with the council; sure, she understood the reasoning behind its creation but the sheer number of armed guards and troops that they’d deployed around the world was unsettling, “Personally, I don’t agree with them but I’m ‘playing ball.’”

Maybe he took back what he’d thought before, maybe they’d get along better than he’d originally anticipated. Raising his bottle to her, he nodded, “Well, give ‘em hell.”

Shaking her head, amusedly, she redirected the question back to him; she would have liked to have avoided talking about herself if she could get away with it, “Why are you back in Brooklyn? You could have gone anywhere you wanted.”

“It’s home.” The simple words were loaded; years of having had his brain scrambled and doing the bidding of everyone except himself had left him untethered. Maybe he hadn’t lived there in nearly a century, but it was all that he’d known before everything had happened. It was the only thing that made sense. Bucky shrugged, “Hasn’t changed all that much so it made sense.”

“At least some things stay the same.” Maggie mused, peeling at the sticky label on the sweating bottle; though her voice was light, the weight of the words was far heavier.

Quietly, he chanced a look at the woman whose tired eyes were lost somewhere far away as he nodded understandingly, “Yeah, sometimes they do.”

❧ Author's Note | “Да, два года в Корпусе мира." - Yeah, two years in the Peace Corps. “Нет, дерьма.” - No shit. I do not speak Russian or Ukrainian so everything is done through translation apps! Let me know if I make any mistakes, please! Additionally, this was written long before the present Russian invasion of Ukraine. If you’d like to learn more or help, here are some resources.

#fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x original character #bucky barnes x original female character #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky barnes #original character #original female character #oc #ofc #misshoneybee: mosaic broken hearts #misshoneybee: you're my achilles heel #misshoneybee: series #ymah #did the love affair maim queue too?

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tamtam-go92 · 2 years

Text

Check in tag

I was tagged by @aondaneedles. Thank you!

Why did you choose your url?

Tamtam, or rather Tam has been my nickname in real life for a while. It's just short for my actual name. And you know Tomtom navigation? They've had that slogan Tomtom go back when navigation systems where the hottest sh*t. So Tomtom -> Tamtam you get it? I use that name only for at least 15 years. 92 is just the year I was born since tamtam_go was already taken.

How long have you been on tumblr?

I had to check but my first reblog is form April 2016 so I guess it's been my tumblr birthday this month!

Do you have a queue tag?

No, I queue my usual gameplay posts, everything else I post is just random stuff that comes to my mind or I find funny/important/sad/sweet enough to reblog

Why did you start your blog in the first place?

I was pretty active on deviantArt but stopped doing art when my drawing tablet broke and I noticed that some of my mutuals there were going away to tumblr, god knows why. And I just followed them and then I discovered simblr and then I really got back into simming and here we are now...

Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

It's my simself, a really outdated one though. In between I've had my hair short and bleached and now it's grown back above collarbone. Someone once pointed out my simself looks like Loki Beaker...

Why did you choose your header?

So this is a relict from my DeviantArt days and I've used this header ever since I have this account. It's the last piece I uploaded on DA and was probably my best one xD I really want something more fitting to the theme of my blog but I really just can't let go of it...

What’s your post with the most notes?

I really don't know. I usually don't get many notes on my posts but that's okay. It's probably one of my attack on titan posts. This one has 56. My most popular sim post was the one about Sam Cordial and Gabe Green's messed up wedding for a long time and could still be it!

How many mutuals do you have? / How many followers do you have?

I rougly counted around 30? And I have exactly 150 Followers.

How many people do you follow?

193. I'm picky, okay?

Have you ever made a shitpost?

I don't really know. What exactly is the definition of a shitpost?

How often do you use tumblr each day?

I try to check in at least once a day except for weekends, I try to stay offline on weekends as much as possible. But usually I'm online all day anyway.

Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won?

I did have a small fight about the genetical aspects of the Naruto couple NejiHina. Listen, I don't engage in shipping wars. I turn 30 this year, I'm over this. And I don't have anything against relationships between cousins, you do you, okay? And I agree that in a historical view, Neji and Hinata should probably have married and would probably have married. I only told that one person, that genetically speaking Neji and Hinata are half-siblings since their fathers are identical twins. That was all. They were pretty pissed at me and asked me how that made them half-siblings. I tried explaining but I dropped it after another angry response...

How do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts?

I don't reblog?

Do you like tag games?

Yes! I tend to be an oversharer so it's great to blow some steam xD

Do you like ask games?

Same xD

Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

I'm super honored that @deedee-sims is my mutual!

Do you have a crush on a mutual?

No.

I'm tagging: @zabossu, @sushigal007, @penig, @sixamese-simblr, @kimbr3. Feel free to ignore if you already did this!

#tag game #check in tag

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knightofameris · 6 months

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hi ames !! long time no see!

was just thinking about you :] i don’t even know if you’re going to see this or respond to this, i scrounged around to find your blog cause i think you changed your url? if i’m not mistaken? sorry if i’m wrong! it’s been a long two years and life’s been really really busy. it really catches up to you, huh?

if you do respond to this, do let me know how you are! i really loved talking to you back then, more than you know :’) how’s everything going for you? what are your interests now?

oh yeah! i still think about that haikyuu fic you once recommended me KWNDWKDJ the fly high, baby! one. i came across it the other day and thought of you—maybe that’s why i’m doing this, heh. anyways i hope you’re doing well and that you’re drinking water and making sure your pillow is cool at night :)

see you around, lovely!

<3🧸

sent in April 5th 2023

Oh my god I’ve missed you! And everyone for that matter. I just thought what the hell I’ll check my inbox for fun. I finally logged into tumblr after a long time. I’ve definitely changed my pfp from haikyuu to genshin but I don’t recall changing my URL! (I’m not even that obsessed with genshin anymore lol)

It really has been a long two years… I’ll be 23 in less than a month and it’s crazy I started this blog at 19. If you see this my lovely teddy bear anon, I hope you also tell me how you’ve been!

The last two years was a blast, I moved out, worked, paid my own way through college and rent. I graduated, granted it took five years but I did take a bit off from university! And I am more than thankful. I’m still looking for a job, I’ve since moved home but my parents can no longer hold anything against me now. I might switch career paths from what I studied but I’ll stick to what I did for at least 3 years for now. I have a boyfriend of one year (plus two months!) now and he absolutely adores when I gush about my fandoms and theories. Vice versa when he talks about his interests (mainly video games and the best I can explain which is STONKS but like for CSGO [at least currently]). Literally he’s a man written by a woman that came out of my fanfic dreams. Oh and we play games with each other sometimes and watch all the anime xD

During the past two years I was pretty burnt out I had no obsession which made me extra espresso depresso. But I’m on medication and doing a lot better that I’m able to once again be obsessed with a fandom (main: one piece. Secondary: Honkai star rail).

And that’s the tldr! Adulthood sucks but my friends and I still text and catch up when we can. And my boyfriend lives about 30 minutes away which isn’t too bad for me :3 (pre moving back home and even now that I’m back home xD)

I think about fly high baby sometimes… I still have yet to reread it cus DAMN did that hit me in the feels.

I hope you’re doing well too. I hope life is treating you in the way it should! If you see this, pls let me know how you’re doing!!! I really do think about everyone’s whose paths have crossed with mine during this journey.

Sleep well <3

#a.responds #from.nonnie #a.anonfamily!!#from.🧸#I think that’s how I tagged things #I’ll fix later lol #also truly my bf is a man from fanfiction #smut and all HAKDHAJDHSHDHS

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eatabag0fdicks · 2 years

Text

I have no followers so this rant is more like a diary entry but I gotta let it out. Every time I get the thoughts, images and memories of my ex outta my head his brother or friends try getting in touch with me again. I've made it more than clear that I want nothing to do with him, his family or friends, any part of that life I had, but that's not good enough. I'm finally starting to take back my life and I can't say it's easy because I'm only 140 days into recovery after 18 years of active addiction. This is all new to me, but I'm so proud of how far I've come in almost 5 months and granted if I never met this person I wouldn't have ended up where I am today but I don't owe him anything! The promise I made to myself of becoming the best me I can be is way more important than a dope sick promise I made to him about "forever." I am not a punching bag. I am not a sex toy. I sure as shit ain't an excuse. Even after the hell he put me through I said, about 2 months clean and still in rehab, "I can't put money on your books but I can be a friend, I just need you to understand why I need time and why I left. All I wanted was to get clean and be happy and I could not do that while walking your path. You were extremely abusive and to this day are still trying to manipulate me. You're sick, as am I, but we need to take care of our own recovery first and foremost and when I feel like you're no longer going to do damage and when I will no longer put up with it, I will try to be your friend." That wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear.. I've always been the codependent that falls for the narcissist and it always turned out horrendous, but this time we were also co-addicts which turned an abusive relationship into some shitstorm cycle of insanity. I lost so much because of him and because I was too scared to leave. He always said "well at least you have your parents, as long as you have them you'll never truly be hungry (broke, homeless, etc.)" Well then why the fuck was I hungry, broke, homeless, etc.?! They love me no matter what but they won't cosign on my bullshit and I wish I never cosigned on his! I wish I saw from another perspective just how fucked up that situation was. After his reaction to me saying he was abusive, I stopped answering the calls. I couldn't block the facility number but once he was extradited I answered one more time and told him I do not miss him, I do not trust him or believe a word he says, I will not help him, but I genuinely wish him the best and will pray for him. I hung up and the next time that call came through I blocked it (different facility actually had a block option). Since then (about 3 months ago) I get calls, texts, follow requests, even password change emails once a week, give or take. Always from the same locations, numbers, urls - his brother and his friends. I should expect it but I can't handle the traumatic symptoms I developed from the situation and my brain says "ope! nah, we're just gonna push the memory of that bitch boy right back out" so then by time a notification comes in again it's jarring and throws me into a mini (sometimes major) panic attack. I don't think they'll ever find this page, this is something I've actually kept private from most of the world but please gods, grant me some grace. Some peace from this never ending cycle. I can't keep fighting. It seems so simple: name pops up, block, move on - but it isn't anymore. It brings up so many memories, it always seems to be at the worst times, it's exhausting.. I'm tired. And I know if I continue to fight the memories and continue to ignore the problem people, one of two things is gonna happen: they'll give up, or I'll give in. Idk where this story started or if it makes any sense at all but now I'm physically tired so I'm done. Goodnight..

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scaredsofmyguitar · 2 years

Note

Whoops sorry about the double question! To make it up to you I will now think of three things to ask you >:)

I'm doing well! I'm going into my third year next week so I'm taking this week to catch up with friends and prepare myself for that. It's also my 20th birthday soon so I'm trying to think of ways to celebrate lol

God I get how tiring downloading all that content is. It's probably my least favorite part of the process. And I've started my set! It's going almost comically slowly but we get there when we get there I suppose

Writing these asks (this one in particular) makes me feel like I'm drafting a letter to a loved one at sea. I don't usually type like this ((i am actually a master of disguise)) but once I start using proper capitalization and punctuation I feel like I have to. I should've started this with My Dearest Joanna, or something

Okay this got long! Sorry about that. My two questions for you today are:

1) Are you aware of the hammerhead bat? If not, would you like to be?

and 2) What's your favorite thing about yourself?

Bonus 3rd (that you don't have to answer since this got longer than intended): Realistically, who would your Greek god parent be, and is it different than who you would want it to be?

Yours faithfully,

PSC Anon :)

third year, that’s very exciting! and the big 2-0, so much is happening for you!! when’s your bday? dude, downloading is so 🤬 especially t*rrenting, oh my god that takes forever. I’m proud of you for starting though!!

a loved one at sea LMAOOO that’s a very cute way of describing it 🥲

1) no…is it an animal of some sort or is this a meme I missed out on because I’m too old for the internet?

2) i wish you asked me this a few months back and i could’ve said my harley quinn-esque hair probably my sense of humor. I won’t be a stand-up comedian any time soon but my friends think I’m funny and so does my therapist, so that’s all that matters.

3) ofc I’m gonna answer this one, gotta stay true to my url. when I was a kid, I was convinced I’d be a daughter of Athena, Apollo would be cool too. but realistically, it’d be Nemesis (my friend actually told me this) or Hypnos. what about you, who would yours be? 👀

#asks #anon #pscentral anon #I really loved this one #sorry i take forever to answer though 💀#my adhd’s been so bad

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prettyboykatsuki · 3 years

Text

am i warm enough for you?

➳ tags ;; soulmate au, strangers to lovers, fluff and angst but mostly fluff, some-what canon compliant, bakugo katsuki is bad at feelings, lots of Feelings™, you guys are adults but the end of the fic but the fic is sfw, alcohol, drunk confessions

➳ wc ;; 5.6k..

➳ plot summary ;; you see your soulmate in dreams - sometimes in bits and pieces and other times in full. bakugo is less than inclined to admit he even has a soulmate - and you learn how to cope with it, one day at a time.

bakugo learns that this soulmate shit is no joke. that has to be why he keeps falling for you so helplessly.

➳ a/n ;; i wasn’t even gonna comeback this early but it felt so wrong not to post on my bfs birthday so alas </3 for anyone who cares to know this is @elysianseraph but with my new url. nice to see u all <3

this was originally posted on 4/20 but im reposting cause it didn’t show up in the tags dskjds

It’s hazy.

A cloud of smoke settles over your body, permeating your lung. It smells like sugar, like burning, like smoke and a little like leather. You can feel your toes curl and your hands moving but your body is separate from you in a way you can’t describe. It’s a pleasant kind of warmth that spreads, creeping up from behind your neck till it’s soft and cradling your skull. It’s soft like the touch of a mother, like wool over your ears.

It’s a pleasant feeling, that’s all. Almost cozy but there’s a fading sense of distress that chills in your lungs as you encompass it. Your hands are too small to reach forward, and truthfully the sensation is so powerful that you’re afraid to reach out. You’re 6 years old, so all you know is how it makes you feel. You can’t remember many details, but you feel pleasant. Something about it is soft, but there’s a sharp edge right at the end that has your lungs gasping for air.

It’s a flash of colors. Red. Orange. Pale Yellow. Grey. Black. Forest Green. Red. Red. Orange. Red.

And then it fades into a feeling again. A blurry feeling. You feel conflict, then concern, then inadequacy in heavy waves almost like it’s drowning you. It’s the first time you’ve experienced such a pain, so your wailing and wiping tears away with chubby fingers and saying a name you don’t know and can’t remember.

Ka. You know the sound, Ka. But you don’t know of anything more. It repeats rhythmically in your mind like a knock on the door, rapping with urgency - but it doesn’t do anything to jog your memory. Someone is trying to be let in but you don’t know how to answer them, and you’re still crying. The distress, the inadequacy shakes you and all you feel is frustration in short simple bursts.

Your first encounter with your soulmate is written this way in your memory. A sense of urgency laced with frustration - but they’re not towards you. It’s him, his feelings - you can feel them even deeper then he can. They pierce you in a way that makes it hard to breathe, no matter how you try to escape them it’s an overwhelming feeling of helplessness. The only way to escape the feelings of a dream is either to control them, or to face them and swim through the fog.

Soulmates have an urgency to them, in general. His is different, you can tell as much. Your first soulmate dream leaves the heaviest impression and each one thereafter is like pieces of a puzzle.

Sometimes you simply share random dreams, like a split screen in a video game - the two of you witness different parts of the same dreamverse. Other times, and honestly - most times, you’re experiencing their emotions or feelings. You experience their core memories, their life, in flashes and bits and pieces.

It’s not enough to know them or who they are, it’s like know everything about them except the things that matter

Sometimes you meet too. Just barely.

MEETING 1:

The room is white. When you blink, colors flash in order - red, pale yellow, orange, forest green and you know. You blink a few more times, stretching your hands out in front of yourself. Curling your hands into fist then into stretched palms, you lean forward and stretch. You wriggle your toes - notice you're wearing shoes. Clothes from your closet. Strange.

You take a look around the room but there isn't much to see. There’s a wall in front of you with a glass divider and a mirrored empty room. The room across from yours has spiky decor littered against the walls. An orange dresser, plastic grenades and play guns. You know who it is without a second warning - and a foggy part in the back of your head tells you that it’s him, again but with more force. You don’t see anything in your room, but you figure he might. All of it is confusing to you.

Before you can blink, there’s a loud thud coming from the other side of the glass. It’s a silhouette, the outline of a face - but nothing clear. Dream logic dictates you can’t know a face you’ve never seen, yet somehow you know his outline. Spiky, he’s spiky everywhere.

“Hello?,” you call out, overly tentative. The figure pauses, seems to take in whatever they must be seeing. You’re not sure what response you’re expecting, really. There’s no expectations at all.

“...Who the fuck are you?,” says a pitchy, male voice. He sounds like he’s your same age, a highschool boy. His throat is rough, yet not overly deep. It’s almost scratchy.

“Uhm,”

You’re not sure how to reply. You can see him through the glass, but not really. Still, you take note of his shadows like they’re going to tell you anything more. You shove your hands in your pockets, messing around with something inside.

“Uh.. your soulmate, I think,” you reply.

Scratching the back of your neck as an awkward silence settles, you take a few minutes to try and figure what more to say.

“We met when we were kids once too,” you explain awkwardly. He must know, has too - this soulmate thing is a two way thing, but his silence is deafening. You just want to feel this space. Is it always this awkward?

“Red. Orange. Pale Yellow. Forest Green,” you repeat, like a mantra. You hear him take in a sharp breath, and freeze. For some reason, you’d like to avoid upsetting him. He doesn’t seem like he’s taking to the information too well.

“I don’t have time for this damn bullshit… whatever quirk you’ve got to mimic this - cut it the fuck out,”

Hostile.

You pause, not sure how to feel. Half of you is offended, the other half is confused - had you done something to upset him? You can feel how he feels - but you don’t understand it. You sit with your mouth agape, like a fish out of water. Unsure of how to proceed, you scoff a little.

“Woah.. this isn’t a quirk thing. We’re.. soulmates? That’s already a thing,”

More silence. You’ve.. he doesn’t seem upset, but you can tell he’s not all that keen to the idea. It’s a bare minimum improvement that you find yourself valuing, without your consent. He breathes again, throat even more hoarse than before. His voice is angry but it doesn’t fit his responses, his feelings - so you don’t pay attention to his madness. Something is off.

“... I’m not supposed to have a soulmate. No fucking way I have a soulmate,” he grits. You step back, stumbling. You didn’t have any expectations.. but this wasn’t what you had been expecting at all. You feel uneasy, sick. It must be a shared feeling if the way he leans against a wall counts for anything.

A beat of silence passes before you open your mouth to speak.

“... I have no idea what I’m supposed to say to that,” you admit. He scoffs.

“Nothing you damn extra. Leave me the fuck alone,”

You don’t reply, too stunned. This was your soulmate? This.. asshole? Not that you were a peach entirely either, but this was supposedly the person that the universe had decided for you?

You shake your head. Maybe you’re just being rash? He could be a nice guy behind all the chaos. You try your best to hold onto that, that this was literally someone chosen for you before you gave up all hope. You sigh, cracking your neck.

“You can say whatever you want but.. we’re here, you know? It’s more productive to just go with it.. isn’t it?,”

“Go fuck yourself,”

“After meeting you, I’m not exactly over the fucking moon about it either. It is what is,”

“You’re not my fucking.. soulmate or whatever the fuck. Leave me alone,”

Your heart both aches with anger and sadness. You don’t know what to do. What does this shit-head know about you, anyway? You know he’s been through some shit, same as you - what makes him so entitled? You swallow the lump in your throat. It hurts. It pierces. Stupid soulmate bonds.

“Yeah? Alright. Fuck you too,”

You see him pace around for a longer before he disappears in a cloud of smoke. You didn’t even catch his name, and you’re not sure you wanted too. It must be morning, but at least you're away from him. It feels lonely, but it must just be you.

Your eyes flutter open but your heart is heavy with regret. You don’t know who it belongs to, but you’ve got class in an hour and not enough time to think about it. If he doesn’t want to meet you that’s fine.

It’s fine. Not like you wanted to meet your soulmate anyway.

You don’t have another meeting with your soulmate for months. Lately your dreams have little if anything to do with him or where he is, how he’s been. You have some of those split screen ones, where you know he’s there but neither of you acknowledge each other, even in spirit, like how you did before. When you wake up feeling angsty, you don’t know how to distinguish the feeling but you don’t try.

You wonder idly if he can feel your apathy, if he cares enough too. Maybe he also mistakes it for his own? It seems likely.

It’s a weekday where you’re getting ready for remedial classes at your school. First year advanced courses were no joke, and you find yourself regretting your choice to participate in them.

Still you get dressed anyway, put your uniform on and brush your teeth - wash your face with your eyes half open and look presentable. No one's home in the morning, the house is empty of any life but you. Food becomes a last minute priority, so you make an egg sandwich with cheese and eat it on the way to the train station.

You stare down at your feet as you step outside, music drowning out the noise of your surroundings aptly. The walk to the station is long and the ride is longer, but the streets are packed edge to edge. Musutafu is busy this time of year - the U.A. Sports Festival is taking place today and everything seems to reflect that. You barely manage to squeeze past all the strangers on the subway - clearly on their way to see it.

When you get to school, you're greeted by a mostly empty classroom with a teacher. These classes were straightforward as always, do the work you need to correct, have it approved and leave. It repeats until your finished with all the assignments and you get to be done. You give a respectful nod to your teacher before grabbing your work from your bag.

It goes on and on - occasionally, you hear an excited gasp and quiet chatter from classmates. It’s about the festival, the happenings - but you’re too caught up in completing your work that day and trying to get the fuck out of their as soon as possible.

Shit like that didn’t matter to you, anyways. It’s just a festival.

You leave around the same time the festival seems to have ended, the streets flooded with people - you miss the first station and wander towards an electronics store a block away from your highschool.

It’s the winners on TV. A guy with split hair - Shouto Todoroki, Endeavors son. A guy with a bird head, and a blonde with red eyes - muzzled to the pole.

When you see them, your heart stops. You can feel anger, an unfamiliar rage and humiliation building in your chest. It feels the word has stopped as you watch from afar, through screens. Your soulmate seems upset about something, but you wouldn’t know what.

And that blonde on TV, you wonder if you know him from somewhere.

MEETING 2:

Red.Orange. Pale Yellow. Grey. Black. Forest Green. Red. Red.

You feel him before you even know what’s happening - and it catches you completely off-guard. You haven’t had a proper soulmate dream in two years. Smoke clouds your lungs, the taste of sugar burning your tongue as you cough yourself into awareness. This time, you’re not in a room but it’s a campground. In the middle of the space is a bonfire, burning warmly. This one feels more vivid, more real.

But you know it’s not, your body feel unusually light and your hands can’t hold anything for too long. You know it’s a dream, but you sit in the chair anyway. It feels like you're floating. You feel oddly warm. Dread builds in the pit of your stomach. Even though it’s been so long since you’ve spoken to your soulmate - you can’t forget the terrible first encounter. It sticks to the roof of your mouth - a bitter memory that fills you with unexplainable, irrational resentment.

But it’s not like you hadn’t been seeing him, to an extent. You’ve seen all his memories in bits and pieces - all of them tragic and painful. This time, you see people but they come in the form of small scraps. Spiky Red. Electricity. Tape. Pink with Horns. Music. Green. So much green and red - like Christmas, you’ve called it. You’ve seen disappearances, fear, anguish - so much anguish.

In the weeks after All Might’s fall, you were in so much pain - you couldn’t stop crying for days. It’s been enough time to know what feelings were yours and which were his - and these ones felt so much like him. It went on for nearly a year - you’d almost got accustomed to it. If tears showed up to blot the ink of your lecture notes, you didn’t think twice about it. You tried to keep yourself calm, steady - in hopes you could lend your soothing to him. Even if he hated your guts, you could barely believe so much sadness could exist in one person. You didn’t know what happened but whatever it was - it must’ve been terrible. At the very least, you felt sympathy.

Sympathy was enough to get by for a long time. A neutral, level-headed sympathy that helped soothe some of your own hurt.

All that said, you were hardly expecting to see him again - especially not this soon. You don’t remember the last time you thought about him in anything other than passing - actively. It’s one thing to know what's happening - you’ve felt him passively everyday for damn near two years.

But it’s another thing to see him in front of you, force yourself to acknowledge him as your soulmate even if he insists on not doing the same.

You squirm in your chair, noticing that you’re wearing PJ’s instead of clothes. Just a hoodie and sweats, none of which fit you quite right. You pull your sleeves over your hands, fiddling with the stray strand of thread loose.

“What the fuck is this shit?,”

Your stomach drops. Unsure of what to say, you opt to say nothing at all. Just let him be, sit quietly in your dreams and mind your business. Maybe he’ll wake up soon and it’ll all be over.

You can’t see him from the corner of your vision but you can hear him shuffle. The way he touches things, noticing how they make noise but don’t feel quite right in his hands. How it feels real but doesn’t, how it is real and isn’t. Surely, he’s noticed you by now. The lingering silence makes you squirm.

“...It’s you,”

You flinch, lifting your head up slightly to meet his gaze. His expression is unreadable, but it’s different from before. In a fleeting moment, something occurs to you.

You can see him. What he looks like. Blonde with red eyes, and a sharp chin and thin waist. You know it must mean you’ve seen him before - perhaps you’d even seen each other, but for your life you can’t remember where you’ve seen his face. It’s right there, on the edge of your mind, but you’re stumped.

“Hello?,”

“Oh,” your reply comes short, strained. Your eyes flutter as you press your lips into a flat line. “Uh, hi,”

The blonde sits in the chair, slumping down. His eyes go towards the flickering flames without another word and you decide it’s best not to engage. It stays like that for a while, a beat of silence - not awkward but not comfortable, passing by without another thought. It all feels real, present - not like normal dreams. This must be the special kind of soulmate thing you find yourself feeling resentful towards.

His eyes are heavy. Relief is overwhelming him, with an iron grip and he’s worried you can feel it. If you can, you don’t say a word.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he admits.

The words sound tender passing through his mouth, unmistakably so - but you don’t get your hopes up. Instead, you give him a placating laugh, leaning forward towards the fire and mirroring him.

“I didn’t think so either,”

When it falls silent, it feels comfortable. It’s not like either of you have anything to say to each other right now, with no manual on how this was supposed to go. If he even wanted to go there.

“I can.. see you,” you start. He squints.

“You couldn’t before?,”

This takes you by surprise. You shake your head.

“No..Could you? See me, I mean?,”

Bakugo feels heat rise to his skin. Oh. Huh.

“Yeah,” he replies, a sharp inhale leaving his lungs “I can see you,”

There’s something tense in the air. It’s a strange sensation - to know the deepest and most intimate parts of someone without even knowing their name proper, or where they went to school, or what they normally eat for breakfast. All that connects you are these mutual feelings, shared grief that holds you two to the title of soulmates. This odd bond.

“..d’ya still think I’m a quirk wielding villain?,” you laugh, or try too - you’re doing your best to cut the tension. He can feel your hurt all the way from your sit, so deep in his gut - it’s been haunting him for years. How many nights of sleep he’s lost knowing there are soft and helpless tears coming from these suppressed feelings. He doesn’t know how to say sorry, so he sighs and rubs the back of his neck. He’s changed a lot in two years - but not enough to be good at this.

“No, I don’t,”

“Oh,”

He smiles, just a little. It’s gentle, casts shadow on his face from the light of the fire. It’s warm, everything feels warm and better and invigorating. When you look at him and his uneasy expression - you know he feels it too.

“By the way, uhm - what’s your name? Ka.. something? Right?,”

His eyes shoot up in surprise. He nods a little.

“Katsuki Bakugo,” he replies, expectantly. You seem surprised that he wants to know yours.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” comes your reply.

“Nice to meet you,” says him, Bakugo - your soulmate.

“Nice to meet you too,”

Getting to know Bakugo is unusually easy. You get the feeling it wouldn’t be, in the case that you were anything but soulmates - but Bakugo has never known being this intimate with someone other than you. Despite himself, how much he hates himself - you never seem too. Even though you feel and see all the ugliest parts of him - have since he was small enough to still be innocent, you always treat him the same.

Your conversations are short, and shallow. Regardless, he’s not used to talking so much about himself. But you’re always curious, so much so Bakugo doesn’t have the heart to see your countless questions go unanswered.

You keep a little notebook of all of your encounters. You remember them by heart but write them down too, just in case you miss something. You ask about his friends - Spiky Red and Soft Green, referring to them that way even after you’ve known their names. You ask about his work - the life of a dangerous hero, and if he ever gets nervous flying through the air.

Admittedly, he’s mean to you. He teases you so frequently, he’s lost count of all the times you’ve huffed and puffed at his sarcastic remarks. Still, you never turn away from him. You stand with your foot down and your arms crossed over your chest - insistent on making him feel flustered too. And it works, somehow - because you know all too much about Bakugou and always gets him right where he’s most conscious about. You don’t have to tease him about his feelings since you know them like the palms of your hand.

But these shallow conversations always mean a little more to him that he knows how to verbalize, and half the time he doesn’t need to do that at all. You’ve learned the masterful of working around him quietly, making all the parts of that feel too big to love - something small and fragile. Somehow, you’ve made being with him, even as friends - feel like less of an impossible feat but a dream.

Katsuki Bakugo has been in love with you since he was 6 years old. There must be some feelings we cannot share with our soulmates, because he has no idea if you feel it or not. He just knows he does, somewhere deep in the cavern of his heart, he loves you.

You never cross the barrier of romance with him, though. A paralyzing fear seems to settle in your bones when you breach too close to love and intimacy - and Bakugo understands those feelings, even if he doesn’t know exactly why they’re there. It’s not something you’ve decided to tell him yet, but he feels it in the same way he feels your loneliness. You may be kind but you’re more guarded than he is, and not fearless but reckless.

But he still finds himself aching to love and be loved by you, no matter how much he hates it. The yearning still manages to swallow him, even late into the night.

MEETING 3:

It’s been a while since your last meeting with Bakugo but not long. You were 21 now, but your dream visits were frequent. When you weren't speaking or seeing him through dreams - you were watching him on TV. You’d been yet to meet with him in real life but to you, that was okay. Seeing him like this had been more than enough.

Today was different. Normally, that bonfire was always a back-drop to these little encounters but it was a field today - a filed with rolling hills and hundreds of flowers and tall grass that made you feel itchy. The sun was permanently stuck right before it set but it was so warm everywhere. When you get there, there’s a blanket on the top of one of the hills. You sit on it cautiously and watch the wind pass. Everything is tinged orange, and red - you know he’s there with you before he appears.

When he does, he seems different. You glance over at him as he stumbles towards you in a stupor, and when he does finally sit - you get a whiff of alcohol coming from his neck and mouth. It’s strong enough to make a little dizzy. Blinking owlishly, he sits crisscross besides you, staring a little at the surroundings.

“..the fuck?,” he slurs. You can’t help but break out into a laugh. He nearly falls over, body swaying so you bring his head down to your shoulder wordlessly, a furious heat running all over your skin. Even though you can’t feel him, the gesture makes you feel something in your belly.

“Why’re you so drunk?,”

“Birthday,” he mumbles. Your eyes widen in surprise. Bakugo is seemingly unfazed, eyes drooping with tiredness. He’s completely inebriated.

You feel yourself grow tender. You’d have to wake up and remember the days date. Despite all the times you’ve met, you had no clue about his birthday or how he celebrated. You feel your heart ache at the idea you’ve spent the latter half of it together, in your own way.

“Happy Birthday, Bakugo.”

“Bakugo this, Bakugo that,” he growls, a little incoherent “We’re supposed to be fucking soulmates and you still call me by that.. damn name.”

He hiccups a little as you sit there stunned. You blink.

“.. You think of us as soulmates?,”

“Are you some kind of moron?,”

You scowl, flicking his forehead with your thumb and forefinger. He makes a noise of indignance.

“Well, how would I know? When we first met, you didn’t seem enthused about it,”

Bakugo sighs tiredly.

“I was 15 and an asshole - clearly I don’t fuckin’ feel that anymore,”

You seem surprised again.

“..You don’t?,”

Instead of swearing at you, he closes his eyes and gets closer to you. The liquor runs through his system like liquid courage and he nods a little.

“Not at all,”

“What do you..”

“What do you think I mean?,” he barks a laugh. You feel your pulse under your skin, drumming against your chest like a hammer. You can’t even breathe.

You’ve had feelings for Bakugo from the second proper meeting you’d had with him. It was clear as a day that he was your soulmate for good reason, that inexplicable draw that kept your heart from ever belonging to anyone else. You tried to - tried to go on dates and see other opportunities through but he was always so one of a kind.

Yet, you’d given up all hope that it would mean anything to harbor these feelings, convinced that Bakugo simply wasn’t interested in you In doing any of this. You didn’t want to force him into something he didn’t want - so you kept your distance with hope that he’d still be in your life. It was enough, or you’d wanted it to be.

It’d be a lie to say that you hadn’t started thinking about it more and more as the days pass. What it would be like to see him, touch him and love him and be with him for real - these passive daydreams gone vivid. If he could see your dreams, he must know about them. But you didn’t know how to approach it - how to approach love at all.

That’s the thing with soulmates. You’re told that you’ll just have the answers, destiny will do the hard work but that’s far from true. Because even now, with Bakugo leaning on your shoulder with this confession lingering in the air - you don’t know what to do.

“Stop being so nervous,” he mumbles. You stumble a little over yourself.

“Sorry,”

He chuckles.

“You really need me to say it, huh?,” he sighs. He picks himself. If he’s drunk and reckless, then fuck it - he’s gonna take it all the way. He drops his head onto your lap with a tired sigh.

“I think you’re my soulmate, you fuckin’ idiot,” he admits.

And it’s hard to say, because feelings don’t come easy for Bakugo Katsuki - but it’s the least he can do. All Bakugo Katsuki has ever known is to be lonely. It’s a loneliness that he’d forced on himself. Bottling up all the anger and sadness and swallowing it. It’s long since sunk it’s claws into him. That overwhelming, all consuming ugly feeling that lingers underneath that superiority complex.

That no one would ever, could ever love the ugliness that lingers in him. That no one who knew him for what he truly is, could care for him. Deku was the first of many disbeliefs and not much had changed.

Except for when it did. Except for when he met you - in a dream, and you were real and beautiful even at 15. That the universe hadn’t been playing some sick joke on him when he kept seeing you in his dreams, so soothing to his teenage loneliness. You were real and that was so fucking scary.

But you loved him anyway. Looked out for him when he was at his lowest - the soothing beat of your heart in the days after All Mights end . When he cried himself into sleep and dreamed of you. God, how he dreamed of you. Not especially romantic dreams, but dreams of how you made breakfast. How you watched cartoons on Sunday and read manga in your classes instead of the assigned work. How you fell asleep on the train station and always ate icecream after big tests. How you were especially mundane and how he got to be apart of that everyday routine.

After all, you see dreams of each other, but Bakugo has no clue what your dreams of him look like. His have always looked like you though.

When he was worthless and empty and unable to give you anything meaningful, to apologize or put his pride away - you had loved him anyway. Felt for him with clumsy hands and held on, not letting go. Even when he was begging for you to leave him alone, in fear of this all being nothing more than a cruel dream - you held on tightly to him. With your silly notebook questions and dumb names.

Bakugo Katsuki has never known what it means to love someone who isn’t you. Even if you found someone else and there was someone better than you for him, he would grit his teeth and bear it. He wonders if he’ll ever believe he deserves you. He wants to believe you’re his soulmate - to believe you wont ever leave. To believe that he did something right enough that the universe could give him someone like you.

And he wishes he could say all this, but he can’t - he just closes his eyes and hopes you can feel it.

“You’re so mean,”

“Isn’t that why you like me?,” he grins.

And you can feel his sincerity. He should feels yours too.

“I love you, actually,”

He gasps, a sharp breath that stabs his lungs. He feels sober from the confession.

His voice is gravelly when he speaks.

“Yeah, shit - me too,”

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest. The address is correct, it has to be with the way this place looks. Only a hero could live here, with the floors that lead up to skies. He lives on 3rd floor, so you swallow your fear. You give yourself a thumbs up in the glass window pane of the building before entering through the doors.

When you get there, a box sits. You press the button next to his place, bouncing on the balls of your feet until you answer.

“Hello?,”

His voice feels different in real life. You cough.

“Uh, hi,” you greet awkwardly “I’m here,”

“Oh,” he says. You hear something buzz and then him again. “Come on up,”

And you do. The elevator ride feels like it stretches mild, classic piano echoing against the empty walls. You feel yourself feel sick but you’re not sure it’s from the movement. All you can do is fidget and wait.

When the doors open, you peak your head out into the hallway. He’s the first one on the left, just as promised. You can see a welcome mat - forest green, and something in you knows that it’s the right one.

You step up and knock, three times precisely. Your heart is all the way in your ears and everything in you is filled with unease and excitement.

When the door swings open, the world stops. You gape like a fish out of water in disbelief. He’s tall and big like he promised he’d be, but you’re unprepared. His chin is scruffy, eyes full of sleep. Strong chest and arms that seem to crowd your vision, you don’t know what do.

His expression is full to the brim with feelings you’ve never seen. He steps aside with his head ducked down.

“Come in,”

“Ah.. right,”

You take your shoes off and place them in the slippers meant for you - they fit you just right, and it can’t be a coincidence. Your heart swells up a little as you take your coat off, hanging it on the rack. You can feel his eyes as they linger on your silhouette.

“So -,”

Before you can get a word out, you feel strong arms wrapped around your waist. His scruff brushes against the skin of your neck as he holds you tightly too him. The warmth of his breath lingers on your neck - and he hiccups, a sob stored in his rib cages let out with a howl. The tears blur your vision too. You can feel his drip onto your shoulder as you snivel into his neck. Your legs feel weak, but he holds you up at the door - the only thing keeping you standing.

You cling around him tightly, your nails digging into the meat of his shoulders. It’s him, your soulmate, Katsuki Bakugo. He’s real and holding you - and he smells like leather and sugar and a fireplace. He’s warm and strong and overwhelming and your crying into his shoulder with so much feeling you don’t know what to do. You hit him weakly, unsure of what do with yourself and he laughs.

“Damn you, shitty woman - makin’ me fucking cry,” but his voice is strained. It’s like something connected, how you feel each other so intimately in that moment. Not only because you’re soulmates, but because you love each other so deeply. Your heart feels heavy.

When you pull away, you manage to give him a warbly smile.

Your hands cradle his face - so handsome and wonderful. You lean forward, emboldened, and peck him. He melts into your touch like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life. It makes you grin.

Maybe you don’t realize that he had.

He’d been waiting for you all this time.

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x you #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha imagines #bakugou imagine #bakugou imagines #PLEASE SHOW UP IM BEGGING

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imherongraystairstrash · 3 years

Text

Puzzles

A/N: Idk if this is good, but I wanted to write it so bad, so I did it because I can:

Ship: Sophideon + Family fluff

Title: Puzzles

...

Sophie woke to the warmth of Gideon’s body and the crackling of the fire in the hearth. She could also hear the children, speaking in hushed tones and giggles. Cracking open an eye, she saw that they were currently sitting side-by-side by the coffee table, their backs facing her. Her left arm was resting on Gideon’s chest, and it rose and fell with his steady breathing.

She realized that their legs were tangled together under the thick blanket that she could only assume their children had placed over them. She closed her eyes and took a blissful stretch before resting her temple on her husband’s shoulder. He was still asleep, emitting soft snores that she felt in her belly.

They had been patrolling all night, and had barely gotten any sleep before their children woke them up again, ready to begin the day. Sophie and Gideon lasted until midday before they must have fallen asleep. The fact that they’d managed to stay awake that long surprised Sophie.

She wiggled her toes a little bit and adjusted herself, so that she could stretch the leg that was thrown over Gideon’s hips. His hand was warm on the small of her back, and she didn’t want to accidentally shift in such a way that would cause it to slip off her. Therefore, each movement was minuscule and delicate.

Gideon’s breath stirred the smallest tendrils of her hair. She looked up at him, brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead. She loved him very much. So much so, she often surprised herself, as she had never thought she could ever love someone again, after what had happened to her all those years ago. She kissed his jawline and put her ear to his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat against her cheek.

It was times such as these that she felt as if the world stopped at her fingertips; like no matter what happened, she would be fine, as long as she were here, with Gideon by her side and their children near.

She heard Gideon grunt softly, as he always did before he woke up, before slowly opening his eyes. He blinked a little, his dazed eyes slowly roaming the room, and closed them once more. He turned to where she was, resting the tip of his nose against her forehead.

“Good morning,” he muttered, his voice an octave deeper than usual and thick with sleep.

“Evening is more like it,” she replied, reaching up to stroke his impossibly soft hair.

She felt Gideon’s muscles shift as he stretched them, the hand he had on her waist tensing briefly as he did so.

Finally, Gideon let out a breath through his nose and said, “that was the greatest sleep I’ve ever had in my entire life.”

Sophie chuckled softly. “I would have thought the best sleep of your life would have been on our wedding night.”

Gideon opened his eyes and smiled, “we didn’t do much sleeping that night, though, did we?”

Sophie nudged him with her elbow. “Why is it that you’re only like this around me? You act diplomatically and mature to everybody, and yet you say the most scandalous things when it is just us.”

Gideon pressed a soft and lasting kiss on her lips. He then brought his lips close to her ear and muttered, “I’m not trying to woo everybody else,” before kissing the spot where her jawline began.

Sophie’s eyes shuttered closed, Gideon’s warm breath sending shivers down her spine, but she turned her face away from him and nodded in the direction of their children. “We should spare them the sight of their parents kissing.”

Gideon turned to where they were huddled around the puzzle. Sophie resisted the urge to turn his face towards her and kiss him regardless.

He looks back at her soon enough, his sea green eyes bright in the soft light the fire emitted.

“They’re not paying attention.” He said, brushing a strand of her hair away from her face with his knuckle. “They have their backs to us.”

“They could turn around at any second and begin shrieking, like two of them did last time.” Sophie said.

It was no mystery to anybody who the two that had done said shrieking were.

Gideon presses his lips together at the memory of that before raising his eyebrows and smirking.

“What’s that smirk all about?” Sophie asked.

Before Sophie could so much as to guess what it could be about, Gideon turned on his side and lifted the thick blanket so that it shielded them from the children.

“How is this?” He asked, kissing her nose.

Sophie huffed out a laugh. “It’s better, I suppose. At least this way, our eardrums will remain intact.”

“Hallelujah.” Gideon said, flashing her a dazzling smile, that made her insides melt. She put both of her hands on either side of his face and lowered his lips towards her own. They kissed softly, unrushed and lavishingly so.

Gideon was so warm. His body seemed to emit heat when he slept, which meant that right now, his skin was hot enough that it felt as though Sophie were standing right in front of a furnace. It ended up working in their favor, because whenever Thomas gets too cold at night, they plant him next to Gideon and he’s able to fall asleep. They’re absolutely adorable when they sleep together, if Sophie does say so herself.

Sophie giggled against his lips, causing them to break apart.

“What?” Gideon asked, his smile soft as he kissed the corners of her lips.

“I just thought about something silly.” She said, spreading her hands on his chest and roaming upward, intertwining them at the nape of his neck.

“Would you care to elaborate?”

Sophie shook her head giggling.

“Come now,” he said, playfully, “I’m dying of curiosity.”

“Alright. I was thinking about the time you slipped off the roof while we were patrolling in London.”

Gideon laughed through his nose, burying his nose in a particularly sensitive spot of her neck. “I’m never living that down, aren’t I?”

Sophie shrugged her left shoulder and kissed Gideon’s bottom lip when he lifted his head.

“Not a chance.”

His eyes fluttered shut as he kissed her shamelessly, his hands sending shivers through her as they travelled up and down the sensitive skin of her waist and hips.

“We should stop,” Gideon said, breaking apart. “Before they realize we’re awake.”

“Yes, I suppose we should.” Sophie said.

They kissed once, twice and then thrice (for good measure) before reemerging from the blanket.

Once they’d gotten over their daze, they arranged themselves in each other's arms, fitting like pieces of a puzzle, and gazed towards their children. They were quiet as they built a puzzle Sophie had left out for them while she and Gideon rested on the couch for a while. They hadn’t expected to fall asleep, but thankfully, the children were still entertained by the puzzle. Barbara had a blanket over her shoulders and had placed little Thomas in her crossed legs, periodically hugging him and adjusting the blanket, so that he didn’t get cold.

Thomas, on the other hand, took every opportunity Barbara was looking away to try to crawl out from the blankets and watch the puzzle-making action.

Eugenia was humming to herself, picking up random pieces and fitting them together. Every time she’d manage to get them to go together, she’d get up and do a little twirl, before sitting down once more and starting the whole process all over again.

Thomas was the first to realize they’d woken up. He gave them a toothy grin and crawled out of Barbara’s arms. Using the table to slowly get to his feet, he padded over to Eugenia.

When he got close enough, however, Sophie reached over Gideon’s chest and scooped him up. She tucked him into her arms and kissed his little cheeks.

“You’ve been caught by the love monster.” She said tickling and attacking him with kisses. Thomas giggled and tried to squirm away from her, but she held on tighter.

Part of her wants to hold Thomas forever. It felt like just yesterday he’d been born, four months and two weeks premature. He was still so small and light in her arms and got sick far too easily, but she thanked the Angel everyday for his life. Her miracle child. Who seemed very keen on getting away.

She stopped peppering him with kisses enough to hold him away so that she could see his face.

“You don’t love the Love Monster?”

He met her stare before putting his hands on her cheeks and kissing her forehead. Sophie

raised her eyebrows at him and when he giggled again, she tucked him in her arms.

“No,” she heard a soft voice say.

She pulled back. “What?”

“I love Mama, not the Love Monster.”

Gideon chuckled and ruffled his hair.

Sophie gave Thomas a final kiss on the forehead and let him go to his sisters.

They watched their children put puzzle pieces together, Eugenia aggressively so, going so far as to slam her fist upon two tricky pieces.

“Mama! Papa! Do you like it?” Eugenia said, gesturing towards the unfinished puzzle.

They both craned their necks to see.

“Oh. Erm…”

“We love it!” Sophie said.

“It’s lovely.” Gideon added.

When the kids turned around again, Sophie covered her mouth.

“There’s not a single puzzle piece that’s connected to its corresponding partner, is there?” Gideon asked.

“No, I’m afraid that in the hours we’ve been asleep, they haven’t managed to piece any together correctly.” Sophie said.

Gideon pressed his lips together and shrugged. “Well…”

“They’ll get more intelligent with age.” Sophie said.

“Yes, yes. I should think so.”

“I should hope so.”

They looked at each other and smiled, and then laughed, perfectly content with the life they had made for themselves.

...

Tagging: @tsccreatorsnet @atla-lok143 @rinadragomir @youngreckless @autumnangel20 @julemmaes @cupcakesandkittens @no-scones-allowed @ninacarstairss @stxr-thxif @writeforjordelia @itsdaughterofthemoon @jordeliasupremacy @cordelia-cardale @will-effing-herondale @axoloteca @heronstairs2014 @ilovemanicures @ti-bae-rius @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @readersconfessions812 @nightshade3465 @livvyheronstairs @zemiraa @proudtobealuthor @neurogliadudette

If you want to be on my tag list, or if you changed your url recently and your not in the tag list anymore, let me know! Also, if you want to be removed, send me a dm! I won’t be offended in the slightest :) Oh, and if you asked to be on the tag list and you’re not on it, please tell me (I’m very absentminded lol).

#sophideon #sophie lightwood #sophie collins #gideon lightwood #thomas lightwood #barbara lightwood #eugenia lightwood #tlh #tsc #tlh fanfiction #tid #tid fanfic #lightwood #ana fics

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thejudgingtrash · 4 years

Note

Annabeth is a good person,but not a nice or pleasant one,IMO.

YES.

That’s it. That’s the post. Pack it up everybody, we just cracked the case and cleared up one of the most compelling fights in the PJO fandom since forever. Good job everybody, clap it out and there’s the door! Don’t forget ordering the drinks at Starbucks, Mitch! They’re on me!

Okay, but on a more serious note: YES. YES EXACTLY.

And before some of you roll your eyes or grab your pitchforks – put your biases aside and hear me out for once. I like Annabeth. She’s my in my top three characters only second to Percy himself. I love Percabeth. It’s my favorite ship in the entire series and to be frank, the only ship that I care about PJO wise. Hell, I spend my time creating my own headcanons or writing my own fanfics with Percabeth being the star in them.

But that is not to say that I’m unable to see how certain things have developed over the years or where they stand now in regard to Annabeth. I’m not here to ignore things that have been said and/or done due to or in the name of Annabeth and I’m not here to vilify anyone that doesn’t like her. And I’m here to admit that I’m guilty of some of the things that may be addressed in this meta essay that you will read in just a second. However, I try my best to assure you, that I’m for once able to recognize my own bias.

Warning: a monster essay lies right upon you.

This should count as a paper of its own.

Back to the statement on top: I would go out even further to reframe your claim, anon:

Annabeth Chase is a good character but not a nice or pleasant person.

Annabeth is a wonderful character but she isn’t a nice one. Or at least not nice to everyone. She is (construction wise if I dare say) the best character out of the series. She has her positive traits (she’s caring, she’s emotional, she’s encouraged and volunteers, she fights for what she believes in, she forgives (even if doing so begrudgingly)) but she also has her negative traits (she’s stubborn, she’s brash, changing her mind takes forever, she is prejudiced, she baits others). That balances things out. She is branded as the intelligent kid but does irrational things (like I’ve just said a) she’s a kid and b) she’s not a robot). She should probably know better, but we all make mistakes and hopefully grow and learn from them. The clouds in the sky do blur and cover our visions sometimes.

Annabeth had clashes with other characters or was about to have fights due to her stubbornness or jealousy (Rachel, Reyna, etc.) and has of course her problems with the mortal world and her family but she also found new friends, some things cleared up throughout the narration and she was/is quite popular in Camp Half-Blood.

The thing is: she doesn’t have to be nice or pleasant (as a character). Or at least not all the time. Her character is humanized. That is what or who she is. Human. She does stand out as a character, not just because she’s the (future) love interest. She feels like someone you could meet in real life and either adore from the top to the bottom or declare as your biggest enemy. And that’s totally okay if you lean either way – liking or disliking her. Or even feeling indifferent about her. Also great!

To say that she has been the best character that Riordan has crafted is easy to say, because she has been sculpted after Riordan’s wife. He had a model he could rub some of real-life events or traits on. That’s not the problem. The problem truly doesn’t lie on Riordan’s side for the most part for once.

The problem is inherently on the fandom’s side. What the fandom does, how it acts and how it treats Annabeth as a character is the problem. The problems vary but it’s mostly the mischaracterization of Annabeth, starting fights and fan/ship wars, internalized misogyny (in some cases) and how some of the Annabeth stans lash out (ha, got firsthand experience in that field among many of my friends and mutuals!). There is a reason why many people are wary of people that have Annabeth or Percabeth related URLs.

The fact that we see Annabeth mostly through Percy’s lens and (until the Heroes of Olympus saga hits) we never really see her in chill everyday situations is essentially Riordan leaving the back door of the house open, ready for all of you asshats to rob his mansion in Boston. Because a frame on a character means that we don’t get to see the character in its entirety (unlike we do with Percy in PJO for the most part). That means a bunch of stuff is left open for interpretation which is the reason why Annabeth gets so many polarized headcanon and opinions tossed around. I think that is one of the true appeals of Annabeth. You can add on stuff and it necessarily doesn’t have to contradict itself.

We have people calling her abusive due to a (n admittedly stupid and unnecessary) judo flip and we have people that act like she’s never done anything wrong. People sorta use this excuse to form and shape Annabeth however they want and distort her characterization.

People in the fandom act like Annabeth is some weird prized possession. We perceive Annabeth mostly through the eyes of others (Percy, Apollo, etc.) and when we had some sort of insight in her ways (MOA, HOH) it felt… weird? Somewhat? Like Riordan left two bullet points of her characterization and told the ghostwriter: aight, fuck it up, gringo, see you on Tuesday and greet Fred the next time you see him for me.

There have been many posts lately (by Tharini, Simi, Sawasawako, Jewishpercy and Annie I believe?) that HOO Percabeth felt weird. That they felt weirdly constructed, that there was no conflict, no growth. It felt stagnating, like we’re turning back. We had five books prior where we had Annabeth and Percy slowly shifting from disliking to liking and crushing each other. True development. And when we finally got the cake it felt… dissatisfying. Like the cheap box stuff and not the delicious exquisite taste that we were promised.

I said it previously in my Percabeth ship roast, but let me repeat myself: many Percabeth related things are straight up fanon. Some of it is very old fanon so that’s been unable to distinguish unless you’ve read the books recently and subtract nearly 99,9% of things you see on Tumblr (and occasionally the other shitty parts of the fandom like Reddit, IG, Twitter. Although they mostly steal and recycle tumblr stuff oh well. But back to the topic).

The way people treat Annabeth is so strange. She’s either an innocent fluffy smush baby that’s never harmed a fly and all that she wants for Christmas is being Percy’s lapdog or she’s the devil incarnate, broke into your house, killed your parents Batman style, kicked your puppy and didn’t flush the toilet on the way out. I think this is what mostly makes people hate her or the ship Percabeth. And both extremes are wrong and right at the same time? She is multifaceted so both stereotypes are true and untrue and sorta cancel each other out in the same way.

The true reason why people dislike Annabeth is because the stans are doing the most. (The haters as well, don’t get me wrong, but oh boy. Piss of a stan and you’ll know what I mean). That isn’t inherently new. Are you guys old enough to remember the ship wars that have happened cross platform? Perachel vs. Percabeth? Oh boy, oh boy. I saw some kids on tumblr a few months ago trying to infiltrate both tags and start shit (and also fail). The fact that Rachel still gets used as the bitchy (ex) girlfriend in fanfics? It’s 2020 guys. I know this apocalyptic year is far from perfect and over but I think we can let this trope die, right? Right? I thought we’ve established that Rachel is a pretty chill charcter by now… right?

If you posted your stuff on FFN back in 2010-2013 and it wasn’t the typical cutesy Percabeth story (Goode High, the gods read TLT, punk/prep Percabeth, college AU, etc.) people would’ve come for your fucking throat. Not because the story or the narration was shit. But because the pairing wasn’t Annabeth and Percy (in the sense that Annabeth had to be paired with Percy. I mean Percy gets shipped with everyone and their mother but for Annabeth it was strictly Percy. As annoying as this whole Connabeth thing is – the people behind it actually had a point. She never had a different love interest unless it’s a Percy centered story and he goes off dating Athena, Artemis and Zoe at the same time for some odd reason. Yeah, FFN Percy ships are something). Or it wasn’t the action filled canon compliant story or it wasn’t an AU that was popular.

People were really stubborn, snobbish and wanted their stuff in the four five boxes that were the most popular ones and that’s it. People have been bullied off the site in many fandoms, so it’s not a PJO-only thing but it’s still sad that it happened. (Off-note: most of these FFN tropes are still alive and well and thriving on AO3. Don’t be so snobbish and pretend that every piece you’d find there is a holy grail. There’s a lot of trash you have to waddle through. Same with Wattpad, Tumblr or anywhere else where fanfics get posted. Also had this discussion with Annabeth stans. Sigh).

And Tumblr back then? Forget it, wasn’t much better.

That view has sorta changed (at least for people that have been in the fandom for several years or have managed to find a way to navigate through it) but some of the negative sentiment from back in the day has survived. Be it by new fans coming in or from old fans that never let their stance die. The aggression feels differently and somewhat not. (I don’t know if the anon function had been abused that much back in the day. I was an observer not a participant in the fandom).

Crack a joke at Annabeth’s expense (Kal’s famous “Annabeth is a Republican” post or Dee Dee’s and many others “Annabeth has the education of a second grader, chill with the college plans, girlie” stance) and you have people insulting you, making callout posts, unfollowing and blocking you (based on only that? Okay, honey), making aggressive counter-posts, etc. in a minute. If you respond with “It’s a joke, it’s not real” you have a 50/50 chance of either getting blown off or embarrassing them so that they apologize for once.

This isn’t just about jokes. You can make a headcanon that’s not the cozy cute convenient mainstream saga and people would react the same way. Or art piece (no, not including the whole Tannabeth Blackchase shtick done by Viria and others) or fanfics.

People project so much onto the unfinished canvas that is Annabeth Chase that any form of negative sentiment as little as someone not liking her to straight up criticism, regardless of how tiny it may be, seems like an affront. Like an invitation to a fight. Like an insult to them, their character, everything they believe in. Let me state something:

You are NOT Annabeth Chase. Annabeth Chase IS NOT you. Annabeth Chase is NOT real. Her feeling cannot be hurt. Someone criticizing, disliking, joking about her or even insulting her will not bother her. Someone making a statement about her is not an insult to YOU.

Let me repeat that:

Annabeth Chase isn’t real. Annabeth Chase isn’t you.

So think a little before you act? I get it when you’re a kid and new to fandoms or haven’t been up with fan cultures in the past and are back in the scene. But if you’re in your late teens or even older as an adult and you’re unable to understand that you aren’t what you like – you aren’t the extension of a fictional character – I feel incredibly sorry for you. Because that’s just incredibly sad. Someone disliking something you like isn’t an attack of your character. It shows you that you are you and the other person is a human just like you. That they just have different taste. Disliking something you like isn’t a crime, you know? But me feeling sorry for the way some of y’all act won’t mean that that’s even remotely okay. Especially if you’re no longer in the intended audience for PJO age wise and should know better.

This isn’t a “white stans” only thing. I’ve seen and witnessed firsthand how people of color, mainly women of color, act the same or not even worse when it comes to her character. People have projected their problems and real-life occurring events into her character (I’m sure that she isn’t the only character nor that this is the only fandom where this is happening) and in some cases like I’ve said cannot separate their own personality from the fictional world. Fights with woc happened because of Annabeth fucking Chase. So many things have happened in the fandom the past few months, mostly due to people being forced staying at home because of the quarantine but I’d say it’s 10% on quarantine and 90% on people for acting up like this.

So here’s a little story: There was the act of Riordan blowing the fandom up because of his own stupidity and being unable to apologize for his mischaracterization and lack of research (the whole Piper fiasco) back in June (?) and admits the upset fandom, people on Twitter, Tumblr and Discord legit thought that none of that mattered and that the outcry was destroying Annabeth Chase’s birthday. That’s right. People thought that Annabeth Chase’s non-existing birthday because she’s a fictional character had a higher priority than the rupture and prevalent racism in the fandom. Okay. This isn’t a great look, Annabeth stans. And this of course pissed a lot of people off. I made a post about it and someone not only berated three other people on said post but no, we had a mighty argument which had disrupted many friendships in our circle which haven’t recovered until this very day. We both had our parts in it and no one is innocent. But the cause of this still remains Annabeth Chase or how people prioritize her non-existing well-being. Anyway. I’m getting agitated just thinking about it.

Let’s go back to the characterization thing with Annabeth. Let me remind you:

Annabeth Chase is an asshole. There I’ve said it in a post ages ago (too lazy to look it up, sorry) and I’ll say it again. And that’s not me insulting her. That’s me actually loving that about her. Annabeth is one of the very few unapologetic female characters that really showed all young readers across the world that you can be a girl, a badass, smart, strong, standing up for yourself and what you believe in. You don’t have to be nice. You don’t have to hide your feelings. You don’t need a man in all cases but it’s also okay to accept help and defeat.

A large reason why I think she’s an incredibly important character in children’s literature/YA because many other novels (mostly (sadly)) have the “Oh, I’m a white skinny dark-haired girl that likes unconventional things like READING. I’m not like the other girls, that take care of themselves and pamper themselves by enjoying shopping and wearing make-up. No, I’d rather be one of the boys but a sweet cute little boy and not the jock fuck that drank vodka shots out of a filthy shoe once. Despite me calling myself hideous every man in a 10-kilometer radius falls in love with me and tells me I’m oh so sexy and by the way I’m only 16 years old” shit going on for no goddamn reason.

Yes, I do blame Twilight for this mostly in recent years, but this trope isn’t by any means knew. Pretty sure that you could even use classics as Pride and Prejudice and dissect them in the same manner (Bold statement: Lizzy Bennet is the OG Bella Swan. There. Go fight somewhere in the corner, people). The new wave of YA focuses on girls belittling themselves and only starting to believe in themselves because someone else (mostly the male love interest) tells them they’re worth it. And these books hit the mainstream because they’re incredibly bland and picture perfect white.

With Annabeth it’s different. She shows up for the job and is done with it. (Brie Larson would probably be the perfect in real life version of her. You either like or dislike her. Or you really don’t care). That is what is so refreshing about her. Her unapologetic nature. Can it be off-putting? Yes. Is it annoying? Yes! Hell, every time I read The Lightning Thief, I want to rip her goddamn head off. And it’s just so well written. Her shift from mistrusting Percy but secretly still believing in him to her opening up. Wow, Riordan did something right there.

Annabeth Chase isn’t a young character. She has existed along with PJO for 15 years. She’s on her way to the second decade. I’m pretty sure that with the success of Percy Jackson (and Harry Potter) many lives have been warped and shaped.

But when I say the problem lies mostly in the fandom, it doesn’t mean that Riordan’s completely innocent. The only problem that I have with Annabeth lies not truly with her but the fact that Riordan is only able to produce three variations of female characters:

The sweetheart (Hazel, Silena, Calypso, Hestia)

The strong feminist (Annabeth, Piper, Thalia, Reyna, Artemis)

The bitch (Drew, nearly every female goddess in the goddamn Riordanverse next to every female monster)

And these female characters only know three endings:

End up married with a mortgage, three kids, two dogs and a cat somewhere in Connecticut by the age of twelve

Get dumped into the hunt

Chill on Mount Olympus and only come down to be a nuisance and/or give a cryptic message before going back and doing a godly rave party or something

We know Annabeth as the badass strong female first (or the bitchy character we’re supposed to actually like. Choose your approach), the blueprint so to speak, so some of the other characters feel almost pale in comparison and almost not needed? Doesn’t mean that other characters can’t behave similarly, but it feels kind of redundant especially if their character arcs end in a rather anticlimactic way (Thalia, Reyna). The new additions are the much needed woc as the main story with PJO was inherently white (anyway stan black!Percy and Grover, folks). So it’s not to bash on the new characters, it’s more Riordan’s fault more than anything.

Since Riordan only knows three female character arcs it feels like he tried to copy the formula several ways with different nuances. Some more or less successful. This is where fandom actually comes in handy and helps create more distinguished and fleshed out characters in form of headcanons or fanfiction.

But even in these cases people still make it about Annabeth when it’s time for characters of colors to shine. Remember that whole spiel and discussion that broke out when people (Kal, diver-up, Caitlyn, Bee, reynaisalesbian, etc.) joked about or criticized that Annabeth thinks that she’s having it harder because she’s a blonde? In front of Hazel and Piper? If she would’ve been a real person that’s an invitation for getting decked. And then all hell broke loose because Annabeth stans couldn’t accept the fact that in the real world and/or in fictional worlds the woc/coc have it harder? That the white woman wasn’t the victim that needed the coddling? Yeah, that was mad pathetic.

I hope you people get my point?

Well fuck. I wrote so many things and have the feeling I’ve said nothing. Anyway, I hope I made sense. This is way too long.

TLDR: Chill about Annabeth please. She’s an important character but that doesn’t mean that everyone has to like her, regardless of being a character in the books or a reader/fan of PJO in real life. She isn’t nice or a sweetheart all the time. She also isn’t the monstrous asshole that some try to make out of her.

Peace out.

#Mel answers #pjo #percy jackson #Annabeth chase #percy jackson and the olympians #Percabeth #pjo Meta #Heroes of olympus #hoo #trials of apollo #toa #hazel levesque #piper mclean #reyna avila ramirez arellano #rachel elizabeth dare #pjo fandom #coc #rick riordan #riordanverse

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heauxzenji · 3 years

Note

I'm not sure if u take requests but if u do could u write a NSFW alphabet for Issei?¿ ♡

So lemme tell you something- I got this req and the first thing that came out of my mouth was BIIIIIIIIITTTTCCCCHHHHHH

And I proceeded to scream cry and yell about this for idk how long. I put so much thought into this- I literally wrote it in almost one night completely. I have SO much to say about this man. My Issei brainrot is only fueled by my stupid horny Pisces brain- WHICH HE ALSO HAS god bless him. Anyway enough about me this turned my mind into soup and it all fell out of my ears enjoy ur fucking horse cock

NSFW Alphabet- Matsukawa Issei

No thoughts head he. 😌

gn!reader focused, obviously nsfw....

𝕬 - 𝕬𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖊

Best Service Dom. Best Dom EVER. Anything you want you get, you have to only say the words. Food? Already ordered so it would be there by the time you finished. Cuddles? His arms are wide open and his body is very warm. Sit in a bubble bath and scroll through your favorite online stores? The bath is nice and warm and his credit card is at your disposal. He takes amazing care of you, and will stop at nothing to make you feel secure/safe/happy at all times..

𝕭 - 𝕭𝖔𝖉𝖞 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙

Welll…. I… we all know what it is. I’ll explain more later but in addition to that he also has the most amazing arms/abs. He’s very lean, definitely naturally so. Doesn’t need to work out but does so anyway keep toned.

𝕮 - 𝕮𝖚𝖒

Likes to cum inside you, but simply so that he can watch it ooze out of your hole. Sometimes he’ll even keep fucking you after he’s finished to see himself push it back in even after it’s out.

𝕯 - 𝕯𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞 𝕾𝖊𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖙

I hate adding this but he has a foot fetish. Not like a hardcore creepy kind of foot fetish- he just likes to suck a toe here and there. But only if they’re freshly pedicured… he’s very picky. He’ll give foot massages all the time tho if you ask him. He just never tells anyone about it because he knows his friends will clown him.

Not ur foot but close enough he would get you one of those little golden name anklets and kiss it every time he lifts your leg over his shoulder. 👀🦋

𝕰 - 𝕰𝖝𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊

Absolutely. He’s done a lot in his life, and is not short on any stories of past encounters. He is kind of a sex encyclopedia, but he’s very casual about it. If you bri bc up something you wanna try, 11/10 times he’s going to not only have done it, but be able to suggest ways for you to make it better- with several anecdotes.

𝕱 - 𝕱𝖆𝖛𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝕻𝖔𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

Doesn’t just like doggy- it is his lifeblood. It’s easier for him to control your movements while also making sure that he can bury himself all the way inside. He can have a vice grip on your hips one moment, his fists full of your hair the next- and if he starts spanking you well… that’s between you two and god.

He does like plain old missionary too, but only bc he can see himself in your tummy.

𝕲 - 𝕲𝖔𝖔𝖋𝖞

It makes him laugh sometimes when you struggle to take him all at once. He thinks it cute that you try, but it’s hilarious how big your head gets sometimes. He has to fuck you dumb and remind you that you can’t do that.

𝕳 - 𝕳𝖆𝖎𝖗

Trims, but not super short. He does wax his happy trail tho bc it makes him self-conscious.

𝕴 - 𝕴𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖈𝖞

Can actually be very romantic if he wants to. He is a Pisces, after all. He does enjoy foreplay and the sensuality of that to get you prepped, and he takes extra care to make sure you’re fully ready. He is going to be hard on you, but understands that he has to take good care of you, and he does

�� - 𝕵𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝕺𝖋𝖋

Daily. At least once. It keeps the stress away and livens his mood. He does it as soon as he wakes up, and then if he’s having a really hard day or difficulty sleeping, he can do it to ease his nerves.

𝕶 - 𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖐

Size, obvious because everyone is smaller than him Skdkfkf he’s a giant. He’s 6’2 and his cock is at least 3 feet of that.

Daddy Kink, self explanatory mostly. It’s just so fucking sweet on his ears, his baby cooing for their daddy, trying so hard to work his entire cock into their tiny hole, trying to be so good for him… he loses it every time.

Voyeurism, likes watching you touch yourself. He finds it amusing how you think you can get yourself there without his help. You both know that’s impossible, but it turns him on to see you try.

Praise, again- he loves to make you feel special. And you work so hard fitting all of him inside, he has to tell you how good of a job you’re doing, especially because he’s appreciative of you letting him impale you. He has to let you know.

Mutual Masturbation, Kinda goes with voyeurism. If you’re away from each other, you’re definitely going to have sex via FaceTime- he just wants to see you, and also wants you to see him. To him, it lets you know you’re the only one that can get him there, and that your presence alone- even if he’s not touching you, is more than enough.

Lingerie, Loves nothing more than seeing you all pretty for him. He also just really likes the feeling of lace or silk against his fingertips He can get out of control and rip your sets tho- but don’t worry, death is a very lucrative business- He will buy you several replacements.

𝕷 - 𝕷𝖔𝖈𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

LOVES car sex. If the mood strikes, he WILL pull over. But really, he’ll take it wherever he can get it.

𝕸 - 𝕸𝖔𝖙𝖎𝖛𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

He’s very eager to please. A little lazy, yes, but at his core he wants to make sure you’re feeling good.

𝕹 - 𝕹𝖔!

He has done literally everything at least once and the one thing he just can’t get into is piss. One bad experience and a 3 month uti later he’s sworn off it for good.

𝕺 - 𝕺𝖗𝖆𝖑

Not his favorite. He could honestly go with or without it personally, just because there’s so much of him. But he will happily fuck your throat if you want him to, and will go down on you for hours to make sure you’re truly prepped. For someone who’s not a big fan of it, he’s actually AMAZING with his mouth. It’s lazy but in the best way possible.

𝕻 - 𝕻𝖆𝖈𝖊

Starts off slow so you’re good to go, but will pick up the pace as you stretch out. He does enjoy a few slow deep thrusts in between drilling you into oblivion tho. He never tries to make your guts into a smoothie on purpose, it just kinda happens that way.

𝕼 - 𝕼𝖚𝖎𝖈𝖐𝖎𝖊

He will never say no to quickie. The amount of fast food bathrooms and abandoned parking lots you’ve seen is astronomical. The amount of times Makki has kicked you out of his apartment for trying something while he goes to the bathroom is even higher.

𝕽 - 𝕽𝖎𝖘𝖐

He's the classic degen. bf who reaches across the table at the same time as your dad when you go “daddy can you pass the salt?”

So yes, he’s definitely going to tease you under a table at thanksgiving dinner.

He’s really going to have you whenever he wants- even if it comes at the expense of your pride/morals sometimes.

𝕾 - 𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖆

Can go on forever if you let him. Will overstim you to hell and back before he even thinks about cumming. Doesn’t even know he’s doing it- he’s so used to fucking you brainless that he doesn’t realize it’s too much. But he is SUPER apologetic about it and will make sure to treat you extra carefully.

𝕿 - 𝕿𝖔𝖞

He actually has a few for when he’s feeling lazy. He used to run through fleshlights like they were tictacs but he’s since finally found one that he won’t break.

He got most of them for free because he worked in a sex shop during college- he was very popular.

𝖀 - 𝖀𝖓𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖗

Yes. He will 100% rile you up with touches that seem innocent enough in nature, but are a tad bit too low, or linger on for a bit too long.

Will also give you “the look” in public and pretend he doesn’t know what you’re talking about- he definitely does.

𝖁 - 𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖚𝖒𝖊

Vocal in bed, especially with praise. Will constantly tell you how good you’re doing or how good you feel. Doesn’t moan a lot, but they slip out from time to time. Instead it’s a lot of deep breaths, groans, and curses.

𝖂 - 𝖂𝖎𝖑𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖉

If mortuary school hadn’t have worked out, he and Makki were going to start their own porn company. They actually have a very solid business plan. They made a pact to sit on it for now, since Issei is working at the funeral home.

𝖃 - 𝖃-𝕽𝖆𝖞

LMFAOOOOO

Literally a foot long. Longer actually. I’m going to honestly say 13. No I won’t take it back. Perfect thickness too. Honestly it’s like… god really took his time and got it fucking right. Everything about his physique is perfect- it would only make sense his cock is that perfect to match. Color is even all around, the head is bubblegum pink. There’s also one very prominent vein on the underside, and a few tinier trails of veins on the top. The statue of David? Don’t know her. Only know the statue of Issei.

𝖄 - 𝖄𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌

High sex drive, but he can keep it subdued if he has to. Especially because he knows he’s too much for most people. He's not shy about it though. Is CONSTANTLY horny on main. Not that you mind.

𝖅 - 𝖅𝖟𝖟

Service Dom through and through. He won’t sleep until you do, and even if he’s dead tired, he won’t sleep at all if you’re staying awake. He’s going to do everything to take care of you and your needs first. When you do sleep he likes to hold your head to his chest and will press his nose down into your hair so he can fall asleep surrounded by your scent.

Taglist Starseeds (check ur privacy settings if your url is in bold): @honey-makki @crushzone @yumekosgamblingroom @boujiesav @onesingleravioli @ushijimasfarmhat @trouvelle @nekoma-hoe @right-shoe-jpg @atsumusc0ck @ukaic @nivky0-0 @animoozies @charmarsmith

#daisy’s red light district 🚨#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu hc #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #hq headcanons #hq x reader #mattsun x reader #hq smut #mattsun smut #haikyuu drabble #hq drabble #haikyuu fic #hq fic

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blueprint-han · 3 years

Text

ex.

↪ so many what if’s. who would give you those answers?

— where in you stumble into your ex at a friend’s wedding, and the subsequent conversation leads to new hope blooming in your relationship.

pairing: chan x reader

genre: ex au; angst with a fluffy ending.

⇥ warnings: themes/mentions of break up/make up, mentions of alcohol, please let me know if I miss a warning. please note that i, by no means condone any toxic relationships. this fic here with bang chan and Y/N is NOT an example of a toxic relationship or an implication of bang chan’s actions in real life. please take it as fiction.

word count: 3.3 K

type: one shot.

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not represent the activities of the real Bang Chan, nor is associated with JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

↯ note: I decided to merge your request with the prompt because it’s angst and guess who’s the queen of angst? You !! 😌 This was picked up from ex, as you can see and again your url ~vibes~ so uwu hope you enjoy it, this is my first time writing angst tho so please go easy on me. <3 Love you mom <333 ⇥ dawn.☀️

The dance hall’s fairly crowded when you take another shot of your martini, drowning in its essence as you make a desperate attempt to disconnect yourself from your vicinity. You wanna believe you’re drunk, though it’s not true in the slightest — you can still feel, hear, see everything around you clearly — the alcohol’s clearly not having its effect today. You wish, oh so dearly wish it did, because the man standing about two tables away from you really doesn’t deserve the attention you’re giving him right now.

The last thing you’d expected when you entered the hall to attend your friend’s wedding was to stumble right into the one man you’d been trying to avoid for the past two months. At that very moment, you cursed all the odds for making you face the man of your nightmares, the one who broke your heart.

Bang Chan.

Sure enough, just like when he’d dropped the news on you, all the butterflies in your stomach drop dead one by one, gloom and desolation taking over. The mere sight of him is enough to send you into a frenzy of confusion — you feel the flutter in your heart to know that he’s doing okay, but you can also feel that pit of sadness, anger and heartbreak mixed to wash over as one of the most conflicting feelings ever.

“O-oh, hi there, Y/N.” Chan had waved a hand and bowed down, but you shakily nodded your head, not bothering to give him any words of acknowledgement as you stumbled into the hall. How is it that you didn’t notice him until half the wedding was over? How could you forget that he was supposed to attend, because he was the bride’s friend alike?

Was it wrong that part of you still wished that you could be standing next to him, watching him as he introduced you to his friends, calling you “his girlfriend”?

You wondered what the look on Chan’s face would’ve been when you left his greeting hanging in the cold air like that. Was he broken on the inside too? Or did he simply not care? He’d been the one to end it, after all. He looks smart right now — adorning a luxurious black suit, his brownish hair slicked neatly to the side and parted. The delicate silver chain you’d given him on his birthday is oddly still on his neck — you promise yourself to not think about it much, because you know it’ll give you hope — and hope’s a dangerous feeling, at least for you.

When the music starts blaring through the speakers and the couple start dancing together, you sigh, straightening your posture from where you’re leaning against the shot table. Your friend has the prettiest smile plastered onto her face — it comes naturally to her, you figure, seeming as to how she’s married to the love of her life right now. They both seem lost — almost peaceful — as they stare into each other’s eyes. Soon, more and more couples join, until the whole hall is filled with everyone dancing on their heels, twirling and smiling and dancing gracefully. Everyone except you, of course.

You sigh, fixing the hem of your swan-white dress. Way to go for your mood to be ruined — all because you happened to stumble upon your ex boyfriend, and thoughts consumed you as a whole. Was it so wrong of you to wish that you could go back in time and change his decision? You’d moved on from this — you’d told yourself you’d moved on a month ago. You wiped him out of your memory — all the things that reminded you of him — but what if you’d only patched up the wound, not healed it in the slightest? What if the person who held the key to repair your broken heart was held by a person who you’d let go, and by all means, couldn’t reach out now?

So many what if’s. Who would give you those answers? He surely hadn’t, when all he did was just break it out to you over a meeting at the park that he’d fallen out of love with you.

You never understood what happened. It just started with the less frequent messages and meet ups, the excuse of always being busy, and that slowly morphed into him ignoring you for days, until one day he broke the news and ended it, on good terms. Or at least you thought so.

You sigh again, asking the bartender to lend you one bottle of the drink — which he does without question — before you walk over to the staircase that seems to lead to the terrace. Away from the risk of your eyes landing on him and your thoughts going all over the place again. If only you could walk away from the pit of emotions in your heart the same way. If only.

When you kick the almost rusted door open, the fresh blast of cold air that hits you makes you sigh in relief. You tuck several strands of hair neatly behind your ear, walking to the edge as you glance at the view. Leaning against the concrete, you let the lights coming from the night cityscape blur your vision, along with the faint, distant echoing of horns coming from the roads fill your ears. It’s a distraction, after all.

You pop open the cork of the bottle, letting the fizz bubble down before pressing your lips against the rim. One gulp, two, you then gaze up at the night sky. Rinse and repeat, until the whole bottle is almost finished. You ignore the void in your heart, filling it with the essence of alcohol and ignoring the feelings bubbling in it right now.

Chan was like a drug — so addicting and so hard to get rid of once you got into the habit of consuming it regularly. You wanted to reach out and hold onto those memories you shared with him — he was the first person where you let your heart do the talking, and all it took was a look at another person to change lanes, leave you alone in the dust of your crushed heart — only to come to the disappointing note that you’d lost those memories forever. They existed merely in a place you couldn’t reach, couldn’t see, but could only recall. It was pure torture to you, but you’d ignored it all for so long, certainly you could ignore it again.

“Need a refill?”

Your head snaps back in the direction of the voice. A familiar, one soothing voice that now brings pain to your heart, now threatens to bring back the wave of emotions you’d kept at bay.

Your eyes meet the hazel brown orbs, and not diverting from their strong, fierce gaze; you scoff, turning back around to stare off into the distance.

Chan frowns, tilting his chin as he tries to soothe the burn from your two reactions. He doesn’t back away though, because now he maybe understands what you felt like when it all fell apart, when he wrote your ending with a shaky hand.

He walks front to where you’re leaning against the concrete, silently drinking out of the glass he holds in his hand.

Should I say something? He thinks. He should, right? When you ended it, you did end on peaceful terms, even though your reaction felt like you were more affected by it. Even after three months, he still feels the warmth that flowed through him whenever he looks at you — you who clearly don’t want to speak to him. He feels crazy now, for wanting to let you go.

You hadn’t even bothered to curse at him that day — just looked at him with eyes that honestly pierced through his soul, and hurt him more than any of your words could’ve. But maybe that was what he deserved, right?

“Why did you come here?” You ask, swirling the almost empty bottle in your hand. Oddly enough, you don’t feel like walking away, feet frozen in position. You’d ended it on good terms, didn’t you? You’d promised to each other you’d be good friends.

“I noticed you were alone.” The man feels himself say.

“Didn’t you bring your girlfriend along? Isn’t she alone right now?” You counter, taking another sip of your drink. Again, the alcohol is having no effect on you. Why did your tolerance have to be so high when you needed it to be low?

“I-” He takes a deep breath, tilting his head to either side to relieve the tension in his neck. “Broke up with her. About three weeks ago.”

You only chuckle. Somehow, your feelings are strong when he’s away, but when the cause is right in front of you, somehow they fail to make an appearance.

“Did you come here so you could win me back?” You ask, straightening up as you avoid Chan’s firm gaze on you, and his face goes gloomier and gloomier with every statement you spew at him. But then again, who could blame you for being angry? You had every right to.

“No.” He shook his head, fixing his position so his shoulders are about an inch away from yours. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m alright.” You say, softening at the edges at his concerned tone. You don’t know why you’re listening to him and not going back into the hall, but your legs are still frozen in place, something in you, your heart, doesn’t let you move.

Why do you feel like it’s your first time meeting him all over again?

He’s your ex, a part of your life you’re supposed to forget. Instead, you’re here, reminiscing it with the very person who left you in the first place. The situation you’re bound in is so weird — you almost don’t know what to do — but nonetheless, you just stand there, ignoring the slight flutter in your heart — just like the first time again.

“How are you doing?” You give yourself the liberty to ask him that question — just to know how he’s doing. Just another way for you to answer your countless what if’s, another method to try and fill the void in your heart.

Chan sighs, straightening up himself before looking at you. “I missed you.”

At the simple admission, you soften around the edges some more. It was wrong, so wrong that you were giving him to permission to get into your heart again — but what if you never wanted him to leave in the first place?

Hope — the dangerous feeling — starts resonating through your chest. It’s the tiniest emotion, one you can’t quite sense, but still feel. You can feel yourself grow warm, feel his gaze burn into the side of your face as he awaits a reaction.

“I-I don’t know what to say to that.” You reply, tucking some of your hair behind your ear again, before curling it with your index finger. You don’t look into his eyes yet — you’re not so brave to do so — focusing your bored, almost sad gaze as you count all the lights flashing at you on a skyscraper. Anything to distract you from this feeling.

Chan notices your stare, and sighs again. He’s battling himself too, right now. Should I say it? He thinks.

“I-I’ll be honest and confess to you, okay?” Chan turns to face you properly, while you bite your lip, waiting for his next words. Oddly enough, you feel more nervous now than you felt that day when Chan ended it with you. It’s so weird to feel it all over again.

“I’ve missed you and… I truly regret what I did that day.” He runs his hands through his chocolate brown hair, which seems to look particularly soft today. It reminds you of when you’d casually back hug him when he was working, pecking the back of his neck as you’d comb your fingers through his hair.

“Chan, no.” You feel your voice crack, the sadness overflowing out of its cup, spreading to all your senses as you close your eyes, letting out a single tear.

“Y/N…” Chan places his hand on your shoulder. You don’t flinch.

“Y-You l-left me.” You feel your brain cloud over, having no control over yourself as the words start spilling out of your mouth, piercing Chan’s heart bit by bit. “Y-You l-left me when I thought you’d stay… And you left me alone.” You feel his thumb rub against the bare skin of your shoulder, and this time, you stare up, looking straight into his eyes.

“I loved you,” You stammer, inhaling deeply as you take note of Chan’s expression. Surprisingly, he’s crying too. The rims of his eyes are filled with tears, his whole face goes red as he tries not to violently sob. “I love you.” You correct yourself.

“But you left me. You left me when I thought all I had was you and - and, what? Three months later, you tell me you miss me? Is this because your girlfriend broke up with you? You wanna win me back?” You spew, slamming your hand against his chest as you shake in his arms.

He wordlessly pulls you into his embrace, and you don’t complain — you don’t know if it’s because of your brain being cloudy and your eyes being all itchy from crying, or if it was because you missed his hugs, but you feel yourself clutch onto the material of your shirt as you cry, cry and cry until you feel like your tears don’t remain.

“I’m so sorry…” Is all he can say, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as he tries to comfort you.

“I hate you, Chan. I hate you so much.”

Something in him shatters when he hears your words. He wordlessly mouths “Alright.” and doesn’t bother controlling his tears anymore, letting them flow down his cheeks and settle into your hair, not bothering to hold back the sounds of brokenness he makes either.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He pulls away, holding your chin to force your gaze into his eyes. “I shouldn’t have done that to you, it was so wrong of me. I regret it now, so much.” He curls his lips inwards, and watching him cry is soul-crushing. You should be hating him for leaving you, screaming, crying, but you hate yourself for reaching up to rake through his hair, sliding your hand down to his soft cheek before gently swiping your thumb against it. Wiping off his tears.

“We’ve already forgiven each other, right? It’s okay.” You take deep breaths to calm yourself down. Leaving him behind seems hard enough, but seeing him cry in front of you seems impossible. Are you still in love with him?

“I’m still sorry.” He mutters softly, gazing into your eyes as he takes hold of the hand that rests on his cheek. “I was so horrible to not know that I had you beside me all along, and instead I turned my back at you and left you. It was so wrong of me.” he breaks into tears again, and this time, before you can pull him into a hug, he grabs both your hands in his own. Holding them in between each other.

Yep, you’re still in love with him.

You look at him, absorbing all his features, and suddenly you’re thrown back to the first time he ever asked you out. It seems all too familiar — all too real. You find yourself holding your breath once again, waiting for what he has to say. He rests his forehead against your grasped hands, sighing brokenly as he speaks up.

“I won’t ask you to accept me again, Y/N.” He says as a matter of fact. He understands that the things that happened may not allow you to let him into your heart again. “I won’t ask you to date me either, because I know what I did isn’t that simple to forgive.”

Chan feels so stupid now. You were there for him all the time, yet he left you for someone else. You were beside him to help him when he felt desolated, but somehow he became a cause for your desolation. It shocks, confuses him and makes him seethe in turmoil.

“But,” he begins, holding his breath. “I still want to try. I wanna try being the person I couldn’t be when I was with you. I-I wanna change and win you back, b-but…”

“But?” You ask mindlessly, totally overwhelmed and dazed out by his honest words, the newfound emotion thrums to your chest. It’s love, for sure. But it isn’t that special kind of love, at least not yet.

“But I wanna do that only if you let me. It’s your choice, Y/N.”

Your eyes widen as you try to grasp his words, noticing how his warm hands holding onto yours still, only grow warmer and tighter.

“I r-really love you Y/N, a lot. And… well, I know you may not be able to make this decision soon. But please, just give it a thought?”

You shake your head, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you look up into his eyes again. They’re red and puffy by now, but they’re still gorgeous, they still remind you of the time you’d gently kiss over his eyelids whenever he cried like that.

You roll your eyes to the back of your head in deep thought, before tucking your bottom lip under your teeth and nodding. “Okay.”

“Okay…?” He asks, hopeful. You can almost feel his nervousness in the way his palms sweat, but you simply smile.

“We won’t date yet.” You said. “But I’ll allow you into my heart one last time. Don’t break it.”

And at your acceptance, Chan beams, feeling more tears roll down his eyes as he pulls you into a hug. This time, you don’t spare any restraint, wrapping your arms around your waist as you press your cheek against his chest. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…” Chan keeps mumbling and repeating, to which you only shush him gently, telling him it’s okay and he doesn’t have to thank him.

He still does. You only smile to yourself, and for the first time in three months, you feel somewhat at peace. There’s a long way to go — you have to adapt to this relationship, let your heart join back bit by bit and build each other’s confidence again. But you’re certain you can do it together. This story deserved a happy ending, and you were going to give it one, no matter how hard you’d have to try.

“Hey guys!” You hear someone walk through the door, immediately parting away and clearing your throats.

“Yes?” The both of you say at the same time, tensing up and then laughing at each other. If Chan’s tears were crushing, Chan’s giggles were truly healing. The way his eyes would scrunch up into the cutest crescents and his dimples would make an appearance always made you want to peck his cheeks. Now wasn’t the time though.

“Dinner’s being served, so Y/F/N told you to come downstairs.” The person at the door says, immediately running downstairs, as if to not interrupt your moment any further.

“Alright.” You laugh, taking Chan’s hands in yours as you intertwine your nimble fingers with his long, slender ones. “Let’s go shall we?” You don’t bother picking up the alcohol bottles, because you’ll be coming back here with your friends later anyways — they can be tended to later.

“Of course,” Chan pulls you along with him, running to the door — both the ones that lead to the diner and the ones that signified your new start.

Curse at me all you want, as long as you let it all out, and we can go back to how we were.

*:･ﾟ✧ find the other fics here !

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silverarmedassassin · 3 years

Text

Clandestine Meetings - One

Actor!Bucky x Reader | Word Count: 2488 | Warnings: None

A/N: Listen, I know I said this would be posted in "about an hour," but I have no self-control and it must be posted NOW.

Sorry for the delay in getting this out! I was having a bit of block. Thank you for reading and, if you feel so inclined, please let me know what you think!❤️ If you want to be tagged, please send me a message or enter your url here!

Dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

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It’s 10:30 by the time your boss stumbles into the office. Pepper Potts is usually the embodiment of poised and put together - sleek strawberry blonde hair either falling over her shoulders in beautiful waves or tied in a high ponytail; black pencil skirts and white blouses tucked neatly inside. But not today.

While the ponytail still sits high on her head, dark circles taint her usually smooth, pristine complexion. She’s fisting a to-go mug in one hand and her office mug in the other, already steaming with a fresh round of caffeine.

You hated days like these; mornings after Tony keeps her out late - either business or pleasure, you never know as you prefer not to pry into your bosses’ personal lives - were always interesting, to say the least. Pepper was never mean, and you were almost positive there wasn’t an unkind bone in her body. She was just off. And if she was off, it means you were off, resulting in your job being about one hundred times harder as you often had to play the roles of both assistant and editor.

“Good morning, Ms. Potts,” you finally greet as she sits down at her desk. She’s rummaging through her bag, growing more irritable as the seconds pass. She sighs before stopping to look up at you.

“Y/N, please. It’s been six months. Just call me Pepper.” You internally scoff at the insistence of being anything less than professional towards one of the smartest women you’ve ever encountered in your life, and she turns back to her treasure hunt. “Don’t tell me I left my laptop at home,” she whines to herself as she slumps down into her large executive chair.

You clear your throat as you shuffle forward, computer in hand. “You had me take down to IT to get your files backed up, remember?” you smile as you deposit the device on the cherry-oak desk.

Pepper returns the smile and shakes her head. “Honestly, I don’t understand how I functioned before you.” She slides the laptop across the desk and opens it. While she waits for the software to boot up, she starts her typical morning rapid-fire session. “Did I miss any calls before I came in?”

“No, it’s been pretty q-word this morning.” You vowed never to say “quiet” while in the office. It somehow always jinxed your days, resulting in everyone and their mother calling within twenty minutes.

“E-mails?”

“The chef you’ve been in contact with sent over his schedule for the next few months. It’s looking like the best time to meet is early next month if you want to get the feature done in time for the winter edition.” Pepper opens her mouth to fire another question, but you’re one step ahead of her. “I’ve already blocked out a date in your calendar and sent the invite to his team.”

A soft smile graces the woman’s face as she scribbles notes in her daybook. “And what does my schedule look like for today?”

You sort through the mental files that contain minute-to-minute information regarding your boss’s workday. “You’re pretty booked. You have that photoshop with James Barnes at noon, and after-”

“Shit,” Pepper mummers, cutting you off. Panic quickly settles into her features. “Why does Tony do this? Barnes is impossible to book for anything. I can’t miss this….”

“Uh, no, you can’t,” you practically screech as you fix your boss with a wild look. “This photoshoot has been on your schedule since before I even started. And the time you have set up with him next week doesn’t allow for a full interview, photoshoot, and get material for the short online feature.” You try not to let the panic come out in your voice, but this is precisely the kind of incident you were hired to prevent.

Pepper gently closes her laptop and sets her features in a serious look. “Listen, I think you’re doing a great job here, and you’ve grown so much within the few months you’ve been on the team.” You eye her suspiciously, wondering if this was your ‘you’re fired’ speech. If so, it was definitely coming out of left field. “Why don’t you take my place at the shoot today? If Tony hadn’t promised I’d be in attendance for this investor meeting today, I’d have you go to that instead. But,” the blonde sighs deeply before continuing, “Tony has no regard for anyone’s schedule, and this is an important meeting.”

Your stomach drops from the 44th floor you’re currently on down to ground level. You’d never been on a set before, let alone one with someone as big as James. Plus, you’d only been on a handful of mid-sized interviews. How did she expect you to do this by yourself?

“Pepper, I…”

“I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to try and tell me that you’re not ready and that you can’t possibly clear your schedule for the afternoon. But if I didn’t think you were capable of holding your own, you wouldn’t even be sitting here with ‘assistant editor’ in front of your name. You have the skillset; you just need to show that you can use it. I know you don’t want to be an assistant forever.”

You anxiously bite your lip, feelings of inadequacy and anxiousness filling your senses.

“I don’t even know this James guy…” you say, defeated.

“Well, the car doesn’t arrive for another,” she looks down at her phone, “forty-five minutes. You better get reading.”

“We really need to bring you into the twenty-first century,” Natasha, Bucky’s manager, says as the first notes of My Funny Valentine start dancing through today’s set.

Following the too-bright flash of the camera, Bucky blinks the starbursts out of his eyes and tries to set the redhead with as stern of a look as possible. “Don’t you dare diss Mr. Sinatra. He’s a classic. A legend!” He watches as a stylist runs up and begins fussing with his hair.

Natasha just rolls her eyes and goes back to scrolling through her phone. As much as she acts annoyed with him - and his insistence of having at least two dozen 40’s songs on every photoshoot playlist - he knew she wouldn’t trade him for the world. They had a long history pre-dating the entertainment industry, and she was damn good at her job. If it wasn’t for Nat, Bucky’s not sure his current agency would have even signed him.

As the stylist finishes up her poking and prodding, the photographer - who Bucky has already forgotten the name of - begins shouting out directions from behind the camera. Pose this way. Turn that way. Make it look like you want to be here. It takes everything in Bucky not to grimace - both at the consistent reconfiguring he has to do to his body and the loud rumble that echoes through his stomach. The shirtless pictures they were shooting today caused him - against his better judgment - to forgo breakfast and, with nothing but too-weak black coffee in his system, Bucky couldn’t help but feel a little agitated.

“Just a few more shots, and then we can break for lunch,” he hears the man behind the camera shout before dragging the camera back up to his face.

Bucky contorts himself into a position that shows off the abs he’s worked incredibly hard to achieve and maintain and masks his face in the perfect moody smolder these magazines love so much. Three more pops of the shutter, some grumbling and direction by the photographer, and one more position change, and he’s finally free.

As he’s looking at the pictures and throwing a robe over his bare torso and boxer-clad bottom, Bucky’s attention is pulled from the camera’s tiny screen to the back of the spacious room by Natasha’s stern, Russian-lilted voice. The accent only came out when she was agitated, so the sound alone is often used as a warning sign to those closest to her to stay away.

“How did you even get up here? Is there no security in place? I swear-”

Bucky turns to find his manager - all five-foot-three inches of her - standing defensively in front of whomever she’s cornered by the elevator.

“As I said, I’m here in place of Ms. Potts.” Bucky perks up at the second voice; is almost positive he recognizes the sweet melody despite having only encountered it once several months before. “Here, look, I have my badge.”

Sure enough, as Bucky scurries over to the duo, he sees a familiar face anxiously looking at his manager. He might be terrible with names, but Bucky Barnes rarely forgets a face.

“Natasha, why do you insist on harassing every person who sets foot within a five-foot radius of me while on the job?” Bucky jokes as he approaches the women.

He watches as your attention shifts from the annoyed redhead to him; a look of shock and maybe a hint of mortification flashes across your face.

“I wasn’t harassing. This is a closed set, and randos from the street can’t just walk on up,” Natasha rolls her eyes. “And it’s not you I’m worried about. It’s...you. But you know what I mean!”

He does. After all, protecting his privacy and work is one of Bucky’s most significant concerns. That doesn't mean he isn’t going to tease Natasha any chance he gets. He playfully scoffs and turns his attention to you. “I see you got the job. I told you everything was going to work out.”

Bucky can’t help but preen at the way you anxiously tuck a non-existent stray hair behind your ear and bite your lip. “You were right. Mr. Stark isn’t as intimidating as I thought. Although,” you playfully roll your eyes, “he is a menace. He promised Pepper’s attendance at a meeting, so now you’re stuck with an inexperienced interviewer rather than the queen of journalism.”

“Bah!” Bucky exclaims. “I’m sure you’ll do great. Plus, you’re not the one half-naked in the situation. If anyone embarrasses themselves, it’ll be me.”

Natasha chortles at the comment, mumbling something the sounds a lot like, “ever the charmer,” before walking away. At the same time, Bucky doesn’t miss the way your gaze slowly skims down his cotton-clade body before snapping back up to his face.

“Come on. We just broke for lunch, and Stark spares no expense when it comes to the spreads.”

It’s well past six-thirty in the evening when you finally make it back to your building. Despite the exhaustion flowing through your veins and the grumble in your stomach reminding you every five minutes that you haven’t eaten since lunchtime, there’s a festive air to your being, a proverbial pep to your step that could only be the result of a successful first interview experience.

Yeah, you were a nervous wreck before and during the interview, but you walked away feeling amazing about yourself - and with three pages worth of phenomenal, touching, and personal quotes from the one and only Bucky Barnes.

You try to ignore the butterflies that erupt low in your belly at the thought of the blue-eyed god of a man. Despite having no other experience interviewing someone with as large of a celebrity as he, you’ve concluded that Bucky is an angel of an interviewee. He was polite, answered all of your questions, and flirted just a little. Or, at least that’s what you would call it if you were anyone but a lowly editorial assistant who still purchased from bargain bins because that’s all you could afford. In all reality, Bucky was a very smooth talker with the confidence to back it up. It explained the incomprehensible hype surrounding the man you had no idea was such a big deal less than twelve hours prior.

The rumble of your stomach pulls you back to reality as you unlock your apartment door. You push the thoughts of Bucky to the back of your mind, settle for finishing unpacking the day for when you’re unwinding for bed. Right now, all you want to focus on is fo-

“Uh, hello!” your roommate Wanda screeches as you push open the door. The redhead is standing, arms crossed, in your entry, a look of disdain on her face. “When were you going to tell me, your best friend and roommate, who pays half the rent and utilities, mind you, that Bucky Barnes followed you on Instagram. James Bucky Barnes, Y/N!”

You freeze at the mention of the man who has taken up every inch of your mind since you left the shoot earlier that day. You deposit your keys onto the small table next to the door and try to act as nonchalant as possible. “What are you talking about, Wanda?”

Your roommate starts wagging her phone in front of your face before pulling it back so she can read off her screen. “Well, I follow these gossip blogs - just for fun, of course. I like to stay up-to-date with all the celebrity goings-on.” You fix Wanda with an unamused look as you pass by on the way to the kitchen. “And I was scrolling through, catching up on today’s gossip, and all of a sudden, I see a screenshot of your Instagram account!”

You freeze mid-reach for a saucepan and turn to look at her. “What?”

“Yea, see,” Wanda holds her phone out so you can see the screen. Low and behold, there your account is; questionably composed landscape shots of the city and poorly-lit food pics in all their glory. “It started to circulate this afternoon after someone saw he followed you! Why did he follow you?”

You slowly resume your task of reheating last night’s spaghetti as you answer her. “I...I don’t know? I met him at work this afternoon. He probably just followed me because of Stark.” You shrug despite the thrill that runs through your body.

You halfheartedly listen as Wanda blabs on about the crush she’s apparently had for years despite never having once mentioned it to you, too focused on running through the day’s events to care much about how she’s seen every single one of his films at least a dozen times.

Maybe he had been flirting with you? His manager did mention he flirts with anything with a heartbeat, so it was most likely just part of his personality. Or at least the role he played in public. You weren’t naive enough to think that who Bucky presented himself as to the media, fans, and others not in his inner circle was the real Bucky. After all, he was likely just trying to win you over so you’d write something good about him.

Still, you can’t help the giddy smile that creeps across your face as, when you finally lie down for the night, you open the Instagram app to find Bucky’s name and verified status among the several notifications awaiting you.

@redbarn1995 @juenenfeu

#bucky x reader #actor!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #actor au #bucky barnes au #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic

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