#determined to do all his own shit without any money from his family

[willowser]

Willow! I really, really, love step-dad touya, but I must admit I am especially fond of single dad touya x teacher reader. it’s probably my favorite scenario ever, so soft and sweet— I think about it so much haha. I guess this question might apply to both scenarios though, and maybe you’ve spoken on it before and I’ve missed it! but I was wondering what you picture touya doing for a living in each of these au’s. i remember one about him being a tattoo artist in a divorce au, would you see him doing the same as a single dad? or maybe something else? I’m not really sure where I’d place him, I think the tattoo/piercer still fits, but I could also maybe see something blue collar? an auto mechanic or something of the sort perhaps.

i also love single dad touya x teacher reader 🥺🥺 it is such a sweet, soft pairing, i so agree with you !!🥺✨️ honestly, there are a few jobs that i just see him doing interchangeably, throughout them all !! especially bc in just about every touya modern au, i picture him as an ex-criminal 💀💀 occasionally fighting addictions of some kind 💀💀 and i think i am drawn to that, as sad as it is, bc i love to see my boy winning, know what i mean ?? like yes he falls off the wagon every now and again but !! he's trying !! and he's doing much better than he was before !!! and he did some things he maybe shouldn't have done, but he's done his time !! and he's just — living a new life, you know ?? 🥺 and i love that for him 🥺 BUT ANYWAY

bc i imagine him with a criminal record, i don't imagine him having an office job or anything akfjskdja maybe he tried for a little while, bc he wanted the stability, but — can you imagine having this man as your customer service representative ?? 💀💀 so i typically picture him working as a bartender or, yes, a tattoo artist !!! i have never considered blue-collar worker tho ?? and omg ???? I LOVE THAT !!!!! auto mechanic sounds so 🥺🥺🥺 him in one of those little blue jumpsuits 🥺 hands a little greasy 🥺🥺🥺

i definitely see him doing those things as a single dad ! i like to think that, whatever he does, he makes decent money !! majority of it goes to his kid(s) !! bc it's just him in a two-bedroom apartment, so he doesn't want for much, and if his baby wants to be in gymnastics or ballet or baseball — HE'S GONNA FIGURE IT OUT !!! 😤 gonna give them the childhood he didn't have !! 😤

aww aww imagine having to take your car in for an oil change or something and you roll down the window and there he is 🥺 all cute and a bit sweaty, hands dirty 🥺 giving you the little smirk aitnriejakqk like, "i know you, miss pretty teacher 😏" AAAAHHH I LOVE HIM !!!

[arliedraws]

Go on about Sirius and Benjy I am listening

Well, I went down a Benjy Fenwick hc rabbithole and created a backstory, so thank you for that

Benjy Fenwick comes from a working class seaside town in North Yorkshire. His father is a mechanic and his mother works part time as a cashier. Benjy’s the oldest of five children—he and his youngest brother (born when Benjy is about twelve) are the only siblings with magic. But he almost didn’t go to Hogwarts because he could hardly afford any of his books or materials, but he worked his little eleven-year-old butt off to make extra money. A natural salesman, he finds scraps to sell to kids he knows, gambles, scams adults until he gets the money he needs.

He loves his parents, particularly his mum. He feels incredibly guilty to be leaving his family behind, convinced that he needs to take care of them, but his parents insist that he goes. When Benjy gets to school, however, it’s clear that he is Poor. The first person to point this out is Bellatrix Black, a particularly nasty Slytherin girl in his year who comes from a very old pureblood family.

But Benjy is the most shameless, charming, devil-may-care sort of boy. He’s decent at school, but doesn’t care about doing well—he just cares about doing what’s right. He’s a jock type without possessing a shred of interest in the jock activities—he doesn’t give a damn about Quidditch but gets bored sitting still, but he’ll fly a broom to see how fast it goes. Too clever for his own good—could talk his way out of anything. He doesn’t need to lie—he just tells the truth so plainly that you can’t help appreciating his candor.

All of this infuriates Bellatrix Black, and she’s determined to make this little Ravenclaw as miserable as possible by trying to turn people against him. But Benjy is a really difficult person to hate. He’s the sort of kid who, if he doesn’t get a spell correct, is the first to laugh at his mistake. He asks the “dumb” questions in class—the ones that people are too embarrassed to admit they don’t know the answer to—with a shit-eating grin. He’s the first to protest if a professor gives them an extra long essay or a pop quiz and give the most convincing argument why the teacher should spare them—and sometimes, he’s even successful.

He gets a few O.W.L.s and a couple of N.E.W.T.s but not enough for a job in the Ministry. He never really wanted to do bureaucratic shit anyway. When he finishes school, he goes back home to work with his father as a mechanic. His family has always been his first priority, after all. And he’s pretty happy! He’s probably gay and he has younger siblings who are happily married and having kids, so he feels no pressure to “settle down” and marry some girl.

Anyway, Bellatrix Black’s old rivalry with Benjy never faded, and his family is savagely murdered in one of the earliest massacres of the war. He was supposed to be killed too, but he happened to be elsewhere that night. Mr. and Mrs. Fenwick are murdered, as well as two of his siblings, their spouses, and their children. Benjy goes feral when the Ministry do very little to investigate. He decides to hunt down the perpetrators himself but accidentally ends up sabotaging an Order of the Phoenix mission led by Alastor Moody.

Dumbledore asks Benjy to join the Order, and soon, Benjy becomes a key player in the war. He’s an excellent duelist, he can make muggle explosives that evade magical detection, he hasn’t got a lot left to lose, and most importantly, he has to make the world a better place for his little brother who’s still at school.

Benjy has been with the Order for five years by 1978. He’s still cheeky but a little jaded, battle-hardened, and a bit wary of the newest recruits who are too fresh out of Hogwarts. What is Dumbledore thinking bringing on these kids? And one of them is Bellatrix Black’s cousin.

This Sirius kid is charming and reminds Benjy a bit of himself when he was that age, but Benjy is also a bit suspicious of the pureblood heir. He hides his distrust, though Sirius can sense it. When a mission goes wrong, Sirius risks his own life to save his friends and finally earns Benjy’s respect. Others in the Order still don’t entirely trust Sirius because of his family, but Benjy sees something in him and takes Sirius under his wing as Sirius’s friends become more and more distant while the war pulls them apart.

Benjy spends more time with Sirius who constantly drops in unexpectedly at his house in Yorkshire. He’s worried about Sirius who begins behaving recklessly as James becomes more entangled with Lily. Benjy has to pull him back, insisting that he’s needlessly putting himself in danger.

When Sirius is furious that James and Lily are planning to wed, Benjy initially doesn’t see the problem—then he realizes that Sirius is in love with James. Benjy attempts to comfort him, but he discovers, to his surprise, that perhaps he’s always wanted to comfort Sirius. But Sirius is too young for him and in love with someone else…though he can’t deny he wants this kid very, very badly.

Meanwhile, Sirius desires approval from someone he respects, and Benjy has always praised Sirius in exactly the way Sirius likes—sarcastic remarks and a pinch of his cheek, winks, exasperated smiles. He likes how Benjy throws his arm around his shoulders like they’re mates; he likes that Benjy treats him like an adult when they’re on missions. They drink together, share the same kind of humor, etc. Benjy even brings Sirius to work in the auto body repair shop, etc. It’s hard to resist the older wizard—and it doesn’t help that Benjy is a fit, working class hunk.

Neither is sure who made the first move, only that Sirius came directly to Benjy’s house after James proposed to Lily. Benjy lets Sirius rage about it until Sirius, exhausted, settles down next to Benjy on the sofa, and Benjy just sort of…strokes his hair. And a lightbulb turns on for both of them.

From then on, when Sirius isn’t with his friends, he’s with Benjy. He doesn’t tell anyone about his relationship with Benjy (who warns that if Moody finds out, they won’t be able to partner up anymore). As they become more involved, Sirius can’t always explain where he’s been which looks…suspicious to people.

Anyway, if this were a fic, I’d probably add the plot of Bellatrix finding out about Benjy fucking her most eligible bachelor cousin, reigniting her old hatred of him.

Yada yada, Benjy dies to save Sirius—and no one alive knows they were ever together.

[thesharktanksdriver]

Academic Achievements (romantic)

Requested by - can i request an academic rivals to lovers w/ damian? :) maybe a dash of angst >:)

Angst heh? Ha ahhahahhahahahhahahhahahahhahahha yes~

Btw some topics of bullying, class division and Damien kinda being a little shit at the beginning (but we all expected that)

Damien Wayne was a stuck up snooty brat who didn’t work for anything that came his way

Controversial opinion but it was one held by you and the handful of other kids of Gotham academy that came from blue collar or lower class families

Everything came to him with a flick of a finger whether that be his lunch on a silver platter or the attention of others. It was effortless, truly and utterly effortless

He never truly had to work for what he’s gotten in your eyes

Just another rich kid at this academy that’s populated by them

What makes him different though is that he’s a Wayne, a breed of rich all on its own

Practically royalty to Gotham society

He and them get in on money and name alone while you and a handful of others have to work their asses off to get in

It isn’t fair but you’ve accepted that at this point

It’s why you dedicated yourself to studying, to be better than them, than him for once

All students at this school were given a somewhat level playing ground when it came to actual grades

Sure, some had tutors and private fancy teaches at home to help but unless they actually cared they could not buy their way to victory

This in itself gave you enough edge to be head of class academic wise

Well not before the Wayne whom was your age had to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong and had decided he’d try to outsmart you

It started off small at first, projects in which he’d try to constantly one up you

Sending you snide smirks from across the class

You never acknowledged them but perhaps that’s what made him more determined. More pissed off that it didn’t aggravate you like he had intended

So he moves into trying to answer questions faster than you

Raising his hand up high as to be picked first

And so on and so fourth with his attempts

It was getting annoying but you’d put up with worse, much worse at this school

But he just didn’t seem to get any hints

Especially not when he one day tracked you down at lunch while you were in the art room

It was one of your only sanctuaries here. You are in peace without the threat of getting food or a drink dumped on you by some prissy girl again for not agreeing to give her the answers she wanted for homework

You just want to be left in peace but he doesn’t get that

No, he had to stick his nose where he shouldn’t have

He tells you to give up, that he’ll win and it’ll just be easier for you accept that

You almost punch him but hold back knowing you’d be fucked if you did that

You tell him to fuck off

And that leads to the two of you arguing loudly though fortunately no one was around

Rose white statues are the only ones that see and hear the carnage

Words are thrown back and forth, like a rocking ship before it crashes bow first into the waves

Sinking deep into ice cold murky waters as neither of you back down

For him it was his pride that kept him going, for you it was your stubbornness and determination that pushed you

Two opposing forces, an unstoppable force meeting an unmovable object

A fiery red rage vs seething cold fury

“You just can’t let anyone be better at you than anything huh?. That’s the problem here, you just won’t let anyone else win. You already have everything, for once stop being selfish and just give others that chance at victory, you get it enough as it is for just waving a hand in a certain direction”

“Why do you even care so much!?, does your self esteem really hang so much on your position as the top of class?”

“Damien, I’ve had to work MY ass off to get into this school along with my friends. We fucking cried when the acceptance letters came in, and it’s a miracle that the school was merciful enough to pay for me!. You don’t have to worry about that!, you probably didn’t even bat an fucking eye when that letter came because it didn’t matter to you but it does for ME!. It matters to me cause it’s the only thing I can do that everyone else can’t just pay to win”

You leave after that, grabbing your book bag and slinging it over your shoulder as you storm past him to go to your next class. Tears lining your eyes that you hold back and push away

You wouldn’t cry, not in this jungle where the moment you show weakness they’ll descend upon you like vultures to pick away at your self esteem even more

He doesn’t move oddly enough but you don’t pay attention to it much

That night when you barely catch the bus home and then have to walk for at least another 15 minutes with your hands gripping a small pocket knife as you get home.

It’s late, dinner is cold but you don’t have the effort to place it in the microwave

You go to study for the missed time at lunch from your altercation

Your tired and cold from the walk, cheeks still red and nose stuffy but you don’t care

You pull out your notebook and begin to answer equations as best you can

The words from before playing in your mind before you drowned it out with the soundtrack of howls moving castle

As Damien returns home though he’s…shaken so to say

He kinda realizes he may have gone a step too far, a line crossed in the sand that he bounded over in pursuit of something

It also makes him realize how in some ways you were right, which he didn’t want to admit aloud

He didn’t think much about that initial letter, he tossed it away noting giving it the time of day

He knew he was smart and would’ve passed the test to get in but his fathers money had paid for him not to go through that effort

And you were right, he didn’t let others win

He always thought that was a good trait, but perhaps in cases like this it wasn’t as good as initially perceived to be

He would usually go to Dick or his father for advice but instead he goes to Todd for it

Knowing how he had a better grip on what it was like to not live rich in Gotham

And well…

“Wow ok…yeah kinda dick thing to do. You came at them unprovoked and then tried to take a crack at self esteem…good going”

And that’s when the guilt begins to set in the longer he talks to his older adoptive brother

And it hits bad especially when he knows a simple apology won’t likely cut it

It’s during the next couple of days that he watches you in a new light

Compared to him and everyone else who had large social groups your relatively alone

Only one or two friends who come to your side

It’s also here he now notices the divide that he for some reason never caught onto while at the school

Damien is a loner yes, but if he wanted friends he had people who would flock to him at a heartbeat. People who seemed to adore his every breath, a single wave getting a few cheering at getting his attention

But for you and your friends there is disdain and disgust. Like seeing a bug crawled it’s way on your table before swatting it away

But you can’t be swatted, no matter how many times someone pours water or attempts to trip you it ends up with you walking it off

Giving a glare that sends them running off with giggles as they hide a smirk behind a small “oh I’m sorry! I didn’t see you there”

You never say anything about it though, you never go to a teacher or report it at all

You just take it and it makes him confused as to why you stood up to him and not them

It’s why he returns to you after a week or so of observations

Once again interrupting your lunch as you worked on a new painting

“Oh…your back.”

“I’ve…” he pauses for a moment trying to find the right words, pride be damned “I’ve come to say I’m sorry”

You stop your painting at that, mid-stroke as you put down your brush and turn back to look at him. “I don’t believe that” it comes out your mouth and he’s left to stare

“And how would I make you do so?”

“If you really want that then show me change. Show me that you work for what you get just like I do, then I’ll respect you, then I’ll accept your apology”

That seems to hit something in him since he pauses whatever response he had

And surprisingly enough he nods

It’s from that point on you notice that there’s a shift in the young Wayne

One that others also begin to catch onto

It’s a slow process but you begin having lunch with him…well more like he joins you for lunch as you either study or continue your paintings

He shows his notebooks when your stuck and how a truck into solving a question

When others are jeering at you or your friends he steps in, glaring them down

At some point he even reported on a few students after one had poured a drink on your friend purposely

For once the report wasn’t brushed aside

There are definitely jealous glared from others about how he seemed keen on spending time with you but you don’t pay it any mind

Especially not when your working on a history project about the Ottoman Empire which he had extensive knowledge about

You…begin to enjoy his presence

At first you tolerated it but now you genuinely enjoy when he meets up at lunch and integrates himself into your small group of friends

He seems happier, more content and not scowling all the time

In class the two of you start a playful competition, not like before which was motivated by bitterness and pride

Now it’s just for the hell of it as mrs.smith can only watch as the two of you fling your hands up to answer

Afterwards depending who answered the most you’d both do a dare

He begins to actually seem like a kid and not a self-centered robot

You both begin to partner up for projects

He ends up at your small house since you don’t feel quite comfortable yet going to his place, partially in fear of being out of place

He doesn’t seem to mind but tells you that his family would love you

You wave the comment off but it does help ease your nerves slightly

In your home he finds a certain sense of normalcy he’d never really experienced

This feels like what a normal home should be like, small and cozy

Fruit left out by your mom with a note saying to have a snack

He enjoys it wholeheartedly and can’t help but smile when he keeps returning to work with you on the project

Perhaps with a bit more eagerness than he’d like to admit which makes Alfred smile knowingly

Eventually you end up at the manor with him

Your nervous and clutching your bag as your fingers fidgeted

He sees this and takes your hand

Squeezing it in a silent gesture of “it’s alright” and “your gonna be ok”

You swear your heart skips a beat yet you ignore the feeling as you step out a the car with him

The large building and its gates seeming to look over you before your attention is taken away at the sight of a dog

He smiles as the dog comes bounding forwards, stopping for a moment to sniff you before he seemingly gave you permission to pet him

“What’s his name?”

“This is Titus. He’s my dog, and resident best friend”

You giggle a bit at that as Titus pushed his snout into your hand

Tail wagging back and forth before he followed the two of you into the large home

It feels grandiose and elegant

You’d only ever see bits and pieces from magazines or on tv but seeing it in person felt like something else

Almost like walking into a book or painting

Damien guides you through the old halls and into their private library

There are a few stacked books left on a table, all of which are related to your shared project

Honestly this placed seemed like heaven

The two of you work on the project but it’s intercepted by moments of the two of you just passionately talking about the subject

Neither of you had seen it before but both of you are overwhelmingly passionate and headstrong

A reason why you’d both clashed heads before but now seemingly brung you both together

At some point he asks about your art and you somewhat shyly tell him of your hobby

How you sell your pieces on the side to make some extra money since your parents only make enough to get by

Surprisingly he compliments your skill, the techniques you’d learned over years of trial and error

And it’s…nice

You feel warm and fuzzy on the inside just as he does when you ask him to tell you more about his pets or about his roots

Eventually you have to leave but you come back soon after to confine the project

The two of you making a schedule where you sometimes go to your house or his

It’s through this you meet his kind butler who is nothing but kind and caring as he delivers cookies

Along with brief instances of Damien’s older brothers who are seemingly shocked

Especially the slightly (in your eyes) infamous Dick Grayson who peaks in as you both study

Well…before Damien hucks a book at his head yelling for him to leave

The king of Gotham himself, Bruce Wayne even stops by when your about to leave to talk to you

He thanks you for having such a positive change on Damien and your left a bit flustered by it

Especially since the man says your always welcome in their home and that your always welcome if you need help

Things seem better for both you and Damien

You’d been selling more paintings as he actually gained a group of tight knit friends who were just as nerdy as he was

Things are good

So good in-fact that Damien ends up inviting you to a gala him and his family were invited too as his plus one

Aomehow he ends up convincing you to join, even helping you find something appropriate for the occasion at a new exhibit at the Gotham art museum

A place you’d visited before for a couple feudal trips yet never saw in its actual capacity

As the celebrations start the tow of you quickly end up wandering the empty halls, admiring the art

You were both the only kids there so it was only natural to do so, besides, the adults were all mingling with one another

There are countless classics and styles of all kinds ranging from paintings to sculptures

All of which lead to the two of you talking of your interpretations of the meaning

Before you both end up at a painting with a black dot in the middle

Nothing else, just a blank white canvas with a dot

The sight of which makes you giggle

the sound makes his eyes widen and heart race, it sounds like the chimes that would happen from a light summer’s breeze or the fluttering of petals in the wind

And then he joins along in your giggles as the two of you stare at the hoity toity painting of a plane black dot on a white canvas

“I think I make better works than that” you joke

“Think?, no you definitely make better stuff than this. I don’t buy bad art”

Wait what?

You turn to him and he seems to catch what he had said

You notice that his avoids eye contact and how turns to face slightly away from you

“You…your the person who bought my art?. Why?”

“Like I said, I don’t buy bad art. Yours is much better than some of the stuff here, father even thought so”

Now it’s your turn to be flustered as you feel butterflies in your stomach

Off in the distance the two of you can hear the sound of classical music

It’s muffled and too slow for your taste so you pull out your phone and AirPods

“Wanna dance to some real tunes?”

He smiles and takes the AirPod as you press shuffle on your playlist

The sound of “lovesong” by the cure playing conveniently in both your ears

Damien takes your hand and you both take turns leading the dance

He can’t help but grin happily

Neither of you notice his family pealing into the room watching with happy smiles

Nor how Tim had kinds maybe hacked your phone to play that song

[abubblingcandle]

Augusnippets Day 1 - Brainwashing - Ted Lasso

CW - Past Child Abuse, Emotional Manipulation

Jamie was loving this whole therapy thing. Time to just talk about himself ... amazing! Until Dr Fieldstone starts asking questions about his childhood.

Here on AO3 @augusnippets

When Jamie started therapy with Doctor Fieldstone, he hadn’t thought twice about it really. Keeley seemed to think it was a good idea and he just got to sit there and talk about himself. Doctor Fieldstone just nodded, smiled and wrote stuff down. It was relaxing really. He should have started doing this sooner.

But then the bubble burst. Because turns out therapy isn’t just paying people to let you talk at them. You are expected to talk about certain stuff that you don’t want to talk about because you need to do that to get better. Which Jamie still thinks is a massive pile of horse shit. Jamie fucking Tartt does not need to talk to someone to get better. He’s already the best.

Despite that Doctor Fieldstone was determined to talk about his dad.

She had found out about the rules somewhere in Jamie's ramblings. That made it sound worse than it was. Jamie wasn't trying to hide his dad's rules from her, he genuinely thought she wouldn't care. But she did care, cared about it quite a lot really and they spent the whole session talking about them which was odd because every parent had rules for their kid. And they were just good things to keep in mind while he was still playing. They made him good. So yeah ... Jamie didn't know why Sharon was determined to talk about them but she got him to make a list and now the list was taunting him as he read it out to her. 

1 - Take any opportunity to show your talent.

"It's simple son. This game is all about being noticed. If you sit back, let others take the glory then you'll get dropped. You'll be forgotten. You'll be worthless. You don't want to end up like that. Football's all you've got going for you. Don't give them the opportunity to forget you."

2 - Only spend time around people who can make you better or make you look better 

"Friends? With that prat ... Jamie. Jamie I expect better. Both from you and for you. Friendship is a waste. They'll work out who you really are, what you really are and then either try and use you or throw you away. We don't want that do we? Friendship is only worth it if it benefits you. Does this friend ... Jacob? Does being friends with Jacob being anything to your career? ... No. Then you won't see him again."

3 - Your money is money for the family

"You don't get to say no Jamie. I need this which means we need this. You wouldn't want your family to go without would you Jamie? Do you know how much money I spent keeping you alive brat? Huh? Speak up. Yeah, a lot more than your little toys. I kept you in football which is why you are getting paid. It's time you repaid the favour."

4 - Any available time must be spent improving

"What are you doing? Fucking video games. Who said you could play games Jamie? No, get up. If you've got time to play games you've got time to train. I don't care that it's raining, you'll have to play games in the rain won't you? So stop sulking and run."

5 - Tartt men are not soft. Emotions are a choice and a waste of time. 

"Get up. James I told you to get up. Stop that noise and get a grip. Being a soft fucking wuss. So what it hurts huh? You wanna see your fucking mummy? You're a Tartt. We ain't fucking soft, we don't fucking cry. You are in control of your own emotions. If you show people you are weak then they won't trust you yeah. They won't like you. I don't even fucking like you right now as your fucking weeping and I'm your dad. Get yourself together or you're walking home."

6 - Playing through the pain makes you stronger 

"You ain't earnt any drugs lad stop sulking. You can walk can't ya? Then you're fine. When I were a lad we didn't get tablets for nothing. It toughens you up. You play through the pain you hear me then if someone takes you down in a game you'll get back up to make them regret it. See? It's for your own good. Now up we get."

7 - Stop hunting for praise

"Nobody in life kid is going to throw you a fucking party for doing your job. If you're waiting for someone to give you a well done for trying medal then you'll be waiting an age. Scored a goal, so what. Should've scored two. The only time you deserve a pat on the back is when you have a real winners medal that you've earnt right. So stop asking if you've done good, the answer should always be do better."

8 - Losses are your responsibility and need to be apologised for

"You're the best player out there junior. You know that. Everyone knows that, if they don't they're fucking dense. So if your team loses huh, that's on you. You fucking lost and that makes you are fucking loser. No Tartt is a fucking loser on my watch. Apologise. Say you're sorry for being a fucking loser Jamie."

9 - You see a goal scoring opportunity, you take it

"You think those other lads out there are thinking about you when they get a chance to shoot. No one on that team gives a flying fuck about you Jamie. Only I care about your success here and you need to start caring too. If I see you pass when you could shoot again Jamie you'll regret it alright. You'll regret it." 

10 - Instructions from me are not optional

"No? Did you just tell me no? Did that fall knock another bleeding screw loose in that empty head of yours. You don't tell me no Jamie. You don't tell me what to do. You are not in charge here and you never will be. You get that junior? Has that knocked it's way into that thick skull. You don't get to say no."

[finemeal]

Ultimate Enemy Plot Holes & Fixes (Maybe)

Alright, so sigh okay Ultimate Enemy has a LOT of plot holes. If you've watched it, and dissected it, you'll notice that. Like, how does the CAT answers get attached to Danny if he was intangible? That literally makes no sense. Also, how did the Nasty Burger blow up originally? Because from what we see, it only happens because Box Lunch and Danny fight, blowing up Nasty Burger, and now the hot sauce is touching the somehow still functioning grill which causes it to overheat and later kill Danny's family. But that wouldn't have happened in the original timeline? How did Danny get the test originally? How did the Nasty Burger get to the point it was blowing up? Am I overthinking this? (most definitely but shhh)

I've decided to write my own fixes that I will be considering "canon" from now on since Bitch Fartman doesn't know how to have a consistent show (fuck you Bitch Fartman). Will it be perfectly without plot holes? Prolly not, I'm doing this before I have to go do something, if you want to fix my fixes feel free to do so, I don't care.

So, how I think Dark Danny should come about in his timeline is honestly not going to be too far off from the show. I'll borrow some things, it's fine, not that serious.

How do Nasty Burger blow up? Well, no one said it had to be Box Lunch he was fighting, did they? I think it's possible Danny fights another ghost, and similar things happen. But, instead of Nasty Burger blowing up which would cause the grill to turn off, no electricity (I know my shit, I was a manager at a fast food joint). I think the fight will lead to the hot sauce container-thing leaning close to the grill, but no one really notices since it's such a slight change.

You still get Nasty Burger up and running, electricity going, and the hot sauce will still rise above temperature it should be (assuming Nasty Burger is open 24/7 so electricity is always running and that they don't have any safety measures in place to somehow prevent the sauce from getting overheated like morons).

How does Danny get the test answers? Well he's still a damn ghost y'all. I imagine he's driven to do so by A) being terrified of becoming a failure, B) being constantly compared to Jazz who scored phenomenally and C) there are bullies at this school, I bet Flash or some other A-Lister teased him about how he'd fail. Combining all this? I can see what would push this 14-year-old child to cheating on a test he think is going to determine his future.

After that, well, it follow sort of what we can infer happens?

If Lancer assumes Danny cheats by either A) hearing Sam & Tucker talking to Danny about it, B) literally catching Danny cheating (since this is assumed to be his first time doing it so he might not be as sneaky/subtle as he should be), or C) some other reason since they can't seem to keep straight if Lancer is a good or shitty teacher. Then, Lancer still asks Danny's family to come to the Nasty Burger to have a meeting, Jazz comes along cuz she would, (not an insult, but Jazz would do it), and Tucker & Sam usually end up tagging along to these sorts of things anyway.

If we go with the thinking that Danny does get away with cheating, I can see the Fenton's along with Sam & Tucker (who may or may not know Danny cheated) going to the Nasty Burger to celebrate his score, and Lancer could be there cuz it is a popular place. Then, the place still blows up, and there's no monuments for the workers because people who work minimum wage jobs are obviously not people (sarcasm, if you can't tell).

Either way, the end goal is achieved: Danny loses literally everyone he loves because he cheated on a test he was stressed about. Yeah, that makes sense (again, sarcasm).

Vlad, being a little shit, sweeps in and takes a mentally unstable Danny under his custody (he was also prolly left in the will as his caretaker or used his money since Vlad is a billionaire).

Now, do I think future Vlad is a reliable narrator? Hell no I don't! I think he's a lying piece of shit, and even if he does one good thing for once it doesn't make him less of a terrible person.

So, I think Vlad decided to rid Danny of his ghostly half since he sucks and knocks Danny out to do so. Do I think Phantom would then immediately go for revenge? No! I think Plasmius tries to attack him and, in self defense, Phantom separates Vlad and Plasmius. I think Plasmius would then merge with Phantom and cause this already unstable half-ghost to have a mental breakdown prolly.

I think that Danny, shaking and scared after having half of himself ripped away would try to stop this fusion and get caught in the crossfire, causing his death in the end. There's no way that Dark Danny just straight up murders Danny but leaves Vlad alive. Not unless Danny somehow accidentally brought Dark Danny's ire. Or, if Vlad snuck away somehow.

But would Dark Danny go straight into murder? I guess that's up to each their own. Personally, I think it's possible Dark Danny would? Especially since it's Phantom fused with evil as hell Plasmius. I don't think it's very likely though.

I do think it would start off as an accident, Dark Danny adjusting to his new life and accidentally attacking a human. Or if the GIW started hunting him down very seriously. Or, if a human gets caught in the crossfire while Dark Danny is fighting another ghost, which could lead to humans starting to be terrified of Dark Danny. Leading down a road of ... well what we end up seeing.

The point is, this is a very disproportionate consequence to cheating on a test.

Either way, this is what I think is what could've happened to make Dark Danny happen originally. If you see plot holes, feel free to reblog with your own fixes. Do you have a different fix for the Ultimate Enemy plot? Pop off. This is just a thought, and I know there are people out there who have some great ideas of their own.

[tameodesza]

The Wrestling Promoter’s Kid (BretShawn)

AO3 link | masterlist

Shawn Michaels is Vince McMahon’s son, which impacts not only his career, but his relationship as well.

a/n: Dubbing this as daddy’s boy AU lol. I had this idea a long time ago, but I’m just now coming back to it, so I may be a little rusty!

Michael Shawn McMahon, or Shawn as he liked to be called, was born into extreme wealth.

His grandpa, Vince McMahon Sr., launched and ran a successful wrestling promotion for decades before passing the torch to his own son, Vince McMahon Jr. 

Shawn was the firstborn child in the family and was spoiled rotten by Vince and Linda McMahon. His parents made sure he had all the toys any kid could ever want, that he had the best education, and that he was never short on money. In the rare moments when his parents refused to give him what he wanted, his grandpa was always there to provide for him.

Despite Shawn usually getting what he wanted, there was one thing his dad made very clear: he didn’t want Shawn to become a wrestler.

“But dad,” whined an 18-year-old Shawn to Vince at the dinner table.

“No, buts!”

Shawn pouted, “I bet grandpa would let me do it!”

Vince sighed, looking at Linda in desperation before looking back at Shawn saying, “Well, grandpa’s not here. Why don’t you want to help out around the office? You and Shane can be like my right-hand men.”

“Dad, office shit’s boring!”

“Language,” Linda warned, causing Shawn’s 7-year-old sister, Stephanie, to giggle.

14-year-old Shane said smugly, “Well, I would love to help out in the office, dad. Whatever you need, I’m there.”

Shawn rolled his eyes at Shane, his little brother always being a kiss-up to Vince.

“Look,” Vince said sternly, “Just give school a try first. We’ll see where we go from there.”

News flash: school didn’t work out.

Shawn’s interest in wrestling only seemed to grow, and although his dad had many connections in the wrestling business, Shawn didn’t want a handout. He wanted to do it all on his own to prove to his dad that he could make it on his own without him.

So Shawn decided to take matters into his own hands by moving to San Antonio to train with José Lethario. José was tough, but he soon became like a second dad to Shawn.

Unlike Vince, José believed in Shawn’s ability to become a wrestler. He gave Shawn his props, disciplined him when necessary, and never ceased to tell him when he was proud of him. All things that Shawn’s own dad failed to do.

Don’t get him wrong. Shawn knew Vince loved him and did his best to provide for him growing up. But his dad was a busy man. He hadn’t always had the time for Shawn, business always coming first before family. Their relationship was a bit complicated, and it went without saying that Shawn had daddy issues.

With the support and confidence boost from José, Shawn was determined to make a name for himself. But his status as a wrestling promoter’s kid hadn’t made breaking into the business any easier.

The disrespect towards him was common, many of his peers and wrestling fans automatically assuming that he’d been handed every opportunity given to him instead of earning them simply because his dad was Vince McMahon.

That was one of the main catalysts for Shawn choosing to wrestle under the name Shawn Michaels to further distance himself from being associated as a McMahon. 

Shawn worked tirelessly throughout the years to gain the respect that he knew he deserved. After working his way up through various independent wrestling promotions, Shawn eventually proved his worth, becoming a crowd favorite no matter where he wrestled.

It was at that point that Vince felt comfortable giving Shawn a shot in the WWF. Although he had been hesitant on Shawn wrestling, he’d much rather have his own company capitalize off his son’s success than another company, which proved to be the right move as Shawn became one of his top stars.

Unfortunately for Shawn, going to the WWF meant he had to start all over again with gaining respect amongst the locker room, which was even harder now that he was working in the same promotion as his dad.

Despite his efforts to separate himself from the McMahon name, people still knew who he was, and never failed to remind him. This led to a lot of problems for Shawn backstage – locker room bullying, hazing, and getting into numerous fights that certainly didn’t help his reputation.

“Another fight, Shawn?! Dammit, you just got here!” Shawn had been getting scolded in Vince’s office for the past ten minutes for getting into a fight with some jobber that called him a daddy’s boy.

“Then tell your guys to ease up on me! You think I want to fight people every day I come to work?!”

“You know I can’t interfere, Shawn! They’ll think I’m showing favoritism.”

“So you care more about your fucking image than your own son’s safety?! You know what? Fuck this! I should’ve never come to this damn company!”

“Shawn!” Shawn stormed out of the office, no longer wanting to hear the bullshit his dad was spewing.

A part of Shawn understood Vince’s concern, but for once, just once, Shawn wished Vince would put him first.

 For the sake of business, Vince and Shawn rarely interacted at tv tapings, and whenever they did, Shawn never acknowledged Vince as his dad.

Even on commentary, Shawn would refer to his dad as Vince, Vin Man, McMahon, or his personal favorite, McMannequin. 

As Shawn became more successful in the WWF, Vince began to lighten up on him a little. He recognized that he’d probably been a bit more critical of Shawn compared to the other guys that worked for him. But it was simply because Shawn was an extension of him. Anything Shawn did could reflect poorly onto Vince. But he also knew he wasn’t being fair to his son.

So he granted Shawn a few more freedoms, no longer keeping a constant eye on him. The only thing Vince asked of Shawn was not to do anything that would embarrass him. 

For the most part, Shawn kept that promise. Of course, he’d gotten into trouble a few times while partying, but so did most of the other wrestlers. So Vince just turned a blind eye.

However, things started to shift when rumors began to spread that Shawn was hooking up with multiple men in the locker room. 

Vince didn’t want to believe it. He chose not to believe it. It’s not that he’d have a problem if his son were gay, but he knew something like that could ruin Shawn’s career, and in effect, ruin Vince and the WWF as well.

He and Shawn weren’t close enough to talk about that sort of stuff, so Vince just passed it off a baseless rumor. 

That was until Vince saw with his own eyes that the rumors had some truth to it. 

He’d been walking around the arena looking for Shawn who was nowhere to be found. The taping for Monday Night Raw had just finished some hours ago, and Vince planned on leaving the arena with Shawn so they could catch a flight back to Connecticut. It was one of very few times that they had a weekend off, so he wanted to spend time with his family. 

“Where is that son of mine?” Vince’s patience was starting to wear thin as he continued to search the backstage area for Shawn.

He was about to give up, considering flying home alone, when he heard what sounded like Shawn’s laugh coming from a door he’d just passed.

Vince walked back to the door, sighing in relief, “Finally.” He heard another giggle coming from the room, becoming slightly annoyed that his son was goofing off the whole time he was looking for him. 

Vince pushed the door open, announcing, “Shawn, come on. We got a flight to catch-” His voice caught in his throat, in awe at what he’d just walked in on.

Shawn had his arms wrapped around the shoulders of Bret Hart, one hand gripping Bret’s hair as Bret’s arms wrapped tightly around Shawn’s waist, the two kissing intimately, heads tilting as their tongues slid in and out of each other’s mouths effortlessly.

It took a moment for them to realize Vince was in the room, Shawn being the first one to catch the end of Vince’s sentence before gasping as he pulled away from Bret. “Dad!”

Once his thoughts seemed to catch up, Vince asked with a hiss, “What the hell is this?!”

Shawn immediately moved between Bret and his dad saying, “Nothing-”

“Like hell it isn’t! What the hell were you doing to my son?!” Vince asked Bret accusatorily.

Bret stood there panicking, heart pounding as he looked at Vince’s stunned expression, hoping that the man wouldn’t fire him on the spot.

Shawn answered quickly, “He wasn’t doing anything I didn’t want him to!”

That caused Vince to look at Shawn in disbelief. Part of him wanted to believe that Shawn was innocent in this, that Shawn was being coerced by Bret. That was the only way any of this made sense. He just needed to be mad at someone and he didn’t want it to be Shawn. But based on his son’s actions, Shawn was a willing participant.

Dumbfounded and at a loss for words, Vince just backed up out of the room, having nothing more to say.

“Dad,” Shawn called after him before the door closed, leaving the two men in the silent room.

Both Shawn and Bret let out deep breaths they didn’t know they were holding. The evening certainly hadn’t gone the way either of them had expected.

“Fuck,” Shawn groaned before turning to Bret, whispering, “I’m so sorry, Bret.”

Bret let out another breath, his pounding heart beginning to slow its rhythm. He held up a hand, hesitating a bit before placing it back on Shawn’s waist. He stroked a thumb against Shawn’s hip as he asked, “Why are you apologizing?”

Shawn leaned into Bret’s touch, bringing his arms back up to Bret’s shoulders before resting his head in the man’s neck. “I never wanted to put you in this situation. That was so fucking awkward.”

Bret let out a light breath, “Yeah, I’m still recovering.”

Shawn groaned again, digging his head deeper into Bret’s neck out of embarrassment, which tugged a smile at Bret’s lips.

Bret brought up a hand to stroke the back of Shawn’s head before saying, “You don’t need to apologize, though. It’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is. I forgot that I was supposed to leave with him today. I should’ve been more careful, should’ve made sure the door was locked. I’m so fucking stupid-”

“Hey,” Bret said gently, coaxing Shawn’s head out of his neck so he could look into his eyes. “You’re not stupid, ok? Yes, this was not the most…ideal way we wanted to tell him about us, but hey. Now, he knows. So that’s something.”

Bret and Shawn had been seeing each other secretly for about five months, which was a big deal for Shawn. He wasn’t the commitment type, the blonde having had multiple flings throughout his time in the WWF.

But when he got with Bret, things were different. It just felt right. He couldn’t explain it, but he was no longer interested in random hookups if it didn’t involve Bret. And he knew Bret felt the same way. So they agreed to see each other exclusively. They hadn’t officially labeled themselves as boyfriends yet, but their actions spoke louder than words.

With his feelings only growing for the Canadian, Shawn knew that it would get harder to keep the secret from Vince. He planned on telling his dad eventually whenever he gathered the courage. He didn’t expect for the truth to be exposed that night.

Shawn pouted, “But did he really need to find out while your tongue was down my throat?”

Bret chuckled, stroking Shawn’s cheek saying, “Maybe not.”

Shawn frowned before saying, “Sorry, it’s just that I really like you, Bret. I don’t want this to…I don’t know…scare you away from me.”

Bret said lightly, “It takes a hell of a lot more than this to scare me. But seriously, Shawn. Don’t be sorry, ok? Whatever happens, whatever bullshit I got to put up with, you’re worth it. I mean if he fires me-”

“He’s not going to fire you,” Shawn said quickly, lifting his head up to see Bret better. “I’d quit before I ever let that happen. Don’t worry about that, ok?”

Bret smiled, nodded saying, “Ok.” He brought Shawn into another breathtaking kiss. He would kiss Shawn all night if he could, but unfortunately, they both knew now wasn’t the time.

With a final peck, Shawn pulled away saying, “I should go check on my dad. We do have a plane to catch after all.”

Bret nodded, giving Shawn a tight hug before walking him to the door. “Have a safe flight. Call me when you get settled in, ok?”

Shawn nodded, “I will. Bye, Bret.”

At that, Shawn set off to find his dad, knowing it was going to be quite an awkward plane ride home. He knew they’d eventually have to talk about the situation. There was no escaping it. He planned on being with Bret whether Vince approved or not.

Shawn could only hope that his dad would understand.

[chaoticgoodthief]

Beans, Greens and Other Strange Things

(Written for @thepenultimateword's challenge! A crossover between Jack and the Beanstalk and Tom Thumb.)

Look, if Jack wanted to be honest, he didn’t know why he had climbed the beanstalk. The first time, he had been curious, wanted to explore the new and magical gift that he had been given. The second time, he had been looking for more treasure. As much of a blessing that the coins had been, they couldn’t last forever. But this time… this time he had no excuse.

“Let me go!” he heard a small voice scream breaking him out of his musings. He could feel the blood drain from his face, and he snuck a glance out of his hiding spot. Another boy, one so small that he could probably fit in Jack’s palm, was being dangled from the giant’s hands. “I will grind his bones to make my bread!” 

Jack grit his teeth and dashed out from under the bed, praying that the giant would be too distracted to notice him. He made it all the way to the door and kicked it open with a loud bang! “Hey!” he yelled out, smiling when he saw that the giant had dropped the other boy in his shock. “Come and get me!” 

The giant lumbered forward, and Jack spared a few precious seconds to reach a hand out to the tiny boy and pop him on his shoulder. “Run! Run! Run!” yelled the boy, grabbing onto Jack’s shirt, and Jack gladly obeyed. He dashed out of the house and climbed down the beanstalk. “Tom Thumb!” the boy called out, voice barely audible in the wind.  Jack assumed it was the boy’s name, and so he said out his own.

After what seemed like eternity and yet mere minutes, Jack’s feet touched the floor. He wasted no time, running into his family’s shed and grabbing their sharpest axe. Tom cheered him on, quickly understanding his plan without Jack having to say a word. With the strength of a boy who had started chopping trees from the moment he could carry an axe, Jack swung.

The giant was still climbing down, unaware of the danger he was in. “Again, Jack!” cackled Tom, and Jack could almost hear his smile. “Make the fucker pay!” The curses didn’t bother Jack. His mother had sworn over burnt food and stubborn weeds, and so Tom cursing the creature that nearly ate them both seemed mighty fine. Instead, he just swung the axe. 

Again and again he swung his blade. Again and again Tom cheered his name. Until at last, the beanstalk went down, and the giant was dead. Jack dropped the axe, adrenaline still rushing through in his veins. Slowly, he sat down, and Tom climbed down from his shoulder and into his palms. 

“That was the most awesome shit I’ve ever seen!” the boy exclaimed, wearing the widest grin that Jack had ever seen. “You kicked open the door! You made him chase you down a beanstalk! And then twack, twack, twack! Did you see the look on his face? You-” The grin slips at roughly the same time Jack’s own adrenaline begins wearing off.

“You … saved me. I didn’t get eaten again.” Tom said, so quietly that Jack almost didn’t hear him speaking. The word “again” caught Jack off guard. But he supposed that Tom lived in a world of giants. Even something as small as a rat would be a dangerous challenge. 

“It was the right thing to do,” he finally answered, not knowing what else to say. Tom stared at Jack as if he was something extraordinary, something more than just a farm boy with too much luck and not enough money. Jack soaked every second of the gaze.

“We’re friends now,” Tom finally declared, a stubborn set in his jaw that could rival Jack’s mother. It was clear that whether Jack liked it or not, the two of them were now bonded for life. Luckily for Jack, he saw no problem in this. Tom was a kindred spirit, had the same spark of magic in him that drew Jack to the beans.

“I sure hope so!” he laughed. “I would hate to be enemies!” Tom smirked, face shifting from a determined glare to that of mischief incarnate in a split second. 

“You would.” Jack laughed harder, weight lifting off his chest as any remaining awkwardness between them faded away.

“Jack! What the fuck happened here?!” He froze. His ma. The scariest person he had ever faced, including the giant. He glanced at the fallen beanstalk and back at his fuming ma.

“He saved my life!” Tom yelled from his palm, balling his hands into fists. “If it wasn’t for him, I would be giant food!” Tom took a breath and told the full story from his point of view. About how a bird had snatched him from his home and into the giant's castle, and Jack rescuing him before he was eaten alive. It sounded awe-inspiring when Tom said it, a far cry from the harebrained scheme that it had felt like to Jack in the moment. Tom’s tale was so grand that Jack could see the fury slowly leave his ma’s eyes.

“Well, if that is the case…” she finally relented, “I suppose I can forgive him for the mess, just this once.” Jack slumped in relief, and decided that if there was anyone extraordinary, it was Tom.

It was still a gruelling few months of work to clean up the aftermath of the fight. But with Tom on his shoulder, telling both truths and tall tales to pass time, it wasn’t as bad as he had expected. Eventually, Jack started telling his own back. None of them were that good compared to Tom’s silver tongue, but they sparked laughter all the same.

Then, one day, Tom came to him, holding a pair of strange shoes and looking guilty. “I’m going home,” he said, words brutally blunt yet still driving a dagger into Jack’s heart. He nodded silently, not trusting himself to speak yet. He wouldn’t dare to hold Tom back from his family, who were probably horribly worried about him if even a single one of Tom’s stories about his childhood were true.

“Don’t forget about me?” He finally managed to joke. Tom scowled, a familiar stubbornness filling his small face. He kicked Jack’s hand as hard as he could. Which… wasn’t really that painful compared to almost seven hours each day of manual labour, but Jack got the point. He laughed, weight lifting off his chest ever-so-slightly as he smiled as his first and only friend. 

“Never,” Tom promises. “Not in a million years.” They have one last meal together before Tom leaves, a simple but hearty stew that his Ma had once saved for birthday meals. Jack sees him out the door, more of an excuse to spend more time together than anything else. Tom takes a step outside. And then another. “Our door is always open, dear,” his Ma promises Tome. Jack just smiles, making a crude gesture with each hand. Tom sent his own pair back, the two of the cackling. And then Tom was gone.

Time seemed to move slower without Tom around to help pass time. Making up stories to tell himself just wasn’t the same with the other boy clutching onto Jack’s shirt and laughing. Despite being nearly done with cleaning up the beanstalk mess, it didn’t feel like a victory. In fact, it just felt more and more like slowly waking a wonderful, half-finished dream. He kept going anyway. 

There was a knock on the window one day. He had ignored it at first, assuming it was just his imagination again. And then, his ma opened the window, a wide smile on her face. “Jack! Your little friend is here!” Jack’s head spun around feet already pounding against the floor. Tom. Standing just outside the now-open window with a stupid smirk on his face.

“Miss me?”

[kylesvariouslistsandstuff]

ELEMENTAL Box Office Nonesuch

So... ELEMENTAL looks to make $28-33m over the weekend... The autopsies are already being done, the expensive Pixar original is already deemed a flop... Here's what I say...

Box office is absurd: I mean really, box office runs seem more and more absurd by the year in the post-COVID outbreak era... Having to make so much money, in a very competitive field and in a time where audiences can't see too many movies a year, in around 3-4 months? Like c'mon, it's literally the infancy of a movie's existence. It's not the '00s, or even the '10s anymore.

Longevity: Especially since animated movies from both Pixar and Disney Animation traditionally have had long, ever-fruitful second lives. Whether it was thru theatrical re-releases (1940s-1980s), home video (1980s-onward), or streaming... ELEMENTAL will likely be no different by the end of the year, probably will rack up a million streams on Disney+. This has a very good "A" CinemaScore grade, so it could have very good legs over the summer, even if it doesn't top that ridiculous budget.

$200m budget... Making around $500m at the worldwide box office is a lot of pressure to put on an original animated family movie, let alone most movies, especially in this day and age.

"Well, if they had made a good movie-" OK, now do every blockbuster smash hit that got mixed to negative critical reception. Heck, do this year's SUPER MARIO BROS. MOVIE. Critical reception/one's own opinion doesn't mean shit. If it did, CARS 2 - the go-to for "worst Pixar movie" - would've flopped hard back in 2011, regardless of any goodwill brought over from the first movie.

That William Goldman quote/marketing/blah blah: "Nobody knows anything... Not one person in the entire motion picture field knows for a certainty what's going to work. Every time out it's a guess and, if you're lucky, an educated one." Whatever was in that marketing... And there WAS marketing... LOTS of it... Just didn't motivate audiences to shell out lots of money for tickets and concessions to see this film in a theater where it's possibly disgusting, noisy, or... Both!

Pixar is not in a slump: This is also all subjective. And if I was a filmmaker, and I had a slump of movies that ranged from roughly 70-85% Rotten Tomatoes scores - not that RT aggregate scores mean anything anyways... That'd be quite alright! Anyways, the movies they're currently making just aren't to your liking. That's all it is... and they don't have to release a specific kind of movie. This, ideally, should be a studio where a director makes THEIR film. Not a collective. Like it used to be at one point... Speaking of which-

John Lasseter: I've seen so many people, from inside animation fan circles... to even pundits writing for major movie publications... Suggesting that Lasseter's ouster left a real hole in Pixar, and Disney Animation as well. Never mind implying that a misogynist pervert should be brought back to the studio, but this also suggests that every Pixar success is because of him... And him only. Like, all the filmmakers are just untalented hacks without him? Like he's the guy who waves a magic wand and suddenly, everyone on board made a good movie? Do you want animated movies made by FILMMAKERS? Or films determined by a small COMMITTEE? I'm also old enough to remember when Lasseter was THE problem with Pixar, that he was a dictator making every director bow to his every demand. (Which was true.)

I'm sorry, but I'm just exhausted from how people are talking about ELEMENTAL... Which I haven't even seen yet, but it feels like people are trying to write such nuanced industry-related things and outside factors off and use their personal opinions/biases to explain away these box office mishaps, wrapping it up in neat simplistic bows...

I'm just concerned about what will happen with the studio from here on out, especially after 75 people - including veterans like Galyn Susman, Angus MacLane, and Steve Purcell - were laid off.

"Make better movies, then!" Okay, how subjective, it's not like the studio's people are all sitting there not putting in effort and calling it a day. Okay? These movies take years and years to plan out, make, remake, and finish. Like Goldman said, it's all a guess each time out. A gamble. When these people are making these movies, they're making decisions that they think are the right decisions at the right time. ELEMENTAL, by all accounts, went into development around 2016-ish. Around the time director Peter Sohn had finished THE GOOD DINOSAUR... How would the crew, and the studio as a whole, had known what the world would like in 2023? What audiences' ever-changing tastes would be? What the zeitgeist would be?

And again... "Make better movies"? MARIO might've pulled in $1.3b worldwide and became one of the highest-grossing animated movies of all-time, but the critical reception for it wasn't great. Mostly mixed to negative, not as good as this movie. Or TURNING RED, LUCA, SOUL, ONWARD, even LIGHTYEAR! And even all the recent WDAS movies, including big box office flop STRANGE WORLD.

Again, it's as simple - and boring - as "They made a movie... People didn't show up."

So... What do I think happens next?

Pixar hasn't had a genuine financial success in theaters since TOY STORY 4 all the way back in 2019. ONWARD got cut off by the pandemic, SOUL, LUCA, and TURNING RED all went straight to Disney+ in most parts of the world. LIGHTYEAR lost money, this might, too... How much did ELIO cost? Why should that film be expected to make the amount of money usually reserved for a massive superhero movie? INSIDE OUT 2 is all but a lock for a huge gross... A sequel, no less.

I would hate to see Pete Docter get removed as CCO (and who the hell would they replace him with anyways? The rest of the "Brain Trust" is either no longer working there or off doing other things), but I fear that could be a very real possibility. I know most of the internet declares Docter's Pixar to be some kind of failure, but I for one like his Pixar. Even if I didn't like the films coming out now, the place is a lot more director-driven than before, and more experimental. John Lasseter would've probably fired Enrico Casarosa, Domee Shi, and Angus MacLane off of all of their films... Or would've blockaded them every step of the way whenever they tried to make something in their respective films interesting. So yeah, I don't feel Docter is the problem here... it's really all down to how Disney handled the release of many of the recent Pixar films, how much the studio spends on their films, and the marketing just not enticing audiences to go see the films.

That's beyond Docter's control, and he even partially touched upon this in a recent interview... And for what it's worth, again... Audiences... The ones who actually saw the movie already... seem to be liking ELEMENTAL. "A" CinemaScore is pretty good. SPIDER-VERSE Deux and MARIO had an "A" CinemaScore as well. If this movie has excellent legs, it'll show that people - not internet-dwelling weirdos who seem to be the authority on all things animation - actually DID like the film... It just cost too much to make. Like a modern-day CLEOPATRA or SLEEPING BEAUTY. A movie that quite a few audiences went to, but it wasn't enough to cover the gargantuan costs to make it...

Like, if ELEMENTAL cost around BAD GUYS/PUSS IN BOOTS 2/DC SUPER-PETS/SPIDER-VERSE numbers... You know, around $80-90m in budget and NOT $200m+... this thing wouldn't be written off as a flop.

I'd imagine more sequels will happen, which was always a given, but maybe more so than ever before. INSIDE OUT 2 and TOY STORY 5, they weren't going to stop there, that was a given... Docter did say in that same interview that the originals in Pixar's library are fair game for sequels. And no smart exec walks away from movies that make $1b at the box office... Unless they're something like, say, TITANIC.

Maybe there will be stricter mandates put on Pixar films to "make them more appealing to audiences"... That's very possible, as it sometimes happens at these studios. Micromanaging, ya know? Trying to create that next big hit the mechanical way, by overthinking it... Instead of just making something and seeing how it all goes. How it does at the box office is often beyond a filmmakers' control anyways... Again, what the world will look like 4 years after you've started your endeavor...

Or maybe nothing happens, Pixar has special privileges, and keeps making what they make...

To me, the smartest thing would be to either... Step back and realize how silly box office has become, that it's absurd to expect a smash hit out of something in a crowded marketplace in just 2-4 months, hinging an entire studio's future on that... Or lower the budgets of these movies...

Anyways, sorry to rant, but it's all just absurd to me... Yes, the movie may indeed lose money, but it's not clear-cut.

[symphonic-scream]

Hi sorry if you've already gotten an ask about it but I'd LOVE to hear about the okujima single parents au!! Your aus are always great!!

Hehehehehe alright lemme piece my thoughts together for this

So. Yes. The au. Let me start with Makoto's side

Without the intervention she got in canon, she did go on to be a cop. However, early on in her career, she took part in a car chase that ended with a rather horrible accident. Not only did her partner get injured, and the crook killed, but a young family had been involved. Both parents died, leaving their infant twin sons

Makoto, was in a rough place cause of that. But she was determined to outdo the harm she did with good, and sold her apartment, motorcycle, and turned in her resignation. She moved back in with her sister, and fought to gain custody of the two boys she'd inadvertently orphaned

So there she was. Raising identical twins Akira and Ren, trying to give them everything they deserved and more. She got a job as a librarian, and a service dog for PTSD! Johanna. Of course. She works just down the street from where the boys go to school, and she spends all the money she earns on them first. To the point where she's got a floor mattress and they have very nice beds

She hasn't dated, since. Well. Ever really, just a few nights out with a woman or two while she was still an officer. That all changes when she meets her sons' first grade teacher

(psst. That's Haru!)

Let's jump over to her side of things

Haru was engaged to Sugimura, just as in canon, but this time they actually were married. When Haru was 16. In part because he pressured her to do things, and it resulted in. A scandalous pregnancy

She's 17 when her daughter is born, and her has tears in her eyes as she gets to name her. The father is no where to be found, angered at news of anything other than a son. Haru traces wrinkled little features, and signs the birth certificate with shaking hands

Kotone Okumura.

Over the next two years Haru fights for divorce, aided by her father after some time. She's ecstatic the day she wins full custody of Kotone, and they even get a restraining order. Kunikazu covers all her expenses, including their apartment, Kotone's clothes and food, and Haru's night classes. It's not long before she finishes high school and gets her teaching credentials

Fast forward to the time she meets Makoto. Her daughter is 14, and she's never had any interest in the parents of her students. Nothing clued her in that this time would be different! She just called to have a meeting with Akira and Ren's mother to discuss her suspicion of. ADHD behaviour

But the most attractive woman she's seen in a long while slips into the room, a shepherd dog tied to her waist, a worried look on her face. Oh, and nothing got Haru's heart going like a properly concerned and involved parent!

They talk throughout the year, with Makoto volunteering for field trips and always picking the boys up in person at the end of the day. Haru makes sure her students know not to bother the "working puppy", and she starts stopping by the library more on her own

Kotone is super weirded out cause. She's never seen her mom show any interest in a real person before. Ever. She and her friends (the rest of the P3 crew) investigate Makoto by following her around at the library and shit

They don't get together that year. Haru is strict on herself with her rule to not get involved with her students parents. But the day Akira and Ren move up to the second grade, she's pulling Makoto aside to ask her out, leaving a lingering kiss on the edge of her lips

That night Makoto scrambles to call her sister to ask for some cash to at least get herself a box spring. Or anything to make it look like she's not waving that red flag high. Sae makes a big deal of it cause her baby sister is finally taking care of herself,,

And yeah. They date. Akira and Ren already love Haru, and tease their mom a lot. Kotone takes a bit to get used to Makoto, but having someone make her Mama so happy can't be bad at all

So. Yeah. Uhm. There's more but that's the summary lemme know what y'all think!!

[thesilent-o]

"Last one, yeah last one my ass. You know, if he's so determined to steal shit from people, he should do it himself. Except oh wait, he can't because he's a drunken piece of shit." Blitzo cursed to himself while he worked on wedging a roof hatch open to a well known club and restaurant. 

Known to attract large crowds for the shows it put on and the scandalous being that owned it. It had become one of the places of interest for Blitzo’s father, Cash. A con man from the start, his only real interest being in earning money or finding ways to do so. Ever since Blitzo was young his father looked for ways to earn money off of him. Going as far as to make him and his twin sister spectacles in his circus. Something that at the time had been incredible for the young imp. Even going as far to develop a love for performing and a dream to one day become famous doing just that. Dreams that Cash had been quick to shoot down in Blitzo. Crushing any hopes he might have had at succeeding whenever the circus had fallen apart. If there couldn't be any benefit in it for his son's success anymore then there was no need for Blitzo to have those sort of dreams. He'd be more useful as an errand boy, as he often was when he was a child. A pawn in his cons or something he could use as a bargaining chip if it meant earning more money for himself. 

Blitzo had just about had enough of his schemes though. Especially since he was only met with criticism from his father, even if he got the job done for him. He believed that he would never achieve his dreams now. The ideals of a starstruck imp dead with the family circus. No, now, Blitzo felt he needed to find a higher purpose. Some other way to get his name out there. A way for people to recognize who he was and maybe earn some real respect instead of being regarded as washed up trash. Blitzo had his own agenda and it didn't involve Cash or his shady schemes. It meant doing something legit and something that would make him easy money. Sinners all came here for a reason, some without a choice. So what if he could do something about that? Somehow make them feel at peace for the shitty hand that they might have been dealt? It was something that Blitzo wished someone would have offered him years ago. And yet here he was, breaking in through a skylight. Sent on yet another job which he would get no help for, despite the promise and likely little credit if he pulled it off. Greedy bastard. 

"I swear if I ever–" Blitzo uttered to himself while he heaved the hatch open. The thought was never finished though because just shortly after forcing it open, the imp lost his balance and fell into the open hatch. 

The fall to the stage far below likely would have done some damage to his body. It was quite the drop and not at all how he had planned to enter the building. Luckily, he managed to catch a hold of the curtains that hid the back part of the stage. Gliding down them, his claws tore into them until finally he came to a stop, clinging to the fabric. It was fortunate that the building and stage were empty otherwise, he was certain he would have drawn some attention to himself. Blitzo was also relieved that he had managed to catch ahold of something to soften his fall otherwise things could have ended very badly for him. And the worst part of it was the fact that he knew there wasn't a single person that would have given a damn. Not with his sister estranged and on drugs, his father a drunken con artist and his friends, gone. Everyone he knew was gone. That of course, included his mother. Who might have been the only one who would have still cared about him, if she were still around to care. 

"Great job, Blitz. Too bad that didn't kill me," He muttered to himself while he struggled to slowly make his way down the torn curtain. He was in now, he might as well snoop around. 

@fzrticv -Fizzarolli

[littlealeta]

Wonka Review

I was skeptical about this film since I first heard of its announcement a few years ago. And then, I forgot about it until I heard it came out, like right the fuck out of nowhere back in December. I was surprised to see all the hype it got. I mean, clearly this was meant to be cash grab, right? Well, apparently, it surprised a lot of people. And I decided to go see it in the theater because after all, it IS a Willy Wonka movie, so at the very least, it should be fun right?

...

Barely.

Story

Right off the bat, I had little care about the story. Wonka, at first glance, is kinda an idiot. He signs a contract, ignoring a young girl's warnings, which leads into the film's conflict of needing to pay it off. And then, other chaos ensues after he sells chocolate without a store and Wonka is publicly shamed. Look, I don't know what things were like in the 1900s, 1800s or whatever, but is it really illegal and/or morally wrong for someone to sell their own products without a store in that time period?

Anyway, by that point, I could pretty much tell where the story was going.

I really don't care to explain the plot any further. It's just a boring origin story about a man trying to make chocolate while facing the bad guys (because we always need a bad guy for a story). You might as well watch the movie Chocolat instead. It has all the usual hollywood tropes and beats. Character wants something, they do something stupid because of plot reasons, people kick their ass because they're assholes, they partner up with the annoying sidekick who tries to brighten things up when things get tough, they get chased by bad guys, BIG action sequence, disney death, orphan finds out their family is alive plot twist, everyone is happy as they can be, the end. It's another movie made to milk a popular franchise and really not worth your time and money. If you're really curious about it, wait until it streams.

Not gonna lie, I do think a Willy Wonka origin story COULD work if they were willing to expand on the creative world he gave us in the movie and book, but the film barely even does that. It just throws in a few special effects and calls it a day.

Characters

It's been a long time since I've seen the Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory film, but from what I remember, Wonka had a lot of character. He was bubbly, zany, quirky, cheerful, and full of energy. This Wonka has barely any of that or any personality at all. He's imaginative and determined, but that's about it. He's also quite ignorant as well (which I don't remember the original Wonka being at all). It doesn't even feel like the same Willy Wonka.

Noodle is your average sassy, optimistic, precocious child sidekick. She wasn't really necessary. Just Hollywood shoving in child characters to appeal to their young audience. Noodle could've been an adult and it would still make just as much sense.

I don't have anything else to say about the other characters because there really isn't anything special to say about them and I don't remember shit about them.

I will say there are some witty dialogue here, but that's about it as far as characters go.

Acting/Music/Special Effects

The movie does well with all of these for the most part. The songs aren't the most memorable, but I will start signing Scrub Scrub whenever I clean. All of the actors pull off amusing performances and do well with what they were given. Timothee Chalamet makes for a fairly bland Wonka, but it's not really his fault. The special effects look great and are about one of the few actually imaginative parts of the film.

Overall

It's pretty much everything you expect out of a Hollywood prequel/sequel/remake. Almost everything about it is pointless, uninspired, forgettable, generic, and flat. If anyone is willing to explain why the hype for this movie was earned, I would love to hear it. Nothing about the plot or characters interested me. It's basically Chocolat with some action and fantasy in it. Willy Wonka doesn't even feel like Willy Wonka. Characters hate on the main character and the main character gets himself into trouble because... plot I guess. It reeks entirely of corporate meddling and crunched time.

Wonka gets 3.9 bells out of 10

I'm pretty sure that this will be one of those things that will quickly age and be mostly forgotten fairly soon. Just watch the classic instead.

[bumblewarden]

Helloooo ^^ I come with burning curiosity and a plethora of questions for Radka 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀 Please feel free to pick and choose the questions you like best (am I angling for backstory with the first two? I may be 😌😌)

4. Describe their family. Who were they close to? Were there any particular childhood friends?

6. Which aspects of the culture they were born into holds the most significance for them?

10. Are there any animals they have a particular love or hatred for?

17. What did they think of Anora? How did they feel about her betraying them?

20. How did they deal with Loghain?

Have a lovely day!!

This one ends up being a bit of a long one! I wasn't fully awake when i first read this, so i missed the part where you requested Radka until after i had already written a full response for Novhen (oops), so i'll just answer for him as well anyway after i go through Radka's answers 😅

[Ask Game]

4. Describe their family. Who were they close to? Were there any particular childhood friends?

Radka and Kalah get along terribly, but prior to becoming a Grey Warden, Rica's wellbeing is the only reason Radka does anything that she does. Even with as much as she idolizes the Order, she refuses to leave with them until she knows that Rica will be safe in her absence

Outside of Rica, it's less accurate to say Radka had childhood friends and more accurate to say she had accomplices. Mostly, this was Leske. There used to be a few others, but they were all eventually made part of the Legion of the Dead or made actually dead. She and Leske weren't very nice to each other, but sure, they were the best they had

6. Which aspects of the culture they were born into holds the most significance for them?

The strict caste system. This isn't a positive significance, but no one can deny its impact. It shaped every day of her life. It allowed her to be forced into the role of a Carta thug from a young age. It pushed the only person she cared about into the high-risk high-reward position of a noble hunter. Radka was a weapon with no agency of her own, and (esp if we're looking at her current playthrough we're she's the Warden) because there's now no one bossing her around in this completely unfamiliar environment, she doesn't know who she has to be and is flailing

10. Are there any animals they have a particular love or hatred for?

Dust Town doesn't really have room for the concept of a pet, but this mabari shit is pretty cool. Look, Alistair, she can ride on it! Does this mean it's a horse too?

20. How did they deal with Loghain?

Killing! Death! Murder!*

*I do not yet know if Radka will be able to handle the Landsmeet without the whole room breaking out into a brawl, but either way, Loghain is dying that night

And now Novhen time because i apparently cannot read instructions!

4. Describe their family. Who were they close to? Were there any particular childhood friends?

We already know the basic structure of the Tabris family, so i'll skip over that part

As much as he loves Cyrion, Adaia was very clearly his favorite parent growing up. He clung to her skirt like the skin of a fruit

Shianni's personality is more generally compatible with Novhen's, but Soris had a head start of at least 6 years of being raised together. When they were all kids, Novhen used to play a "game" he called "favorite cousin". Basically, if one of them did something he really approved or disapproved of, he would then determine one of them to be then his favorite cousin. Shianni got more into it than Soris

Other childhood friends would be Shona (mage and sometimes Surana who is his now-Tranquil ex from his revamped Companion AU), Mahanon (Soris's crush, ran away to eventually join Clan Lavellan shortly before the events of the City Elf Origin), Nola (you know her, more Soris's friend than Novhen's), and Nessa (you know her as well, a distant cousin, because of Novhen's altered timeline, he's not around to give her money to stay in Denerim when she needs it, so they reunite at Ostagar)

6. Which aspects of the culture they were born into holds the most significance for them?

The focus on community

10. Are there any animals they have a particular love or hatred for?

He used to be terrified of mabari hounds. Prior to his conscription, his only exposure was nobles going for some bloody sport in the alienage or guard dogs when he was sticking his nose where it wasn't wanted. It leaves a poor impression

On the other hand, he (perhaps unsurprisingly) thinks their close relatives wolves are super cool. I have a discord snippet ripping on him about his Dark Wolf gig hold on:

Also horses are scary, but mules and donkeys are sweet.

17. What did they think of Anora? How did they feel about her betraying them?

He doesn't like Anora. She's just another self-centered noble to him, but he can at least work with her

And tbf she never technically betrayed him in the game itself. He has a basic understanding of what stealth is, so she doesn't "betray" him during Rescue the Queen, and he doesn't try to depose her in Alistair's favor, so she doesn't "betray" him at the Landsmeet either. There might be some heated words about her slowness to give the alienage the aid it is owed, but he expected that

20. How did they deal with Loghain?

Also, Loghain's fucking dead lol

I've tried to fight him with Novhen, but he's only a squishy support unit. He can't take the heat. He has no element of surprise and a tenuous access to stealth during this fight, and apparently, stuns aren't very useful without a heavy hitter around to capitalize on them. Alistair has to be the one to fight and kill him, but that's just as well. Alistair can have a revenge murder, as a treat

[caretkr]

his  answer  is  all  the  confirmation  she  needs  to  hear.      ⸻      broke  or  not?  fiona  would  find  the  money  for  this.  carl  needed  it.  she’d  fucked  up  those  kids  enough  without  risking  one  being  permanently  injured.  he  had  too  big  a  future  ahead  of  him.  ＂  he’s  tryna  get  into  military  school.  he  needs  his  leg.  ＂  it’s  difficult  to  determine  whether  she’s  speaking  to  the  doctor  this  time  or  herself;    a  quiet  argument  with  her  own  self  -  doubt  because  she  KNOWS  they’re  going  to  struggle  if  they  do  this.  making  decisions  for  an  entire  family  wasn’t  easy.  the  pressure  weighed  down  on  her  especially  heavy  in  moments  like  these,  but  somebody  had  to.  it  wasn’t  as  if  frank  or  monica  ever  had  any  intention  of  stepping  up.  legs  shift  apart  enough  for  her  to  rest  elbows  on  knees,  head  ducking  down  with  another  shaky  sigh.

fiona  barely  notices  link  takes  a  seat  beside  her  until  he’s  speaking  again,  tired  gaze  turning  to  him.  she’s  almost  thankful  for  the  reminder.  his  presence  temporarily  stops  her  from  descending  into  unkind  thoughts.  however,  it  doesn’t  take  long  for  gratitude  to  twist  in  something  else  though.  something  uglier.  pride.  ＂  i  don’t  need  your  charity.  ＂  yes,  she  does.  brows  knit  tight  together  and  it’s  obvious  she  doesn’t  trust  the  offer.  nobody  ever  did  shit  out  the  kindness  of  their  hearts.  not  in  her  experience.  financial  debt,  the  woman  could  handle.  debt  to  another  person,  that  was  different.  they  always  wanted  something  in  return  in  the  end  and  if  they  didn’t,  what  else  would  it  cost  her?  she  couldn’t  risk  another  dcfs  referral.  ＂  i  can  take  care  of  these  kids.  i  just    …    need  time.  is  there  some  kinda  payment  plan  we  can  follow?  ＂  sure,  it  would  probably  take  her  whole  life    (    and  then  some    )    to  finalise,  but  that  was  better  than  nothing.  better  than  a  hand  -  out. 

he nods slowly , feeling the guilt rising within him . " your brother needs this surgery or his leg might not be the same ever again . " this was one of the few parts that link hated about the job . he shouldn't have to be forced to watch a family struggle with the decision on if getting proper health care is something they could manage or not , because it should be affordable for everyone . not just those who had the money to throw into it without a care in the world . he's one of the lucky ones in his line of work , this isn't a decision he'd ever have to make . but he also knows that he was once a kid who also needed important medical treatment , and if it weren't for his team of doctors , he wouldn't be here right now saving lives . albeit , the situations were different ; his was life saving and carl's was if his leg would ever be the same again . that difference , however , wasn't something that mattered to the orthopedic surgeon .

link's not sure he knows what to do here . he knows in his gut what's right and what's wrong in the situation , but neither way seem to have the picture perfect outcome he's hoping for . he couldn't , in good conscience , allow a family to go home even more broke than when they'd come in . that was the bottom line . " look . . . " he finally speaks up after some time , voice low as he moves to sit next to fiona in one of the waiting room chairs . " sign the consent forms . let me do the surgery . don't you go worrying about the money . this one's on me . "

[ironheartedfae]

Timing: Current Location: Osgood's Dump Warnings: Emotional manipulation Summary: Darya checks in.

"Kitten, how is your mission going?"

The voice came through the phone clear as crystal. Though it accompanied no piercing gaze, the nymph felt it withering her all the same. A few days had passed since Ren had last sent a report. The events in the wood with the ranger had her mind reeling. Replaying events of her past under a new light. One that shed a lot more context than the stories she'd been told about them. 

God she was so stupid. 

If she'd spent more than two seconds thinking about them critically she might have seen how little they all added up. Conflicting tales that now Ren could see were just quite obvious manipulations. Taking on the very aspects they demonized in the monsters they fought. What else had she lied about? 

'More shit she told you. You remember them at all? Your parents? Or you just take her word for it? The thing about humans, kid, is we don't get sick when we lie. And it sounds like Darya has a hell of a lot of experience with lying.'

Emilio's words were said in anger, or maybe just hurt and fear. Born of actually caring for the kid in the way Darya maybe never had. And Ren just yelled right back at him. Asked him to twist a knife into her if ever she gave in to instinct. If ever she acted more like a fae. 

Well she'd done that now, hadn't she? Manipulated Gael into taking her in. Manipulated Van, Nora, Thea, and even Cass into thinking she was capable of being a friend to anyone. Manipulated Andy into giving her money and food. Bound a near stranger to his thank you. Tying his tongue to her whim in the name of 'kindness'. She was a liar without lying. A beast born of words and action. She was a monster. 

But she was also just a kid. 

And there was so much more nuance to the world she just did not know. So much she was learning so quickly. Least of which was that her upbringing was not warranted, or at least was not kind. No. Ren hadn't met with kindness until she moved to Wicked's Rest. Where a wicked thing like her could finally get some peace. Finally know what it was like to be at rest at all. Though the act brought with it so much guilt it was hard to maintain for any real amount of time. 

"Kitten…Renata. Are you okay?" When the nymph didn't respond, the voice changed. A tone she hadn't really heard from the older woman since she was a child. Barely out of diapers. 

Concern. 

Darya was…concerned? 

"The report about the vodnik, your leg wound. You are not going to help anyone if you let yourself get injured like that. You need time to heal, I hope this is why your reports have slowed." 

"Ah–" Her own voice was weak. Small. A good reflection of how she felt. Imagining her mother's face, how foreign the expression must have looked upon her hardened features. "Yes. I have been taking time to set the wound properly." True enough, though Darya hadn't yet met the Ren who had experimented with half truths and clever misdirections. Why would she suspect anything but the whole truth?

"Ah, well that is good to hear, kitten. Soon enough you will be back on both feet. I will be sending your supplies to the PO box this coming Tuesday. Let me know when it arrives. Okay?" 

"Okay."

The phone hung up and the nymph was left in stunned silence. The anger that had been building towards the matriarch of the Adelskold family was quenched in a moment of desperation to please the one person she never seemed to be able to. A sickly facsimile of hope writhed around in her stomach and filled her chest with a disoriented determination. 

Maybe she had been wrong. Maybe Darya had too. But maybe it was less about the woman being a terror and more about her not knowing exactly how to care for something like Ren. Maybe she was just doing her best, maybe she did care, and Ren just hadn't worked hard enough to earn it. All the work she had done in this town was something, it was getting her somewhere. 

Only time could tell if it was where she wanted to be.

[thecameronchronicles]

Withdrawal

TW: Drugs. Effects of Cocaine. Smut. Language. Angst. 

PLEASE DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE THINGS ARE TRIGGERING!

SUMMARY: Rafe comes to you with a plan to get clean, but it would prove easier said than done with your own complicated feelings for him…

WORD COUNT: 3800

*ORIGINAL CONCEPT*

Withdrawal

You were all Rafe Cameron had after everything happened this last year. Anyone else that dared call him a friend was socially blacklisted when the scandal of his father's money laundering became the means for families splitting up and companies going under. This also meant that the king of the Kooks had delved deeper into his vices. Something you were forced to witness first hand as you knew better than to stand between him and his ivory mistress. The same one that only supplied a temporary high to the issues no drug could truly rid him of. But you had been his means of salvation on more than one occasion. Bailing him out of prison for unnecessary fighting and getting there in the nick of time before he would succumb to another near overdose. Not to mention the nights he would come to you when you were supposed to be asleep, ending up wrapped within his arms when he'd fallen asleep after yet another row with his dad. 

And why did you do this? Because you were completely in love with him. You had been before his first line of cocaine and long before he became associated with his title of royalty between the groups of different social standings. And you saw glimmers of him in the cracks of the man he was now, making it visible to know the man you loved was still in there. You hoped you were the tether to his sanity and convinced yourself as much as he had only come to you for those things. But you were unaware that you were not only his lifeline, but also his gravity, and tonight, his last hope. 

The knock came as it always did outside your bedroom window, light yet purposeful, as you sauntered to the pane to find him standing on the shingles you usually sat on to talk. But as you saw him at this moment, he wasn't nursing torn knuckles or failing at hiding tears. He was determined, almost excited, if the sparkle behind his blue hues were any indication of this. 

"Rafe-" 

"I've made a decision...But I uh...I need your help..." 

"Okay..." You agreed not caring to know the details as you were just happy to see him excited for something that wasn't a hit of something. 

"I'm gonna get clean..." He nodded as your happiness faded as you'd heard these words before. Most recently, after his previous brush with death a month prior, when you found him outside Barry's trailer on the line of morality, having called paramedics just shy of what would have been too late. He even wore the same committed bob of his head and animation of his fingers rising to his temples and his chest as he continued. 

"I need to get my shit together, I know that, okay? I do...But I can't do it without you-" 

"They have rehabilitation centers that could do more than I can-" 

"No..." He was quick to disagree. 

"They don't have you." You didn't know if he ever meant such dramatic and even romantic proclamations and yet, he made them often. It was that left the questioning lingering in the air if this was something more than platonic. But either way, you knew he was in no condition to take care of himself, let alone a relationship. So you refocused on his words as if they were spoken only from a friend. 

"What can I do?" 

"I need you to stay with me...Make sure I don't use anything." The idea of being alone with Rafe was both exciting and nerve-wracking. But more of the aforementioned had left you bobbing your head in approval as he now stood in wait. 

"Right now?!" 

"I'm already starting to tweak a bit..." 

"I..." Your eyes darted in every direction in search of what you would need. 

"You know, Sarah has a bunch of shit she left behind like all those expensive perfumes and all that kinda stuff so you don't need much." 

"Is that all you think girls need?" You teased as he shrugged, never able to hold onto a relationship long enough to figure that out. As you made small talk, and even a minor lesson out of what was needed, he made his way around your room as you began to pack. Necessities on the forefront of your mind, you ran around almost like mad before collecting what was needed and disappearing into the bathroom across from your room to continue this brigade. 

When you returned, you found him in your dresser, removing a pair of lacy underwear that was now dangling shamelessly at the end of his finger. 

"These would definitely be a distraction for me-" You quickly took hold of them before showing them back into your drawer. 

"YOU would look quite distracting." You shot back, sporting a grin in being proud of yourself for such a comment.

"So you DO think about me naked?" This playful banter made up the more positive side of your relationship as you pushed him towards the window. 

"I'll meet you outside in ten minutes. I have to convince my parents where I'll be for the next..." You waited for him to tell you a time as he would only shrug while she straddled the sill of the window. 

"You've gotta give me more than that..." 

"Just tell 'em my dad is giving you a great working opportunity for the rest of the summer. Not that much of a lie since I am quite a piece a work...said it himself before he left last week." Your heart ached to know he had been alone since then. With Sarah living off campus between semesters and Wheezie having been sent to boarding school by Rose for some semblance of a normal life, you and Rafe would truly be alone. So after agreeing, you could slip into his truck and act as his sponsor for the foreseeable future. 

You had visited Tannyhill enough times to feel at home to some degree. You knew it well and didn't need directions for any part of the estate, and yet, it now felt so different crossing the threshold to know you would be alone with him. Intimidating Rafe Cameron. You swallowed hard at the thought as the door closed behind you. 

"You can have any room you want...I'll sleep on the floor-" 

"What?!" 

"The whole point of this is to keep an eye on me. If we are on opposite sides of the house then I could leave, take a hit, and you'd never know." 

You hesitated. What harm was there in him being on the floor? You wouldn't have to think about him being beside you on the bed or wrapping his arms around you some point at night. You would be fine.

Right?

"Okay...I'll just use your room then." He nodded before leading the way to it. 

"I uh..." You turned to face him as you noticed him suddenly appear nervous. 

"I have a stash here..." 

"Okay, where is it?" 

He moved behind a floor length mirror in his room, pulling out a dime bag before handing it to you. Never before had you ever been this close to drugs, unless you counted the residue on Rafe, and it made your stomach twist at the thought. This powder, innocent looking enough, had been the cause of altering the caring boy you knew into a hardened asshole when he didn't get his fix. But his steps continued still until you had two fists full of his vices. 

"Anymore, scarface?" You teased as he cocked his jaw and led you to the bathroom and even the kitchen before confessing that was it. 

"Just get rid of it, yeah?" He spoke almost in dismissal while moving into the bedroom, your eyes distracted on him having undressed for bed, as it was nearly two in the morning by now, as you disposed of the drugs within the toilet. 

"You don't have to sleep on the floor, Rafe..." The words came out of your mouth before you could stop them. 

"I don't mind-" 

"I'll feel really bad. It's your room." 

"Are you sure?" You nodded, fighting the urge to ogle his torso as it was well taken care of. Muscles yearning for your touch all while you acted indifferent to what pulled your thighs together in a press of desperate friction left untouched once again. 

"Positive." 

"Dammit..." 

"Forget your nightlight?" He teased you as you ignored him. 

"No, I packed everything but a pajama shirt..." 

"Here..." He removed his from his chest and tossed it at the other side of the bed, unaware how this made your heart race. Not only did it leave him bare, it left his scent close enough to you that your pure thoughts would all be twisted to lustful visions that would certainly leave you awakening from a wet dream in the morning. 

"Can I hold you, like I usually do?" You nodded, finding comfort in his touch before he spooned against you, both of you quickly falling asleep. 

But it only lasted a short while. 

The sound of slamming cabinets and torn doors sent you upright just before dawn. Your feet were quick motion to its source as you realized Rafe was absent from the bed. 

"Where the fuck are you? Where did she put it?" He asked himself, skin already damp with sweat and words erratic while you carefully crest the corner. 

"Where are they?" 

"They're gone, Rafe..." 

"Don't lie to me! I gave them to you so I know you have them!" 

"I got rid of them-" You kept your composure even as he yelled to you enough to spit with every word. 

"That's bullshit!" He continued to tear through the house, knocking down decor and pictures in the process, sending the bones of the architecture to rattle with his thunderous steps and angered pulls of knobs and their near hinges, before ultimately turning his focus back to you as you had stupidly followed behind him. 

"Give it to me, I'm not fucking around..." 

"I don't have it, I flushed it-" 

"You what?!" He was not only upset. He was enraged. Consumed by this wrath as he pulled away from you and towards the bedroom. Picking up his phone, you narrowed your eyes while questioning him. . 

"Who are you calling-" 

"Barry. He'll bring the good shit-" You apprehended his phone and held it out of reach. 

"I can't let you, Rafe-" 

"Give me my phone, you bitch!" Your eyes narrowed. 

"I understand you are losing your mind a bit here but you you NOT get to call me that, Rafe-" 

"Then give me my phone back. Or I’ll call you a lot worse…" For this, you took the case off and the battery out, before drowning it in a vase of flowers, submerging the power source. 

"Then I'll just use yours!" He lunged for it, set on it's charger at the side of the bed as you were quick to rival him. But as you were shorter and further away, he managed to take hold of it first. You wrested for a second before pinning him beneath you. 

"You wanted me here, Rafe, so I'm gonna help you." 

"I don't want you here. I don't need you here. I don't need you. I don't meet anyone." You knew he may have believed this to a point but it wasn't the complete truth. Not really. It was the withdrawal. The need to do whatever was necessary to get what he wanted. 

"You might not feel that way." 

"They don't need me-" 

"I do." You spoke almost in a whisper as he had paused for a minute to analyze your words. It was a soft moment undeserved by him as you fought every urge in your body to kiss him. Even in this state. Knowing he needed the care you could offer, even more so.

 "I do, Rafe. So I'm not gonna let you sabotage yourself because you're-" 

"Get off of me-" 

"Not until you-" You were taken effortlessly from his waist and thrown in disregard before sprinting into the bathroom in the nick of time for his nausea to take him over completely. 

For hours, you sat at his side, dabbing the sweat from his skin and allowing him to nap in your lap between getting sick and being emotional. He would alter from sympathetic to pitiful and dramatic to reasonable, all while you never left his side. 

Having eventually fallen asleep along with him, you awoke to the smell of fresh coffee at your side as you realized he had carried you back to bed. But with his absence, you lept up in fear. Throwing yourself down the steps, you found him in the kitchen making breakfast, apologizing for the night before, while you bonded over a childhood favorite of Fruity Pebble pancakes and coffee. 

The rest of the day was spent reminiscing about your treasured memories as he would confuse your friendship in small romantic motions. Such things as pulling a loose stand behind your ear or taking your legs across his as you watched a movie. But it was never enough to validate anything more than a flirtation, which wasn't strong enough grounds for you to risk your relationship in its entirety for. So you'd only smile and be burned internally by the unmet passion, before continuing on. 

"Country club!" A voice called as you sat around the pool, feet dangling in the water, as you turned to find Barry making his way to the back of the estate. 

"We had plans, or did you up and forget about me for this fine piece of ass? Can't say I blame you if she's the reason..." He was shameless in checking you out as Rafe set himself in front of you. 

"Lost my phone. Been busy...think you should go-" 

"Why, when I have somethin' even she can't give you, huh?" He exposed one of those small little bags as you saw Rafe tense. A hand wrapped around his bicep only made him tense further. 

"Do you want to go through last night again, Rafe? Please-" But Rafe was quick to step forward. 

"Leave." You were proud of him as he made his way inside, but was quickly followed by Barry. A conversation in which you were forced in exclusion from, brought you only able to speak to Rafe when Barry's bike echoed in the background. 

"Rafe?" You asked nervously as he was bent halfway over the kitchen counter, cocaine untouched but tempting him on its surface. 

"There is only one thing as strong as my need for that hit..and either way...either way I can't..." 

"I know it's hard...But you don't have to do it-" 

"But I want to! I don't want to fucking hurt anymore! I don't want to feel anymore!" He now spoke more on pain than anger. 

"I have lost everything! And the only thing I can contribute is to…Barry's lifestyle as his best customer...And I am just taking you down with me...So go home..." Your eyes narrowed. 

"No." 

"You being here is only making this worse." He spoke behind clenched teeth. 

"So if I left, you wouldn't do a line? You wouldn't finish the bag off in an hour? Maybe two?" He spoke your name in warning as you continued, having reached your limit of his words as your idea of leaving him behind to what you were certain would be the last time was too much to bear.

 "What about when you abuse your limit, Rafe? Or when you regret it the next day? If you even GET a next day?! I'm tired of finding you like that! I'm tired of almost losing you!" Tears formed in your eyes as he fixated on the bag. 

"You're the only one-" 

"So what if I am?! I care about you, Rafe-" 

"Why?" He suddenly shot at ay you. "Nobody else thinks I'm worth saving so why do you?" You couldn't formulate a response. Not because you didn't have one, but because you had so many. But he took your silence as validation for his own words. 

"That's what I thought-" 

"Because my life isn't the same without you in it." You spoke as he nearly left the kitchen, turning back at your words. 

"Because believe me, you've tested tested enough. Where I should have spent more time by the pool, I spent in the emergency room praying to any God that would listen for you to just be okay! And I'm an idiot for it! I have lost everything because I care about you! Because you're good, Rafe! You are hurt and lonely, but you can be good!" He looked back to the bag again, jaw clenched as you were shameless to your tears. 

"You know what?" You suddenly took it in your hand, his feet quick to apprehend you before you moved away. 

"You want to take it? You want that high and that rush? Then don't expect me to watch it take control of you. Because I care about you too much to almost lose you, again-" You threw the bag at his chest before moving to leave. 

"I-" 

"No, Rafe, I'm not going to watch you-" You were taken by your wrist and pulled against him, lips silencing you as he spoke. You had imagined a kiss with Rafe your entire friendship. You hoped it would be some grand gesture or even a means of a confession. But in this moment, in desperation and emotion, you only cared to take advantage of it. And it showed on the way you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck just as he pulled your waist against him. 

You were dizzy by the time he pulled you against the counter, shirts leaving you both exposed as he took time at your chest while you fondled with his belt. But the second it came open, you were lifted to the surface recently against your spine before pulled back into him. 

"You've never left me-" He explained with a devoted hand to the back of your neck. "You've only ever fought for me...so I'm not fucking stopping until you know how good I can make you feel..." He was on his knees before you could eleven comprehend his words, as he guided your legs over his back. 

Sweat developed in the minute that quickly faded into a blur before he pulled you to an edge. The counter damp with your slick beneath you, the bend of his fingers in unison with his tongue ravaging your clit, all of it was evidence of the coming release he brought from you. But he wouldn't allow as he retracted as you announced how close you were. 

"I wanna taste you this way..." He pulled you down to the floor, bending you over the rim once again, before pulling apart your ass and leading his tongue back to your clit from behind. Your fingers ran through his hair as he purposely stared from over your perfect mounds, shaking as he slapped them or vibrating from his moans. 

"Every way..." His tongue teases closer to your ass, biting the cheek he'd left stinging, before redirecting his focus to his own pleasure. 

"Being with you is the only thing that makes me feel sane-its also what makes me want to use..." You turned to speak, but he silenced you with fingers entering your sex. 

"So I'm gonna inhale you...taste you...feel you until I overdose..." He pulled your jaw to face him. 

"And for that, I don't want you to save me..." He kissed you, using this distraction of a kiss to lead himself inside of you. 

"Shit-" He groaned in unison to your gasp as you rested your head on his shoulder and he wrapped his thick fingers around your throat. 

"I'm always so fucking high on you. Just you looking at me, so do you have any idea what THIS is doing to me?" 

"Rafe!" 

"Whatever you want, baby, it's yours. Just ask...just fucking ask and it’s yours." He spoke rather desperately as you began to work his cock, fingers asking for him faster and deeper. 

"You want me harder?" 

"Fuck. Me..." You managed to utter as he scoffed. 

"Fucking is momentary..." He bent you back forward. "I intend to make you mine in every fucking way though...every fucking position...every fucking room-" 

"Rage! Please! I'm...I'm so close I can feel it!" 

"Don't fight it baby, give it to me...I know you want to..." 

"Yes!" His hand tightens around your throat still. 

"YES, RAFE! JUST. LIKE. THAT." You became lost to the lust. Your body shamelessly thrashing before him as his grip was the only thing keeping you tethered. But as his hands weren't kept to just one part of you, you were reliant on the counter as well. He hiked your knee to the surface, leading himself even deeper. 

"Give me it! Let me have it." He withdrew his cock, using his fingers at a battering pace from behind, before the tush became too much to ignore. Squirt after squirt came your release as you watched him take it to his lip. 

"I'd much rather wear you instead of some line-" 

You turned to face him, stroking him as he grinned. 

"Want me to come, baby?" 

You nodded. 

"Then bend back over..." You denied him by moving on your knees instead. 

"If you take me that way, I'm gonna expect you to swallow." You joined while obliging, showcasing how talented your usually quiet tongue had proven to be. Tears in your eyes and spit collecting on your own knees would begin a sight too erotic for him to withstand as the roll of your gaze would bring him to that nearing precipice. 

"Fuck, you feel so good for me..." He confessed as you now alternated between your mouth and your fist for him. 

"Better me than any high?" 

"Shit-yeah!" 

"Then remember that, Rafe.." His eyes lowered to you. "Because if you so much as take a look at another dime bag..." You sucked him to the edge, tongue running his shaft and between his balls, before your hand spread that precum as he spoke your name in warning.

"I'll never let you come again-" You were forced onto the counter facing him, as his hand was on the back of your neck, forehead taking to his own at rest as his body was anything but still.

"I swear to God, baby...I'm too fucking addicted to you to want anything else." 

"Prove it. Come. Come, Rafe! I want it! I need it!" 

"Shit! Fuck! Yeah, yeah, heah!" And with the final buckles the warmth release would keep your mutual climax in silence until your tremors would settle enough for him to reclaim some semblance of an existence. 

"You touch another line and you'll never touch ME again, Rafe...but everyday you dont...You can do whatever you want to me-" He pulled your jaw within his grasp.

"I hope you didn't have any plans today...or the rest of the fucking summer because I have a feeling, I'm gonna keep having these withdrawls and your means for a reward for enduring them. I’ve already gone two days...and that was only one orgasm so we’re already behind, sweetheart." 

"Then what are you waiting for, Rafe? Take another hit…"

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @bethoconnor @belcalis9503

[ltbarnes]

Braces Are Breaking

Summary: Peter Parker does not have much family left, and the small part he has he protects fiercely. When he suspects someone is dating his sister, he’s determined to find out who it is. What he doesn’t expect is to do so under such dire circumstances.

Word count: 7.9k

Pairing: Peter Parker x adoptedsister!reader, Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Warnings: explosions, mentions of blood and minor injuries, mentions of sex, Peter being a little shit for a good moment

A/N: good of me to not post anything for almost two months just because I couldn’t finish a single story. i have more WIPs than what is acceptable at this point

Masterlist

Peter Parker does not have many people in his life. Not close ones, at least. Or now he does, maybe, with everyone at the compound and the team. But you were first—his sister. It doesn't matter that it's not by blood, he has not known anything else for as long as he can remember. His parents raised you as their own, and Peter loves you no less because of it.

And maybe it is because he used to have so few loved ones, people that he cared about and cared about him just as much back, that he holds onto you so tightly. Now, you're the only family he has. And yeah, Peter can admit that he's started to grow a makeshift family with the people he lives and works with. But you're his sister and that kind of bond is just a tad stronger than anything he has with the rest of them.

You've devoted so much of your time to him, neglecting yourself in such ways that Peter can't imagine ever repaying you for what you've missed out on. Interests, friends, your safety. He wants to make sure you're alright. Not only because he feels like he owes you and your parents that, but because you're the most important person in his life. He can't handle losing anyone now that his parents and May are gone.

You both were young when they passed away. And even with Aunt May taking you in as her own, she couldn't always be there. Taking care of two kids cost money that she previously didn't have, and more often than not she worked late nights that left you cooking on a stove you could barely reach just so Peter wouldn't go to bed hungry.

Not many people can blame him for feeling responsible for your safety and happiness. Even if he's your little brother, he protects you with a fierceness that overpowers the one an older brother would have. You're careless sometimes and often forget that you deserve what people crave of you too, maybe more than what all of them take without thought.

There came a time when he grew up for once, when he realized what you had sacrificed everyday for your younger brother. When Peter put on that mask, he was no longer depending on your care, and instead he could let you lean on him for a little while.

In the beginning, right after his newfound abilities revealed themselves to him, he would make things easier around the house in any way he could. With time his small acts of kindness developed from fetching your bag of chips from the kitchen without moving an inch to saving you from speeding cars and robbers. That was only once though, because since then Peter has forbidden you from walking alone at night even though you clearly disregard that ban. You're more careful though, he knows that.

You've known what he is for years. And maybe you don't really like him putting himself at risk like that, you even threw a shoe at his head during a particularly loud screaming match after the whole Vulture thing, but you've always been supportive. Too supportive sometimes, to the point where he had to give in and let you force him into moving to the Avengers compound when Tony offered him a place.

It's been hard on him, having you at a college campus hours away while he lives safely secluded in upstate New York. The security measures he nagged at Tony to install at your place did help a bit, he can admit that, but mostly he worries about wether or not you come home safely after walking home from a late class, if people are nice to you, if a frat guy has put something in your drink at some stupid party. Mostly he's scared that his enemies will find you, take you away from him for the purpose of hurting him. Only MJ can take away his worries, and that's just when he has a chance to see her ever since she started her classes at MIT.

Sometimes you come up to the compound for the weekend. Everyone notices how Peter's shoulders become a little less tight, his frown a little less prominent. Peter Parker loves his sister and not a soul has escaped that knowledge. Even Tony can admit, but only to himself, that he feels more at ease too when you're visiting because the goddamn kid can't stop fidgeting during the times you're not around.

Like now, for example, when you've just taken the drive back to campus after spending the Friday and most of the Saturday at the compound. Peter's been sitting quietly at the kitchen island, silently watching Wanda cook while Steve and Tony bicker on about some boring protocol.

"You lost in there, kid?" Tony asks, interrupting his conversation with the Captain abruptly.

Peter's eyes flicker hastily over to the man, clearing his throat from the thickness his hour of overthinking has brought. Not a word has been uttered, which is scarily abnormal for the young man. Usually the kitchen would be filled with seemingly endless descriptions of the latest version of some video game Tony could not give a damn about.

"I think Y/n is seeing someone," Peter blurts out.

A soft 'what?' escapes Wanda's lips, turning around with a wooden spoon in her hand, dripping tomato sauce into the pot while Steve raises an amused eyebrow. They share a look, a knowing one, that Peter misses entirely because he is focused on the warm evening light flickering outside of the window.

"What makes you think that?" Steve asks, clasping his hands over the counter.

Peter shakes his head, trying to rid himself of his frown. He does come across as a pouting child right now, he's aware of that. A kid crying for his mother when she's paying attention to someone else.

"I don't know, she's just...different. Like it's—sometimes she spaces out when we've talked the past month, but it's like she has this dreamy look on her face. She's thinking of someone," Peter forces out of himself, earning a warm chuckle from the red headed woman at the stove who's abandoned her cooking.

"Could help for her to get some. About time," Tony mutters, dipping his finger into the simmering sauce before Wanda has a chance to stop him.

"Don't say that, Mr. Stark." Peter scrunches his nose, closing his eyes.

Hands are held up in feigned innocence, raised eyebrows accompanying Tony's expression. "No harm done, kid. Was just a matter of time, having her around a bunch of horny college kids. You got a pretty sister, Parker."

"Tony," Steve sighs, sending a warning glare towards the man after seeing Peter's jaw clenched so tightly he's afraid the kid might shatter his teeth.

"I don't wanna think about that," Peter mumbles, gripping the counter in front of him.

Wanda clicks her tongue, uncrossing her arms over her chest to lay a gentle hand on his shoulder. "She is a grown woman, Peter. You have to let her make her own decisions," she says. "It's okay to look after her, but there comes a limit where you're crossing boundaries that should not be breached. And I do think she has learned how to handle herself by now."

"I just don't want her to be hurt."

"If it comes to that, we'll help you kick the punk down. But don't judge the guy before you meet him. If there even is one," Steve adds.

Peter nods, running a hand over his face, breathing in deeply. The guy who's stolen your attention better be a goddamn saint. He'll make sure of that.

The rooftop is cold, brisk and windy, as the golden evening light slowly fades into purple skies. You like sunsets, the endless pictures of them in your phone should work as proof enough, but right now all you can think about is the way your skin prickles with the breeze.

Your breath hitches in your throat, a soft yelp escaping your mouth, as strong arms wrap around your waist and lifts you from the ground. Cold metal seeps through the fabric of the sweatshirt you borrowed from him last night, palm splaying underneath the navy sweater over your skin.

"You scared me, Bucky," you say through a giggle, tugging at his arms to let you down.

He spins you around with both hands splayed out over the small of your back, greeting you with a soft smirk that he only reserves for you. Up until two months ago you believed he was incapable of being anything other than miserably grumpy.

Bucky nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, breathing you in deeply with a hand on the back of your head pressing you into him.

"Missed you, sweet girl," he mumbles, letting his left arm grip your side just a little harder.

"It's been a few hours, Buck. Saw each other during lunch," you say with a soft smile on your lips, because in reality you have no objection against the feeling of Bucky's hands on your skin.

He groans in answer, pressing his lips to your forehead before letting his palms wander up to your face. Your eyelids flutter closed, basking in the gaze of Bucky Barnes that can be warm when he wills it to. It always is around you.

"Hard having you around without laying my hands on you. That punk brother of yours really that big of a problem?" he mutters with a soft grin that tells you he's only half-serious.

"Are you kidding me? You know how he is. I think if he had his way no man would be allowed to approach me before I was thirty," you say.

"Wouldn't object to that," Bucky answers.

"You not included?" You smile.

"Me not included," he says with his lips hovering an inch from yours, turned up into a grin.

And there's nothing more you can revel in than the feeling of Bucky Barnes kissing you with a fever that leaves you weak in the knees and questioning if rom-com love really does exist after all. Bucky Barnes is yours entirely, and if he had his way he would plaster a sign on your forehead that tells everyone that you are his girl, and his only.

It is rather unbelievable, that the hot war veteran from the history books is currently holding you to his chest on a compound rooftop. Your sixth grade best friend would screech in excitement if she knew what you were doing right now. And the media would have a heart attack if they found out that the former assassin with a constant glare on his face can be the most beautiful man on the planet. That he can be so sweet, so tender and loving and gentle that you fear you might cry sometimes.

James Barnes is perfect in the way that he is just enough for you. In reality he is far from perfect as a person—he is rude, stubborn, impatient, self-deprecating, slightly violent and quite impulsive. But with you, for you, he is perfect. The only mishap in your relationship is the inevitable disapproval your little brother is going to have with it. You're quite sure it won't matter that much, the fact that it's Bucky who occupies your mind and time constantly, but more so the fact that any man is doing so.

"I can't believe I'm hiding on a rooftop from my little brother. I was supposed to have left half an hour ago," you say, gazing up at him with your arms thrown around his neck.

"I'll gladly show you off if you say the word," Bucky answers.

You shake your head, a soft smile on your lips that unwillingly betrays the ounce of fear you hold. Peter means everything to you, and it does scare you that he won't approve. He's so overtly critical of everything concerning your safety, including relationships and what not. A man with the history Bucky owns, and his many more years of life experience, could be factors that will leave your brother unhappy with it.

"Let's get you home, huh? Got a long drive ahead of us," he says, interrupting your momentary retreat into your thoughts.

"Us?" you ask.

"Ain't a chance in hell that I'm letting you drive  in the dark all alone. Need my best girl safe." Bucky let's his arm travel upwards, over your shoulders before squeezing you to his side. The moment is awfully reminiscent of his days out on the town with a bunch of 40's dolls, a sense of sentimental normalcy that he's not sure he wants back. Having you is much better.

"You're such a sap, Barnes."

Now, Peter wasn't really sure about his predicament about your alleged secret affair. Or calling it an affair would be to exaggerate, and misguide, but secret it was. When he told the people in the kitchen about his worries, they were more of a hypothesis than something sure. But now—now Peter is sure of it.

The way you giggle like a school girl each time the phone calls leaves no doubt in Peter's mind that his sister has a big fat crush on someone. The person even sent you a letter. A letter. He saw it while visiting your place a few days ago, your name written in fine cursive on the envelope. And yeah, maybe it was shitty of him to read it, but what kind of little brother would he be if he didn't snoop through your things?

God, sweetheart, you have stolen my every thought and replaced them until there is none but the picture of you. I long for you each night your head is not resting on my chest, warm and soft in my arms. My beautiful, sweet girl. I have not found, and will never find, the words for what wonder you are.

Who even writes that? He's not sure what kind of person you've got pining after you but it sure as hell isn't someone from this century. Peter didn't read everything because there came a point where he was too grossed out with the lovesick thing going on, and you would surely murder him if you caught him red handed.

He's safe now, though. The whole team has found themselves out on the field behind the compound, engaged in some kind of made up sport with a ball and a bat that in the beginning was supposed to be baseball but quickly lost every rule when no one could agree on them. Granted, it's hard combining 21st century rules with both 40's and Asgardian variants in one single game. And you insisted on avoiding any form of running for as much as you possibly could, resulting in Steve eliminating the element for participants who wished not to. 

It's messy and Peter has dirt on his clothes and he's pretty sure there's a stick nestling in Thor's hair. The game has been going on for a good hour, but no one seems to want to stop anytime soon. Most likely the day will end with a bone or two broken and maybe a concussion. He's kind of worried about you, because it seems no exceptions are made for none-Avengers when it comes to sports brutality. If it wasn't for Bucky grabbing a hold of your arm at the last second, Thor would have barged right into you.

"Hey, watch your step, Odinson! Almost knocked over her!" Bucky shouts, a large hand still holding onto your shoulder while you brush away grass from your leg with a chuckle.

"It's fine, James," you say, gently stepping away from him before the effect of his touch starts being much too noticeable.

Thor turns his attention towards your figure, allowing a sorrowful frown adorn his usually carefree face.

"I apologize, Y/n. It was not my intention to, uh, 'knock you over'," Thor says, nose scrunching when he tries to correctly rephrase whatever words Bucky used to describe the near accident.

"You don't have to apologize, Thor. 'S only grumpy man over here with the problem." You nod towards the scowling soldier behind you with a teasing smile.

You spot your brother chuckling from twenty feet away, abandoning the trio you've found yourself in to return to your post. Maybe you're just paranoid, but in moments like these you feel like Bucky's care for you becomes blatantly obvious. So obvious that Peter will notice something is going on between you and the 100-something-year old man.

"C'mon, let's get the game going again!" you shout, jumping in your place not out of excitement, but for the reason that you're growing increasingly cold in the wake of dusk setting upon the compound grounds.

A thoroughly hard ass game of constant need to display overconfidence in one's ability to run a lap around the field and competitive brawls of strength play out in the next twenty minutes. You're all sweating and panting—even Natasha who you never thought got winded. Quite frankly, your lack of superhuman abilities or any kind of sportsmanship is evident on your crouched figure in the middle of the field.

"You okay, sweetheart?" Bucky whispers, barely even leaning down enough for you to hear.

"Yeah...yeah, just a little tired," you breathe out. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom."

Bucky glances out over the still excitable players of the evening, assessing wether or not anyone would miss him if he came with you. He's missed having his hands on you the entire day, all because of your punk of a brother constantly popping up whenever he has a sinful thought of you walking around in his sweatshirt. And he never likes leaving you by yourself, wether or not it's for a mere two minute walk to the bathroom.

"Alone," you stress with a smug smile on your lips as you start walking backwards, letting your fingers brush his for just a second.

Bucky's face falls, a glare growing that normally isn't reserved for you but comes out in moments like these, when you deny him time with his precious doll. But for the sake of your wishes, he schools himself with a glance that he hopes sends the message of 'you're gonna pay for this later'. No matter how much he whines jokingly about the secrecy of your relationship, he really does understand your hesitance. After all, he hasn't found the courage to tell Steve yet about the woman he's head over heels for.

Maybe the jerk has noticed the slight change in mood whenever you're around, and the way an anxious night of thrashing and nightmares still comes with an okay day after, or how he has responded with a murderous growl at each of Natasha's attempts to set him up. Bucky understands that in those moments, it might be obvious how fucking whipped he is for someone, for you. Back in the days his charms were temporary and a means of having a pretty dame on his arm wherever he went, but rarely did it ever manifest as real affection.

Perhaps that is why he can't help but follow your figure becoming smaller with each step, already feeling the nervous tick in his limbs that comes with each of your absences. Those never really disappear until he can have his arms wound tightly around you, squeezing your soft flesh, trailing his lips over your skin, pushing himself inside of your tight heat. He's never as at peace as he is when you're near. It's torture knowing that whoever and whatever can hurt you when he's not there to protect you, and in that context he guesses he can relate to Peter.

Sometimes he feels guilty for worrying so much, being so unbearably overprotective that the constant nagging you hear is only a sliver of what runs through his mind. It's never that he does not believe you can take care of yourself—because you're so intelligent and kind and lovely, determined and frightening when you want to be. There hasn't come a time where you can't hold your own, and he beams with pride each time you get a chance to stand up for yourself.

Things have changed during his lifetime, and what used to be a man's duty is now merely an option. But whatever he feels for you, what rage and fury grows inside of him at the thought of your safety being severed, is not the result of societal expectations for what a man is to be for his woman. It's instinctual, a need and want that he does not think could ever disappear. Not even if you went and did the worst thing imagineable. Not even if you went with another man behind his back or shouted at him that you wish he was dead. Not even if you weren't his anymore.

And for a minute, Bucky gets lost in the game, in the brawl he has going with Sam about wether or not the latter cheated by running before Nat could hit the ball. He forgets for just a minute that you're not there, until the unmistakable sound of an explosion echoes throughout the grounds. It penetrates his skin, waves crashing into his chest as his heart stops beating for just a few seconds. The sound halts the game, forces nearly a dozen of alert gazes towards the buildings.

Wood clashes against ground as bats are dropped and playful happiness turns into guards risen, defense ingrained into the very cells of the people sprinting towards the compound. And maybe some of them have everyone's safety on their minds—the agents, cleaners, Tony, secretaries, Pepper. Any other day, moment, and Bucky would think about that too. But you're not here.

Lungs burn after seconds much too few for someone like Bucky to feel winded. Perhaps it's the growing panic, festering in his chest and eating away at the air that used to reside inside of him. He doesn't even see what passes him by, who follows him or keeps up or where people are going. The compound turns into a white tunnel, last streaks of sunshine coloring the walls pink and orange and Bucky doesn't see it even though you would stop a whole conversation just to point it out because you're not here.

You're not with him, instead somewhere inside of the smoke and splinters and inevitable fire that must have turned everything to dust. The thought is the only image inside of his mind, displaying so clearly that he's not sure if he's just imagining the worst or if the picture is what he sees in front of him. Not even the faint sound of your younger brother swinging past him registers, because Bucky is pushing everything and everyone out of his way as he accelerates towards the bathroom in the common area.

The fire alarm blares loudly, red lights coloring the hallways until it looks apocalyptic. Guns are raised in front of agents, careful movements and guards risen as they sneak through the compound in search of the source. There has never been an infiltration for as long as the construction has stood. Endless protocols have been worked through, demonstrated, picked apart. Every single person in the compound knows their role in the situation of an attack, but it seems everyone is a little out of place.

The smell of smoke creeps into Bucky's nose before he sees it. Coughs, deep and raspy and painful. Hushed talking and a shout. A nervous chuckle, but it doesn't matter to him because his ears are only searching for your voice. Black-clad strikers round the corner, attempting to hinder him from venturing any further. He can't hear what they're saying, and he doesn't give a single fuck wether or not he's allowed when you're not by his side.

"Y/n!"

His screams roar through the hallways, tears through the increasingly thick air that brings tears to his eyes and threatens to draw coughs out of his lungs.

And he keeps screaming, he shouts your name as loudly as he can because you're not answering and he can't find you. The trail of smoke grows thicker with each step, until he's closing in on the sterile white laboratory that he never steps a foot in because places like that hold too much weight in his memories.

It's empty, glass shattered and a small fire brewing and he sees that the explosion happened here but he still can't let himself calm down enough to reason. Angry shouts from the hallway, muffled by the blaring alarm, are pointed at the soldier as they desperately try to get him out of the area.

It takes a minute for him to sweep through the entire wing. And maybe he would have felt relieved if he didn't know that whoever caused the explosion is still out there, still amongst the walls of the compound. It forces him out, past the guards and towards the living room in the residential area.

And when he hears the voice of his friend, the friend that he's been forced to drag around for a century, it does nothing to calm him down, and nothing to ease the fear that you would already be too far gone to save.

"Buck!" Steve shouts, sprinting through the hallway towards the manic soldier. "They're in the living room!"

His light jog slows down as he nears Bucky, putting a warm hand on his shoulder before leading him out of the smoke. And perhaps Steve notices the tension in Bucky's shoulders, the incessant beating of his heart that has nothing to do with his frantic running. He makes no move to mention it.

Steve is much more at peace than Bucky. The latter has no room to think about the reason behind it, he only sprints towards where he only hopes he can find you. He needs you to be there, actually.

And then he enters the living room with frantic eyes searching through the small swarm of people gathered, searching for you. Some rookie agent is pushed out of his way harshly, in the way that Steve will scold him for later, but Bucky quite frankly doesn't give a damn about that right now. He'd take any scolding from the punk if it meant getting to you faster.

You can hardly breathe from the tight hold Peter has around you. Sometimes he forgets his strength, you do every now and then too, but in moments like these you allow him the reassurance he craves. If it means squeezing the air out of your lungs for him to wind down, you will gladly give it to him.

"I thought you were in there," he mumbles, clinging on just a little tighter while you try to suppress a wince.

"I wasn't. I'm okay," you whisper.

"You're not allowed to go anywhere alone now. Always gotta have someone with you," Peter adds, much to your dismay.

"It was an accident, Peter!" you exclaim, distancing yourself just slightly. "You're goddamn stubborn, d'you know that?"

The pouting glare on his face tells you much more than any words would, luckily, because Peter is ripped away from your line of sight and pushed aside before he has the chance to defend himself from your accusations. You barely perceive the offender before cold and warm arms wrap you up against a hard chest, a deep shudder escaping his lips while the scent of your shampoo takes over his senses.

"Hey!" Peter shouts, throwing his arms up in the air.

Bucky makes no move to acknowledge the now upset youngster. No, Bucky grabs your face and presses a wet kiss against your forehead, your cheeks, your jaw. His lips on your skin draws a faint giggle out from your mouth, nose scrunching in that gorgeous way Bucky can't get enough of.

The blood trickling down your forehead doesn't register until a few seconds later. A frown so deep it just might become permanent carves onto his face, letting his hands tilt your head until the wound is clear in front of him.

"You're bleeding," he says through a quiet growl. "You're hurt."

You gulp, letting a second pass by before your soft palm comes up to Bucky's cheek.

"I'm okay. I just bumped my head into a corner when I heard the explosion," you say softly. "It was just an accident in the lab, no threat. Everyone's okay."

Bucky barely listens to the words you're saying. All he sees is the indentation in your skin, taunting him with his presence somewhere else than by your side. He doesn't give a damn wether it's a paper cut or bones protruding out of your flesh—it's not supposed to be there.

His thumb runs over the small wound, collecting the drops of blood through a quiet wince from your lips. It smears on your skin, inching up towards your hairline.

"I need to clean up your wound," Bucky says mechanically, like he's retreating further into that place in his mind that festers on his misery and tells him that everything is his fault.

"What the hell?"

A collective mumble sounds through the room, eyes turned your way that you don't even have to ignore because Bucky takes up your entire line of sight. You see his glazed over expression. Your lips are pressed to his cheek the following second, fingers running softly over his stubble.

"I'm okay, James. I promise," you whisper, leaning your forehead against his and he flutters his eyes open.

"Oh my god," Peter gasps. "You fucking—you're dating my sister?!" he shouts, turning around abruptly with a groan.

"Hey, language, ladybug. There's seniors you gotta respect around here." Tony gestures around towards the two super soldiers, one entirely too engrossed with the presence of you in his arms to take offense.

It's Sam's desperate attempt to keep his laughter at bay that forces your gaze away from Bucky. For just a minute you forgot the presence of everyone else in the room, forgot that what the two of you have was supposed to be a secret. Somehow you haven't avoided the effect, the one that throws you into a space only you and the person in your arms can reside in.

"You're dating Bucky?" Peter asks, gesturing wildly to the man.

Your boyfriend's arm draws you into his side just a little closer, because while his reason tells him to lay it off for your brother's sake, there's another voice shouting at him to show everyone the pretty dame he managed to lure in.Who he belongs to.

"Buck?" Steve speaks up, a surprised look on his face that can be taken for neither displeasure nor happiness.

"Uh..." you breathe out, covering your eyes with your palm for just a second before you force yourself to meet the eyes of everyone in front of you.

Somehow everyone who's permanent residence is located somewhere else than the compound have been chased away from the room, leaving only the people who's taken your brother in like family.

"I guess...yeah," you nearly whisper. Why you sound so uncertain in the piece of your life that holds the most of your confidence is beyond you, but having a dozen of observing stares on your figure might just do that to someone.

"But he's—Y/n, he's old. It's Bucky, you can't—" Peter stutters, clenched arm on his hip with the other still pointing towards the now offending man with his hands on your body.

"Better get on with it soon, Parker," Tony says with an eyebrow raised.

What happens next you're not sure anyone could have predicted. The white strings fly through the air in a speed your eyes can't comprehend. It's not until the web forces Tony's arm to slam against the wall behind him that you register what Peter just did.

"Oh my god. Peter!" you scold, slipping from Bucky's hold with eyes bursting out of their sockets. You can't fucking believe he just webbed Tony to the wall like a petulant child.

"Well, that's a new side of you," Tony mumbles, breaking out of the sticky nets with the help of Steve, who casts a disapproving glare Peter's way.

The boy has the decency to look just a little embarrassed, with flushed cheeks and ears on the verge of red, but you can see it clearly on him that he doesn't regret it. He would probably do it again, because you know that boy and right now he's most likely finding it hard to control his feelings. He'd probably punch someone if he had the chance.

"Hey, kid," Bucky says, taking a step forward and it's evident that the move was a mistake. Peter inches back with a hardened frown on his face, jaw clenched so tightly you're slightly worried over the state of his teeth.

Your brother shakes his head, dropping his gaze to the ground. "I just—I need a minute," he mutters. "Sorry," he says bitterly before walking out of the room.

The place falls into painfully tense silence, silence that you can't stand. Everyone is either trying to avoid your gaze, pretending like the wall in front of them is a beautifully constructed artwork that deserves just an extra minute of observation, or blatantly staring at the two of you with a question mark above their heads. The latter is solely reserved for Mr. Stark, of course.

"How long has this been going on?" Sam speaks up, crossing his arms over his chest with a content smirk that he can't quite hide. Gods know how much the jerk has been nagging on Bucky to take a girl out for once, all the while he only longed to get home to you.

Bucky clears his throat, taking a step away from you to lean against the table behind him. You miss the warmth of his presence as soon as he leaves your side, exposing you to the awkward atmosphere of the room. No one is mad, you can see that clearly, more curious with the dramatic circumstances you've found yourselves in.

You hear Bucky tell the awaiting audience with a grumble in his voice. Mostly your mind is thinking of Peter. His reaction is the one you feared, that look of betrayal on his face. It doesn't feel right standing here before you've talked to him despite wanting to prolong it for as long as possible. Peter Parker is a sweet boy most of the time, but there's a temper hidden underneath the surface that comes out every once in a while.

"I'm gonna talk to Peter," you whisper in Bucky's ear, leaning up on your tiptoes.

He gives you a nod in answer. Not much is worse than having all the attention on himself, contrary to the attitude he kept 80 years ago, but he knows you despise it more. He refrains from pressing a soft kiss to your temple, watching you pad across the floor until he's left on the makeshift podium by himself.

It takes you a while before you find your brother rummaging around in the medicine cabinet. His hair is ruffled, he's run his hand through it a few times too many, but the tensing of his back, the straight posture, shows he's not made much progress in calming down.

The doorway is harsh against your flesh as you lean against it, digging into your side and you think it only feels that way because your nerves are running amok. However nerve wracking a presentation in front of the entire class is, it's no competition against talking serious feelings with your brother. Especially not when that brother is Peter Parker.

"What do you want?" Peter seethes, back turned while reading the label on a brown glass bottle.

"Peter, don't be that way. Please," you say softly with a sigh.

He shrugs, shaking his head so subtly you almost miss it. He's stubborn and it will take a lot of pleading from your side to get him to understand. It's always been that way, bargaining and comprising. Ever since you were a child you've been folding for his sake.

"I don't think you're wrong by being upset. I know you—you've always been protective, I know that." You gulp. "And James is older, he is. But not much, not so much that it makes a difference."

Peter grips the bottle in his hand, letting his movements come to a halt as he stares right down at the small letters inscribed on the back of it.

"He's the loveliest person, Peter. He's so good to me," you whisper, unable to stop the corner of your lips from quirking upwards. "I hope that—I want you to see that."

He gulps, tightening his hold on the counter while flexing his arms, rocking back and forth on his heels before shaking his head once more.

"Sit," he tells you without turning around.

"What?"

"Sit down." He nods towards the counter on the other side of the room. Your eyebrows furrow, but you make no move to disobey his sudden orders.

Your legs dangle as you hoist yourself up, glancing towards your brother as he pulls out cotton pads and band aids from the cabinet above him.

"You don't have to do that. It doesn't hurt," you say, running the pads of your fingers over the blood that's slowly drying.

"Just...let me do this," Peter says through a thick gulp, still avoiding your gaze as he pours sterilizing alcohol onto the cotton in his hands.

It stings as it touches your wound, lurching you backwards just an inch. Peter has a concentrated frown on his face as he cleans away the blood with a gentleness not many people possess. Despite the upset and anger, he finds it in himself to be soft. That's maybe what you love the most about him.

"I'm not mad at you," he mumbles after a good three minutes of silence.

Your eyes flicker up towards him, awaiting for any kind of continuation of his sentence.

"I've known you've been seeing someone for a while now. 'S just...weird knowing that someone else gets that much time with you. Bucky's fine, I guess. Still think he's too old for you, and he's trouble, you know I've told Tony that before—"

With a sigh you lean against your brother, wrapping your arms around him with a squeeze a bit tighter than what's comfortable even for an enhanced person like him. Cutting off his words before he can delve further into the "I like him, but" train. It's the sentiment that matters, right?

"I love you, d'you know that?" you say.

"Debatable," Peter manages to wheeze out.

A soft knock on the doorframe tears your attention away from him, letting your arms relax until they're resting by your side once more. You can't help but gaze lovingly at the man leaning against the doorway. Peter notices. He wants to puke into the trash can a few feet away. Maybe punch the guy staring at you just as warmly back.

"Am I interrupting something?" Bucky asks, crossing his arms over his chest while glancing over at the now tense Peter.

To your surprise, Peter is the one to answer the question before you even have a chance to formulate a coherent thought in that cloudy mind of yours.

"No. Actually, can I talk to you for a bit?" he asks, stepping away from the counter while nodding out towards the hallway.

Bucky gulps, giving a single nod that follows the furrowing of his eyebrows. However doubtful you are of your brother's intentions with the conversation, you let a giggle slip out when Bucky sends a pleading glance over his shoulder with a whispered 'help me'.

"I heard that," Peter shouts from the hallway.

Leaning against the wall closest to the door, strings of nearly comprehensible sentences single out through the murmur of voices. Words are heated and oftentimes not, exchanged with sincerity and an underlying bitterness that fades with the topic.

It's bad to eavesdrop, you're well aware of that, but you can't help from it when the subject of the conversation most likely is you. The fact that your little brother is trying to threaten your twice as big and almost old boyfriend is hilarious and very endearing, if it wasn't for the truthfulness behind Peter's words.

A good two minutes in, the hit you took to your head really starts to be felt to the point where your sight blurs just an inch. With a hand to the wall guiding your steps, you make your way back towards the counter where you previously sat. Listening in is no priority any longer when you desperately try to will away the stinging pain of alcohol in your wound and the throbbing ache in your forehead. Besides, the conversation is private after all.

Bucky tries and succeeds in keeping a smug smile away from his face as Peter talks with carefully chosen words and an underlying apprehension lurking behind them. After all, he does care about what Peter thinks of him more than anything, but the concern that comes off as anger means that you only have one more person who cares about your well-being. He can't be irritated with that, despite how much he's wanted to throw the kid out of the compound grounds the past few months.

"Look, kid," Bucky speaks up, uncrossing his arms from where they were resting on his chest.

"Don't call me kid," Peter mutters, glancing back towards the room you're in.

"Sorry, sorry." Bucky puts his hands up innocently. "Look, Peter—you're doing a damn fine job of taking care of your sister. I had sisters too, you know, back in the days. And I would take out the punks they were seeing out in the alleyway behind our house and hold them against the wall. Wasn't as peaceful as you, I guess."

Peter raises his eyebrows just slightly, because he doesn't want Bucky to see the amusement in the moment when he's supposed to be intimidating. Instead he crosses his arms, biting down on his inner cheek.

"I understand. And Y/n, she's—she's a little reckless and can be damn stubborn, and I know that you only want what's best for her." Bucky breathes out through his nose, shaking his head while looking down at the ground. "I want that too, more than anything. I'm head over heels for that girl, you know. 'S my whole goddamn world."

A thick gulp passes through Peter as he avoids the other man's gaze.

"Being with me is a tough job. Have loud nightmares and half the world hatin' me, but your sister—she takes it like a champ. And I would never put her in danger. 'S the last thing I'd ever do. She’s the best thing I got going for me and I don’t want you to think that I’m not doing everything I can to treat her right.” Bucky swallows the thin air, glancing up at Peter through his lashes, waiting for some kind of response.

"You never talk this much," Peter mumbles after a few seconds too long of silence.

A harsh puff of air escapes from Bucky's nose, head leaning back against the wall with a nearly invisible smirk of amusement on his lips.

"Yeah, sure don't," he says.

"I just get scared, you know?" Peter whispers, looking down at his feet. "My whole family's gone."

Bucky nods slowly. The two of you have been through more grief than a couple kids should be able to endure. Sure as hell ain't gonna let neither you or Peter fall ill again.

"It's not you. I think—I think maybe it's a little weird. But you're a good man. I know that," Peter tells him. "But if you ever do anything to upset her, and I mean just forgetting to text her good morning or something, I'm not gonna be this nice."

"Well, get in line, punk. Have a whole team of people waiting to beat me up if that ever happens," Bucky says. "They care about her too, you know. You have a whole dozen looking out for her. Doesn't always have to be on your shoulders."

Peter nods reluctantly. It's something he knows deep down—that he's too overbearing sometimes. Everyone is not out to get you. And if they are, there's a whole bunch of scarily strong people there to protect you and the little family he has left.

"Just don't—don't, like, kiss her in front of me or anything."

"Can't promise that," Bucky answers. You walk in looking all gorgeous and there's not much he can do about it, little brother there or not.

"I'll send that letter you wrote Y/n to every newspaper in the country if you do that," Peter threathens.

"Letter?" He furrows his brows, standing silent for a good ten seconds before he realizes to just which letter Peter alludes.

A sudden thump and the sound of clattering against floor can be heard through the hallway, tearing them away from their conversation and into the room beside them. The sight of you leaning over the counter, a sway in your stance, draws Bucky up to your side in a second.

"Hey, hey. Are you okay, sweetheart? You need to sit down?" he asks, hand resting on your back while taking on the full of your weight against his side.

But when you gaze up at them, it’s not with pain or helplessness on your face. No, you’re fuming. Peter is taken back with the rare expression of anger, so much that he stows away the realization that Bucky genuinely do care for you more than he’s seen anyone care for someone before. Even more shocked he is when a punch, though weak in comparison to what he usually receives, reaches his shoulder.

“Ow! What did you do that for?” Peter shouts, staring down at the target of your anger before sending a murderous glare your way. It has never been more obvious that you are siblings.

“You read Bucky’s letter?!” you say, hitting him again with Bucky’s hand resting on your shoulder, holding you back with a poorly suppressed smirk on his lips. “That was private, you asshole!”

The color drains from the young man’s face, turning his brown eyes into comically wide orbs. He takes a step back, averting his gaze from yours. If he knew you were listening in on them, like the little shit that you are, he would have never even mentioned it.

“You know what? Great to see you two. Lovely couple,” Peter stutters out, backing towards the door. “Approval granted. Have I mentioned how beautiful you look today?”

His voice fades out with the distance growing, until Peter Parker is entirely absent from the room. A chuckle rumbles from the man behind you, earning a soft swat to his chest as you lean against it, letting his arms engulf you from behind with a smile on your face.

“Glad to know he’s coming around,” you say.

Your Bucky laughs, muffled by your hair against his lips. And so do you, because how could you not when the warmth nearly spills out of his mouth?

“My beautiful, sweet girl,” he mumbles. “Still haven’t found the words to describe what wonder you are.”