#clearly Wilson is special

[jemichi90]

This got me thinking about the “door” and... Just gonna hijack your post for a bit. You’ll get it back, I promise. ^^”

Since the Forbidden Knowledge cinematic came first, long before all the other animated shorts, people just never questioned the way Wilson was dragged in. But you bring some excellent points here! And now that those other videos exist, it’s obvious that none of the others had to build a door of any kind, no matter when they were pulled in (even long before Wilson was taken, although you could argue that the shadows can ignore time or something). The shadow hands or Maxwell’s shadow puppets could just appear through the floor (or from pieces of paper) and take them the same way Maxwell himself was taken.

Now, as you mentioned, the only other “door” that exists on this side would be the portal that Wagstaff built and we see no connection between that and Maxwell. Max might not even know it exists or how WX and Winona ended up in the Constant...

So what’s up with Wilson having to build a door?

I guess it’s either an entrance like it’s implied to be, or it’s intended as an exit and both us and Wilson are being misled by the implications - which would be typical Klei.

If it’s an exit, that would mean that Maxwell was attempting to build a way out behind Their backs. But as he was still on the Nightmare Throne and They had access to his mind, he’d have to be very sneaky about it (I believe he’s currently doing something similar with Charlie / Them) and go at it with the full intent to drag in another victim to be Their plaything while also reaching his own goal - building the door. So the door became the “bait” and Wilson ended up dragged in as the unfortunate collateral for the exit to be built without Them becoming suspicious. The door was activated, but it served no purpose as an actual entrance and the shadow hands pulled Wilson down through the floor as we’ve seen them do to many other characters.

If it is indeed an entrance though, that also makes Wilson special. Again, no one else needed a gateway to be built. If They wanted someone to the Constant, They took them. So that might imply that Maxwell himself chose Wilson, and since he was “off the list” Max needed to be more creative to get the scientist to the Constant. In that case there must be a very good reason why Maxwell needed Wilson there...

In any case, I really like your headcanons, and seeing how the story is moving forward, I’m positive that Klei has some kind of ending planned - eventually. I would certainly love to see these people return home and get a chance to finally rest and recover from their nightmarish experiences. I’m sure none of their lives can quite “return back to normal” after all that, but at least they have each other as people that share the trauma and understand what the others are going through. Slowly relearning life at home with the support of the other Survivors would be quite the nice ending if you ask me - similar to what you described in the first scenario. And even if they do end up separated, that doesn’t mean they can’t find each other again in this world. ^^

Related to this, I’d like to point out how the intro of the Inevitable musical shows us Maxwell seemingly back at home, surrounded by all those familiar portraits and posters of himself and Charlie (although damaged, so clearly this is after the earthquake), but also trophies that were clearly brought from the Constant; a taxidermy spider, the heads of a Deerclops and a pigman, a Tallbird egg, and even Chester. I’d like to think that this is canon and Maxwell gets to go home - hopefully with everyone else, and his eternity on the Throne and in the Constant become a tale to be shared with whoever might listen.

And with that long addition to your long (but not too long) post, I’m done. I apologize for hijacking it and you can now have it back. Thanks for sharing your art and headcanons / theories, as always! I really like the way you think! ^^

What do you think will happen when all the survivors return home? And Wilson and Webber what will happen to them?

There are many possibilities but I have 2 in mind

LOOOOONG POST

Scenario Number 1

They escape and are transported to Wilson's house since there's the door he built The idea of going separate ways after an eternity working together is. . . Odd and most of them are just not normal anymore, so they build around the area and create a community only for them. Not like Wilson lives near enough society for anyone to notice the weirdos living outside

Wendy goes back with her father tho and they visit every time they can, maybe even move closer. After all, they're all family

(Don't pay attention to the perspective, don't pay attention to the proportions. Just DON'T pay too much attention to the picture, ok? I like how they're all looking at the door like "so that's THE DOOR" Yeah they've probably seen Maxwell's door before but this is THE DOOR, yk?. Also, only 2)? of them were captured through one of those so it must be interesting to look at)

(I say only 2 of them (WX and Winona through Wagstaff's door/portal) because, even tho Wilson build the Door, he was captured through the ground, not the door, like, why even build it? Was it needed to begin with? Is it that there needs to be an active "door" for Maxwell (or Them) to capture people?)

Scenario Number 2 Or "bad ending", if you will

They all go back to the places they were sucked in (Or the nearest place possible since, you know. . . Wicker's library and the Voxola factory. . . )

Wilson is back home, finally free from the place he was tricked more than once, from having to fight for your life every second, from Them who trapped him for who knows how long he's finally free. . . and alone

He lost the family he gained, he choose and loved. Constantly thinking in the poor Monster child. . . HIS child

Weeell that was long enough hahsashaha Hope you enjoyed all that broken english and nonsensical ideas!

For the record, this isn't the first time I've drawn ALL the characters (All the not-DLC Characters (It is my first time drawing Wanda)) Wurt, Wortox and Woodworm are not there cuz they belong to the Constant.

Abigail? Always by Wendy's side <3

Charlie? Consumed by the shadows/Them?

Wagstaff? Somewhere else as always

Wallani, Warbucks etc. ? I don't know, they're not part of DST so. . . I don't care lmao!!

The Codex Umbra? Maxwell has it. . . ~🍪

[buckets-and-trees]

Red, White & True - Prologue

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers (future x curvy Millennial Female!Reader), Pepper Potts Word Count: 1.3k Summary: "There was an idea..." Words at the heart of what brought the Avengers together. Steve Rogers is no longer an Avenger, having retired after The Snap and passed his shield along to Sam Wilson, but Pepper Potts has a new idea to bring Steve back out of retirement - but in a totally different arena.

Content/Warnings: none

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

PROLOGUE

[MAY 1 - Upstate New York]

“You know I’m always happy to come out to the farm,” Steve says, rinsing the last plate and handing it to the strawberry blonde woman so she can dry and put it back on the shelf. “I love to see you and Morgan. But what do you want to talk to me about, Pepper?”

Pepper gives him a tight-lipped smile. “Let’s go to the study,” she answers, and leads the way to the back of the modern but rustic home. She takes a seat on the couch and motions for Steve to sit on the other end.

“I was sitting right here when Tony stood over there,” she nods her head toward a spot in front of Steve, “and told me he figured out the science of time travel.”

Steve’s chest aches at her words. “Pepper…”

She holds up a hand to stop him. “No, don’t apologize. I told him that was amazing and terrifying. Then we sat here together and really talked. He told me he could stop, put a pin in it, that part of him wanted to bury the idea in a lock box at the bottom of the lake. But I reminded him that we were lucky not to have lost each other in the Blip and so many others weren’t.”

She pauses for a moment and looks to the mantle where there’s a small, retired arc reactor on display. Steve waits for her to continue.

“When I started working for him, I had no idea where it would all lead. I certainly didn’t have aspirations to date my boss or become the CEO of Stark Industries. Tony will always be the love of my life, and each day that goes by, each month, each year, I miss him, but the missing hurts less. What’s left is the whisper, the urge of the legacy of everything that’s still here and what I can do with it. I haven’t been idle, but I’ve been trying to ignore my own time travel issue, if you will.”

Steve can hardly hold himself back from scoffing. “The medical research, the humanitarian initiatives, the scientific advances you’re still spearheading, it’s just not really enough if you can’t solve for world peace,” he jokes.

Pepper cocks her head slightly. “The thing is, I have an idea of where I could start on that last one.”

Steve’s eyebrows knit together, and he studies her face. “Okay…” he knew his voice was conveying his curiosity but also his trepidation.

“Stark Industries helps a lot of people, but there are things I can’t help no matter how hard I try there. The world is in a bigger mess than science can help, only so much can be done with humanitarian work, and there’s an area that’s haunting me because I’ve tried to stay out of it for as long as I could, and I just don’t think I can any more, not and still sleep at night.”

“Well, then let’s talk about it. You know I’m here for you, whatever you need. I don’t know how you think I can help, but clearly you’ve got an idea.”

“I know you retired one suit, but I’d like you to think about another.”

“Pep-”

“Not that kind of suit,” she interrupts. “There are still some good, decent people in politics, but money has poisoned so much of what goes on - lobbyists, special interests, politicians needing to fundraise. But I’ve got money. I could fund a campaign.”

Steve frowns. “What exactly are you proposing?”

“I need a candidate, and there’s no one I would trust more than you. I want to finance your campaign to run for President of the United States.”

Steve's eyes widen, and he feels as if the air has been sucked out of the room. His mouth opens and closes, but he can’t think of any initial words to come out. He stands abruptly, his legs carrying him to the large window overlooking the serene lake outside. The late afternoon sun casts a golden glow across the water, creating a stark contrast to the turmoil in his mind.

"President?" he finally manages to croak out, his voice barely above a whisper. He turns back to face Pepper, his brow furrowed deeply. "Pepper, I... I don't know the first thing about running a country. I've been a soldier, an Avenger, but never a politician."

Pepper leans forward, her eyes bright with determination. "That's exactly why you'd be perfect, Steve. You're not entrenched in the political machine. You have a moral compass that's unwavering, and a desire to help those who need it, no matter what.”

“And sometimes I failed.”

“It made you wiser every time.”

Steve plants his hands on his hips and sighs. “Pep, I’m just a kid from Brooklyn who wanted to serve his country.”

Pepper leans forward, her eyes intense and earnest. "And you've done that, Steve. You've served this country in ways most people can't even imagine. Think about what you could do as President. The impact you could have, the changes you could make. You've always fought for what's right, even when it wasn't easy or popular. That's exactly what this country needs right now."

Steve turns back to the window, his mind racing. He thinks of all the battles he's fought, the sacrifices he's made. Could he really make a difference from the Oval Office? Or would the political machine chew him up and spit him out?

"What about my past?" he asks, still facing the lake. "The Accords, going rogue, all of it. It would all come out in a campaign."

He hears Pepper stand and approach him. She places a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Your past is part of what makes you the right person for this, Steve. You've shown that you're willing to stand up for what you believe in, even when it costs you everything.”

He can feel Pepper's eyes on him, waiting for a response. He takes a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts.

"I appreciate your faith in me, Pepper. I really do," he begins, still facing the lake. "But this isn't like leading a team into battle. The complexities of running a country, the constant scrutiny, the compromises you have to make... I'm not sure I'm cut out for that."

"Steve, that's exactly why you'd be perfect for this. You understand the weight of responsibility. You've made tough decisions under pressure. And most importantly, you have a clear vision of what's right and what's wrong."

Steve turns to face her, his expression conflicted.

“I won’t lie to you,” she continues, “the public scrutiny will be worse, but it’s not something you’re unfamiliar with. Just like before, you’ll have people singing your praise and people ready to crucify you just for sport. But we’ll face it head-on. You won’t do any of it alone. We’ll put together a team of friends, people we trust, experts and strategists. We’ll find people outside our camp who will challenge us to make the campaign stronger. And when we get you in the White House, no president leads alone. You have a history of seeing the value in the people around you and bringing teams together. It’ll just be fighting a different fight.”

Steve thinks over her words. “In a different suit.”

She smiles. “You’ll do it?”

“Answer one more question for me.”

Pepper nods. “Anything.”

“Why do this?”

Steve sees the conviction settle in her entire demeanor, and that shift alone convinces him the rest of the way, but her words cement his resolve down to his core.

“Tony and Natasha didn’t sacrifice just to leave something broken behind. It’s time to help put things back together and try to leave a legacy of something better.”

go to chapter one: MANHATTAN & BROOKLYN

This is an idea that sparked in during the huge sleepover I hosted in July 2023, and it's been tantalizing me for a long time, but now the muse is finally ready to play with it! gee, I wonder why...

I can't wait to bring you along for the ride! This story will have 3-4 chapters, depending on where I split up the narrative. I anticipate about a chapter a week.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[darknight3904]

𝘔𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘩

𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘏𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘞𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘏𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯.

𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘭 & 𝘞𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘦 (2024).

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘖𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘓𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵.

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘝𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦.

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 2.1 𝘬

𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 / 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 / 𝘔𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

This is the alternative version of Ghostbusters. I couldn't decide which I liked more so I'm posting both...

Special thanks to @marifilue and @n4muqr for requesting a Halloween-themed one-shot.

Wade Wilson was having a wonderful day. He'd woken up with Vanessa beside him, Mary at his feet, and Al had even made him a cup of coffee.

Of course, all good things couldn't last forever and now he was in Spirit Halloween with three of the most boring people on Earth.

"You guys can't just sit Halloween out." Wade sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose

"Why not?" Logan sighs

"Because it's your first one in a new universe and since you're all my friends you have a standard to uphold," Wade says

"I thought we were just going to stay inside and watch scary movies," Laura said

"God what a snooze fest you three are." Wade groaned in Laura's face before turning to the couple in front of him, "You two finally got together and you're telling me you don't want to have a couples costume? Seriously? It's been two full stories, plus a few extra parts and no costumes? The readers are going to be so sad!"

He watches you and Logan exchange a long look before opening your mouths again, "No."

"God it's like Ebenezer Scrooge but for Halloween!" Wade leans forward and shakes Logan by the shoulders "Do you know how important Halloween is?"

"Baby, maybe you should just accept that they don't want to dress up. You guys have both had your fair share of holidays I'm sure right?" Vanessa asks as you nod in agreement.

Logan growls and pushes Wade's hands from him, mumbling a fuck off as he watches You and Laura go to look at the giant animatronics the store has.

"In the words of my queen, Cady Herron, Halloween is the one night a year when a girl can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it."

Logan looks over at Wade like he's lost it. Maybe he has, quoting Mean Girls to a man who is pushing 200.

"Are you picking up what I'm putting down?" Wade grins

"No. I don't even know a Cady." Logan sighs tiredly as Vanessa laughs at him

"Trust me, it'll be worth it if you convince your lady to dress up. I'm talking about the skimpiest costumes to ever exist. Have you looked at the women's section here? Barely clothes. Trust me, you'll love it." Wade pats his back

"And what are you going as?" Logan asks, his voice full of doubt

"Batman." Wade smiles, "And Vanessa here isgoing as Cat Woman. She's got the latex suit and everything. I'm so excited!"

Logan groans next to him, clearly not interested in Wade's fantasies as the annoying man pulls Vanessa in for a hug.

"If you want to dress up, you can. Don't let Logan and I stop you." You say, thinking of the past 70 years, "We've both had enough Halloweens in our lifetimes."

"I dunno...What would I even go as?" Laura says hesitantly glancing around the many costumes that sit on the racks

"Anything you want." You say looking to your right where a sexy "nun" stares back.

Laura looks between you and the costume like you're crazy.

"Okay, within reason." You laugh, "No sexy nuns this year."

You follow Laura around the store as she combs over the vast selection the store has. You're pretty sure Wade has dragged you into the biggest Spirit Halloween there was.

"What about this one?" Laura asks, her hands landing on one costume

"Hey, that's a great choice," Vanessa says, catching up to the two of you.

"Perfect." You nod in approval

"Can I get one of those fake knives that has the blood in it?" Laura asks eagerly, looking at you and then up at Logan.

Logan heaves a sigh but nods anyway and watches as Laura dashes off with Wade hot on her heels, dragging Vanessa with him as he chants something about being movie-accurate.

"Ghost Face?" Logan asked you hesitantly

"Hey, she can be Ghost Face all she wants. Just be glad she didn't pick the sexy nun or the hottie nurse one." You laugh

"She'd be leaving costumeless if she asked for anything like that." Logan chuckles

Your eyes widen as Laura pulls a sword half the size of her body out of a bin.

"I don't think he had a sword in the movie," Logan says

"Laura check this one out!" Wade exclaims as Vanessa turns away from her boyfriend and pretends she doesn't know him, he swings a large foam bat with fake wire on it, "Call me JDM the way I'm about to go Negan on everyone!"

You look over a few more costumes with Logan, not intending to buy anything but, some of them were just too funny not to look at. Seriously, were people actually walking around as an inflatable banana?

"Listen if you want to dress up, you can," Logan says from his place next to you, "My opinion doesn't matter."

"I don't know what I'd be." You say looking at a giant cookie monster suit

"I meant..." Logan glances around, most likely checking that Wade isn't anywhere near him, "We...We can do a couples costume if you want."

You turn to him in shock. Logan Howlett, The Wolverine, the most stoic man you knew, was suggesting a couple costume for Halloween?

"Are you serious right now?" You laugh

"Well," Logan smiles, wrapping his arms around you from behind, "Wade said there's this big Halloween Party at that nightclub we went to a few weeks back. You need a costume to get in though."

"You just want to drink." You roll your eyes

"Like you don't." Logan pinches your side

"Alright, Alright." You sigh, pushing his arms off you, "What are we going as since you suddenly want to be Mr. Life of the Party."

"Vanessa gave me an idea." Logan smiles, "I think you'll like it. It involves me showing off my biceps."

"I'm in."

You watched as Laura pulled the mask over her face, reluctantly posing for your camera.

"Can I please go?" She groans, oversized machete in hand

"Ok, ok." You say, "But you have to text me when you get back to Brooke's"

"I will," Laura says, tossing her backpack on her shoulders

"Do you have your charger? What about your toothbrush?" You ask as she walks to the door

"I have everything." She says, pulling the door open

"Alright, have fun," You say with a smile

"No boys!" Logan yells loudly from your shared bedroom. A short pause follows before he speaks again, "Or girls! Just...stay away from everyone!"

"I know!" She yells over her shoulder

You watch from the window as Laura gets into Brooke's parent's car and disappears down the road. You had agreed to Laura's pleading to go Trick or Treating and then have a sleepover with her friend from school. Logan had been hesitant but you coaxed him into it reminding she was virtually indestructible.

"Do you think she'll be okay?" You ask Logan who is for some strange reason, still getting dressed. It was nearly 8 and you still needed to go down the road to Wade and Vanessa.

"You're the one who said she'd be fine in the first place." Logan reasons

You push the bedroom door open to see Logan still fiddling with his costume.

"This is ridiculous." He says, "I look ridiculous."

"You're the one who picked it out!" You laugh as you look at him

"I didn't think it'd be this breezy." Logan huffs

Your eyes scan his burly figure. Tonight, the two of you were dressed as Meg and Hercules. A cute purple dress sat on your figure and you had even found some temporary dark purple hair dye for your hair. A strappy pair of heels sit on your feet and your makeup was soft and glittery. As for Logan, he was in a brown and gold Hercules costume.

You had to admit, he looked hot, He always did but there was something about his upper arms and the way they were squeezing out of that cheat costume he had picked.

"Don't you think this is too short?" Logan asks, motioning to the way the skirt portion of Hercules' costume fell to his mid-thigh

"Logan I have skirts shorter than that." You look at him in disbelief

"Yeah but..." Logan sighs, "I feel like my balls are hanging out."

"Oh my god." You run a hand over your face.

"I'm not joking!"

You let the diva...er Logan preen over his appearance some more and disappear into the bathroom to make sure your makeup is just the way you want it. You mess around with your hair, trying to decide on the perfect style, and hear a knock at the door. Expecting Laura or perhaps even Wade, you swipe a bit of lipgloss on and leave the bathroom to find Logan already answering.

"Wow, look at that, it's Hercules!" A woman's voice says

"Trick or Treat!" A chorus of little voices say

You watch, amused as Logan glances around your shared apartment. Neither of you had bothered to buy any candy, expecting to be out of here before the kids showed up. Your eyes widen when Logan grabs apples out of the fruit bowl on the table for the kids.

"Sorry, no candy." He huffs

"Why not?" One child dressed as an astronaut whines when he sees the apples

"I ate it all." Logan deadpans, "That's how I got so big."

You laugh to yourself as Logan flexes for the kids, who are laughing at him.

"But wouldn't that make you fat? Not muscly?" One asks

Your eyes fall on the woman, presumably the mother of the kids. You can tell she doesn't care what Logan hands her kids, hell, he'd probably get away with stealing one right now with the way her eyes were stuck on his arms.

"Alright, apples for everyone." You smile, wrapping your arm around Logan's, shooting a glare at the woman as you let Logan drop the apples into the bags, "Have a good night!"

Logan pushes the door shut and shoots you a knowing look, "Careful, you're going green over there."

"Shut up." You say

"It's nice to know you're jealous." Logan smirks

"Ugh, can you blame me? I can't have some other lady stealing you away." You huff as he pulls you in for a kiss

"Yeah well, with the way you're dressed right now." Logan looks down for a second, clearly trying to peer down your dress

"Perv." You whisper as he captures your lips again

"Just for you." He laughs into the kiss as his hands begin to roam down to your ass, "Wanna call Vanessa? Tell her we can't go?"

"Can't let them down." You say as his hands begin to bunch your dress up, his lips falling to your neck.

Logan sucks a mark into your skin that will surely need to be covered with makeup. You groan as he whispers into your ear, "It'll be more fun stayin' in with me, trust me, darling."

The sound of your front door being slammed open as you jump away from Logan, immediately on alert, your heart pounding.

"I knew it, they were busy making out." Vanessa teases as she and Wade enter

"Don't scratch, Peanut!" Wade says looking down at Logan's claws that have appeared, "Ha! Look at that!"

You glance down to where Wade is pointing at Logan's boner which the costume refuses to hide.

"Peter, or should I say, Vanessa, the horse is here!" Wade snorts a laugh, "What a fucking stallion! Pumpkin, you take that every night?! Gosh it's a miracle you can walk straight, I mean really it's-"

Wade doesn't get to finish as three gleaming silver claws have entered one side of his face and exited the other, "Not another word, you stupid piece of shit."

"Alright, Alright." You say, pulling Logan away from Wade, "You two go on, we'll meet you at the club."

You push Wade and Vanessa out of the apartment as Wade makes another dick joke, much to Logan's dismay.

You spin around as the door shuts and lock it with a flick of your hand. Logan sits on the couch a pillow in his lap as he rubs at his temples.

"Give me a few mintues, bub. We'll get goin' soon." He says not looking at you

"Who said we were going anywhere?" You smile, pushing the pillow off his lap, replacing it with yourself.

Logan gives you a look but doesn't object, resting his hands on your hips. His lips meet yours again, this time with a passion that had you shuddering. Oh, you were definitely going to be sore tomorrow.

Your hands ran over the biceps you loved so much and tugged at the costume, wanting it to disappear. Logan's hands dug into your soft skin, gently grinding you into his now-exposed underwear. Thank god for that stupid skirt.

"Happy Halloween, Logan." You, break the kiss, grinning mischievously

"Happy Halloween, darlin'. "

Next Part

Guys I got struck down by a horrible cold and my period at the same time. 0/10, would not recommend, I am feeling a bit better today so I finished this part up, hope you enjoyed.

Back by popular demand, Ash pictures:

Tags:

@kellyxo1 @mystiquesvendetta @gingerplague

@veru-boom @qardasngan @fandomsunited @reidsworld

@arrozconpepitoria @iamm3 @gigabitemyass @wordacadabra

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@fallout-girl219

@mrs-ephemeral @halepack2011 @insanesosciopath @venusindelusion @wolverines-tits

[samdeancass]

Love Sick Puppy

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff

Characters: Bucky, Y/N, Sam

Description: Y/N and Bucky have been dating for a while but Bucky still acts like a love sick puppy around her.

Bucky smiled goofily at you from across the table, head resting in the palm of his hands as he leaned on his elbows. His eyes were completely blown over with love; there was no talking to him when he got like this. 

Sam leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes. “Y/N, lover boy’s at it again.” You looked up from the book you were currently researching from, a small smile on your face. Getting up from your seat you walked around the table and stopped at the side of Bucky, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“Bucky, baby. You’re doing it again.” He shook his eyes and widened his eyes, sitting up straight in his chair. Clearing his throat, he looked to the side of him and found your eyes staring back at him. “You really need to stop doing that, Buck. If nobody here knew us, they’d think you were a creepy stalker or something.”

He chuckled and brought your hand up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on each knuckle. “I can’t help it doll, you’re just so beautiful.” “Oh please.” Bucky snapped his head towards Sam, his eyes glowering at him. “Got something to say, Wilson?”

Sam leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “Yeah, I got something to say, Barnes. You need to cut that shit out. It’s really unnerving and gross to watch.” Bucky’s hands clenched together as he fought the urge to punch Sam across the face. Noticing this, you shot Sam a warning glare and placed your hands on top of Bucky’s, instantly calming him. 

“I can’t help it, Y/N. I love you so much.” Bucky looked down at his lap, clearly embarrassed.  “Hey, don’t worry about it. You look at me like that all you want. Take no notice of what jerks have to say.” 

Sam threw his hands up in the air. “I’m going out. Don’t wait up.” He stormed out of the room, you chuckling at his reaction. “If I’d of known it was so easy to rile him up, I would have done it ages ago.” Bucky laughed and lifted his hand to your cheek, splaying his fingers out. “I can’t explain why I act the way I do but I do know that I love you with every single part of me, Y/N.”

You slid into his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck. “You don’t ever need to explain yourself to me, Buck. I love that you love to look at me like that. It makes me feel special. It makes me feel so happy that after all this time and all that’s happened, you were still able to find love, to find me. I love you, James Buchanan Barnes.”

He smiled widely, leaning in slowly before attaching his lips to yours and engaging in a slow, loving kiss. His other hand traveled to the small of your back, pulling you closer to him; wanting every part of you to be near him.  Your hands found their way into his hair, pulling slightly at the strands. He let out a low growl and you smiled, knowing exactly what you were doing to him.

“What do you say I show you exactly how much I love you?” Your smile widened as he stood up with you wrapping your legs around his body as he carried you to your shared bedroom. 

Marvel Tags:

@redcoatgirl​

[urdreamydoodles]

MCU Characters x Fem!Reader (Part.2)

They react to your outfit for your date with them (Part.2)

As you step out for a much-anticipated date night, your partner reacts with their unique blend of admiration and protectiveness, captivated by your stunning appearance.

Characters: Marc Spector, Steven Grant, Jake Lockley, Wade Wilson, Logan Howlett, Natasha Romanoff, Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, Wanda Maximoff & Yelena Belova

Marc Spector (Moon Knight)

- Marc is completely caught off guard when he sees you, his usual stoic expression breaking as his eyes widen in surprise. "Holy crap," he mutters under his breath, his gaze glued to you. He’s not used to seeing you like this—dressed to the nines, looking absolutely stunning—and it shows in the way he momentarily freezes, struggling to find the right words. "You look... wow," he finally manages, his voice rough but filled with genuine awe.

- He steps closer, his eyes never leaving yours, and there’s something almost vulnerable in the way he reaches out, his hand resting gently on your arm. "I don’t deserve you," he says quietly, his tone serious, but there’s a softness in his eyes that you don’t see often. Marc doesn’t think of himself as the romantic type, but the way he’s looking at you now makes it clear just how deeply he feels.

- "You sure you want to be seen with me looking like that?" he jokes, though you can tell by the tension in his voice that he’s half-worried he doesn’t measure up to how amazing you look. You reassure him with a smile, and he relaxes slightly, though his gaze remains intense, like he’s trying to memorize every detail of this moment.

- Throughout the night, Marc is more attentive than usual, constantly checking on you, his protective instincts kicking in. He’s still quiet, but there’s a rawness to his affection—little gestures like holding your hand or brushing his fingers against your cheek—that show how much he’s affected by you. And when the night draws to a close, Marc pulls you into a deep, lingering kiss, as if he’s silently thanking you for being there, for choosing him.

Steven Grant (Moon Knight)

- Steven’s reaction is immediate and utterly endearing. The moment you walk into the room, his eyes widen, and his mouth falls open in astonishment. "Blimey!" he exclaims, his British accent making the moment even more charming. He fumbles with his words for a second, trying to gather his thoughts. "You—you look absolutely gorgeous," he says, his cheeks flushing pink as he awkwardly adjusts his tie, clearly flustered by how stunning you are.

- He’s not the type to play it cool, so when he steps toward you, it’s with genuine awe. His hands hover nervously before finally settling on your shoulders. "I feel like I’m in a dream or somethin'," he says, his voice soft and filled with admiration. "Are you sure you’re real?" Steven’s not shy about expressing how incredible he thinks you look—his eyes are practically sparkling with admiration, and the way he’s looking at you makes you feel like the most beautiful person in the world.

- As the two of you head out for the evening, Steven constantly fidgets, clearly nervous but excited to be on a date with someone who, in his mind, is way out of his league. "I—I can’t believe you’re with me tonight," he says with a shy smile, holding the door open for you like the gentleman he is. His nervous energy is contagious, but it’s also heartwarming, making you feel even more special.

- Throughout the night, Steven showers you with compliments, his words always sincere and never forced. "You’re too perfect," he says at one point, his voice full of wonder. He’s completely smitten, and by the time the night is over, Steven’s eyes haven’t left you once. When he finally works up the courage to kiss you goodnight, it’s soft and tentative, but full of affection—the kind of kiss that leaves your heart fluttering.

Jake Lockley (Moon Knight)

- Jake’s reaction is understated but sharp. The second you step into his line of sight, his eyes darken, scanning you from head to toe with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken. He doesn’t say anything at first—he’s not a man of many words, but the way he slowly licks his lips, his head tilting slightly as he takes you in, tells you everything. “Dios mío,” he mutters under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear, his voice rough with restrained admiration.

- Jake doesn’t move right away; instead, he leans back in his seat, taking you in like he’s savoring the moment. When he finally does stand up, it’s slow, deliberate. He walks over to you, his dark eyes locking onto yours, and the way he looks at you feels dangerous—thrilling. “You know what you’re doing, don’t you?” he says with a smirk, his voice low and gravelly. There’s a playful edge to his tone, but beneath it, there’s no mistaking how much he likes what he sees.

- He reaches out, his hand grazing your waist as he pulls you in close, his grip firm yet possessive. “You look too good to be out in public,” he teases, his lips just inches from yours. There’s a fierceness in his eyes, like he’s already calculating how to keep you all to himself for the rest of the night. “Let’s skip the fancy dinner, cariño. I’ve got better plans,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with suggestion, though the glint in his eye lets you know he’s half-joking—half.

- Throughout the night, Jake is more protective than usual, keeping a hand on you at all times, his possessive streak showing in the way he glances at anyone who dares to look at you too long. But when you catch his eye, there’s a warmth there, a silent acknowledgment that even behind his rough edges, he’s completely captivated by you. And by the end of the night, when he pulls you into a deep, heated kiss, it’s clear he’s never letting you go.

Wade Wilson (Deadpool, Fox Universe)

- Wade’s reaction is, unsurprisingly, completely over-the-top. The second he sees you, he lets out a loud, exaggerated wolf whistle. “Hot damn!” he exclaims, his mouth hanging open in mock disbelief. “Did I die and go to heaven? Because, sweetheart, you’re making me look like an amateur!” He struts over to you with a goofy grin on his scarred face, completely unbothered by how ridiculous he looks in comparison to your stunning appearance.

- “You sure you wanna be seen with this?” he gestures to himself dramatically, hands moving over his scarred body. But before you can respond, he’s already spinning you around like you’re on a runway. “Look at you! You’re the perfect combination of sexy and sophisticated. I mean, I might have to make a new fourth wall break just to brag about how hot my partner is.” His antics are ridiculous, but beneath it, there’s genuine affection in his eyes as he gazes at you with awe.

- Wade doesn’t stop with the compliments. He’s constantly throwing out one-liners like, “You’re so hot, even my regenerative healing factor can’t handle it,” and “We’re definitely getting free appetizers tonight just based on your looks alone.” But every now and then, he’ll drop a quieter, more sincere line: “Seriously, though... you look incredible. Like, jaw-droppingly amazing. I’m the luckiest guy ever.”

- Throughout the night, Wade alternates between being his usual, chaotic self—cracking jokes and making a scene—and being surprisingly sweet. He sticks close to you, throwing his arm around your shoulders and stealing kisses whenever he can. And despite the jokes, you can tell he’s genuinely proud to be by your side. At the end of the night, he pulls you in for a long, deep kiss before whispering, “You and me? We’re the hottest power couple in this or any other universe, babe.”

Logan (Wolverine, Fox Universe)

- Logan’s reaction is subtle but unmistakable. When you walk into the room, his brows lift just a fraction, and a low, appreciative growl rumbles from his chest. “Damn,” he mutters, his voice rough and full of that gruff Logan charm. He doesn’t say much else—Logan’s never been one for flowery compliments—but the way his eyes sweep over you, lingering a little longer than usual, tells you all you need to know.

- He walks up to you with that rugged, confident stride of his, his hand reaching out to tug you close by the waist. “You sure you’re dressed for a date with me and not some fancy rich guy?” he teases, his lips quirking into a crooked smirk. But there’s no hiding the admiration in his voice, or the way his gaze softens as he looks at you. “Guess I gotta step up my game tonight,” he adds, a rare playful glint in his eyes.

- Logan might not be overly romantic, but he’s protective. As the night goes on, he keeps a hand on you, always close, always watching. He doesn’t like attention, but he can’t help the small, prideful grin that tugs at his lips when he catches people glancing at you. “They’re all lookin’ at you,” he grumbles at one point, but there’s no jealousy in his tone—just quiet satisfaction that you’re with him, and no one else.

- By the end of the night, Logan pulls you aside, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to your temple. “You know, you’re somethin’ else,” he says, his voice low and gravelly, as his fingers trace lazy circles on your back. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.” There’s something deeper in his tone, a rare moment of vulnerability from the man who’s usually all gruff exteriors. And when he kisses you goodnight, it’s slow, lingering—like he’s savoring every second.

Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow)

- Natasha’s reaction is calm, collected—like everything with her, it’s controlled. But the way her eyes flick over you when she first sees you, her lips curving into a small, approving smile, tells you she’s more than impressed. “You clean up well,” she says smoothly, her voice steady but full of admiration. Natasha’s not one to gush, but the way she’s looking at you feels intimate, like she’s drinking in every detail without needing to say much.

- She approaches you with that confident grace she always has, her movements fluid and precise. “You look beautiful,” she says softly, reaching out to brush her fingers down your arm. It’s a simple gesture, but coming from Natasha, it feels loaded with meaning. She doesn’t waste words, but the sincerity in her compliment hits harder than any grand declaration.

- As the two of you head out for the night, Natasha stays close, her hand resting lightly on your lower back as she guides you through the room. She’s calm, collected, and absolutely in control, but there’s a certain pride in the way she carries herself tonight. You catch her glancing at you out of the corner of her eye, and the small, satisfied smirk that plays on her lips tells you she’s enjoying the attention you’re getting—though, as always, she’ll never let anyone know.

- Throughout the night, Natasha is attentive, always making sure you’re comfortable and subtly complimenting you in her own quiet way. “You’re turning heads,” she whispers in your ear at one point, her tone almost teasing, but there’s warmth there, too. By the end of the evening, when you’re alone, Natasha pulls you close, her fingers tangling in your hair as she leans in for a slow, passionate kiss. “You’re incredible,” she murmurs against your lips, and you know, without a doubt, that she means every word.

Matt Murdock (Daredevil)

- Matt doesn’t need to see you to know how breathtaking you look. The moment you walk into the room, he senses it—the way your perfume mixes with the subtle hum of your heartbeat, and the soft rustle of fabric as you move. “You look... incredible,” he says, his voice low and reverent. The way he speaks makes it clear that he’s picturing every detail in his mind, and there’s a quiet intensity to the way he reaches out for you, his fingers brushing lightly over your arm before settling at your waist.

- When Matt runs his hands along the fabric of your outfit, there’s a softness in his touch, almost like he’s committing the feel of it to memory. “You always have a way of surprising me,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a subtle smile. Even though he can’t see, his senses make up for it—he can feel the way you carry yourself, the confidence radiating off of you. And even though he’s usually calm and composed, you can feel the way his pulse quickens ever so slightly when you’re this close.

- Throughout the night, Matt stays close to you, his hand either resting lightly on your lower back or brushing against your arm. He’s always aware of his surroundings, but tonight, his focus is on you. “You’re making it really hard to concentrate on anything else,” he teases quietly at one point, his voice laced with warmth. There’s a deep admiration in the way he speaks, like he’s always amazed by you, no matter how many times you’ve dressed up for him.

- By the end of the night, when it’s just the two of you, Matt pulls you into a slow, deliberate kiss. “I don’t need to see you to know you’re stunning,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. There’s a tenderness in the way he holds you close, like you’re the most important thing in his world, and it’s clear he’s completely captivated by everything you are.

Frank Castle (The Punisher)

- Frank’s reaction is quiet, but intense. When you step into the room, his eyes lock onto you immediately, and for a moment, he just stares. His brow furrows slightly, not out of confusion, but because he’s trying to process just how damn good you look. “You doin’ this to mess with me?” he finally mutters, his voice low and gravelly, though there’s a hint of admiration in his tone that he can’t quite hide.

- He doesn’t move right away, just stands there, arms crossed, as his eyes roam over every detail of your outfit. Frank’s never been one for flowery compliments, but the way he looks at you—like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you—says more than words ever could. “You’re... somethin’ else,” he says gruffly, scratching the back of his neck like he’s not sure how to handle seeing you like this.

- When he finally walks over to you, his movements are deliberate, his hand sliding around your waist as he pulls you close. “Lookin’ like that, we’re not gonna make it through the night without some trouble,” he mutters, half-joking, but there’s a protective edge to his voice. He’s proud to have you on his arm, but he’s also hyper-aware of how others might look at you—and that protective instinct of his kicks in almost immediately.

- As the night goes on, Frank stays close to you, always keeping an eye on your surroundings. He’s not a man of many words, but he’ll occasionally lean in and murmur something like, “You’re killin’ me with that dress,” or “I’m gonna have a hard time focusin’ on anything but you tonight.” By the end of the evening, when it’s just the two of you, he pulls you into his arms, kissing you with an intensity that leaves no doubt about how much he appreciates you.

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

- Wanda’s reaction is full of warmth and admiration. The moment she sees you, her lips part slightly, and a soft smile spreads across her face. “Wow,” she breathes, her Sokovian accent softening the word as her eyes light up with pure adoration. She doesn’t try to hide how much she’s in awe of you, and she takes a moment to simply drink you in, her head tilting as she steps closer. “You look... absolutely beautiful.”

- Wanda reaches out, her fingers gently brushing against the fabric of your outfit, almost like she’s checking to make sure you’re real. “I knew you’d look amazing, but this... this is something else.” There’s a dreamy quality to her voice, like she’s genuinely stunned by how radiant you look. Her eyes linger on you, full of quiet affection, and you can feel how much she appreciates every little detail you put into dressing up for her.

- Throughout the night, Wanda is always attentive, her hand either intertwined with yours or resting gently on your arm. She’s constantly stealing little glances at you, and each time she does, there’s a look of pure admiration on her face. “You have no idea how lucky I feel to be with you,” she whispers at one point, her voice soft and full of sincerity. There’s a sense of calm and comfort that radiates from her, and being with her feels like being wrapped in a warm, safe embrace.

- By the end of the night, when you’re alone, Wanda pulls you into a gentle, lingering kiss. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how beautiful you are,” she murmurs, her forehead resting against yours as she smiles softly. There’s something magical in the way she holds you, like she’s utterly enchanted by you, and you can feel her love in every touch, every word.

Yelena Belova (Black Widow, Platonic)

- Yelena’s reaction is playful, as always. When she sees you all dressed up, she lets out a dramatic whistle and claps her hands together. “Oh, look at you! Like a supermodel from Vogue!” she exclaims, her voice full of teasing admiration. She circles you with exaggerated flair, like she’s inspecting you. “What’s the occasion? You getting ready to impress some very important people, huh?” she teases, but there’s genuine appreciation in her tone.

- She walks up to you and flicks a piece of your outfit, her eyes narrowing playfully. “Look at this! You put effort into this, didn’t you? Good thing you have me to make sure you don’t trip over those shoes or something,” she says with a smirk, her humor always present. Despite the teasing, Yelena is visibly impressed, and she shows it with her cheeky compliments. “I’m pretty sure heads will turn. If not, I’ll make sure they do!”

- Yelena is a firm believer in boosting you up, and she does it with her own quirky brand of tough love. “Don’t get too used to being all fancy, though. Tomorrow we’ll be back to the tactical suits,” she jokes, nudging you with her elbow. But then she grins, patting your back. “No, seriously—you look amazing. Like, annoyingly amazing.” There’s affection behind her teasing, a silent acknowledgment that she’s proud to have you as her friend.

- As the two of you head out, Yelena sticks by your side, ready to make sure everything goes perfectly. She offers her signature sarcastic commentary throughout the night, but you can feel her warmth behind it all. “If anyone gives you trouble, I’ll handle it,” she says with a wink, half-joking. By the end of the night, she gives you a tight hug. “You clean up good. Next time, you pick the restaurant. I’ll be in charge of not getting us into trouble.”

[awkward-walking-potato]

wade Wilson with an s/o that doesn’t celebrate their own birthday? (bonus points if you make them forget their own birthday because it’s been so long since they ever celebrated it)

Better Than Cake

Wade Wilson never missed an opportunity for a party—especially if it involved ridiculous decorations, food, and cake. But something had been bugging him lately, something about you. No matter how long he’d been with you, he realized he didn’t know your birthday. Not because he hadn’t asked—but because you’d never seemed to care.

Today, Wade was lounging around your shared apartment, wearing his usual red-and-black Deadpool suit, with the mask casually pulled back to rest around his neck. He watched you make breakfast, and a thought crossed his mind.

“Hey, babe,” Wade called, his tone oddly casual for once. “When’s your birthday?”

You paused, turning to look at him with a confused expression. “My… birthday?”

“Yeah, y’know, the day of your miraculous, earth-shattering entrance into this glorious world? The day you were born? It’s kind of a big deal.” Wade grinned, but he was watching your reaction carefully now.

You frowned slightly, thinking about it for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t really celebrate it. Haven’t in… years, honestly. I don’t even remember when the last one was.”

Wade blinked, stunned for a moment. “Wait, hold up. You forgot your own birthday?”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head as you went back to cooking. “I guess I just stopped caring after a while. It’s not a big deal.”

Wade’s grin faded slightly, replaced by an uncharacteristically serious look. “Not a big deal?” he repeated, standing up and walking over to you. “Babe, your birthday is a huge deal. How could you not celebrate it?”

You shrugged again. “I don’t know. I just never thought much of it. After a while, it’s just another day.”

Wade stood there, staring at you like you’d just spoken in another language. “Okay, no. Absolutely not. We’re fixin’ this right now.”

You turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“We are gonna celebrate the hell out of your birthday, no matter when it was,” Wade declared, a determined gleam in his eyes. “If you don’t remember, we’ll pick a day. Hell, we’ll pick today. Today is now officially your birthday. Boom! Done.”

You laughed at his enthusiasm, but before you could protest, Wade had already darted off to grab his phone. “Wade, seriously, you don’t have to—"

“Too late! I’m ordering a cake, decorations, and balloons. Oh! And we’ll need streamers. You can’t have a party without streamers. It’s in the rulebook of fun.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips as you watched him go into full-on planning mode. “Wade, it’s really not necessary—"

“Necessary? No. Fun? Hell yes!” He winked at you before continuing, “Trust me, babe, everyone deserves to feel special on their birthday, and if no one’s done it for you in a while, that just means I’m gonna have to go extra hard.”

It didn’t take long for Wade to throw together a “birthday” celebration. By the afternoon, the apartment was covered in balloons, confetti, and banners that read “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” in obnoxiously bright colors. You had to admit, it was a little overwhelming, but in a strangely heartwarming way.

Wade even managed to get a cake—though he’d clearly taken a bite out of it before he brought it to the table. He stood there, proud of his hastily thrown-together birthday bash, grinning from ear to ear.

“Alright, (Y/N),” Wade said, standing in front of you with the cake in his hands. “Make a wish. And no, you can’t wish for me to stop being so ridiculously handsome.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you blew out the single candle on the cake. “I don’t know what to say, Wade. This is… a lot.”

“Damn right, it is,” Wade replied, setting the cake down and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “But y’know what? You deserve a lot. And if no one else is gonna make a big deal out of your birthday, I’m gonna do it for both of us.”

You smiled softly, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had gone out of their way to make you feel this special. “Thanks, Wade. Really.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “Anytime, babe. Anytime.”

[mysterycitrus]

Hey Greta! I was wondering if you had any thoughts on dick & cass siblingisms. I think they have so much potential as a dynamic but people don’t talk about them all that much. I figured I’d ask since you have immaculate takes on everything👍

oh em gee cass dick siblingisms……. my favourite weirdos! was a big fan of them together (particularly in murderer + fugitive) but also that time she threw him out a window. i think it’s a real shame we pretty much haven’t seen their relationship since gates of gotham 2011 because the potential dynamic there is so interesting.

cass is exactly like bruce -> dick understands bruce better than anyone else -> cass can read anyones intentions and true feelings -> dick is notoriously cagey and hard to read like…. that’s peak ‘no one understands u like ur siblings’ in my eyes!! no one in the world can hide from u, but then this random person with a complicated relationship with a father figure can predict ur feelings without u saying a word?? both confronting and comforting. i want them to communicate without saying anything — just weird grunts and nods — because i think it’d make tim and damian so mad.

in an ideal world we’d see a lot more focus of cass progressing as a detective, getting support for her learning disabilities from steph + babs + wendy, but id love to see an actual, proper case with just the two of them. cass isn’t just a martial artist — she’s super intelligent and just currently lacks the resources in other areas of the job! dick is experienced with connecting with and teaching people (specifically damian and rose wilson) and i think it’d be a really really cool story!

another angle would be passing the mantle of the bat to cass, and how dick would be a part of preparing her for that role. it’d be neat if there was some resentment there from cass— she actually wants to be batman, but she wasn’t considered. they both have such unique takes on what batman does or should do (dick found light in bruce’s darkness, cass can so clearly see a better future in gotham) that that dialogue would’ve been super super special to explore.

i also like the idea of like….. they both think the other is suuuper weird. like dick watches cass suplex a guy through dimensions like woag….. that’s crazy. and cass watches dick do a forward flip roll through space-time and she’s like ?????? sometimes bruce sees them talking about him on patrol and truly fears God in that moment.

[nameless-ken]

Bucky Barnes x Reader - Part Three

Word count: 7.4k

Warnings: none, fluff as always and some angst

Part One | Part Two

Masterlist

As you step through the door, balancing the warm pie in your hands, a flurry of laughter and chatter greets you. 

“Miss Y/L/N is here!” Elizabeth shouts excitedly and grabs your free hand, practically dancing you inside. 

“Hey!” Steve appears from the kitchen, giving you a welcoming smile and takes the pie from your hands. “Glad you could make it.”

Before you have a chance to reply, Elizabeth pulls you further into the gathering, introducing you Sam, Natasha, Clint, and Bruce, all gathered around with warm smiles and friendly greetings. Bucky hovers a little ways back, hands shoved into his pockets, his shoulders a touch tense. His eyes meet yours, just for a moment, and he gives you a small, slightly shy smile before looking away.

As you all move into the living room, the group’s easy chatter and laughter fill the air. You find yourself among a mix of friendly faces, each one seeming to bring something special to the room. Sam, ever the conversationalist, quickly pulls you into a story about an “epic” camping trip that had apparently ended with him rescuing Bucky from a raccoon, much to everyone’s amusement.

“Trust me,” Sam says with a grin, “Bucky here might look tough, but get him in the woods, and he’s toast. Isn’t that right, Buck?”

Bucky, leaning back with his arms crossed, rolls his eyes, clearly amused but trying to hide a smile. “I’d like to see you handle it any better, Wilson,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“Oh, come on,” Sam says, his gaze sliding toward you with a gleam of mischief. “He talks a big game, but you wouldn’t believe how much he’s told us about you.”

You feel a surprised blush creeping up, and Bucky’s expression goes from mildly amused to visibly embarrassed in seconds. “Sam,” he warns, his voice low but lacking any real bite.

Sam just smirks, clearly having too much fun. “What? You can’t spend weeks talking about someone and then get shy now that she’s actually here.” He turns back to you with a wink. “Honestly, we were starting to wonder if you were even real.”

Everyone laughs, and you can’t help but join in, glancing over at Bucky, who’s now rubbing the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze but clearly fighting a smile. “Don’t let him get to you,” he says, half under his breath, still looking anywhere but at you.

“It’s nice to know I made such an impression,” you say lightly, hoping to ease his nerves.

Natasha chimes in, leaning forward with a teasing smile. “Oh, he’s told us plenty. All good things, I assure you.”

Bucky’s face reddens slightly, and he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. You smile, touched by how endearing his shyness is. There’s something reassuring in knowing he might have felt the same quiet, lingering thoughts about you as you have about him.

You excuse yourself, wanting to say hi to Peggy, who you haven’t seen for a while for school pickup. 

In the cozy warmth of the kitchen, there is Elizabeth and Peggy, who is finishing up the last touches on dinner. The scent of roasted vegetables and warm spices fills the air as Elizabeth stands on her tiptoes, carefully sprinkling fresh herbs over a dish. She’s focused, her little hands steady, but when she sees you step into the kitchen, her face lights up.

“Come help!” she whispers, gesturing you over with a small wave.

“Oh hi Y/N. It’s so good to see you again! Elizabeth is so excited to have you over.” Peggy smiles brightly as she pulls you into a hug quickly. 

“I really appreciate the invite. Can I help with anything?” You offer your service up. You always hate showing up empty handed or standing around while the hosts do everything. 

“Elizabeth, why don’t you help Miss Y/L/N set the table?” Peggy hands her napkins while gesturing to the remaining dishes on the counter. 

You follow Elizabeth’s lead, handing her each item as you arrange the table. Elizabeth glances around to make sure no one is paying attention, then leans close, her voice low.

“Guess what?” she whispers conspiratorially, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Uncle Bucky likes you. He told me you’re his favorite friend.”

The comment catches you off guard, and you feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. You look down to hide it, but as you lift your gaze again, your eyes meet Bucky’s across the room. He’s leaning against the doorway, hands in his pockets, watching the two of you with a gentle expression. The second he realizes you’re looking back, his eyes widen slightly, and he quickly shifts his gaze to the floor, looking like he’s been caught.

You try to laugh it off, but you can’t help glancing back at Bucky. This time, he’s watching you more openly, his gaze soft and unguarded, as if he’s allowing himself to hope. The rest of the room fades for a moment, and in that shared look, a quiet understanding passes between you—a feeling unspoken but undeniable, settling in the spaces between words.

Elizabeth tugs your sleeve gently, breaking the spell. “See?” she whispers with a grin. “I knew he liked you.”

The table is soon filled with food, and everyone finds their seat. You end up across from Bucky, who seems even quieter than usual, his gaze flicking between his plate and the people around him. When your eyes meet across the table, he gives you another brief, tentative smile before focusing back on his mashed potatoes.

As everyone digs into their food, Natasha catches you up on a few funny stories about Steve, who rolls his eyes but laughs along. Clint chimes in with his own antics, earning a lighthearted smack from Natasha, and the easy laughter fills the room, warming the space around you. Bucky seems to relax as he listens to them, glancing your way every so often but always looking away just as quickly.

As dinner progresses, you’re drawn into lively conversations with the others around the table. Bruce, sitting to your left, asks about your work, genuinely interested, his warm smile making you feel right at home.

“So, how long have you been teaching?” Bruce asks, leaning in as the others pass around dessert plates.

“Quite awhile now, almost eight years,” you reply, glancing over at Elizabeth, who’s absorbed in a chat with Peggy about the cookies they baked together earlier. “It’s challenging, but it’s worth every bit of effort. Kids like Elizabeth make it all so rewarding.”

Across the table, Bucky catches your eye. He’s been quiet throughout the meal, but there’s a look in his eyes—a mixture of admiration and something deeper—that makes your heart skip a beat. He gives you a small, almost shy smile, as if he’s only just realizing how much he appreciates having you here. You feel a warmth settle over you, a silent exchange that says more than words could.

“So, Y/N,” Natasha says from down the table, her voice pulling you back into the moment, “you seem to be handling our chaos well.”

“Oh, it’s definitely been entertaining,” you laugh, glancing around. “But in a good way. I think I could get used to this.”

Natasha grins, raising an eyebrow. “Well, if you’re sticking around, maybe you’ll be here long enough to see us all argue over board games next,” she says, her tone mischievous.

Steve chuckles, setting his fork down. “Careful—Nat’s competitive streak knows no bounds. She once beat Clint’s winning streak at Uno, and I’m pretty sure he hasn’t forgiven her yet.”

“Rematch is on the agenda,” Clint interjects with a dramatic sigh, giving Natasha a pointed look. “Just wait until tonight.”

“See?” Sam says, throwing you a wink. “If you’re up for some cutthroat board gaming, you’re in for a real treat.”

You smile, settling back into your chair, and your gaze drifts back to Bucky. Across the table, his expression softens as he watches you, his thumb absently rubbing along the rim of his glass. There’s an unspoken connection building between you, and you can feel it more clearly with each shared glance, every gentle smile that passes between you two.

As the evening begins to wind down, you find yourself surrounding the coffee table with the others as an intense game of Uno is being played. You’ve practically given up at this point as Sam has conveniently played all his pick twos and fours on you. 

“UNO!” Clint yells as he holds one card in his hands, staring Natasha down. Natasha actually looks nervous and annoyed by the five cards in her hands. 

“Okay you suck Barton. You got lucky.” Natasha tosses a card down, then Bruce, Peggy, Steve, Sam and finally you, until it gets to Clint again, who plays his remaining card, winning the game. 

Clint grins triumphantly, leaning back with his arms crossed, basking in the group’s groans of defeat. “What can I say? Skill like this can’t be taught,” he teases, earning a playful nudge from Natasha.

“Oh, enjoy it while it lasts,” she retorts, narrowing her eyes at him with a smirk. “I’m coming for you next round.”

As the group resets the cards for another round, you glance around the room, only to realize that Bucky and Elizabeth are no longer there. You hadn’t noticed them slip away, but the absence of their presence makes you suddenly curious.

Excusing yourself, you rise from the couch and quietly make your way down the hallway, glancing into a few rooms before pausing at Elizabeth’s bedroom door. Inside, you spot them: Bucky, seated cross-legged on the floor, and Elizabeth, eagerly arranging a circle of dolls in front of him.

Elizabeth is chattering away, explaining the intricate backstory of each doll, while Bucky listens intently, nodding with the utmost seriousness. The sight is both heartwarming and a little amusing—Bucky, who so often keeps to himself, fully engrossed in this imaginary world with her.

“...and she’s the queen, so she makes all the rules,” Elizabeth says firmly, placing a doll in a paper crown in front of Bucky. “And you have to be the king. That’s the rule.”

Bucky lifts the doll she hands him with gentle fingers, studying it with a small, genuine smile. “The king, huh? What’s he supposed to do?”

“He has to make sure everyone is safe,” Elizabeth replies, glancing up at him with an adoring look. “And be brave.”

You feel yourself smiling, charmed by the way he goes along with her game without a trace of reluctance. Leaning against the doorframe, you clear your throat softly, and Bucky’s head snaps up, surprised. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, there’s something unspoken there—an almost shy warmth that makes your heart race.

“Oh, hi!” Elizabeth says, beaming when she sees you. “Do you want to play, too?”

You step inside, kneeling down beside them. “I wouldn’t want to intrude on your royal council,” you say with a grin, looking between them.

“Nonsense,” Bucky says, giving you a playful look as he scoots over to make room for you. “Every kingdom needs a trusted advisor.”

Settling in beside them, you pick up a doll, and the three of you quickly fall into an easy rhythm, building an imaginary world that feels as warm as the room around you. At one point, your hand brushes against Bucky’s, lingering there for a moment, and he glances at you with that same gentle, quiet smile. There’s something comforting—and thrilling—about being here like this with him.

When Elizabeth leans forward to adjust the queen’s crown, Bucky catches your eye again, his gaze lingering, filled with a depth you hadn’t quite noticed before tonight. There’s a silent understanding between you, one that promises more than either of you have said aloud yet.

And for now, that’s enough.

As the evening winds down, the group gradually disperses, the air filled with laughter and a lingering warmth that only a night with friends can bring. One by one, the others begin saying their goodbyes, each of them giving you a warm smile or a quick hug, leaving you feeling more at home than you’ve felt in a long time.

Elizabeth, exhausted from the excitement, gives you a sleepy smile as Peggy ushers her toward her room. “Thanks for playing with us,” she murmurs, her eyes heavy-lidded. You smile and squeeze her hand gently.

“Anytime,” you reply softly. “You were the best queen tonight.”

Elizabeth beams at you, her face lighting up for just a moment before she stifles a yawn and allows Peggy to lead her away. You watch her disappear down the hall, feeling an unexpected warmth in your chest.

When you turn back to the living room, Bucky is there, his hands tucked into his pockets, a soft smile on his face. The others have mostly gone, leaving just the two of you in the quiet, cozy glow of the dimmed lights.

“Looks like you’re about to head out too,” he says quietly, his voice low and slightly raspy from the night of talking.

You nod, glancing down for a moment before meeting his gaze. “Yeah, it’s getting late,” you say, trying to keep your tone light, though your heart is racing a bit.

He steps forward, hesitating for just a moment, his gaze lingering on yours with that same softness that’s been there all night. “Thanks for coming. Elizabeth had a great time tonight,” he says, his voice warm. “And… so did I.”

The two of you stand in silence for a beat, neither one of you quite ready to break whatever has been building between you since dinner. He opens his mouth, as if to say something else, but stops, looking at you with a quiet intensity that makes you wonder if he feels it too.

You reach out and gently touch his arm, giving him a small smile. “Thanks for having me over. I really enjoyed tonight… and seeing this side of you,” you add, a hint of playfulness in your voice.

He lets out a soft chuckle, his cheeks flushing slightly as his gaze drifts to the floor, a faint smile on his lips. “Maybe, um… we could do this again sometime. Just, you know, without the whole crew.”

Your heart skips a beat at the suggestion, warmth spreading through you. “I’d like that,” you say, meeting his eyes and holding his gaze for a moment longer. “Here, put your number in and we can talk more about it later.” You grab your phone with shaking hands, flustered from Bucky’s presence. 

Bucky types his name and number, saving it. As you tuck your phone back into your pocket, Bucky glances at you, his blue eyes holding that same softness from earlier, now laced with a spark of anticipation.

“Guess I’ll, uh, see you soon then,” he says, his voice barely above a murmur, as if not wanting to break the fragile quiet around you both.

“Yeah, soon,” you reply, your voice coming out softer than intended, carrying all the unspoken things you want to say but aren’t quite ready to. 

Your smile grows as he helps you pull your coat on, and just before you turn to leave, he gives your hand a quick, gentle squeeze—a touch so brief that if you hadn’t been paying attention, you might have missed it. 

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he says softly, his voice wrapped in that low, comforting tone that you’re starting to find so familiar.

“Goodnight, Bucky,” you reply, your voice lingering a little longer than it should, letting the silence stretch between you both for just a breath more.

You step out into the cool night, the air feeling sharper after the warmth of the evening, but your mind is buzzing too much to notice. As you walk down the quiet street, you can still feel the gentle brush of his fingers, the look in his eyes, and the quiet promise hanging in the air between you.

The next day, you find yourself reaching for your phone, unable to resist the urge to text Bucky. After a little mental back and forth, you type out a message and hit send:

You: Morning, Bucky 😊 Hope you and Elizabeth got some rest after last night’s big feast!

It doesn’t take long before he replies:

Bucky: Morning. We definitely did—she practically passed out the second she hit her pillow.

You smile, picturing Elizabeth’s sleepy face and tousled hair, and quickly type a reply.

You: Well, she was a very busy queen last night! Hope you got some rest, too.

Bucky: I did. Kept thinking about how much fun she had with you, though. I think she’d keep you around full-time if she could.

You: It was a perfect end to Friendsgiving! Are you sure you’re up for a repeat next year?

Bucky: Only if you promise to sit across from me again. I’m not sure I could handle it otherwise. 😉

You feel your cheeks warm at the subtle flirtation, and you can’t help but lean into it a little.

You: Oh, so it was my company that kept you going? I’m flattered, Barnes.

There’s a pause, and then a new message pops up:

Bucky: Speaking of… I was thinking about next weekend. I’d like to take you somewhere, if you’re free on Saturday?

Your heart does a little flip. You can almost hear his voice through the words, steady but with a hint of anticipation.

You: Definitely. I’d say I could survive another night of your charm.

Bucky: Oh, you’re in trouble now. I’ve been told I’m even more charming one-on-one.

You: Is that so? Guess I’ll have to brace myself.

He calls suddenly, interrupting your next message, and you pick up, a little caught off guard but excited.

“Hey,” you say, trying to sound casual, but there’s a definite smile in your voice.

“Hey,” he replies, his tone warm and familiar. “Thought I’d call before I accidentally type a novel. Or break my phone trying.”

You laugh. “Honestly, I was ready to read the whole thing.”

“Noted,” he says, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Guess I’ll have to brush up on my typing skills.”

“I don’t mind this though,” you reply softly. “Hearing your voice instead of reading texts.”

There’s a comfortable pause before he speaks again, sounding a bit more relaxed. “I’m looking forward to Saturday… any food preferences, by the way?”

“Nothing fancy,” you say. “Just good company—and maybe a view?”

“Company I’ve got covered. And I know just the place with a great view,” he promises, his voice softening. “I’ll make sure it’s perfect.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help but smile. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Good,” he replies, his tone warm. After a beat, he adds, “Thanks for giving this a chance.”

“Thanks for asking,” you reply, the warmth in his voice settling around you like a blanket.

There’s a comfortable silence, neither of you quite ready to say goodbye, as if each shared word and laugh has deepened the connection even further.

“Well,” he finally says, his voice quieter, almost reluctant. “I’ll see you Saturday, then.”

“Looking forward to it,” you reply, a smile on your face.

It’s been a busy week, and the anticipation of your date with Bucky tomorrow has kept a quiet excitement buzzing through you since this morning.

You say goodbye to the students as their parents pick them up. Elizabeth is the last one out running down the hall with a shout of a goodbye to you. You laugh at her eagerness to get to Bucky and you can’t blame her. You’d do the same. 

As you lock up your classroom and exit the school doors, you immediately spot Bucky, leaning against his car parked by the curb, Elizabeth sitting in her carseat with her tablet, watching her favorite Barbie movie. 

Bucky is leaning against his car, looking as relaxed and calm as you’ve ever seen him outside the school. He’s dressed in a deep red henley and dark jeans. It's the small bouquet of flowers in his hands that catches your eye—a simple, elegant arrangement of red roses.

You stop in your tracks for a moment, heart skipping a beat. As if he senses you, he looks up, his face breaking into a grin when he sees you.

"Hey," he says, pushing off the truck slightly and onto the sidewalk with one glance toward Elizabeth to make sure she’s still okay. "I hope you don’t mind. I figured I’d bring you these... thought it might be a nice way to kick off the weekend."

You feel warmth spread through you as he offers you the flowers, and you can’t help but smile. "Bucky... these are beautiful. You really didn’t have to."

He shrugs, a soft laugh escaping him. "I wanted to. Plus, I figured I’d start things off right before our date tomorrow."

You raise an eyebrow, the teasing smile playing on your lips. "Are you trying to set the bar high already, Barnes?"

Bucky looks a little flustered, his cheeks flushing slightly, but there’s a twinkle in his eyes. "Well, you know, I’ve gotta keep up with any other contenders to make sure I stay on top." His voice drops a little as he adds, "And I just wanted to make sure you knew I’m really looking forward to tomorrow."

“I can assure you, there is no other competition.” Your heart melts just a little at the sincerity in his voice. "I’m looking forward to it too," you reply softly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

Bucky's gaze softens as he watches you, the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Good. Because I think tomorrow's gonna be a lot of fun."

Before the moment can stretch into something heavier, Elizabeth's voice cuts through the air from the car, her high-pitched excitement unmistakable. "Uncle Bucky! Look! Barbie's going to the beach!" she announces proudly, waving her tablet in the air as if it’s a trophy.

You both glance over at her, and Bucky chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. "She's really into that movie lately," he says, a touch of amusement in his voice.

You laugh, watching the little girl practically bouncing in her seat. "Well, Barbie certainly knows how to make an impression."

Bucky smiles at the comment, but there's a soft, almost nostalgic look in his eyes as he watches her. He leans in toward you, his voice quieter this time. "She’s been asking about you, you know. Keeps asking when you’re going to go back over to her house again."

Your heart flutters at the thought. "She’s such a sweetheart," you reply, the warmth in your chest spreading. "I’m glad she likes me."

Bucky’s smile widens, but there's a subtle vulnerability in his expression that makes you pause. "I think she’s kind of hoping you’ll come hang out with us more. I can’t say I blame her."

"Well," you begin, trying to keep the mood light, "it’s hard to say no to such a persuasive little one."

His gaze softens and for a brief second, there’s a quiet intensity between you, the world around you seeming to fade for just a heartbeat. "Alright then. Tomorrow it is," he says with a small nod, his smile growing.

"Definitely," you reply, a smile tugging at your lips as you watch him climb into the driver’s seat of the truck, Elizabeth already turning the volume up on her tablet.

He waves at you through the window before pulling away, and you watch them drive off, feeling that same buzz of excitement filling you up for what tomorrow might bring.

As you make your way to your car, you can’t help but replay the quiet exchange in your mind—the warmth in his eyes, the sincerity of his words. Tomorrow might be the start of something even better than you’d imagined.

The sun is beginning to dip lower in the sky as you finish up your preparations for the evening. It’s Saturday—your first real date with Bucky, and the nerves you’ve been feeling all day are only now settling in. You’re nervous, but it’s a good kind of nervous. It’s the kind of nervous that comes with looking forward to something new, something exciting.

You’re just finishing up a last-minute check in the mirror when you hear a knock on the door. Your heart skips a beat.

You open it to find Bucky standing there, his familiar grin lighting up his face. He’s dressed casually, in a deep green button-up shirt, sleek dress pants, and a leather jacket, his usual relaxed style elevated with a subtle touch of sophistication. Somehow, tonight, it all seems to make your pulse quicken in a way you didn’t expect.

“Hey,” he says, his voice warm and easy, though there’s a slight hint of nervousness in his eyes as he holds out his hand. In it, he’s holding a small bouquet of white daisies. The simplicity of the gesture has your heart swelling.

“Hi,” you reply, your smile spreading across your face as you take the flowers from him. “They’re lovely, Bucky. Thank you.”

His expression softens as he watches you, and a small blush tints his cheeks. He steps back slightly, glancing toward his car parked on the curb. “Ready to go?”

You nod, feeling your heart flutter a little as you step outside, the cool evening air brushing against your skin. The night feels alive with possibility, and as Bucky opens the passenger door for you, you slide into the seat with anticipation, your nerves buzzing. The butterflies in your stomach don’t seem to quiet down as you settle into the car.

Bucky slides into the driver’s seat beside you, his hands gripping the wheel for a moment as he gathers his thoughts. You both fall into a comfortable silence, the soft hum of the road and the low music from the radio filling the space between you. The air feels easy, though you can sense a shared nervousness underneath it all. Neither of you speaks for a few moments, but the silence is pleasant.

After a beat, Bucky clears his throat, his voice a little rough as he glances over at you, his hand adjusting the steering wheel slightly. “You look, uh—really beautiful.”

The compliment catches you off guard, but in the best way. Your heart skips a beat, and you feel a slight flush spread across your cheeks. You meet his eyes for a brief moment, your smile soft and sincere. “Thank you. You look very handsome tonight too.”

At your words, Bucky visibly relaxes, his shoulders dropping a little as if he’s relieved. His lips twitch upward in a shy smile, but there's a quiet warmth in his eyes that makes your chest tighten in the best way. The drive continues, but now there’s an added sense of comfort, like the space between you both is slowly closing, becoming more intimate with each passing second.

“You know,” Bucky says after a while, keeping his eyes on the road, “I’m really glad we’re doing this. I’ve been... kind of nervous, actually. But in a good way, you know?”

You smile, your eyes drifting back to the road as you consider his words. “I get it,” you say softly. “I’ve been nervous too. But I’m glad we’re finally here.”

The tension that lingers between you both starts to fade with each passing mile, and the drive feels easier, more natural. Bucky doesn’t seem quite as tense now, and the silence between you becomes less heavy, replaced with small talk and laughter.

When you finally reach your destination, Bucky parks the car near a secluded spot. It’s a quiet overlook on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by tall trees and the soft sound of wind through the leaves. The view is stunning—the sprawling city lights twinkling in the distance, the stars just beginning to pierce the night sky. It’s peaceful, private, and you immediately feel a sense of calm wash over you.

“You wanna head up?” Bucky asks, motioning to the small path that leads up to the overlook. “I, uh, packed a little something. Thought we could hang out up there.”

“Yeah, sure,” you reply, trying to act casual, but your heart’s racing as you follow him up the path. You try to ignore how nervous you feel, focusing on the quiet hum of the world around you, the rustling of leaves in the wind, and Bucky’s presence next to you.

When you reach the top, you see that Bucky has set up a small blanket on the ground, with a basket beside it. There are candles in mason jars lining the edges, casting a warm glow on the area around you. It feels cozy, intimate, and it’s clear that Bucky’s put a lot of thought into this.

“I wanted to make it special,” he says, looking a little shy as he sits down on the blanket. “I don’t really know how to do dates like this, but I thought maybe a quiet place would be... nice.”

You sit down beside him, your fingers brushing against his briefly, and you can’t help but smile at how sweet this all is. "I love it, Bucky. It’s perfect."

The two of you fall into a natural silence for a moment, both of you unsure what to say next, but the quiet is comfortable. The only sounds are the occasional rustle of the trees and the soft hum of the city below.

“So...” you start, glancing over at him. “How’s, uh... how’s everything been for you lately?”

Bucky takes a deep breath, looking out over the city, his voice thoughtful. “It’s been... different. In a good way, I think. I’ve gotten used to the quiet in my life, but sometimes it feels like I’m missing something. Like I’m waiting for something, you know?”

You nod, understanding more than you expected. “I get that. I think sometimes, when life gets a little too quiet, you start wondering if something’s missing. Like... maybe you need to take a chance on something, even if it feels a little scary.”

Bucky’s gaze shifts toward you, his expression softening. “Yeah,” he agrees quietly. “That’s kind of how I feel right now. Taking chances. But with you... with Elizabeth, it feels different. It feels right.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten. You feel the connection between the two of you deepening, a quiet understanding that neither of you has quite been able to put into words.

For the next hour or so, you talk about everything and nothing—your pasts, your dreams, the things that scare you, and the things that make you feel alive. There’s an ease between you now, a comfort that grows with each passing minute. You talk about your favorite books, childhood memories, and what you hope for in the future. Bucky shares stories of his time in the army, of the people he’s loved and lost, and there’s a quiet vulnerability in his voice that makes your heart ache for him.

“So,” you start, breaking the silence with a small smile, “what’s one thing I’d never guess about you?”

Bucky thinks for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly. “Hmm... I don’t know. I guess people always think I’m just a tough guy, you know? Like, I don’t know, all muscles and no heart.” He chuckles softly, the sound warm, but there’s a touch of vulnerability beneath it. “But I’m not like that. I can be... sentimental. I keep things, little reminders of people or moments that meant something.”

You nod, your smile softening as you listen. “I can definitely see that about you. I think we all hold onto things in different ways. I'm kind of a book hoarder. I’ve got shelves full of them.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Really? What’s your favorite genre?”

You shrug, thinking for a moment. “I guess mostly fiction. I love stories that take me to places I’ve never been, things I could only ever wish to experience myself.”

He leans forward slightly, genuinely intrigued. “I get that. Some days I wish I could escape into something else for a while.”

You look at him, sensing a deeper layer beneath his words. “Where would you go, if you could? Somewhere far away, I mean.”

He leans back, arms circling his legs, eyes distant for a moment, like he’s picturing it. “I think... maybe a quiet place. Somewhere with a view. Maybe a cabin in the woods or on a mountain. Somewhere peaceful. I’ve spent a lot of time in chaos, in places that were loud and demanding. I don’t think I realized how much I missed silence until I had some time away from it.”

There’s a softness in his voice as he talks, something that makes your chest ache just a little. “That sounds... really nice. I think we all need quiet sometimes.”

Bucky glances at you, a smile tugging at his lips. “What about you? Where would you go?”

You pause, your thoughts drifting. “I think I’d go somewhere similar. I’ve always loved nature and the coziness of rain. I’d like to go somewhere that gets cold but not too cold. I’d like to spend time dreaming up my own stories or just think.”

Bucky nods, seeming to understand. “That sounds good, too. Sometimes being alone with your thoughts is the best way to find clarity.”

You nod, the quiet between you settling comfortably again. After a moment, you break the silence, wanting to know more. “You mentioned before, in passing, that you were in the army along with Steve and Sam. What was that like?”

Bucky’s expression shifts, and you notice a subtle change in his posture. His shoulders tighten slightly, and he stares down at the ground for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “It was... a lot of things. Good and bad. You meet people who become your family, and you see things you wish you didn’t have to. But you learn a lot about yourself, too. What you're capable of when it really matters. But... you lose people along the way. Some of them were like brothers to me.”

His voice softens, and there’s a quiet ache in his words. “It’s hard to talk about sometimes. I don’t always know what to say.”

You’re silent for a moment, letting the weight of his words settle between you, but there’s no rush to fill the space. You don’t push him. Instead, you simply say, “I can’t even imagine what that must have been like.”

Bucky gives a small, quiet smile, his eyes distant again. “It’s not something you ever get over. You just learn to live with it, you know? Keep going, because that’s what they would have wanted.”

You nod slowly, absorbing his words. “I think that’s really brave. I don’t know if I could be that strong.”

Bucky meets your gaze, his eyes serious but with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter. “You’d be surprised. Strength isn’t always about big things. Sometimes it’s the small moments, the ones that nobody else sees. Like... showing up for someone when they need you. Or just listening when they need to talk.”

Your heart swells at his words. You didn’t expect to find such depth in a conversation so early, but it feels easy, like you’ve both always been able to talk like this. You swallow, your voice quiet but sincere. “I’m glad you’re here, Bucky.”

His expression softens even further, and he leans forward slightly, his voice low. “I’m glad I’m here too.”

You both fall into a comfortable silence, but it’s different this time. There’s a deeper connection between you now, a shared understanding, as if you’ve both opened up in ways that most people never do. And it feels right—like this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

Finally, Bucky clears his throat, breaking the silence with a small chuckle. “Sorry, I got a little heavy there. Didn’t mean to bring down the mood.”

You smile, shaking your head. “No, not at all. I like hearing about you. All of you.”

Bucky’s eyes twinkle, and he grins that soft, easy grin of his. “Well, I guess I’ll have to tell you more sometime, then.”

You laugh, the sound light and free between you. “I look forward to it.”

As the evening starts to wind down, you realize how much time has passed. The stars are fully out now, the city lights dimming beneath the vast sky. The two of you are sitting closer than before, your shoulders brushing every now and then, and you both seem reluctant to leave the spot.

“Do you wanna head back?” Bucky asks, his voice soft, though you can hear the hesitation in it. “I don’t want this to end yet, but I also don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

You smile, a little shy. “No, I’m good. I’m really glad we did this. It’s... it’s been nice.”

Bucky stands, offering his hand to help you up. “Well, I’ll take you home then. If you’re ready, that is.”

“Yeah, I’m ready,” you say, slipping your hand into his as he helps you to your feet. You both make your way back to the car, neither of you speaking for a moment, just enjoying the peaceful quiet around you.

When you arrive at your apartment, Bucky parks the car in front of your building. “I had a really great time tonight,” he says, turning toward you with a soft smile. “Thank you for... you know, giving me a chance.”

You look up at him, your heart full. “I’m glad I did. I think we have something good here, Bucky.”

There’s a moment of silence as you both just look at each other, and before you can say anything else, you surprise yourself by offering, “Would you like to come inside? I could make us some tea.”

Bucky seems caught off guard for a second, then smiles softly. “I’d like that. I think I’d like that a lot.”

The two of you walk inside, and you get to work making the tea. The conversation flows easily between you, filled with laughter and small moments of silence, as the next couple hours slip by unnoticed. You talk about your favorite childhood memories, your first jobs, your biggest fears. Each topic somehow leads into the next, like you're both unraveling the little threads of who you are, but it doesn't feel rushed.

You laugh at something Bucky says, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear, and he catches the movement, his gaze softening for a moment.

“You know,” Bucky says, his voice a little quieter now, “I never thought I’d be here, doing this... with anyone. Not after everything.”

You glance at him, curiosity piqued. “Doing what?”

He shrugs, a small smile on his lips. “Just... talking like this. Being open. Letting someone in. I’ve spent so much time keeping people at arm's length. It’s easier, I guess, to just... not let anyone get too close.”

You feel your chest tighten, the words hitting you in a way you hadn’t expected. You lower your gaze, trying to hide the way your heart swells with sympathy and understanding.

“I think I get that,” you say softly. “I’ve kind of built my own walls over the years, too. Not because I didn’t want to let people in, but because... I don’t know. It’s easier to be alone sometimes.”

He looks at you, and for a long moment, neither of you speaks. It’s as if the weight of your shared vulnerability is lingering between you, hanging in the air.

Bucky leans forward just a little, his gaze never leaving yours. “I don’t want you to think that... I’m not interested in letting you in,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper now. “Because I am. I don’t know if it’s the right time or the right place, but I want you to know that I am.”

Your breath catches, heart pounding in your chest. There’s a rawness in his voice that makes the air between you feel thick, heavy with unspoken words. You hesitate for a moment, before speaking.

“I’m not going anywhere, Bucky.” Your voice is soft, but certain. “I’m here. I’ll always been here, just... sometimes I think I don't know how to say it.”

There’s a quiet, tender moment that passes between you. His lips part slightly, and he leans in just a fraction more, as if testing the space between you.

And that’s when the tension shifts, palpable now, crackling in the air. You both seem to feel it—a pull, something that draws you in, something that makes the moment stretch, and the space between you disappears. For a breathless second, everything else seems to vanish.

Your lips are so close now. His eyes flicker down to your mouth, then back up to meet your gaze, searching for permission, for a sign that you feel what he does.

You feel the warmth of his breath on your face, the closeness, and your pulse quickens. The intensity between you is almost too much, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you let it hang there, both of you caught in the moment.

And then, just as it feels like the gap might close between you, Bucky exhales sharply, pulling back slightly as if snapping out of it. He runs a hand through his hair, awkwardly clearing his throat.

“Sorry,” he mutters, voice tight. “I didn’t mean to make it weird.”

You laugh softly, trying to ease the tension, though your heart is still racing. “It’s not weird, Bucky. It’s... nice.”

He looks at you for a long moment, his gaze searching yours again, a bit of uncertainty there. “I don’t want to rush anything,” he says, his voice steadying. “I just... I don’t know. I really like being with you.”

You nod, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I like being with you too.”

The tension in the air lingers for a while longer, but the moment passes, and you both settle back into the comfortable rhythm of conversation again. You talk about small things—silly anecdotes and favorite songs, and the connection you’ve built feels stronger now than it ever has before.

As the conversation winds down, your eyes begin to flutter, exhaustion finally catching up with you. You let out a soft yawn, leaning back against the couch. Bucky watches you, his eyes soft, but there’s something almost reluctant in his gaze.

“I should probably go,” he says quietly, standing up and stretching. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

You sit up, still a little drowsy. “You don’t have to leave,” you say, your voice a little more vulnerable than you intend. “I... I don’t want you to go.”

Bucky hesitates, his expression conflicted as he looks at you. “I... I don’t want to leave either,” he admits, his voice low. “But I don’t want to make things awkward either.”

You smile softly, trying to push the sleepiness from your eyes. “It’s not Bucky. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

After a long pause, he sits back down beside you, though his body is tense. He watches you closely for a moment before finally settling in. “Alright. I’ll stay. But just... just to keep you company. And because I don’t want you to be alone either.”

You feel a warm flush spread through you as you nestle deeper into the couch, the quiet between you comforting and safe. Bucky lies down beside you, careful not to get too close, but still there. You fall asleep, your head on his chest, and for the first time in a long while, you feel at peace.

Bucky lies awake beside you, his eyes staring up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the thoughts that swirl in his mind. He doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want to wake you, but the weight of his past—the nightmares, the fears—keeps him from fully resting. He stays awake, just listening to the sound of your breathing, hoping that his presence won’t disturb your sleep.

It’s the first time he’s ever felt this way with someone—so close, yet so distant, fighting the demons inside. He wonders, for just a moment, if he’s ready to let someone in completely.

Part Four

Thanks for reading! Please reblog & comment <3 would love to hear how you enjoy it and feel free to send in requests!

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"Ice Cold Jax" Geechee!Erik Killmonger

Pairing: Geechee!Erik Killmonger x Black Female OC

Warning(s): 18+, Smut, Supernatural Horror, Period Piece, Erik Stevens AU, Black American Folktale.

Summary: Erik "Killmonger" Stevens is a Geechee wanderer and lover of big-legged women and good moonshine. On a trip to visit his favorite juke joint in 1940s Mississippi, he entertains a lover of sorts, Lulabelle, the juke joint owner and Madame of the nearby whorehouse. Erik battles two mythical creatures from Black American folklore, the Plat Eye and the Crossroads Man in order to save Lulabelle and her establishment. The tale is told from the perspective of a ghost who was once Lulabelle's best friend.

Word count: 5.5K

"The winter time is coming

And it's going to be slow

You can't make the weather baby

it's dry long so

You betta come on in my kitchen

because it's going to be Raining outdoors..."

Cassandra Wilson – "Come on in my Kitchen" (Written by Robert Johnson)

There were two things Lulabelle Humphreys knew how to sell in Itta Bena Mississippi and that was moonshine and other people's pussy.

She did that very well until one night of the Harvest moon when cotton would soon be harvested by the local sharecroppers and itinerant Mexican men who traveled through the delta region looking for work like every other Negro or poor white trash far and wide. On that night under a sweltering heat full of drunk patrons and her smooth-talking whores inside her juke joint with the "special ladies" house attached by a rickety bridge that crossed over a tiny creek full of frogs and singing crickets, Lulabelle witnessed the showdown of all showdowns between the Plat Eye and the Crossroads Man, shonuff, right inside her little rambling hot music-havin' and ice-cold beer havin' establishment.

And if it hadn't been for that slow walking city-to-city wandering Geechee man with the gold teeth, slick smile, and flashy suit standing by her with the smarts of his low country kin back in South Carolina, why Lulabelle might've lost everything that night like she lost me so many years ago when that Plat Eye stole me away when we was teenaged girls in these backwoods. But thank the Lord up above for Erik Stevens ramblin' through with that shiny switchblade, and his Gullah ways, cuz shonuff, that was a night to remember and I'm gonna tell it exactly how it happened from top to bottom and all the sides in between. I ain't been dead long enough or forgotten long enough to not tell it all...

"Mavis, how much lavender water is left in there?"

Lulabelle shouted into the open door that led to one of the "loving" rooms inside her special house.

"There's one bottle left," Ruth called out.

The young woman was nothing but string bean arms and toothpick legs, however, she was a favorite among the darker-skinned Black sharecroppers who admired her fair skin and limp shiny black hair. Even the high yella gals envied what Ruth could pull in because the men were willing to part with more money to fuck what was as close to a white woman as they would get.

Lulabelle knew clearly what a fetish was, so she used Ruth for the high income, but she also had Mavis, a crystal Black pearl with a dark hue so deep that negro soldiers from the military base lined up for hours waiting to part her dusky thighs to taste the sticky sweets within. There was someone for everybody at the house. Big women. Little scrawny women. Big Bodacious titties and itty-bitty mosquito bites. For the richly endowed there was Starla with a pussy so fat and deep that blues ballads were written for her. For the poorly imbued, there was Tweety Pie, a tiny woman with a small tight snatch that rivaled Starla in particular-sized fans.

For the men who didn't fawn over the womenfolk, there was Honey Boy, a twenty-something pretty little thing with bow lips, high cheekbones, and a fat ass that posed as a houseboy who brought fresh after-sex towels, water for the whore baths, and rubbers for the men who forgot to prepare for penetration. Honey Boy could dress like a pretty woman and serve clients fat wood if that was to a patron's liking. Lulabelle was surprised at how popular he was becoming on the low low, especially from the men in the military. Men with men had always been a reality, but Honey Boy was multidimensional. He could turn into a Butch boy from a chain gang, to a bullying Army sergeant to dominate and spread male ass cheeks that needed fat balls against balls. Or he could be a dainty femme movie star in a bra and heels with his hard dick swinging. Lulabelle kept a ready supply of costumes for him, more than the women. All the ladies needed were pretty underwear, strong garter belts, and lipstick. She kept quiet that she paid Honey Boy more than anyone else.

The second world war was putting money in her pockets. 1942 was a profitable war year for Lulabelle. Her pocketbook was fat with cash, and she could now afford real jewelry instead of the cheap costume fare she sported the last three years. She could even maintain a steady hot comb appointment at Mamie's Wash and Curl uptown. Her latest favorite style was imitating Joan Crawford's immaculate curls that she saw in the talkies at the Bijou theater. When she really wanted to look glamorous, she would have Mamie swoop up her thick hair on top of her head with a pinned curl on the front and an under curl in the back. The rich white women she saw in the new color catalogues wore their hair like that.

She wore her hair like that for that evening. It was a special night. The Harvest Moon was going up, and the men would be arriving in droves to drink, dance, and fuck.

He was coming too.

The Gullah man. That sly Geechie with the gold teeth.

Erik Stevens.

His arrival always coincided with some new moon every few months. She'd dress up extra special when she thought he was coming through. Her pussy was already twitching thinking about him.

"I'll have Honey Boy get you a fresh bottle," Lulabelle said patting the back of her hair.

It was hot already, and she worried that her hair wouldn't maintain until Erik saw it. Ruth stepped out of the room. The yellow silk camisole Lulabelle bought for her came to her thighs and had enough lace in the front to cover the baby bulge that was threatening to peek out. The girl got knocked up and none of the home remedies the cook Eva concocted worked in knocking the unwanted pregnancy out. Ruth could probably hide the truth for another month or so, but eventually she would have to go on convalescence and Lulabelle would have to rely on the other women to please the Ruth fans until the woman returned or left for a new life in the North. Until then, Ruth was about making her money and camouflaging the bump.

"Can you tell?" she asked.

Lulabelle squinted.

"These men will be too drunk to notice. Keep the garment on and don't worry about it."

Lulabelle checked in on the other ladies and all was well. Seven rooms, seven whores, seven sources of revenue on top of the juke joint next door. She peeked in on one of the mirrors inside a room and felt satisfied. Her beige dress hugged the curves of her big wide hips and large backside. Her heels made her short body have a little height. She needed a little more powder for her round nose, and the grease pencil she used for her eyes held the dark wings she gave herself.

"Eat your heart out, Joan," she muttered to herself.

She crossed the little wooden bridge that led to the juke joint making sure her crème bow top summer pumps didn't get dirty. Her name was painted in fading blue letters above the entrance. By Christmas she hoped to get a fancy electric sign that sparkled "Lula's". Honey Boy swept the porch entry and she could smell the grease being heated on the kitchen stove inside by Eva. There'd be fried chicken, black-eyed peas, collards with ham hocks, and plenty of buttermilk cornbread to sell with the ice cold Jax beer and corn liquor.

Her eyes scanned the lowering sun over the canopy of Tupelo trees. A loud shriek startled her and made Honey Boy stop sweeping.

"What was that?" Honey Boy asked.

His pressed hair was slicked back, and his copper brown skin was moist with sweat from the oppressive heat.

Lulabelle clutched at her chest. The sound came from deep in the woods. The darkness there shrouded any mysteries that lived within it.

"Sounded like something caught," she said.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose.

A memory.

Being a young teen girl with...

No. Don't think of her. That was the past.

Lulabelle pushed down on the terror in her throat and hid her shaking fingers in front of her dress.

"Probably some unlucky racoon ran across Old Man Rickers trap," she said.

"Yeah, you prolly right, Lulabelle. The man been hunting out there this week."

She heard the doubt in his tremulous voice. The lie hung in the air like dark sap on a dying tree between them.

"That sounded like death is on his way," Eva said.

The older plump woman opened the screen door of the juke joint while wiping down a plate.

"Don't say that, Eva. It's just an old coon, or a slow wild pig—"

The shriek pierced the air again.

"Lord have mercy," Eva said.

The older woman cradled the cheap gold-plated crucifix around her neck.

Rifle shots sounded in the distance and Lulabelle jumped, then smiled.

"See? Just some hunters putting some fresh meat down. Let's get ready for tonight, y'all."

Not one of them moved from the porch until Archie started tinkling on the piano keys inside the juke.

Pussy poppin' in the whorehouse, music jumping, bodies swaying, lips sucking down moonshine and dark beer, Lula's juke shook on its foundations. Dollar bills came in hand over fist as Lulabelle strolled around the property checking in with customers and hustling Eva to fry up more chicken plates. She rounded the corner of the makeshift stage shaking her hips to the hot sounds when her eyes slid to the entrance and saw Geechie Erik swagger in. Double-breasted gray suit with shiny silver buttons and matching cufflinks. Steel-blue silk tie, and black and gray woven Oxford shoes had the Geechie man draped. Lulabelle already knew he smelled like a million bucks even though she was standing nowhere near him. Erik took off his black fedora hat. He had kicked up the waves on his close-cropped hair, and his lightly bearded cheeks gave him a pronounced sophistication compared to all the clean-shaven military men taking up most of the space in the joint.

His eyes scanned the wide room and when they fell on her, her heart sang a minuet in his honor just to see those dimples in his cheeks. He strode toward her with long confident strides and when he circled his arm around her waist, she shivered at his touch.

"Lulabelle, Lulabelle. You get prettier every time I see you."

He gave her a wet sloppy kiss on her cheek, and she swooned. His scent was expensive leather, imported cologne, and Murray's hair pomade.

"Lemme get you a drink, Daddy," she purred.

"No, let me get you a drink. Stay right here."

He sauntered over to the big counter and within minutes he brought her back a small glass of whiskey to match his own. They toasted, tossed the liquor back, and he led her to an open table in the low-lit corner as bodies pressed together dancing around them. His thick lips were on her neck before she could gaze into his eyes, and his thicker fingers were already under her dress creeping over a seamed stocking, her garter belt, and the bottom of her girdlette. He inched closer to her core.

"Goodness gracious, you already hot down here," he whispered in her ear.

His finger swiped across Lulabelle's panties bringing her clit to life.

"Oh... there it is... my jewel," he crooned before he slid the garment aside and fingered her slit.

Erik had her sopping wet by the time the band switched tunes. Two of his warm fingers pumped in and out of her pussy, making her pant and writhe on her seat next to him.

"You gon' sweat my hair out already!" she yelped reaching for the back of her neck.

Erik flipped his digits over palm-side up and finger fucked her until a puddle of creamy juices flowed out onto her chair. Once her legs shook and she squirmed uncontrollably, he bolted up from his seat and grabbed her hand. His dick jutted out from his pants and he dragged through the side door that led to the wooden bridge and the loving house.

"Get the fuck out," he told a patron having his dick sucked in the first room they came to.

Tweety Pie was on her knees, her bright red lips puckered around a small light brown penis. Her eyes grew wide when she saw Erik and the rigid length straining against his zipper.

Erik whipped out his switchblade and flicked it open.

"Out!" he barked.

Tweety Pie scrambled from her knees and pulled her customer by his hand with his trousers dragging around his ankles to another room. Erik slammed the door shut on the gawking eyes of the other whores and pushed Lulabelle against a mahogany cabinet that held lingerie.

"Turn around."

The snarl in his voice made her spin and toot her big ass out toward him. He dragged the cool blade up against the bottom of her stockings until it dipped just under the hem of her dress. He yanked her dress up around her chest and the sharp blade skimmed across her black satin-covered ass cheek. With just a little more pressure he could break the skin on her fat rump through the material and make her bleed. Erik jerked the blade and sliced her panties off. She gasped and clutched at the smooth wood of the cabinet for balance. She heard his zipper peel down slowly and felt his hands fumble for a rubber.

"You miss Daddy?"

"Yes!"

He parted her folds before she could catch her breath. The fullness stretching her out made her shout his name and grit her teeth. Pumping into her slowly at first, he teased the hell out of her by pushing in deep, then pulling all the way out so that her pussy lips throbbed needing his dick back inside of her.

"I missed this pussy... so much... taking me so deep!"

His switchblade rested on the middle of her naked spine and tickled her skin purposely.

"Take this dress off!"

He helped her wiggle her arms out of it before unfastening her bra with his hands. Cradling her heavy breasts, he made her cheeks clap as his weapon clattered to the floor. His full concentration was on pleasing her body. Rough wide palms spread her ass cheeks wide as he grunted and pushed down on his thighs to hunch over her.

"Lula, shit... Lula..."

Erik gripped her hips and slammed into her before pulling out and lifting her up. He tossed Lula on the soft lumpy bed, undressed, and plunged back into her. The gold in his mouth glinted above her as he thrust harder and faster knocking the breath out of her body.

Her garter belts bunched up then stretched with her girdlette when he pushed her thighs back.

"Big legged girl... mmmm," he groaned.

He shoved his head down to her folds and sucked on her lower lips before spitting on them and sinking his girth back inside her walls.

"Daddy hittin' that bottom yet?"

"You in there... real deep, Daddy."

"Lemme get deeper..."

Her ankles met her earlobes and the heavy pressure from his dick made her cock-eyed a spilling gibberish from her mouth.

"Oh, Jesus!" she yelped when his fists rested on her sides and he bucked into her, slapping his balls against her ass.

Before he could press his mouth into her swollen pussy again to glisten his face, she clenched up around his dick and squeezed it with rhythmic pulses she had no control over.

"That's a good girl... let that pussy talk to Daddy's dick, Lula."

His eyes watched her contractions yank on his length, and when he finished talking her through her release with high praises and slow wet kisses, he pulled off the rubber and stroked himself against her clit. The silky curls of her pubic hairs were wet with her creamy orgasm and became even wetter when Erik splashed hot cum all over her vulva. His shouts of pleasure filled her with quiet confidence.

"That's it Daddy, cum all over your fat pussy."

He hissed when she said that, and his heated glare encouraged more of his release. A thick rope of semen painted her stomach, and he collapsed on top of her with hard ragged gasps.

"God, I wish I could be in this pussy every day, Lula."

"You could," she said stroking the waves on his hair.

He rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling with her.

"Not with the work I do. I try my best to get here when I can. But shit, baby. If I didn't get this pussy for free, I would pay a fortune for it."

She rolled on her side to look at him, happy that he thought of her like that. His eyes were still on the ceiling, but there was a frown on his face.

"She's in the room, y'know. Up there hiding in the corner."

"Don't say that, Erik. You know it scares me."

"If you did what I told you to do, she'd go away."

"As long as she don't start no foolishness around here, I can live with a ghost."

"Can you? Then how come you're scared?"

"She was my friend. I know she blames me for getting away and not her."

"A good coating of haint blue all around the doors would keep her out..."

"I can't. I can't do that to her. If she's just lingering as a ghost, it makes me feel like she can live a little."

"If you say so."

"Let's not talk about her."

His eyes were still focused on the ceiling, looking at Elizabeth, her childhood friend from so long ago. She couldn't see the dead teenager at all.

"She mad?" Lulabelle asked.

"She loves you. It's why she stays around... floating from room to room... following you."

Lulabelle pulled his chin toward her.

"Don't look. Please."

Erik slipped his tongue in her mouth. A knock at the door interrupted them.

"Lulabelle, sorry to disturb you and your Mister, but I need this room," Tweety Pie squeaked out.

"Give me a minute."

Lulabelle peeled the rubber from Erik's dick and tossed it inside some tissue and chucked it out of the window into a well-placed bucket outside.

"You ruined my panties," she scolded as she jumped up to rinse her privates and stomach in lavender water at a large basin sitting on a maple console table.

She dried her folds and fixed her bra back around her breasts.

"Don't need 'em, I'll be back inside of you soon enough," he said.

Pulling her dress back on, Lulabelle tried to fix her hair and make-up in a mirror.

"You look fine," he said zipping his pants.

Erik picked up his switchblade and opened the door.

Tweety Pie had a new man with her, a handsome young soldier with lust in his eyes.

"Pardon us," Erik said as he guided Lulabelle back to the juke joint.

Lulabelle sat on Erik's lap as he joked with some patrons and slammed back shots of moonshine. She fed him cornbread and pieces of chicken bites with her fingers, and occasionally she would bounce on his hardness that rested against her backside. He tortured her clit with occasional strokes under her dress, but he wouldn't let her cum. That would happen later when he was ready to plunder her pussy once more. Tradition held that he would fuck her at least four more times before he disappeared until the next new moon in the future. She sat on that hard meat all hot and bothered knowing he was going to be cruel by plucking at her bud and sticking his tongue in her ear all night. She watched him dance with a few women and flirt while she checked on her women out back and collected her money, stuffing it in her bra.

Erik was a little too handsy with a couple of fancy ladies and she had to check him. He'd become contentious then, argued with her until she argued him down threatening to cut his balls off if he cheated on her. If she pushed him, just a little too hard, his neck would move in a hostile way that put her in her place and made her drip down her thighs. He liked her mouthy and jealous, but not too jealous if he caught her rubbing her ass against some other patron to provoke him. He'd spank her hard and tell her about herself until she stopped being bratty and soothed his ego. That was his way every time he came to the juke. Arrogant. Loud. Threatening other men who got too close to her, then all seductive when he needed her loving once more.

When no one was looking, Erik unzipped his pants, pulled out his dick and slid her on top of it raw at their private table. Her dress covered the action, and he lifted her up and down.

"You bet not cum," he ordered with harsh breath.

"I won't, I promise," she insisted with clenched teeth.

She was snug on his dick, and the friction was too much to bear. She clutched onto his knees and leaned forward, dropping her weight on his thighs. The rhythm was perfect until a slender man as tall as a Tupelo crept over to their table and sat down. He didn't seem concerned that he was witnessing a woman getting fucked within an inch of her life in the midst of her own rowdy and lascivious establishment.

The man's face was long, and he had long teeth... and long fingers... and long legs... and a long tongue that lolled around in his mouth. He had skin the color of a soft sunset and one big eye in the center of his face. The music and dancing slowed all around her, and all she could see and hear was the long man with his long deep breaths.

"Lulabelle... Lulabelle..." the slender man said, and the voice that spoke her namesake was not pleasant and inviting like Erik's. It was sinister. Conniving. Filthy to her ears.

Erik thrust up into her walls, and she gasped. The slender man smiled with his long teeth, and his one big black eye blinked and Lulabelle fell forward and down into a vortex of hideous darkness until she landed on soft grass in front of the crossroads that led into the dark woods near her juke joint.

"Lulabelle, hurry up! If we don't go now, we'll chicken out!"

Elizabeth ran ahead of her. Dear sweet Elizabeth, eighteen and glowing with a gorgeous figure and good hair, and the good sense to know that Itta Bena was to be left behind. They were going to New York to become showgirls in Harlem, leaving all that country backwoods shit living behind. No sharecropping or cleaning after white folks for them. They were young. Beautiful. Full of life and ready to see the world. That meant crossing through the woods at the old dusty crossroad just as the sun was setting. The last train outta town was due in an hour. Going through the woods was the fastest route to a new life.

But then the slender man came. The Plat Eye. The Haint that haunted the trees and lingered in the darkness deep inside the woods.

Lulabelle, full of eighteen-year-old spunk, dropped her heavy suitcase and pulled Elizabeth back with a hard tug on her arm.

"Dontcha see him, girl?" Lulabelle shouted.

"Oh, he's just another traveler headed outta here too, pick up your suitcase-"

"It's the Plat Eye. You don't see its face. The one eye? The long teeth?"

"You so silly girl! Look at him... just a man tryna run like us."

"No!"

Elizabeth dropped her suitcase and stood with arms all akimbo.

"If you don't wanna go, then say that, Lulabelle."

"You don't see that monster right there?!" she shrieked, and it startled Elizabeth.

The Plat Eye smirked.

"Fine, stay here then you big baby. Hey, Mister, wait up!"

"Elizabeth!"

An arm grabbed Lulabelle's elbow stopping her from running after her friend.

"Don't move, gal."

The voice didn't have Mississippi in it. It was low country and slower than cold molasses. South Carolina lived in it.

"She done made her choice and if you move one inch, I can't protect you."

Lulabelle didn't turn to look at the stranger. His words were wise, and she did as she was told.

"Elizabeth! Come back!"

"It's too late, Lulabelle."

"How you know my name?"

"I've seen you 'round here before with your friend."

She tried to turn around, but firm hands held her shoulders in place.

"Don't hurt me, Mister."

"Nah, I wouldn't do nothin' like that."

The Plat Eye grew taller almost reaching the height of the nearest tree.

"She can't see what it is?"

"She see what she wanna see."

The thing that was as tall as a Tupelo bent down and opened its tall mouth and Elizabeth stepped into the dark maw...

Lulabelle gasped and her thighs sensed the strong muscles of Erik's legs holding her up once more. He fucked her still, hitting her walls harder. His hands gripped her breasts as he grunted and rolled her nipples with agile fingers. The slender man of her past smiled, his greasy lips splitting wide as he was long. That single eye a tainted monstrosity to behold on its face.

The juke joint partied on, and men filed out through the side door to pay their money for an extra good time with her girls. The Plat Eye reached out for Lulabelle's arm and Erik slammed his switchblade down on the table.

"Nah, haint. This one here belongs to me."

The Plat Eye blinked that Cyclops eye in shock and its mouth fell open.

"Should've known you'd be around here," The Plat Eye grumbled sitting back in his chair.

A clammy wetness dampened Lulabelle's neck. Memory boomeranged back into her chest. The low country voice. The strong hands that held her waist so that he could rut into her pussy.

Lulabelle turned her head and the glint from Erik's gold teeth became a glowing source of ethereal light. The full lips and bright white teeth still looked human but the reverb of hidden power sat under the guttural rasp of his voice.

The man from the Crossroads.

The one who stopped her from entering the throat of the Plat Eye and turning into a floating haint that lived in the ceiling like Elizabeth.

The Geechee Man.

"Ya don't play fair," The Plat Eye grumbled again.

"And?" Erik said.

Erik's firm hands skated up her sides and rested on her shoulders. Lulabelle's pussy squelched on his dick all rude and loud. Plat Eye licked his fleshy lips.

"This here the one I wanted. Not that other one—"

Lulabelle snatched up Erik's switchblade and jumped up from his lap. Her pussy throbbed from being removed from his erection. She held the open switchblade against his throat. Why couldn't anyone else in her juke joint see or hear what was happening?

She knew the stories. All kinds of frightening things could be met at a crossroads. And if the Crossroads Man himself showed up—

"Put that down, Lula. It's not a toy to be played with," Erik said zipping up his pants.

The Plat Eye leaned forward and shot his arm out to grab her, but Erik was quicker. He snatched the switchblade back faster from her grip than she could blink, and he slashed the creature's arm. Black festering ooze seeped from the wound and sizzled as it splashed on the table burning holes through the wood.

"Give her to me," the Plat Eye demanded.

Erik stood up and straightened his tie.

"Nigga you ain't getting shit but an ass kicking if you keep playing with me. I told you already. This one is mine. Get on about yourself before I send you on your way to a very bad place."

"There are rules!"

The Plat Eye leapt to his feet and towered over Erik. Not by much though.

"I make the rules," Erik said.

An arrogant chuckle tumbled out of the Plat Eye's mouth. He gripped the lapels of his suit and blinked that one beastly eye. His open wound continued to drip ruining her good table.

"My man," The Plat Eye said and held up his long fingers to placate Erik.

The creature slid out from the juke joint with no one the wiser. Erik turned to face her and Lulabelle jumped away from him.

"Stay back!"

"Lula... c'mon, baby. I've been coming to you ever since you opened this place. Have I ever harmed you once?"

"No."

"I just give you good lovin' when I can."

"That's why you can't be with me all the time?"

He nodded.

"I guard the way, and I open it up. Everywhere."

Lulabelle ran to the bar and made Eva pour her the biggest glass of moonshine possible. She gulped it down. Erik sauntered over to her.

"Don't be scared of me, Lula."

"What are you... really?"

"Your man."

"You ain't no man."

"I'm no demon if that's what you're worried about."

"God forbid if I'd been fucking the devil."

"I'm no devil, girl. Far from it."

He stroked her face.

"Let's go to the back. I need you... right now."

His voice made her insides tingle. This was their time. But how could she go back and make love to... to a what? Spirit? Guardian angel? Supernatural being?

He never did hurt her. And never once did she suspect that he wasn't anything other than a switchblade carrying Geechie that made her backbone slip.

"Are there others?" she asked, "Others like you around here?"

"Always. But you don't have to worry about nothin'. You got me. No one fucks with me.'

"How come you didn't save Elizabeth?"

"She didn't want to be saved."

"But I loved her. She was my best friend. Why would she leave me?"

"She's still here. She'll never leave until you chase her on."

"Is she happy?"

"Like I told you, she loves you. If you're happy, she's happy."

"God won't punish me for being with you, will he?"

"She won't. I promise."

"What about me selling pussy and a little dick?"

"Not even on her mind."

Lulabelle smiled.

Erik slinked over to her and rubbed his big body against hers and nudged his bearded face against her soft cheek.

"How many women have you seduced over the years?"

"You my favorite."

"That didn't answer my question.," she said putting a hand on her hip.

"You wanna argue or get some more dick, gal?"

Lulabelle checked the room. Her patrons were happy and not having a care in the world. Eva cooked more food, Honey Boy kept the girls refreshed in their loving rooms, and the Harvest moon spilled in through the window behind the juke band.

Moonlight bathed Erik's face and he slid his hand under her dress again.

"Daddy needs to take care of you... oh see now, my sweet jewel is all plump again."

He removed his hand and licked his fingers sticky with her essence. She rubbed on his crotch and he gifted her with a hard bulge. His eyes drifted up to the ceiling.

"Elizabeth wants you to get all this," he said grinding against her.

"Can you tell her that I miss her? That I love her?"

"She already knows."

Erik lifted her up and carried her across the rickety bridge and back to the soft lumpy bed.

That's their story, and I ain't tellin' it twice. Lula and her Geechee Man played nice for a long, long time. I keep watch and makes sure that stays true. Until we meet again on the next new moon...

Part 2 "There's Some Whores in This House" HERE.

A.N:

This was a birthday story I wrote for @soufcakmistress back in 2021.

[justabunchofdragons]

s8 e19 spoilers im not normal about this

wilson knowing without hesitation the names, ages, types of cancer, survival expectation and death day of 3 people who died years ago when he sees death every day is so fucking special to me. you know he hasn't forgotten any death in all his years of doctoring

wilson feeds off neediness but would rather kill himself than be pitied. "if there's even a CHANCE i die slowly in a hospital bed being gawked at and lied to about how i look i won't take it" wilson you crazy bastard.

(god there's just something about this reaction vs how house acts when he's hospitalised. i don't have the words or coherence rn but its at least a 500 word essay)

house offering to do it at his apartment (i hate this i love you im putting myself in a position where you can't leave or kick me out because i need you to know i care about you and won't let you be alone)

house explaining how much pain wilson will be in and wilson realising afterwards that he was talking from experience

house saying him and wilson have "all they need" in the apartment after wilson voicing his upset about not having a wife and kids to look after him. this whole episode is just a declaration of love. what even happened with the patient i was NOT paying attention

wilson hallucinating the kid specifically. he wants to suffer because he takes all the death and suffering on his head he DOES feel like he deserves it he just had the simultaneous realisation that he also wants to live ("would i do it all again? make the same mistakes? given half the chance, yes. yes.")

wilson sobbing about not wanting to die in an ambulance, not wanting to die in a hospital. something something amber's last moments being so painfully lucid. so clearly surrounded by death. by the failure of her own body to keep her alive. in that huge white room being able to see the bypass machine keeping her alive. hearing the heart monitor. a bed too small for the two of them. he's seen so many people die in hospitals. he's heard of so many people dying in ambulances. its the desperation of it all. the ultimate place of healing and when it fails it breaks your world into 7 billion little pieces.

something something amber died of the flu wilson the oncologist dying of cancer. "young do gooders shouldn't suffer like that"

house promising not to do it. house not lying about it. house not getting one wink of sleep because he has to check for wilson's chest rising and falling.

house clearly taking wilson's insults to heart but making sure his friend doesn't feel bad about it. head in hands.........

this point has been made to hell and back but house weighing up the vicodin and choosing alcohol instead. 1. he doesn't have a stockpile anymore. and 2. he cares so much. he cares so much. he knows his best friend might be dying on his couch and he doesn't want those last moments to be painful

wilson laughing so hard at house's stupid vacation photoshoot. i wanna bottle that joy up and listen to it when im upset

[celestiaras]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ merry krisis!! ]❜

ft. yu q wilson, vantacrow bringer, vezalius bandage (separate) x f! reader — krisis, nijisanji en

╰₊✧ how do krisis surprise you on christmas morning?┊1k words

contains: smut!! dom vanta, zali & sub wilson┊christmas morning smut wilson - bondage, lube & handjobs vanta - santa cosplay? riding, size kink, breeding zali - kitchen sex, receiving oral

➤ author's note: happy holidays! today i gift you some bad christmas smut i wrote in three hours with three krisis heroes

you haven’t been dreaming of a white christmas in particular, but it was certainly a nice surprise when you opened your eyes to see frost and snow building up behind the glass of the window. you turned on your side to reach out and embrace your lover like you always do, but to your surprise, he wasn’t next to you. he must have woken up before you and was up to something downstairs, you concluded, willing yourself to meet the cold air and perform your morning routine for the special day instead of lounging in bed all day like you always want to.

assuming that villains had the decency to stop their evil activities to allow the city to celebrate, you and your boyfriend will finally be able to spend some much-needed quality time together. being a hero is hard work after all, but it has enabled you both to appreciate the time spent in the other’s company even more. humming a seasonal tune, you leisurely strolled down the stairs and found him waiting with a little surprise for you…

━━━ .°˖✧ yu q. wilson ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ wilson’s plan of surprise required the help of another, and while it was certainly awkward to explain his request to tentapod, the robot just assumed that it was another strange human tradition that came with the winter season and was more than happy to help out. the hardest part was actually just staying still while waiting for you to come down when it’s the crack of dawn and he’s usually the one who sleeps in, causing him to doze off before he could even hear your footsteps. (bonus, art from twitter that inspired this)

he stirred awake and felt groggy, but it disappeared the moment his eyes adjusted to allow him to clearly see you smiling at him in amusement as you experimentally tugged on the red ribbons that tightly coiled around him. he tried to stretch his legs while murmuring a ‘merry christmas,’ but being bound just made him fall over and add to your laughter as you leaned down to kiss him. he was very happy to see that you enjoyed his silly surprise of seeing him wrapped up like this because he was just so cute!

“well… aren’t you gonna play with your new toy?” when did he become so elegant with his words when his go-to pick-up line has always been “do you like bread and water?” you didn’t even notice how eager he was for more of your attention, his erection even more noticeable with how close the straps were tied to his crotch area. he was prepared for this, nudging a bottle of lube that he remembered to grab before he had himself restrained, almost feeling proud of himself for remembering.

you squeezed some of the thick liquid out onto your hand before hooking into the waistband of his pants and dragging it downward to expose his cock, taking him into your touch and watching him shiver from the pleasurable yet cold sensation. wilson’s ears grew hot and his face became tinted pink as you began to jerk him off at a rhythmic pace, running your thumb over his leaking tip. he couldn’t even buck his hips into your touch since you didn’t untie him, but it looked like you were going to keep it this way. seeing him with a bow atop his blonde hair unable to move made you really excited and just like an overzealous child would, you planned to play with your new toy until he broke from exhaustion.

━━━ .°˖✧ vantacrow bringer ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ they call him vantacrow “gift” bringer because he brings the gifts dressed as santa around the holidays, bringing cheer and joy to plenty of children around the city. of course, he didn’t drop down chimneys or anything because being a hero didn’t grant him that much time, but he certainly brought smiles to everyone’s faces. including you, when you found him lounging on the couch in red and white with a silly little hat on his head. despite his usual intimidating appearance, he looked so lovable all dressed up and gesturing you to come sit on his lap just like the real saint nick would (even though a saint probably wouldn’t be as sinful as you two were about to become).

you felt dizzy with the way he sucked on your pulse point letting a moan escape your lips while you worked to meet his hips in the middle, his cock disappearing in your warmth at a brutal pace. every time he pressed into you, you felt like you were being split in half by his size, but the stretch burned so deliciously. he muttered a word of praise about how you always ride him so well before grunting as his hips began to stutter, loudly swearing and clutching on your hips tightly as his hot release flooded into your womb. even though you felt like your legs were about to give out under you, he somehow still had the stamina to keep going, telling you that this was going to continue past noon.

━━━ .°˖✧ vezalius bandage ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ zali is a simple man, but a romantic. he’ll cook you a nice breakfast of all your favorites, the delightful smells and sizzling sounds reaching your senses as you find him dancing around the kitchen while wearing a cheesy “kiss the cook” apron. you’ll sneak up behind him and startle him with a hug from behind, listening to him chuckle as he takes the food off the stove, not even noticing the mistletoe that he hid in his pocket until he cheekily pulls it out above your head.

he hoisted you up onto the countertop (the one without the food on it dw), seating you on the cold marble and giving you a few small kisses scattered on your face before kissing you passionately. he was a bit more enthusiastic than he usually was in the morning, but you could tell what his intentions were when his hand began to ride up your thigh.

first on your lips, then your collarbones, followed by removing your underwear and kneeling down to place his mouth on your pussy to work his tongue at your clit and into your opening. you gripped onto the edge, sucking in your breath as he moved your thighs over his shoulder for easier access to feast between your thighs. he’s pretty sloppy too, saliva mixed with your essence dripping down his chin but keeping eye contact with your face until you spill over. he’ll smile at you all proud of himself too, licking at his lips to savor your taste before wishing you a “merry christmas.”

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Lost & Found

(1-3)

Previously | Next

Short story # 20

Gif NOT mine.

Summary - When you followed your best friend Wade Wilson into the Void, you never expected to cross paths with your lost love, Frank Castle.

Year posted - 2024

Rating - SFW (Though there is talk about some dark themes, including death and attempted suicide.)

Reading time (roughly) - 14 minutes

⚠️Some small spoilers ahead!⚠️

We'll pretend that The Punisher didn't die in the void, and in your timeline you were married to Frank, and he was the one to die with your kids, and you became The Punisher.

Ignoring the blood on the seat, (Y/n) lounged in the far back seat of the Honda Odyssey. "You two are ridiculous, you know that right?" She asked the men who'd just finished their little pissing contest of a fight. "Mhh hufp eh." Wade tried speaking, but the seatbelt secured tightly around his mouth prevented actual words. "No I will not be unbuckling you. I want to get some rest, and I can't do that if you idiots keep fighting. So shut up and go to sleep." (Y/n) sassed her best friend, ignoring Logan when he chuckled dryly. "If I didn't know you'd survive it, I'd have shot you both myself." She added with a huff, closing her eyes in an attempt to sleep. "You're welcome to try sweetheart." Logan mused, a faint grin stretched across his lips. "I'll save my bullets thank you." She sassed, smirking when she heard Wade giggle. "My son's were better behaved than you two." She added in a soft tone, upon hearing her admission Logan cracked open an eye, glancing over at Wade who'd gone uncharacteristically quiet. "Were?" He asked without much thought, unaware of the story behind The Punisher. He opened his eyes further when Wade writhed in an attempt to free himself, grunting and huffing about something. "Another time Wolvie, another time." (Y/n) muttered, regretting having brought it up in the first place.

Wade ceased his struggle, but still muttered to himself. And the more Logan thought on it, the more he realized that something bad must have happened. Something Wade clearly knew all about, considering how hard he had been trying to free himself. "I'm sorry." Logan muttered quietly, hoping she heard him. "You didn't know." She responded, as her arms crossed over the white skull painted across her black body armor. "I shouldn't have said anything in the first place." She added while sleep clawed at her tired mind. Logan hummed in his throat, closing his eyes once more as he relaxed into the reclined seat. "How many did you have?" Logan asked without thought, again making Wade struggle against the seatbelts. "Curiosity killed the cat you know." (Y/n) said as she cracked open her eyes, looking to the older man dressed in yellow. "I'm sorry... I just..." He struggled to find the words, unsure of why he was so adamant in asking questions. "I had two sons." She told him, leaning forward to rest her hand against Wades shoulder, to calm his frantic movement. "I was in the special forces, then I was an FBI agent, and I made a lot of enemies in both lines of work." She sighed softly, locking eyes with Logan when he turned to look at her. "During my last mission things went south, and a young man that shouldn't have been there got killed."

She leaned her elbows on her knees, swallowing the knot in her throat. "His parents were the leaders of this big criminal syndicate, and they wanted payback for the death of their son." She leaned back in her seat. "Their men killed my entire family, during a big family reunion in Puerto Rico. They run my husband and sons down with their truck like animals. Then they tried killing me, shooting me in the chest, and then they blew up the pier, while I lay at the end bleeding out." She exhaled through her nose heavily. "'Bout five months later I hunted them all down one by one, and I saved the father for last, made him kill his best friend and his own wife even. That was all three years ago. I met Wade not long after I finished the job, he actually convinced me not to kill myself." She chuckled bitterly, with a roll of her eyes. "And now look at us, lost in the asshole of the universe." She mused sarcastically, making herself comfortable in her seat again. Wade tried wiggling free again, seemingly determined to comfort his best friend. "Don't worry 'bout me bud, I'm alright." (Y/n) said in a comforting tone, smiling softly when he relaxed again. "Now that's enough story time, go to sleep." She instructed like a mother would, making Logan chuckle with a smile. "You're one tough woman." He said as he relaxed once more.

When the car jolted with movement, (Y/n)'s eyes snapped open. With a quick glance, she noted that Wade and Logan were still passed out. Looking to the drivers seat she saw a girl with dark hair driving the car. The sound of the safety clicking off of (Y/n)'s pistol caught the girls attention, and she locked eyes with (Y/n) through the rearview mirror. "Who are you?" The Punisher asked, unsurprised that Wade and Logan still slept soundly. "A friend." Was all the girl said, and (Y/n) hummed as she clicked the safety back in place. "Hope for your sake, you're tellin' the truth." Was all she said as she holstered her pistol, relaxing into her seat she could tell that they were headed in the right direction. "You're a Punisher?" The girl asked, glancing in the rearview before focusing on the path ahead. "I am." (Y/n) clicked her tongue, unsurprised that there was most likely more Punishers within the Void. Especially considering the way Nova had spoken to her the day prior, as if she'd met her before and considered her a traitor. "There's one at our safehouse." The girl told her as they crest a hill, pointing to an inconspicuous place on the horizon. "He's quiet." She added, and the older woman moved to sit in the passenger seat, careful not to bother the guys as they slept.

"If he's anything like me, he's been through a lot." She said brushing away the broken glass before sitting down. "We all have." The girl said, glancing to (Y/n) who nodded her head in agreement. "I suppose you're right." She glanced back at the guy's. "My names Laura." The girl introduced as she put the car into park. "(Y/n)." She nodded her head, and shifted in her seat when the young girl got out of the beat up car, leaving her behind with the guys who still slept soundly in the back. Sighing under her breath she moved to the back, and pulled her combat knife from the sheath strapped to her thigh. With little effort she cut away the straps keeping Wade pinned to the seat, once he was free she simply slapped him across the face. "Daddy?" Wade muttered as he sat up, shaking his head to shake off the sleep. "Not quite." (Y/n) chuckled before testing her luck and slapping Logan as well. The older man snapped awake with an angry growl, his claws extending from the hand closest to her, and he blindly tried swiping at her assuming it was Wade. (Y/n) however dodged the attack with swiftness, smiling at him when he realized who she was. "You'll have to try harder next time." She mused before pulling the sliding door open, letting herself out. "I thought you were Wade." Logan admitted, as he followed her out, feeling bad that he could have seriously hurt her. "I knew what I was doing." She shrugged before cracking her neck.

"Hey that's just hurtful." Wade cut in as he climbed out of the car, glaring at Logan who scoffed at him. "Where the hell are we?" Logan asked as he observed a door leading to a stairway. "Let's find out." (Y/n) mused as she took the lead, followed closely by Wade who was complaining about a stiff neck. "Hey how exactly did we get here?" Wade suddenly asked as they entered a large room, where people were clearly living. "A friend." Was all (Y/n) said, while she observed the trinkets lying around. "Bullshit." Logan muttered, beelining across the room when he noticed a bottle of liquor. "A friend?" Wade questioned with a small tilt of his head. "Patience bud." (Y/n) mused with a faint grin, noting the sound of approaching footsteps from the stairway. "You know I think that's what I like best about you both." Wade pointed to (Y/n). "You always call me bud." He then pointed to Logan. "And you call everyone bub." He then placed his hands on his hips. "It's cute." He added making both Logan and (Y/n) roll their eyes. Before Logan could make a remark, several people made their entrance, and with each person Wade became increasingly excited. Apparently he knew something neither (Y/n) or Logan knew. But when the fourth person descended the stairs coming into view, (Y/n) dropped the glass jar she'd been holding.

Logan glanced at her, and Wade gasped in shock. "No way." He rushed to his best friends side, latching onto her arm like an excited kid. "(Y/n)?" The man breathed out, looking just as stunned as she did. Logan glanced between them, noting the matching gear and decorative skulls. "Frank." She whispered his name, the both of them rushing across the room immediately after to embrace. "How are you here? Alive?" Frank asked as he pulled away from the embrace, to hold her face between his hands. "I could ask you the same thing." She breathed out, her eyes glossy and her throat tightening. Without another word he pulled her into a kiss, both of them pouring their heart and souls into the kiss as if it were their last. "Okay the kids are watching." Wade called out just as Frank's hands drifted down (Y/n)'s back, and when he realized what he'd said he winced as if he'd been stabbed. "Who's he?" Frank asked as they parted again. "A friend. He's kept me sane after..." She said as her hands drifted down his chest to trace the iconic skull. "You're not really her are you?" He asked as he brushed his thumb across her jaw. "And you're not really him." She muttered as she leaned into his touch. "What happened to you?" Frank asked. "Same thing that happened to you by the looks of it." (Y/n) placed her hand over his heart.

"(Y/n)." Wade called out her name softly, drawing the attention of both Punishers to him. "Right." She sighed softly. "We need your help." She looked back to her husband, then to the others that stood on the other side of the room. "All of your help actually." She said as she pulled away from Frank, who was reluctant on letting her go. "Our universe is dying." She explained, only to get cut off by Blade. "I don't give a shit about your universe." He retorted, and Frank glared at him. "Some heroes you all are." She shot back with a scowl. "Whether you care or not, billions of people are going to die needlessly, and there's a chance you can help change that." She looked to Frank, taking a small step back she held her arms out. "I'm no hero, I'm a killer. It's all I've ever been, and it's all I'll ever be. But when someone threatens to kill off my entire universe, I will die trying to stop them. Not for myself, but for them. All of them, the ones that can't defend themselves, the ones that need a goddamn hero, and the ones who will never know of the sacrifices made to keep them safe." (Y/n) looked back to Wade, dropping her arms back to her sides. "I have nothing left to fight for in my universe, but I am still willing to try saving it for those who do." She then looked back to the others. "And if you all would rather sit here and rot away in the asshole of all the universes that's fine." She looked between each of them.

"But I refuse to just sit back and claim it's not my problem, so I'll go back out there. And I'll probably die trying my damnedest to get Wade and Logan passed Nova, but I will die doing what's right, and I will die knowing that I at least tried to do the right thing." (Y/n) said as she took another small step back, and then turned to Wade. "Cap would be jealous." Wade joked, trying to lighten the mood. (Y/n) simply rolled her eyes at her friend despite the small smile on her face. "No I'm serious, I've got tears." He said as he pointed to his masked face. "I'm going with you." Frank said as he moved closer to his wife. "I couldn't save the version of you in my universe, but if there's a chance I can protect you, to save you." He took her face between his hands again. "I'll do whatever it takes." He promised before resting his forehead against her own. "I like her." Gambit said, with a nod of his head. "I'm in." He concluded as he flipped a card between his fingers. "Yeah okay, I'm in too." Elektra agreed as she rest her hands on her hips. "Fuck it anything is better than sitting around in this shithole, I'm in." Blade said as he messed with one of his knives.

"Who knew you were so good at speeches." Wade said with a giggle, yanking (Y/n) away from Frank in his excitement, so he could jump around with her in his arms. "You're all gonna fucking die." Logan said before taking another swig of the liquor he'd been nursing. "Maybe, but atleast we'll have died fighting for something." (Y/n) retorted as she shrugged Wade off. "I'm coming as well." A fifth voice called out, as she entered from another room. Wade gasped in surprise, looking to Logan as he pointed to the girl. "That's X-23." He told him, but Logan didn't seem to care much. "Her names Laura." (Y/n) corrected Wade, who did a dramatic double take. "You know her?" He asked with a small tilt of his head. "She's a friend." (Y/n) told him with a faint grin, holding back a laugh when Wade shouted with excitement. "I don't know how you put up with him." Frank muttered. "He takes some getting used to, but he kinda just grows on you after a while." She said as she smiled to her husband. "Look I know you're not the Frank from my universe, but I just..." Her smile faded. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you, and our boys." Her eyes drifted to the floor, the pair of them oblivious to what was going on around them. "Hey hey look at me." He encouraged as he tilted her head up. "I know you tried your hardest, he knows that you tried your hardest. Don't ever forget that." He kissed her forehead, before pulling her into his arms, her head tucked under his chin. "Thank you." She whispered softly, trying to ignore the tears welling in her eyes.

Previously | Next

[all-pacas]

ok i was trying to nap because i'm sick and i couldn't sleep and instead i was thinking about house medical doctor. and like. ok. chase is my special favorite, right? i want to punch him in his face, right?

-

I was thinking, though. It's easy to… smooth over and buff out characters to make them more appealing. To focus on traits and interpretations that you like. And to be clear I do think Chase has a lot of good qualities, both in terms of being a likeable character (he's clever! He doesn't take himself that seriously and isn't ego driven, unlike many others in the cast!) and being a fun character to watch (he's always pulling weird faces or being sarcastic!).

But he also has some real fucking character flaws, so let's talk about them. Because I want to. Because I don't like smoothing people out to fit a Narrative. I want to talk about his apathetic moral vacancy.

Like. Chase is apathetic. He truly and honestly doesn't give a shit about other people a lot of the time. He's not aggressive about it, he's not cruel — he tends to be fairly polite, although he's not great at hiding it ("the nurse's phone can take pictures!" "………cool"), he doesn't often talk shit. When he dislikes a patient, he at least tries to hide it (contrast with Foreman, who genuinely sucks at this). But that doesn't mean he cares. He is absolutely fine with lying to patients (Post Mortem), or with billing people for tests and not telling them (Safe). He doesn't care if that's shady. He's super ethically flexible, is the only one of the fellows to be openly pro euthanasia, has zero moral issue with treating Dibala. This clearly isn't because Chase believes so strongly that being a doctor should make you neutral to petty political beliefs, he just… doesn't care much. It doesn't bother him. I don't think he'd go out of his way to be harmful or cruel to someone, but he also isn't going out of his way to help them either.

While we do see him advocating for his patients and getting involved now and then (mostly with children), he never really has any moments where he takes a stand or fights for someone. Cameron, by contrast, does this constantly (The Itch, Acceptance, Fidelity…). Foreman also has several episodes (Fools For Love, Whac-A-Mole, a lot of his S3 development tbh) where he finds and bonds with and over-invests in a patient. The closest Chase ever comes to "getting way too involved in someone's life because he cares" is Moira in Chase, and she's preeeetty explicitly called out as him rebounding and acting out; he's doing the Wilson-Amber reinvent yourself after trauma thing, and it wears off pretty quickly. In Cameron and Foreman's cases too, it's more about their personal issues than the patient in question… but Chase's situation was really about him.

Speaking of being morally vacant! When Cameron might be infected with HIV (Hunting), he expresses some concern and House immediately mocks him for being fake. I don't actually know that it was (he certainly keeps up the thread of suggesting she should take some time off, he's not just being performative), but it's telling that the first reaction to Chase showing concern for anyone is "lol, who are you kidding?" Cameron accuses him later that of not being a good guy. She wants to get laid and live life on the edge, and the person that jumps to her mind when she wonders "who would be down for doing me on meth" is Chase. Nor is she wrong. Chase is an opportunist. Tritter calls him one, and Tritter is correct. He rats to Vogler to save his job, and is barely sorry for it; I'm not sure he ever apologizes. Everyone expects he'll immediately run to Tritter and a huge source of tension in Finding Judas is that Chase can't win: Foreman and Cameron already assume he has, that he's too spoiled and weak to not. Later in S3, when Cameron propositions him, he again goes "free sex?" and signs up, despite calling her out on what a demeaning offer she's making. He tends to pick the easier options. He stays a diagnostics fellow for years longer than anyone else, because it's a safe space. It's easy. He'd rather be a follower than take any risks. (I think there is no room for a reality where he refused his dad's money out of spite or pride. Why would he refuse a trust fund? It's easy. It's right there.)

We actually do see him lash out and stand up for himself here and there. He pushes back against Cameron a few times, actually (Act your Age, Saviors, Teamwork), and he's also pushed back against Foreman and House. But it's only for himself. I can't think of a time he went far out of his way to defend one of his coworkers, or his boss, or a patient. He did get mad enough to, uh, kill, when Dibala threatened Cameron. Which: fair enough? But he doesn't care much for things outside of his immediate influence. He has no problem shrugging off Cuddy in Living the Dream, or an armed gunman in Last Resort. He has no moral stances or political beliefs that we know of (besides, uh, fat people suck and the US immigration system is annoying). He very much does care about people, he's pretty clear that at least some of his apathy is a defense thing after a deeply fucked up childhood, but it's always despite himself. He prefers to do his job and go home. There's an old not-joke about how all surgeons have god complexes. Chase being a surgeon is kind of a retcon, and in a lot of ways he doesn't fit the stereotype — he's not particularly arrogant or superior, he's not even ambitious. He does get touchy about being called wrong, or accused of making mistakes, but I don't think he's any worse than the others on that front (or more prone to making mistakes). But that indifference? His sort of general aloofness? He cares about himself, and his little circle, and watches his own back, and that's it. He doesn't dislike other people, but he doesn't care much either way. Foreman accuses him of being fake. Everyone accuses him of being morally vacant, an opportunist who will do anything if it improves his own situation. And… yeah. Kinda.

[jenniferlawrencelover]

All I Want For Christmas is You (Deadpool Edition)-CHAPTER ONE

Pairing: Wade Wilson/Logan Howlett/Worst! Wolverine

Rating: Explicit (MDNI)

Summary:

Wade never thought he would be engaged again.

And he wasn’t.

Yet.

Wade never thought he would be engaged again.

And he wasn't.

Yet.

*

DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS: 26

"Bub, if you don't move your ass out of my face—"

"You weren't saying that last night, sugar butt," Wade shot back with a grin, wiggling his hips just to be annoying. He was balanced precariously on a stepladder, trying to hang a glittery, excessively large tree topper. It was a special ornament to Wade because it was the first thing Wade had stolen for Logan after he saw it in the window of some fancy-ass home decor shop downtown. Wade knew that Logan would absolutely hate it, and therefore he knew he just had to have it. It helped that technically he was already banned from this particular store, because what were they going to do? Ban him again? You can't double-ban him.

Logan did call the cops on him for theft when he brought it home because he's an asshole, but that was neither here nor there.

The ladder wobbled as Wade pushed up to his tiptoes, and Logan's hand shot out and held onto Wade's legs to keep him from toppling over. "You're gonna knock the whole damn tree over," Logan grumbled, eyeing the ornament that Wade was determined to hang despite it being several sizes too big for the spot.

"But think about how majestic it'll look!" Wade finally managed to secure the topper, hopping down from the ladder with a flourish. "Voila!"

Wade took a step back, admiring their work. The tree was a monstrosity of clashing colors and mismatched ornaments. Some baubles dangled precariously from flimsy branches, while others were wedged in tight clusters as if a miniature ornament explosion had occurred. The base was an overstuffed jumble of tinsel, clashing with the bold, mismatched garlands draped haphazardly across its branches. The strands of lights, a patchwork of different colors and sizes, flickered erratically as if they were struggling to make sense of their tangled surroundings. At one point, Wade had seen a spark come from a few of the bulbs, but he was sure that wouldn't be a plot point that was of anything of importance (hint: it was).

The ornaments themselves were oversized, glittery baubles in electric blue and neon pink, intermixed with tiny glass figurines of reindeer and snowmen that seemed to be fighting for space on the same branch. A collection of homemade ornaments—some crafted with excessive amounts of glue and glitter, and all created by moi—were proudly displayed, hanging at odd angles. Among these were paper angels and beaded snowflakes that had clearly seen better days.

At the top of the tree, the crowning glory was the topper Wade had stubbornly hung—a massive, shimmering star that looked like it had been stolen from a Vegas showgirl's headdress. It was practically drowning in sparkles and sequins, casting a dazzling, if somewhat blinding, light that flickered across the room.

The tree skirt, a gaudy mishmash of red and green sequins, was barely visible under the heap of presents Wade had insisted on wrapping in overly festive, holiday-themed paper with garish ribbons. The whole setup was completed with a few hastily strewn candy canes and an abundance of stray glitter that would inevitably find its way into every crevice of their apartment.

Logan crossed his arms, his eyebrows knitted together in a familiar expression of disapproval. "It's an eyesore."

"An eyesore?" Wade exclaimed, feigning shock. "This is a masterpiece! You know, people pay big bucks for this kind of thing."

Logan snorted, unconvinced. "People like you, maybe. I've seen better decorations at a fucking dollar store."

Wade reached up to adjust a strand of lights that had come loose, his fingers deftly rearranging them until they were just right. "Well, I think she's beautiful. And if you will be a good Wolvie and actually help me, maybe later you can even stuff my stocking."

"You're fucking disgusting," Logan snarled.

Wade grinned cheekily, still fiddling with the decorations. "Oh, come on. It's Christmas. I'm just trying to spread a little holiday cheer." He glanced at Logan with a mischievous glint in his eye. "And I know how much you love my festive cheer."

"And by that-"

"And by that, I mean this sweet, sweet ass sugar gum drop," Wade crooned, tucking himself into Logan's warm, broad chest. They stood there for a moment, the soft glow of the Christmas lights casting a warm mirage of light over the room. Wade sighed contentedly, his head resting against Logan's chest. Logan didn't reply, but his arms tightened around Wade.

"You know, we should probably christen the tree properly," Wade remarked, eyes fixated on the flickering lights.

Wade was a huge fan of christening things. Everything had to be christened. Everything. New suit after it was destroyed in a particular marathon of rough sex after a mission? Christened. Logan finally upgraded from a flip phone to an iPhone? Christened. Just bought milk? Christened. 

Did it have to do with the fact that his boyfriend had a body sculpted by the gods and a libido that could match a rabbit high on an aphrodisiac? No, and actually, it's offensive that you would think Wade would reduce his boyfriend down to his sex appeal. What kind of monster do you think he is? Wade's relationship with Logan was multi-faceted, like a diamond with a thousand facets—

You know what? Fine. So what? Is it a crime that Wade likes to have long, raunchy, maybe a little masochistic, probably a little too rough for Disney, outdo-50-Shades-of-Grey-and-eat-your-heart-out-BDSM-etiquette sex with his boyfriend? It's not like Logan's complaining—well, except when he pretends to be exasperated with Wade, which is just part of his charm. Get off his ass, or maybe eat it while you're down there.

Wade's lips brushed Logan's ear as he whispered in a sultry, teasing voice, "Maybe a few strategic baubles to enhance the mood. I could even drape some tinsel over us like a sexy holiday blanket. Just me, you, some eggnog—"

"You mean that shit you made in the blender? I don't think eggnog is supposed to be that color."

"It's a festive green. Besides, I added extra nutmeg. Trust me."

Logan gave him an unconvinced look, clearly not buying it.

"Come on," Wade whined, turning around in Logan's arms and pouting up at him. "It's Christmas-"

"It's not Christmas, it's November."

"-I've even put up some Mistletoe. Are you really willing to disrespect the ritualistic customs of Mistletoe? What kind of monster are you?" Wade says aghast, clutching at the invisible pearls.

Logan didn't respond at first, his gaze scanning the room before flickering back to Wade. "I don't see any mistletoe."

Wade wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, his grin widening. "It's hidden. Wanna take off my pants and find out where?"

Snikt

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

Birthday Kissies - James Wilson x peds!reader

description - a spanner is thrown into the works of the special birthday James has been planning for y/n for months. A spanner which happens to be a fever of 109.

word count - 1.9k

requested - yes

authors note - I'm literally living my dreams through these fanfictions! I know its not ambiguous but a lot of the little specifics I mention are stuff I'd love for someone to do on my birthday that I used so I could come up with a good visual. Please do let me know if I can make my writings more accessible to people in anyway!

Masterlist

Wilson giddily skipped through the hospital. He’d been on the edge of his seat all day. Tomorrow was the most important day in his calendar. January 4th, his loves birthday.

The hospital was still adorned in Christmas decorations, but this didn’t faze him. In his mind, December 25th was inferior in comparison to the magnificence of her birthday. He remembered the first birthday they’d shared together which happened to be his.

She’d woken him up with homemade pancakes, but they weren’t as delicious as the many kisses shed pecked onto his face. He didn’t hear anything she’d said as he looked on at the beauty who was practically straddling him wearing a plastic tiara and placing a birthday crown on his own head. But that may have also been caused by the party horn she’d woken him up with. Despite her being a doctor, she hadn’t thought through the ramifications of a party horn placed directly against someone’s ear. She’d happily thrown at him all his presents which had been carefully wrapped and decorated with ribbons and bows. All the gifts had a specific theme of blue and white with ‘doctor’ inspired wrapping paper. It was clearly meant for a child but her giddy face when she proudly showed them off won him over. His favourite gift had been an original film poster of ‘Dead Poets Society’.

“I remember you saying how much that film meant to you. I also already bought a frame for it so we can hang it up in your office tomorrow. If you want to.” She exclaimed whilst bouncing on the bed.

“Birthdays are important.” She’d said as they lay intertwined with their matching crowns, scoffing down the pancakes. “On that day, I can show the most important people in my life how much I love them.” She grabbed his cheeks and squished them together.

“Did your birthdays look half as good as this when you were a kid.” She faltered.

“Not really. No one should ever feel like that on their special day, so I try to make sure no one ever does.”

He’d collected the last card from her patients. The first thing he’d thought of as a gift for her was to ask all the children under her care to make something for her special day. There were a lot of cards, all decorated with glitter and ribbons. He’d specifically told Sadie she could make y/n a birthday crown. Sadie had been here for three years on and off and had a special relationship with y/n. It was only fitting she should get the honour of making the crown. It seemed to Wilson that as soon as you mentioned the name y/n y/l/n, children, parents, and doctors would come flooding, offering their help in any capacity. Every patients room he had gone into he was given two things: a handmade card from the kids and a beautifully wrapped present from the parents. Wilson smiled at this; no other doctor was as loved as she was, not even himself.

He was making his way back to his office, his elaborate plan was coming together. He sat down at his desk and went over the checklist he’d made for her surprise. 5 bouquets of pink roses, 3 bouquets of yellow tulips, chocolates, and macaroons from a patisserie in Paris they had visited on their anniversary, and about 100 pink and white balloons he was going to fill their apartment with. He’d already gone out shopping early this morning to get the ingredients to make her favourite meal and dessert. The icing on the cake, as it were, was the three layered chocolate cake decorated in white chocolate frosting, adorned with chocolate dipped strawberries. He’d had it ordered especially months ago and it was arriving tomorrow morning. After making sure everything was ordered and in place he relaxed into his chair. Closing his laptop, he picked up the shopping bag at his feet. He pulled out the stuffed pink bear he’d made for her, adorned in its little doctors outfit. Looking at it now, he felt silly. Surely, she’d be wanting jewellery or something like that. He’d thought it was cute at the time but now he felt embarrassed at his choice of gift.

The door to his office was ripped open. This caused Wilson to scramble to hide the bear back in the bag. House limped in.

“Please tell me you have actually bought y/n/n a present. You are not going to ruin her special day.”

“No, I have not.”

“I will give you the money, will you please jus—”

“I think you have more important things to worry about. Room 203.”

-x-x-x-x-x-

The two stood on the precipice of the room and watched the sniffling, whimpering, and writhing frame of y/n. She sloshed about on the bed, kicking away her blankets like a petulant child.

“Ah the true test of true love, a bad case of the flu. Enjoy lover boy.” House patted Wilson on the back and made to leave.

“Wait, what are you doing?”

“Getting as far away as possible. She can insult me enough when she’s in perfect health, I don’t want to see how severe it gets with a temperature of 109.” House quickly sprinted down the corridor as fast as his cane could take him. Wilson rolled his eyes at his friends fear of his utter sweetheart. This wasn’t his first rodeo with a sick y/n. All she wanted was love and attention. He was always happy to help.

The patient noticed the tall frame of her boyfriend in the door. She turned over towards him, bunching up her blankets into her body.

“Jamsey. I’m sick.”

“I know, darling.” He made his way over, giggling at the innocent tone of her voice. She squished herself further into the bed to make room for him to join her. “But we’re gonna get you better okay.” He placed his arm around her, and she cuddled into his side.

“But what about my patients.”

“Hey, none of that now. My main priority is you.” He smiled softly at how her eyes couldn’t even stay open till the end of the sentence. Her body was fighting so hard to stay awake, but it needed to stop. Even without the flu she’d been overworking herself recently. Her body needed the rest.

“I’m just sad you’re going to be feeling like this on your birthday.” Her eyes still hadn’t opened but her body had involuntarily snuggled into his side more, making their embrace tighter.

“As long as you’re with me, it’ll be perfect.” She slurred as sleep overtook her. “You are going to stay right?” her last thought before she was dragged further into her snooze.

He planted a gentle kiss on the crown of her head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

-x-x-x-x-x-

*the next morning*

Wilson knocked on room 203. Y/n was now sat up and tucking into the tea and toast she’d been given for breakfast. Despite how much her eyes lit up when they landed on James, her face still looked sunken.

“Good morning baby, how are you feeling?”

“A bit better.” She’d softly uttered as he made his way over to her. She attempted to straighten out her messy hair and wipe away the sleep from her eyes. She fixed her gown, not wanting him to see her as any less than perfect. But the joke was on her as he already saw her as the most beautiful girl in the world.

“I felt so guilty in our bed, leaving you here alone.” He had begged her to let him stay the night with her, even setting up a faux bed in the form of four hospital chairs and a pillow. But she had ordered him to go home and sleep in a proper bed, threatening him with no sex for a month. It was bad enough he would have had a bad back from the chairs, but he had already worked a 10 hour shift that day, she knew he deserved a good night’s sleep.

“Well, you’re here now, and I’m so happy.” She softly kissed his cheek with her arms wrapped around his neck. He turned in her arms, aiming for her lips but she stopped him with her hand.

“Nooooo, I’m sick.” He shrugged away her hand and leant in.

“We’ll be sick together then.” Their lips locked. They each tried to suck out the others soul and their tongues clashed for dominance with y/n eventually relenting. The 12 hours between when James had left last night and now had been excruciating for the pair.

They eventually came apart for air. “I nearly forgot.”

He left her room and returned with a trolley filled with delicately wrapped pink gifts, each one adorned with a massive white ribbon. The trolley was also covered with pink and white balloons tied to each handle. She squealed at this display, practically jumping up and down on the bed, having to be calmed down by James who soothed her cheers with a kiss to the cheek.

“Happy birthday, baby.”

“This is amazing, James. Thank you!” she grabbed the sides of his face to bring him down into a passionate kiss, whilst continuing to utter how much she loves him.

He sat with her on her bed as she thumbed through all the cards from her patients. Each one received a sunny smile and some even elicited a few tears. She proudly wore the crown from Sadie which she compared to something off of a fashion show. All 29 of the gifts were eagerly ripped open. In between each one, she scolded him for buying her too much, but this juxtaposed how furiously she tore into each new gift. He had to remind her that a lot were from colleagues and parents, which warmed her heart.

They reached the end, and she was surrounded by wrapping paper and ribbon.

“There is one more.” He pulled out the bear, hidden at the bottom of the trolley. He began fidgeting with it in his lap, suddenly feeling small in the face of all the previous gifts. “It’s silly but I thought it was cute and I thought you might like it and--”

“YOU GOT ME A TEDDY BEAR!” she threw her arms around him at breakneck pace. When she pulled back, she carefully took the bear from his arms and squeezed it into her chest. She turned it around and giggled at the doctors outfit it was dressed in. “I love it so much! It’s just like the one on your shelf!”

He shuffled so he was sat behind her and took her into his arms. They both gazed down lovingly at the bear. “She’s gonna be our baby. I’ll be her mummy and you can be her daddy and she’s gonna come to work with mummy every day.” She clasped the bear against her chest once again. Wilson sighed at the mess around her hospital room. He began to collect a few fallen pieces of wrapping paper preparing to throw them away. His eyes glanced towards the closed door and saw a pink envelope partially stuck under the door. He picked it up and saw ‘Mrs Wilson’ scribbled across the front. He smiled knowing the one person who called y/n that.

“One more. From House.” He handed her over the envelope. She opened it up and audibly gasped.

“What is it?”

“HE GOT US A SKIING TRIP!” James’ ears were covered in seconds to prevent his ears from being permanently damaged, once again. As she went on and on about the trip which had all been paid for by House, he joined her on the bed and gradually encouraged her to lie down with him, knowing how much her body needed the rest. He gathered her up in his arms and let her tire herself out so she could then slump into his arms and drift off to sleep.

[organ-market]

Weird White Men That Defy Classification: The Television Genre

How To with John Wilson, 2020

When you sit down to watch an episode of television it’s a real shot in the dark, you pray to find something truly special yet you brace yourself for potential mediocrity. The day I took a chance on 2020’s How To with John Wilson I sat on my couch, eyes glued to the screen, absolutely mesmerized. For those not in the know, How To with John Wilson is this odd thing that exists, it follows the daily exploits of New Yorker, John Wilson, as he goes around the city showing us how to do a certain task. At the same time it is absolutely not a walkthrough tutorial as rarely will I be able to execute the task described by the title card by the end of each episode. Likewise, the show isn’t really about the man named John Wilson as much as it is a lovely stroll through the people he meets on the street, the charming places he explores, and the little glitches in the matrix that stand out to him.

A typical episode of the show is more like a flowing conversation than a narrative arc, it branches out from its origins to go someplace entirely foreign and new. An episode about wine tasting leads to Bang energy drinks, scented bowling balls, and a lavish mansion party complete with historical wardrobe. John Wilson frequently interviews the everyday people on the street that we’ve all spent our lives passing by. He often highlights little niches in the city as he brings us to a fan club infatuated with James Cameron’s Avatar who go as far to learn the language and in another episode we explore the first ever Mandela Effect Convention. No matter how odd, John Wilson treats these spaces with respect and gives off an eager enthusiasm to learn more.

It is a show that defies classification and genre conventions. Sure it is technically a documentary but the genre usually insinuates an informative motive which is hardly the case for How To with John Wilson. If the show isn’t intending on spewing a steady stream of factual information then is it a reality television show which markets itself primarily on entertainment? Well, while thoroughly entertaining, John Wilson’s nasally narration and awkward insights aren’t the traditional host. It is a comedy that had me constantly laughing throughout its runtime and yet it is interested in so much more than just giving the audience a chuckle. Try as I might, I could not place this show in a box and I adore that about it, and in my search for quality programming I’ve found some other shows that similarly leapt out of each box I put it in. The only connection between all them besides having my undying adoration is that they prominently feature weird, extremely awkward white men talking at you.

The Rehearsal, 2022

Nathan Fielder’s 2013 comedy hit, Nathan For You, had me flabbergasted by its absurdity and awkward wit. While more clearly defined in the square labels of comedy there is something about Nathan Fielder’s persona that makes you want to unpack whatever the hell is going there. Nathan For You follows Nathan Fielder, a graduate from one of Canada’s top business schools, as he gives out business advice to real life struggling local businesses in the Los Angeles area. The only thing is, he's awkward and his solutions to their problems often read more like goofy schemes out of a cartoon than sound business advice. There is a mix of reality and fabrication as you are never really sure if what Nathan is saying is sincere or not as he constantly gives half truths and lies to the audience, the people around him, and perhaps himself all at the same time. His outlandish persona is juxtaposed with the business owners who reluctantly go along with his plots and blatantly unpolished ideas. One episode has discount Santa Claus pictures in the summer following the idea of how jackets are cheaper during the summer season.

The little oddities in Nathan For You become the core focus of Nathan Fielder’s latest TV venture. 2022’s The Rehearsal vehemently defies classification, it expands on his persona established in his previous work and blends reality and fabrication to a new degree. The premise of the show is a bit difficult to even explain, like Nathan For You he helps everyday people but rather than giving business counsel he allows real people to “rehearse” a scenario. Some episodes involve having a difficult conversation with a friend or simulating what it’s like to raise a child. It’s still a documentary, reality comedy but there is an earnest dedication to recreating and simulating the conversations and scenarios Nathan clients demand. Nathan creates an exact replica of a bar in episode one of the series, stains and all, in another he fabricates a relationship between one of his client’s and an actor posing as another actor’s grandfather to recreate something as abstract as feelings. This is a show that dissects the reality of its own production, peeling open layer after layer leaving us with something entirely unique.

In that way The Rehearsal is oddly transparent about its own continued creation, Nathan is open to showing us the monitors behind the scenes, the child labor laws that cause Nathan to have multiple actors for the same child, and the fact that extras can't talk which forces Nathan to have a completely silent birthday party in one episode. It is constantly reopening its own veins and reinventing itself, the core premise is under constant development as the show goes on. It’s an entertainment Frankenstein of mismatched ideas and concepts all slamming into each other creating dichotomy after dichotomy. Nathan draws out the acting we all do in everyday life through a show about rehearsing while Nathan is simultaneously playing a character. And yet sometimes he acts with such a sincerity the audience never knows what to expect. The final episode of The Rehearsal is absolutely dizzying in its conundrum, the lines of reality become marred as we follow a child actor who’s too young to even know he’s acting and Nathan being forced to confront this blatant contradiction. It is a supremely daunting task to write about that final episode and honestly I can barely wrap my head around it. I don’t want to spoil it too much but it is unlike anything I have ever seen and I highly encourage you to give The Rehearsal a chance.

Joe Pera Talks with You, 2018

The final show in this little bundle of uncategorizable strangeness is Adult Swim’s Joe Pera Talks with You from 2018. It’s the only show on here I haven’t finished as I remain in the midst of season 2, hoping to really take it slow and appreciate every little moment but rest assured from episode one I was absolutely hooked. Like How To with John Wilson the premise is much more slice of life but unlike the other two, this is completely scripted. It’s offbeat and awkward as the titular Joe Pera excitedly talks about whatever is on his mind in a somehow passionate monotone. Things just seem to happen the way our everyday happenings occur. There comes a ringing at the doorbell that introduces a new cast of characters or a conga line waiting to be partaken in. Inside of these natural happenings is delivered a wonderful simplicity, Joe Pera Talks with You ignores the narrative necessity for conflict during the majority of its runtime. I often braced myself for a cringe inducing failure in moments where Joe Pera is forced to dance or when he’s reading the church announcements. Miraculously, he never trips and falls or gets booed off the stage and although not everyone he interacts with is always happy to meet him, he doesn’t seem to mind one bit. 

That might be my favorite thing about Joe Pera, his unconventional happiness that is soothing to my occasionally anguished soul. Whenever life beats me down I just turn on an episode of Joe Pera Talks with You, his indifference to people’s expectations of what a good life is supposed to resemble reassures me that everything is going to be alright. It reassures me that I am enough. It’s a message I’m not used to when consuming media, much less a show that aired on Adult Swim. It is heartfelt and simple and enough to fill my heart and lull me into a lazy night after even the most stressful of afternoons.

I do hope at least one person reading this takes a shot in the dark and watches an awkward white man talk to them for about half an hour. These are all delightful shows that oddly feel, at least for me, paired together despite their differences. Season 3 of How To with John Wilson premiers July 28, 2023 and I for one am absolutely stoked for what this man tells me next. There’s talk of a second season of The Rehearsal in the works as well. I implore you to check at least one of these shows out! If you see any awkward white men talking about interesting things do let me know so I can grab my popcorn, thanks in advance and stay tuned besties <3

-Ghost Emoji 👻