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wearebothdrunk · 3 years

Text

“You will always be an exception to my rule”

Pairing: Bucky x fem!reader

Word counting: 1787

Warnings: fluff; some fight scenes.

summary: You go on a mission with Zemo, Sam, and Bucky to Madripoor, but things don´t go as the plan.

A/N: I tried to rewrite Madripoor´s mission but with Bucky´s girlfriend (you) on it. Hope you liked it!!! Requests are open.

*gif not mine*

You and Bucky have been dating for four months. You and he met at one of your training sessions at the Avengers building. You were part of S.H.I.E.L.D., but you liked to break the rules too much, so most of your missions were to help Sam. You two were very close, so when you and Bucky started dating, Sam would tease you both and get very protective of you. "Y/N, Bucky has made a lot of enemies in his life, please be careful!" he would tell you.

Sam trusted Bucky, but he didn't trust his enemies.

You never gave much thought to that. You knew it wasn't his fault and that you could defend yourself.

With everything that was going on with the super soldiers, Bucky had to go on a mission to Madripoor with Zemo and Sam.

" I have to go to Madripoor tomorrow, babe" Bucky said putting your hair behind your ear.

"Okay. What time do we leave?" you said

"oh, you are not going is to dang-" you interrupted him

You gave him the look that clearly said don´t even try.

"6 AM," he said mumbling

" Okay, I'm gonna pack," you said, kissing him on the cheek.

* next day *

The four of you got out of the car, and when you looked up all you saw was a private jet right in front of you.

"Is this yours?" sam asked Zemo

"yes, now get in," Zemo said

you were still staring at the plane and smiling. You saw Bucky's eyes looking at you out of the corner of your eye. You looked at him and he smiled.

"Those sunglasses make you so hot babe," you said. He smiled, looking down blushing, and kissed your hand.

You got on the plane. You sat in front of Bucky, Zemo in the other seat, and Sam behind you.

Zemo was explaining the details of the mission to you three. It wasn´t complicated, it was in and out, straight and fast. The only problem was being able to pretend to be someone else you never met, but you were trained for all kinds of problems, so you stayed positive.

"And you Bucky, you're going to have to bring back the person that you swear is no longer a part of you," Zemo said.

You looked confused at Zemo and then at Sam and then at Bucky. They were both silents as if accepting.

" No way! No fucking way you're going to put Bucky to do that-" you were interrupted by Bucky's comforting hand on your knees.

"It's okay," Bucky said, looking into your eyes to comfort you. You knew that he wasn't comfortable with the situation but you also knew that there wasn't much you could do. You clasped both your hands over his and he gave you a small smile. You looked at Zemo in a way that made him realize that you weren´t happy with the situation.

After three hours you finally arrived in Madripoor. Sam was the first to leave the plane, and right behind him were you and Bucky. Zemo was the last to leave the plane because he was saying goodbye to the butler.

"Shit, I forgot something! Go ahead, It'll be a minute" you said, getting back on the plane. You were alone with Zemo. You looked out the window of the plane and saw that Bucky was already inside the car with Sam.

When Zemo was going to the exit door you put your arm in front of him, blocking the exit. He looked at you confused. "Can I pass?" he asked you sarcastically. "If you do anything bad to Bucky or if you're in on one of your crazy schemes, I swear to God I will kill you the second I see you," you said, looking him right in the eye. He swallowed. "Don't worry, I won't stand in your way. Now can I leave?" you raised your arm and letting him pass.

The four of you were on your way to your destination. Meanwhile, you were already dressed for the mission and ready.

You entered through the bar. You and Bucky had to be strictly professional on this mission, there was no margin for error. The two of you could not let people realize that he was not the Winter Soldier. When you were passing the bar´s door, you felt a soft touch on the back of your hand, it was Bucky. It was killing you not to be able to look at him and tell him that everything was going to be fine and that he was safe.

After a few minutes, Zemo gave the signal for Bucky to attack. It was painful to watch. Fortunately, you were able to control yourself. When he was done, he looked at you making you feel calmer.

You went up some stairs towards a room that had a woman and 4 men. You looked around for exits in case things went wrong, but there were none. You then started to plan all the possible scenarios in your head when you were interrupted by the woman.

"A woman? In your super squad, Zemo? " she said.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna kick your ass" you said

As you said this, two of the security guards started walking towards you, and then you heard Bucky taking a wrong step, the whole room heard. You kept looking directly into Shelby's eyes. She made a little movement with her hands to make the security guards standstill.

She looked at Bucky and Zemo.

He fucked up the mission.

Shelby looked at Bucky rather suspiciously.

" Let's see what we have here," she said looking at Zemo and approaching Bucky. " A soldier trained by HYDRA to kill his enemies and who is controlled by a few simple words." she continued, grabbing Bucky's chin as if he weren´t a human. You felt your blood running throw your veins. She had zero right to do that. " And to make it better, he has a metal arm.". She began to touch Bucky's metal arm. He didn't even blink. You felt your anger rising at seeing Bucky being treated like that, you just wanted to put a bullet in her head. Your fist began to close in order to control your anger. " If our deal still stands, I'm going to have to check my offer. I don't want some soldier trained for war, as you can guess, I'll have to check that this is indeed the winter soldier.". she continued.

Zemo seemed motionless and you and Sam were quite confused. You looked at Sam make him a sign that you used on your missions together. If this goes to shit, we have to step in.

She moved closer to Bucky whispering to him "kill her". Bucky looked at her but never out of character. You looked at Sam giving him the final sign. Bucky approached you, looking you straight in the eye and completely emotionless. Is this how he felt when he was the Winter Soldier?

You looked at him a little scared, but you knew that he wouldn't hurt you. As he came closer to you the more your heart raced.

Sam looked at the two of you so that he knew when his cue was. Bucky slowly took out his knife that was stuck in his belt. You looked at what he was doing and realized that you would have to protect him from the two security guards behind you. When he finally took the knife out of his belt, you turned around and punched the two men behind you. Sam did the same to the other two, and Bucky threw the knife towards Shelby who already had a gun in her hand. You and Sam had already taken care of the security guards.

" Let's get the fuck out of here," Sam said.

You went out to the back door because it wouldn't be long before some of the other security guards saw what was going on. As soon as you left the building you got into the car that Zemo had arranged for you to escape.

"Great plan," Zemo said ironically

" What did you want me to do?! kill her!? " Bucky said angrily

"Anything but kill Shelby!" Zemo said.

" Consider yourself lucky we didn't leave you thereafter what you put Bucky through. So shut up because we just saved your life" you said.

Zemo shut up.

You were sitting next to Bucky in the back seat. You put your hand on Bucky's thigh. "Are you okay?" you asked in a low voice. He looked at you and gave you a small smile. " Yes, don't worry.". You smiled at him and intertwined your fingers in his, leaning your head on his shoulder as he kissed you on the forehead. You spent the whole trip like that.

When you finally arrived at the hotel, the two of you went straight to the room where you were going to stay. You were super tired.

"I'm going to put on my pajamas and brush my teeth babe," you said to him

You then went to the bathroom leaving the door almost closed. When you came out you saw Bucky standing on the end of your bed with his hands clutching his head.

"Hey, Bucky, what's wrong?" you said worriedly.

"Nothing babe," he said not lifting his head.

you lowered yourself to his level. " I know you had promised yourself that you wouldn't be the winter soldier anymore. I'm sorry, maybe we should have done things differently and..."

"I don't regret saving you. I would never hurt you, not even for a mission. You will always be an exception to my rule," he said, raising his head and looking sincerely into your eyes.

You continued to look at him. You didn't know what to say. You never thought Bucky would be so sincere with you. You kept looking at him. "I love you, Buck," you finally said. It was the only thing that felt right at that moment. You just wanted him to know how much he meant to you.

"I love you too Y/N," he said.

He leaned over so that he could kiss you. You smiled.

"Shall we go to sleep?" he said

" yes, please!" you said.

You both got up. You leaned your head on his chest and hugged his waist. He pulled you into his arms and the two of you fell asleep. It felt like there was no one else in the world but the two of you.

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#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky imagines #Marvel imagines #Marvel fluff #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #Sebastian stan imagine #Imagines

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baubabble · 4 years

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“Diamonds and Dances” Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Summary: You and Spencer used to date at the Academy. When you graduated, you broke it off. Later, when you are assigned to the BAU, old feelings resurface. When Hotch assigns the two of you to go undercover together at an event, how will those feelings evolve?

Word Count: 5258

Warning: None

Song I Wrote To: “Cherry” by Harry Styles

Note: My first attempt at writing Spencer! Thank you for all the love on my Hotch series!

-------

“If you love somebody, let them go, for if they return, they were always yours. If they don't, they never were.”― Kahlil Gibran

The case had finally hit a dead end.

You and the rest of the team were sitting in the Los Angeles FBI Field Office, staring at the ceiling. Four couples had been brutally murdered at local events over the past sixth months and so far, the local agents had nothing. When Garcia was given the request for assistance, Hotch had taken the case immediately.

You had been at the BAU for more than a year now and you had never been this frustrated. You could tell that the more seasoned agents such as Morgan and Rossi were just as annoyed that no leads were surfacing as well.

Spinning lazily in your chair, your eyes fell on Reid as they usually did. Spencer Reid was the one that got away in more ways than one. You and the doctor had met at the Academy and instantly hit it off. The two of you had dated for almost a year before you had broken it off. Spencer was going to the BAU and you were going to sex crimes. It was just the way it had to be. You were happy to make a clean break rather than trying to tackle a complicated relationship.

That is until Strauss had requested you to join the Behavioral Analysis Unit. You had been hesitant at first for many reasons. Then, Aaron Hotchner had called you personally and encouraged you to take the position. He was aware of your history with Reid and said he would do his best to make sure the environment was as professional as possible.

Which is how you found yourself at a crossroads with your current case. “I’m about to shove pencils in my eyes,” Garcia said from beside you. Penelope had been asked to join the team on this case due to the unsub’s signature at hacking into security systems and traffic cams.

“You too?” you asked, turning to her.

“My brain has never felt tired before,” Garcia said. “Is this normal?”

“I think we all need some rest, Baby Girl,” Derek said as he rolled over to Penelope and began massaging her shoulders. You watched the action with a hint of envy. There was too much going on inside your head for anything right now. Pushing back from the table, you stood up.

“I need some air,” you announced and headed out of the conference room. The team watched after you for a moment before returning to their work, except one member’s eyes remained fixed on your exit.

------

Spencer Reid was the best problem solver the team had.

He never had problems with finding the missing puzzle piece in the case or analyzing a criminal’s motives. However, there was one problem, he couldn’t quite crack.

You.

Reid had never gotten over your breakup. He sat awake for nights after you had broken it off trying to figure out what he had done wrong. He had confided in everyone he knew. His mother said that you just weren’t the right person for him, but Spencer disagreed. You were perfect for him, perfect for each other. He didn’t know what went wrong. One day the two of you had been smiling, laughing, and then it was like a switch had flipped and you just ended it.

Then when you had joined the BAU, hope reentered Spencer’s mind. Perhaps this was a chance to tell you how he felt and maybe even rekindle something from years before. However, those thoughts were quickly dismissed when he overheard a conversation you were having with Penelope about a man named Robbie, your new boyfriend.

Watching the way your face lit up when you spoke about the new man in your life felt like ice to his heart. He remembered when you used to look like that when you spoke about him and now it was reserved for someone else. Shortly after this, he had confided in JJ about the issue, finally expressing his thoughts to another member of the team.

“It’s been years, Spence,” JJ had told him, rubbing his back affectionately as he sat on her couch watching Henry play with a new toy Will had bought him. “It’s normal for people to move on.”

“But I haven’t,” Spencer had said. “I haven’t, JJ, and I don’t know if I can handle seeing her every day and knowing she’s with someone else.”

“Who knows,” JJ had said, “maybe the universe will be in your favor.”

“You know I don’t believe in any of that.”

“Maybe just this once you can,” JJ had said before squeezing his arm and then dropping the subject altogether.

------

You stood out on the terrace of the field office, listening to the bustling city around you.

You never liked Los Angeles. It wasn’t like DC, there were too many people, too many skyscrapers, and the grating sound of traffic always made you want to scream. When you were working in sex crimes, you would head to the roof when things got too complicated to try and clear your mind. Most of the time it would work, other times, such as now, would just make you more irritated.

“You know, I’m not sure the air in this city is the best for clearing your head,” Hotch said as he exited out onto the terrace. You smiled to yourself as you stared out at the City of Angels.

“Did Penelope tell you to check on me?” you asked as he joined you at the railing.

“Maybe,” Hotch said with a shrug. “Are you okay?”

“Just frustrated,” you explained. “It’s been a while since we’ve been at such a big roadblock.”

“I wasn’t referring to the case, (Y/N),” Hotch said with a knowing look. You sighed, turning to look at him. “I’ve noticed you’ve seemed out of sorts for the past couple of weeks.”

“Which means the rest of the team has too,” you figured.

“Maybe, but they won’t confront you about it.”

“But you will?” you asked, amused.

“I’m your boss, it’s my job,” Hotch said. You smiled at that. “I’ve just seen a change in you and I’m assuming it is to do with your personal life.”

“Isn’t it always?” you asked with a chuckle. “I’m okay, Hotch. Just going through the awkward phase that happens after a breakup.” Hotch nodded in understanding.

“Ah, you and your boyfriend ended things,” he realized.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to make a big deal about it. Especially at work,” you said with a look that conveyed more than the words you were saying.

“I completely understand,” said Hotch. “On the brighter side, I think we may have an idea on how to draw the unsub out.”

“Am I going to like it?” you asked. Hotch grimaced. “I’ll take that as a no.”

-------

You were right, you definitely didn’t like it.

“Undercover?” you asked as you leaned against the wall of the conference room. Spencer sat in his chair across the room from you, avoiding eye contact.

“It’s the best idea we’ve been able to come up with,” Rossi said, “plus, with your work in sex crimes, you have the most undercover hours next to Emily.” You held your tongue before you could suggest why Emily just couldn’t do it. “You are the unsub’s type and so is Reid. If we are correct about the profile and where he is hitting next, the two of you should be the perfect lure.”

When Hotch and Rossi explained that you and Spencer would be going undercover as a married couple to the next charity event in hopes of finally catching Daniel Hill, the unsub, you were less than thrilled. This would not be your first time going undercover, that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that you would have to pretend to be married to Spencer and by the looks of it, he seemed even less than thrilled about the situation.

“Is this going to be a problem?” Hotch asked, glancing between you and Reid.

“No, Sir,” you said and Spencer shook his head.

“It may be a little bit awkward with (Y/N)’s boo,” Morgan joked and Penelope kicked him under the table. When you didn’t laugh, Derek realized what the look on your face meant. “Oh…(Y/L/N), I didn’t realize…”

“It’s fine,” you said, pushing off the wall. “Robbie and I are done. It’s been done for a bit now and I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with so none of us have to stay in this city any longer.”

“Amen to that,” Emily said.

“I’m going to send debrief packets to your hotel rooms,” Hotch said. “The event is tonight so I need you to be ready.”

“Yes, Sir,” you and Spencer said at the same time. Hotch then dismissed the rest of you and you headed for the door, needing to get back to the hotel and start preparing for the evening. Spencer caught up to you as you walked through the office.

“Hey,” he said, pulling you to a stop, “are you going to be okay with this?”

“Yes, Spencer,” you said. “It’s our job and we’ll get it done.”

“I know, but we haven’t really worked closely together since you joined and to put on an undercover operation like this…” he trailed off, but you could tell what he was thinking. You always could.

“Spencer,” you said softly, “do me a favor, okay?”

“Anything.”

“For the next ten hours or so, let’s not be (Y/N) and Spencer. I agree that we have never truly talked about what happened between us since I joined the team, but tonight is not the time. I want to, I do, but we need to get through this night. So, until we get this son of a bitch, we are just two agents on a mission. No baggage. Deal?” Spencer let out a breath, his eyes narrowing slightly as he mulled over your words. Eventually, he nodded.

“Deal.”

-----

The undercover packet had arrived just as you stepped out of the shower.

It was a basic cover. You and Spencer would be attending the event as Mr. and Mrs. Kelling, a wealthy couple from Maine. Your alias, Miranda Kelling, was nothing like you and that was how you preferred it. The more you could distance yourself from an undercover mission, the better. Spencer was playing Anderson Kelling and he was the president of a tech conglomerate that Garcia was writing up now. At least he would be able to cover for the both of you if anyone asked any questions.

A little bit later, a knock came at your door, and you were met with a smiling Penelope. In her hands was a white garment bag. “Please tell me it’s not pink,” you said as you let her in.”

“Oh, please,” Garcia scoffed. “You act as if I don’t know you at all. Undercover or not, I know you would never wear pink.” You laughed quietly as Garcia laid the bag out on the bed and unzipped it.

The dress was simple. A dark eggplant color that was low in the back and high at the neck. The slit was tasteful and knowing Garcia, it would fit you perfectly. However, while it was beautiful, your heart jumped just looking at it. The color of the gown was the same color as the dress you had worn on your first date with Spencer when he had taken you to a film festival. Whether Penelope knew that or not, didn’t matter. You knew it would matter to him.

“Do you like it?” Garcia asked. You nodded, unable to speak. “I can get something else if you don’t.”

“Penelope, it’s great,” you said, “really. Please tell me you have shoes to go with it.” Garcia then smiled and held up the other bag in her hands.

“Strappy or pumps?” she asked, shaking the bag before you. You gave in and laughed along with your friend as you let her accessorize you for the gala.

It was another hour before Garcia left to meet up with Morgan and JJ who were outfitting their security van that would be parked in the loading zone of the venue. The next time someone knocked on your door. You knew who it would be.

Pulling the door open, Spencer stood there with his hands in his pockets and his signature smile. You stepped aside and he entered, looking around the room awkwardly. “Did you read through the packet?” he asked, trying to make conversation.

“Twice,” you assured him. “Is that why you’re here? To make sure I did my homework?” you asked, amusement in your eyes. He rolled his eyes and you could tell he was starting to loosen up a bit more.

“I just wanted to make sure we were on the same side for the cover,” he explained “And to give you this,” he said as he dug into his pocket and produced a small velvet box.

“Ah,” you said, realizing what it was. He handed it to you and you took it quickly, placing it down next to the necklace Garcia had brought for you to wear. You didn’t want to open it in front of Reid. Everything was already awkward enough. “So, Mr. Kelling,” you began, “tell me about your company.”

The two of you went back and forth asking questions about each other’s covers. Pretending to be other people was actually helping you talk to him. Thinking of him as this imaginary husband was much easier than staring into those warm brown eyes and seeing the man who once held you like you were the most important thing in the universe.

“You know,” Spencer said as he lay on his back on your bed, “Morgan was supposed to do this with you.”

“Derek? Undercover as a tech guy?” you asked with a laugh. Reid sat up and looked at you as you sat at the small table, your file in your hands. He smiled softly as you chuckled. “That would have been something to see.”

“Maybe next time,” Spencer said. “You know, once he’s had more time to prepare. Hotch asked me because I didn’t have to do any additional research. I would have said no, but we need to find this guy and since we’ve already gotten his accomplice, I just thought—”

“Spencer,” you said, cutting him off, “you’re running on fumes.” He took a breath. That was something you always said when he started rambling when he got nervous. It was also something he did when he was avoiding what he was actually saying.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you said, “but just for the record, I’m not upset you were assigned to do this mission with me.”

“You’re not?” he asked. You shook your head.

“Nope,” you said and it was the truth. In fact, you were just incredibly nervous about being this close to him for the first time in years. “So stop stressing. Everything is going to work out fine.” You got up and approached him. You gripped him by the shoulders and looked at him in the eye. “Now, go put on your tux so we can get this bastard.”

------

You stood in front of the floor-length mirror as you fussed with the gown.

Garcia sure did know how to pick ballgowns. The deep purple dress fit you perfectly. Paired with the nude heels and the light jewelry, you looked as expensive as Miranda Kelling was supposed to be. The large diamond sat on your left hand felt way too heavy. You lifted your hand to your face, tilting it so the diamond glittered in the low light.

When you had first lifted the lid to the box, your eyes had widened at the sheer size of the diamond. Apparently Rossi knew someone in LA with ties to a jeweler and you were renting the piece for the evening. Just placing it on your finger felt...wrong. And not just because of the price, but because you imagined the first time you wore a wedding ring it would on your actual wedding day and not for a sting.

The thought of Spencer having a matching band on his left hand sent a thrill through you that you weren’t expecting. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t thought about it in the past. When the two of you were together at the academy, the subject of marriage had come up frequently. It was always said with a bout of laughter afterward. Neither of you had ever said anything to make the other think that you were being serious, but at times, you definitely were. Snapping out of your thoughts, you finished your look with a swipe of lipstick and then headed for the door.

Stepping out into the lobby of the garish hotel, you spotted Rossi immediately. He was dressed as a chauffeur as he would be the one to take you and Reid to the event to keep up appearances. Walking around the corner, you finally saw your date for the evening. Spencer wore a perfectly tailored tuxedo. His hair was combed and his shoes shined in the glittering light of the chandelier that swung above him. Hearing the clicks of your heels, he turned towards you and his mouth fell open.

He quickly controlled his expression, but you had seen it. The look in his eyes as he beheld you strolling towards him. It was a familiar look, one he had given you in the past and everything began flooding back. You tried to ignore it as you joined him and Rossi. “This is all very ‘James Bond’,” you said, looking at the three of you.

“Well, just go easy on the martinis you two,” Rossi said with a small smile. Then from his pocket, he produced a white rose. “Morgan got the partner to talk and he agreed to help if we offered him a deal. He made the call and told Hill that the target this evening will be with a beautiful woman and wearing this on his jacket,” Rossi said as he tucked the rose into Spencer’s lapel.

“Great, nothing says ‘murder me’ like a rose,” Spencer muttered as he adjusted the flower. You smiled to yourself at his attempt at a joke. Rossi was watching both you, his eyes flickering back and forth.

“Just stick to the plan and this will all be over before you know it,” Rossi said as he gestured you out to the car. You and Reid followed him, neither of you saying anything. You had expected it to be awkward, but this felt...alien. It was also starting to become clear why Hotch had assigned you to this mission with Spencer. He most likely figured you wouldn’t have to do much acting, but seeing him dressed up and with that wedding band on his finger, you felt as if you were looking at a stranger. You had no idea how you were going to make it through the evening.

-----

Arriving at the venue, Rossi helped you from the car, giving your arm a final squeeze before leaving you in Spencer’s capable hands.

As Rossi drove away, Reid held out his arm to you. Slipping into the character of Miranda Kelling, you took his arm and smiled at him warmly. Spencer, or rather, Anderson, smiled back and led you into the venue.

The party was fit for Los Angeles. The garish decorations were shiny metallic and smartly dressed waiters milled around with flutes of champagne. The other patrons were dressed just as well as the two of you and as they laughed, more champagne was poured and more money was spent. You weren’t even sure what charity they were supporting at the event.

Your eyes scanned the surroundings, trying to pick up on any agents, but Hotch had said nobody was going to be on the floor except for the two of you. Hill was too smart and would pick them out in a heartbeat.

You and Spencer walked around the room, keeping close to one another. As a waiter passed by, you grabbed a flute off the tray and drank half in one go. The liquid courage did nothing to satiate the nerves that bubbled in your stomach. As you finished your drink, you looked for another, but Spencer had stepped in front of you, giving you a concerned look.

“What?” you asked, keeping your face pleasant in case the unsub or others were watching.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “I know you aren’t thrilled to be with me tonight, but I can also tell that something else is bothering you.”

“Very perceptive,” you said, avoiding eye contact. “Look, I can’t talk to you about this right now.” He sighed and then took your hand. To anyone else, it would just look like a husband holding his wife’s hand, but you knew he was feeling for your pulse point. Something he always did when he wanted you to tell him the truth. It was both charming and infuriating.

“Is this about Robbie?” Spencer asked and your hand froze in his grip. He nodded to himself as he realized he had finally guessed right. “He never deserved you.” You took your hand back and tried to walk away. However, Spencer had another idea. Gently taking your wrist, Reid pulled you to the dance floor, spinning you into his arms.

Not wanting to cause a scene, you played along, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other in his right hand. The two of you swayed back and forth in silence for a moment before he finally spoke again. “You look so beautiful,” he said softly.

“Spencer,” you sighed, dropping your gaze to the buttons on his shirt, “please don’t.”

“Why?” he asked.

“You know why,” you said, your eyes meeting his. He looked down at you as if you were the only person in the room and it took you back to the first time you had danced with him.

It was at an event the Academy hosted for the new recruits. The two of you had just met during orientation and he had been bold enough to ask you to dance when he noticed you sitting by yourself at a lone table. Both of you had been very awkward on your feet, but you had managed to get a rhythm going and among all the laughter and stepping on toes, it had been the first step in developing feelings for the man before you.

“I noticed the color of your dress as soon as you walked into the lobby,” Spencer said, his fingers curling tighter around your own. “I always did love you in purple.” Ducking your head, you rested your forehead against his chest, just trying not to think about his hand on your waist or the fact that he was wearing the same cologne he always did. The one that smelled like wood and parchment. Reid pulled you in closer, his hand moving to the small of your back.

“Why are you doing this?” you whispered.

“I don’t want you to think about him,” Reid said, turning you both in a slow circle, “because I can’t do it anymore.” Pulling back, you looked up at him with curious eyes.

“Do what?” you asked.

“All those months when you were with him… seeing you smile when you and Garcia spoke about him or when he would drop flowers off for you at the office,” Spencer sighed. “I couldn’t handle it, (Y/N).” Hearing that confession slip from his lips made you stumble in your heels. He kept his hands tight on you, keeping you steady. Just as he always had. “I never stopped loving you,” he whispered.

Your eyes fell closed at his words and every emotion you had tried to shove down since the day the two of you had parted ways came surging back into the forefront of your mind. Spencer Reid was looking at you as if you hung the moon and while he would probably say something along the lines of ‘that’s impossible, a human wouldn’t be able to hang the moon’, that was what you saw in his eyes.

“Don’t you remember?” he continued.

“Spencer…” you said, but he couldn’t stop.

“My mom, (Y/N),” he said. “Don’t you remember how much she loves you? You were one of the only people who could keep her calm and she loved to tell you stories about the things she’s learned over the years. I remember everything about our time together.”

“You have an eidetic memory,” you reminded him.

“That’s not the reason I remember,” he said, placing his hand under your chin. You couldn’t help the tears that pricked your eyes at his words. At that moment, the mission was forgotten and everything was moving in slow motion. “Tell me, (Y/N),” he said, “tell me that you don’t love me, Tell me and I’ll stop.”

“I can’t do that,” you whispered. A small gasp escaped him at your confession and it was as if his entire body relaxed at your words. Spencer leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours, drinking you in. The orchestra in the background played a score fit for the moment and if you weren’t supposed to be on duty, you would have stayed in that moment forever. Spencer pulled back and glanced down at your lips, but before either of you could move in closer, you spotted a man watching the two of you.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked.

“Hill,” you whispered, plastering a fake smile on your face as you looked up at your fake husband. “He’s dressed as a caterer. The long scar on his cheek is just as the partner said. Looks like Morgan’s interrogation techniques are getting better.” Spencer took you and spun you around so he could get a visual, glancing briefly before grinning down at you. He then lifted your left hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

“Shall we go somewhere more private, Mrs. Kelling?” he asked and you nodded, taking him by the hand and dragging him towards the service hall. Everything in you was fighting to stay focused as you slipped back into your FBI persona. With Spencer’s confession, work was the last thing you wanted to do, but this man had killed enough people and the two of you were the last chance to take him down.

You and Reid pushed into the hallway, giggling like drunk teenagers.

You stumbled on your dress and he held you up, pulling on his bow tie. It didn’t take long for the killer to follow. You and Spencer were pressed against a wall, Reid’s hands going into your hair. He smiled down at you and slinked away as if you were playing a game. When he went to follow you, that’s when you were grabbed from behind.

“Move and she dies,” Hill said, waving his gun around. Spencer raised his hands in mock surrender and then he looked at you. “On your knees!” Hill yelled, but Spencer didn’t move. With a quick nod to you, you slammed your stiletto into the top of his foot. A shot rang out as the bullet pierced the ceiling, but you both moved faster. Spencer grabbed hold of the unsub as you took the gun from his grasp. Reid spun Hill around and slammed him into the floor.

“FBI,” Spencer said, “Daniel Hill, you are under arrest for the murders of Caitlin and Adam Dever, Brooke and Ryan Wood, Joanne and James Black, and Greta and Lewis Joy…” as Spencer continued to read him his rights, you disabled the gun and let out a deep breath. From your right, Hotch and Prentiss came running down the hall, their guns were drawn. JJ and Morgan weren’t far behind.

As Spencer got Hill to his feet, you turned and walked away. There was too much going on inside your mind and you had to get air. Walking past, Morgan, you placed the confiscated gun into his hands as you continued to move past your team. You could hear Reid calling out to you, but you couldn’t stop moving. You just needed to think.

-----

Once everything had calmed down, you all went back to your respective hotel rooms.

As soon as your door closed behind you, your heels were off and you headed right for the balcony. Garcia had texted you earlier and told you Hill would be processed and that Rossi and Emily had gotten a full confession out of him and his partner. That was enough for you to relax a little bit further, but there was still the issue of what happened before.

Then, as if the universe was listening there was a knock on your door. Pulling the sliding door behind you, you went to your door. You didn’t need to look through the peephole to know who it was. Unlocking the chain, you pulled open the door and were met with Spencer. He was still wearing his disheveled tuxedo, but his hair was no longer neat. It was how he always wore, the way you loved it. In his hand was a single yellow lily, your favourite flower.

You stepped aside and invited him in, closing the door quietly behind you. “You just left,” he said as you turned to face him. His long fingers were holding the flower by its stem, twirling it around.

“I just needed time, Spencer.”

“I know,” he said with a soft smile and then offered you the flower. You took it, pressing its petals to your nose. “I know how you think (Y/N), which is why I waited a bit before showing up here.”

“You always did know me best,” you said as you lay the lily on the stand by the door.

“I still like to think I do,” he said, reaching for your hand. You let him take it as you had earlier on the dance floor. He dragged you towards him, placing his hands on your hips gently. “You are so incredible,” he whispered.

“I never cared about him as much as I cared for you, Spencer,” you admitted. “When I broke things off after we graduated from the Academy, I thought I was doing us a favor. I thought it would be too complicated, that we would struggle with the time apart. I was so wrong. I am so sorry that I didn’t believe in us enough to stay.” Tears were rolling down your cheeks at this point and Spencer was shaking his head.

“Don’t apologize, (Y/N),” he said. “I understand. I think I always did, but I meant what I said earlier: I never stopped loving you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“And you think I did?” you asked. “God, Spencer, I love you so much and I should have told you the moment I walked into the BAU.” Spencer’s face split into a grin and he didn’t even hesitate to pull you into him. His lips met yours and your hands wound into his unruly hair. Light burst behind your eyes as the two of you finally said hello once again. Spencer Reid was the one for you and you would never doubt that ever again.

“One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving.”― Paulo Coelho

#Spencer Reid #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #reader insert #spencer reid x reader #cm #cm imagine #aaron hotchner #david rossi #emily prentiss #jj #derek morgan #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fic

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softboywriting · 4 years

Text

3AM | Nathan Bateman | Ex Machina

Summary: A rainstorm in the middle of the night is the perfect time to start confessing feelings and thoughts that have been bottled up for over a year. At least to Nathan it is. [Post Film - Nathan Lives] [Mentions of Alcoholism] [Pregnancy - Mentioned] [Soft!Nathan] [Mention of Injury - Film Canon] [Fluff with Angst] [F!reader/Nathan] [Established Relationship]

Word Count: 1.8k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Nathan doesn't sleep on his own anymore unless it's raining, not without help. Drinking, some over the counter non prescription sleeping medication, physical exhaustion. He will do anything to make himself sleep, except see a doctor. Nathan doesn't like doctors, he thinks most are liars and cheats who just want to scam people out of their money. You have no idea where he got the theories he has but he won't see medical professionals unless he absolutely cannot handle the situation himself. He is a genius but maybe too in his head for his own good.

You're not sure why this all started, but you can pinpoint when it started. A year ago, a year and three months ago after his last failed AI. Failed isn't the right word. They aren't failures, they're incredible works of art and science but not what he wants so in his eyes, failures. Ava was his best work to date and he even brought in an outside civilian to try her out with someone other than himself. He never lets you in with the AI. Says he is protecting you. Things with Ava escalated, got heated and Nathan got seriously hurt. After she was detained, Nathan was forced to shut the breaker down to Ava's room so she couldn't power back up after her battery ran down and he could safely disassemble her after he healed. After that he became closed off, more so than usual. The drinking got worse and the sleeplessness started. It has put a strain on your relationship that sometimes it feels like it only affects you.

So when you wake up in the middle of the night and go to the kitchen for a bottle of water and see Nathan passed out on the couch you think he's drunk again. A topic of many arguments and one you don't want to breach at three in the morning. So you tiptoe quietly past him to your destination. It's then that you see the rain pelting the glass walls of the house. Wind whipping around the trees and making a muffled howling sound. You wish Nathan would come to bed, your shared bed, but he won't if he's been hitting the bottle because he knows you hate it. Maybe you can get him to move off the couch if he's just asleep because of the rain.

"What's that noise?" He groans and you stop by the doorway to the inner workings of the house, bottle of water in hand. "Kitten? That you?"

"Yes, I was getting water. Do you need something?"

"Noise?" He asks insistently.

You cross the room and he lifts his arm from his eyes. "It's a storm. Pretty bad one if I were to guess."

"Oh."

"Mmhmm. Do you want to go sit on the enclosed deck? I know you like to watch the rain."

Nathan sits up and fixes his crooked glasses. "What time is it?"

"Three A.M."

"Fuck." He pushes up off the couch and goes to the window leaning against it with his forearms up on the glass, eyes fixated on something out in the dark. "I must have passed out."

"Yeah, it's raining." You walk up behind him and lay a hand between his shoulder blades. "You always sleep when it's raining."

Nathan glances back at you. "I do?"

"Yes." You chuckle. "You don't know?"

"I sleep without the rain too, that's ridiculous."

"No, you get black out drunk and pass out or your body physically shuts down because you go too long without rest." There is a hint of venom in your words that you don't intend but it's a touchy subject. You miss him in your bed. You miss him in general. Since Ava things haven't been the same and you're getting tired of it.

Nathan doesn't say anything. He just stares out at the darkness. You hate his silence. It's almost worse than when he's talking to you like you're a child, which he rarely does now since you've discussed how that doesn't fly with you. Silence is his new way of saying he is right about everything.

"Nate," you start and he pushes off the glass, walking away to the kitchen. "Nathan, where are you going?"

"Deck."

------------------

The moment you're seated together on the wooden bench in the enclosed deck, he decides to speak. It's not loud but it makes your heart rate spike when he begins. You're not sure why. Maybe you can feel something coming.

"I've been thinking."

"You're always thinking."

"No," he looks over and you can tell by the way his eyes are softened that he's serious and he wants you to listen and not talk back right now. "I want to stop drinking."

You lay your hand on his thigh and he covers it with his own. You've never known him to have this serious of a conversation with you. Not even when he said I love you the first time. Nothing has felt this important. "Why?"

"For you." He leans his head on your shoulder and you rub your cheek against his stubbly hair. "I know you don't like it and I can see it's putting a strain on our relationship."

"I definitely wouldn't mind it. I do miss you."

"I'm right here, every day."

"You know that isn't what I mean."

"I know." He murmurs. You don't think you've ever heard him speak so softly outside of sleepy cuddling, let alone hear him agree with you so quickly. This is scaring you. It makes you think something is wrong.

You rub your hand over his cheek, fingers flexing in his beard. "Is something going on? Did something happen to bring this all about?"

"Do you think I'd be a good dad?"

You pause, thrown for a loop at such a left field question. "A good dad? Nathan...I don't know."

"You can say no."

"That's not my answer." You look out at the rain. You don't know what he would be like as a dad. Having children changes people. As he currently is, no, Nathan would not be a good dad. He's too stubborn, bossy, impatient and absent. He has too much going on in the lab to focus on raising a human being. "It's complicated."

"Simplify it."

"I don't know how you are with children. I've never seen that side of you. But that doesn't matter. How a person is with someone else's kids versus how they act when it's their own is different. It's not a black and white answer."

"Do you want children?"

You sigh and look at him. He looks distant, zoned out. If you didn't know better you'd think he was drunk or stoned. "Maybe. It's not something I think about a lot. Do you? It seems you're thinking about it quite a bit more than me."

"I thought about it today. I thought about a lot of things today, and yesterday. What day is it? Nevermind it doesn't matter."

"What have you been thinking about? Other than children obviously."

"Like how I've never loved someone, or anything more than I love you. I didn't even think myself capable of love until I thought I was going to die after Ava's attack and my first thought was not that I was scared of death, but that you would be alone and you would have to see me die."

"Nathan, honey..." You slide your hand across his stomach where, beneath the soft cotton shirt, lies a very large scar. You'll never forget that night. It was a nightmare come to life.

A cool wetness comes across your arm, and you think it is the rain at first. Somehow leaking through the roof. But then you realize it's Nathan. He's crying for the first time since you met him, since you fell in love with him. He is crying silently.

There are no words to be said as you gather his head to your chest and hold him tight. He's been holding on to this for a long time. It wasn't just yesterday he was thinking about it. It's been a year and three months. You imagine he has been tormenting himself every day with the thought of leaving you alone, of you coping with his death. If only it didn't take so long for him to come clean.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, clinging to your back. "I won't leave you."

"I won't leave you either."

"I'm not making AI anymore. Not the conscious kind. Ava was too much, I played God and I realize I shouldn't have."

This is astounding. Nathan never apologizes, never admits fault or denies his works. You don't know who this is. This is not your Nathan. "Is there something more you want to tell me?"

"Yeah."

Your stomach aches, and a cold shiver tears it's way through your body. You have no idea what he is going to say. The worst is that he's dying, you think. "Out with it then. You're not one to dilly dally with words."

"Marry me."

"What?"

Nathan slides off the bench and stands in front of you. He doesn't kneel. He would never kneel. "Marry me." He puts his hand out for you. It's not so much a question as it is a command. How very Nathan. If he were any other person you would tell them off for this kind of harsh proposal.

"I thought you didn't believe in marriage."

"I didn't believe in love either but here I am."

You stand up and he takes your hands, rubbing his thumbs over the tops. "You want to marry me and have kids? Who are you?"

"I'm Nathan." He leans in and presses his forehead to yours. "I'm the Nathan that you broke down emotionally piece by piece for the last two years and this is what's left."

"A softie?"

"I wouldn't say I'm soft. I'm more...attuned to my emotional responses."

You reach up and hold his face in your hands, head still pressed to his. "I think I love this Nathan more. Is that harsh?"

"No." He nudges forward, bumping your nose and presses a quick kiss to your lips. "But don't expect me to be any softer in bed."

"I would never."

"Good. So you accept?"

"Accept?"

"My proposal."

You laugh softly under your breath. "That was a proposal? It didn't sound like a question, but rather a command."

Nathan smiles, that troublesome glint in his eye. "Semantics. So will you?"

You roll your eyes and smile. "Yes. I'll marry you Nathan."

"Good." He pulls you in, hips flush to his, pressing his face to your neck. He kisses along your throat, leaving wet licks across your jaw. "Now I can put a baby in you," he murmurs against your ear.

You smack him in the back and he chuckles.

"Come on." He wraps his arms around you and hauls you up against his chest. "I've done some research. I know all the best positions to get you nice and full."

"Nathan!"

"Oh shut up." He walks you back toward the kitchen, biting on your shoulder. "You love it dirty."

"Oh my God!"

"Yes?"

"I hate you."

"Love you too."

--------------

end

Thank you! Please Comment and reblog if you read and or enjoyed -A

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted works.*****

#nathan bateman #nathan bateman fic #nathan bateman x reader #ex machina #ex machina fic #ex machina fanfic #oscar issac #oscar issac fic

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allthingsfern · 3 years

Text

In order, my responses to comments in Reply of my COVID19 era post that was my answer to my question “My answer to my questions: Has the era of COVID19 changed your photography? How? And perhaps also, why?“ I am so confused now...

adventuresofalgy

Algy thinks you are lucky and - certainly if compared with Europeans - perhaps quite unusual in not having experienced a more profound effect on your creative outlets and expression. Many of Algy's creative friends have experienced wide-ranging and often severe impacts on their creativity and associated motivation - and therefore on their mental health as well.

themazette

As @adventuresofalgy Jenny said.... you are lucky...

I am indeed very lucky, or as I think of it, blessed. However, it is no way a US thing, nor even a California thing. I add California, because I know many in the US and around the world think of the Golden State as a haven, a progressive, hippie filled state that is all about peace and love and marijuana. However, that is far from the truth. California is like Germany in the 1920s and 30s. There was Berlin, where there was a wildness in the city that was not shared, and was often looked-down on, by those in the majority of the country, who lived in more conservative areas and who, often, economically could not afford the grand life of partying Berliners. In California it is the same. Except for a few urban areas, the state is full of very conservative folks, and for them, like for those in the cities (and in the rest of the world) this COVID19 era has been devastating. Well, and the fires for Californians have been too.

Even in this cool college town where I live, which is lovely and quiet and inspiring, the painfully empty streets, movie theaters, restaurants, shops (think of all those unemployed people) is (still) staggering. In mid-March last year, right after lockdown, I took several phone videos of the deserted street in our town and the campus, but I could not bring myself to share them, since I knew that so many others here on Tumblr were experiencing the same desolation in many different ways. (I figured: “Why add to the sorrow we are living, almost globally?”) I was overwhelmed by the emptiness of the major (well, major for a small town of around 65,000 people) street where I live and the empty bicycle trails and street on campus. And by empty, I mean that even now, I see maybe 3 cyclists per hour, and very little car traffic. Remember, this is a bicycle town; I do not own a car, doing most all my errands on my bike with its 2 fordable baskets in the rear.

And now, over a year later, that same heavy, oppressive emptiness persists. And no, I am not used to it. And yes, I traveled over the last year, but I found the same suffocating blanket of emptiness in each city I visited, even in Las Vegas. It was unnerving. As a matter of fact, last year when I drove to San Francisco 2 months after lockdown for my birthday, I wound up getting depressed and disoriented, in a city where I lived for almost 7 years. Driving back home across the Golden Gate Bridge with tears of sadness in my eyes on my birthday was not what I expected. However, I did get some solid photos of the malaise that hung thick in the air, a malaise that physically took up the space that once was taken up by crowds of people.

Now, I am also very aware that my situation is unique. (Not a fan of the word exceptional, since it can mean both unique and special, and I do not see my situation as special.) My life situation is very unique in that I have a job I love and I work with a great team of characters. We get work done and we have fun, share about our lives. My job is often, especially since COVID19 first got noticed in early 2020, stressful and demands my colleagues and I learn (and sometimes then teach) lots of new technology and that we adapt to the vagaries of the technology gods, which are sometimes unfriendly and unresponsive. And a big part of my job is trying to figure out how to get the technology gods to like us again and grace us with their gifts. (I never realized, until now, with this discussion, that the troubleshooting that is a big part of my job is creative and probably fuels my photographic creativity. Who knew?) Yet, as a group, my colleagues and I support each other. And I am fortunate to count my closest colleague, Steve, as a friend. We have been a great emotional support to each other over the years and now through this COVID19 era. And I recently was reminded (as if I needed reminding) just how unique my work situation is because I participated in a committee that was going over responses to a UC Davis-wide survey exploring levels of employee satisfaction. My 2 colleagues who were also on that committee and I did not have the complaints that others from other departments shared. We work well together, have supportive management that share what is going on and include us (as mush as possible) in the decision making process. And as a department, we get stuff done.

Possibly the best example of how blessedly unique my situation is is what happened this morning when I was talking (yes, on ZOOM) with my immediate supervisor. We discussed the work related stuff, including how at around 10:30 pm the night before I figured something out about an online tool integration I had never done before that I knew was easy but I did not see as easy until I reread the overly complicated instructions a couple of times and just figured out how and where to cut and paste the lines of code (it was that easy, just fucking cut and paste some lines of JSON code) that got the fucking thing to work. Then we talked about his dealing with his young children returning to school and how “normal” now is not “normal” from before and how disruptive the whole thing has been, yet since we work in a supportive atmosphere (and are both salaried), he was able to deal and keep living.

Then, and you are gonna love this, I shared about my original COVID19 question post and the responses and pretty much said to him what I am sharing here.

We talked for a little over an hour. That kind of rapport is rare, for any job, anywhere.

And then there is another way my situation is unique. In some ways, previous “bad things” were actually a preparation for this era of physical distance and uncertainty. In mid-2019, from July to August, first because of my work related bowling concussion and then an antibiotic resistant infection, I was bedridden for about 5 weeks and then had several absences because of concussion issues, like sudden and extreme anger flare ups, nausea, headaches. But however bad I thought that concussion and infection were, the concussion induced forgetfulness and my desire to sharpen my mind and nurture and nourish it have lead me to become, in my old age, organized. I now often take notes of important stuff, add work and personal dates and notes to my Outlook calendar, and even know what day it is, which bugs my colleagues who often find they have no idea what day and/or date it is. Yep, unique, but the bad concussion shit got me to be organized in ways that I was never able to be before, no matter what I tried. This time, I just fucking get organized, without thinking about it too much. And if I fuck up with my being organized, like I did the other day for work, I admit it, fix it, and move on.

Preparation for isolation (and unexpected natural threats) came by way of the 2018 Northern California (the region where I live) fires that year, which caused the campus to shut down for about a week. (As my friend Steve called it, the smoking break.) And for work, my colleagues and I faced a couple of long term, emergency technical outages that impacted all of the UC Davis faculty, one of them for over a month. Pretty much on a professional and personal level, I was, if not ready, at least getting used to the WTF of whatever life decides to surprise me with. (And lets not forget the really bad fire last September, seen in this video I posted of ash “snow” falling. We did not have to shut down the campus because there was no one there anyway.)

Another aspect of this last year, and one that has been present in my life for a few years now, is the BLM movement and the brutal police violence against Black people in this country. As someone who was a teaching assistant and taught in African American Studies and worked closely with students of color on campus in a student run organization, I was and am still devastated, in part because I know, from hearing so many personal accounts, the pain many of my friends, former colleagues, and former students, are still facing and how overwhelmed they felt and still feel. I understand, if as an outsider, their emotional exhaustion. This has been going on for a while, plus add the years of anti-immigrant hate against the Latinx in the US and the rising tide of violent hate against Asians, and yes, it has been sorrowful. Heartbreaking. And I have, in several ways, including my photography, tried to capture the sorrow and resilience of US people of color. It hurts, almost physically, that many people of color are just tired of talking and dealing with the hate.

So, yes, my situation is unique, but with its own emotionally draining weight. And yes, I am extremely grateful. This leads to the other 2 comments in Reply:

kkomppa

Thank you for sharing, Fern. Very interesting. Like you, I would say my output hasn’t changed much. However, I have sought locations deeper in the wilderness. This has been fulfilling.

schwarzkaeppchen

Really interesting thoughts. We live in strange times, but creativity and motivation comes and goes for so many different reasons. My photography has changed a lot. I used to work as a photographer at events and took portraits for fun... Now I'm officially a portrait photographer.

Both of these comments point to another unique aspect of my life situation: For some of us, our photography and how we do it, has not changed much, and if it has, that has been a part of our overall experience with this art form we love so much.

For me, because of my depressive tendencies, the Zen of photography, at least the way I do it, is therapeutic. And I do not use the term “Zen” lightly here, because my spiritual life has helped me come to terms with the WTF surprises that are pretty much life, if at times the WTF of it is more impactful, as it is during this COVID19 era. And that is part of what I was trying to share with my original post: Before this period of isolation and disorientation, I was already coming to grips with the gospel truth that “creativity and motivation comes and goes for so many different reasons.” as @schwarzkaeppchen said. In no way do I diminish the anguish flared up by these bleak times that impact so many around the world. And really, when you think about it, bleak times have been a norm, at least here in the US, since late 2016, though, of course, lockdowns and physical distance make it all worse. But, at least for me, I try to learn from the bleak times, even if I abhor going through them. And when dealing with the highs and lows of creative energy, at least for me, I have a calm certainty that photography is part of my life and I do not have to worry, since I only love it more each day. And the other side to my certainty is that if someday my love of photography fades, some other treasure of creativity will replace it.

Let’s be real, because of photography. I think about stuff like this and get to have discussions with so many great Tumblr original photographers.

And I am grateful for it, and no, this is not unique to my life situation. I know many of us love being here and sharing the good, the bad, the confounding.

Please think about joining @tvoom and me for InConverversation this month. It has been a long time since we talked, and this COVID19 era will be our topic.

I am grateful for all y’all.

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black-swan-slaps · 4 years

Text

My Musings About How BTS Made My 2020 So Much Better

I’m never one to do year end reflections like this, but I think I’ll make an exception for 2020, considering, you know, 2020. Plus, the New Years Eve content made me giddy.

I’ve known about BTS since either 2015 or 2016 (I first saw their videos in a Youtubers React video). I remember being impressed back then when I saw that their music videos had around 100 million + views (look at them now, lol). Since then, I would casually watch some of their performances or interviews, but never really listened to their work. The closest I got was when I became interested in RM’s solo work in 2018 (I really like his song Joke, and I stand by that). I think part of my interest in him was because he spoke English during American interviews, so it was easier for me to find a connection. Besides that, trying to enter the BTS world felt, well, overwhelming. There’s just so much content to get through.

Fast forward quarantine 2020. It’s the end of April and I have been working from home since the beginning of March. Their carpool karaoke video with James Cordon shows up in my Youtube Recommended. The rest is history.

But seriously, that video is just so much fun, and it was really smart of the editors to include subtitles. Very few American shows will bother subtitling the members (at least early on), but they often say really interesting or funny things! I wound up watching that video every day for like two weeks. I then started watching them on other talk shows, which turned into watching interviews, to then their music videos, performances (hello Jungkook in the James Cordon Boy With Luv performance), funny compilations, and then other content, like Festa. One of the first videos I watched was their 2019 Festa. I had limited context for the members, and didn’t think I would actually watch an hour long video, but I did, and I enjoyed it.

My May became a whirlwind of watching their content and listening to their music. Part of me was hesitant to spend so much time losing myself in their content, but as I reasoned, I had the time, and I was enjoying myself. I remember honestly laughing so hard as I watched Run, and by this point in quarantine, I had very little to laugh about. BTS gave me a route to escapism, and I happily took it.

None of my friends are really into Kpop, but I felt so ecstatic as I fell deeper into this obsession. They would listen to me a little as I talked about them, but I did overall refrain from talking their ears off. (Now, whenever I do get to see them, I just give a simple update: “Still really into BTS, btw.”)

Point being, I devoured their content. Run, Bon Voyage, docuseries, concert footage, hell, I even watched American Hustle Life. As I learned more about them, I fell in awe of their success and individual stories. I’m honestly just so happy for them every day. I’m seriously amazed when I think about how much they have accomplished. About how hard they have worked, how many records they have broken, how insanely talented they are. They are truly global superstars, and they are changing the music industry, culture, and are leaving a huge mark in history. It’s just amazing. And what is also amazing, is that being happy for them makes me happy.

Being happy for other people and their successes is pretty standard for me, but it’s definitely a sentiment that has heightened this year. This is a year where we need to spread happiness, as hard as that can be sometimes. But, getting this invested in a band is a new thing for me.

I really appreciate their friendship and bond. I know it’s not realistic for them to be lovey-dovey BFFs all the time, but it is clear that they have an incredibly special, and rare bond. It’s something that I really admire. (The Vmin friendship was one of the first things I noticed, and led to me getting interested in the members personally). Being American, platonic intimacy isn’t really something I see a lot, at least on the mainstream level (and especially between men), and getting to see these men work together, laugh together, and express their love for each other is just so refreshing. I truly hope that they are happy with each other. It is so clear, that based on the crazy journey they have been through together, they have a bond that no one else will understand. They’ve said it themselves that, in certain moments, they can just look at one another and instantly know what they’re thinking. That is so valuable and special.

Their work energized me. I started working on a major project in May, and I felt inspired by them. They gave me the energy to push through. Seeing them be silly while also working hard also helped me to accept myself and be true to my weird nature. I used to be pretty shy and reserved, and never posted online, but I started to adopt Jin’s philosophy of just doing what you feel like. Honestly, I felt the most alive in the first few months of quarantine purely because of them and all the energy I invested in learning about them and received from them. (And it was a welcomed distraction from the real world.)

It’s maybe a bit strange getting practically new content every day, but I have found that between official content and social media, there is always something to look forward to. It’s a part of my daily routine to check tumblr and look for updates. It’s something that has been so helpful as my mental health started to decline around August (I’m sure that with quarantine we’re all in the same boat). These past few months have been hard for me as I’ve struggled with the effects of quarantine and a developing complicated relationship between me, food, and my body, but at least I have had BTS to look forward to.

And I guess that is the point of this. I could honestly go on and on about each member and how I feel a special resonance with Jimin based on his gender expression, or how proud I feel of Jungkook every time I hear him sing and express himself, or how Suga’s First Love stops me in my tracks every time I hear it, but I’ve gone on long enough. What I’ve realized recently is that BTS gives me something to look forward to.

This year has been bleak. We all know this. But what is strange is that even though I have had my fair share of struggles, I also had a lot of self-improvement. Those first few months of quarantine, the energy I received from BTS inspired me to work hard on my major project. I took up learning Korean (I really like learning languages and have been working on Italian for years. I highly recommend TalkToMeInKorean). I started working out every day and actually have stamina to do physical activity (something I was severely lacking). I made strides in my professional life and am working strongly and proactively toward my career goals. Of course, even though I have been technically successful, I still can’t but help feel aimless and lost due to the loss of connection with my friends and peers due to quarantine. As Christmas day was ending, I realized that I had been using the anticipation of the holiday to get me through December. Once it was over, I felt sad. What more did I have to look forward to? The world is still generally terrible. In America, we’re still reeling from our terrible political and covid situation.

But today I realized, oh, there’s still BTS. Maybe it’s silly to say, but it’s true. Yes, I have personal and career goals I’m working toward, but we have to admit there is something so unique and fun about following BTS. That week in October where they released performances and interviews every day on Jimmy Fallon, plus bangtang bombs, was one of the happiest weeks I had. Like I said, their happiness brings me happiness. I look forward to following their careers for as long as they’re active, as well as their solo projects and careers. Honestly, isn’t it exciting thinking about all the great things they will do in the future?

#bts #jikook #vmin #jimin #jungkook #rm #suga #jin #jhope #v #they just make me happy #i hope they make you happy to #happy new year!

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erisbaek · 4 years

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Stucky Fic Rec [Part One]

So I decided to split the fic recs up into parts because they will be too long otherwise. In each part I will link the Google Doc that I am typing them up in, which is where I will constantly update as I read. Within these fic recs, they’re mostly my preferences, so very few (if any) Shrinkyclinks, and ABO fics will be within them, as well as shorter fics, since I actively seek fics out that are longer than 10k (and completed)!!

The Google Doc Link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/10wqr5s-CzkFzLidQgt-y4-cjudHWwVeVPWCedMjK7t0/edit?usp=sharing

The first part is formatted under the cut, if you’d prefer to stay out of the doc!

Lightning in a Bottle

Word Count: 63k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Road Trip!AU, Angst with Happy Ending Warnings: Smut, Smoking Synopsis: The problem, Steve thinks, isn’t so much his motorcycle giving up the ghost on a lonely stretch of highway through a lonely stretch of the country. He doesn’t mind stretching his legs or the prospect of hitchhiking. The problem is the roiling black blanket of storm clouds slowly spreading itself over the landscape headed his direction… Steve Rogers is looking to hitch on a highway abandoned by everyone smart enough to avoid a looming storm. Bucky Barnes is the professional storm chaser who offers him a ride.

It gets more complicated from there.

Perspective and Truth

Word Count: 16.7k Rating: Teen and Up Notable Tags: Bodyswap!AU, Emotional Hurt/Comfort Warnings: None Synopsis: Bucky and Steve end up swapping bodies and learning a lot more about each other in the process

Carbs and Conversations

Word Count: 48k Rating: Teen and Up Notable Tags: Hockey!AU, No Powers Warnings: None Synopsis: Bucky was just looking for a chance. A chance to get on the ice and play. A chance to escape from Hydra. A chance to redeem himself. He didn't include 'A chance to be friends with Steve Rogers' on the list. That would be ridiculous. Lucky for him, Steve seemed determined to be ridiculous.

So Loud and So Clear

Word Count: 26.6k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Get Together, Slow Build Warnings: None Synopsis: Bucky had been careful, after all, leaving no trace of his comings and goings. It was horrendously disappointing to know that Rogers had found him. Bucky was a lot better than getting caught by a guy who wore the American flag as a onesie. He just really was. “Don’t you – Bucky – Bucky,” Rogers started, and to Bucky’s growing horror, it looked like Rogers was on the verge of some type of emotional eclipse. Anger, sadness, something, and Bucky wanted nothing to do with it. “Hate to break it to you, bud, but I don’t remember ever living here and I don’t remember you.”

A Loyal Viewer

Word Count: 36.1k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Camboy!Steve, Punk!Bucky, No Powers, Long Distance Relationship Warnings: Smut Synopsis: At almost exactly eight thirty in the evening, Steve settles on the bed before his camera and the computer. He signs into his account on Chaturbate and clicks the button that starts his stream.

In My Conditions, Love’s the Best Physician

Word Count: 9.1k Rating: Not Rated Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Pharmacist!Bucky, Russian!Bucky Warnings: None Synopsis: ”This situation is a little more delicate because I don't even know if he speaks English and I'm tired of going down to the pharmacy for constipation medication and allergy pills when I haven't sneezed since 1941.” Steve shouts. The room falls silent, and he turns back around to find four pairs of stunned eyes watching him. Tony, as always, speaks first. “He?” - Or the one where Bucky is a hot pharmacist and Steve keeps making up bullshit reasons to go see him.

Rare Is This Love (Keep It Covered)

Word Count: 66.7k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Mechanic!Bucky, Slow Burn Warnings: Smut, Canonical Character Death Synopsis: It's 2014. Captain America has been out of the ice for three years and is trudging along, saving the world and trying to get used to living in the future. Steve thinks he knows how the rest of his life is going to pan out – a life of duty, which he chose when he signed up to be Erskine’s science experiment. But then, he meets Bucky Barnes: the out-of-this-world-gorgeous mechanic and war vet, who turns Steve’s life upside down and makes him question everything he thought he knew. Slowly, Steve comes to realize there is more to life than duty and punching Nazis. Just one problem though: how on earth does a 96-year-old virgin who only just realized he may not be entirely straight make the transition from crush to relationship? Cue healthy amounts of self-doubt, awkward flirting, pretty blushing, existential crises, emotional growth, and maybe, possibly, a sexual awakening.

Looking For A Place To Hide

Word Count: 33.3k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Endgame Fix-It, 2012!Steve Warnings: Smut Synopsis: It's 2012 and all Steve knows is that another version of himself said Bucky is alive. Steve will do anything to get his friend back, even if it means time traveling to 2023. He expects Bucky to be happy to see him, but instead he's wary, hurt. Turns out his Steve had left him for Peggy. How? Why? Steve can't believe it. Now he'll have to find a way to make sense of it all, and convince Bucky that it's the two of them to the end of the line.

The Wolf and the Sheep

Word Count: 50.5k Rating: Teen and Up Notable Tags: Shield Agent!Steve, Winter Soldier!Bucky Warnings: None Synopsis: Steve Rogers is a SHIELD agent who is recruited for a secret project: Becoming a handler for the Asset. Steve’s world is thrown for a loop when he discovers the Asset is an actual person and he needs to figure out who he is and what he’s going to do.

All Those Little Pieces

Word Count: 40.5k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Alternating POV, Post CATW Warnings: Smut, Panic Attacks Synopsis: Steve has never forgotten Bucky Barnes. Not their childhood together, not the horror of the moment Bucky fell too far for him to reach, and not the way he's loved him all the while. Bucky has forgotten everything about Steve, at least at first. But there's still a feeling there, warm in his chest—and maybe now that he's found his way back to Steve Rogers and his sunny apartment, there's a chance it might turn into something more.

My Dear

Word Count: 29.9k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Post CATWS, Recovery Warnings: Smut Synopsis: The Soldier stares down at the floor, breathing hard through his nose. “And you still wanna fix me,” he says. Steve shakes his head. “There’s nothing to fix, Buck. I just want to bring you home.”

Living On My Own

Word Count: 26.1k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Vigilante!Bucky Warnings: Blood and Gore Synopsis: James Barnes is back in the world and finds that not only has there been 1) an alien invasion, but 2) Howard Stark had a kid. One that dispenses unsolicited life advice, no less. Oh, and 3) Captain America is alive again, after getting himself killed by his own recklessness in a move so stupid only Steve could have come up with it. In which James learns to do laundry, turns into an accidental neighborhood vigilante and makes Tony Stark a happy grease monkey, all while he figures out where to stake his claim.

Chase the Lighting From the Sky

Word Count: 39.4k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: No Powers, Age Gap, Farm!AU Warnings: Smut, Past Character Death, Animal Death Synopsis: If Bucky has to be stuck doing this ridiculous summer work program before his senior year of college, on a ranch in the middle of nowhere, then at least he’s got a hot as hell cowboy for a boss and host. Steve Rogers, owner of the Truth & Justice Ranch, is what Bucky’s completely theoretical but very imaginative bisexual fantasies are made of. Steve’s a widower though, and a nice guy in need of help, and no doubt 100% straight… so Bucky’s gonna work his ass off and keep his head down. But neither Bucky nor Steve are prepared for the friendship that forms between them as they work side by side. And they certainly aren’t expecting the budding feelings, confessions, and passions that summer heat and the loneliness of the great open plains stirs in each of them. What rages to life between them will shake each man to his core and will linger long after the storms and the summer have passed.

Cinder and Smoke

Word Count: 51.7k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Sheriff!Steve, Blacksmith!Bucky, Old Western Warnings: Smut, Period-Typical Homophobia, OC Death Synopsis: “They say there’s no law in Parasapa. Is that true?”

Art Thief, Heart Thief

Word Count: 58.8k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: FBI!Steve, Thief!Bucky Barnes Warnings: Smut Synopsis: Agent Steve Rogers is facing a series of art thefts that has him stumped, and looking for a break in the case. Convicted art thief and general high end criminal Bucky Barnes wants to make parole and happens to know all of the right people who could make Steve's job easier. So they strike a deal, mutually beneficial and entirely business. But a few days undercover, an undeniable growing chemistry, and some ill-timed Feelings entering the mix, and all bets are off.

Laws of Thermodynamics

Word Count: 14.6k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Post CATWS, Recovery Warnings: Smut Synopsis: He never had to relearn how to love Steve Rogers. It might be the one thing he never forgot.

Abstract Art

Word Count: 26.6k Rating: Teen and Up Notable Tags: Friends to Lovers, Artist!Steve, Ex Sniper!Bucky Warnings: None Synopsis: They survive almost a year of torture together, cells side by side, banter and teasing and stories. They keep each other alive. Then everything changes. They tell Bucky that Rogers's been killed. He tries to piece his life together, to move on. Steve owns an art store. He's given up looking. It's over. Except it's really not.

We Discovered Gold

Word Count: 18.7k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Post CACW, Fix-It, Wakanda Warnings: Smut Synopsis: “So you got these safe houses scattered all over Russia?” Steve jokes into the soft hair over Bucky's temple, not pulling away, “Or did we just get lucky?” Bucky shakes his head and then replies, “Got myself a few. It’s been a long two years.” “Yeah pal,” Steve nods, burrowing further, “I hear that.”

Never Mind to Hold

Word Count: 21.6k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Soulmate!AU, Not CACW Compliant, Soulmarks Warnings: Brief Suicidal Ideation Synopsis: Steve didn't know the name of Bucky's soulmate. He wasn't even sure when it had appeared across Bucky's heart. But Steve knew it wasn't his name hidden under that patch.

Where There’s Smoke

Word Count: 95.1k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Firefighter!AU Warnings: Smut Synopsis: Steve is a Brooklyn firefighter who is about to be saddled with a new, rookie crewmate. James Barnes is that rookie, just looking for a fresh start at a new station. Steve's friends think they know what's best for him...start dating his new crewmate. Steve thinks they're crazy...or possibly right. But events from James's recent past may pose a threat to any designs they have on each other.

Let Them Eat Cake

Word Count: 31k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Pastry Chef!Steve, Sommelier!Bucky Warnings: Smut, Drug Use Synopsis: Steve picked up the piping bag and returned to the ramekins. Bucky left, though not without shooting one last look at Steve's wide back. Bucky could already tell Steve Rogers was trouble, not even counting the near-religious experiences he inspired among the staff. It wasn’t that Bucky didn’t appreciate him as well; he did. He just tended to appreciate people he found attractive from afar, because explaining the metal arm was hard, and because he didn’t really know how to handle letting someone in close. But that wasn’t why Steve was trouble, not really. Bucky wanted to know why their new pastry chef had gun calluses on his right hand.

Adrenalize Me

Word Count: 58.5k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Vampire!Steve Warnings: Smut, Blood Synopsis: Leaning against the side of a wall, taking an indolent drag of a cigarette, there he stood. Watching Bucky with an inscrutable gaze. Staring at Bucky for long seconds, the blond seemed to consider him before breaking the silence. “You know, nice guy like you walking alone at this hour – people might think you were looking for trouble.” Trying not to shudder at the sound of that voice, which wrapped around him like smoke, Bucky managed a smirk, lifted a brow. “Well, if I was, it looks like I found it.” Two strangers meet in a dark club. One just happens to be a vampire.

The Change in Us

Word Count: 23.4k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: N/A Warnings: Smut Synopsis: “I’ve found your BFF,” Stark says without preamble. “My… what?” “James Barnes. Winter Soldier. Bucky. I don’t know, I don’t care, but right now he’s perched on the roof of the next building with a gun on me, and it’s not so much my idea of a relaxing afternoon, so could you get down here?” Steve hangs up and starts running.

Things That Go Bump in the Night

Word Count: 38.2k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Ex Army!Bucky Warnings: Minor Smut Synopsis: Many an odd critter and item have ended up on the front porch of the property Bucky house-sits in the Middle Of Nowhere, but a bleeding blond man is a first. A short inspection reveals the man to be none other than Steve Rogers; ex-Captain America, vigilante, and a wanted fugitive. Steve’s stay of a few days of recovery is prolonged, under instructions for him to lie low until the Avengers can sort out the mess that has become the Sokovia Accords. Bucky is pretty sure that he’s committing an act of treason by providing Steve a place to stay. He is also pretty sure that lengthy interaction with Steve makes one prone to impending headaches and possibly ulcers. And he is certain that he is, very assuredly, in danger of falling in love with Steve.

The Soldier’s Revenge

Word Count: 76.4k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Canon Divergence, Enemies To Lovers, Slow Burn Warnings: Smut Synopsis: Bucky Barnes turns himself in to SHIELD two years after dragging Captain America out of the Potomac River. He was deprogrammed in Wakanda and has been hunting down Hydra ever since, but he needs help if he wants to take proper revenge on his captors. He turns to his old enemies: SHIELD and the Avengers, but it'll take more than a few words to win their trust after the Winter Soldier brought SHIELD to its knees not long before. Now at SHIELD's mercy, the only thing that stands between Bucky and his revenge is the approval of Captain Rogers: a self-righteous asshole that Bucky barely knows.

The Best Way to Wake

Word Count: 42.2k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Canon Divergence, Slow Burn Warnings: Smut Synopsis: James Buchanan Barnes lay in a glass pod in the middle of the table, frozen since he fell. Steve’s hands were on the glass before he realized he’d moved. “Wait, Captain!” “Get him out,” Steve whispered, his hands searching for a clasp, a keypad, something. “Captain, we need to keep him in stasis—“ “I said get him out!” In which Bucky Barnes lay frozen in the Alps for seventy years only to be woken up a year after Steve Rogers was uncovered from the Arctic.

Latte Art and Slow Dancing in the Dark

Word Count: 89.5k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Age Difference, CIA!Steve, Barista!Bucky, Sugar Daddy!Steve Warnings: Smut Synopsis: Bucky is a somewhat well-adjusted former army sniper that got his shoulder blown out. He took his discharge and went home to finish school and is working on his international relations masters. His best friends and roommates (Nat & Clint) are CIA agents and tip him off that their local Sbux is hiring. He gets a job there and meets none other than the hottest guy on earth. So how does one get a date in the most top secret government location in the US? What happens when that guy is more than just a hot dorito and wants to give Bucky everything he wants? Bucky is going to have to figure out his shit and fast. That's what's up.

Laughter Lines

Word Count: 100.2k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Bodyguard!AU, Slow Burn Warnings: None Synopsis: Bucky Barnes is a rising Hollywood star with a tragic past and a reputation for driving his bodyguards away. Steve Rogers is a veteran with the same tragic past and the need to get back out in the world. The two of them have been estranged since they were teenagers, so when Steve joins SHIELD as a bodyguard, he is less than thrilled when he finds out that Bucky is his first assignment. But how bad can it be? They're both professional adults, right?Wrong.

From Hydra with Love

Word Count: 21.2k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Spies!Steve and Bucky Warnings: Smut Synopsis: Captain Steve Rogers is one of the best spies in the world - a marksman, a martial artist, an expert in strategy and tactics. There's not a lot he can't handle. Heck, he's even saved the world once or twice. So why does every run in with the mysterious Winter Soldier leave him feeling like the Bond Girl?

Goddamn Electric

Word Count: 67.8k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Bodyguard!Steve, Musician!Bucky Warnings: Drug Use, Alcohol Use, Smut Synopsis: Steve Rogers works for a discreet private security company and gets assigned to James Barnes, a musician who takes the idea of 'sex, drugs & rock 'n roll' just a little too seriously.

There Was Something About Steve Rogers

Word Count: 46.7k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Post CATWS Warnings: Smut, Panic Attacks Synopsis: The Winter Soldier knows Steve Rogers has deep feelings for Bucky Barnes, and decides that he can use that to his advantage to gain protection from the Hydra agents still trying to find him. What he didn't bargain for was actually starting to care about the man they call Captain America, or the strength of Bucky Barnes' memories as they begin to resurface.

Through the Mist

Word Count: 14.5k Rating: Teen and Up Notable Tags: Soulmate!AU, Post CATWS Warnings: None Synopsis: He usually kept it covered. Whether it be with long sleeves, a cuff of some sort, or make up Natasha skillfully showed him how to apply. He didn’t cover it up because he was ashamed or because he was one of those people who didn’t like others knowing who his soulmate was- no. He covered it up out of respect. Respect for his fallen partner, and respect for himself because he knew looking at those swoopy lines of James B. Barnes on his wrist always made him crumble like his legs were kicked down. When he crashed into the ice all those years ago he thought he was going to see Bucky again- he thought he was finally going to be with Bucky without people giving them ugly looks and throwing slurs their way. He thought he was going to be happy again.

Take Me Home

Word Count: 78.1k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Veteran!Bucky Warnings: Smut, Torture, Referenced Suicide Synopsis: “I’m so sorry, I’m gonna help you I promise, just don’t move, fuck, I ran over Captain America–” the man apologized, over and over, and all Steve managed to say was, “You’re really attractive,” before passing out on the guy’s lap in the middle of the road.

Where the Circle Ends

Word Count: 29.8k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Zombie Apocalypse!AU Warnings: Smut, Gore Synopsis: In which the world has gone to hell in a zombie apocalypse handbasket and, in the middle of it all, Steve finds the one person he never thought he'd see again. Angst and feelings (amongst other things) ensue.

Our Souls (They Were Made to Last)

Word Count: 53.8k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: No Powers, Veteran!Steve, Doctor!Bucky, Ghost!Bucky Warnings: None Synopsis: Dr. James Barnes is too busy saving lives to actually have one of his own. When he finally agrees to go on a blind date, he gets into an accident that will change his life forever. Retired Army Captain Steve Rogers is depressed, and when he moves into his new apartment he finds it already occupied....with the ghost of its last tenant. To make matters worse, the ghost is adamant that he's not dead. As they navigate their way through their new living arrangements, can they save each other, before it’s too late? Or have they missed their one shot at a happy ending?

By Any Other Name

Word Count: 36.9k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Assassins and Hitmen!AU, Spies and Agents!AU Warning: Smut Synopsis: Steve was a good spy. It turned out one good spy didn't stand a chance against a rival security firm, a contract killer, and his own heart.

#stucky #stucky fic rec #stucky fic #stevebucky #stevebucky fic #starbucks #wintershield #steve rogers #james barnes #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #captain america #marvel

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years

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The Talk - J.M.

A/n: So we’re only doing make readers now huh? HECK YEAH! This app needs more anyway. Keep in mind I DO non-binary and female readers, so you can ask for those too!

Request: “Hi 👋🏻 could I request a vera stone son reader x Jack Morton flirts with him but gets nervous when he see’s his mom aka the best grand magus ever. And maybe Vera sits jack down for the if you hurt my son they will never find your body talk. Thank you and your amazing and I love you ❤️” by anonymous

Word Count: 2600+

Masterlist

Vera Stone would swear to Pluto and back that she had no favorites, but everyone knew that was a lie. She had a soft spot for Jack Morton, and Y/n Stone, her son, had been the makings of her heart his entire life. Of course. What mother didn't favor her son over everyone else?

Unfortunately, Jack was having a hard time. After he'd gotten his memories taken, he had made friends with Y/n. His interest in Y/n had driven him away from Gabrielle and though they were playing friends, it was never a dating situation. When he got his memories back, things got a lot more complicated because Y/n wasn't just part of the Order- he was the son of the Grand Magus. Things got progressively worse as Praxis became a problem and the whole world nearly ended. Again.

When Hamish was kidnapped, so was Y/n as they'd been together at the time. And though they'd gotten Hamish back rather quickly, the same wasn't true for Y/n. He was in the hands of Praxis and they weren't letting up on why they still had him. It wasn't until Salvador finally exposed what spell she wanted in exchange for Y/n that it really became what she meant by leverage. The problem was, even though her mom instincts were screaming, Vera knew she couldn't give these people this spell.

Then Vera did something really stupid.

She shot Salvador and killed her.

Alyssa had been at odds since her girlfriend had been sucked into the demon realm and her magic had been iffy. After Vera tore her down for not having magic and then it was exposed WHY she didn't, she felt betrayed. Vera had been bending backwards to protect Jack, Hamish, and Randall, but easily wrote Alyssa off for something that was Vera's fault. Not to mention she obviously had no care for Lilith. In her mind, Vera was worse than Edward Coventry and she wouldn't see reason. She didn't give her a chance to explain or fix her mistakes. In fact, the second Vera got the chance to do either, Alyssa disappeared with Praxis. Which left her on the side of those who were holding Y/n hostage.

During that time, Alyssa talked to Y/n a lot. The boy seemed fine with listening, watching her carefully as Alyssa went on and on about all of the mistakes of his mother and all those who had come before her. She had endless proofs as to how the Order was corrupt by power and selfishness, and Y/n stayed silent because... well she was right. In a way. Also he knew that arguing that people made mistakes wasn't going to get anywhere with her. Not to mention the book was magically enchanted to corrupt those in leadership... but he didn't talk about that.

It was when Alyssa began talking bad about the wolves that Y/n struggled to keep quiet.

"He's so self righteous and puffed up. Like he knows everything and does nothing wrong. Always has the right drink. Ever think he does it just because he's a drunk?" Alyssa would begin, rolling her eyes.

"He's trying his best," Y/n would reply immediately. It was the first time Alyssa had gotten him to speak. The first time anyone had. "And despite all the shit that would probably throw anyone else off, he's still a good leader and does what's right mot of the time. He's loyal and smart and hard working."

It was later when Alyssa tried the tactic again. She ranted about Gabrielle and Edward and the necromancer twins they'd dealt with a while back. She went on about names Y/n didn't know, and even his own mother. But the second she mentioned, "God he's never serious! He constantly goofs around and flirts and is a total idiot. He lets his emotions guide him and it makes him sloppy. If he used just a shred of logic he might actually get somewhere. Like his whole hatred of the Order even though they were the only ones with the resources to help them find Lilith. Even when some of us were really trying, he still refused to cooperate."

"To be fair," Y/n snapped. "We have a record of betrayal, power plays, and selfishness, as you've so generously bestowed upon me for the last while. He actually cares a lot and that's why he's so emotionally driven. Because he cares. Not enough people these days care. Not enough people these days FEEL and express and dare to stay upbeat in a world that takes anyone with a smile and seeks to destroy them with a deep rage. Like happiness is a sin or something."

The violent reaction to Alyssa insulting the Knights was unexpected. She never made herself talk badly about Lilith - she loved her after all, and talking bad about the possibly dead when that person was your whole world... terrible idea. She did however crack the case when she mentioned Jack to Y/n. "He has this hero complex that makes him so... annoying. He isn't the center of every problem. Not everything is about him. He doesn't have to save everyone. Not everything is Jack's Mission or something, you know? Maybe he should get over himself just a little."

"Shut the fuck up." Y/n's head was hanging forward, eyes on his lap. Before, he usually went on rants and berated Alyssa for talking badly about the wolves. What was it about Jack that made him not even be able to look at her? Was it that because his mother had trained him to never show weakness to the enemy, he was trying to cover up an especially touchy topic? Was it simply that he agreed with Alyssa enough that he had nothing more to say? Or perhaps he was nervous to expose something if he talked too much about Jack.

Whatever the reason was, Y/n had never acted like this before. He'd always been the professional, withdrawn kind of person. He was his mother's right hand. He kept to himself and rarely talked, if ever. He was quiet. A wallflower. People often wondered if he was capable of emotions at all, the same way they wondered about Vera. Except that he never got to the point that he was cracked enough to expose himself. Even when his mother faltered in her place of leadership to keep the Order and herself and everyone she cared about together at the same time, Y/n still held strong.

What was it about Jack Morton that he was always the weak spot in everyone's armor, no matter how tough or thick or well taken care of it was? He seemed to find cracks like a hungry dog hunting for food. It was kind of impressive actually.

Alyssa prodded at this weakness a lot. She mentioned Jack a lot. Every time Alyssa and Jack crossed paths, Alyssa would tell Y/n every detail of it. Force him to look at her as she said it. It was never a cruelty though. She could tell that he liked to hear it, and her act was from a point of curiosity only.

Then Salvador died and Alyssa rose to leadership. She tried people out to see if the fur would take to anyone, but it never did. Until...

Finally Vera broke. With the Tartarus Blasts threatening to coalesce into an Apocalypse Blast and wipe everyone out, on top of Alyssa taunting how close to making Y/n she was, Vera couldn't hold out anymore. So she brought him along to the exchange. Y/n came in, uninhibited and willing, but stayed by Alyssa's side. No one could place what exactly was wrong. He still nodded to his mother and seemed to be perfectly himself. He even rolled his eyes when Alyssa went on about her purpose, and got visibly angry when Vera told her what the spell actually did and Alyssa ignored her.

Yet, Y/n didn't act out against Alyssa either. He seemed to even be protective of her. Perhaps they were... dating? Or he had some feelings for her. Vera couldn't imagine Alyssa getting over Lilith like that but perhaps Alyssa had changed even more than Vera had thought.

It wasn't until Alyssa turned on Vera to kill her that Y/n made a move against her. "We made a deal," he reminded her. "Are you about to break your end?"

Exhaling sharply through her nose, Alyssa looked away. "She deserves to die."

"No she doesn't," Y/n snapped. It was the first time he'd defended his mother to Alyssa. It was the first time he could. "She made a mistake, but she's a good leader and she has a dream that a lot of people believe in." Y/n grabbed her shoulders. "I know you've been through a lot, Lys. I know you've been hurt by every single person you trusted or looked up to or anything along those lines. Betrayed. Left behind. Let down. I know how much pain you're in. You know I do." She sighed a little softer. "I also know that killing my mother will give you no peace, and you know it too."

Alyssa looked at him for a long time. "What, no speech about it's not who I am?"

Y/n chuckled at that. "It's not my right to tell you who you are. Only you can do that. But I'm telling you, revenge is a slippery slope, and we have a deal. Making an enemy of me will be bad for you now and in the future, if you somehow manage to escape. I can be an ally, and I would like to be. Not to mention that whatever you're looking for, you will not find in this."

For some reason, Alyssa believed what he was saying. Her lips curved in a frown. "Promise me you won't leave me, Y/n. Or betray me."

At that, the boy hesitated. "You know I want to stay."

She nodded. "I know that. But, we can be friends?"

Y/n smiled. "Anytime you need me, Lys. You know where to find me. We'll find Lilith, and we'll bring her home, and-"

It was that time that Jack Morton decided to join the party. He quickly caught them up on Lilith being back, but the whole demon situation going on with her. But he also told Alyssa she had to run. "I know how much you want to see her, Alyssa, but Midnight is coming here to kill you. He took over Gabrielle- what are you doing, Y/n?"

Alyssa had not moved a muscle. She didn't even seem worried. Y/n was removing his clothes, and that seemed to put her at ease. "Hello to you too, Jack." Y/n chuckled. "I would like to update you on how Alyssa and I here became friends." He pulled off the shirt he had after shedding the flannel he'd been unbuttoning, and kicked off his shoes. "She was looking for a champion. I needed to be able to get her out of here without killing people I cared about. We negotiated and then we talked and now we're super cool."

Jack's eyes went wide as Vera gasped. "You're-?"

"Yes," Y/n confirmed. He closed his eyes and felt the change take him. His body grew and widened until he was a wold. A werewolf. Alpha, of all of them.

"You're going to fight Midnight?" Jack demanded. "You could kill Gabrielle!"

"No," Alyssa corrected him, though she didn't know what had happened since she'd been gone that Jack cared about Gabrielle being alive or not. "Watch."

The doors busted open and there stood Midnight. The eyes of the two wolves locked and the temperature of the room rose about ten degrees. Jack groaned and clutched his hand over his heart. He shifted right there, whimpering on the ground. Midnight held, for a second. Another second. Yet another. Then he broke and looked away and Y/n stood tall and howled. Jack breathed in relief and Midnight took running off.

Alyssa was safe.

Both boys morphed back into humans. "I don't know who he'll go after, but everyone we care about should be safe, so no worries." He looked at Alyssa. "Go." She nodded and took off, alive and well. Jack cleared his throat, a wide smirk on his face. "What?" Y/n asked, eyebrows knitting in intrigue.

"You're whole take over there," Jack mused. "It was super hot actually."

Vera cleared her throat and it was then both boys realized they were naked and blushing, in front of Vera Stone who was Y/n's mother. Gross and awkward to say the least. "Sorry," Y/n dismissed. Vera glared Jack down and he seemed to become suddenly awkward and tense. "Mom, we're gonna head back to the Den to catch everyone up on the situation and check up on Lilith."

"And get dressed," Jack added in a rush. Y/n tried not to laugh at him.

"I'll be back later," Y/n told her.

That was new. His whole life, Y/n had always been second at the very best. Usually he was even further down the list, fine with living in the shadows because it allowed him to learn and live while dodging most stressors and dramas. He always relinquished dominance to his partner in a project, or the other person in the scenario, or his mother. Confident leadership was a good look on him. As much as his comment had bothered Vera, this role fit her son well and she couldn't say she wasn't proud. "Sounds good to me."

"Will you be okay?" Y/n asked gently. She hesitated then nodded and he returned it before looking at Jack. The boys both sobered before shifting back into wolves and booking it to the Den.

After everything settled and they started to get over shock and try and figure out what to do next, Jack took a second to pull Y/n aside. "What is it, Morton?" Y/n sighed.

"I'm just... I wanted you to know that I'm really glad you're back. Safe. I've been worried sick about you and with everything else going on- I mean I guess my worry is nothing against you being the one captured, but- Look I just-"

"I get it," Y/n reassured. He had a small smile on his face. "You know, bonding with Alpha helped me finally understand the power of being just a little vulnerable. Maybe we can figure this out... sometime? I doubt there will be a good time because it seems we're always facing some shit or another, but maybe we can get coffee some time around all the chaos?"

Jack smiled. "I would like that."

"Cool. See you tomorrow morning at 8am. Don't be late, Morton." With that, Y/n walked away.

"I won't!" He called after the boy.

The familiar sound of Vera clearing her throat sounded and Jack felt himself freeze and stiffly turn to face her. "Hey!" The word was long and high pitched in his mouth. Awkward and full of tension. He was never as afraid of her killing him as he was now.

"Let me get one thing straight," Vera snapped, pointing at him. "That is my son." That alone hit home. Jack knew better than most what having a son meant to Vera after she'd lost her daughter. "He has been through hell and I have had to do things I hate myself for to bring him home safe. I let loose self destruction incarnate to bring him home safely. Do not think for even a second that because I have some soft spot for you, that I will not be willing to gut you with my bare hands and teeth if you hurt him. My non-magic, non-werewolf, fingernails will carve you a new face. Is that clear?" Jack could only manage a nod. “Good." She stood straight. "Don't be late, Morton. My son cares a lot about punctuality." And with that she left.

Despite everything, Jack managed to find humor in the situation. No matter how much Vera Stone scared him, Y/n scared him more. He made Jack feel things that terrified him. Things he hadn't even begun to touch until since Alyssa. Things that had been warped and ruined for him because of Gabrielle. Things that he was now wanting for the second time in his entire life. Vera was scary, but Y/n? Y/n was terrifying.

Like mother like son I suppose.

#jack morton #the order #the knights of saint christopher #jack morton x reader #jack morton imagine #the order imagine #the order x reader #the knights of saint christopher x reader #the knights of saint christopher imagine

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nyrator · 3 years

Text

Random updatess

Been in a weird spot mentally, lately...

I think it’s safe to say I’ve been single again for a long while, but lots of concerning stuff related to that has been going on which has me concerned- not much I should probably say publicly, but nothing I can really do about it except suppress my anxiety over it and hope for the best. People are complicated and impossible to understand.

Or maybe I should speak up about it a bit, since he’s gone and nothing really holding me back, but it’s a weird and long-going situation. In short, I’m not comfortable around people and am an extreme introvert, but he was someone who really latched onto me.. but he couldn’t stop needing me even after we stopped being together, a dependency in my eyes but maybe I was just assuming, and I had to force space between us in hopes he’d stop focusing on me so much. Too kind, too overbearing. Seems it worked, and now he’s almost completely vanished from everything before I could start up communication again. Maybe he just removed himself from anything that reminds him of me, or maybe it’s a sign of something worse. He has a lot of things he’s dealing with I can’t help with, and all I can do is just hope for the best I guess. But ultimately, I don’t think we were healthy for each other. I still consider him a great person, at least, and it’d be nice if we could have a semi-normal connection sometime in the future still.

I did get the RN site off of him before he vanished a few days ago, which was kind of him (he made it and paid for it, but I’m paying for it now), neither me nor any of our other friends have heard from him since. We’re apart, and he doesn’t owe me anything, but it would be nice if he communicated what he was doing and why with people more. Guess all we can do is see.

Anyway, I guess that’s enough about that. I know too many people with tough lives that weigh my own heart down too much.

In other news, I’ve been dealing with my “complex” again too much. Complex, personal issue, childhood trauma, whatever it is. It’s bothering me a strong amount, but I know most of it is in my head- I just can’t escape reminders of it. I don’t feel comfortable talking about it in detail in public, either. I’m starting to express it in RN, but I have fears that I’ll end up repulsing and alienating people around me because of it- like it’s sullying anything I involve it in.

It’s linked very much to self-hatred, my depression, and a lot of things in my life in general- and I’m given constant reminders of it from the moment I wake up, it’s controlling me, it feels like, and I don’t know how to cope with it properly. I have a private vent Twitter dedicated to venting about it at this point, but it doesn’t feel like it’s helping at all.

Otherwise- Life is dreadfully uneventful. I started playing No More Heroes to kill time- beat the first game again 100% on Bitter, and beat the second game on Bitter as well (didn’t do that boss rush mode or unlock Special in BJ5 game, though). First game is much better than the second game, by far. I’ll have to get back into TSA and then 3 someday, took a break to draw some Lave in pajamas.

I really like sleep aesthetics, but my complex is so interwoven with that too that I feel like it’s corrupting it. But Lave’s an autobiographical-ish character, after all, so I guess it’s okay to have it woven into them as well- I still feel like it’s going to drive people away from liking them, though, and probably fairly so.

Still haven’t even tried looking for a job, and I haven’t been moving much at all lately- treadmill’s just collecting dust. Only today did I finally get rid of about half of my mother’s things, and only because there’s an inspection on Friday and I’m embarrassed by how packed all this junk still is. It wasn’t a far or even stressful of a drive to the donation bin (it’s right by my grocery store), but my nerves still almost made me wet myself again. I can’t stand it. Part of me wants to drive my friends to an arcade for my birthday and see if I can better adjust, but that’s almost three hours away, there’s no way I can see myself making it reasonably.

It’s really hard, living without drive or purpose. I still have no urge to work on any of my projects at all, it’s like I’ve completely given up on myself to do anything.

It’s really nice hearing from friends on here from time to time, even if I do nothing to show my appreciation or make an effort to return the feeling. Tumblr’s been pretty inactive for me, but there’s still some familiar faces I always like seeing.

I really don’t know what to do with myself anymore. I have no energy to do anything nor any real reason to feel a need to. I can’t even keep the apartment clean from my cats, or stay on top of garbage or laundry.

The one thing I want to do is practice talking more and maybe stream, but it feels like a dead end, honestly. I want to train my voice to be more professional and to a certain standard I have for it that I’m not even sure I can reach, but I have no real way of practicing. Maybe get some nicer clothes as well, but I don’t even go anywhere. I just feel weird with how I dress and worry about embarrassing my friends by being seen with me or something, as silly as it is.

I apologize for the depressing Ny-rant-y stuffs, just one of those kinds of times lately. I haven’t had anywhere to vent lately, and I don’t want to keep bottling it all up, either.

#text stuffs #nyrants #a bit of a negative feel-y mood one again I apologize

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tartagilicious · 4 years

Text

[CN] Kiro’s “Happy Catcher” date (eng) PART ONE 🍓

this was the most annoying thing to post, but thankfully, I’m able to post it as long as I break it up! I’m sorry for the long wait, Tumblr has been giving me difficulties recently — but I hope this translation can make up for it! you can find victor’s over at @cheri-translates ^^

PART ONE vv

The weather today seems exceptionally good. The sunlight illuminates the whole living room through the windows without any hesitation. Watching the green leaves on the balcony glowing in a faint golden light, my frown that was originally hard set finally loosened a little.

But then my eyes fell on the computer screen, and I couldn’t help sighing again.

MC: The project this time has really wiped out my free will…

Some time ago, I did a long-term strategic analysis . In order to make corresponding adjustments, I took over this very difficult project. Unexpectedly, after half a month, I was helpless.

I took a deep breath and picked up my mobile phone, trying to take a short break to ease my anxieties about work.

“Ding dong!” A text message appears before my eyes ---

Kiro: Come on, Miss Potato Chips! ^^

That bright face seemed to pass through these short characters, appearing in front of me. The mood became clear for a moment, but the next second became complicated. I originally made an appointment with Kiro to go out together today. But, because of work, I had to cancel the trip.

MC: Ok, see you next week!

I took a deep breath after pressing send, continuing to type the mountain of information into the keyboard. Just solve these difficult tasks, and you can go to Kiro.

Thinking of this, the speed of my typing on the keyboard has increased a lot in both of my hands.

Tap tap --- tap --

At this time, there was an irregular knock on the door, and the familiar rhythm made me react instantly. I went quickly to open the door, and found a cute teddy bear on the ground. I made the mistake of touching the recording switch when I picked it up.

Little bear: Hi, I am Little Bear! There will be surprises when you pinch my nose!

A familiar sound was emitted from the teddy bear’s body, and even though it was changed, I could recognise it at once.

I couldn’t help laughing out loud. I reached out and pinched its nose.

Suddenly, a touch of gold appeared in my sight. Not waiting for my reaction, I was quickly drawn into a passionate embrace.

Kiro: Look, I didn’t lie to you! You pinched its nose and I appeared~~

MC: It really is you! Why are you here?

Kiro released me and put his hands behind his back, looking at me with shiny eyes.

Kiro: Because I received a call from Miss Potato Chips, I want to do something for you.

As he talked, a small card was pushed into my hand. When I looked down, my eyes met a handwritten line--

Happiness Catcher -- Mr. Zhou Qiluo.

Kiro: I am now an excellent Happiness Catcher. According to my “survey”, for some reason, ___’s happiness isn’t in her home.

MC: What?

Kiro nodded. The golden tips of his hair danced up and down with his nodding movement like a faeries’.

Kiro: In order to not cause a catastrophe, we have to find it quickly. So without further ado, let’s go now!

At his urging, I quickly packed up in confusion before being pulled out.

PART TWO vv

On the way, no matter how hard I tried, Kiro wouldn’t tell me where he was taking me. A mysterious look on his face gives me high expectations for this “journey”.

Finally, we came to the entrance of Mi Xue forest. I saw him touching his chin pretentiously. His eyes squinted, and even his nose trembled slightly. He seems to be searching for something.

Kiro: According to my professional analysis, it should have escaped to here. This is absolutely correct.

MC: You said the word “Happy Catcher”... How do we get it back?

Kiro: Of course, the most primitive and concise method is used.

The next second, he showed a sly smile. His hands made a horn around his mouth, and then he took a sharp breath--

Kiro: ___’s happiness, where are you, come out quickly!!!

His voice echoed in the forest. Except for the flock of birds that were frightened into escaping, there was silence all around. I can’t help looking at him a little jokingly.

MC: This simple and concise method doesn’t seem to work, but it does at least scare most nearby birds away.

Kiro: Because I want to find her happiness quickly, little birds, I’m not sorry!

He stuck out his tongue playfully at the sky. Then, putting his hand into a trump-like shape again, he put them up to my mouth.

Kiro: I’ve found the key to the question. It seems that only you, the master, can call it. It may appear then.

MC: Still, towards…

Seeing the expectant look, I could only swallow what I originally wanted to say halfway through.

MC: ...My happiness…. Where are you?

Kiro: Only I can hear you at this volume. Let’s shout together?

He looked at me seriously, and I blinked. Seeing this gorgeous smiling face, I nodded.

Kiro: Let me count down! 3, 2, 1--

With the countdown falling, the voices of Kiro and I resounded throughout the forest. It seems that the traces of depression that had hidden before had also been vented from my heart.

Kiro: ___, look, there seems to be movement in the grass ahead!

As soon as I turned my head, I seemed to see Kiro’s hand waving quickly near the grass. I walked towards it in a few steps and commented that I saw a crumpled ball of paper lying in the centre.

MC: This is…?

Kiro: Open it and take a look. Maybe there’s a clue!

Looking at his excited expression, even if I have one or two guesses in my heart, I still look forward to opening the little ball of paper.

MC: Close your eyes and take a deep breath three times beneath the sky?

Kiro leaned over and read the contents of the paper ball with me. He pretended to be clueless, which made me laugh secretly in my heart. The acting is pretty decent….

But in order to cooperate with the careful arrangement of the “Happy Catcher”, I still closed my eyes obediently, my chest slowly lifting. I take a breath and another one, and clearly smell the fragrance of vegetation. The soil under my feet seemed to become soft, and my entire person was immersed in a comfortable and relaxing atmosphere.

I think I understand the purpose of this direction.

However, in the last breath, a soft and hot flush fell on my face. Before I opened my eyes, a soft whisper slowly sounded in my ears.

Kiro: Congratulations to ___ for triggering an additional reward.

I opened my eyes. Kiro seemed just as innocent as he had when I closed them, so it seems that the moment just now was a sweet “sign”.

Kiro: Just when you completed those instructions, I found another clue!

Kiro proudly pointed to the bushes not far away, like a playful teenager who couldn’t wait to claim credit. But, looking at his bulging pockets, I can’t help but tease him.

MC: Your pocket is bulging today, have you hidden a lot of good things?

[not me laughing at this line omg]

Kiro: No, it’s all the things that make you happy.

He nodded calmly and admitted this without concealing anything. Such a straightforward attitude stunned me, and I hurried down to pick up the second paper ball-

….%....&%¥……%¥

[that’s what the screen says I swear, it’s not just keysmash lolol]

I looked at the symbols on the paper ball in shock. Kiro quickly noticed my expression.

Kiro: Oops! I threw the wrong one!

Hurriedly, Kiro picked out a handful of paper balls from his pocket, and rooted through them one by one. I turned my head and found that each piece of paper was full of different instructions, seemingly to be prepared to deal with many different situations.

After me, Kiro turned around. He noticed my eyes filled with curiosity. Finally, one of his fingers landed on a piece of paper. He gave a satisfied and mysterious smile.

Kiro: Although it was a small accident that just happened, the clue was still “found” by us!

A wrinkled note appeared in front of my eyes -- follow me with a piece of mind!

In the next second, Kiro slowly opened his palm to me, as if to echo the instructions on the note. I clasped his hand tightly without hesitation, and held it in the air.

MC: All of my actions are subjected to Kiro’s command!

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc kiro #mlqc spoilers #mr love queen’s choice #mr love queen’s choice kiro

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movienotesbyzawmer · 3 years

Text

April 12: Rocky III

(previous notes: Rocky II)

Because now that Rocky has done the unthinkable and become The Champ, we want to see him tackle the next challenge… win AGAIN.

I remember seeing this in the theater with my buddy. I don't know if I liked it. I'm pretty sure I found Mr. T to be as charismatic and as terrifying as they wanted. I'm pretty sure when I bought the ticket I hesitated and asked the cashier, "hey, wait, we get to see him do some variation on the triumphant steps jogging moment, right? Otherwise never mind I'll go see Poltergeist again". If I'm paying good money for boxing sequels, I want to be assured that the formula has not been altered.

Okay let's go.

Once again, this is Un Film De Sylvester Stallone.

Slight variation on the fanfare with the title, now there's a close-up of the Important Belt Buckle Of Punchsport.

Then we see the climax of the previous movie, maybe edited slightly for time. But not very noticeably different.

That segues immediately to a montage of Rocky doing many successful beatup games, scored by the enormous pop hit "Eye of the Tiger". I suspect this isn't the last we'll hear of this number.

The montage morphs into a different story, one starring Mr. T! He's watching Rocky win stuff and he is not pleased. He can also fist-game, it seems. But the montage makes it clear that it is our hero Rocky who is the star of commercial endorsements and marriage love.

I mock but this visionary filmmaker has indeed opened this movie with energetically cinematic choices.

0:8:40 - Arcade games! Paulie goes to an arcade and it is like the arcades I went to when this movie was out and I see games that I played! But Paulie doesn't like the Rocky pinball machine. It seems he is a sore brother-in-law.

Rocky is now very dashing. Paulie is drunk and whiny about how Rocky is such a big shot now, but he has a point about how prettied up he has become.

Later that night Rocky and Adrian are in their bed and it has a rich person headboard. The director, also visibly present in front of the camera, clearly instructed the production designer to create a bed that would reflect the elite level of financial flexibility that the protagonist has reached.

So apparently Rocky has gotten himself into the strange situation where he has to do a charity boxing match against a wrestler played by the increasingly famous Hulk Hogan. I had forgotten that Hulk Hogan is in this movie. Mr. T is watching this match and he looks intensely the same way he only ever does.

Whoa Hulk Hogan is way taller than Sylvester Stallone. Is that allowed? The rules have changed! And this whole thing is not boxing it is wrestling and it is that silliness instead of boxing. This is a long scene that is the same as a typical Wrestlemania thing, all manufactured drama made to seem like fighting and true menace, but at the end we see that they are just professional coworkers and we have all learned a valuable lesson haven't we.

At a statue-unveiling, Rocky announces that he is maybe retiring. MAYBE. But then Mr. T shows up talking smack, and ladies and gentlemen we have ourselves an end-of-Act-One.

As Act Two begins, we have a scene that was an A+ homework assignment for the screenwriting teacher of Rocky III's screenwriter, who you will recall is the craftsman Sylvester Stallone. Burgess Meredith is like "I quit! I won't help you with this fight! Mr. T is too hard to beat!" But then they talk it out to advance past that scripted complication. And now Rocky and Mr. T are training for their fight in their separate worlds.

Speaking of worlds, in the World Of Rocky, the famous theme that was introduced in the score of the first movie is actually known to the characters in this movie as Rocky music. They play it for him publicly to celebrate their pride in his violence accomplishments.

Apollo Creed appears to be retired, but he is a commentator at this Rocky/T fight.

0:40:00 - They're about to do the fight, but Mr. T is so The Way He Is that the wants to fight on the way TO the fight. That results in some tumult that makes BM have health problems. It was vague what happened, it seemed like BM was shoved aside by all the mad/scared/fighting people, so then he has a conversation with Rocky in a back room where he's like, don't stop the fight even though I am suddenly vaguely frail. He sort of clutches his chest like maybe there's a heart attack but just one of those everyday ones. I have those every time I click send on a work email. My friends should not be discouraged from championship fisticuffs when that happens.

This is the first Rocky movie to be made after Raging Bull came out, and I detect some influence in the boxing footage, like with close-ups of Mr. T.

Rocky loses that fight pretty quickly, and maybe the problem is that he didn't do a pre-victory steps jog. But the movie is telling us that BM is dying on a table in the back room and that's the real problem.

BM dies and SS has done some pretty ambitious cry-acting. Then the funeral is in one of those indoor above-ground file-cabinet-style cemeteries, which is not the normal cinematic choice so nice job there.

I can already tell that we're going to have another thirty minutes of a bummed-out Rocky to fill out Act Two before it starts to look like the setup for a fulfilling climax can begin. It's what I would have told him to write if he were my student at the third-rate community college where I'm a part-time screenwriting teacher in this scenario.

Apollo Creed has shown up to try to pep-talk Rocky, and he keeps saying "eye of the tiger" because of marketing departments. But also, he is a more mature person than in the first two movies. Even though it's a character shift, I do kind of buy it. It seems like another side of the character we knew slightly.

0:59:00 - Another scene beginning with dialogue that sounds like it was improvised by people who don't know what real life is like. "Come on you're going to be late to the airport!" "Maybe you should have packed another sweater" "no in California it's not too cold". AHA THEY ARE GOING ON A TRIP TO CALIFORNIA I AM ON TO YOU ROCKY III

When they go to Los Angeles and show us people on the street and the people have been told to look and act super different so that the audience will be like, wow California is different, then, well, we are at this part of Rocky III did you know.

Although there was my earlier expectation that we were going to have a prolonged funereal story arc, but what's happened is that Apollo is invested in training Rocky so they're showing us that side of Apollo, and that's interesting. But also it's the template of "Rocky is training and he doesn't look like he's going to get there, but then inspiration will hit and he will look like he is going to get there". S. Stallone, noted filmmaker, is using montages and flashbacks to show how recent bad news moments for Rocky are haunting him. It is working.

Adrian performs a pep talk monologue for Rocky. I don't understand her point. It's like a box of those refrigerator poetry magnets jumbled up together and spoken as movie script lines. I guess the gist is "don't give up" and he starts to think maybe he shouldn't give up. Then it's a new training montage, and it's got the classic "running far now" Rocky theme so we know it's going well. The twist on the classic cheering-atop-stairs cadence is it's Rocky and Apollo on the beach, and Rocky is a little faster than Apollo and that is great news for them both.

Now we're right before the final fight, and we heard Mr. T tell a reporter that he "pity the fool". I didn't hear the rest of what he said, I was just so happy to hear him say "pity the fool".

Oh but shortly after that he is asked what his prediction is, and he looks at the camera, OUR camera, at US, and says "PAIN". Submitted without comment.

That face-to-face moment right before the fight starts, Mr. T says "imma bust you UP" and Rocky says "go for it". Advanced Scripted Dialogue with Professor Stallone.

The final fight happens, and it's mostly the same as how the other ones went except without a montage summarizing a whole bunch of rounds. I think this whole fight ended in three rounds. But it ends with the exact same music that I'm getting sick of….

BUT! There is a follow-up scene this time! It's some other day later on and Apollo and Rocky are just palling around at the gym. And THEN the movie ends. I feel that the producers must have implored Stallone, artisan that he is, to just end the movie on that climactic moment right after the fight ends, just like the other movies, but he said NO. That is not ENOUGH for a SYLVESTER STALLONE FILM. We will have an additional scene with INCONSEQUENTIAL BANTER. It will last OVER ONE MINUTE. And here we are. Rocky III: it's like Raging Bull, but better!!

I think Talia Shire is the only female actor with any lines in this movie.

One thing that's very much worth saying about this movie is that there is WAY more actual boxing in this movie. The other ones had almost no scenes where there were live boxing matches, but this one had lots. Plus that wrestling one! And as I observed, the directing style with this one also had a newfound sense of visual pop. But the story seems like it changed not at all from how it was described in the first studio board room meeting where jackass producers blurted out what Rocky III might be like.

(next: Rocky IV)

#rocky 3

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pengychan · 4 years

Text

[Batman: TAS] Clockwork, Pt. 1

Summary: To say the Clock King was pleased to see Hamilton Hill lose his bid for re-election would be an understatement - but suddenly nothing in Gotham is on time anymore, and he has to choose the lesser evil. Characters: Temple Fugate, Hamilton Hill Rating: K

A/N: Happy birthday, @vampirenaomi! If you wondered about my radio silence these days, this was why. I was hoping to get the entire thing done by today, but I couldn’t make it. Will do my best to get the second and final part done by Christmas! (Also, little heads-up for everyone: the plot bunny for this thing actually hit me a long time ago and I promise the election fraud plotline in it has nothing to do with the insanity currently going on in the States.)

***

“Freeze!”

The order comes a quarter of a second after the first cop reaches the roof, predictable as the stroke of midday that will follow in precisely twenty-five seconds. The Clock King estimates it will take him exactly another fifteen seconds to reach the ledge, at which point he will have ten more to turn and throw in a mocking comment before his ride arrives.

Excellent. His plan has been running as smoothly as sand in an hourglass.

“I said freeze!”

Temple Fugate entirely ignores the order and keeps walking to the ledge, pocketing his watch and twirling his cane in his free hand. It is an unspoken rule in Gotham, it seems, to do anything but freeze whenever you’re told to. It only occasionally works - not in a pattern he’s been able to reliably discern, to his annoyance - when it’s Batman to give the order. Or, well, Mr. Freeze, for reasons that should be quite obvious.

An interesting fellow, that one. Intellectually gifted - he wouldn’t mind conversing with, provided that he leaves his freezing gun at the door. Fugate generally pays little mind to his colleagues, even less after having to endure the indignity of being referred to as the White Rabbit by Mr. Tetch - a comparison that he found nothing short of insulting, because he is never late. Not anymore.

Not since the one time he was late and lost everything. But he’s getting it back, one timepiece at a time. The one he just took back from the museum is a priceless one, which he acquired by sheer luck only months before he was forced to sell every single piece he ever collected to pay--

“Stay where you are!”

The Clock King reaches the ledge, turns, and gives the three cops walking towards him with their guns drawn a tip of his hat. He might have thrown an explosive watch or two at them, of course he came prepared, but they are still far away enough he knows he needs not bother. Even if they decided to sprint now, they would never get to him on time.

“Apologies, gentlemen, but I must decline your invite to stay. I have a lot of lost time to make up for,” he declares, and lets himself fall back exactly at the strike of midday. He straightens himself in mid-air, knees bent to prepare for landing on the roof of the eleven-fifty-eight train downtown going through the elevated tracks right no--

Except that there is no train beneath him. Fugate falls past the exact point where a train should be and is thrown entirely off balance. By the time he does connect with something, it’s with his left shoulder first.

“Aagh!”

He cries out, more in outrage than actual pain - though there is pain, train tracks are extremely unpleasant to pull upon from a height - and sits up, dazed, trying to make sense of that nonsense. He looks around, ascertain that there is, indeed, no train in sight. What… what just happened? The eleven-fifty-eight train is always, always precisely two minutes late.

Where is it now? It can’t have been on time, he would have heard it rushing past. Is it even more late than usual? Has it broken down? Has the schedule changed? This is an outrage - is nothing in this world reliable anymore?

“Hey! Are you all right, uh… sir?”

Fugate looks up, and sees the three cops looking down at him from the roof of the museum. “It’s Clock King to you,” he snaps, though without much venom. That is… a rather civil enquiry, and he sees no reason not to be equally civil. “I have had softer landings, but I’ll live,” he mutters, standing up and rubbing his battered shoulder. The one talking, the big one, looks relieved.

“Good! Listen, uh, Mr…”

“Clock King! It’s not that complicated!”

“Right, right. Mr. Clock King, don’t go anywhere - we’ll get you help.”

Of course, on account of not having been born yesterday - his birth took place fifty-seven years, ninety-two days and approximately seven hours ago - Fugate has no intention to wait there until they get help. “Ah, I believe I have to decline your offer, unfortunately, and be on my wa--”

“No, look - things are never so bad. Don’t do this. You’re in a dark place, but it won’t last.”

He pauses, taken aback. Their tactics to get fugitives to surrender certainly seemed to have changed since last time. “... Come again?”

“Get off the tracks, there is no reason to do anything drastic. I am sure we can help - professionals can help.”

The cop standing right next to him - the third is surely coming down the building heading his way - nods in agreement. “It’s going to get better, okay? It will be all right.”

… Wait. Wait a moment.

Fugate sputters a moment, face ablaze as incredulity and outrage threaten to choke him. “Is this-- are you-- is this some kind of suicide prevention talk?” he yells, pointing up accusingly with his cane. “What in the world makes you think it is the appropriate response now?”

The two of them blink a moment, then exchange a glance before looking back down at him. “... You just jumped off a roof on the train tracks.”

“I am aware! But the eleven fifty-eight train is always exactly two minutes late! Is should have been--”

His words are covered by a warning cry from one of the cops first, then vibrations on the tracks, and finally by a dreadful, loud horn.

Ah. There it is.

Right after turning to see the eleven fifty-eight train rushing towards him, Temple Fugate has enough time to make two calculations: the first is that it’s five minutes late, which is entirely unacceptable. The second is that he has approximately nine seconds to get off the tracks before he’s turned into something resembling strawberry jam, which is highly concerning.

He doesn’t quite manage to estimate precisely by how many seconds he manages to avoid that fate, but later on he decides that is probably for the best.

***

Hamilton Hill, former Mayor of Gotham City, is rather enjoying his retirement.

Well. Perhaps losing re-election for Mayor and spending most of his time in his mansion to lick his wounds is not precisely what most people would consider a vacation, but saying he is ‘taking some time to spend with his family’ got most attention off his back for now.

There is the fact he’s been divorced fifteen years and Jordan is off to college, so the house is empty aside for himself and some domestic staff, but that isn’t something the general public needs to know. He needs some time, is all, to recover from a loss that was unexpected as it was painful, and then to figure out where he’s going from here.

Back to practicing law, probably. He enjoyed that. Maybe returning to the courtroom having to worry only about the fate of the person he represente and not the entire city will do him good. Gotham is far from an easy city to serve as Mayor, so much so that some of his closest friends delicately suggested he belonged in Arkham for just wanting the job. And maybe they were not too far off, Hill muses. Maybe losing the election was a blessing in disguise.

… Maybe he needs another glass of port.

He is pouring himself said glass when the glass door leading to the balcony opens, letting in a gust of cold wind. That could mean a number of things in Gotham: that the latch of the window was not closed properly, that a criminal is breaking in, that Batman is breaking in.

All three things have happened remarkably often in the past decade or so, and Hill simply got used to visits from a masked vigilante, or the occasional kidnapping scheme that would later be foiled by said masked vigilante, so he’s not overly worried. But perhaps, as he no longer is the Mayor, this is simply a matter of closing the glass door properly and--

“Hill,” a voice proclaims.

Well. It was not the latch.

Hamilton Hill makes the decision to gulp down half the glass before he turns. “Mr. Fugate,” he greets politely, before his eyes even rest on the figure standing rigidly on the balcony. He recognized his voice quite well, of course. When someone tries to squish you between the hands of a giant clock, you do tend to remember what they sound like. “What do I owe the pleasure?”

Temple Fugate lets out a noise of mild disgust. “I highly doubt you’re any more pleased to see me than I am to see you,” he informs him, stepping inside. “But as the situation in Gotham City is most dire--”

Hill downs the rest of the glass. Fugate trails off, then reaches into his pocket to pull out - of course - a watch. He stares at it for a moment before he looks back up at Hill, at the glass in his hand, at the liquor cabinet he’s standing at. “It’s eleven thirty-two in the morning,” he finally informs him.

“So it is.”

“Not even noon yet.”

“And…?”

“Don’t and me, Hill! Isn’t it-- far too early to be drinking whatever it is you’re drinking?”

Ah, Gotham truly was like no other city, was it? The only place where a man who kidnapped and tried to kill you can later show up to lecture over socially acceptable times for alcohol consumption, without any self-awareness whatsoever. Hill supposes Fugate truly is a man born in the wrong time: he would have been right at home during prohibition. He considers voicing that thought, but in the end he shrugs.

“I’m only having a glass. I’m not drinking myself into a stupor.”

“Your demeanour suggests otherwise.” Fugate frowns, or at least it looks like he’s frowning. It’s hard to tell, with those glasses, but he seems mildly offended. “A reasonable reaction upon seeing me would be fear,” he adds, pointing towards him with that curious cane of his, part sword and part clock hand. “Possibly a scream, if not too drawn out or grating, followed by an attempt at running for your life.”

Ah, here comes the lecture in proper hostage etiquette. “Let me reassure you, it is not down to alcohol,” Hill informs him, putting down the empty glass. Honest to God, he would be more worried if he found himself facing a run-of-the-mill goon with a gun; people like that are more likely to simply shoot you dead. But those like the Clock King, or the Joker or whoever was out in the streets that week? They would come up with an elaborate scheme that gave Batman plenty of time to intervene.

Maybe the best course of action would be to stall for more time, until Batman does intervene.

“Don’t take it personally, Fugate, but I have been Mayor of Gotham for too long not to get used to some things,” Hill adds. “No Tuesday is complete without at least an attempt at kidnapping me.”

The frown turns into something closer to disgust. “It’s Monday, Hill. have you truly lost all sense of time?”

“Happens when you’re on holiday, I suppose. I am no longer Mayor of Gotham City.”

“I am aware. About that--”

“I am a private citizen with a lot of time on my hands.”

“Not for long!” Fugate snaps, stepping forward with the cane pointed at Hill’s chest. Ah, yes, there come the death threats and-- “You must return into office!”

… Wait. What? Hill blinks, and moves the cane aside with one arm to look at the Clock King’s face more closely. “... Come again?”

“Are you deaf? I am here to make sure you take back your office.”

Who are you, Hill thinks, and what have you done to Fugate?

“Are you well?” he finds himself asking instead, and Fugate groans, throwing up his arms. The cane very nearly knocks a very expensive lamp right off the nearest table.

“Of course I’m not! Two months with a new Mayor, and this entire city is in shambles, Hill!”

That’s not exactly what Hill expected to hear. He has been told that his replacement made a few… questionable choices, appointing questionable people in delicate roles, and there have been some complaints - but no account he’s heard so far made the situation sound quite that dire. Not that he doesn’t get some vindication over being told that the man who ousted him is making a dreadful mess of things.

“Is it now?”

“Of course it is!” Temple Fugate paces back and forth, features twisted in what’s nothing short of anguish. “Nothing - and I do mean, nothing - is on time anymore! The trains, the buses, everything is all over the place!”

“Yes, I did hear that the public transport office had an overhaul--”

“Not that your administration was ever able to make things run on time,” Fugate cuts him off, clearly not inclined to hear a single word from him at the moment. “But most things were reliably late. There was a schedule, there was a pattern! Now there’s nothing but chaos! How am I meant to carry on in such a world?”

Hill opens his mouth to suggest he loosens up, remembers what happened last time he advised him as much, and chooses not to. “Surely, it is not quite that bad--”

“Yesterday there was the inauguration of a new mall. It was meant to be at midday - the ribbon was cut almost sixteen minutes late, Hill! What sort of administration is sixteen minutes late?”

"Yes, that is, er. Absolutely unacceptable,” Hill says. He knows better than dismissing it as something minor, considering that it’s distressing Fugate enough to make him turn to the man he probably despises the most in the entire world. “However, there isn’t much I can do--”

“Once you’re the Mayor again, you can put things in order,” Template declares, pointing at his chest with his cane again. “And everything will be just as it was before. Until I exact my revenge on you, that is. Which will be--” he pauses, and a look of discomfort crosses his features at the realization he doesn’t have a set time for that. “... Soon,” he finishes, not very threateningly.

Hill frowns, pushing the razor-sharp tip of the cane away from his rather expensive shirt and, rather more importantly, the general vicinity of vital organs. “Fugate, as much as I’d like to help you - possibly with better results than last time I attempted to - there is nothing I can do. I lost my bid for re-election. I cannot just waltz in my old office and declare--”

“You can,” Fugate cuts him off once more.

“Yes, I suppose I could, only to be arrested before--”

“This election was rigged.”

Hill trails off, his brain grinding to a halt. “... Come again?” he hears himself muttering, searching Fugate’s face for any sign that he may be joking despite his strong suspicion that Fugate is simply incapable of uttering a joke. All he gets is an annoyed hum.

“Get your hearing checked,” the Clock King mutters irritably. “Surely you must have suspected it.”

He didn’t, not really. The race was rather close from the start, his opponent a new face who made plenty of promises Hill already knew he would be unable to keep but which, apparently, many couldn’t resist; alluring lies often hold more sway than less glamorous truths. He’d thought he would win, sure enough, but that it would be narrow. So his defeat by a rather small margin had been… a surprise, sure enough, but not something he’d thought beyond the realms of possibility.

“I… not really.”

“Hmph.” Fugate scoffs, and sits on the nearest armchair. He may very well be sitting on a stool, because he doesn’t lean back: he remains upright, back rigid, both hands on the handle of his cane. “Unexpectedly gullible for someone sly enough to engineer my demise.”

Oh, for God’s sake. “I engineered nothing. I only suggested you took your coffee break fifteen minutes later than usual because you were so tense--”

“The plaintiffs were represented by your law firm! Am I supposed that your advice making me late for the court date was a coincidence, Hill?”

“Yes, because it was! I had nothing to do with that case, I knew nothing about it - it was only some advice in a conversation you started in the first place.”

The last statement seems to hit a nerve, and there is something on Fugate’s face, a twitch that passes immediately but doesn’t go unnoticed. After all, Hamilton Hill built his career on being able to take note of every telling twitch and expression shown by witnesses and defendants. “... You have thought of that, haven’t you? That it was yourself to start talking that morning, not myself. There was no plan nor conspiracy. You were not targeted. It was a terrible coincidence-”

Fugate’s hands clench on the handle of his cane, so tight the knuckles go white. His jaw clenches before he speaks, words cold and clipped. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“It all happened by chance. Out of your control. Accidents happen whether or not we believe--”

“Silence!” Fugate snaps, tapping his cane on the hardwood floor and likely leaving a hole in it. “I will get you back for it, mark my words, but this is not the reason why I’m here. And you have already wasted--” a pause to check his pocket watch. “Fifteen minutes of my time. Now, do you want to hear what I know, or not?”

Hill sighs, and sits on the armchair across him. “How do you know the election was rigged?”

“I crunched the numbers. Something is not adding up.”

“My entire campaign team crunched the numbers--”

“People who were not me,” Fugate cuts him off, a sharp edge to his voice. “And who forgot to keep an eye on the time.”

Ah, of course. Of course it was going to boil down to time.

Hamilton Hill can feel the beginning of a violent headache starting to build up behind his eyes. “All right, I’ll hear you out.”

“You’d better.”

The headache immediately spikes a notch. Hill glances back at the liquor cabinet, thinking he could use another glass of port. “Can I offer--”

“I do not drink. Certainly not before noon.” Fugate’s voice sure is full of judgment for someone who goes around with glasses looking like the face of a clock, stealing timepieces from auction houses and museums and throwing around explosive pocket watches.

“... Right. Coffee?”

“I have my coffee at three in the afternoon. On the dot,” is the stiff reply. “As you very well know.”

Hill almost considers asking why not three-fifteen, then his gaze falls on the razor-sharp tip of the Clock King’s cane and he decides against it.

“... Very well,” he finally says, leaning back on his armchair. “Tell me what you’ve found.”

***

The key, as it’s the case with most things in life, was in the timing.

It was something easily overlooked by most people who poured over the election result, exit polls and whatnot, but Fugate found the answer by painstakingly looking through the transcript of all votes registered by the brand new voting machines, which allowed one to give their vote at the press of a button. There were no names, nor details to match individual voters to any vote, but he found something better.

On each of them, he found timestamps.

One of the tenets of Temple Fugate’s existence is that everything has a chronological order. Everything has a discernible pattern. And where order and pattern are disrupted, it can only mean one thing: human intervention. Bumbling, chaotic, life-ruining human intervention, like sand in the cogs or a too-jovial councillor suggesting a break fifteen minutes later. Fugate has seen human intervention at work more times than he’d have liked.

But until he began looking into this, he had never seen anything quite like it.

“So something is wrong with the… timestamps?”

Unsurprisingly, former Mayor Hamilton Hill is having trouble keeping up with his explanation. “Yes. In the districts of Gotham where you were expected to perform better, the pattern was disrupted.” Fugate pulls out his notes from the breast pocket of his jacket and hands them to Hill, who opens the folded pieces of paper to take a long look. “Your team poured over nonsense like age, or gender, or race and class--”

“It isn’t nonsense, it helps predict--”

“But none of them,” Fugate speaks a little louder, cutting off whatever nonsense he was about to spew, “looked at the time in which each vote was cast. One after another, polling stations in each of those districts had precisely a two-hour window during which not one vote was cast in your favor.”

Hill blinks down at his notes, adjusting his glasses as though to see better. “What? Not one?”

“Not a single one, you can check the timestamps yourself. Just read - the pattern is clear.”

He sees it, Fugate can tell from the way his eyes widen. He may be dense, but not so dense that he couldn’t see the pattern now that it had been pointed out to him. He stands and begins pacing back and forth, eyes glued to Fugate’s notes.

“I think, these polling places-- I would need to look at a map to be certain, but--”

Well, he has picked that up on his own. If not stubbornly determined not to be impressed by anything this man does or say ever, Fugate could say he is impressed.

“No need. I already did, and saw what you are seeing now. This happened in polling stations close to each other. There was the first one downtown, then another a short distance away, then another a short distance away from that one… and so forth. It, whatever it was, moved across the city with brief pauses consistent with the time it would take to drive from one polling station to the next. This kept up for the entire two days the polls were open,” Fugate adds with no small amount of disapproval.

He sees no reason why the citizens of Gotham would need more than one day to pick their Mayor, but apparently the change was brought forward upon suggestion of Bruce Wayne, along with the decision to hold the vote over a weekend. Something about allowing more time to vote to people working long hours. How typical, catering to people who cannot be on time by giving them more time.

Unaware of his musings, Hill is still staring at the notes, then at him, then back at the notes. “I… how can it be?”

“Is it possible someone was able to sabotage the voting machines?”

Hill frowns, ceasing his pacing, and finally shakes his head. “I don’t believe so. Those machines were inspected before and after, and are not connected to any other device. They store all votes within their own memory and at the end of the day, the data is saved on an external device. There are witnesses for all candidates each time, to ensure everything is transparent.”

“Yes, that is what I suspected.” Fugate frowns, rubbing his chin. “I have looked for a link between your Mayor Sanderson and the company that manufactured the machines, but found none. Well then. This only leaves one option.”

Hill blinks, trying to think what he may mean and drawing a blank. “What option?”

“If the devices and therefore the votes were not manipulated, then the voters were. At least to a more extreme degree than they usually are during your campaigns.”

Hill gives him a look that somehow manages to be insulted, stunned, and confused at the same time. “I beg your pardon?”

“You may not have my pardon, Hill, but I will repeat myself,” is the dry reply. “You must agree this very clear pattern must have been the result of an external intervention. If the machines could not be compromised, then the people in the voting booths were.”

Hill stares. Opens his mouth. Closes his mouth. Stares some more.

“... Not that I don’t appreciate you keeping silent for once, but as I cannot read your mind--”

“Is this-- what are you exactly suggesting, Fugate? Some sort of mass bribery?”

“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous. Word could have got out immediately if such an attempt had taken place. I said the voters were manipulated, not bribed - were you not listening?”

A scoff. “Manipulated with what? Hypnosis?”

“You say that like no such thing occurred in Gotham before.”

For the second time in less than a minute - Fugate probably knows exactly how many seconds - Hill finds himself opening his mouth to speak and then closing it without uttering a single word. He is right, something remarkably similar did happen from time to time in Gotham, usually the work of… of…

“Now, I cannot imagine Mr. Tetch has any stake in this, but the man is not above selling his machinery for money. It is a possibility worth exploring, don’t you think?” Fugate says.

Tetch isn’t above giving people wildly unfitting and unrequired nicknames either - White Rabbit, the notorious latecomer, what an insult that has been - but that is beside the point at the moment, and Fugate doesn’t bring up that particular grievance.

“I… yes, I suppose it is,” Hill is muttering, looking at his notes over and over as though he thinks anything has changed while he wasn’t looking. “I should call the police, perhaps Commissioner Gordon--”

“Forget the police, they’re busy giving misguided anti-suicide speeches these days. Perhaps once you’re the Mayor again, you can see they are hired in Arkham.” Fugate stands, adjusting his tie. “I know exactly where to go to gain some intel.”

“... Right. I’ll get my coat.”

Fugate blinks. “... I beg your pardon?”

“It’s cold outside. I am not sure how you manage to stroll around with only a suit on, but--”

“Whatever gave you the idea that you are coming?”

“Why else would you show you up here to tell me all this?”

“To let you know what an imbecile you are for letting someone steal an election from you. Put that coat down-- Hill!” Fugate barks, but it’s too late: the coat is on and Hill is buttoning it up, looking back at him. Good God, he misses the days Hamilton Hill feared him.

“I am not about to leave you a choice, Fugate,” he says, much too flippantly for the Clock King’s taste. “This is personal. I am certain you of all people understand.”

“That’s not-- well--” Fugate is taken aback, fumbles for words. It is only a couple of instant, but it is enough for Hill to get coy.

“Good to see we reached an understanding. Are we going, or are you inclined to waste more time, mmh?”

The remark makes Fugate want to smack him with his cane, or better yet skewer him with it, but that would be rather counterproductive as a dead man cannot be elected Mayor and he needs Hill alive for… a little while longer. Just enough to fix the utter mess his successor has made of things. A sixteen minute delay on an inauguration, for God’s sake. How is anyone meant to live in such chaos?

The thought of ending that particular brand of chaos is what eventually stills Fugate’s hand. He takes in a deep breath, relaxing his grip on the cane. “... Very well. But you will do exactly as I say. No speaking, no initiatives. And if you’re going to take any advice from me, put your hat on and lose the glasses,” he adds, turning back towards the window. “The place we’re heading to is both rather cold and not someplace you’d want to be recognized if you wish to avoid a potential scandal.”

“Fugate?” Hill calls out, causing him to stop walking and look at him over his shoulder. Chickening out already, is he? He almost smirks, waiting to hear excuses as to why he has just realized he really cannot come with hi--

“You do realize we can get out through the door, right?” Hill says instead, pointing at the door behind himself with his thumb. Something about his raised eyebrow makes Fugate scowl.

“Well, it is not often I get the luxury to go through main doors, since you made me a wanted fugitive,” he mutters, crossing his arms.

“I thought I made you late.”

“It is the same thing!” the Clock King snaps, and stomps out of the room, using the window out of sheer spite.

#batman: tas #batman #mayor hill #clock king #batman: the animated series #temple fugate

13 notes · View notes

notdeadjack · 4 years

Text

annual rec list 2020

13 fandoms represented:

Part 1: 55 fics total

Leverage: 13 fics Star Wars: 3 fics Star Trek: 2 fics Haikyuu!!: 13 fics Teen Wolf: 3 fics Jurassic Park: 1 fic The Witcher: 1 fic Merlin: 3 fics Borderlands: 2 fics She-Ra and the Princesses of Power: 2 fics Naruto: 8 fics Dorohedoro: 3 fics

Part 2:

Boku no Hero Academia: 211 fics here

If the read more breaks, I am truly sorry oTL

List split into two bc tumblr called me out on reading too many fics and wouldn’t let me post all of them at once boo

Leverage

https://archiveofourown.org/works/799639 your body is a war zone but you are not a ruin by postcardmystery 2k, Alec/Parker/Eliot,

“Make me a sandwich,” Parker says, so he does.

“Cut the damn wire,” says Hardison, so he does.

“Jump,” says Parker, says Hardison, and he never needs to ask, “How high?”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12475840 Well Worn, Well Loved by BabylonsFall 3k, Alec/Parker/Eliot, fluff, sharing clothes,

You would think, given everyone’s space issues this wouldn’t be a thing. But it was. And none of them were complaining.

(Everyone steals each others clothes. They're all surprisingly okay with it.)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/6363724 Hotel Heart by Laughsalot3412 45k, Alec/Parker/Eliot, canon-AU, psychic abilities, mind rape,

He had a sniper rifle scoping the girl’s bright eyes and the guy’s smile.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1407967 The Safe and Sound Job by flutterflap 15k, Alec/Parker/Eliot, injury, h/c,

Eliot Spencer doesn't do hospitals.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3861028 like a map of a place you've never been by bydaybreak 24k, Alec/Parker/Eliot, pining, slow burn, fake/pretend relationship,

He knows it’d be so fucking easy, if he’d let himself. Because he’s easy for them, has been since that first job, since the day he hauled Hardison’s ass out of a building about to explode. It’d be so easy.

So he won’t.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3928687 the warmth of your doorways by gyzym 3k, Alec/Parker/Eliot,

Don't let me in with no intention to keep me.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1357111 Old Dog by thingswithwings 16k, Alec/Parker/Eliot, service submission, bdsm, mild puppy play,

Eliot's their hitter, and taking on any physical threats to the team is his job, but there's something beyond professionalism – even beyond the obvious fact that Eliot relishes the fight itself – in the way he puts his body between Parker or Alec and any potential threat. Alec has a good view of Eliot's back on a lot of jobs, and he reads something in the tight line of Eliot's shoulder, in the slow turn of his foot as he steps into a fighting stance.

Something possessive.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/8823406 Motion Parallax by Laughsalot3412 8k, Alec/Parker/Eliot, outsider pov,

So, apparently Amy’s boss was part of a criminal gang.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/9071065 Wash the sorrow from off my skin by Keiya 2k, Alec/Parker/Eliot, soulmates,

He lays on his bed and knows without a doubt that his soulmates can read Fucking Genius on their skin, or maybe just Genius, but Fucking gives a ring to it.

Because he is, baby, he is.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2854310 Love (By Any Other Name) by ChouetteAnanas41 5k, Alec/Parker/Eliot,

Eliot fell in love on a Tuesday.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3928888 Pancakes by saavik13 7k, Alec/Parker/Eliot, mentions of rape and child abuse, h/c,

Parker can't ever ask a simple question.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3556844 No Time Like the Present by waterbird13 22k, Alec/Parker/Eliot, past Moreau/Eliot, violence, murder, child murder,

Eliot's past with Damien Moreau is even more complicated than most people know about, and of course that would come up again when dealing with his incredibly complicated present feelings for Parker and Hardison. Eliot isn't a hundred percent sure how love works, but he's pretty positive it exists only to bite him in the ass.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/4542576 Guard Your Eggshell Heart by letsgostealafandom 14k, Alec/Parker/Eliot, praise kink,

Parker had a theory, and her theory was this: it made Eliot really happy when they noticed the things he did for them. It made Eliot happy when they made sure he knew they noticed the things he did for them. And when Eliot thought they didn't notice, it made him- not unhappy, but something worse, something like he knew that was all he could expect from anyone and he'd resigned himself to it a while back. Once she'd noticed it, she couldn't stop, and the realization of how often they took Eliot for granted made her stomach twist uncomfortably.

Star Wars

https://archiveofourown.org/works/5783371 This is Called Falling by Cartopathy 24k, Finn/Poe, h/c,

Poe stood and he walked, remembering suddenly his only friend on the planet was gone and there was little hope of finding a town, much less hospitality.

And yet he walked in hope.

There was a stormtrooper—he needed to find the stormtrooper. ________________________________

“Was Poe important to you? You were close in the Resistance?” Rey asked.

Finn cleared his throat. “Yes, because I’m in the Resistance and he was in the Resistance so we've known each other for a while. He was important to me, yes.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18546007 Stop Your Fear by gloss 12k, Finn/Poe, sex pollen, dub-con, public sex, pining,

Imprisoned by space pirates, Finn and Poe get to know each other better. When Finn gets whammied with sex pollen, Poe helps him out, not entirely unselfishly.

Afterward, they try to clean up the mess and take care of each other.

please note: sex is entirely consensual, but within a compromised situation. Dub-con, not non con.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/6904006 Against Disaster by gloss 29k, Finn/Poe, pining, PTSD,

Not that he loved Finn. There was no way he could love someone he'd spoken to for all of ten minutes, no matter how lifechanging those minutes proved to be.

He loved the feeling of it all. The thrill, the novelty, the rush. Everything he'd shared with Finn had been more exciting than the rest of his life put together, and his life had been far from sedate.

That's what he told himself, anyway.

__ Poe's a disaster and Finn's still got a lot of brainwashing to work through.

Star Trek

https://archiveofourown.org/works/849107 Treasures by yeaka 17k, Kirk/Spock, AU, pon farr, soul bond,

Sometimes the other Vulcans wonder how Spock managed to obtain such an exotic bondmate, and sometimes Spock wonders himself.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11697684 Echolocation by Darksknight 8k, Kirk/Spock,

Kirk and Spock don’t realize that they’ve bonded right away. The rest of the crew is a different story.

Haikyuu!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21762448 discovering the smile of one kageyama tobio by Emlee_J 8k, Hinata/Kageyama, fluff,

Kageyama blinks once before a grin of his own spreads over his face. Shouyou’s breath halts in his lungs at the sight, and he wills for time to stop, just so he can drink it in. He sees it sometimes, when they’re playing - Kageyama’s fierce smile when they pull a combo off just right, when they show their opponents how possible the impossible can really be. But then there’s another serve, another rally, and the moment is gone.

'Shame', Shouyou thinks to himself, as he lets his eyes roam over Kageyama’s stupidly happy face, taking in the creases that are from joy rather than frowning, for a change. 'It’s a really nice smile.'

In which it's their third, and final, year in high school and Hinata has only one goal: to make Kageyama smile outside of volleyball.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/5479973 75% Useless Pining by ravelqueen 4k, Nishinoya/Asahi, pining, hair kink,

People often ask Asahi why he keeps his hair long. He gives them a different reason every time, from being too lazy to cut it, over saying he thinks it looks nice on him, to just ducking his head and hoping they'll move on.

The actual reason is pettier and smaller and has nothing to do with his fashion sense and everything to do with Nishinoya.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2330126 Exception to the rule by Mysecretfanmoments 2k, Sugawara/Daichi,

In which Sugawara Koushi just so happens to belong to the .001% of guys Daichi might conceivably fall for, and it takes a confused third party for Daichi to realize it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21580309 Just Another by Mooifyourecows 103k, Sugawara/Daichi, drama, humour, childhood friends, flip-flopping,

Everything is changing. But in the midst of exams, plans for the future, nationals, and a tumultuous new fracture to his family life, at least Sawamura Daichi can always count on his friendship with Sugawara Koushi to stay the same.

Or so he thought.

(RN: some of the best flirting i’ve ever read. also, Sugawara’s family? A++)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2940728 boys by buu 5k, Sugawara/Daichi,

Before, if Suga had been asked to pick a type, he would have hummed and thought it over, maybe said something vague like “nice eyes” or “nice legs” or “a good personality”. Now, he can only think “Daichi”.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3189353 Perfectionism by Mysecretfanmoments 2k, Sugawara/Daichi, practise kissing, accidental boners,

“I just wish it was something you could practice before you have to… perform.” He narrows his eyes, imagining it. “Like a CPR class.”

Suga raises an eyebrow. “You want to practice it. Beforehand.”

“Yeah. Are you offering?”

((Daichi doesn't like to be bad at things--kissing included--and Suga is willing to help him practice.))

https://archiveofourown.org/works/6411370 Jealousy by surveycorpsjean 7k, Sugawara/Daichi, jealousy,

It’s so horrid- it feels like sludge in Suga’s stomach, like poison in his veins, like an itch behind his skin.

It burns, it stings. He hates it, he hates it more than anything, but he can’t help it.

He’s hopelessly in love.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7496004 Hinata Shouyou's Fucking Face by Esselle 17k, Hinata/Kageyama,

'Kageyama doesn't know why Hinata's face rubs him the wrong way—it just does. So one day, in an attempt to pinpoint exactly what it is that makes Hinata's Shouyou's fucking face so fucking annoying, he begins to catalogue all the things that really tick him off.

This proves to be startlingly revelatory.'

A thought-provoking study and critical analysis of Hinata Shouyou's stupid face, by Kageyama Tobio.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1831732 need a friend you can fuck, i can be that by readbetweenthelions 5k, Nishinoya/Tanaka, friends with benefits,

noya and tanaka are just really good friends who have a bit of good, not-exactly-clean friendly sex sometimes. here's the first time it happens.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3332642 it's fine by lokh 2k, Nishinoya/Tanaka, phone sex, just dudes being bros,

have you ever wanted to jack off but you're in the middle of talking to someone and you can't exactly tell them that you've gotta jack off so you either sit through it awkwardly or make an excuse to leave? imagine that they found out and tell you that it's fine if you just jack off mid-conversation. now imagine that it's not you and it's tanaka and noya. that's the whole plot.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/5103794 find out what we're made of by sweggscellent 2k, Nishinoya/Tanaka, first kiss, frottage,

It’s weird, noticing things about your best friend when your best friend is literally the goofiest person on the planet, but Noya does; the swell of his powerful calves, the line of his back when his tee shirts cling to it with sweat, the strangely graceful determination on his face when they’re up against a particularly strong team. It almost makes Noya uncomfortable.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/6205864 Rule 4 by mean_whale 15k, Nishinoya/Tanaka, friends with benefits, friends to lovers,

Nishinoya and Tanaka are tricked into watching gay porn, and curiosity gets the better of them.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/5979136 Roundabout by Shaples 12k, Nishinoya/Tanaka, past asanoya, post-canon, emotional h/c,

“Actually I, uh. I was thinking I might stick around. Like, long term? I mean, if you haven’t already found someone to rent the other room, and you still. You know. Want to live together.”

Tanaka’s eyes widened in surprise. “I thought that you and Asahi were-”

“Yeah,” Noya said. “We aren’t.”

“Oh,” he said. And when Noya didn’t look up from the label on his beer bottle, Tanaka breathed out, “Shit.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13344624 And They Were Roommates by Hella_Queer 7k, Hinata/Kageyama, first time, trans character,

“I can like...eat you out if you want.”

Silence surrounds them. This was it. Three years of friendship down the tubes. Kageyama would move out, or demand he move out, and he'd be forever branded as the Pervert Roommate. No one would talk to him ever again. His life was over!

“Okay.”

“Whaaaaa?!”

Teen Wolf

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22812937 Five Times Derek Heard Something He Wished He Hadn’t, and the One Time He Did by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) 14k, Stiles/Derek, 5+1, pining,

“This place is hell,” Derek decided. “This place is absolutely hell.”

How was it possible he’d gone so many years of his life without hearing anything nearly as over the top as he had just visiting Stiles at school? This had to be some kind of record for the most disgusting things he’d ever overheard.

(I mean really, the title says it all lol)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27872045 Can You Feel A Whole New Part of Your World? by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) 53k, Stiles/Derek, AU, neighbours, fluff,

“Can you hear me singing in the shower?” Stiles blurted out, because he had to know, now. If one of his neighbours had slid that note under his door, then it meant Parrish as another neighbour could hear him, too! He had to know if this was all a huge joke and one person had walked by and overheard him and decided to fuck with him.

Or if everyone could hear him and he now had to leave the country.

Parrish gave him a weird look at the question, but answered anyway, making Stiles’ plans to leave the country speed up in his mind.

“Of course I can. You’re actually not bad. Though you have been singing a lot of Frozen lately, getting kind of tired of the soundtrack.”

“Oh my God!” Stiles shouted in his face.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/6156885 you're never too much of an old dog to teach a duckling a new trick by driedupwishes 2k, gen, light angst,

“Y’know, it’d be real neat if someone gave me a gun,” Stiles says.

And Chris does.

Jurassic Park

https://archiveofourown.org/works/5199038 5 Times the Raptors Tried to Kill Miriam, and 1 Time They Didn’t by JulisCaesar 22k, OCs, gen, blood, science, freaking dinosaurs heck yeah!

Miriam thought the job working for InGen sounded perfect. Tropical island, good pay, first dibs on publications… At least, she thought so until she found out that she was the only behaviorist on staff. Once the eggs hatched, it became all she could do to keep up–with the dinosaurs, the science, and her health.

The Witcher

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22247587 swallow my breath and take what is mine by anacaoris 6k, Jaskier/Geralt, first time, sugar baby!geralt,

“It began with the baths.

It had been so easy to dismiss at first. Some attempted to win him over with kindness-with-a-catch when in need of something, a bed for the night, a pouch of coin, a good drink to lower the cost.”

Jaskier likes to take care of Geralt. Geralt very quickly takes notice.

Merlin (BBC)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7287 In Want of a Wife by syllic 43k, Merlin/Arthur,

When Merlin first hears that Arthur has been betrothed, his ribs pull inwards with an odd little hitch, and he only allows himself a second—which he needs in order to coordinate spinning in place without falling on his face—before he’s running to Arthur’s chambers.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2193282 The Frog Prince by Clea2011 58k, Merlin/Arthur, canon AU, disability,

Canon era AU. A teenage Arthur is hit by a mutation spell intended for Uther. Unable to speak and hidden away by his father because of his appearance, Arthur is left lonely and isolated. A few years later Gaius takes on a new apprentice, someone who can understand Arthur and see through the enchantment. Someone with magic.

But breaking the spell was never going to be easy.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/835089 Such a Life, a Heart, a Mind as Thine by dreamlittleyo 42k, Merlin/Arthur, sex pollen, first time, non-con, soul bond, guilt,

In which Arthur inadvertently triggers an ancient magic, but he does not face the consequences alone.

Borderlands

https://archiveofourown.org/works/8628043 How They Met Themselves by Wheat From Chaff (wheatfromchaff) 205k, Timothy/Rhys, slow burn, past abuse,

Rhys wants to change Pandora. He wants to make things better, build things up. He wants, more than anything, to prove Jack wrong.

Tim just wants to get paid.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/9951275 you'll find me buried by Wheat From Chaff (wheatfromchaff) 7k, Jack/Timothy, fight club, hate sex, dub-con,

It's not every day you face yourself in the ring.

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16748245 tooth for a tooth by nowweareunstoppable 3k, Adora/Catra, exploration, first time, biting,

Now, though, Adora was on top of her, and her chest heaved in a way that was decidedly not sleepy. She pleaded with Catra with her eyes, then her words, “Please, I just-” before cutting off, not knowing what to even ask for.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19767655 More than Words by SimonKilnsworth 5k, Kyle/Rogelio, first time,

Rogelio gets woken up in the night as Kyle struggles with his feelings.

Naruto

https://archiveofourown.org/series/37259 Ten Years Gone series by 100demons 80k, gen, time-travel,

Thirty year old Kakashi was supposed to have been killed by Pein during the Invasion. Instead, he wakes up in the body of his twenty year old self.

(It gets a lot more complicated.)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25538635 Better It Be You by cricket_aria 4k, Kakashi/Sakura, dodging arranged marriage,

When Sakura's parents realize that she would be ill-trained for any job in the civilian world should she ever be too badly injured to remain a ninja they decide to try to arrange a marriage for her with one of the members of a major clan, so that at least if that day comes she'll still have value within the ninja community. Too bad they didn't discuss it with her first.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14143890 the chosen fruit by theformerone 51k, Sakura/Shikamaru, AU, honey pot, sex work, exhibitionism, implied non-con, kidnapping, drama, politics,

Sakura is a rōnin, but she's good enough with a blade to find work. She's trusted at Fukiage because she's a nameless woman who can't afford to bite any hand that feeds her.

Shikamaru's awful attitude makes him a favorite in the teahouse. He makes his money on his back but his real trade is information. There is rot in Fire Country. Shikamaru sees it, and he is going to burn it at the roots.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16304705 Being Over-Prepared is Impossible (and other mottos) by Pleasedial123 gen, 40k, canon-AU, BAMF!team 7,

In one world, Kakashi awoke, felt grieved at being assigned a team he sees his own in, and he let that grief make him a lazy teacher. He saw himself in Sasuke, Obito in Naruto, and Rin in Sakura. He woke, saw himself in them, and took a large step back, regretting accepting them as his new team. In another world he was quite hands off, merely a watcher because it was so very painful to watch. He saw himself and all his mistakes in this new team of his.

In this world, Kakashi awoke, saw the similarities, and instantly panicked. He suddenly realized what he had done, passing a team. Kakashi was left scrambling not to repeat old mistakes and regrets. This team would not suffer the fate of his team.

In this world, simply put, Kakashi became a teacher. This is the starting of a new Team seven.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13690269 there to welcome you home by theformerone 1k, Sakura/Neji/Shikamaru, fluff,

Sakura gives birth to their daughter in the bathtub in the main house on the Nara compound.

Neji comes home and nearly has a stroke.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14902124 brown eyes steal me by theformerone 10k, Kiba/Shikamaru, canon-au, arranged marriage, mutual pining,

"You planted a -,"

"I planted a tree, Ino, I know, I was there."

"Kousa," she says, finishing as if he never interrupted. "Not very original, but cute. You think that'll be what you name your firstborn?"

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18913750 gonna give you all my love, boy by theformerone 2k, Sakura/Shikamaru, first time,

Shikamaru is a (maybe ace?) virgin. Sakura is not either of those things. It still all works out. Sexually, speaking.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18756313 Consideration: Or, The Smart Kids Get (It) Together by cairn 12k, Sakura/Shikamaru, friends to lovers,

Noun: Consideration 1. Careful thought, typically over a period of time. 2. A fact or a motive taken into account in deciding or judging something. 3. Law: (in a contractual agreement) anything given or promised or forborne by one party in exchange for the promise or undertaking of another.

"You want to give yourself cancer?" she had asked.

"Good afternoon, Sakura," he'd drawled back. "So nice to see you so unexpectedly."

Dorohedoro

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25767034 I Am Intrinsically No Good by Medegela 2k, Noi/Shin, accidental voyeurism, sexual tension, masturbation,

They had recently renewed their partnership for the third time and things he faintly noticed and always dismissed before were amplified. He knew now that she also enjoyed watching him, he knew that the same kind of release ran through her when she saw him, and he was sure of that because of the contract.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12192696 Secondhand Smoke by dirtbag -1k, Noi/Shin, unresolved romantic tension, magical shotgunning,

They sure do this a lot, for something that's so endlessly frustrating.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12387897 Love Is a Verb by dirtbag 4k, Noi/Shin, pegging,

Shin can’t figure out why Noi is so insistent on being careful with him tonight when he’s pretty sure he’s come out of her bedroom mildly concussed before.

#notdead recs #rec list

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amandaoftherosemire · 5 years

Text

The Perfect Fit

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Characters: Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3,062

Format: One-shot

Warning: Language, mild angst, fluff, implied smut, oh so much fluff, adult and light sexual situations.

Summary: Steve Rogers always seems to be wearing shirts that are way too tight for your peace of mind. One day you get the whole story.

A/N: The meta regarding Steve’s smedium shirts inspired this light little one-shot. I had the time to finish one thing this week and wanted to show Steve some love since it’s been awhile. I’m in a mood to smother him in fluff, so here we go.

The Perfect Fit

You came skidding to a halt in the communal kitchen, a sweaty t-shirt in your hand, and a hooting crow on your lips. "I knew it! I knew it!"

Surprisingly, several members of the team were still there. Bucky and Sam were plowing through a massive pile of eggs and bacon while Natasha and Wanda delicately spooned up the oatmeal and berries porridge Vision had made with Wanda's supervision. Delighted to have such an audience, you held up your prize.

"Size small! He wears size fucking small t-shirts!" You were shaking the t-shirt in your fist, your voice strident with mock insult but wobbling with repressed laughter. "I fucking told you guys!"

Natasha stood up. "Let me see." She held her hand out for the shirt, then, sneering at the sweat, took it between the fingernails of her thumb and forefinger. Looking at the label printed on the inside of the shirt, she raised a brow. "Nonsense," she scoffed. She had been sure he wore at least a medium. Her eyes met yours, and the amused exasperation there matched how you felt exactly. Medium could be explained.

Small was simply gratuitous.

"Doll," Bucky started as Natasha delicately handed the shirt back to you and returned to her oatmeal, "so he wears small shirts. What's your point?"

"Yeah, doll," said an unamused voice behind you, "what is your point?"

On the premise that a good defense is a good offense, you spun around to shake the shirt in Steve's face. His hair was wet and slicked back from his face, evidence he'd hopped out of the shower to chase you down when you stole the t-shirt from the locker room after his morning workout.

Unfortunately for you, he was also wearing nothing but the gray sweats he’d hurriedly tugged on, leaving you even more distracted by Steve's chest than usual. Normally you at least had a size small t-shirt between your eyes and all… that… muscle. Your fingertips itched to touch, which is why size small offended you so much.

The least he could do is not be so fucking tempting all the damn time.

“Size small, my ass! You’re the size of a semi-truck!” You went on the attack, trying to make it about the fact that he wore ridiculously small shirts considering his size. Hell, it was like he picked everything he wore based on how much his chest stretched the fabric.

You shot Bucky a vicious look when he called out, "Yeah, but why do you care?"

"I'm not saying I do," you retorted haughtily. "I just wanted to prove that Cap wears a size small even though that's insane. Why he does so is up for debate."

"So, what's your theory, beautiful?" Sam asked, a smirk pulling the corner of his mouth up in pure merriment. He was hopeful that if he and Bucky pushed you in the right way you'd finally give up and admit to Steve you had a thing for him. If you did that, maybe they could push Steve into admitting he had an almost painful crush on you. And then maybe the rest of them could stop walking through the mutual pining clouds.

You scanned Steve's chest, trying and failing to keep your gaze from heating. Even Steve couldn't miss the pure sexual appreciation that raked his body along with your eyes. His heart picked up at the thought that maybe you were more receptive than he'd thought.

You'd always been playful, but carefully detached. You were never unfriendly, but you always remained carefully separate. He was beginning to wonder, based on the speed of your heart as your eyes roved over his chest, if your aloof demeanor hid a secret.

"I think he's showing off," you laughed. You winked and tossed the shirt back to him. "And who can blame him?"

The last thing you saw before you sauntered out, figuring there was no way you were going to get a better exit line, was Steve's blushingly pleased smile.

Much, much later, well into the evening, you sat reading in the library. The stereo was on low, as were the lights but for the reading lamp over your shoulder. You were staring at the page, but you weren't really seeing it, too focused on the memory of Steve's smile that morning. Could he see that it was more than just harmless flirting? Could he tell that it was more for you? If he could, did he like it?

Should you ask? Or leave it be? If Steve was interested, he was more than capable of making a move. You’d always kept a deliberate platonic barrier between yourself and your colleagues, however, wary of mixing the personal and professional. Should you make it clear you’d be receptive? Were you receptive? Were you making an exception in this case? It was Steve, after all. Sweet, kind, amazing Steve. Wouldn’t anyone make an exception for him?

The sound of the door opening and closing as someone came into the room had goosebumps inexplicably running over your skin. You scolded yourself that it could be anyone, that just because your unruly heart was jumping up and down didn't mean Steve had come in. Even if it was Steve, that didn’t mean he was looking for you.

"There you are." Steve's voice, warm and friendly, had you melting like chocolate on the tongue. He sounded happy to see you and had you beaming a welcoming smile back as you looked up from your book.

"Here I am," you flirted, your smile taking on a hint of the coquette as he came further into the room. Fuck it; you were making an exception.

His cheeks went pink. It was the cutest fucking thing you'd ever seen. Big frat-bro looking men like this shouldn't be so bashful and blushy. It wasn't fucking fair. "Is it okay if I join you?" he asked gently, as though there was a universe in which you were capable of saying no.

"Of course," you said incredulously, grinning at him. Still pink and smiling, he settled onto the couch next to you.

"I wanted to tell you the real reason I have so many small shirts."

You felt a rush of chagrin at the thought that you might have hurt his feelings. You’d been teasing, flirting, and hated the idea that you may have inadvertently caused pain. Without thinking, you reached out to touch his knee with an apologetic smile.

“I’m so sorry if you thought I was complaining.” You chuckled a little and opted to flirt more overtly than was your usual so he’d could see you’d meant the whole thing as a joke. “‘Have you seen how good I look in size small t-shirts?' is more than enough reason for me, Steve.”

Steve looked down at your hand on his knee; the warmth seeming to seep into his skin. He practically lived for the accidental brush of your skin against his; your deliberate touch made his heart race. Which is why, when your gaze followed his and you started to pull away, he couldn’t stop his own hand from coming up to cover yours and stop your retreat.

Your breath caught and your eyes lifted to his adorably pink face. He looked both embarrassed and terrified as he smiled, a little weakly, at you. Your heart pounding like a drum, you threw caution to the winds and smiled fully at him as you turned your hand in his until you were palm to palm with him.

The smile that lit up his face in response nearly blinded you. "Still," he said, his face turning shy as he looked down at his hand closing gently around yours, "it's because I'm terrified of department stores."

You frowned a little in confusion. “Why?” You ducked your head a little to try and catch his eye.

Steve couldn’t resist the sweet expression on your face, couldn’t help but smile shyly into your eyes when you squeezed his hand gently.

“They're so complicated,” he confessed, a little ashamed. You could hear the genuine anxiety in his voice and you almost sighed as you melted. “There’s so much stuff and a lot of it doesn't make sense.”

Steve kept going, not noticing that the pink staining his perfect cheeks, the shy, sweet curve to his lips, the bashful, embarrassed dip to his eyelids was absolutely destroying you. Now that he was telling someone, he couldn’t stop, the words tumbling out.

“I just grab whatever looks closest to what I need and escape.” He shrugged, a lost look in his eyes as he imagined it. "I grab small because for a lot of my life, even the smallest stuff was too big. I'm in panic mode, so I don't think, I just grab and go."

"Oh my god," you muttered, practically losing your mind at how unbelievably fucking cute he was. You could barely resist Steve as it was; this sweet, lost softness was demolishing what little resistance you still possessed. It was taking everything you had to not crawl into his lap. "How are you this…" You trailed off, not able to articulate how much you adored him in this moment.

Steve thought for a moment that you were disgusted with him and the sick feeling that caused in his stomach only intensified when you pulled your hand out from under his. He existed in an endless moment of torment until your hands came up to cup his face. His eyes lifted and caught yours and in the next moment he was drowning in the affection he found there.

"…perfect." Your voice was breath of devotion. Something about his vulnerability made you feel like you could be vulnerable back and you heard yourself saying, your voice an ache of sound, "Steve, is it okay if I kiss you?"

Steve couldn’t understand, lost and confused by your sudden overt adoration. "Why?"

Your eyebrows lifted both at the question and at the look of surprise on Steve's face. Apparently, you weren't the only one not thinking before you spoke this evening. It gave you even more courage. "Because I've wanted to almost since I met you and I can't keep my mouth shut about it anymore."

The next moment Steve’s lips were on yours and you were sighing giddily into his mouth as your arms slid gently around his neck and his came around your waist. He had you folded close almost immediately, delighted with both your answer and the feel of your body against his. Your last resistance had crumbled, and you'd slid into his lap as you'd pulled yourself close to him.

"Y/n," he chuckled gently when you pulled your lips from his to brush them all over his sweet face, "I would love for you to kiss me."

You heard yourself giggle and if his smile had been less cheerful, you would have been embarrassed to hear yourself make such a noise. Steve looked overjoyed, however, at being the inspiration for such a happy sound bubbling out of you and you couldn't resent or regret it.

You also couldn't resist his eyes when the sadness lifted, when he was looking at you with the lightness of the young man he was never allowed to be. You'd had a girly crush on him for what felt like forever, and the sight of his happiness, because of you, left you reeling. You decided not to question your good fortune, opting instead to take him at his word. Your lips met his and you sank into his kiss with a hum.

Steve couldn't have been happier with the direction this conversation had gone. He’d meant merely to take an opportunity to talk to you, put your relationship on a more friendly footing by sharing a part of himself with you. He'd never expected to reap this kind of reward.

Your world narrowed to Steve, and in his solid yet gentle arms you found a soft and generous place where nothing existed but the two of you. His lips tenderly coaxed yours apart until his tongue was sweeping in and you were tasting the honey sweetness and cinnamon spice of his mouth. Soft plump lips gave enough to leave you obsessed almost immediately. If you’d known kissing Steve would be like this, you’d never have waited this long.

Sweetness held sway as your lips and tongues tangled together. Almost innocently, his hands moved from your back, one down to your hip to squeeze tight and pull you close, the other up to cup to the back of your neck.

Your arms were tight around his neck, your hands buried in thick blond hair. For a long, beautiful moment you simply caressed his lips with your own, tasting his mouth, breathing his breath, bright and joyous.

All too soon, your hands started to clench with heat rather than only warmth, his soft hair tempting you to use it for leverage to tilt his head for a deeper, hotter angle. His hand at your hip was gripping and releasing as he pulled you closer to his chest. His arms tightened as innocent affection heated until he was hard as iron beneath you.

You pulled back to look at Steve and the expression there took your breath away. Flushed and pretty, his lips were swollen from yours and parted to let gasps of excitement escape. His bright blue eyes were shining with both desire and affection and had you feeling like you were falling in to drown. You nuzzled your mouth and nose against his as you shifted and breathed, “Steve?”

“Yeah?” he breathed back, his eyes fluttering at the feel of your ass rubbing against his erection as you shifted in his lap. You couldn't help yourself; you found him both sweet as sugar and so sexy you were having to stop yourself from ripping his too tight shirt off.

"Should I ever" --you stopped to brush your lips over his pretty pink cheek-- "suspect that" --you kissed his other cheek-- "you are wearing" --his left eyelid-- "any size shirt” --his right eyelid-- "other than small" --the right corner of his mouth-- "I will sneak into your room" --the left corner of his mouth-- "remove the offending garment…"

Now that you were at his mouth, you couldn't resist it and you trailed off to sink in again with another hum of enjoyment. After another long, even more heated kiss that had you wondering how he'd respond if you invited him back to your rooms, you broke the kiss gently to finish in a whisper against his lips, "…and replace it with one of the proper size. Clear?"

Steve's smile spread, slow and wickedly sexy. "Yes, ma'am." He took your lower lip between his teeth and purred in his throat. You were astonished to find you could actually feel yourself clench in excitement at the sound. "You don't need to sneak, though," he murmured against your mouth, his voice both an ache and a temptation. "You're always welcome."

Steve was nearly blinded by your smile, and his mind nearly blanked by the slow roll of your hips, when you replied, breathless, “Is tonight too soon?”

Steve could barely believe that his inability to shop could lead to this. He'd been pining away for you, certain he'd only make you uncomfortable should he confess his feelings. To hear you offer him all he'd wanted, just that simple, made his heart race.

“I don’t know,” he replied, and the dimming of your smile had him kissing you quickly and grinning into your face to show you he was teasing. “If I say yes, you’ll discover my secret right away.”

Now that you knew he was flirting rather than rejecting, you teased back, your fingers combing through his hair, fingernails dragging gently over his scalp. “I love secrets,” you breathed into his ear. “Do tell.”

Steve’s eyes were rolling back in his head as his hand slid up and down the outside of your thigh, the heat of his palm seeping easily through the denim into your skin, setting it aflame. He adored the tingling pleasure of your hands in his hair, the shivers from your breath on his skin.

“I have plenty of shirts that fit,” he confessed, his voice low and tight with lust. You were rocking your body seductively against him as your grin spread. “Thanks to Nat, because I really am hopeless in department stores.” You narrowed your eyes in amused suspicion when he shrugged sheepishly. “I only wear the small stuff around you.”

You sat back, a little surprised, but utterly charmed, both by the confession and the sweet pink all over his face as he made it. “You wanna wear me?” The words were out of your mouth before you could think better of it, though when you could you wanted to take back the crude phrasing rather than the sentiment.

Not that it mattered when Steve’s arms were sliding under you as his jaw clenched, the muscle in his cheek jumping and inexplicably making your underwear wet. He stood in a burst of motion, carrying you quickly toward the door.

“Your bed or mine?” he growled, and the relief had you fastening your mouth at his neck to taste the salt of his skin. Your arms were tight around his shoulders, one hand in his hair, the other with your fingertips caressing the soft skin in the hollow of his throat.

You answered against his skin, your voice a rasping ache, “Against the wall for all I care." Steve shuddered and burst into the next thing to a run when your voice breathed the words he’d never thought to hear but ached for, nonetheless. “Steve,” you whispered, “I just want you.”

Now that he was hearing them, nothing could stand in his way.

A gloriously long time later, Steve lay on his back in his bed, staring at the ceiling with a decidedly smug grin on his face. His big warm palm was smoothing up and down your spine and if you were still solid, it’d be melting you. As it was, his lovemaking had left you boneless and satisfied. You were cheerfully draped across the bare chest that had so obsessed you.

You lifted your head to smile into Steve’s pretty face. “Perfect fit.”

The End

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itsmylife--dontyouforget · 4 years

Text

I need answers...

I saw your name again in old going through old Messenger chat, I decided to click and reread them even though I already know what's in. My questioning, a clumsy questioning, as if nothing was wrong with me that night. I explained you that I had a "little" blackout, knowing very well that I don't remember anything from 9pm to the time I woke up... This awakening, which still haunts me in my subconscious, I remember hearing an alarm ringing, opening my eyes and not knowing where I am... starting to panic inside, where am I? What happened? I lift the sheets, I'm naked, on the floor a wrapper... and then you ask me “how are you” and you tell me we had a great evening... An evening that I only remember the beginning: our discussions about travel, culture, advice for my studies, I drink your words as I always have, you have always been good advice since we have known each other, you were the big brother I never had...

An evening that was just a friends dinner in a restaurant, nothing exceptional, an evening during which I only drank one beer except for the shot of tequila before entering the restaurant, a bottle that you had brought back as a souvenir of the good old days.

Here we are back to that famous morning, when I locked myself in the bathroom of this hotel, I remember taking a shower, getting dressed, gathering my things quickly and ordering an Uber. My brain just went on autopilot, I don't remember the passed time between the hotel and my home, I just remember coming home and taking a shower and getting ready quickly for work and pretending nothing happened.

I called L. and asked him to come with me to the pharmacy to buy a morning-after pill just in case. I didn't really explain the situation to him, I have just told him to not ask any questions.

Then, that same day, my college girlfriend called me, my double, the one without whom the group work and classes would have been nothing but long sessions of torture. I summarize the situation by telling her that I have a blackout and that I woke up in a hotel room without knowing how I ended up here. She jokingly replied that I'd better stop drinking and partying. She laughs. The following year in class, she brings back the subject in a funny way, saying that anyway, I'm such a party girl and I drink so much that I wake up in a hotel room with strangers. These words, at this very moment, made me understand that the fault was mine, and what was supposed to happen happened. It was my friend, I must have done something wrong....

I was 21 years old, I went out to dinner with a friend on a weeknight, an older friend who was engaged.

It was by reading many testimonies that I managed to put a word about what had happened and that I discovered the phenomenon of sideration and traumatic amnesia. Our brain, that overpowering tool that knows how to put itself on automatic pilot. My brain just decided to suppress that moment and the following day, a banal day where I pretended nothing happened...

Coming back to that discussion, I had almost forgotten that you came back to me a year later to tell me that “you were sorry and you still didn't understand my reaction, that I am a great girl and that you missed me as a friend.” At that time, I didn't dig any deeper.

Two months after that night I wanted to reclaim my life and somehow my body. I broke a few hearts in the process. The chicks team was born, they made me understand that my detached behaviour with regard to what happened was not normal and that it might be good to talk to a professional about it. Which of course I didn't do.

Then comes the period of self-loathing, followed by long introspection and memories coming back to the surface.

Like the year I turned 18, when I was dating G. he took me into the bedroom during a party at our house, when I was drunk and couldn't even undress myself, it wasn't love either, nor was it envy, but rape.

The following summer, with this boy I met at my workplace, a super nice client with whom I spent the beginning of the summer as a friend. One day after he drove me home, as usual, he asked me if he could charge his phone for 5min for the gps, I accepted. He tried to kiss me : I pushed him away, he tried again and started touching me, I told him no several times and I managed to force him out. He left and sent me a message telling me “what a great person I was and that he loved our time together, that he apologised for getting carried away but I had to understand that it was because I was "hot" ”. I blocked him, he came to my workplace several times. The start of the academic year is coming up and I find myself crossing into him at the library and university restaurant constantly looking at me and smiling at me...

It has taken me a long time to regain confidence and re-dating, a little over a year.

Then I met someone in the corridors of college, an angel...at first sight. It turns out he is violent as soon as he drinks. We were having a party with some of my college friends as part of a project, he came over and freaked out, spilled a drink on my girlfriend, hit a guy who was dancing with me and my friends and knocked the performer off the stage. The guards had to throw him out; he was waiting for me, furious, calling me non-stop. I started to get paranoid at night and always watch my back.

I had time to look back and think about those situations that were obviously "not normal" and not acceptable.

Situations that I wasn't aware of how there were impacting and affecting my relationships. What I thought I had forgotten came to the surface, first with the words of R., who, I quote, "forced himself to sleep with me". Then comes the break-up, I decide to embrace my single life and go out again, always followed by that shadow. This summer, on the beach, M. who stent above me to kiss me, I started to panic...then N. this feeling of déjà vu and anxiety at the contact of his body on mine. These flashes, real or imaginary, that my brain sends to trick me.

All this to get back to the beginning of the story, I want answers. To find this missing piece of the puzzle, even if it is impossible. Part of me stayed in that hotel room.

I'm often told that it's complicated to know what I really think and that I'm constantly chasing guys. Making me understand that I am an easy girl and that I have to be careful because one day bad things will happen. Saying me that I didn’t seem to realize it and that the world isn't all rosy. I already know that, I have chosen to live the moment and not feel sorry for myself.

I have the life I dream of!

That’s why I just keep my thoughts for myself, I don't talk about this event. I don't want people to feel sorry for me or to change the way others look at me. Sometimes my mind gets foggy, and lately we all have time to think, maybe a little too much.

#true story #story to tell #testimony #abusive relationship #toxic relationship #rape #rape survivor #metoo

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