#but I've been working on it for about a month now

[artficlly]

hi !! i love ur work <3

ok i had an idea for a one shot but it’s totally fine if u don’t want to do it!

so reader and bucky break up (bucky dumps her) bc he thinks she can do better or whatevs and instead of feeling sad, reader is kind of getting off to how bad bucky is doing without her 😜😜 this is obviously inspired by my kink is karma from chappell lmao. anyways ends in fluff or smut and a lot of how much bucky missed her 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️😛😛

thank uuu !!

BITTER [one-shot]

modern marvel au vet!bartender!bucky x reader Bucky doesn't do relationships, but maybe you'll be the one to change him

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, fem reader, sexual themes, angst, hurt/comfort, major character death, ptsd, bucky barnes needs a hug, bucky barnes has issues, bar fights, alcohol, smoking, swearing, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 8.2k

A/N: heya nonnie. this isn't exactlyyy what you asked for but i hope you like it anyway. i'm technically on hiatus rn but i felt bad leaving your ask unanswered for so long. i've been working on this between classes, i'm not super happy with it but i thought i'd post it anyway, it got a bit longer than i was expecting. i have like 5 million things due at the end of the month so i might be gone for a bit so here is a treat in the meantime! much love! ! sorry for any typos - not proof read.

permanent taglist: @civilbucky @globetrotter28 (i swear there was someone else who wanted to be added, pls let me know if that was you i lost your comment)

main masterlist

The first thing Wanda had told you about Bucky Barnes was to beware. 

Proceed with caution.

You were the type to fall in love easily, it was one of the first things you had confessed to Wanda, wine-drunk only a week after moving into her dodgy shoebox of an apartment, where the previous tenant's mail still showed up—and so did their debt collector. You were new in the city, bright-eyed and overly romantic about all you encountered, including the suspicious stains on the carpet courtesy of Wanda’s old roommate, who she only referred to as ‘that nightmarish cunt’. Wanda was cool, chic yet edgy, her voice dripping a Slavic accent and always armed with a dangerous look in her eye. She worked downtown as a sous chef at one of those mid-tier restaurants that you considered fancy, but anyone even marginally higher than your pay grade wouldn’t look twice. 

Her boyfriend, Sam, worked at a bar across the road. Howling Commandos. He co-owned it with his buddy, the infamous Bucky Barnes. They had met while serving in the army, both retiring early from service. Sam was discharged after an injury that rendered him ‘useless’, and Bucky was discharged shortly after on grounds of mental health. 

And maybe that was the allure—the myth of Bucky Barnes. 

He was handsome, dark-haired, blue-eyed, the usual fairy-tale rom-com affair. He was brooding, damaged goods, and had a real chip on his shoulder since his discharge. He poured a good drink, kept the bar running smoothly, and was big enough to intimidate drunk frat boys who occasionally wandered in looking for a fight. But apparently, he didn’t do relationships. He would fuck anything that moved if it caught his fleeting attention for long enough, but that was it. 

Wanda had confessed it all to you on that dreaded wine-drunk night, hummus and carrot sticks forgotten as the TV blared Wanda’s Spotify playlist on loop. She’d had a friend, one who had moved away now, but that friend had slept with Bucky. Said it was the best lay of her life. 

So, Wanda had said, voice dipped as she gave you a drunken, sloppy grin over her Pinot Gris, the two bottles she had pinched from work now empty. If you want the night of your life, go for it, but don’t expect anything more. 

That was the rule with Bucky Barnes:

Don’t get attached. 

So, maybe foolishly, when Wanda had roused you from a hangover-induced nap the following day by asking if you wanted to join her at the Howling Commandos and continue your bender from the night before, you had taken the leap. 

–

Howling Commandos didn’t exactly roll out the welcome mat.

It had the look of a place that had seen one too many late nights and even more bad decisions. Exposed brick walls, low-hanging lights that shrouded the room in a dim orange glow, and a row of pool tables tucked in the back behind a collection of stained wood tables and chairs.  It was edgy, kind of dark and mysterious, much like the infamous bartender who now stood before you in the flesh. 

You and Wanda had descended upon the bar at half-past nine, arms linked, laughter spilling between you. You’d gelled quickly—your soft, unguarded friendliness balancing out her wicked smirks and razor-edged sarcasm.

She swung into a barstool with the ease of someone who belonged here, peeling off her winter coat and tossing it onto the counter, shaking the snow from her auburn hair. Across from her, Bucky barely spared her a glance, his mouth set in a line that could have been annoyance or indifference.

“Wanda.” His voice was low, unimpressed.

That was all he said. No hello, no warmth. Just her name, like it was something to be tolerated.

Wanda only grinned, leaning her elbows onto the bar like she had all the time in the world.

“Sam’s out back,” Bucky added, eyes flicking toward the door before sliding right past her, landing on you instead. “Still picking up strays, I see.”

You grinned before you could help yourself, slipping into the seat next to Wanda. As you shrugged off your coat, neatly sliding it into your lap, Wanda let out a mock-horrified gasp on your behalf. 

“So rude, this is my new roommate.” Wanda’s eyes slid over to you, head tilting as she gestured towards the scowling Bucky. “And this dickhead is Bucky. He’s co-owner with Sam.”

“I remember.” You replied with ease, your gaze and smile unwavering even as Bucky gave a noncommittal grunt, turning away to continue polishing the glass in his palm. 

Wanda, unbothered by his callousness, leant in. “I’m going to be honest, I need a drink ASAP. I’ve got an awful headache, and you know what I always say! Best way to beat a hangover? Drink even more.”

“Does Sam know you’re an alcoholic?” Bucky cut back, not even bothering to turn around. 

“Awwh, Buck, is that genuine care?”

“Not for you.” Bucky snipped.

Wanda made a mock pout face, fingers drumming across the bar. “But seriously, put me out of my misery here—”

“Your usual?” He cut over her.

Wanda didn’t skip a beat. 

“Pretty please,” she purred, her tone sweet and syrupy, dripping with exaggerated charm. As she settled more comfortably into the stool, her gaze flicked to you with a knowing gleam. “What do you want? On the house.”

Before you could respond, Sam’s voice rang out, thick with amused exasperation. “Baby, you can’t go offering drinks on the house to everyone—” He appeared from the back, a box of bottled spirits cradled in his arms,

“She’s my roommate—” Wanda began, but Sam cut her off, raising an eyebrow as he set the box down with a thud.

“Oh yeah? I haven’t forgotten the last one that you also insisted could have free drinks, and she turned out to be—”

“Don’t! Don’t bring up that cunt—”

You tuned out the conversation as Wanda slipped from her seat, weaving around the bar with the kind of effortless grace that came with knowing she belonged. She leaned into Sam’s space without hesitation, her laughter slipping through the low hum of the bar, threading between the murmur of voices and the scratchy tune spilling from the jukebox in the corner.

It wasn’t until Bucky slid a glass of dark liquor across the bar—precisely where Wanda had been sitting—that you finally tore your gaze away from them.

His eyes found yours, expectant, unmoving.

“It’s okay, I can pay,” you assured him, reaching for your wallet, but his unimpressed stare didn’t waver. His silence stretched, almost as if he were waiting for you to back down first.

You didn’t. “Gin and tonic.”

No acknowledgement, not even a nod. He simply turned, reaching for the bottle of gin without a word.

Wanda reappeared beside you, collapsing back into her seat with a dramatic sigh, a sound that quickly dissolved into a giggle as Sam pressed a quick kiss to her cheek on his way past. The small moment of affection made you smile, your gaze trailing after him as he made his way toward the pool tables. He moved with familiarity, exchanging greetings with the patrons, his presence met with easy grins and back pats.

“He’s cute,” you hummed, watching him settle into the space like he owned it.

“I know, right?” Wanda smirked, pulling her drink closer.

You propped an elbow on the bar, your curiosity piqued. “How’d you meet?”

She took a slow sip, savouring the taste before setting the glass down. It looked like rum and coke. Smelt like it too. “He used to come to my work all the time when they were fixing up this place. We just got to talking one day and—”

Bucky set your drink in front of you with the same quiet precision as before, cutting off Wanda’s sentence mid-thought. You turned your attention back to him, offering a bright smile that didn’t falter, even as he met it with a frown.

“I’ve never liked those,” Wanda barely spared him a glance, instead eyeing your drink with mild disdain. “Not sweet enough for me.”

“Well, I like my drinks how I like my men,” you replied, the words coming with a smirk that you directed toward Bucky, holding his gaze longer than you probably should have. “Bitter.”

—

Shivering in the back alley by the dumpsters probably wasn’t your brightest idea, but at this point, you were committed.

You and Wanda had knocked back one too many drinks—again. It was becoming a habit, one that Sam was starting to take personally, considering he was the one who had to cut Wanda off after she got a little too liberal with her chatting and nearly convinced a stranger to let her wear his coat home. You, on the other hand, had managed to slip out gracefully, settling your tab before Wanda was carted out back to be babysat and force-fed water.

Neither of them had been thrilled at the idea of you walking home alone. Buzzed, barely dressed for the weather, and just reckless enough to make poor decisions, you’d assured them you were fine. Which, technically, was true. What you had failed to mention was that you hadn’t actually made it more than a few feet out the door before deciding to truly test the limits of your dignity.

The cigarette hanging from your lips wobbled slightly as you tried—unsuccessfully—to light it with numb fingers. You swore under your breath, stuffing the useless lighter back into your pocket just as the back door of Howling Commandos swung open.

And as fate—or some cruel, all-seeing god—would have it, it wasn’t Sam or Wanda who stepped outside.

Bucky emerged, a black trash bag slung over one shoulder, his usual scowl fixed in place. His stride slowed slightly when he caught sight of you, his expression unreadable.

“Thought you went home,” he muttered. “Sam and Wanda already left. If you need a ride, I can call you a cab.”

You tilted your head, watching as he moved, efficient, mechanical. The back door groaned shut behind him, its echo swallowed by the muffled city noise beyond the alley. Dumpster lid up, bag tossed in, blue eyes flicking back to you, waiting.

“I don’t need a ride.”

His gaze swept over you, unimpressed. “Sure about that? You look outta your damn mind right now.”

You exhaled, breath clouding the frigid air as you shoved your hands deeper into your coat pockets. The wind bit through the alleyway, slithering beneath the fur-trimmed collar and creeping up your spine.

“Well, when I had this brilliant idea, I was still drunk,” you admitted, shifting your weight on unsteady legs. “Now that alcohol’s worn off and it’s cold as shit, I can’t even fuckin’ light a smoke ‘cause my hands are shaking so bad.”

You lifted your fingers to prove your point, stiff and trembling from the cold, flashing him a lazy grin. He did not look impressed.

“This a cry for help? I don’t know what it is with Wanda and picking up crazy fuckin’ roommates—”

“I wanted to get your number.” You shrugged, unbothered by the scepticism in his tone. “Didn’t want to do it in the bar, figured you’re a private kinda guy, don’t like putting your business out for the world. I can respect that.”

He blinked, once. Then, slowly, “So you thought the next best option was to wait in a back alley in the snow—?”

“Hey,” you cut him off with a laugh, shifting your weight against the wall. “I said I was drunk when I came up with it… never said it was a good plan.”

Something flickered across his expression. Dry amusement, maybe. Then, to your surprise, he huffed out a short laugh, his breath visible in the cold air curling between you.

You smirked. “C’mon, I’ve been out here for like… an hour. Least you can do is give me your number.”

He took his time looking you over, slow and assessing. Despite the heavy winter coat hanging off your shoulders, you were still grossly underdressed for the weather. The short, tight-fitting dress clung to you like a second skin, courtesy of Wanda’s slut-shaming is sooo 2016 speech. A poor choice in hindsight, considering the temperature was bordering on unbearable.

“I’ll do you one better.”

You arched a brow. “Yeah?”

His voice dipped lower, something rougher curling at the edges. “How about I lock up, and you sit your pretty little ass in my car? I’ll drive you back to mine.” A beat. “Sound good?”

Now, this was the Bucky Barnes Wanda had described—the dangerous one, the elusive ladykiller. The shift had been minuscule, yet you already found your panties were wet.

You smiled. “Well, now you’re talking my language.”

—

"We should stop seeing each other."

Bucky sat hunched on the edge of his bed, forearms braced against his knees, fingers laced tightly together as if he were holding himself back. He didn’t look at you. His jaw was set, his mouth a firm line, but that wasn’t what unsettled you—it was the tension in his shoulders, the restless bounce of his leg, the way he exhaled through his nose like he was already regretting this conversation.

That first night had been the spark, but the fire never quite burned out. It carried on in flickering embers, nights tangled in his sheets, the weight of him pressing you into the mattress, bodies moving in time with the city’s restless heartbeat. If you had to put a name to it, fuck buddies was the closest fit, though even that felt too familiar, too warm. There were no tender morning-afters, no texts outside of arranging the next meeting. You met him in the alley after closing and let him drive you back to his place. Though sometimes, you never made it that far. Sometimes, it was the backseat of his car, windows fogged, streetlights streaking across his skin as you clawed at his shoulders. Other times, it was rushed and desperate, your palms braced against crates in the storeroom, breath hitching between half-suppressed moans before either of you had the sense to lock the damn door.

But as winter thawed into spring, something shifted.

The first crack in the foundation came when Bucky, against all odds, accepted your half-hearted invite to grab a bite to eat. You’d won a cheap voucher for a hole-in-the-wall Mexican place around the corner from the bar, fully expecting him to wave you off. But he hadn’t. And somehow, the two of you had ended up crammed into a booth, sharing a pile of nachos, snickering into your drinks as you watched a group of college kids make absolute fools of themselves. You wouldn’t have called it a date—Bucky sure as hell didn’t—but something about it felt different. Easier. The way he’d nudged his plate toward you when he noticed you eyeing his last taco. The way he leaned just a little too close, voice dropping low in your ear, murmuring some dry remark that made you snort into your margarita.

You weren’t sure when the line blurred. Maybe it was when your not-date nights became just as routine as your hookups. Or maybe it was at Wanda’s birthday dinner when Bucky—without thinking, without hesitation—draped his arm across the back of your chair, fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles against the bare skin of your shoulder. You hadn’t even noticed at first, too caught up in conversation, but Wanda and Sam sure as hell had. They shared a look, one of those wordless exchanges, tight-lipped and knowing. Like they were bracing for the inevitable. Like they could already see the fallout creeping on the horizon.

And they were right.

Because after a year of effortless, reckless bliss, Bucky finally reached his limit.

You should’ve seen it coming. Should’ve known that letting Wanda rope you into planning his surprise birthday party was a mistake. That something so personal, so full of effort, would make him withdraw. It was all too much. Too close. Too intimate for someone who spent his life keeping people at arm’s length.

And just like that, the fire snuffed out.

Your grip tightened around the box in your hands, the crinkling of the wrapping paper comically loud in the quiet room. The laughter and chatter from the party outside felt like a world away, muffled through the walls of his bedroom. You had pulled him aside to give him his present in private, and now it sat between you like a hand grenade, pin already pulled, waiting for the explosion.

“Are you going to open your present? Hand-picked by yours truly, I made sure not to let Sam meddle with those prank gifts of his—” You ignored his words, shoving the brightly wrapped box towards him. He barely glanced at it before waving it off, his scowl deepening.

“Did you even hear what I said?” Bucky interrupted you, expression nowhere near impressed

“Jesus, Bucky. Are you serious?” The sigh that left you was excessive, the once bubbly and sweet aura you wrapped yourself up in so tightly melting away in an instant. 

You should have known.

He had been off all week. Distant, restless. He’d stopped waiting for you in the back alley after his shifts ended, ignored your texts, and let your calls go to voicemail. Hell, he hadn’t even invited you over to fuck in two weeks, and that was the foundation of whatever this was between you. You’d told yourself it was the late winter blues—snow had been falling thick for weeks now even with spring looming closer by the day. Maybe, you had told yourself, it was some kind of early mid-life crisis with his birthday looming.

But deep down, you’d known better. You’d felt it in the way he couldn’t meet your eyes anymore, how his touch had cooled from burning to indifferent. It was like a switch had flipped, turning lust into something close to disgust.

“I’m serious,” Bucky said, exhaling like the conversation had already exhausted him. He rubbed a hand down his face, eyes fixed somewhere past your shoulder as if looking at you would make this harder. Or maybe easier. “We should stop… whatever this is.”

The present now sat on the bed, abandoned between you. You placed it down with deliberate care, fingers smoothing over the edges as you mulled over his words. Beyond the walls, the party raged on, voices rising in drunken harmony as Sweet Caroline blared over the speakers. A chorus of shouts—touchin’ me, touchin’ you—mocked the silence stretching between you.

You knew there was no point in arguing, not when Bucky had already made up his mind, disillusioned or not. But the question still burned its way up your throat before you could stop it, raw and sharp as you met his gaze.

“Why?”

His brows furrowed. “Why?”

However he had expected you to react, this clearly wasn’t it. Maybe he thought you’d cry. Maybe he thought you’d yell. But you had never been the type for tears or begging. You just wanted the truth. The cold, ruthless reason why this wasn’t working anymore.

“Yes. Why? What’s changed?”

Bucky hesitated, something flickering across his face. Hesitation, regret, guilt, maybe all three. Then, his jaw tensed, and he forced the words out like they tasted bitter on his tongue.

“You’re… You’re just too much. You’re too much for me.”

Your head tilted slightly, observing him. He still wouldn’t meet your eye.

“Too much, huh?” You echoed, voice steady despite the way your stomach twisted. “And how exactly am I too much?”

He sighed, exasperated. “You’re just… overbearing. You always want to text or call, or stop by the bar. You’re always asking after me with Sam and Wanda. It’s all just a little too much, doll. This was supposed to be a casual thing.” His fingers flexed at his sides, his frustration palpable. “You’re just—”

“So, you’re punishing me because I care?”

“That’s not what I’m saying—”

“Then what are you saying, Bucky?” Your voice sharpened, and your patience unravelling. “That I’m clingy? That I’m suffocating you? Is it such a crime that I want to spend time with you—”

“You’re just—fuckin’ everywhere.” His voice rose, and you arched a brow, arms folding over your chest. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I swear to God. Every thought I have, everything I do—you’re there. I dream about you. And sometimes, I swear I smell that goddamn perfume of yours even when you’re not around—”

“Bucky.” You took a step forward, searching his face for something, anything. “Have you ever considered that maybe this is happening because you like me? Not because I’m some overbearing burden in your life—”

His lips pressed into a thin line, his entire body stiff.

“I don’t do relationships.”

You let out a dry, humourless laugh, shaking your head. “So, what then? You’re just gonna cut me off? I got too close, didn’t I? Too close to you—to the real you, the one you hide under all that brooding, tough-guy bullshit—so now you’re pushing me away?”

Bucky’s jaw twitched, but he said nothing.

You exhaled sharply, your patience splintering under the weight of his silence. “You know, Wanda warned me this would happen. Sam too. Hell, just about everyone out there did.” You gestured vaguely toward the door, toward the muffled chaos of the party beyond his bedroom. Laughter and music seeped through the walls. “Your friends, your colleagues. They all warned me. Guess I’m the idiot for thinking it’d be different, huh?”

His gaze flickered. A barely-there flinch. You pressed on.

“They told me you throw people away when they get too attached.” Your voice softened, but not with kindness, with something hollow, something resigned. “Or worse, when you do.”

His breath hitched, so quick and so subtle that if you hadn’t been watching him so closely, you would’ve missed it. But you saw it: the crack, the hesitation, the battle waging behind those sharp blue eyes.

For a second, it almost looked like he might break. Like he might finally say what he was really thinking.

But then, just as quickly as it appeared, the moment was gone. His expression hardened, every ounce of warmth draining from his face.

“I don’t need you.”

And just like that, the last ember of hope inside you burned out.

You swallowed against the ache in your throat, but your voice came steady, unwavering. “Is that the truth?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. “Or are you just telling yourself that to feel better?”

His eyes darkened, and this time, there was no hesitation.

“Get out.”

—

You weren’t sure why you came back to the Howling Commandos.

You were beginning to suspect that Wanda and Sam were scheming something. She was constantly begging you to visit the bar every night off she had with the promise of free liquor. It had taken a few weeks after Bucky’s birthday meltdown for you to finally budge. Maybe it was the way Wanda had pulled you along, her arm hooked through yours like she could drag you away from the weight of it all. Maybe it was the way she made you laugh, tipping her head back, auburn hair catching in the bar’s dim light, her wicked look as she shrugged off her coat and flung it onto the counter. Maybe it was because you knew he would be here.

And, maybe, just maybe, you wanted that.

Bucky stood behind the bar, sleeves rolled to his forearms, jaw tight as he poured a whiskey neat without looking up. He must’ve heard you come in like he always did, but his eyes never once lifted from his work.

You perched upon one of the barstools beside Wanda, the wood sticky beneath your elbows, the orange glow from the bar’s lights catching in the condensation on your glass. A gin and tonic. No words exchanged, no request needed, just Bucky’s hand sliding it across the table without so much as a glance in your direction.

It was almost funny, the way he refused to look at you, wouldn’t acknowledge you beyond the ghost of a touch as his fingers brushed the glass. And yet, he still remembered your drink. Still took the time to slice a bit of lemon for the rim, just the way you liked it. Never mind that he’d once grumbled about how much he hated customers who ordered anything that meant extra cleanup at the end of the night.

“You gonna sulk all night or actually have fun?” Wanda teased, knocking her knee against yours.

You took a slow sip, letting the cool burn of gin settle on your tongue before answering. “I am having fun.”

“Sure you are,” she drawled, not buying it for a second.

But the night wasn’t all bad. You were feeling good, maybe a little too good, laughing at Sam’s exaggerated retelling of a story you’d already heard a dozen times, Wanda snorting into her rum, the buzz settling in like a second skin.

But the uneasy peace did not last long, as chaos had a way of following Bucky Barnes like his own shadow.

Two guys, a little too confident, a little too eager. You felt them before you even turned, whiskey on their breath, a practiced smirk tugging at the lips. The kind of men who smelled like cheap aftershave and overconfidence, sliding into your space with easy grins and empty compliments. One leaned in too close. “Didn’t think someone like you would be drinking alone.”

You arched a brow. “Who says I’m alone?”

He took the bait, smirking. “That right? Where’s your boyfriend, then?”

“Don’t have one.” You replied, tone disinterested.

He grasped your arm, and you yanked it away, nearly elbowing Wanda beside you in the process. “Oh yeah? I could change that for you sweetheart—” 

You didn’t have time to answer before you saw the bar flap shoot up in your peripherals. 

“Hey, man,” Sam warned, barely getting the words out before Bucky was there, a cloud at the edge of your vision, muscles wound tight beneath his shirt. He wasn’t looking at you, not really, but you could feel the storm rolling off him in waves, the tension singing through his frame.

The guy didn’t even have time to react before Bucky shoved him back—hard enough to knock him off balance, sending his drink sloshing onto the floor.

“The fuck?” Whiskey-breath scowled, stumbling forward like he thought he had a chance.

Bucky stepped in, jaw clenched, fist already curled like a promise. His voice was smooth, even. “Out. Now.”

The guy scoffed, straightening. “Oh yeah? What are you, the bouncer?”

“Nah.” Bucky tilted his head. “I fuckin’ own the place.”

Sam was rounding the bar, slipping beneath the bar flap. “One rule, Bucky! We have one rule!”

“No assholes in the bar?” Bucky deadpanned, flexing his fingers.

“No. No punching customers—hey!”

Too late.

The first punch landed with a sickening crack, sharp enough to slice through the low hum of conversation. A brief, stunned silence settled over the bar, glasses paused mid-air, a cue ball rolling to a stop on the felt. Then, a gasp. A sharp inhale. Someone let out a bark of laughter.

The guy staggered back, clutching his jaw, blinking like he couldn’t quite process what had just happened. But instead of learning his lesson, he surged forward, swinging blindly in a desperate attempt to save face.

The impact came from the right. A solid hit, knuckles cutting against Bucky’s brow. His head snapped slightly to the side, strands of dark hair falling loose from where they’d been tucked behind his ears. The second punch followed fast—less precise, more frantic—but it clipped him along the cheekbone, just enough to split the skin.

A thin trail of red welled up, tracking down the sharp line of his face.

Bucky stilled.

A slow, dangerous exhale. Then, before the guy could so much as blink, Bucky struck. A brutal, efficient one-two, fist slamming into ribs, then an upward cut that sent the man sprawling. His friend hesitated, torn between pride and self-preservation, before grabbing a fistful of his collar and dragging him toward the door.

Bucky flexed his fingers, shaking out his hand like he was testing for damage, like he barely felt it. The cut above his brow was bleeding, a slow trickle of crimson trailing towards his temple, but he didn’t seem to notice. Or care.

You took a sip of your drink, eyes flicking lazily towards him, your pulse not even kicking up. Beside you, Wanda didn’t so much as blink; she just swirled the last of her rum and coke, watching the scene unfold like it was a rerun of a show she’d seen too many times before.

Finally, with a knowing smirk, she leaned in, voice low and honey-smooth. “You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?”

You swirled your gin and tonic, ice clinking against the glass, lips curling around the rim as you took another sip.

“Maybe.”

—

The back room was cold, the kind of cold that settled deep in the bones, seeping through the exposed brick walls. A single bulb hung overhead, casting a dim, yellow glow over the stacked crates of liquor and the metal shelves lined with bottles. You’d been in here many times, though usually under much more pleasurable circumstances. Bucky sat on an overturned crate, elbows on his knees, blood drying along the ridge of his knuckles. His head was tipped slightly forward, shoulders hunched as he rolled one of his split knuckles between his fingers, like he was testing if it still hurt. 

You shut the door behind you.

His jaw tightened. “Don’t.”

You ignored him, stepping past the crates and grabbing the first aid kit off the nearest shelf. “Sit up straight.”

He didn’t move.

So, with a sigh, you pressed a firm hand to his shoulder and shoved him upright. He let it happen, though he shot you an unamused look as he exhaled sharply through his nose.

“Jesus, you’re pushy.”

You crouched in front of him, flipping open the first aid kit, the sharp scent of antiseptic filling the air. He watched as you poured alcohol onto a clean cloth, soaking it through before pressing it against the cut above his brow.

Bucky flinched, fingers twitching like he wanted to grab your wrist, to stop you. But he didn’t.

“Hold still,” you murmured, dabbing at the wound.

His lip curled slightly, but he stayed put, letting you clean the blood away. His fists clenched on his thighs, shoulders wound tight like he was waiting for something worse.

“You know,” you said, voice light despite the weight in the air, “I heard from Wanda you’ve been losing it lately.”

Bucky huffed. “Yeah?”

“She said you’ve been missing shifts, and when you do turn up, you’re, uh…” You smirked, twisting the cloth to clean the edge of his jaw. “Well, these are her words, not mine—a miserable old cunt. Keep picking fights with customers.” You paused, waiting to see his response. His lips remained sown shut, his gaze cold, and he did not quite meet your eye. With an arch of your brow, you continued.

“Apparently, someone broke into your car, and you’re getting kicked out of your apartment because your landlord wants to sell it to some construction assholes.” You tilted your head, studying him. “I mean, some of that isn’t your fault, but it sounds like karma to me.”

Bucky’s fingers flexed. “Why do you care, doll?”

“I don’t,” you said easily, wringing out the cloth before pressing it against his brow again. “It’s like… watching a car wreck. Kind of captivating in a way.”

He let out a short, humourless laugh. “You’re fucked up.”

“Yeah, maybe I am.” You shrugged, barely glancing at him as you grabbed another clean cloth. “But I think, deep down, maybe I just pity you.”

Bucky’s expression darkened. “Why are you so normal about all of this? Aren’t you the one that’s supposed to be, I don’t know, freaking out? I was the one who dropped you, not the other way around.”

You paused, the cloth still pressed to his skin. You considered his words, then slowly and calmly, you replied. “It’s your own heart that you’re breaking, baby.”

Bucky’s jaw tensed. “You don’t know that.”

“I think I do.”

His lips parted like he was about to argue, but instead, he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You don’t know shit about me.”

You sat back on your heels, observing him. The bruises were darkening across his cheekbones, his knuckles still raw, and his body shuddering from the aftermath. But beneath it all—under the cold defiance and the sharp edges—you saw it. The weight of something unspoken, something he wouldn’t admit to himself.

You hummed, tilting your head. “I know a lot.”

Bucky’s gaze flickered to you, wary.

“I know that you take your coffee black, your whiskey neat,” you said, voice soft. “That you always make your bed because it’s a habit from when you served. You prefer to drive stick. You’re a cat person.” 

You held his gaze, watching the way his fingers curled. “I know that you wear two sets of dog tags. That there are ghosts following you that you don’t talk about. I know that you realised you were getting attached to me. That it scared you so badly you dropped me the moment it clicked.”

“I know that you still ask after me,” you finished, your voice barely above a whisper. “I know that deep down, you care about me.”

Silence settled between you. 

Bucky stared at his hands, dried blood caking along the ridges of his knuckles. He was still for a long time, so long you thought maybe he wasn’t going to respond at all. 

“This… this thing between us.” His voice was rough. “It was a fling. Nothing more. A moment in time, not to be repeated.”

You inhaled slowly, disappointment evident, then stood.

With an easy motion, you tossed the bloodied rag onto a nearby crate.

“Keep telling yourself that,” you murmured, stepping back.

Bucky looked up at you, something flickering behind his eyes, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t have to.

You just smiled.

“Because I know,” you said simply, turning toward the door, “that in the end, you’ll come crawling back to me.”

“I won’t.”

You glanced over your shoulder, the corners of your lips curling.

“Okay.”

—

The cemetery was quiet, save for the whisper of wind through bare branches and the distant hum of traffic beyond the iron gates. The last bite of winter still clung to the air, spring struggling to take hold, leaving the sky an endless stretch of pale grey.

You pulled your coat tighter around yourself as you stepped out of Sam’s car, boots crunching against the gravel path. Wanda climbed out from the passenger side, rubbing her arms against the cold, while Sam exhaled sharply, tilting his head towards the small gathering of headstones up ahead.

“He’s already here,” he murmured.

Bucky stood with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, his back to you, his head slightly bowed toward the grave. Even from a distance, there was a tension in the way he held himself—like he was bracing for impact or maybe just trying to keep from unravelling.

You tightened your grip on the flowers in your hand and followed Sam and Wanda towards him.

Bucky didn’t turn when you approached, but you saw his shoulders shift, the slight tensing of his jaw when he realised there was one more person than expected. He still didn’t say anything, though, just kept his eyes on the headstone.

Steve Rogers.

The name was carved deep into the stone, clean and straightforward. No rank, no medals, no accolades. Just a name. A man who had meant something to them.

You hadn’t even known Steve existed until Sam mentioned him offhand a few days ago, his voice softer than usual, the usual humour dimmed. He hadn’t given many details—just that Steve was an old friend, someone he and Bucky had served with, and that the anniversary of his death was coming up. It hadn’t been an invitation, just a passing remark, but something about it stuck with you. Maybe it was the way Sam glanced at Bucky afterwards, concern hidden beneath his easygoing demeanour or the way Wanda’s expression darkened slightly like she’d been expecting it. You didn’t know anything about the man they were mourning, but you knew Bucky, and you knew the kind of grief that sat heavily on a person’s shoulders. Maybe you wanted to pay your respects. Perhaps you just wanted an excuse to get eyes on him, to see how bad the damage was. Either way, when Wanda and Sam left for the cemetery, you were in the car with them.

You stepped forward and crouched down, laying the flowers gently against the grave. The wind tugged at the petals as you stood, moving back beside Wanda, who sent you a glance but didn’t say a word.

Sam was the first to speak. “Damn, Steve. I hope you know we visit you even in the freezing fuckin’ cold.”

A small chuckle rumbled from Bucky’s chest, barely there. “Yeah.”

Sam exhaled, shaking his head. “You know, I think about that time in training when Bucky dared you to climb the roof of the barracks, and when you actually did it, Bucky nearly had a heart attack ‘cause you realised he’d have to go up there to get you down.”

Bucky huffed, shaking his head. “Idiot did a victory pose at the top. Almost fell straight off.”

Sam laughed. “Man, I wish we had taken a photo of you, dumbass.”

They fell into an easy rhythm, trading stories, some funny, some quiet and unspoken, shared only through small glances and nods. Wanda stood beside you, hands clasped in front of her, while you listened, letting them have their moment. She hadn’t known Steve either, just fragments of memories and stories Sam had told her over the years.

Eventually, the cold started to settle in deep, and Sam clapped his hands together. “Alright, I don’t know, but I think Steve would be personally offended if we froze our asses off standing here like idiots instead of heading home.”

Wanda nodded, already turning back toward the cars. You followed, but before you could take more than a few steps, Bucky spoke.

“I’ll take her home.”

The words were short, and clipped, but they made Wanda and Sam pause.

Sam lifted a brow, glancing between the two of you, then exchanged a look with Wanda, one of those unspoken conversations between lovers that didn’t need words.

But neither of them argued.

Sam just gave a small, knowing shrug and started toward his car. Wanda followed without a word, though you could’ve sworn the auburn gave you a subtle smirk.

You exhaled softly, then turned towards Bucky’s car.

The drive was quiet.

Outside, the world blurred past, fields and roads stretching under the grey sky. You kept your hands close to the vents, soaking in what little warmth the car offered, your fingers still stiff from the cold. Bucky’s grip on the wheel was tight, his knuckles pale. He was wound up, his shoulders rigid, and his jaw locked. The muscles in his forearms twitched as he shifted gears, and every so often, he exhaled sharply like he was biting back something sharp.

Minutes passed, the ghost of unspoken words swirling between you.

Then, suddenly—

“Fuck this.” Bucky muttered the words under his breath, his grip on the wheel tightening before he jerked the car off the highway. The tyres crunched over gravel as he turned onto a narrow backroad leading toward a small, empty picnic area near a river. The place was deserted, picnic tables dusted with half-melted frost. Too cold for anyone to be out.

You sat there, the hum of the engine the only sound between you. The sky outside had darkened, clouds pressing down low on the horizon as the river lazily wound its way through the mist. Bucky’s hands gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity, his eyes fixed on the view outside. 

“How did you know about Steve?” The question left his lips quietly, almost like an afterthought, but it was sharp all the same.

“Sam.” You hesitated for a moment, gathering your thoughts. “I kind of put the pieces together. It’s his dog tags you wear, right?” Your voice came out soft but steady.

Bucky gave a single, sharp nod. “Yeah.”

You sighed, glancing out the window for a brief second. The weight in his voice, the way he carried it like an old wound, told you this was something fragile, something that had never quite healed.

“I didn’t mean to intrude. I just…” You trailed off, the words dying on your tongue, uncertain, too small for the grief that lingered between you. Your gaze flickered to his, but he wasn’t looking at you.

His voice, when it came again, was quieter than before. “Steve... Steve, he wasn’t just my friend. He was my partner.”

Something inside you stilled. The breath you’d been meaning to take got caught in your chest. “You were… together? Dating?”

“Yeah.” His voice wavered, unsteady in a way that made your stomach twist. “We were, uh, in love, I guess.”

The words hit you like a cold gust, Something in your mind clicked into place, pieces of him you hadn’t understood suddenly making sense. You stared at him, taking in the way his brows furrowed, the way the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes seemed more pronounced now, like he’d aged in the last few minutes.

“Did Sam know?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, jaw tight. “A few people did. His family, mine. A few friends.”

“I’m sorry.” You swallowed, trying to push past the lump forming in your throat. The words felt inadequate, almost meaningless. “I know my words don’t mean much or change anything, but I truly am sorry that you lost someone that important to you.”

He didn’t reply right away. Instead, his grip tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles whitening, the leather creaking beneath his hold. His eyes stayed locked on the river, but he wasn’t really seeing it. He was somewhere else.

Then, barely above a whisper, “He stood on a landmine.”

Bucky’s voice was rough, worn thin. “He was dead before… before he would have even realised he’d stepped on it. They never really recovered all of his body. He just kinda… turned into mist.”

You felt your stomach drop. A slow, creeping horror curled around your ribs, sinking its claws in deep. “You saw it?”

“Yeah.”

“Bucky, that’s horrific, I—”  You felt your words die in your throat. What was there to say? There was no comfort for something like that. No words that could make it hurt less.

Then, slowly, his head turned, an empty, haunted gaze meeting yours. “That coffin out there, it’s empty. We do this every year, but it’s like talking to the wind.”

The words were like a punch to the gut. You swallowed hard, your throat tight with the rawness of it. Slowly, you reached across the console, your fingers brushing against his arm. “He didn’t suffer.”

“No.” Bucky's voice broke for the first time. “No, I suppose I should be thankful for that.” A tear slipped down his cheek, and he wiped it away with a rough, almost impatient hand. But he didn’t pull away from your touch. Didn’t move to hide the way his hands shook, fingers still locked in a vice grip around the wheel.

You didn’t comment on it.

You kept your hand on his arm, a steady presence against the tension coiled beneath his skin. There was nothing to say—at least, nothing that would make any of it easier. He had already said enough, and you weren’t going to insult him by pretending there were magic words to fix it. So you simply stayed, grounding him in the quiet, hoping that maybe, just maybe, letting even a sliver of it out might lighten the weight he carried.

The silence stretched, thick but not uncomfortable, the kind that settled in the space between two people who understood each other without needing to fill the gaps with empty words. A sharp gust of wind rattled against the window, slipping through unseen cracks and sending a shiver down your spine, but you didn’t move. Neither did he.

Then, finally, after what felt like an eternity, Bucky turned his head, his gaze locking onto yours, raw, searching, like he was looking for something he wasn’t even sure existed. His throat bobbed, lips parting as he exhaled a slow, uneven breath. “I’m sorry.”

You blinked, taken aback. “For what?”

“How I’ve treated you these past few weeks.”

“Baby, you don’t need to apologise—”

“No, I do.” He interrupted tone tinged with frustration. “I… I realised that I cared for you. A lot. And it scared the shit out of me. After Steve, well, I swore I wouldn’t love again. I couldn’t… I couldn’t imagine going through that again. Or worse, if I died and left someone behind like that—”

You shook your head, cutting him off gently. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not though—” he began, but you interrupted him again, your voice calm, sure.

“I forgive you.”

Bucky went still, his expression unreadable for a moment as he processed your words. His jaw clenched, his eyes flicking between you and the river, as if weighing something in his mind.

A long, charged silence settled in. Then, just as you thought the moment would pass, he spoke, his voice quieter this time. “You’re sure?”

“Of course, I’m sure.” You smiled softly. “Listen. I didn’t know Steve, and I never will but… if he cared for you. If he loved you, he’d want you to be happy. He wouldn’t want you to shut yourself away from love, from feeling.”

“Honestly…” Bucky paused, sucking on his teeth. “Honestly, you’re probably right, doll.”

Bucky let out a slow breath, staring ahead like he was trying to gather his thoughts.

“I still don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, voice quiet. “Loving someone. Letting someone love me.”

You smiled softly, tilting your head. “Good thing I’m patient.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, that much is obvious.” Bucky glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, something unreadable flickering across his expression. Then, almost too softly to hear, “I want to try.”

You reached over, lacing your fingers through his. “Then we’ll figure it out together.”

His grip tightened, just for a second like he was anchoring himself to you. And then, as if realising how ridiculous he sounded, he let out a low laugh, disbelief lacing his tone. “You’re too good for me, doll.”

“Hmm, maybe.” You giggled, leaning towards him, resting your forehead against his shoulder for a brief moment, letting the warmth between you settle. “I think I’ll stick around, though.”

“Yeah?” His voice held a tinge of uncertainty like he was testing the waters. His arm shifted, moving from the wheel to pull you closer to his side. “I haven’t scared you off?”

You tilted your head to look up at him, grinning. “I think you’d have to try a little harder to do that.”

He held you closer, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. “So…” He paused, his breath hitching as if the words were caught in his throat. “Would you stick around… as my girlfriend?”

You jolted up, eyes widening in surprise. “Did the Bucky Barnes just ask me—”

“Shush, you.” He chuckled, cutting you off, his finger moving to gently press against your lips.

You smiled, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek, and he tugged you in closer, his grip firm but not demanding. His lips found yours, slow at first, testing—like he was still convincing himself this was okay, that he could have this. But as you melted into him, your fingers curling against the fabric of his jacket, something shifted. His hand slid up your back, anchoring you against him, his lips warm, sure, moving against yours with a quiet intensity.

You sighed into him, your breath mingling with his, the space between you disappearing until there was nothing but the press of his body, the soft scrape of his stubble against your skin. His fingers skimmed the nape of your neck, tilting your head slightly, and he kissed you again, slower this time, savouring it like he wanted to memorise the way you felt against him.

The world outside blurred, the hum of the car engine distant, unimportant. There was only this, only him, his warmth, the quiet, desperate way he held you like he was afraid to let go.

When you pulled away, Bucky let out a sharp sigh as if something inside him had finally relaxed. “Thank god, it would be kind of awkward if you didn’t—”

You silenced him with another kiss, and for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right.

A spark reignited. 

[vivwritesfics]

vivi i need wild danny ric, protective danny ric, true embodiment of a honey badger danny ric.

like have you ever seen that man’s eyes when he’s locked in and loaded? it’s actually wild and terrifying and oh so hot.

literally ANYTHING you can think of with unhinged danny ric

i've been thinking about danny x ex!wife for the longest time, i just haven't been brave enough to do it.

Warnings: divorce, pregnancy, angst

Masterlist

"Hey, kid."

There was something about Daniels tone of voice when he spoke to her. It used to be so full of joy, for a good seven years. And then it was full of hope, for a year after that. Now, he couldn't keep the sadness out of his voice.

She released a breath before she answered him. "Hey, Danny," she mumbled.

Daniel couldn't see her, but he could imagine it. Leaning over the kitchen counter, her head in her hands as she breathed deep. Was she crying? He couldn't tell over the phone, but the tone of her voice suggested she wasn't.

Not yet at least.

"What's up?"

After four years of dating, three years of marriage, and a year of divorce, Daniel still loved her. He'd spent a year desperately hoping that they would get back together, but she'd denied him at every step.

It wasn't that she didn't love him back, it was that she couldn't keep up with his lifestyle. She loved him, loved his passion and drive, loved watching him out on track. Even when things didn't go his way, she wanted to be there for him, wrap her arms around him and bring him all of the comfort he needed.

But it was too much.

Every race had her anxious, a mix of watching Daniel risk her life, missing work and having to catch up after the race weekend. She loved her honey badger, but she couldn't take it.

What's that saying? When you love something, let it go?

Even through the divorce, she still loved him. Nights of crying on her mothers couch, missing the man she had tried to build a life with. It had been easier when she was younger. She'd taken some time out before her career began, time to follow him around the word and support him.

When her career began, it was a slow start. But that was her choice. Her life was changing so rapidly, and she just wanted to ease into it.

It was hard to tell when it became too much. But she was tired and struggling with her workload. Missing at least three days of work a week, struggling to catch up before the next race.

And then there was the stress. Heart in her throat whenever Daniel was in his car. That time Max braked in front of him, and Daniel went into the back of him. Jesus, it was terrifying.

After nearly a year of being separated, she still missed him. Missed him enough to seek out his comfort. His arms around her, holding her close as she came, trembling in his arms. Laying here, tracing her fingertips over his tattoos.

But here they were, a month and a half later.

"Danny." Her voice broke from just his name alone. "I..."

But the right words just weren't coming.

"Can you come over?"

Daniel was running out of his house before they ended the call. He sped towards her apartment, the little apartment she had been renting ever since they divorced.

Daniel was still living in the house they shared, everything kept the way she had it, unable to change it. It was like keeping a piece of her with him, even when she didn't want to be there.

He gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. He was going to get to her, no matter what.

***

His knuckles tapped against the door. Gently, as if he was dealing with a spooked animal. "Sweetheart?" He called, and the door opened.

She was on him a moment later. A sob left her lips as she wrapped her arms around him. "Danny," she squeaked, his large hands settling on her back.

Daniel kicked the door shut as he walked her further into the apartment. "I've got you," he whispered and sat on the sofa, holding her on his lap.

He'd been in the apartment once before, a month and a half ago. But it had been nothing like this.

Daniel held her until she was calm enough to talk to him. Tears stained her cheek and his shirt when she pulled away from his shoulder.

His fingers touched her chin. "Tell me what's wrong, honey," he whispered.

So, she told him. She told him all about the five positive pregnancy tests in her bathroom. She told him about her missed period, told him about all of the anxiety that had taken over her.

Pregnant.

Pregnant with her ex-husbands baby.

Daniel's eyes moved down to her stomach. No bump, obviously. Not yet, anyway. "Sweetheart," he mumbled and dropped her chin. "You're pregnant?"

She nodded and started sniffling again.

The woman he was in love with, the woman of his dreams, was pregnant. Daniel leaned forward and kissed her.

A squeak left her lips as she pulled away. "What are you doing?"

His eyes were so pretty as he stared at her. That was the way he stared at her before the divorce, the way he stared at her on their wedding day.

"I'm in love with you," he said through a breath. "I never wanted to get a divorce. I never wanted you to move out. I never wanted to be apart from you."

He wiped her tears away.

"Honey, you're pregnant with my baby."

She stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

"I always wanted to start a family with you. You and the kids, coming to our home race. You'd have the biggest rock on your finger, better than the last one I got you. This time, we could have our kid at our wedding."

A weak laugh left her lips. "'s not as simple as that, Danny," she mumbled, her hands settling on his shoulders. "I love you too, but we can't go back to the way things were."

Daniel took her hand and kissed her fingers. "Anything," he whispered. "I'll do anything for you."

Anything for the woman he loved.

[kombuchaclock]

Time for another update!

Thanks to my sister's help I was able to cover rent for March, and we should both be fine until the end of the month. However, that might not be the case for us in April and the months following, because the daycare we both work for is closing on April 1st.

The silver lining is that we have a monthly salary and our employer has said we'll get one last paycheck in April. Also, my last school term starts next month, so I'll be receiving a financial aid disbursement that month. Finally, I plan to do my taxes next week, and I might get a refund. But this silver lining is very thin. I don't know for sure if we'll get our last paychecks before 4/5, when rent is due, given we'd had that problem before (including this month), and even if it does I'll be left with very little money (less than what our power bill later that month will be). Also, I don't know for sure if my financial aid disbursement will be all that substantial because my college's website says the pending refund is only $20. It has been wrong about my refund before so it might be wrong again, but I don't want to assume that and have it turn out to be right. In any case, I'll be looking for a new job soon, and my sister probably will as well. This has other problems: I will have to balance my new job with the class I'm taking next term. My sister isn't taking classes, but she has chronic illness that makes it hard for her to work a normal work schedule. All told, even if we find new jobs right away, we both will probably only be able to work part-time. So, with all that out of the way, I have multiple financial goals in mind.

At least $1000 is what I'll need to cover rent if my paycheck doesn't come in before 4/5. My sister might be able to cover that, but I've already asked her to do that this month, and I really don't want to ask her to do that again.

If my paycheck does come in time, I can cover rent, but not power and internet. I will need at least $300 for that. Finally, if we make it to the end of April and haven't got new jobs yet nor have we moved back in with our mom, I will need at least $1500 for May. Hopefully it won't come to that. None of these account for the possible higher disbursement or the possible tax refund, admittedly. But they also don't account for food, so, there's that. I do receive food benefits, but they're only $80 a month which is pretty paltry these days. I'm not adding these numbers up because each goal is conditional. Therefore, for now, I will say that I need at least $300 for next month's power and internet. $0/$300 Thank you for reading, sharing, donating, and commissioning. I'm sorry to keep posting about this, but things haven't really been getting better.

I may need some help!

This isn't urgent; it may not be until November. However, come that month, I may be in trouble. I have done a little financial planning today and I don't think I'll have enough for my rent and bills that month. I moved recently out of my mom's house and into an apartment with my sister, this isn't our first time paying rent but it is our first time paying as much for rent as we are now, it's a pretty penny. My job doesn't pay very much, either. I do receive food benefits and student aid but that only covers so much. If you would like to donate, you can the following ways:

Venmo - @Erika-Warne-Coles

Cashapp -$ErikaWarneColes

If you would prefer to receive something in exchange for money, I'm also available for commission! I'm an illustrator, so you could have me draw most anything. And if you can't afford to do either, sharing this post still helps. Thank you!

[baniisharur0tte]

Thin Walls ☆

you and Suguru Geto are roommates!!! but long nights lead to wandering eyes... ;)

word count: 4.1k <3

content: SMUT!!!! 18+!!!! Creep!Geto perving on u, mention of: hair pulling, P->V, oral (F!Receiving). mild breath play (M!Self-Inflicted)

authors note: i've been working on a longer fic for geto but i couldn't allow him to continue being neglected on my blog!!!! i love my baby girl cult leader <3333

(inspired by this song)

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

you and geto have been roommates for a few months now. you both moved to the other side of the city around the same time, and your mutual friend suggested you to each other when they heard about your respective roommate hunts.

it was nice, you were both tidy quiet people. you cooked for each other, helped each other with chores, you both left the bathroom neat after showers, and you each had a cat that got along well.

but the walls were thin.

a little over a month after you moved in together, the last of your respective unpacking completed, suguru was in the living room quietly watching tv before bed. his long frame sprawled out across the couch, a soft black long sleeve and grey sweatpants hanging off his lean muscular body. you called it an early night after your shower, a loose tee shirt and fuzzy shorts on as you stepped out of the bathroom.

"i'm headed in for the night, i'll see you tomorrow! would you be able to feed the cats dinner?"

"of course, yeah. sleep well!" he replied smiling slightly, shifting in his seat giving you a quick glance up and down.

not long after you shut the door behind you, he quickly put together why you were in such a hurry to get under the covers.

through the thin walls of your apartment, he heard your small hushed whimpers and moans as you pleasured yourself.

his spine stiffened as he sat up, unsure if he was hearing correctly.

she's not....

his cock hardening in his pants at the sound, he searched around the couch for the remote to turn down the volume.

a curiosity he had nurtured was raring it's head, and he was too weak to ignore it.

the first day here he noticed how thin the walls were, you had been in your bedroom on the phone, sitting amongst the clutter, trash bags scrawled with clothes and winter blankets on the front, brown cardboard boxes stacked in all corners of the room.

sorting through some nick nacks, you spoke to your friend about the moving process.

'"...and one of the movers chipped the corner off my dresser. it's brand new! i only got it a few months ago. ugh. but it's fine, everything is in one piece.... geto? yeah he's really nice, we got coffee and breakfast a few times before we signed the lease, he's great.... i mean, he just looks like a guy. you can meet him when you come over after the house is settled, but he's got long black hair and he's tall.... oh my god why would you ask me that???..... i never thought about it.. no!!!... i mean, i guess.... okay fine, yes, he's very hot. is that what you wanted to hear???... no you cannot sleep with my roommate, gross!!!! i have to go, i have to make lunch soon and unpack enough to sleep here tonight.... yeah, i'll talk to you tomorrow. bye!"

with a huff you tossed your phone over your shoulder and onto your bed, muttering to yourself ..is he hot... god, what kind of question is that?..

from the kitchen, suguru was unpacking his cookware and dishes and neatly organizing them in the cupboards. hearing your conversation, he smiled to himself and laughed.

you aren't alone in that.

his friends had been asking him about you, curious about his new roommate. "what's her name?" "what does she look like?" "is she hot?" "does she have hot friends?"

as annoying as it was, he couldn't pretend he wasn't attracted to you. when you first met at the diner to discuss potential living arrangements, the first thing he notices was your smile. bright and warm, you were inviting off the bat.

next was your eyes. the way you looked up at him as he stood over you approaching the table to greet you, they widened as you drank in his height. he found it endearing if not enticing to see your shock at his build.

the curve of your neck, the dip of your collarbones, the way your hair fell around your face.

you were gorgeous.

and it got so much worse as the weeks passed, the happenstance of intimacy you develop as you live with someone only continued to unfurl your beauty to him.

wet hair as you leave the bathroom after a shower, baggy pajamas ghosting around your frame in the morning, the passing interactions as you left the house to go out with your friends, tight shirts and sparkly earrings catching his eye as you put on your shoes and cheerfully say goodbye before leaving.

and the walls were so painfully thin.

considering the rent price, he found it particularly annoying. unsure if you had noticed, he was very careful to keep himself quiet as he touched himself, hiding in the bathroom with the shower running or waiting until you turned on your tv to fall asleep at night. the drone of a comforting show drowning out whatever huffs and soft groans escaped his lips as he pumped his cock, closing himself away in his room.

thoughts of you often crossed his mind as he pleasured himself, curiosity getting the better of him every time.

a mix between guilt and indignation swirled inside him every now and then. it was incredibly inappropriate to indulge in such lewd fantasies given the nature of your relationship, but he's allowed to think whatever he wants. the mind is a safe haven to explore all possibilities, why should he feel bad for having an interest in you?

at least that's what he told himself to wave away the sharp sting of guilt as he slowly tipped off the edge into an unsightly indulgence.

a night like any other would play to the tune of that aching lust in his chest.

on any night under your shared roof, he would find himself relaxing on the couch beside you, watching Your Show together. the gentle swish of your legs as you reposition on the couch, or the wind of you plopping yourself down next to him after getting up for a snack, wafting your perfume around him.

utterly intoxicating, stirring his stomach.

when you would scurry off to bed, he would follow your lead shortly after. tying up his hair in the mirror, an innocuous flush on his face, almost imperceptible to anyone but himself as he stares back into the mirror. as he pulls his hair up, his hands run excessively over his neck and shoulders, pulling his hair a bit too hard as he puts it up. a silent scream tearing inside him, subconsciously circling the thought of you running your hands along his skin. your hands gathering his hair, pulling it hard as he pleases you, painting artwork with his tongue. every blink brings forth a flashing image of your flushed sweaty face under him, scratching his back, snaking your hands into his hair and pulling tight, a tangled mess of limbs and heartbeats.

his low eyes stare back at him, his pulse hot in his neck. splashing cold water on himself, washing his face trying to chase away the tension he feels.

leaning into the counter brushing his teeth, the air soft and minty around him, a sparkling rainbow of bubbles.

padding into his room, he would strip of his clothes to change into loose pajama pants. the act of undressing would dance around his chest, the haunt of your fingers hooking under his shirt to strip him bare and take him hungrily. like a ravenous animal, gouging chunks out of a rich cake and licking the frosting off your fingers.

his cock stiff and begging for attention as he stood naked in the looming darkness of his room, a palpable solitude in the air.

across from him a mirror stood, he turned without thinking to meet his own gaze. his taut, towering frame in the glow of the moonlight spilling over him through the gaps in the curtains, he wondered to himself.

how would you look pressed against me in my mirror?

is there anything inside you begging to feel my skin?

can you hear what i'm thinking? would you like it if you could?

sighing and slipping into his pajama pants, he crawls into bed. already groping himself feverishly, he palmed his cock around through his pants.

rolling your name around in his mind, curious how it would taste saying it in the heat and throws of pleasure.

as if you were a spectre passing through the walls, he was flooded with broken bits and pieces of fantasies of you spurred on by the casual passings of every day life.

watching you stand at the kitchen counter cutting fruit, curious about what a fistful of your hair would feel like in his hand as he bent you over the cold granite, hunching down with you pressing his chest to your back and his cock to your ass as he whispered filthy things in your ear. i want to fucking tear you apart.

the words i'm gonna go take a shower, do you need the bathroom? were more than enough for him at times. conjuring thoughts about you lathering your body in suds, your face tipped up to the water, the gentle curve of your neck exposed, curious about what it would feel like to have the hot water hit his back as he pinned you to the wall, dropping to his knees to eat your pussy, your slick wet skin under his fingers as he dug his nails into the plush of your thighs and the fat of your ass.

once, he even caught sight of you quickly scurrying from the bathroom to your bedroom, clearly having forgotten a towel. he pretended not to notice as to not embarrass you, appearing deeply enthralled in the book he was reading on the couch, a cool air around him as he lounged effortlessly on the arm of the couch. careful not to tip his head up as his eyes followed you to your room, your arm clutching your breasts as you hurried quickly just across the hall to hide in your room to dry off and change clothes.

but for how cool his demeanor remained, the hot buzz of lust ran down the back of his neck. though it was only for a moment, he learned so much about the curve of your waist, the heave of your chest, the valley your spine leaves down your back. such curiosity he has for you, the deep yearn to learn more about you crashed into him hard as laid in his bed stroking himself though his clothes. he hooked his cock over the edge of his pants, spitting into his hand and coating himself in his own slick.

dragging long strokes over his twitching cock, his hand flies up to his face to quiet himself. dragging his palm from his forehead down the side of his face to bite his knuckle, the weight of his own heavy hands spurred him on. to be touched even by himself was enough to warrant a hitched groan tripping in his throat, muffled by his hand.

his long fingers made to be wielded by an artist wrapped tight around himself as he wracked with pleasure, that curiosity lighting a brutal fever under his skin.

your wet pussy dripping down his chin, soft lips on his neck as your tongue drags stripes up and down his skin, biting his ear and moaning his name. how would i sound in your mouth?

his name spilling from your lips as if it were a crying plea to a god he's never known, he would give you everything his body could offer to bring you pleasure. anything you asked for, anything you could need he would do to make you cum. questions and answers, movement and understanding, reacting in tandem with each other.

information, information.

he needed it, he craved it.

anything he could get from you to learn about what would make you cry tears of pleasure for him, he would dedicate himself to it.

his pace quickening, careful to keep his shuddering breaths low and shallow as to not arouse suspicion through the ever-exposing framework of your shared home.

the thought of watching his cock disappear inside you, your pussy swelling around him, accommodating his length so generously sent a chill down his spine, his back clinging to the silky sheets as sweat condenses on his skin.

your body swallowing him so greedily, milking his cock for cum like a feral animal desperate to take all of him. he would give you everything he had until he was drained and spent, pumping you deeply with his cum just as he hoped you would beg him for.

hissing and panting, his legs tensing and shaking as he approached his orgasm, the vile fantasy of him fucking you into his mattress pouring into his mind. the roll of his hips hitting everything you need, your body sucking him in as you clench around him, cumming down the length of his cock leaving a creamy ring of your cum at his base, matting down his dark happy trail.

he choked back a deep guttural groan as he came onto his stomach, holding his breath to ensure his silence as he offered up his pleasure in your name.

his head swimming from the lack of oxygen and the crushing wave of dense ecstasy washing over him, he laid still for a few minutes, his chest heaving as he came down from his high.

but all the stolen glances and hushed stimulation didn't alleviate his tension.

on a night like tonight, when his curiosity couldn't be helped, searching for the tv remote in the couch to get a better ear for the sound of your secluded pleasure, he was quickly worked into a frenzy inside. finding the remote and quickly turning the tv down to near-mute, he slowly approached the hallway hosting your bedrooms.

the door shut tight, something uncommon for you. that should've been his first clue.

your cat liked to wander in and out throughout the night, a shut door like this would warrant incessant yowling and indignant complaints from her until you dragged yourself out of bed to let her in.

leaning against the corner, your door just over his shoulder, the sound grew clearer.

the muffled moans and panting coming from behind the flimsy, feeble door poured into his ears. his cock pressing angrily against the fabric of his pants, he tipped his head back against the wall and shut his eyes. drinking in the utter music you made.

it was better than he even imagined.

he thought about all the ways you could be pleasing yourself. on your back, on your stomach, riding your pillow, a vibrator perhaps, or maybe just your fingers or your palm. maybe you were plunging a thick dildo into your aching pussy, fucking yourself imagining it was his cock pushing a bulge out in your stomach.

how he craved to know what you looked like pleasuring yourself.

the fresh idea of you being completely unaware as he watched you through a crack in your door was exhilarating. it was better than if you were willing to do it in front of him. maybe it was the corrupt and vile nature of perversely spying on his friend as she made herself cum for him over and over again.

or perhaps it was because there was no audience for you to perform for, no need to make sure you looked pretty as you brought yourself up to your high. the rawness and vulnerability of an act under no one's gaze was the most authentic pleasure you could receive.

imagine all i could learn about her if i could only see..

he squeezed his cock though his pants, weighing the risk of touching himself now or holding onto the memory of your voice dripping from the doorframe.

with a small 'aah!' falling from your lips, he made his choice.

there's no way i can wait.

he quickly and quietly unbuckled his belt and shuffled his pants down slightly, his hard cock springing free nearly hitting him in the stomach.

he spit into his hand and began quietly and furiously fucking his fist around his cock, holding his breath and quietly and shallowly releasing it as to absolutely ensure he was silent.

he slowly crept around the corner, the side of his face pressed into the doorframe, mere inches from your door as he pleasured himself with you.

what we're doing in there?

will you show me?

would you leave your door open for me someday?

he was quickly approaching his orgasm, the rush of adrenaline from doing something so disgusting and hearing your siren's voice were guaranteeing he wouldn't last long. his pace quickened and so did his breath, shallow quiet pants escaped him between staggered bouts of holding his breath. his head swimming and fuzzy, he heard you quietly call out his name.

"hmm... suguru~" you mewled quietly to yourself, your moaning and panting becoming faster, obvious you were close yourself.

his eyes widened and his other hand flew up from the doorframe to his mouth, clamping it shut as he growled quietly to himself.

there is no fucking way she just said my name.

overwhelmed by the notion that you were touching yourself to the thought of him, he was about to cum as he heard you quietly call out for him again, breathy cries indicating you were cumming all alone in the heat of your bed.

he came in his hand, trying desperately to catch it all before any spilled onto the ground, his knees slightly buckling and heaving shaky quiet pants into his palm as he experienced your cries for him, an utter exorcism ripping him apart.

he quickly backed away from your door, running to the bathroom to clean up the mess you made of him.

that night, as he laid in bed tossing and turning- ruminating over everything he heard from you, he decided he was going to force your hand. if you wanted him so badly, he was going to make it impossible to deny yourself indulging in him.

for the next few weeks, he essentially stopped wearing shirts altogether. the only time you saw him fully dressed was around the evening, often wearing a loose sweater or a baggy tee shirt- but the mornings were no longer safe for someone with such wandering eyes like yourself. shirtless with no underwear and loose pants hanging low on his pointed hips, his hair cascading over his shoulders, casually walking out of the bathroom in a towel loosely hanging from his hips, stopping in the entry of the living room to make an insignificant comment about how we are running out of hand soap, can you remind me tomorrow at the store? an obvious excuse on his end for you to run your eyes up and down his body, his hair dripping water down his chest and taut stomach, shiny soft skin and rippling muscles in his arms. the veins on the back of his slender hands drawing your eye down to wear he loosely held his towel, a tuft of black just barely peaking over the top, his long cock gently leaving an impression against the plush fabric.

he left very little to your imagination, torturing you for weeks.

watching your wide eyes pour over him that first morning as you stepped out into the kitchen, rubbing your eyes and yawning as you were met with the sight of his toned back as he cooked you both breakfast was much more satisfying than the meal you shared that morning.

his long lean frame towering over the stove, music softly playing from radio in the living room as he shuffled scrambled eggs around in the pan in front of him, his long glossy hair curtaining down his back, his slender waist and loose pants flowing around him.

you were immediately just as flushed and hot in the face now as you were when you touched yourself last night before bed.

"good morning. sleep well last night?" he said coolly, looking over his shoulder at you smiling. his eyes were low and hid a darkness behind them.

you stammer out a feeble "yeah, i did. you?" still reeling from the sight you found in the kitchen.

"i did, yes. although i admit not as well as i would've liked. i should've gone to bed early like you, i had trouble falling asleep for a bit. you want tea? i'm making some in a minute."

heat waves over your face as he acknowledges how early you scurried off to bed. he always noticed the little things about you, making you a bit self-conscious in moments like this.

you sat and ate breakfast together on the couch as he continued to neglect putting on anything even resembling a shirt.

for those few weeks, he spent his time at the house preying on your helpless inability to tear your eyes off him. standing just a little too close sometimes, his cologne would waft around you as you were enthralled in his presence.

and then he'd step away as if it was nothing. he would take note of the small movement you made almost as if to follow him, stopping yourself.

his hand would linger on yours for just a moment too long as you passed him clean cups to put away, doing the dishes together.

and then his touch would leave you as if he didn't notice. he would take note of how your breath would hitch in your throat as his fingers brushed yours.

he began undressing on his way to the bathroom to shower rather than behind the privacy of a closed door. hooking his fingers under the hem of his shirt, stretching his long arms carefully up over his head to relish in the feeling of your eyes on him as he walked down the hall to the bathroom. every now and then, he would glance over his shoulder to soak in your reaction. a visible hum around you as you stared like a deer in headlights. once, he tossed a cool smile at you as if he were an aloof cat, unaware of what he was doing. as soon as the door shut, you ran flustered and red to your room to pleasure yourself for the entire duration you heard the shower running.

but unaware he was not, and these calculated efforts were paying off in tenfold for him.

your early bedtime became a routine in the household, with the added side effect of the cats now begging him exclusively for dinner.

shortly after you would hurriedly shut the door behind you, he would abandon his book or his movie and slink around the corner to drink in the noises you made as you touched yourself to the thought of him. unable to be as quiet as you once were, a feverish infection of the mind possessing you forcing you to cry out with wavering control. he would go from presenting the affectation of boredom or as if he was ill-attentive to your habits- to a ravenous creep lurking around your bedroom door at the click of the latch.

as if he were a vampire stalking his prey in a frenzied bloodlust, he would lean his face on the same spot on the doorframe every night learning the way you sounded when you pleased yourself. some nights he would milk his cock in time with you, others he would stand still, silently drinking in every noise you made. he quickly picked up on your cues, understanding what pleasure meant to you. he would relish in fantasies fueled by his depraved habit- bending you over the couch as he worked his length into your eager, drooling pussy. digging his fingers into your thighs pushing them into his face as you shook and clenched around his tongue. resting his hand over your stomach as he rolled his hips, feeling his cock bulge against the wall of your stomach. fucking you slow and deep, watching your eyes intently. endless possibilities, so many ways he could make you cum for him in the secret of night, behind the locked doors of your home. his nasty habit of nightstalking devolved into an anxiously anticipated ritual he would wait for from the moment he woke up every day. like clockwork he could time when you would cum based on how you sounded, how much you said his name, the pitch and lilt in your breathy voice reaching out to him from under the door.

until one night, the door was cracked.

your was voice ringing out to him clearer than ever before, a curious discovery. a newfound feeling of nerves stirred in his stomach. he slowly rounded the corner to find he could see a sliver of your figure writhing in your bed, your chest heaving and the blankets carelessly discarded in a heap on the floor beside the bed.

running your hand through your hair, down your body, over your chest and thighs as the other drew quick circles over your clit. he watched you in awe, utterly entranced.

wide eyes and a cold chill running its blade down his back, he was practically shaking with anticipation. already pumping his cock in his hand, his eyebrows knitted together and his jaw slack as he silently watched you whisper his name to yourself.

your voice growing louder with every pant, you cried out for him again. he was breaking down under the weight of your lust for him, a burden he wished more than anything to relieve you of. consumed with desire to get closer, he was frenzied trying to come up with anything that could get him inside. you called out for him once more, a desperate 'suguru, please~' making his eyes roll back and a small grunt to get stuck in his chest.

his mind whirring, he came up with something particularly perverse.

if she's calling for me, why wouldnt i come running?

he rounded back down the hall into the looming darkness of the living room, hiking his pants back up and painfully shoving his hard cock into them. smoothing his shirt down, his heart pounding, he turned back towards your door.

he slowly pushed it open with the tips of his fingers, unfurling the sight of your flushed face and heaving chest for him to admire- your eyes shut tightly as you rolled your nipple between your fingers. your body rocking against your hand, the steady roll of your hips hypnotizing him. the thick tension and heavy heat in the room was reaching the point of snapping at any moment.

with the creak of your door, his voice poured into the room in a low sultry purr, "you called for me, you need some help?"

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

(authors note#2- if heaven exists it's in a dark room behind a locked door with suguru geto. when i die, take me to him.)

[wings-of-ink]

Kitty updates? With pictures? Maybe even a video?

If you've been following for a bit, you might now that me and my spouse adopted two kitties last New Year's Eve. If you're interested in how they're doing and in for some cute pics, see below!

Arlo, AKA "Father Arlo" (because of his little white patch that looks like a collar)

This is the most chill cat I have ever experienced. He is fearless and curious and so playful. But he's also SUPER cuddly (and too smart). He knows how doorknobs work (thank goodness he does not have thumbs), he knows how to unseal their food storage (we have to keep a large weight on top of it now), and he likes to knock over the treat box and watch his brother eat them (and get the blame - once - before we figured out it was a setup).

Arlo enjoys sleeping on my face or curling around my neck. He must be as close as possible at all times. If you so much as think about petting him, he purrs. His white patches are soooo much softer than the rest of him. His black fur is very silky, but the white is all floof and is a longer length. He LOVES tummy scritches!

Arlo is very intrigued with the dishwasher. He is less obsessed with the area behind the refrigerator now, though, he tries to get inside it now. He also loves chasing ice and gets terribly excited if he hears us getting any. He likes treats, but prefers to chase them.

Miles, full name "Timothy Gordon Miles," AKA "Gordy" and "Mr./Professor Miles" though sometimes I also call him "Melon Ball" lol

Miles has become a real ham. He is a shy guy, but still so affectionate, if a bit strange. He is one of the least graceful creatures I have ever known. When he wants my attention, he gently reaches up on my legs (without claws) and just paws at me.

He doesn't like surfaces that are "too soft" which is one of the weirdest thing I've seen in a cat. He likes woven or even scratchy fabrics (aside from my sweatpants). Whereas Arlo was curling up with us at bedtime within the first week, Miles took a couple months to decide he'd like to join. He particularly likes the foot of the bed or the crook of my spouse's knees, lol.

His favorite spots are the baskets on the cat trees. He likes to be held, but prefers to be on his back and cradled like the bebe he is.

Though Miles startles easier, he is about just as chill as his brother. His fur is incredibly soft! He also generates electricity. The air in the house was dry enough that static was an issue for a while and just by petting him, we would get little shocks, lol. It was like having a grey and white Pikachu.

Arlo is a machine about play. His favorite thing is the box-tunnel I made him. His brother doesn't really like it, but likes to wait on either end for Arlo to pop out.

These two are the best of buddies. They are so patient with each other. They never swat or hiss even when food or treats are involved, it is unreal. Though they each have a food bowl, they still prefer to eat together from the same one. They also LOVE my pants???

Arlo and Miles adore being in the bathtub (empty) and just playing in it. They just roll around and wrestle in it...Naturally, we also have a passion for boxes, paper bags, and tissue paper.

These two have been such a joy to love, even when they are up to no good - breaking mugs (Arlo) or STEALING A ROLL OF TOILET PAPER (Miles). ^_^

[bellaxgiornata]

What's Left to Lose [1/2]

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 3.7k [Part two] [Jax Fic Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; nurse!Reader, angst with an eventual happy ending, pining, emotional hurt/delayed comfort, Tara is an ass, Reader has a brother (nameless/description-less to be inclusive as possible)

Summary: Ever since your brother patched into SAMCRO's charter and you moved to Charming three years ago, you and Jax grew close. Despite having quietly fallen in love with him, you'd accepted your position as just his best friend–until Tara unexpectedly returns to Charming and rips him straight from you. Now you're left feeling like nothing at all to him.

a/n: I've been craving something angsty with Jax, so I wrote this little thing that's been in my head all week. There's no comfort in this first part, but I'm intending to give it at least a part two. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Jax Teller One Shot Tag List: @kmc1989

Everything had changed in a matter of just a few weeks–and you absolutely hated it.

Over the past three years since you’d moved to Charming shortly after your brother had patched over to SAMCRO’s charter, you’d gotten used to Jax calling you a few times a week. He’d often be checking in to see if you were working a shift at the hospital that night or if you had plans with your other friends, because if you were free, he'd be inviting you to hang out so he could get a break from the guys’ bullshit. Other times you’d finish a shift to find a text or a voicemail from him telling you to get your sweet ass over to the clubhouse for a party before the chaos of it had even begun. 

But your phone history showed that it had been almost a month since he last called you. The previous few texts you’d received from him had been just over a week ago, and they'd been short responses to the texts you had sent him asking if he wanted to have a few drinks with you–something that you’d both done frequently if he wasn’t wrapped up in club business–which he'd declined. Jax’s name barely ever appeared on the screen of your phone anymore.

Lately he kept telling you that he was busy. Because he was always busy now–too busy for you. Ever since Tara reappeared in Charming unannounced, stepping back into Jax’s life just over a month ago like she still belonged there, he had distanced himself from you. She'd been here barely more than a month and had already ripped your best friend away from you.

And Jax and you had always been incredibly close. While he and Opie had been best friends since childhood, the relationship between you and Jax had somehow become infinitely closer. The two of you talked about everything and anything, including some things you figured that he had accidentally drunkenly spilled to you on the nights he’d had a few too many to drink. There was just something about your relationship with each other that always felt easy and right, and you’d never had nearly as much fun with anyone else before you met Jax.

But now there were no more late nights drinking beers on the roof of the clubhouse while sharing cigarettes under the cover of a few stars while Jax vented about the direction the club was going in. No more getting high the day after a night of drinking, riding on the back of his bike to the gas station on the corner of Main Street and sharing a box of candy, a bag of chips, and a giant blue raspberry slushie as you both walked through downtown together. He didn’t seek you out at clubhouse parties anymore, didn’t step outside to smoke with you, and he certainly hadn’t incurred the look of warning from your brother that he usually received whenever you climbed off the back of his bike after one of your usual adventures. 

As you walked through the brightly lit halls of St. Thomas Hospital, making your way back towards the nurse’s station so you could finish the last couple of hours of your shift after the break you'd just finished, you’d become painfully aware of his lack of visits while you worked, too. When things were running smoothly with the club, you could count on at least one surprise visit a week from Jax during your break times. He always brought you better coffee than the shit served here in one of his tumblers from home, a satisfied grin on his face every time you thanked him profusely for it like he’d just somehow saved your life. The pair of you would usually sit outside in the outdoor cafeteria of the hospital while Jax listened to you vent about your day. You always loved when he added his own amusing thoughts just to get you to laugh. 

But those coffee breaks together had stopped the moment Tara had returned. Instead, you’d catch him in the halls every once in a while making his way towards her office, greeting you with a nod and a couple of words and nothing more. Or you might see him in the parking lot leaning against his bike, his attention fixed on his phone as he clearly waited for her to finish her shift.

Waiting for her. Not you.

You didn't understand what was happening between them, either. During one of the many drunken nights you’d spent with your head resting on Jax’s shoulder, the pair of you leaning against the wall behind his dorm room bed at the clubhouse, you’d learned that she had tried to drag him from the club eleven years ago. She had given him some sort of ultimatum, stating that he would leave Charming with her if he truly loved her. 

The way he'd spoken about that last conversation they’d had–with an agonizing calmness and a vacant look in his eyes–told you everything you needed to know that you knew he'd never say. When she left him all those years ago, she had completely destroyed him. You knew Jax well enough to know the real reason he never got serious with anyone, the reason he never let anyone get too close to him, and the reason he’d never gone on a single date as long as you'd known him. It was because of her. Because of the hurt that still lingered inside of him when it came to Tara, the hurt that had never completely healed. Because she had absolutely done a number on his heart and his trust.

That was why you’d never pushed for anything more than friendship with him, never tried to see if he felt any of the things you did those times you two were more affectionate than friends should ever be. You’d come to understand that he’d never gotten over her from the very little he ever opened up about her. It was also why you’d reluctantly forced yourself to look the other way whenever he took some croweater to his dorm room when he was wasted. You knew those girls meant nothing to him, that they weren't anything but something more satisfying than his own hand. So you let it go because you always held onto the hope that someday he might realize there was something more than friendship between the two of you. You had hope that someday he'd see it. Stupid, foolish, steadfast hope.

Until Tara came back and set all your hopes on fire.

Turning the corner of the hallway as you navigated the hospital, you felt your heart sink to your feet at the sight of the white doctor's coat making its way towards you at the opposite end of the hall. Because of course you’d have to run into her today. St. Thomas wasn’t that large of a hospital after all, it was often impossible to avoid running into her here.

The second Tara spotted you, a bitter smile twisted her lips upwards. It was the same look she’d been giving you for the past two weeks now, ever since one of the other nurses mentioned that Jax used to come here and visit you all the time before he'd been stopping by to see her. And she’d very quickly decided that she didn’t like you after that, always shooting you dirty looks or making passive aggressive comments about how haggard you looked, or hinting at you being some sort of club pussy on your nights off. Always talking down to you with that petulant smile on her face.

“Don’t you have a bedpan to be cleaning up or something?” she commented as she neared.

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes at one of her many attempts to demean your position as a nurse, you set your jaw and kept on walking down the hall. Giving in to the urge to break her nose–to prove to her that she wasn’t nearly as tough as she thought she was–was always so strong whenever she opened her mouth. But you’d most likely end up fired, with an assault charge, and a guarantee that Jax would only continue to keep you out of his life. So you refrained from ever acting on the impulse.

“Oh, you're trying to ignore me now?” Tara asked, her words clearly meant to taunt. Her footsteps down the otherwise empty hall came to a stop behind you before you heard her voice again. “Still pissed at me for being the one he wants, are you?”

Arms crossing over your chest, you could feel your hands balling into fists as she goaded your retreating form. Just one hit. One right hook straight to her nose like your brother had taught you all those years ago. That would shut her goddamn mouth up. But instead you grit your teeth and kept on walking.

“You will never be what he wants, you know,” Tara called down the hall after you.

Stopping mid-step, you halted in the middle of the empty corridor. Those same words had echoed in your mind for years now, usually in your own internal voice. It was a fear you’d had for a while as Jax continued to keep you at arm’s length, burning through girls in his bed like it was nothing while still only playfully flirting with you. Until he’d gone back to following Tara’s shadow like an angry, lost puppy the first chance he got. 

“But you know that, right?” she continued, clearly pleased that she’d caused you to stop. “You’re nothing but a small town nurse who gets wasted and high in her free time at that clubhouse. No better than the croweaters sucking whatever cock swings their way.”

Head whipping over your shoulder, your eyes narrowed back at Tara. “I’m not a fucking club whore,” you snapped. 

“Right,” she said with a nod, stalking towards you with far too much confidence. “Because your brother is a Son. So you think that somehow makes you better than the other girls trying to catch their attention, right?”

She came to a stop just in front of you, the toes of her shoes practically touching yours. As she leaned her face towards you in an attempt to intimidate, invading your personal space, you found yourself struggling to keep your composure. Everything inside of you just wanted to take a swing at her, just one.

“But you’re not,” she continued, voice dropping into a low hiss. “You’re just as useless and forgettable as the rest of the stupid fucking girls that hang around the club with their tits and their asses out. You mean absolutely nothing to Jax. Just as little as all the other croweaters. You always have.”

A sick, roiling sensation hit you in the gut at her words. You wanted to spit something back in her face, to tell her that she was wrong and far too fucking full of herself. But you hesitated, the month long absence of Jax from your life making you question your ability to even argue otherwise before she was speaking again.

“He’s mine,” she warned you. “He’ll always be mine. And you will never, ever have a place in his life. Not just because you don’t matter to him like I do,” she continued sharply, “but because I’ll never let you near him.”

“You don’t even know him.”

The words that you’d been wanting to scream at her for weeks every time she’d looked at you wrong or said something cruel finally fell right from your lips. You couldn’t hold them back as you unflinchingly held her glare with your own despite the way it felt like a fist was squeezing your heart in your chest as the words ‘you don’t matter to him’ repeated in your mind. 

Tara laughed bitterly before she straightened, no longer directly in your face. “I know him better than anyone,” she disagreed. “Including you.”

“You know a teenager from eleven years ago,” you shot back, hands still balled into fists as your arms hugged your chest tighter. “You don’t know the man he is now–what’s in his heart and his head. You don’t know a damn thing about him anymore.”

Tara’s lips twitched briefly at the corners, her eyes still narrowed at you as they ran up and down the length of you in silent appraisal. “I know damn well you’re not what he wants,” she spat. “You’re forgettable. Not someone worth a second look. I can promise you, he will never want you like you so clearly and pathetically want him. So I suggest you let it go and stop trying to text him asking to spend time with you before I make sure he never wants to look in your direction again.” That ruthless little grin was back on her lips. “And believe me, I could do that. Make him hate you. Make him revulsed at the sight of you.”

As much as you wanted to call her bluff, there was a part of you that truthfully was afraid that she could manage to do exactly that. Pit Jax against you, make him hate you. With the way he’d been acting the past few weeks, he hadn’t seemed like the Jax you’d gotten to know over the last three years at all. And the last thing you wanted was to lose your best friend even if it felt like you already had.

A self-satisfied smirk pulled at Tara’s lips when she saw how quickly that threat had silenced you. She knew she’d gotten under your skin finally. But before either of you could say another word, a figure appeared at the other end of the hallway. The movement caused both of you to turn your heads before you caught sight of Jax just as he realized he’d stumbled into something happening between the two of you. His expression shifted between a mixture of things so quickly that you only managed to catch a couple of emotions��surprise, guilt, frustration–before he’d thrown that usual stoic calm over his features which often made him impossible to read.

“Everything good here?” Jax asked as he sauntered towards the pair of you.

You’d been about to answer, but Tara beat you to it as she gestured a hand in your direction.

“You really need to get a handle on the croweaters “ She sent you a sidelong glare before adding on, “They clearly don't know when their mouths are wanted.”

“She’s not a croweater, Tara,” Jax replied, sounding tired. 

He glanced over towards you, taking in your posture as you noticed how exhausted and worn down he looked. He looked as if he hadn’t been sleeping well for a few days. His blonde, shaggy hair was messier and more disheveled than usual, and even the way he carried himself seemed a little off–sluggish and weary. You wondered if it was his thoughts or something else keeping him up late at night before you quickly shut those thoughts down. You probably didn’t want to know the answer.

“I’ll meet you in your office, alright?” he said, focusing back on Tara. “Just gimme a minute.”

Tara stood there eyeing you, that smugness still radiating off of her before she finally continued down the hall in the direction she'd been going in initially. Your attention remained on Jax, studying his face as his eyes followed Tara’s retreating form until it was gone. Then he ran a hand across his mouth in agitation as his gaze drifted back to you.

“What're you doing?” he asked.

Your brows immediately drew together at the accusation in his tone. “What are you talking about?” 

Jax’s head gestured towards where Tara had just disappeared. “Talking to Tara,” he clarified. “Whatever that was clearly wasn't friendly. What're you doing?”

Lips parting in surprise, you couldn't believe he was blaming you for that tense situation he had just stumbled on. Jax had always known you to be fairly level-headed even if you were blunt and spoke your mind. You didn't start shit at the clubhouse despite the few times you'd shut a girl up when you'd truly needed to and he knew that.

“Oh, so I'm the one starting shit?” you shot back incredulously. “Is that the bullshit she's poisoning you with?”

Jax made a face immediately, his expression twisting into one of distaste. “Poisoning me? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

The look on his face gave you pause before you could blurt out everything that'd been on your mind about him and Tara since she returned. But you could see the way his brows had drawn together as his eyes narrowed back at you, his mouth a tight line. He was getting pissed. At you. Something that had never happened before. You knew Tara was a topic that had often been off-limits with him in the past, so calling out her bullshit seemed like it'd get you nowhere with him, even if he desperately needed someone to yank his head out of his own ass.

“She stopped me,” you said instead. “Trust me, I have no desire to have hallway chats with her. That was all on her.”

“Just stay outta shit with Tara,” he told you, moving to step past you like he was already done talking to you. “It’s none of your business.”

Your eyes finally fell to what he was holding in his hand as he took a step forward in the direction of Tara’s office. It was a tumbler. Probably a tumbler filled with coffee. Just like he used to always bring you. The sight of it left you breathless, feeling as if someone had just slammed their fist right into your chest and knocked the wind straight out of you.

“You're bringing her coffee now?” the question slipped softly out before you could stop it.

For the briefest moment, Jax looked guilty at your question and the tone of your voice as his eyes fell to the cup in his hand. But almost as quickly, his jaw tensed and he focused back on you.

“It's none of your business, like I already said,” he snapped.

“So that's it then?” you asked, your mouth suddenly having a mind of its own. “You only have time for Tara now?”

Jax turned back towards you, that frustration from a moment ago returning and setting him off like a lit match. He tensed as he stepped towards you, his eyes narrowed into a sharp glare.

“Maybe I've been fucking busy,” he snapped at you. “You think of that? Maybe I don't have time to sit and drink with you because I've got other shit going on.”

“For a month, Jax?” you asked in disbelief. “Too busy to call or text? Too busy to talk when I'm at the clubhouse? You've been like that ever since Tara came back–you're avoiding me.”

“What?” he snapped, shaking his head at you. “You think I'm avoiding you, is that what this is? You're mad cause you're not getting all my attention? Are you fucking serious right now?”

“I'm mad because you haven't been acting like yourself lately!” you shot back, waving a hand at him. “You never get mad at me like this!”

“Cause you're actually pissing me off right now!” he yelled back.

Those words quieted you, your mouth closing before another thing could come out of it. You'd clearly gone too far and now he was probably just going to push you further away. And dammit, that hurt. All of this hurt.

He pointed a finger in your face as he leaned in towards you, his voice growing dangerously calm as he continued. “Leave the shit with Tara alone, I'm not gonna say it again,” he warned you. “It ain’t your goddamn business. Stay the hell outta it.”

He didn't stand there another second longer before he turned and headed off in the direction Tara had left a few minutes ago, abruptly ending the conversation with you. You stood there watching the back of him, your eyes fixed on the reaper of his kutte until he disappeared towards her office and left you standing alone in the hallway.

A strangled, choked noise fought its way up your chest and out of your mouth before you threw a hand over it. Everything felt like it was suddenly crumbling around you, a burning ache exploding in your chest at the way Jax had just gone off on you.

Ducking into the empty room nearby, you could feel the sting of tears as you slipped inside. You abruptly shut the door after yourself before sinking to the floor, your back to the door as both of your hands flew over your mouth to muffle the sounds of the sobs beginning to fall out of you. 

That hadn't been like Jax at all. Not with you. He'd never gotten pissed like that at you before, never gotten in your face. Even when he was in a bad mood, he'd always been careful with you. Always immediately apologized the handful of times he'd accidentally snapped at you. 

But not this time. 

Warm, wet tears spilled down your cheeks as you shook with sobs against the closed hospital room door. The memory of the way Jax had looked at you just now had Tara’s earlier threat running through your mind again. How she could make him hate you, never want to look in your direction again. Was that what she was already doing?

Where the hell had the Jax you knew for the past three years gone? The one who'd held you close when you'd had a really bad week at the hospital and never minded if you'd cried on his shoulder? The one who used to make you smile with his smartass mouth, and who sent you voicemails to tell you about some ridiculous thing that happened when you'd been working a late shift at the hospital and couldn't be there to witness it? Where was the Jax who'd pick you up sloppy drunk from girls night outs with your friends and called you adorable as he made sure you got home safe?

What the hell had she done to him?

[dravenxivuk]

I've been using the visible armband for about a month and it's really helpful.

I massively blew past my 5 pace points a couple of weekends ago and am still struggling to pull back from that, but the armband has been super useful in working out what makes me worse.

As a result I now actually use the stool in the kitchen on the rare occasions I make it down there, and my wife is going to look into getting me some kind of stool for the bathroom so I can sit down while brushing my teeth.

It can get upsetting at times. Last night I was so proud of myself for getting to bedtime within my 5 pace points despite having an everything shower. (Sat down (as I have for ages), took regular breaks to just sit and breathe, took my electrolyte drink in with me, stayed on my shower chair to mostly dry, and my HR didn't go over 100!!! yey!) BUT doing my teeth and other pre bed things pushed me nearly a full point over. I CRIED. Which is why we're looking for a bathroom stool.

My PoTS is, well, my PoTS is my PoTS but I'm slowly learning to manage it better. My pain is generally lower because I'm not overdoing things as much.

It's made me realise my physical capabilities are worse than I thought, which has helped my physio adapt the exercises she gave me. It's a work in progress.

Mostly I'm still in the data gathering stage I think.

It's also helped my Wife prepare the house for when she's away for a night, like tonight. I mean, I've still used double my pace points and the day isn't over, but I've only had to go downstairs once because she prepped my lunch and brought it upstairs for me before she left. Things like that.

I'm waffling. I'm very tired. I need to go recline to get my HR back down to a sensible level.

But so far the armband has been worth every penny.

Hi, long time lurker with hEDS, thank you for all your chronic illness information! Could you tell us a bit about the Visible app? I just downloaded it, and it seems great. Do you have their armband? Are there things about it you’ve found particularly useful / not useful? (I may have missed a post about this along the way, apologies if so)

I do have the armband and it’s been very useful for me in pinpointing which tasks burn up more energy than I realized, and also at helping predict and avoid energy crashes based on the data it’s collected.

One example I can think of is that as part of my physical rehab I try and go for a short walk around me neighborhood each day, weather and ailments permitting.

On normal days that walk will use up maybe 2.2 of my allocated pace points, which the armband helps detect and estimate via the constant monitoring of the armband.

On days when I am heading into a flare that exact same walk will suddenly cost me 12 points and the visible app will send me alerts telling me I need to slow down and rest.

I don’t feel any different, and at first I thought it was glitching and went about my day as normal, thinking the app was wrong about the rate at which I was burning through energy, but then a few hours later a major migraine started to develop and I went into a crash.

This has happened multiple times now and every time I’ve ignored it, my migraines have been debilitating/hospitalizing.

Since then I’ve started paying closer attention to when tasks are taking up more energy than usual and adjust my day accordingly, which helps me avoid major crashes. This has helped reduce my chronic migraines to moderate intensity instead of severe, which has led to the realization that there might be a metabolic factor to my migraines, pending further investigation by my medical team.

My pain from my EDS is lower too because I’m not accidentally overdoing it, and while my POTS is largely the same, that too has improved ever so slightly as I have cut down on the amount of over exertion I was unknowingly doing.

The app and armband certainly isn’t for everyone, and I do have to unpair and repair the device to my phone more than I’d like, but it’s genuinely been game changing for me in managing my chronic illnesses.

[miwiheroes]

Dropping Byler Evidence Every (Other) Day Until Season 5

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Day 33: Love Triangle Imagery . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

Hi so..... this is super awkward bc I don't think I've done one of these in almost a MONTH??? honestly it's because of low motivation, nothing to do with my interest in byler or stranger things analysis. I also have lots of ideas its just very hard to find the motivation lately to do one of these. Anyways, now that I'm pretty much back to doing these, I can carry on making the slides for these as well (bc im compiling all these posts into a slideshow that I'll release prior to S5, depending on how confident I am in byler by then).

So, as you probably know, a lot of Mileven fans or general fans of the show refuse to believe that there is a true love triangle between Will, Mike and El. I don't think that they are refusing to see it because they are stupid or because they are media illiterate (although maybe it comes to that), I think a lot of Mileven fans refuse to see the imagery because they know that if there truly is a love triangle then their ship is dead. They know, deep down, that if there was a love triangle there, then Mike's "better option" is Will. Or that Mike will end up with Will, based on how love triangles usually work in ST or other shows.

If an existence of a love triangle is there, then byler has to be canon. It would make no sense (and Milevens know this) to make a new love triangle where the original relationship ends up together in the end while the other character moves on.

This is a queer love triangle too. One ship is straight and the other is queer. We need to take that into account and not ignore it. The writers, some of whom are queer, should know that it would be a poor message for the queer relationship to be the one that is tossed aside.

Mileven has been purposefully shown to seem unhealthy and disingenuous, and Will doesn't know the true extent of that, so he selflessly gives up his own feelings for the other relationship.

El needs to be independent and needs to understand freedom from the men in her life.

So, if a love triangle does exist, then we should know which side will end up being the endgame relationship. But this is denied by a lot of people (for example):

The show spells it out that this is a love triangle so, so many times. I'm just going to talk about the imagery in this post, but there are so many things that point toward a love triangle. E.g. -- the parallels between Byler and Mileven which show that Byler is either just as loving as Mileven or more so, Will sacrificing his feelings for Mike, and Will literally having feelings for Mike.

This one is obviously the main one^^. This shot, on the surface, shows that Will is "getting between" Mike and El's relationship. Keep in mind that this is after the van scene where we have no idea what Mike is thinking. This isn't just a show of how sad Will is because of Mike and El's relationship either, because he's shown to be completely happy 2 seconds later.

In fact, it is actually Mike who looks between El and Will and seems upset or questioning. It's Mike's feelings that are beginning to become the wedge between him and El, not Will's feelings. Will is literally the one trying to glue their relationship back together -- so why put him here?

It's to show that he's getting between them in a different way -- not of his own fault. He's indirectly causing conflict for Mileven because of Mike's feelings.

This scene is different here because they purposefully put Will between Mike and El to make you feel bad for him. These scenes are not about Mileven's relationship/ how good they are for each other. The "cuteness" of their relationship is not something that's supposed to make you feel good, in fact, it's supposed to make you feel bad for Will who has to watch that.

In a love triangle, you're supposed to root for a specific relationship, and good writers will try and make you root for the relationship that will happen, in order for the viewers to feel satisfied. This shot just creates negative feelings about Mileven, which would be odd if they ended up staying together.

The funny thing about this one is that Netflix has begun to use this shot for S5 "promo" (its literally not promo, but yknow). They would only use this shot either because they are the most important characters in S5, or because their love triangle is one of the major romantic plot points that ends up paying off.

Also, after this shot -- Mike ends up stood next to Will. This is to show which "side" he has chosen, if you read between the lines. Despite literally just making a love 'confession' to El, the writers still had Mike stand next to Will instead.

This piece of imagery is similar to the last one in that Mike is choosing whose opinion he finds the most important. He is effectively in conflict with both Will and El, and his hands are crossed, showing that he is tied up between both of them. However, the directors chose to include a separate shot where Mike chooses to look to his left, where Will is:

This shows whose argument/ conflict he cares the most about. Even though he can't say anything to Will yet, he wants to see his reaction and what he's thinking.

In this one, the disco ball is purposefully placed between Mike and Will. This is definitely purposeful because the camera moves enough between the scene where Mike leaves to go find socks and the scene where he comes back to have it placed in the middle of Mike and Will. Read more about this if you search up the hashtag discogate >:))

Here are some more pieces of love triangle imagery that I can't say much about except LITERALLY LOOK!!! the writers are trying to show you that they are a trio of people with a complicated romantic storyline!!!

The imagery here is supposed to show a love triangle at first. But a lot of it just points towards the fact there is no other choice other than Byler. Most of the time it shows El and Mike being either the main couple with Will looking at Mike on the sidelines (making the audience feel bad for him) or it shows Mike choosing Will while El is independent or on her own.

Idk, with these you just can't deny that there is some sort of a love triangle, and when you acknowledge that there is one, it is extremely clear what is going to happen with it.

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

Gonna scream if I have to see another untagged buddie take on my fyp because y'all just keep putting 911 abc or 911 spoilers while also saying respectfully I want Tommy to die or he's a predator or some other bullshit and not tagging anything else. Learn how fandom courtesy works and tag your shit so that people can filter it out if they don't want to see it. It's gotten to the point where I've had to filter the goddamn Eddie Diaz tag, and I did not want to ever have to do that because Eddie is hot all the time and funny sometimes and has been a main character on a show I've been watching for almost 7 years and has been there for a lot of moments I'd like to be reminded of. Will scenes of Buck, Eddie, and Hen tripping on acid cross my fyp again? What about Eddie, Chimney, and Buck dumping popcorn on Hen? Will I get the occasional sprinkling of Buddietommy content? Probably not, because I've had to filter a character tag because people can't be considerate at all. And now it's going to turn into filtering the tag for a show I watch.

I hate this website. I've been back for two months and I'm already sick of it. I lived through the original "female presenting nipples" period and this is the most annoyed I've ever been.

[sketchtastrophee]

might finish this some time, for now its just a shaded sketch 😔 supposed to be after that incident where he got out and killed a bunch of employees

im gonna toss out a prediction abt what a ch5 trailer might look like 😈 (also sorry for not posting for a month)

ok so for the ch4 yarnaby trailer we got a direct continuation of where we left off in ch3. i have a feeling we won't be getting anything like that for ch5, at least not initially. i anticipate the opening scene of ch5 to be either

the red smoke we see at the end successfully knocks us out. we wake up in a new location (having been taken there by someone else) and the game begins there instead of where ch4 ended

we have to escape the room we were in at the end of ch4 before the red smoke takes effect. maybe once we get the door open, huggy breaks down the entrance which starts a chase (it'll be funny if he falls down a pit at the end of the chase)

the one where we get taken could work for a teaser, but i've got something different in mind that could be pretty cool for a trailer

rq IM GONNA LAY OUT SOME ASSUMPTIONS. i'm not sure if ch5 is the last, i've always assumed it would be. i don't know how and why there would be a need for ch6. i'm also assuming that the prototype will be the main villain of this chapter and at one point or another will have his design revealed

OK SO FOR MY PITCH..

before prototype blew us up poppy ran off. that tunnel/vent thing she ran into probably leads back to the prison and prototype is going to find her before he starts looking for us, which leads me to my idea... how awesome sauce would it be if we get a cinematic trailer of the encounter she has with him? i have no doubt he's going to catch her eventually, so it'd be really cool to actually SEE it. they wouldn't have to reveal his full design, maybe just his eyes or a tiny portion of his face in the dark (that'd be fucking terrifying 😭 wtf). keep in mind this would be posted after the arg, which honestly might reveal partially what he looks like

ALSO RELATED TO HOW HIS DESIGN SHOULD BE REVEALED... i think he should be revealed in a cinematic trailer, NOT the game NOR a gameplay trailer. ofc u could show him in both of those things, but i think the initial reveal should be given its own trailer

the reason for this is because there's no good way to show off the model in-game. there's a lot of things that could go wrong. if it isn't a cutscene with a forced camera perspective the player might not even be looking. their graphics could be on low which would dampen the reveal as well. if it's a chase or a boss fight we wouldn't have any time to get a good look at him either.

a gameplay trailer would obviously force you to look at him but i don't think it'd do him enough justice. considering how important he is, you probably want the reveal to be the main focus and everything leading up to it would cater to that. there'd need to be proper build up which is why a cinematic trailer just sort of works better in this instance

ik it would kind of "spoil" it, but i don't see any benefit to having that reveal in-game. ofc, even if you did a full reveal in a trailer, that doesn't mean we have to see him in the light. this works better bc you get to be VERY specific about what you do and don't show. the lighting, sound design, camera work; all of it gets to be fine tuned

anywho its hard to see the text on the walls with the shadows, so here's the drawing without those layers

[nessieart]

The Way Back. XII

WC: ~5k

Summary: These powers were meant to help people. Help The Avengers, your family. It felt like every time you used them, something bad always happened. Maybe someone has the answers, somewhere.

Bucky x reader(past) || Steve x reader

AN: HI! i'm so sorry this took SO long! Not proof read, I just wanted to get this out. Please enjoy, let me know what you think :)

Masterlist

Previously:

You both study each other for another moment. Carol smirks after a long moment, "Show me what you can do," it's not a question. She nods her head to the side. "I'll race ya."

A small smile curves your lips. When you go to take a step closer, Steve puts a hand on your shoulder, stopping you. "I'm not sure if she should. Y/N just woke from a month long coma. Maybe she should take it easy." There's a squeeze to your shoulder.

Carol looks you in the eyes, raising her eyebrows in amusement. "Yeah? She needs to take it easy? Seems like you've gotten enough rest to me."

You huff out a laugh, smile tugging wider, "I'll be fine, Tough Guy. Thanks," you step away from him, and Carol ignites her powers first, then you do.

She takes off like a shot, a bullet through the sky as she gets farther away. You haven't used your powers like that in a very long time. At least, that's what it feels like.

"You don't have to do this, sweetheart. You have nothing to prove." You look back at Steve then, resolute in your decision.

"Yes, I do."

Flying through the skies with Carol was exhilarating. She never asks if you're ok, or if you need a break. She waits and lets your powers surge and grow. Because if anyone knows something about what your powers could do and what they're capable of, it would be Carol.

You both landed hours later, you felt better than you had in a long time.

Stretching muscles that you had never known to be there.

"I've never flown like that before," you let out a breathy laugh. "never knew I could do half that, really."

Carol smiles at you, bumping her shoulder with yours as you both make your way back to the compound.

"stick with me, kid. I'll help you out."

"I'm in my 30s. Why does everyone call me kid?" you heave a sigh.

"I'm 64," Carol smirks at you. You squawk in surprise, tripping over yourself as you try to keep up with her.

**

A while later, you and Carol were in the kitchen. You sipping tea, and her going through a bag a pretzels.

"So," she hedges, "you knew Nick?"

You huff a laugh, "Sure, not enough to openly call him by his first name to his face," a fond smile spreads across your face. "After New York, he wanted me to work under Maria - train and learn from her - in D.C."

"And, did you?" Carol perches herself on the counter top, another pretzel crunching in her mouth.

"Nah, turned him down," you laugh. "I don't think Fury ever heard the word 'no' before."

You both share a laugh.

"I've been meaning to ask," you set your cup down, leaning your arms on the counter next to where Carol sits. "How come I've never felt you before? Until now, that is."

Carol hums, thinking for a long moment, she studies you, eyes searching for something you aren't sure of.

"Maybe we were too far apart. I could feel it as soon as we entered the solar system."

After another long moment, you fidget with your now empty tea cup in your hands. "do you ever feel like you aren't enough? Even with these powers?" your voice is small and quiet, unsure. And when you glance back up, Carol just smiles.

"At first, maybe. When I was with the Kree and lost my memories of home and the people I cared about. Then I Remembered," there's a fire in her eyes as she talks to you, it burns bright the more she speaks. "There's people that care about me, that can't fight. So I have to."

You try to suppress the emotions that want to bubble out of you, but you can't fight back the few tears that blur your vision before you blink them away. You swallow around the lump in your throat. Give her a grateful smile and a nod.

Maybe that's all you really needed to hear. Reassurance.

You know you're more than capable of fighting and protecting others, but sometimes it's nice to hear. That you can do it. It's all worth it. It makes your chest warm, your lungs don't constrict with the anxiety of letting your friends down anymore.

Carol steers you out of the kitchen, her touch leaves you when you follow her, "Let's find the others, they're probably worried about you."

**

"…Missed your sense of humor, Rodent," you hear Tony's sarcastic comment as you and Carol near the garage.

"The Flark you do," Rocket snarks back.

"I know you missed me, it's ok, you can say it."

Rocket spies the two of you before Tony does, his ears perk up and he puts his tools down. "Oh, about damn time! Can we go now? Terrans are so primitive, I literally wanna rip my fur out," he groans.

Tony grabs his chest, mocking hurt, "Ow, you wound me, Rocket. I thought we had something."

Rocker snickers, a toothy grin on his muzzle. "Flark you, Stark." But he makes no move to leave like he said he wanted to.

"Ms Y/N," FRIDAY calls over head.

"Hey FRIDAY. What is is?" There's a pause, and your eyebrows scrunch in confusion. You share a look with Tony.

"Fri?"

"Ms Y?N. Captain Rogers is looking for you. He's in his room."

"Ok, thanks, FRIDAY," you wave to everyone around the room before you leave.

As you near Steve's room on the other side of the compound, you can hear things being moved - heavy things. Frantic movement, things being thrown against a wall.

"Steve?" you call as you near the door. Its ajar enough for you to see inside a little, you push the door open more so you can step inside. There's shuffling and mumbling. You call out for him again, and step into Steve's room.

It's a mess, furniture upturned, papers everywhere. His bed sheets are in a tangle on the bed - messy and wrinkled.

Steve is standing in the middle of the room, the bathroom door is open, steam still curling out of it. HIs back is to you, bare chest and feet, low hanging sweatpants on his hips.

He's panting, chest heaving in ragged breaths, hands clenching tight and releasing at his side.

You call out to him again, but he doesn't seem to hear you. You place a hand on his back, the muscles under your hand tense, he whips his head around so fast you think you heard it crack.

His eyes are wild, stormy blue and so deep, bloodshot with dark circles underneath. His nostrils flared, chest heaving. But then his eyes refocus, he blinks long and hard, and notices you. Steve lets out a shuddering breath, his eyes glaze over and he reaches for you.

"Yo-you're here," its rough and raw, he has to swallow against the tightness in his throat as his large hands grasp onto you. His arms wrap around your middle and he hoists you up and your wrap your arms around his neck. He tucks his face in your neck and takes big, deep breaths. A satisfied hum vibrates through him.

You run your fingers through his hair and your legs lock around his waist. One of his hands cup the back of your neck to keep you there.

After several minutes go by, you place a hand on Steve's cheek, urging him to look at you. He peeks up, barely leaving the spot he was previous.

"Are you ok?" you ask softly. "Do you want to sit down?" Instead of answering, Steve carries you over to his bed, kicking the door shut with is foot before he sits. He pulls you along as he rests his back on the headboard and tugs you tighter in his lap.

"I'm here, Steve. I'm not going anywhere," you mumble into his hair. His arms cling tighter in response.

"I-I had the briefest moment where I thought - thought it was all a dream. And you were still gone." He mumbles into you skin, nose running along the column of your throat. Your fingers grip tighter in his hair, pulling him back to look at you all the way.

There's a small whimper that gets stuck in his throat, his pleading eyes search your face. You're not sure what's going through his mind.

You lower your face to his, lips ghosting over his, a smile pulling at the corner of your lips as he inhales sharply.

"Let me show you that I'm right here," your fingers run across his cheek, Steve's eyes flutter closed and his breath stutters out of his lungs.

"H-how?" he whispers. You grind your hips down to emphasize your meaning. His fingers grip you tighter, he goes to move his lips closer to yours, but you pull back, only slightly.

"Will you let me show you, Stevie baby?"

"Yes," he whispers again. "show me." You kiss him, deep and raw. Like you want to consume him, body and soul. He moans into your mouth and you swallow it whole. When you tug his hair again, he gasps, you plunge your tongue in his mouth, he tastes like cinnamon toothpaste. And he chases your lips when you pull away.

In the early morning, when the suns rays were finally peeking through the blinds, you stirred a little. Something feather light running up your bare spine, it pulls you from consciousness. You him, turning your head into the warmth beside you. There's another groggy hum that leaves you, followed by a low rumble of a chuckle.

You peek an eye open to see Steve awake, his fingers running up and down your back. "It's way too early for you to be this awake," you curl into him more, swatting his hand away. Steve chuckles again, pulling you tighter against his bare chest.

"Y'know… Tony told me you had a beard," you hum. Your lips kiss up his chest, Steve groans in exasperation. "You should grow it back," you smile into his skin. Steve groans again, his head falling back into the pillow, you shake with laughter, but he smiles despite his attempts not to.

**

Weeks go by, months, you've finally adjusted to being back in your time. It was different at first, trying to navigate life with technology you had to live without in the '40s.

But, it was like riding a bike. That's what Tony had said, anyway.

Everyone went back to their normal lives. You had fallen into a routine of helping Nat with the goings-on around the compound. Sitting in on holo-com meetings with Rocket, Carol, and Nebula. The three of them kept you and Nat appraised of the news in Space. Nothing that either of you could do from Earth, though. But it made Nat fee better knowing everything.

The other part of your routine was spending time with Steve, the two of you growing closer, loving each other. Most nights you'd spend in his apartment, some nights he'd stay at the compound. But the nights at the compound where few and far between.

Steve likes to say it's just easier for you, because you can portal to him in an instant.

One afternoon, your StarkPhone vibrates, a message from Tony asking if you're around, and when you tell him yes, he very casually asks you to come by the cabin. You put your shoes on and Portal, no ones around the compound today, and FRIDAY can forward all holo-coms to your phone - just in case.

You step through your portal, the gravel of Tony's driveway crunches under your feet. You can see the garden on the side of the house. A shed that looked too out of place to be just a normal shed.

As you ascend the porch steps, you hear the screen door slap closed, quick footfalls running in your direction. Then a squeal of laughing as she turns the corner, you kneel down just as Morgan launches herself at you. You laugh as she squeezes you around the neck. Your eyes snap up to approaching footsteps, Tony stands casually with his hands in his pockets.

"Pwincess Charlie!" She adjusts herself in your arms as you stand, one arm around your neck as she pointed to Tony. "Daddy never tolded me you were coming. Will you play with me?" Her large brown eyes turn to you and you smile.

"Later, pumpkin. Auntie and I have some grown-up things to do first," Tony raises and eyebrow when Morgan pouts.

"Promise we can play before I leave, ok?" Morgan seems to find that suitable enough, and she shimmies out of your hold and runs back inside.

Tony stars at you for another moment, a small smile on his lips, "You're really good with her, Y/N."

You scoff, "She's the best, it's not that hard." You push him back towards the door, "Ok, Old Man, what did you want to show me?"

Tony leads you to his study, he walks around his desk and places his hands on a large box. His fingers drum against the cardboard for a second before he heaves a large sigh, then pushes the box across the desk towards you.

You arch and eyebrow, "What's in the box?" Tony shakes his head, a scoff leaving his lips.

"Certainly not the worst thing you can think of," he motions toward it again. An uncomfortable noise leaving his throat.

"Tony…"

"Just- please. Open it."

Inside the box are a bunch of papers. Folders stacked sideways with worm out notebooks -no, journals. There's an envelope with your name on it. It's stuffed to the brim. You run your fingers over the lettering, your breath catches.

"It's - oh," when you flip the envelope over, there's an H under the seal. You glance up at Tony, his brows are drawn close, a half grimace on his lips.

"Only read one of two, they're from dad," he clears his throat. "didn't feel right reading them. He wrote to you. A lot. Birthdays, holidays, every day in between. The, uh - The day he died."

You eyes burn, and the tears well up. "Thought you didn't read many of them," you try to tease.

Tony slides a piece of paper to you, "He wrote me. Just one, and it was about you, too." You feel overwhelmed. Your chest aches. You missed Howie so much. But this, this is too much. You still reach out and read Howard's letter to Tony. You feel almost sick.

"God, yo- you must hate me, Tony…" you whisper.

"What? No! Of course not - Y/N- "he stumbles over his words as he comes around his desk to hug you.

"Why…?" you mumble into his chest. "If I were you, I'd hate me. It's my fault Howie was the way he was. To you. Your mom… If I had only listened - maybe-"

Tony pulls you back by your shoulders, and gives you a small shake, "No, Dad was dad. He drank and he was mean. He didn't drink and he was still an asshole. The only time he was ever anything different was in front of a crowd or those old reels from the '60s. He loved my mother, he just couldn't look at me and-" Tony shakes his head a little.

"Still," you say. You shrug your shoulders.

"Things happened. There's no going back. We can't change the past, honey. Them's the breaks."

You glance at the box again, "did you read my journals?" Tony takes his hands from you and rubs them together. "Tony…?"

"Uh- well," he clears his throat again. "To be fair, I thought you were dead?"

A heat of embarrassment crawls up your chest. A whine leaves you. "To-o-onyyy!"

**

You spend the rest of the afternoon at Tony's. Going through old photos Howard had taken with the camera you bought him. One or two old reels from the '60s no one has ever seen. One was to Tony, he told you about how it saved his life with a new element for his Arc Reactor.

The second reel was about you.

The room, Howard's office, you assumed. Was dark, the only light was the one on his desk. The camera was unfocused, staring off into the distance over Howard's shoulder. He's hunched over some papers on his desk, his hand skims down a few lines, the other holds a cigarette between his fingers as his thumb runs at his forehead.

He exhales a large cloud of smoke, it billows out onto the desk and around him. He then tosses the papers aside and leans back in his chair. He looks tired, dark circles and bags under his eyes. There's a knock off screen and Howard grunts.

"Mr. Stark, your wife is on line 3," a woman says quietly.

He hums, placing the cigarette between his lips, "Thanks, Helen. You can head out for the night." She gives a quiet thanks and Howard takes a deep inhale, then the click of a phone. "Honey," he greets and lets the smoke out through his nose. There's some shuffling of papers before Howard stands, the cigarette still in his mouth.

"No, no, you're right," Howard chuckles. "Of course, you're always right. Maria - " he stops. One last drag of his cigarette before he snubs it out. "You know what today is - yes I get it." Howard scrubs a hand down his face and sits on the edge of his desk. He picks up his glass next, downs the liquor contents in one swift gulp. He kisses his teeth, a grunt of disapproval leaves his throat.

"Not this again. I told you I don't like to be at that house around this time of —"

He stops again, a click of a case, another cigarette between his lips before the flick of a lighter ignites it.

"My sister was my whole world, honey — God knows I love you, but please, just allow me two days a year to feel like shit. Please —" Howard inhales deep from his cigarette, then exhales after a second.

He's quiet for a long moment, you assume to listen to Maria talk.

"No - no, don't call Peggy. Ugh, I already get an earful during the week. I don't need it today."

Howard stands, twisting around like he wants to pace his office. His eyes scan around until they fall on the camera. He must notice it's still filming. He swallows thickly, then places the cigarette in his mouth again.

"Oh, yes, darling. - I'll call Peggy tomorrow. No- I'll be home in a few hours. - Yes, alright," Howard hums a goodbye and hands up.

He then moves around his desk, the camera lens finally focuses on him as he sits on the edge. He's silent for a moment.

"I think I've written you a few dozen letters over the years, kid," he chuckles humorlessly, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"When did he start smoking?" you ask Tony. Tony just shrugs.

"Picked it up a few years ago," Howard seems to answer. He rolls it between his fingers. Carelessly flicking the ash onto the carpeted floor. "I know what you're gona say - don't think I don't know. Sure, they might kill me, but we both know that's not true-"

"Howard!" you screech.

Howard raises his hands in mock surrender. A bitter laugh leaving his lips. "Alright, that was too much," he shrugs.

"You're a mess…"

"You know he can't -"

Your eyes glass over as you stare at the grainy film.

His eyes come back to the camera. His hand rakes through his short graying hair, "yeah… you're right," he huffs out a cloud of smoke.

"He can't, huh?"

"Sometimes," he chuckles again, "Sometimes I talk to you. Maria thinks I'm crazy. So does Peg. Shit, maybe I am…"

It's quiet for awhile. Howard doesn't move from his percho n the edge of his desk. The cigarette between his finger tips smokes slowly, he picks at his lip with his teeth.

"That might be it, Y/N. We can turn it off."

"No, wait," you inhale a deep breath, waiting.

Howard's eyes look into the camera lens. And you think he can almost see you, there's a small smirk on his lips. "I love you, kid. Don't think I've ever said so to your face. But I do. Love you, Y/N."

You sniffle, Tony's hand covers yours and you cling to him to him like a lifeline. "Love you, too, Howie."

There's a wet laugh that comes from Howard, he scrubs a hand down his face and inhales the tears that burn at his eyes. He smiles, then. He moves toward the camera, "See you later, kid," and the film shuts off.

It's silent in Tony's study for a long while. It's quiet, but not lonely. You can feel the love in the room. from Howard, from Tony. You lean your head on his shoulder and the two of you enjoy just being present.

**

A year goes by faster than a blink of an eye, you've moved into Steve's apartment in the city. It's quiet in the city. Less cars, less people.

The once busy streets of New York are almost laughably barren. The people that were once here, either moved away or were Dusted.

"You should come today, doll," Steve calls from the kitchen. When you don't respond he finds you on the ouch, the book you were reading open on your chest, brows furred and a frown on your lips. "Doll face?" Steve calls your name again, this time pulling you out of your daze.

"Hmm? What'd you say?"

"I asked if you wanted to come to the session today," Steve leans over the couch, placing his palm on your cheek. It's warm and you nuzzle into it.

"Promised Tash I'd drop by before heading to Tony's," Steve runs his thumb over your cheek, and sighs as he straightens up. He takes a step back, arms crossed tight over his chest. "Skip the meeting today, come with me," you plead. "Morgan would love to see you."

"You know I can't," he shakes his head. You sit up and lean of the back of the couch, reaching for him. But he steps back again, out of reach.

"Steve, they can miss you for one day. C'mon -"

"Forget it. Have fun with Tony."

"What - that's not. Hey!-" Steve turns to leave, you portal in front of him, hand on his chest to stop his retreat. "Talk to me, Tough Guy."

There's a storm brewing in his eyes, his nostrils flare as he stares down at you. His hand comes up to cover yours on his chest. "For once, I want you to choose me." He says low, voice dropping to the space between you. His hand travels to your wrist, gripping it and moving your hand off him so he can step around you.

As he walks around you back towards the kitchen, you follow him. "I did choose you. I chose you when I got back here. I love you, Steve."

He scoffs, "you only chose me because -" he stops. A sharp inhale and he turns away again.

"No, say it. I wanna hear it," you stop on the other side of the island from him.

"You're only with me. Because Bucky is dead," he says bluntly. And it stings more than you think it would.

"Being with you is always like waiting for the other shoe to drop," you mumble. "You're here, but you're never present. At least not with me," your confidence wavers, voice going soft and cracked towards the end. "Maybe I want you to choose me first. For once, Steve. I'm always the last person in your list of everything else in your life. We may life together, but you're just going through the motions. Do you - do you even want to be with me?"

When you glance back up at Steve, he can't meet your eye, you click your tongue. "I'll be here, Steve. Whenever you're ready to actually talk to me and not a support group. We lost people, too. Just remember I'm right here."

You portal away, stepping back and then you're at the compound.

You find Nat in the kitchen, making lunch. She turns her head to see you over her shoulder.

"Hey, stranger," she greets. "made you a PB&J," she points to the plate with the sandwich on it. You mutter a thanks and follower her to her office.

Nat studies you for a moment, her green eyes searching your features. "what did he do now?"

You sigh, picking at the bread, "He said I never pick him. Over everyone else. He's never my top priority."

Nat's face scrunches as she takes a bit of her sandwich, "But you moved in with him. Instead of of staying here. And it's not like you two need jobs - cause Tony owns the building. You're always around each other."

You hum.

"And I only see you on the weekends. He has you the other five days."

You scoff, "You make it sound like you're sharing custody," you roll your eyes.

"Nah," Tony won that custody battle the minute you reappeared back in this time," she tries to joke.

You glance away from her, picking at the bread of your sandwich.

"Oh. It's about Tony, isn't it?" Nat sighs when you let out a hum. "Don't think too much about it, Y/N. Steve's always been jealous of your relationship with Tony."

"That doesn't make it better!" You slump back in your chair with a huff. "Tony and I are just friends. He's married with a kid. I love him like family - its -"

"Complicated?"

"No, not really. I - I'm in love with Steve. But sometimes, I don't know," your voice goes soft. "I feel like he's never really here with me. That his mind is somewhere else and he won't let me in." You look back at Nat, her smile is encouraging, and a little sympathetic. "Does that make sense?"

Natasha hums around her sandwich, and puts it down as she finishes chewing before she speaks.

"I think - Do you wanna know what I think?" you nod. "He's restless, or his body doesn't know he can just stop. We've all been constantly on the go since the alien invasion back in New York. To Ultron, and then Thanos. The treats were getting bigger and badder and we never stopped."

Nat waits, for just a moment, "Maybe I've never stopped either. I'm still here, listening to the world's - the universe's problems." She shakes her head, "I think it's just a distraction -"

"From not thinking about what we've all lost…"

"…Yeah."

You're both quiet as you finish you lunch. The both of you content with just being there for each other. No matter how that is.

You give Nat a hug before you go, a long squeezing hug, like you don't ever want to let her go. Not yet.

"Let me know if someone needs saving, ok?" You tease.

"Yeah, yeah. Tell the troublemaker I said hi, and Morgan too."

You laugh as you step back into a portal. Then the crunch of gravel under your feet as Tony's cabin comes into view.

Tony and Morgan are in the yard, she sees you fist - like always. Her face lights up with a huge grin, its magnetic. The hold this little girl has on you. You'd burn the world to the ground, all for Morgan H. Stark.

She wiggles out of Tony's arms, and skips toward you, "Princess Charlie!" she launches herself into your arms with a squeal. You laugh and twirl her around.

"Hello, Lady Morgan," you peck her on the cheek.

"Auntie," Tony greets with a smirk as he makes his way over. His brows scrunch as he eyes you. "What's the matter?"

You hate that he can tell when something is bothering you, or you're upset. Howard could tell, too. Maybe it was a Stark thing.

"Nothing for you to worry about," Morgan maneuvers herself so she's on your back, hands and feet hugging you like a koala bear.

Tony grunts, skeptical of your answer, he just shrugs and motions for you to follow him back inside.

The rest of the day is spent at Tony's. You help pepper make dinner, and play with Morgan until Tony and Pepper tuck her in for the night. The three of you share drinks out on the porch well into the night.

It's peaceful here. It's quiet here. Like this is where Tony was always meant to be. Him and Pepper cuddling on the porch swing while they look out onto the lake in the backyard. You don't feel like an intruder, not anymore. You feel like part of their small family, like you matter just as much to Morgan, too.

"I'm gonna head out," you say as you stand from the steps. "Thanks for today." You stretch your arms above your head.

"Are you sure? The guest room is there, if you wanted to stay," Pepper says around a yawn. You shake your head, and hug her when she stands to say goodbye. Pepper kisses Tony on the cheek before she bids you both goodnight.

Tony motions with his head to the side, "C'mon, I'll walk you out." He leads you around the porch to the front yard. It's quiet. Only a few crickets break the silence, an owl hoot far in the distance.

But it's so damn quiet.

As you stand side-by-side next to Tony, he lets out a heavy breath, he glances at you a few times before he speaks. "You gonna tell me what's wrong?" he says quietly. When you don't answer right away, he says your name. Pleading for you to just open up.

It takes you a minute, another sigh leaving your lips. "Steve and I had a…disagreement. It'll sort itself out. Don't worry."

Tony turns to face you, "I'll always worry about you, kid," and it's soft and meaningful. You know he means it.

"I know, but you don't have to, Tony," you shrug.

"Yeah. Doesn't mean I still won't worry. It's in the job description," he smiles when you playfully shove him away. "Come by tomorrow, yeah?"

You hum, "We'll see." It's something you've both been saying since you got back. But you always see him the next day, even if it's for a little while.

Tony pecks you on the forehead before he bids you goodnight. "Love ya, kiddo."

"Night, love you, too," and then you portal back to Steve's and your apartment.

It's dim, the only light on is the stove light. It's quiet here, too.

You call out for him, the only answer is your heavy sigh as you make your way to the bedroom. It's empty. Maybe he needed space. Or he's out running to let off steam.

There's no note where he usually leaves one, so you send him a text saying you're home, and crawl into bed.

**

tags: @valckenaux ; @yunloyal

[galiifreyrose]

Never thought I'd be here making a post about how to get involved in local government, but here we are.

If you're anything like me, you're overwhelmed, exhausted, and anxious beyond all reason about America. The question I've been trying to ask myself is: what can I, a full-time engineer, actually get done with the minimal time and spoons I have to offer?

First - Set up a specific email for ALL traffic on the state of the world. I have a dedicated inbox that I only open when I have carved out time to deal with the circumstances.

Second - The absolute single biggest thing I recommend is subscribing to GovTrack.us (direct link).

Once logged in, I subscribed to all of their analysis items (i.e. legislative recap, commentary, etc) as well as (more importantly) setting up the tracker lists to follow my House and Senate representatives.

The reason I commend this so highly is that, rather than having to figure out what the hell is going on, these guys just tell me exactly how my representatives are voting on everything, so if I disagree with something, I know WHAT to call ABOUT.

Here's an example of what I get in my inbox (my reps blacked out for privacy). All of the red text are links to GOV webpages that have the details of the bill/motion/event so you can read more.

This ALONE has made me so much more informed about what's going on. Subscribing to these representatives too, and their mailing lists, has also been helpful.

Third - I cancelled my Amazon Prime subscription and routed that same $10 a month I was already spending to the ACLU. Why? They're the folks that are actively suing the administration to do something about this, and they need funding to do that. We've all seen that the courts are the most effective, if only way to take action right now.

Since I started supporting my local chapter, I get emails every few days with direct links to pre-written messages I can send to my representatives, like the one below.

The "act now" isn't a petition - it's an automated system that emails your representatives (and I know it works, because I've gotten emails back from their offices).

There's a lot more I want to do. I'm trying to get involved in local environmental advocacy programs, and want to reach out to the federal lands most urgently impacted by layoffs and lease cancellations. But this is a start.

[winterspiderpurrs]

They had been in the air for about 5 minutes when Bruce called Tony.

" You have to come back or drop Spiderman off. I need him back in the lab"

Tony made a face and turned to face Spiderman who was currently telling Natasha a story about the latest cat heist a true one cause the guys were trying to rob a cat cafe.

" No can do Brucie bear. We got most of the team here so we should be back in a few hours. Worst case late tonight."

" He can't be out there right now. I ran his labs. Either turn around, drop him off, or he sits on the jet til the mission is done"

Tony moves the call to play out in the jet so everyone could hear and respond.

" Hey Spidey, Bruce said you have to seat this one out."

" What? No way! I'm already here! Why?"

" See? He is fine nothing out of sorts."

" HE'S PREGNANT"

Tony drops his phone, everyone turns to stare at Spiderman who went to cover his stomach with his hands.

" But I'm on birth control! I... Dr. Banner you give me a shot every month."

" I know, but when we ran your labs today to make sure your meds would be still effected with your metabolism for when your injured ... the blood work reflects that your pregnant"

"Oh my god..."

Everyone was silent for a moment.

" Friday. Turn us around, we got a spider we need to drop off."

By now Spiderman is pacing around, Natasha and Clint are having a silent conversation with their stares.

Sam sits up a little in his seat.

" So... if this wasn't planned. You know who the Dad is?"

" Wilson!"

" What? I'm just saying what everyone is thinking. As far as we knew Spidey was single and yeah omega rights but secret identity. "

Tony frowns at Sam and then turns to look at Spiderman.

" Do any of your partners know you spiderman?"

" That's none of your business Stark" said Natasha

" Oh my god. I've only been with one person and yes they know I'm Spiderman!"

" Wow so 1st time and your pregnant?'

" Clint!"

" No! We.. I it's complicated but kinda been seeing them for several months... off and on thing for a year... just... fuck!"

A set of doors open around the end of Peter speaking, revealing Steve and Bucky.

" Language Spiderman. Tony why is the jet turning around? When I asked Friday she said medical emergency. What's going on?"

"I feel like this is some type of hipa violation. Can we like not talk about this anymore? Let's just... get me back"

Steve and Bucky glance at each other and then look back out at everyone.

" If this is going to affect the team, everyone needs to be informed."

" The kids pregnant"

" Mr. Stark! Oh my god."

Steve gets a look of confusion on his face.

" Your an omega?"

" Yeah? I thought you knew?"

" Apparently I was never properly informed, was missing that creditical information when asked to bring you into the team. Any explanation Tony?"

" Wasn't important. It's been what 3 years? 1st time this has come up. No big deal."

" No big deal? Tony the risks, are there protocols"

Tony and Steve continue to argue and they miss the very quiet.

" Your pregnant?" That comes from Bucky as he moved to stand infont of Spiderman.

Spiderman looks up at Bucky, nodding before he pulls his mask off.

That motion causes Tony and Steve turn to look at him.

" Kid! You didn't need to demask!"

But Peter and Bucky continue to just stare at each other.

" Oh shit" said Sam.

Clint slides a 20 to Natasha.

Tony and Steve start shouting.

[fabbyf1]

*taps on microphone* is anybody still there?

hi besties!

it's... been a while. i have lots of good, valid excuses stuffed up both my sleeves that i could give you about where i've been and why i've been avoiding writing, but i'll spare you the details. the most important thing is that i'm back and i'm finally feeling good about things again.

i have dusted off the old mastermind fic in my google docs, and have made a lot of edits to the timeline for the rest of the fic... and i think we're good to go! we're looking at around 9 chapters (unless i decide to add an epilogue) which means we're halfway there!

i know it's been months since i've updated this story, but i promise it's not dead. chapter 5 is officially in the works. and since it's been a few months... as a reminder, in the last chapter The Smut™ finally happened and then Charles asked Max if he wanted to meet for padel in the morning.

and we go!

snippet under the cut :)

i hope everyone is having a great weekend! happy oscar pole day!

“How was your birthday?” Rupert asked as they were walking to the sports complex. 

“It was, uhhh...” Max trailed off as they waited to cross the street. “Unexpected.” 

“How so?” 

Max chuckled at his question, looking down at his feet and wondering how he would even begin to explain what happened. There was no way he could just come out and say, well, Rupy, I had a few drinks and fucked Charles Leclerc last night, so he ultimately decided to say nothing at all. 

It was probably for the best that he didn’t kiss and tell. 

When Max didn’t answer, Rupert continued. 

“You must not have gone too hard since you were up at dawn asking me to play padel with you.” 

Max rolled his eyes. “I went hard enough.” 

... so much for not kissing and telling. 

“Is that right?” Rupert mused, laughing at him and not missing the implications of his words. “Got yourself some birthday cardio, did you?” 

Max snorted. “That’s a ridiculous way to put it.” 

“I’m not hearing you deny it.” 

“Yeah, whatever,” Max huffed, grinning as they turned the corner and the sports complex came into sight. His heart did a funny little jump in his chest when he recognized Charles’s black Ferrari parked out front, but he would blame it on being hungover. 

(Even though he wasn’t hungover at all.) 

“Good for you,” Rupert said genuinely, which was an equally ridiculous thing to say after admitting to having birthday sex the night before. “You deserve to let loose now and then. It’s good for your mind and your body. Some studies have shown that having an orgasm releases around a million different endorphins in your brain that—”

“Mate,” Max said, laughing and shaking his head. “I’m begging you not to finish that sentence.”

[minho-hoho]

The Baby Project

GENRE fluff, best friends to lovers PAIRING bff!Riki x gn!reader WARNING cursing REQUESTED yes, 400 followers event WC 0.75k NOTE we're going on strong, hope u enjoy this one too :>

MASTERLIST

“oh. my. god. this baby is from hell!” Riki exclaimed “why doesn't he stop crying for god's sake?” he hissed.

you rushed outside of the bathroom to see what caused Riki to be this agitated. i mean, what could it be this time?

“hey, what's all this commotion about?” you asked him, a mango face mask on your face, slightly annoyed by all the noise while you were trying to have a peaceful skincare routine moment.

“this thing won't stop crying!” he threw hands in the air, clearly exasperated. Riki's brows furrowed together, his lips in light pout that reflected his annoyance.

“and... did you feed him?”

Riki's mouth formed an O before it closed. he scratched the back of his head as his head hung low. maybe he should've thought this one through.

“of course you didn't. i'll do it, don't worry.”

you went ahead and grabbed a bottle to feed the baby. you were used to it by this point. working with Riki was no easy feat, but it was strangely endearing so you didn't mind.

as handled the baby and fed him, Riki closely inspected you and your actions. you were so gentle with the baby despite it not even being real, he couldn't help but think how good of a parent you'd be in the future.

parenting with you was fun. he was happy to be doing the baby project with you. it got him to think about a lot of things, more importantly his growing loving feelings towards you.

it had already been a while since he knew about how much he liked you and how much he wanted to be your boyfriend, but never acted on it, scared to ruin a beautiful blossoming friendship.

but for a few months now, Riki started to seriously think about confessing his feelings to you.

now that you had to do the baby project together, he kept thinking about how nice it would be if you were parents together, if you were to grow your own family. he wasn't too sure about his skills, but he knew that you'd do an amazing job.

and all those sweet thoughts of his made him want to tell his feelings to you even more.

however, he wanted this project to end before confessing, he wasn't going to let a stupid fake baby, in his own words, ruin his awesome confession.

he was snapped back into reality by the sound of your voice calling him.

“earth to Riki?”

“hm?”

“well the baby is asleep now, do you want to go to the arcade now?” you asked, your face mask already off, a cheeky grin on your lips.

“sure! let me just get my stuff first.” he answered, his own smile growing.

finally, the baby project was over, much to Riki's happiness.

but as much as he was happy to be done with the baby project, he now had a confession to make, which he was enthusiastic about but still anxious.

he decided to tell you on the most cliché date at the amusement park. he knew how cliché it was, but it was one of your favourite places, and he wanted it to memorable. and what's better than that than huge amusement park, he thought.

he casually sent you a text message to invite you there, like he usually did, but this time, on his side he was throwing his feet in the air, smiling like an idiot at his phone.

throughout his way to the amusement park, he gave himself multiple pep talks to cheer himself up.

“you got this Riki!” he whispered to himself.

and now you were on the Ferris-wheel, admiring the scenery from up there.

everything he had prepared, he now forgot. he tried to speak but all that came out was blabbering.

“hey, you good?” you asked with a hearty chuckle.

“no. i mean yes! it's just that...” he sighed and closed his eyes, he didn't imagine it to be so hard.

“it's just that what?”

“it's just that i like you! i love you even,” he paused and looked at his feet, “it's been so long since i've felt this way and i'm tired of hiding it, so i'm saying it now.” he couldn't believe what he just said, he wanted to be buried alive, he closed his eyes, not wanting to see your reaction yet.

to say you were surprised was an understatement. you loved him too, and were delighted to hear that he felt the same.

“well um... i can confidently say that i love you too.”

Riki's eyes opened wide hearing you reciprocated his feelings.

“hold onー you do?” you nodded.

“so that means we're dating now?” he asked still not believing you.

“if you want to that it.”

after a few seconds of pure disbelief, he hugged you tight, not letting you breathe. he was too happy to care.

“RELAX. you're crushing my bones right now!” you squealed at him to stop.

“do i look like i care?i love you.”

note. 2. uh yeah, still old asf, sorry, lightly rewriting it so it's clearer but yeah sorry yall for this 😔

[abcd-adventures]

Didn't even remove my eye makeup last night. It's been that kind of week month year. I told my husband I am not leaving the house today. I don't remember a day I've stayed completely at home, but it's time.

Last year, I took over running the March Madness brackets competition at work, so I'm doing that again this year. Do I know ANYTHING about basketball? Nope! But, the coworker who did left, and one of my favorite clients loves March Madness, and I would do pretty much anything for him, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Last year, we started the thing where I made my bracket in front of this client so he and everyone else could know that I made it completely without cheating/copying anyone. It was actually really fun, and my bracket was third last year. That client is having a really rough time right now, but we made my bracket last Wednesday, and I actually had him laughing, and it was the best moment. I made an extra bet with him that if my bracket beats his that I can ask him ANY two questions and he has to answer them honestly. He told me ok because there was no way I was going to win. Well, guess who is ahead by three points!!!! Ha! Although I don't much care about sports, I DO very much enjoy talking shit, so it is way more fun than I thought to run the brackets. I have them all up on a big board out in front of my office and I trash talk everyone when they come by to look at the updates. Makes it totally worth it! :D

I am SO GLAD that B is going back to school tomorrow. He is in a year-round school, and they have two weeks off for Spring Break. It's too long, ya'll. Too long. We took a trip to Big Bend, we had family in town and went to my brother's wedding, he was in camp for a week. It's still too damn long. This child needs school; he needs his school friends. He's driving me crazy! Either that, or we just need more kids on our street--I need to be able to kick him out to play with other kids.