#“That's what I thought now sit down we're having blue waffles for breakfast”

[kittenscookie]

And this is why I like it so much. Because Telemachus seems to want to prove himself to SUICIDAL levels and Percy who's been there done that would basically snap his fingers in front of his face and be like "Babe, honey, look at me. You don't need to put yourself in horrible life-threatening scenarios to prove your worth, doing your best in the day to day is enough"

Crossover Crackship

Percy Jackson x Epic!Telemachus

Specifically because of the DRAMA it would create

Poseidon & Odysseus: ABSOLUTELY NOT!

Percy & Telemachus: But father I love him 🥺!

I don't give a shit if it's stupid it's my crackship and I like it

[nightshade-minho]

-Blue Book- (8)

Warnings: hoo boi.

Word Count: 2k 

"Y/n?" Chan gently shook your shoulder. "Come on baby, you've got to wake up."

You peeled your eyes open, cheeks flushing as you noticed how close Chan's face was to yours.

"Good, you're awake. Listen...I've got to go to the airport and pick up my parents, and your mom was blowing up your phone just a few minutes ago." The corner of his lips twitched in amusement as your phone started vibrating. "Well, there she goes again. Sounds important, you should answer." He straightened up, handing you your phone and heading to the kitchen. "I’ll be making breakfast."

You smiled as he left, expression dropping as you answered your phone.

"Yes, mom...?"

"Oh! My baby! Thank god you answered, finally...I'm so sorry about last night, darling..."

"It's oka-"

"No it wasn't! I'm a terrible mother. I'm sorry, it's just, he was so hot, and I was super intoxicated. We're going to go on a second date! Whose place did you stay at, by the way? A boy answered the phone earlier." She asked, her tone dripping with suggestiveness. You could almost see her wiggling her eyebrows.

"Ew, gross, mom! He's just a friend." You said as Chan came back into the room with a plate of waffles, raising an eyebrow.

"Sure, darling, whatever you say. Although I'm certainly not opposed to you getting laid, it was long overdue anyw-"

"Haha okay, bye mom!" You cut the call, shuddering as Chan giggled, passing you the plate.

"Just a friend? Do friends kiss each other the way we did last night?"

"Shut up." You smiled, digging into your waffles.

***

You watched Chan's car leave as he left for the airport, standing there until he became a speck in the distance before turning around to enter your house.

You found your mom sitting on the couch...but this time, she wasn't passed out with drool running down her chin and clutching a bottle of beer- she was sitting with an odd sense of poise, wearing a pretty summer dress and a huge smile.

"Y/n! You're home! How was your night?" She grinned, winking. You narrowed your eyes, her cheerfulness catching you off guard. Your gaze drifted to the table, on which rested some plates and two empty wine glasses.

"Nowhere near as good as yours." You said pointedly, tearing your gaze away from the table as you moved to go upstairs.

Flopping on your bed, you scrolled through your text messages. Nothing new from Chan. You sighed, reminding yourself that there was probably no Wi-Fi at the airport.

Suddenly your phone dinged with a new text message. Oh. A response to your tutor ad. You'd put it up a long while ago and had honestly forgotten all about it. Well, you definitely needed the extra money. You replied affirmatively to the text and tossed your phone next to you on the mattress.

***

It had been a while since Chan had had dinner with the boys. The conversation was light, and he had missed his friends..however he found himself missing you more, despite having seen you that morning.

"Minho, I don't know how you get away with making out with her in the hallway. I can barely hold hands with my girlfriend without some teacher giving us detention-"

Chan looked up as Felix shoved Changbin's arm, making him stop mid-sentence. Changbin raised an eyebrow, realization dawning on him.

"Ah sorry, Chan. I didn't mean to rub it in."

"Seriously, though." Jisung rolled his eyes. "It's been weeks, and you aren't any closer to getting that book. I hate to say it bro, but I don't think Miyoung would want to be with you even if Minho breaks up with her."

Hyunjin nodded, glancing up from his phone. "I've noticed her and Y/n are really buddying it up. It's girl code not to date your friend's ex."

"Of course, you're the expert on girl code, Hyunjin."

A small squabble broke out and Chan wanted to slither onto the floor and just...stay there. He glared at his plate, deciding he’d had enough.

"Stop it!”

Jisung and Hyunjin stopped talking, staring at Chan in surprise.

"I will get that book soon. I love Miyoung, and I'll make sure she's mine, through any means possible. I don’t care about your opinions, so you guys can just shut the fuck up." He hated lying through his teeth, but there was no way he was going to tell these judgmental burdens he called his friends that he loved you- at least not yet.

Chan relished the silence as he continued eating, trying his best to ignore Minho's burning, inquisitive gaze directed right at him.

***

You sat in bed, clutching your blue book as you tapped your pencil, your head filled with thoughts of Chan. In all your 17 years of life, you'd never known what love felt like...but now you did. And as a result, you were completely consumed with the burning need to tell Chan exactly how you felt.

When you'd moved to this town, you really hadn't expected for it to one day feel like home. But it did, and you were sure it was all because of Chan. His presence somehow made you feel safe, and protected, and you hadn't felt this secure since your dad left you.

You wanted- no, you needed to know if Chan felt the same way about you. You pushed the self-doubt deep inside as you imagined telling him.

You turned red just thinking about it. Fuck it, you were too shy. You'd be a blubbering mess two words in.

Sighing, you looked back down at your book...when an idea struck in your head.

Uncapping your pen with your teeth, you placed the nib on the paper and inhaled, letting all your feelings flow out onto the page. It felt kind of cliché, writing a love letter like this, but you always did have a tendency to over-romanticize everything.

Besides; it was more of a love poem. Gah, was that worse? You hoped to god he wouldn't find it cheesy, especially since you'd bared your heart to him with these words. As you finished, your eyes ran over the last sentence. 

"If you feel the same, please meet me behind the tree near the lake, where we had our first conversation, and where I started falling for you."

You shut the book and placed it on your bedside table, flicking the lamp off and rolling over. You nuzzled your pillow, your mind drifting to last night, the memory of Chan's lips and body pressed against yours still fresh.

***

It was a bit early to be having an ice cream date, but neither of you could honestly care less. As soon as you'd woken up in the morning, Chan had texted you to meet him at the ice cream parlour near his house.

"I can't believe you like salted caramel. Its such an old person flavor." He laughed, staring at you fondly.

"Like mint chocolate is any better." You rolled your eyes.

"Fine fine, let's just accept we have different tastes in ice cream."

You smiled. "That I can get on board with."

There was a comfortable silence as the two of you ate. You glanced up from time to time, your heart pounding as you psyched yourself up. Come on, this was the moment. You can do it, Y/n.

"Hey, Chan...?"

"Mm?" He asked, pausing with the spoon halfway to his mouth.

"Uh...are you free tonight?"

"Tonight? Oh, I'm playing soccer with the guys. You could come watch, though."

"Oh no, I have a tutoring appointment in the evening." You muttered.

Chan quirked his eyebrow. "Why'd you ask in the first place, then?"

"Uh, I just wanted to know. I mean-" You groaned, letting out an exasperated sigh. Bending down, you grabbed your bag from the floor and put it on your lap.

Confused, Chan watched as you pulled out your book, the book, swallowing. Slowly, you slid it over to him.

"I...what's this?" Chan asked as nonchalantly as he could, running a hand through his hair.

"It's...kind of my diary. I just-" you inhaled. "Look, I've bookmarked a page. When you go home- and please don't open it before then- read what I've written." You gulped, as Chan didn't make any move to take the book.

"Look, Y/n, I-"

"Please, just take it. Don't ask any questions." You looked down, trying to hide your flushed cheeks, trying to calm the beating of your heart.

Chan sighed, fingers reaching out and slowly curling over the book as he took it into his hands, tucking it into his pocket as you let yourself smile.

"Thank you."

***

Huh. This was definitely not what you'd been expecting. The house was a lot smaller than you'd imagined it to be, especially knowing how much you were charging.

You breathed in and came forward, knocking on the door and waiting. A few minutes later, a young girl opened it.

"Hi! Are you Dea?"

"How do you know that?" She asks, scrunching her nose, her hand gripping the handle tightly. "Mom says not to talk to strangers."

You shook your head quickly before she could close the door. "Sweetheart, I'm your tutor."

"Prove it."

You sighed, straightening and looking past her. "Is your mom here?"

The girl paused for a second before shaking her head, moving to slam the door closed, when a woman showed up from behind the corner.

"Oh good, it's the tutor!" The woman placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder, smiling at you. "Come in, Y/n. I've actually got someplace to be, but I'll be back in two hours. I assume you'll be done by then?"

"Yeah, most probably." You smiled and let her take you in, leading you to Dea's bedroom. The girl herself followed cautiously, and you found yourself a little amused.

"Right, this is her desk." The mom ran a hand through her hair, gesturing to the table. She glanced at her watch and swore, shooting you an apologetic glance.

"In sorry Y/n, I've got to get going soon- please focus on her maths, it's really bad. We'll discuss your fees and other logistics when I get back, okay?" She smiled at you, waving at her daughter before hurrying out the door.

You watched her leave, frowning slowly as she walked away. Something was niggling away at the back of your mind. Why did she look so familiar?

Turning back to the girl, you sighed inwardly at her knitted eyebrows and scowl. She was avoiding your stare, fiddling with her pencil and muttering under her breath.

This was going to be tough.

***

Minho sighed, watching Miyoung wave from the bleachers. Fuck, it was like she was physically incapable of giving him some fucking space.

He glanced over to Chan, clad in his uniform as he chugged water from the bottle Felix handed to him. When was this asshole going to get that fucking book? He couldn't stand having to date Miyoung any longer.

As the girl blew him an exaggerated kiss, Minho decided he had had enough. Needing to be alone, he turned around and went to the locker room. Just a moment to breathe, that was all he was asking for.

As Minho entered the cool, air-conditioned locker room, he let out a sigh of relief. He went over to sit one of the benches, planning to rest in solitude for just a few minutes... until he noticed Chan's clothing lying on one.

His shirt and jeans were carelessly strewn on the seat, and Minho narrowed his eyes as a flash of blue caught his eye, almost immediately.

Peeking out from the pocket was a very familiar looking little blue book.

He came closer, slowly pulling the book out and inspecting it. Could it be? The bastard had your book all along? Opening it, he flipped through the pages with a smirk slowly growing on his face. Yup, it was yours.

It was like the gods were smiling down on him, finally.

[mrsbarnes107]

Secret of the Widow

-part seven-

Summary: Post Endgame time period. The team is healing, trying to navigate this new normal they’ve found themselves in when Bucky and Sam bring home a stray with an attitude and a secret. Will the broken team take her in? Or is it too much to bare?

Warnings: language, *eventual* violence and smut, death, fluff, angst

Pairings: Bucky x OC

Disclaimer: this is posted to Wattpad as well and it WILL HAVE PLOT. I’m a Bucky hoe so there will be smut and romancy stuff but this is a series, so plot plot plot and slow burn.

Something was blinding me and I was wrapped in a cocoon of warmth.

I cracked my eyes open, sunlight streaming in and effectively burning my retinas. A big yawn escaped as cat stretched across my bed, popping my joints deliciously.

Of course that's when I noticed that I was in my bed. The bed I was very much NOT IN last night.

I stumbled to the bathroom, throwing on some spandex shorts along the way. The mirror revealed a very distraught woman. Jeez I'm a mess. Puffy eyes, wild hair, pillow creases on my cheek. With a sigh I throw my hair into a bun and wash my face and teeth, staring down my reflection.

Where on earth did this ginormous hoodie come from? This thing is like a dress, I cant even see my shorts and I KNOW it's not mine.

The fact that i cried hard enough to pass out and NOT feel someone carry me to my room AND put a hoodie on me is very concerning. I need to reign in these emotions, no matter how hard it is being back in the tower.

I slip some fuzzy socks on and check the time. 6 am. Of course.

Making my way quietly down the hall I snuggle more into the cozy hoodie. It smells like musk, man, and crisp night air. This is mine now.

No one seems to be awake, so I decide to treat the team to an extravagant breakfast of waffles, bacon, and eggs. But first a very very large cup of coffee.

As the aroma of Heavens most beautiful creation fills the room I have FRIDAY shuffle my music, broadcasting it in the kitchen loud enough to dance around to but not wake the others.

Food is almost done when I'm in the middle of singing into the knife I grabbed to cut up some fruit.

"SHOT THROUGH THE HEART AND  YOURE TO BLAME" chop chop chop "YOU GIVE LOOOVE  A BAD NAME"

I toss the knife behind me and spin around to flip the bacon, catching it with a little twirl. "I play my part and you play your games oooh you give loveee"  I begin setting the food on serving trays "a bad name."

As I'm dancing around the kitchen, enjoying the peace of cooking in an empty space, flicking the knife in the air and twirling it in my hand, I hear the team start to get up and around.

"She was a fast machine, she kept her motor clean" what a great way to start the day, bomb music and a dance party. "She was the best damn woman that I ever seen. She had sig-" as the knifes handle lands deftly in my palm, someone interrupts my concert.

"I feel like I should be serenading you right now Doll. Lookin like that, cookin food like this, definitely the best damn woman I've ever seen."

With a squeak I had launched the knife towards the voice, Bucky plucking it out of the air, right in-front of his amused blue eyes. He was leaning against the doorway, legs crossed and sleep rumpled hair. Apparently he's been there a while and apparently he was blessed with beauty no matter his state of dress.

"Barnes what the hell! Warn a girl, jeez." I put my hand over my heart to calm it while pouring a cup of coffee, walking it over to the super soldier. "And damn straight I'm the best. Glad you've noticed."

He follows me into the kitchen, leaning against the counter sipping his drink. "You're pretty skilled with this." I guess that was his warning as he catapulted the knife towards my stomach. Well I deserved that, I thought as I caught it while skipping a few songs.

"You'll come to learn I'm skilled in a few things." I say with a wink. "Although, I don't think anyone works a blade like you do Sarge."

I look up to find him staring at me with a weird expression before he shook his head and smirked. "Well Doll, I could always give you some pointers if you ever wanna train with me."

I'm jamming to Back in Black when the rest of the team walks in. Throwing Bucky a smile over my shoulder and a quick "your on, meet after breakfast?" He gives a nod and sits at the island beside the others.

This could be fun. Or a disaster. Definitely not a good idea. But a fun one for sure.

I'm still bouncing around to AC/DC when Sam scowls at me. Well he looks like a grumpy kitten in the mornings apparently.

"You are definitely Tony's creation." He grumbled, followed by a thank you, as they started scarfing down breakfast.

•••

"Hey Ali, why are you wearing Buckys hoodie?" Peter mumbled around a giant bite of waffle, food flying everywhere.

I paused for a second then continued pouring myself some more coffee, giving Barnes a quick glance that he avoided, deeply interested in his bacon apparently.

"Oh I forgot I was still wearing it, sorry Sarge." I said with a chuckle. "Couldn't sleep last night so I watched a movie and Barnes ended up joining me. I got cold and he was ever the century old gentleman."

That earned a scoff from the old man.

"We're still leaving at lunch right? I'm craving a taco from downtown." Wanda pipped up from across the island.

"Yeah that sounds great, I'm gonna get a quick workout in beforehand."

Peter glanced up from his waffle mountain "Do you think you could stop by the lab and help me out with something? When you're done shopping?"

I see Bucky staring at me in my peripheral, eyeing the smile I force onto my lips. That lab just can't get rid of me huh Tony. "Yeah of course, I'll let you know when I'm headed there."

With that I head back to my room and throw on some shoes and a tank top, leaving Buckys hoodie on my bed. I did say it was mine now anyways.

The gym is a large, two story area with many connected rooms. I went into the sparing room, with mats on the floors and a wall of punching bags. After stretching and putting on some music, I work on the power behind my punches, trying to land harder blows for someone larger than me.

Getting lost in the feel of fist biting leather I let myself drift into thought. I still don't know how to incorporate myself into the team. They were all very kind and grateful this morning, talking about their plans and letting me know they will be interrogating the two bombers from yesterday.

Am I being too open? I'm usually serious and more reserved unless I'm comfortable with someone like Nicky or Tony. It's just that I want them to see more than my serious, throat slashing side. The team is already gloomy enough, but I don't want them too think I'm not taking this seriously. Finding that line is hard when I don't know how receptive three of them even are to me at the moment.

Wanda, Buck, and Peter all seem fine, but the others are more hesitant.

I finish a set with a spinning roundhouse, sending the bag against the wall, just as one of my favorite songs comes on shuffle.

Being on your own for essentially twenty-two years gives you very little option for conversation. Besides the times I stayed with Tony, I was alone. As a kid my teachers were just that and Nicky was there when he could be, but all I really had was myself.

So music is my release. All I ever really had to let loose and feel lighter when on the road or cleaning up after a mission.

So I sing along while launching daggers into a sparring dummy from across the room.

[lovedmoviesb]

Unexpected.

It was the only word that could come to her mind right now, racing through her head on a loop. Sheriff Grimes, Rick, was unexpected. She hadn't expected to operate on him seven months ago, hadn't expected to be so drawn to him while he laid in a coma, hadn't expected him to come looking for her months later.

And she definitely did not expect to be here, naked, panting and still underneath him.

"You ok?" his question rumbled against her bare slick skin, his lips sending goosebumps racing across her body.

She opened her mouth, but could only manage to sigh contently. Rick took the invitation, kissing her again. Michonne reached for him, halfway torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. His scar, still jagged and raised, pressed against the palm of her hand. She succumbed to the pleasure of the feeling of his mouth on hers, parting her lips for him.

His hands made their way to her waist, gripping at her, wandering lower. She pressed herself wantonly into his calloused palms, her legs falling open almost on their own accord. He was inside of her again before either of them knew what was happening. She dug her nails into his shoulders, arching her back and groaning against his mouth.

"God, Michonne," that accent again, deep and enticing.

"How did this happen?" she asked the question, even as her body thrilled at the feel of him.

"I don't know," he sounded just as confused as she was. He paused in his movement, sitting up just slightly, his arms braced on either side of her head. "Do you want to stop?"

"No," she didn't consider the option at all, instead rolling her hips back into his. His moan, low and rough was her reward.

"Thank you," he lowered his face to hers again and she was ready this time, catching his lips with her own. On and on it went, neither quite able to release their hold on the other, until Michonne was sure her body would simply give out, unable to take anymore. Then he would kiss her again, or touch her, or look at her, those blue eyes almost glowing in the low light. Suddenly her exhaustion would evaporate and they'd be right back where they began, wrapped tightly around each other.

It was hours before they finished. Peeling herself away from her new lover, Michonne retreated to the bathroom. Under the florescent light, she studied herself in the mirror, wondering what she was supposed to do now. She was out of practice with this, years removed from the intimacy of having a partner. She'd felt comfortable with her self-imposed celibacy. Now, she was not sure what to do.

She emerged from his modest bathroom to find him standing, still naked and at his dresser.

"I should go," Michonne began, unsure. She was sore in places she'd learned to ignore, drunk off the taste of a man she barely knew.

"You don't have to," he spun around, a dark t-shirt in his hands. He looked as though the thought of her leaving had never occurred to him.

"I don't want to… intrude," it felt absurd to say it out loud. Dinner at a modest Italian restaurant had ended in a sweaty tangle of sheets. Now she couldn't quite meet his eyes.

"Michonne, I want you to stay," she liked the sound of her name on his lips immensely. Too much.

"All right," She bit her lip, heart pounding, wondering what all of this meant.

He smiled, handing her a the shirt while he pulled on a pair of briefs. "What side do you want?" he asked her, gesturing to the mattress.

"I'm good with whatever," she rarely shared a bed these days.

"Ok," he looked at the queen-sized for a moment, seemingly contemplating something important. At once, he moved to the right side, sliding the covers back for her to join him on the left. She pulled on the warm cotton shirt, breathing in his scent, then climbed in bed.

They faced one another, silently appraising. Rick reached for her, gingerly inching her closer to him until he could wrap his arms around her.

"You know," he started, choosing his words carefully, "this isn't something I do a lot. In fact, I've never done it before."

She smiled at that, his admission relieving her. "Neither do I."

"I really did mean to just buy you dinner," he continued, his lips tilted in just the hint of a grin.

"I really meant to just eat dinner," she told him. She hadn't counted on what his smiles would do to her, hadn't counted on what good company he was when he could talk back. He'd reached for her hand outside the restaurant and she'd lost the battle to stay objective. She still wasn't sure who initiated the kiss that led them here, a few blocks away in his new apartment.

"I'm not sure what this means… and maybe it sounds crazy, but…" Rick broke off. "I feel like I really know you."

Michonne felt a thrill race through her. "I mean, I did talk to you a lot, while you were—" she broke off.

"I know," he kissed her hand. "The nurses told me. Can I ask why you did it?"

She had no real answer so she settled on shrugging. "I didn't want you to be alone," she said simply.

He nodded, looking thoughtful. "My wife—ex-wife," he corrected himself. "She started sleeping with my best friend when I was there."

Michonne worried her bottom lip between her teeth. Rick noticed.

"I think everyone knew but me," he said, the hint of sadness flickering over his face.

"I'm sorry, Rick," she knew that pain intimately, knew what betrayal felt like. "My husband, he left too. Took our son." She missed Andre every day, eagerly counted down the moments until their weekends together.

"Does it get better?" he asked, his voice heavy with sleep.

"I hope so," she whispered back.

She did not remember succumbing to her exhaustion, but the next thing she knew, she was waking up, pressed face down on Rick's bare chest. His hand was laying over her backside, protectively, almost as though he had always done it. It took her a moment for the events of their night together to come rushing back. She realized with a start that her own hand was covering his scar.

"Good morning," he yawned sleepily. If Rick was uncomfortable, he showed no signs of it. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did," she found herself smiling at his familiarity.

"Good," he kissed her forehead, adjusting his grip on her. "I'm starving."

"Me too," she stretched against him.

"All right then," he sat up, his hair comically disheveled. "Let's go."

Breakfast (or brunch, rather) was just an unexpected as the night before, but no less pleasant, even outfitted in Rick's t-shirt and too-large basketball shorts. He held her hand on the short walk around the corner and slid into the booth beside her, his fingers still laced with hers.

"We should do this again," he announced ceremoniously around a mouthful of Belgian waffles.

"Ok," she agreed readily.

"Tomorrow?" he asked, just as eagerly.

"Ok," she agreed, helping herself to a bite from his plate. Smiling, he offered her the rest of his bacon.

"Tomorrow," he repeated happily, kissing her hand.