#he trying to steal my milk that asshat | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

specialmindz · 4 years ago

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“Mmm *POMP!* this some good milk, Snas,” said Papyrus, shuffling around in his brother’s makeshift backpack. It wasn’t very comfortable, but as long as he didn’t have to crawl…

“eh, i prefer hot chocolate myself,” replied Sans. “glad you like your milk baby bro, i was worried about how it’d do in the microwave cause’ of all the chemicals, but you’re not dead yet so…”

“Daddy say is okay to put mah super milk in da’ mikeywave…or is I baby guinea pig?” Papyrus narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“guinea pigs are cute pap!”

“…”

Sans blew on his hot chocolate for what seemed like the sixth time. He didn’t put his drink in the microwave like Papyrus’s, he preferred to use boiled water as the cold weather of Snowdin usually cooled it off without him having to do anything.

Today though, they weren’t going to Snowdin, plans had changed.

Alphys had always had a messy workspace, but the Nursery, according to her, was in worse shape. FAR worse shape. She didn’t mind the broken toys scattered everywhere seeing as it wasn’t her room, but the fact that the toys came from the Dump meant they smelled terrible. Sans and the rest of the family were either nose-blind to it, or simply didn’t care, but Alphys couldn’t stand it. She complained weekly about the stench, claiming it was getting worse and worse, seeping from underneath the Nursery door and distracting her from work, but no one would do anything about it.

Today, SHE took the initiative and decided to spray the Nursery with every air freshener they had, making it impossible and even dangerous to sleep in the room; that meant that not only did they have to find a new place to sleep, but Baby Papyrus also missed his nap.

Not good.

“You an idiot,” mumbled the cranky infant, unhappy to be a baby guinea pig.

“whatever.”

“Lazy idiot stink head with stupid broke gloves…”

“heh ha! they’re not broke pappy, that’s how they’re SUPPOSED to look. these are fingerless gloves,” explained Sans, hoping to laugh away his irritation. Papyrus wasn’t having it though.

“Your gloves dumb like you.”

“they’re not dumb! i think they make me look cool…”

“They make you look homeless. I half aspect you to be shaking a tin can around, asking for monies.”

“Screw you, Papyrus.”

“Is I your bindle, big Buther? You’s supposed to carry me on a stick…”

“SHUT UP, PAPYRUS.”

“Can you do da’ har-mon-ica? Pay a song for the baby.”

The young comedian quickened his pace towards the Resort Area. “i’ll pay you a beating, you keep mouthing off,” mumbled Sans under his breath.

“Ooooh, Buther think he tough now cause’ he gots biker gloves! Nyeh heh heh, what gang you from, Snas? Pussies of Anarchy? Renegade Rejects?”

San didn’t reply, he merely pushed open the doors of the Resort and went inside, not wanting to travel all the way to Snowdin’s hotel or teleport whilst carrying his brother in a bag rather than his arms. He knew for a fact that anything touching his body would travel with him, but what about the things that weren’t? Or the things he wasn’t holding on to purposely?

It’s not like I’ve ever lost anything in my pockets when I take my shortcuts, but I still don’t feel comfortable with something so precious in such a flimsy bag…

“Harlem’s Asshats?”

Hm…maybe “precious” isn’t the right word to use for Pap.

Sans grimaced as Papyrus continued to complain and come up with more insulting gang names. He himself was a complainer when HE didn’t get enough sleep, but Papyrus?

“Big-butted Bums of Bloomington!”

His brother REALLY sucked when he missed his nap. He was loud, angry, and mean. Babies weren’t supposed to miss their daily naps and baby bones already had hot tempers to begin with…

TA-TAP, TA-TAP!

The Receptionist, a monster with a giant hand in place of her head, tapped her red painted nails on the counter impatiently, a strange sight for those who weren’t used to seeing it. “Do you need a room you two?”

TA-TAP, TA-TAP!

“No, I needs a doctor cause’ Snas give me irradiated milk!” Papyrus tried to point his finger accusingly at his brother, but found it next to impossible in his current position, so instead he threw his bottle on the ground.

“NYEH!”

CAP, CAP!

It bounced along the tile floor, empty despite his whining, and rolled to a stop before a janitor, who kindly picked it up. “Ah-hawww, looks like you’ve got a fussy baby on your hands!” chuckled the employee, returning the bottle.

CAP, CAP, CAP!

“HAHAHAHA!”

“PAPYRUS! i’m so sorry sir-”

“Oh, don’t be, it’s what I get paid for after all! It’s best you get that little guy to bed though…”

“NOT TIRED!”

Sans took the bottle from the janitor and put it in his pocket. Even if his brother were telling the truth, he knew the Lying Font was still going to ACT tired, and a tired baby was a cranky baby. For Papyrus, a missed nap was all the excuse in the world to be a douche, and Sans would rather fork over 400g then listen to his crap.

Lucky for us, children get discounts.

TA-TAP, TA-TAP!

“STOP HEADBUTTING DA’ TABLE NAIL LADY! IF AZZY NOT ALLOWED TO, YOU NOT ALLOWED TO!”

“E-excuse me?”

“just ignore him, miss-”

“When Azzy be small like me, he used to headbutt the desk. You not remember Nail-Lady? You was all like, ‘STOP ATTACKING THE DESK GOAT-BABY!’ and Moo-Mom say, ‘HOW DARE YOU YELL AT MAH BABY LIKE DAT!?’ and then Fluffy Buns say ‘settle down now ladies, is not that serious,” said Papyrus, voice acting each line. He’d been doing that a lot as of late, trying to “perfect his mimicry for when he got big” and by extension, he ended up disturbing those unfortunate enough to hear him. Asgore’s loud booming voice coming from such a small baby was…eerie…and it was even worse when he decided to imitate Sans...

The receptionist doesn’t have a face, but I bet she’s as uncomfortable as I am right now.

…

How do I get bro to stop talking though?

“…Then you got all mad Nail-Lady and say ‘HE DO DIS ERYTIME HE HERE! WHY YOU CAN’T CONTROL YO’ KID? ERYBODY ELSE CONTROL THEIR KID! YOU THINK JUST CAUSE’ YOU THE KING YOU CAN DESTROY? NOT ERYBODY WICH LIKE YOU!”

“…I actually DO remember,” said the receptionist. “Someone, who used to do that. Yes…there was a small child with an entitled mother who used to headbutt and jump atop the furniture…”

Who was that?

“Yep! I’s there too with Chara, so I knows! You and the Moo Lady used to argue about discounts-”

“Oh my goodness, you’re right!” the woman suddenly remembered. “There was a woman who claimed she should only have to pay the regular 400g because you weren’t her child and THEN she got upset when I AGREED and asked you for 200g-”

“HOW YOU GONNA ASK A BABY FOR MONIES? BABIES SHOULD GET IN FREE! YOU DOESN’T EVEN GOTS CWIBS!”

“That’s EXACTLY how it went, every single time. It was always the same argument.” The monster, who prided herself on her professionalism, could feel herself getting angry all over again, her old forgotten hatred bubbling to the surface. She couldn’t stand the Royal Family. The Entitled Mother, the Spinless Husband, the Destructive Child…and if she recalled, the human they adopted was an actual thief…

“Yep, and Chara was all like ‘don’t be a bitch, bitch’ and da’ Cow Lady say ‘I agwees, but I doesn’t ah-pea-ciate yo’ language my child,’ and Chara go ‘I was talking to youuuu-”

“hey pap-”

“Fluffy Buns smacked them right on the butt! It was funny.”

“Yes…Chara was their name…the thieving human who kept getting in trouble with security. They would go into other people’s rooms and take their things like it was okay and the mother-”

“She say, ‘Oh Chara just curious, you should be more patient wit yo’ customers! Da’ world of monsters be new to them ya’ know? They just a child…!”

“…”

Sans didn’t know how she was doing it, but he could have sworn he heard growling coming from the woman’s direction.

“ha ha…hey uh, bro? let’s just get us a room already, yeah? i’m sure the receptionist here is busy-”

“TWO WOOMS PEAS!” yelled the infant. “One for the baby and one for the Pussy of Anarchy.”

��damnit pap…!”

“Very well, that’ll be 400g then.”

Glaring over his shoulder, Sans forked over the money and headed to their room. “now bro, there are other people in this resort so try not to be a dick, alright? we need to be quiet-”

“WAIT SNAS!” the baby bones picked himself up out of the bag with his wingdings. “I gots to visit the fountain real quick.”

“Oh uh, please don’t urinate in the fountain,” said the receptionist raising a finger. “The rooms have toilets in them.”

“I’s not a gross peepee-baby Nail-Lady, don’t you know a cute widdle skelly when you sees one? I’s looking for coins-”

“Absolutely not!” cried the woman, her tone taking a sudden turn. “This fountain is a memorial to…someone. It is strictly forbidden to gather the coins within, read the sign!” The monster pointed at a sign that said “Stay Out of the Fountain.” Apparently, people were so desperate, they were stealing G from the memorial…

“I NEEDS EM’ TO PAY SNAS BACK!” yelled Papyrus, wondering how much 200g was.

“READ. THE. SIGN. THAT IS UNACCEPTABLE!” she replied, shouting just as loud. Clearly theft was a daily problem for her.

“heh heh, you don’t need to pay me back lil’ bro, thanks though.”

That was…unexpectedly sweet.

“I’s not a deadbeat big Buther…also, I can’t reads so dat sign don’t apply to me.”

“THAT’S NOT HOW THAT WORKS!”

“you do too know how to read, quit your lying pap,” said Sans chuckling.

“I’s not lying, I’s a baby and babies don’t read. Erybody knows that! Isn’t that right Nail- Lady?”

“I just told you what it said, get away from that fountain!”

“Babies also have poor memor-ies. I doesn’t remember what you said,” Papyrus used his wingdings to scoop up a handful of coins and deposited them into his onesie to count later. “I’s very sorry for da’ inco-venience.”

“PUT THOSE BACK OR I’LL HAVE TO ASK YOU TWO TO LEAVE!”

“uh, okay pappy this is getting serious, let’s just put the pretty coins back like the nice lady said…”

“Is serious? THEN WE SERIOUSLY WANT OUR MONIES BACK,” said Papyrus, angrily. Here he was being a good bae, paying back his big brother, (something babies did NOT have to do) and this big person wanted to yell at him?

CLEARLY, she was a baby-hater and didn’t deserve to have such cute guests staying at her gaudy hotel.

“We take back our monies and we go somewhere that ah-pea-ciates sweet babies such as ourselves. Your hotel ugly anyway…too bright, right Snas? We leave.”

“no no no, we don’t need to do that!” said Sans quickly in a panic.

“FINE, TAKE IT AND GO!”

WHAP!

The receptionist slammed the money down on the counter.

I’m so sick of serving thieves…

“wha-ho, lady! let’s just calm down alright? *sigh* geeze…” Sans scratched behind his skull. “why don’t we come to a compromise? that sound good?”

I CAN’T take Pappy to that inn in Snowdin again, I didn’t sleep at all last time!

The comedian winced, remembering the night he spent there with Papyrus. The infant didn’t like the snoring from the other guests in the room.

“Nyeh? Com-per-mize…? Waz dat?”

“it’s a negotiation,” explained Sans. “where arguing people get a little bit of what they want, so everyone’s happy…ish.”

TA-TAP! TA-TAP!

“Okay Snas, I do da’ com-per-mize cause’ I’s a good bae,” said Papyrus sweetly. Seemed he was done acting cranky for the day…or so Sans hoped.

“good boy, pappy! GOOD babies compromise allll the time.”

“No they don’t, but Imma make an ah-ception cause’ I doesn’t like the snoring baes in Snowdin. Remember them Snas? The snoring bunny baes?”

“heh heh, yep, iiiii remember.”

“You can’t tell a sweepy baby to shut the fuk up, cause’ they just babies, so we get no sweep and the Inn lady get all our monies for fee! Is a scam, I KNOWS it!”

“Put the coins back please,” said the receptionist, no longer interested in Papyrus’s stories.

“Kay’. Papyrus picked himself up out of the fountain and waddled over to the counter, his onesie jiggling with coins and leaving a wet trail behind him. I gots a good idea for a com-per-mize Nail-Lady.”

“I thought you were going to put the coins back?”

“Slow yo’ roll woman, we makes a commerize first-”

“compromise’ bro.”

Papyrus ignored him. “I’ll put the coins back like you say…and in return for being a good baby bones, I gets a fee room, kay’? Dat sound like a good commercialize?”

“…No.”

“*pfft!* papyrus-”

“Why not Nail-Lady? It solve both our problems, yes? Why you so unreason-able?”

The receptionist sighed and hung her head, her energy for the day having been completely drained.

I forgot how terrible this infant was, all he does is talk and make things worse. Why is he even here? Doesn’t he have a mother and father to go home to?

Ugh, he’s still going...

“…Good babies get rewards Nail-Lady, is the law. Dat’s how we learns to be good people’s ya’ know? I do something good…then I gets a reward, then I be good again to get another reward. You see where I’s going with dis?”

“There’s a difference between a reward and a bribe, child-”

“I’s not a child, I’s a baby! How you gonna learn if you no listen? BIG people’s get bribes, BABIES get rewards-”

“bro, stop, it’s okay,” said Sans picking up his brother. “i’ll pay your way and if you really want to return the debt, you can pay me back with your OWN mon-”

“Except ugly babies like Snas, they get nothing.”

“…you know what? nevermind, you can sleep out here like the bum you’re destined to be." He put Papyrus back down.

“I can join your gang…?”

“no, we’re full.”

“Bums of Bloomington full?”

“yyyep.”

“Kick someone out.”

CA-CLACK!

The receptionist pressed the security button underneath her desk.

“why should i? you don’t have biker gloves and you’re mean.”

“Baby not mean! Also, I’s family and family comes first. Kick someone out.”

“no.”

CLANK, CLANK, CLANK!

The two boys stopped fighting and grew silent as a giant knight in black armor approached the counter.

“*Yawn* ………Is there a problem ma’am?”

“Yes, there is,” replied the receptionist. “That baby is stealing from the fountain…and apparently the other one is in a gang-”

“what? no i’m not! papyrus is lying!”

“Nope, is true all right. My big Buther a rebel! He drive his motorcycle around at night when is bedtime.”

“no i don’t, shut up papyrus!”

“……...Is this true?”

Sans gave the knight an irritated look, “why don’t you tell me? why don’t you tell me where i can ride a motorbike without filling the underground with carbon dioxide? why don’t you tell me where i can get one whose pedals i can even reach? where i can get one PERIOD-”

“……...You don’t need to be a smartass.”

“…”

“………Please return the coins.”

“…”

“Why you gots so many ellipses in yo’ text Knight-Lady? You sweepy too?” The baby bones crawled over to the sleepy giant and gave her the coins in his onesie. “Here you go Heavy-Lady, now you can affords to sweep like us!”

“that’s very sweet, pappy-”

Papyrus turned to the receptionist, “NOW baby gets a fee room?”

“*sigh*”

Damnit bro…

“…No.”

“Nyeh? Why not? I WAS GOOD, GOD DAMNS IT!”

“Get out.”

“NYEHHHHAAAAHHHH!!”

“papyrus, you don’t need to scream-”

KA-CHUR-GERGERGER!

Taking out a coin pouch, the knight poured some G onto the receptionist’s counter, “…400g right?”

“You don’t have to do that Knight Knight-”

“Yes, I do,” replied the armored monster, handing over the coins Papyrus gave her. “It’s a knight’s duty to help those in need…and we live in times where money is scarce…” She looked down at the skeletal children. “…Remember these words well…following the rules may make others happy and keep the peace, but if it comes at the cost of your or another person’s survival…ignore them.”

“…”

And with that, Knight Knight walked back to her post, leaving the receptionist alone with the two brothers.

The hand monster wasn’t angry anymore, in fact, she felt a bit guilty and embarrassed over her previous behavior. It was true that the coins in the fountain were people’s wishes…and it was part of her job to make sure people treated those wishes and the memorial with respect, but when looking at the big picture and thinking about WHY so many thieves were running about, well, it was clear who the bad guy was.

“I apologize for my previous behavior,” said the receptionist bowing low. “I’d forgotten that rules were made to help others, not act as bait for the desperate. There’s no point in a memorial if there’s no one left to honor it.”

How many people have starved to death for my job?

She winced and shook her head in an attempt to rid herself of such thoughts. What was done was done, all she could do now was change so it never happened again.

“Is okay Nail-Lady!” said Papyrus petting her back with his wingdings, “It’s your intentions dat count, not what you do.”

“that’s true. as long as you’re at least TRYING to do the right thing, you’re still a good person. mistakes are mistakes, ya’ know? you shouldn’t be punished for something you didn’t MEAN to do, ain’t that right pap?”

“Daz right big Buther! Now give us da’ key.”

“say please.”

“No.”

The woman handed the baby bones, who had taken the liberty of climbing onto the counter, the key to their room. “Please enjoy your stay.”

“YAAAASS! C’MON SNAS, IS TIME FOR YO’ NAP!”

“you mean it’s time for OUR nap, pappy.”

“NOT TIRED!”

As the boys headed to their room, the receptionist left her post and walked towards the fountain, removing the sign.

It was never put up again.

#Fonttale #Fonttale au #undertale fanart #Undertale #undertale au #Papyrus #Sans #Baby Papyrus #Kid sans #Undertale fanfiction

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youngbounty · 4 years ago

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When it comes to Turnabout Big Top, I feel alone with this one. Not only did I love and enjoy Turnabout Big Top, but I consider it my favorite case in Justice For All. I’m not going to say it didn’t have its flaws, but I had so much fun playing it and even the story itself was something to behold. I read blogs and watched videos from those that did like this case, including NicoB, but I’m going to express my love for this case.

Before I start my praises, I will get what I didn’t like about it out of the way: the investigations were a pain in the ass, the cape flying thing didn’t make any sense, Moe was annoying as hell and, even though this was made in Japan, the love triangle thing went way too far. Since there is so much hate for this case, I think everyone pretty knows the reasons why I didn’t like these. So, I will just leave it at that. Now, to express my love for Turnabout Big Top.

Let’s start with the characters. Aside from Moe, I absolutely love the characters. Max and Ben were the only okay characters. I liked how, even despite Max being completely full of himself, means well in what he does. You can tell that, even though he thinks he’s the best in the circus, he has a reason to believe that and is trying to help everyone become as successful as him in his own way. Ben is very awkward, which is why I absolutely love Trilo. He’s the one that steals the show, especially during his testimony. He is an asshat, but he’s the likable asshat you love to hate. Regina is absolutely adorable. You can see that she’s always bright and trying to make everyone’s lives better. It makes sense why Max feels so connected to Regina more than the other circus members. She’s completely devoted in her abilities and knows that, when it comes to performing and bringing the wow in the audience, you go big or go home. Her passion comes from putting smiles in everyone’s faces. Even when tragedy hits, she tries to see the bright side to the situation. Acro is someone, who is patient, kind and wants to see the best in everyone. His only downfall was allowing his grief control his better judgement, though the same can be said for Regina.

The entire circus as a whole, even Moe, are a family and it’s clear from the way they treat each other. Sure, they may get annoyed or downright jealous of each other, but they still love and care for one another. It is when the entire circus begins recognizing Max’s innocence that they gift him with cartons of milk. At the end of the day, they’re still family and always have been. The fact you have unlikable characters like Moe and maybe Trilo shows that no one is likable. They can be annoying, jerks or downright stupid at times. But, when push comes to shove, they have each other’s backs. Just take away the awkward love triangle and you have a very excitable bunch that can be a roller coaster of ups and downs.

Having a circus like this with a murder case like this is a great parallel to the overarching conflict to Justice For All. During this game, Miles Edgeworth had left a note declaring his death before disappearing without a trace. Both Phoenix Wright and Franziska Von Karma are grieved by this. Phoenix Wright deals with this grief through anger and blaming Franziska and her father for their corrupt beliefs leading Miles Edgeworth down a suicidal path. He also is angry at Miles Edgeworth for being a coward and giving up on life. Franziska also deals with her own grief through anger and blaming Phoenix for defeating Miles Edgeworth, claiming that to be the reason he left the suicide note. Like Phoenix, she is also angry at Miles Edgeworth for being a coward and giving up on everything he worked for, considering how much she looked up to him. Just like Phoenix and Franziska, Regina and Acro deal with their grief for Bat’s tragedy through emotion: happiness. Regina uses her happiness to deal with her grief like how Phoenix uses his anger to deal with his own grief. The same can apply to Acro. Like Franziska, Acro blames Regina for his brother’s accident and takes all his grief out on her. He knows that they were very close, perhaps even had puppy dog crushes on each other, but still allowed his grief to swell and took it all out on the very person his little brother cared about the most. The same can be said about Franziska, whether or not you consider Miles Edgeworth’s relationship with Phoenix Wright romantic or platonic. There is no other case I can think of with such complex connections and parallels as close to the overarching story as this one did.

This case was also the one that showed the best out of Franziska and Phoenix, especially in court. We begin understanding why Franziska is angry at Phoenix and that the connection is with Miles Edgeworth, not her father. We see Franziska’s devotion to her job is not as corrupted as Justice For All built her up to be. Unlike with Turnabout Samurai, where Miles Edgeworth showed this by asking for more testimony from Dee Vasquez, despite knowing he would lose the case, Franziska shows this by thoroughly searching throughout the entire circus to the point where Acro was forced to hide the murder weapon in his wheelchair. Even though Franziska will withhold evidence from the Defense, she’s also a devoted Prosecutor willing to search for the truth by whatever means necessary. She’s not one to allow a loss keep her from moving forward. She’s someone that is used to losing and being the underdog and Turnabout Big Top clearly shows that. This also shows one of Phoenix’s biggest flaws, that being how unempathetic he really is. Despite Franziska grieving over Miles Edgeworth’s loss, Phoenix shows no empathy for what she’s going through and treats her like trash. Franziska is the first and only prosecutor that Phoenix does treat unfairly. It makes sense why Franziska doesn’t learn the error of her ways, until Miles Edgeworth returns back her whip.

Speaking of trials, I consider the trials to be the best part of Turnabout Big Top. It really challenges you and pushes you to your limit. Even the magatama parts know how to continually keep you guessing. Yes, they’re hard, but that’s why they are good at how they push you. The trials challenged you to think outside the box and look over each testimony and evidence carefully. Do I press on this part of the testimony again? Do I need to find a contradiction? Even the witnesses like Moe, Trilo and Acro are unique in their own way. Even though I got annoyed at Moe, unlike with Lotta Hart and Wendy Oldbag, Moe’s testimony didn’t feel like a waste of time. It showed his entire character arch from an annoying, obnoxious clown to a responsible leader. Trilo also shows the best of himself and how he can allow his jealousy to take over his common sense. It’s especially hilarious when you find contradictions to his statements. Acro shows himself as someone that will challenge anyone to take leaps of faith. It’s part of his character and who he is. He was willing to dive in to save his brother and challenges anyone to do the same. He’s also the only murderer to admit to feeling remorse for his actions in attempting to murder Regina. Also, Phoenix never once had to ask Mia for her help with this one.

I can understand why so many people hated this case, but I also think it gets too much hate than it deserves. Sure, there are a lot of issues with it, but there’s a lot of good with it too. I will certainly remember most of the jokes and testimonies from this case than any other case. This was a case that took a lot of chances and pushed the player to their limit. I can’t name any other case in Justice For All that did that, other than maybe Farewell my Turnabout and even that one didn’t push you all the way.

What are your thoughts?

#ace attorney #turnabout big top #regina berry #acro #justice for all #aa2 #phoenix wright #Franziska von Karma

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bitsandbobsandstuff · 6 years ago

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A love that never leaves (4)

Summary: Sometimes when you go looking for the past, you find things you never expected. When an accident brings him face to face with something he never knew he lost, Bucky Barnes begins to understand an age old truth – it’s so easy, sometimes, to love the things that destroy us.

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Bad language. The word rape is said, but only in confusion (nothing ever happens).

A/N: Bucky thinks he fucked up, but she talks him down. Also he loves comfort food and hates stitches and I agree with both those feelings. They learn a little more about each other including a BIG discovery at the end. I’m very hungry after writing this and you’ll see why (diets are stupid).

Tags are open, if you want on the list please send me a DM or ASK, it’s easier for me to track. Otherwise you can find the new updates each weekend!

MASTERLIST ALTNL MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Previously...

Cold. Always so god damn cold.

The sticky feel of him drying on her thighs is the only indication he was ever more than a dream. Hopeless tears fill her throat and after all this time, she wonders how there are still any left in her body.

It doesn’t matter.

They arrive like a tidal wave, breaking over her, destroying everything in their path and dragging her under.

*****

MISSION REPORT

NEW OBJECTIVE IDENTIFIED. RECONNAISSANCE REQUIRED TO DETERMINE APPROPRIATE COURSE OF ACTION. OBSERVATION WILL CONTINUE FROM A SAFE DISTANCE.

Was this it then? How could it be possible, after all these years? He just wants answers. Something to clarify the jagged outline of the puzzle plaguing him night and fucking day.

Balancing the notebook on his knees, he grips the pencil so tight, the sharp point of lead snaps and goes spinning across the page.

*****

Sometimes when it happens, it’s like running face first into a brick wall.

The outline was there in his brain, a lost memory he never knew he needed to find. Now, with the story she offers, the paintbrush in his head goes crazy, spilling out the colors of an icy, destructive night in Paris. Memories return, a blizzard of blurry faces and voices crackling like radio static.

Black-gloved fingers moving effortlessly over ivory keys. 10, 9, 8. Sparkling people and fizzy champagne. 7, 6, 5. Excited screaming. 4, 3, 2. Beautiful eyes, watching him from across the room. 1. Confetti and balloons bouncing. Screaming. Screaming. More screaming. Terrified screaming. Blood on his fingers, soaking into crisp white cuffs. Slipping like a shadow from a locked room. Stalking through the streets of Paris, heading back to base, until, until, until. The detour. Green paint on her walls, an open window with fluttering curtains. A trembling body dressed in satin and lace. Pleasure. Force. Rough hands, rough words. The feel of her clinging to him like he meant something. Like she wanted him. Heat licking up his spine, heat between her legs, heat in her mouth. And then tears. Sadness. Disappointment. Always, disappointment.

He remains frozen in shock, until he finds his voice. He jumps to his feet.

“Jesus,” he chokes out. He drags shaking hands through his hair and the wild tangles snag around his fingers. “Jesus. Did I - I raped you? Oh, my fucking god, fuck. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t – ”

He falls mute. The apology sits heavy on his tongue and he wants to apologize for an eternity, but this is not for him to be upset. He’s not owed the relief of tears: those are reserved for victims, not criminals. Instead, he remains silent, awaiting the condemnation he deserves.

But to his disbelief, it doesn’t come.

“No! God, no, that’s not what I’m saying,” and now she stands up, trying to assuage his horror. “You didn’t, that’s not what happened.”

“Sure sounds like it was,” Bucky grits out. His hands are clenched at his sides and a faint whirring creeps from his arm when it recalibrates, a physical representation of his panic.

“No,” she repeats forcefully. “Listen to me. That is not what happened. You didn’t, you don’t understand, I wanted – ”

She stops in frustrated confusion.

“Still, I – “

“Bu – sorry, Soldier – “

Apologies collide, and both fall silent. Bucky tries first and his voice is quiet.

“Bucky. Please. My name is Bucky.”

Wetting her lips nervously, she tests the syllables on her tongue.

“Bucky,” she begins, embarrassed. “Listen to me. I hadn’t been with anyone that way for a long time. I wanted - that. I wanted you. That night, I wanted you.”

Bucky stuffs his hands in the pockets of the sweatpants and stares at his socks. They don’t match, and he wonders fleetingly where all the socks in his dryer go. He wiggles his toes as he thinks.

“That night, you were waiting for someone else though – you thought I was someone else. Jimmy.”

He looks up and sees the wind of his words blow the light from her eyes. When she speaks, her voice is tired. “I did. I thought, I hoped, maybe I would see him, but – he didn’t come.”

The look on her face speaks of a loss so devastating, it steals his breath. “Oh,” he finally says. He has nothing else to offer.

Considering the checkered past they apparently share - and he knows it’s all true, the memories are back again, slotted back into the space from where they were previously wiped - Bucky doesn’t understand why she hasn’t thrown his ass out the door. He’s grateful for the reprieve. Undeserving, but grateful. Inflicting his presence on her any longer though, seems selfish.

“I should go,” he says heavily. “Thank you. For saving my ass. For cleaning me up. I didn’t deserve it. I’ll get my stuff and go.”

He takes one step and black spots explode in front of him. Grasping the edge of the couch, he stumbles, and she reaches for him. Leaning clumsily into her, he grunts at the bursts of pain flooding from the wounds in his chest.

“No,” she says. “Those two bullets nearly hit your heart. I don’t even understand how you’re walking right now, but you’re not going anywhere until you’ve fully healed. Please.”

“Really, I’m fine - ”

“Really, you are not,” she interrupts, steel-edged voice brooking no argument. “Stay. I insist. Get some sleep, let yourself heal. Then you can head back.” She hesitates, before the next sentence. “The world can wait, Bucky.”

Something in her tone makes him pause. It feels important, like there’s more to this exchange than meets the eye. Bucky feels the age-old desire to wrack his brain hit him hard.

“Okay,” he mutters, looking down. “If it’s really not a problem - I’ll stay. Just a few days. I, uh, I heal pretty quick.”

“Yes, I thought you might,” she murmurs, letting go of him.

Bucky waits for his vision clear, fiddling with the hair tie around his wrist and snapping it a few times to ground himself. “Once I’m not totally useless though, you gotta let me earn my keep. I’m not lying in bed all damn day.”

“Okay,” she agrees. “If you get up to bed and stay there, I’ll find some things for you to do when you feel better.”

“Helpful things?” Bucky clarifies.

“Yes, helpful things. I promise. Now go back to bed. I didn’t spend all that time stitching you closed so you could rip it all open and bleed on my floors.”

“Alright,” he agrees, giving her a small smile.

There’s that peculiar longing in her voice when she speaks again, the same as he remembered when she found him in the snow and her words brand him in the oddest way.

“Stay as long as you want. It’s nice to have someone around, no one ever comes up here.”

Bucky nods his thanks and shuffles slowly toward the stairs. As he walks, he thinks he hears her whisper his name, but it must be the wind blowing outside.

*****

The odds of Steve flipping his shit when Bucky calls are high. Toying with his phone, Bucky grimaces before he punches the STEVIE G button and waits. Blinking little dots fill his screen, and when it connects, he sees a big forehead and snarls of damp blond hair.

“Hey man. How was it?”

The phone shifts and Steve’s whole face comes into view. He’s eating Skippy peanut butter straight from the jar.

“You were eating that last time I called,” Bucky responds. “You ever gonna do anything useful, or just sit around in your underwear?”

Steve scoops a huge blob and stuffs the spoon defiantly in his mouth. “It’s a new jar,” he mumbles defensively.

“Lazy little shit,” Bucky adds, grinning.

“Okay, time for you to fuck off,” Steve replies, now washing it down with milk straight from a carton with TONY written down the side in black sharpie. “How was it? Find anything?”

“It was fine. Another false alarm.”

“Great. Headed back soon then?”

Bucky chews the inside of his cheek and looks away. “Yeah, about that. So, I may have run into some issues – ”

Milk splashes on the table when Steve bangs the carton down. “What’d you do?”

“Well hell, Rogers, I’m kinda offended. Why do you always assume it’s me?”

Steve snorts like an irritated bull and rolls his eyes. “Because. Have you met you?”

“That’s fair, but this time it wasn’t me. I swear. I was heading back to the hotel and ran into this guy, some Hydra asshat asking if I’d set off the distress signal at the base. Anyway, he’s pretty dead now, but the fucker hit me with a couple gunshots and – ”

“Hit you with a couple what?” Bucky’s always surprised Steve’s voice can hit that high note - it sounds a like he’s taken a kick in the balls. Bucky ignores it and keeps talking.

“– and I’m fine, Steve. It’s fixed, I’m all good, I just want a few days to recover, so I’m staying a little longer.”

Steve’s already stomping into his room and throwing open his closet. Yanking an army green canvas duffel from the top shelf, he throws it on the bed and starts digging through his underwear drawer. Bucky sees a handful of demure blue boxers and one pair with neon pink Captain America shields go flying into the bag while Steve mumbles to himself.

“Steve. Steve. Rogers, listen,” but Steve just plows along, ignoring Bucky and muttering about the shortest flight paths and weather reports and meetings to reschedule and all of a sudden, Bucky panics. Pulling the rip cord, he shouts a single word.

“Kit-Kat!”

Steve freezes.

For good reason.

Years ago, when Bucky was mired in a particularly crappy depressive episode, he decided to make a blanket fort in his room. He stayed huddled in the retreat for a solid week, grudgingly emerging only to scrounge up food and get fresh batteries when his TV remote went dead. It was in the middle of the night, while he was watching ‘Twilight Zone’ reruns, that Steve crept into the room and sat beside him. No words were spoken, he simply hugged his knees to his chest and sat in silence.

During a break, a Kit-Kat commercial came on. The click and snap of the candy bar and the merry little tune of ‘give me a break, give me a break’ squeaked quietly from the TV and Bucky’s voice was groggy when he spoke.

“This is really hard. Sometimes, I just – I need a break.”

Steve hummed his agreement and through the thick blankets, Bucky felt the comforting pressure of Steve’s hand on his shoulder. “I know. How about you and me make a deal? If things get to be too much and we need a real break, where you just get to be alone, no questions asked – we say that. Say Kit-Kat and everyone’ll back off. It’ll be like a safeword. Okay?”

The pile of blankets is silent, but a minute later Steve hears Bucky’s voice whisper. “Okay.”

“But you can’t use it often,” Steve says firmly. “This is only for the big ones. You only get to use it when you really need it. Deal?”

The ‘Twilight Zone’ theme song buzzes from the TV, playing through the entire refrain, before Bucky’s hand slowly emerges from the pile. He holds it in the air and waits. Steve grips his fingers to shake and without thinking, unconscious movements walk them through the stupid super-secret handshake they created in 1927.

Bucky still wonders how the hell his body remembers these things, when his broken brain couldn’t recall his own name for decades. Steve reminds him some things are like that.

Muscle memory. Some things just stick.

The pact is binding. Rarely used, but unbreakable when granted. Since their agreement, Bucky’s used it twice and Steve’s tried it once. Now, Bucky watches Steve’s jaw working, peanut butter smudged in the corner of his mouth, and he knows Steve wants to argue.

But a promise is a promise.

Steve drops the duffel bag with a muffled thump.

“Alright. But you better fuckin’ call if you need something. None of this ‘I can get by on my own’ bullshit. Understood?”

“Hey man, that line was all you, not me,” Bucky reminds him and Steve grunts irritably. “But yeah, ‘course I will. Thanks buddy.”

Before he hangs up, he gives the phone a mocking salute and a wide smile. Steve rolls his eyes and flips him off, very pointedly pushing the end call button.

Silence surrounds him and his smile fades as he looks around the room. Exhaustion fills him then and his limbs feel like lead. Collapsing onto the bed, he buries his face in her pillow and closes his eyes.

*****

He sleeps for 48 straight hours.

He gets up a few times and stumbles to the bathroom, eyes half closed and leaning against the wall because he can barely keep his balance, but otherwise he’s out cold. The gnarled fingers of the nightmares always strangling him slither up his neck, searching for purchase, but they’re rebuffed. Again and again and again, they bay for his blood, but for some unknown reason they’re pushed away.

What a god damn relief.

*****

It’s late morning on the third day, when the sound of his stomach growling kicks him awake. Huffing out a soft whine as he stretches, he rubs the grit from his eyes and lifts the blanket. Tugging gently at the tape around his bandage, he sees splotches of green and yellow bruising around the area, and finds two wounds that look weeks old, scabby and starting to itch.

“Good morning,” he hears and looks up to find her standing in the doorway with a purple mug of coffee.

“H-,” he croaks, voice rusty with disuse, and he clears his throat and tries again. “Sorry. Hey. Good morning.”

She walks slowly toward the bed, as if not to spook him. Bucky tries to smile, wincing just slightly as he struggles to sit up. Extending the mug, he accepts it gratefully and takes a long drink.

“Damn, that’s amazing. Thank you.”

Returning his easy smile, she motions to the wound and holds up a small scissors. “I can take those stitches out, if you want. Unless you’d prefer to do it yourself.”

Letting an unknown person near him with a pair of scissors seems like less than intelligent behavior, but Bucky’s never been a fan of stitches – putting them in or taking them out. Broken bones, concussions, burns, those are no problem. But anything that includes sewing human flesh together? That’s at the top of his nope scale.

“God yeah. Please.” He throws the blankets aside and swings his legs over the edge of the bed looking up at her. “How do you, um…how do you want me?”

“That’s fine, just sit up straight and, um, if you can – lift up your shirt?” Bucky nods and pulls up his t-shirt, removing his right arm and then hesitating. He ends up with it half-way on, keeping his left arm and the thick red scars around his shoulder, hidden from view. Clearing his throat, he looks into his lap and waits.

Kneeling between his legs, her fingers are freezing when they touch his skin and he flinches slightly.

“Sorry,” she murmurs apologetically, pulling away and rubbing her hands on her thighs. “My hands are always cold.”

“S’okay, just surprised me,” Bucky replies quietly. She glances up with a fleeting smile and goes back to work.

For the strangest reason, he feels himself begin to blush. Which makes no sense, because how many times has he been buck-ass naked in front of doctors and never batted an eye. But now, he swallows self-consciously and maybe he sucks in his stomach and flexes just a little, because for some wild reason, he cares what she thinks.

Which makes no god damn sense.

She doesn’t seem to notice though, tongue between her teeth while she snips carefully at the threads and tugs them loose. Once they’re gone, she squeezes a bit of ointment on, rubbing her thumb gently over the scab, and puts a clean bandage in place.

When she’s finished, she looks up to find him staring awkwardly down, his face flushed a splotchy red.

“Are you okay? Do you feel warm?” She reaches a cool hand to his forehead and Bucky gets flustered.

“No, no,” he says hastily, and he nearly tumbles off the bed when he ducks away. “I’m great. Fit as a fiddle. It’s just the fire, kinda hot in here, and you have lots of blankets and they’re so fluffy, and I’m, yeah. Whew! Hot stuff. Anyway.”

Bucky wants to sink into the floorboards. Hot stuff? What the hell was that?! he groans internally. Have you ever even talked to a woman? Get your shit together you fucking moron!

His verbal stupidity surprises her, but thank god she ignores it. Standing up, she crumples the used bandages.

“If you’re tired, you should keep sleeping. It’s good for you.”

Bucky shakes his head and adjusts his shirt. “I’ve slept more these past few days than the past two months. Usually have - nightmares and things,” he tucks loose hair behind his ear, frowning at the admission, “but I’ve slept perfect here. No nightmares at all.”

Her eyes light up at his admission. “That’s great. I’m glad.”

“Besides, you deserve your bed back.”

“No, you’re recovering, you need to stay in here – ”

Bucky holds up both hands to stop her. “Yeah, no. You’re not winning this one. If it’s still okay, I’d like to stay a couple more days. Pay you back for helping me. But I’m taking the couch downstairs and if you try to make me sleep in here, I’ll sleep downstairs anyway and this very comfortable bed will go to waste.”

Hands on her hips, she raises her eyebrows, staring him down. Bucky feels momentarily cowed, but he gives just as good, so he folds his arms and stares back.

Finally, her lips twitch and he hears a small laugh. The sound makes his blood sing.

*****

The days tick by.

And it goes like this.

Every morning, she comes downstairs to find him sitting on the couch, blankets perfectly folded into neat squares. He hands her a cup of coffee, asks what he can help with today, and her long list of home improvements begins to shrink.

Every evening, she makes supper and they talk, and Bucky quickly realizes how much he enjoys these evenings. It should bother him, he thinks, to feel so oddly at ease with this woman who’s essentially a stranger. But he finds himself sharing bits of himself, absorbing those pieces of herself she hands over. He relaxes more in a few days of knowing her, than in months of living with his team in New York.

Every night, she tells him to sleep well and she climbs the stairs up to her bedroom. He listens as she gets ready for bed, the quiet path of her footsteps a soothing predictability. When the footsteps go silent, he fluffs out a blanket and gets comfortable on the couch, so he can think.

And all through the night, he dozes in fits and starts, staying awake in the darkness to keep watch over this unknown woman who saved his life.

*****

“It’s just always so damn cold out there. You know what I miss? Soup.”

“Hmmm. Soup would be good. What kind?”

“Um…potato? My Ma makes the best damn potato soup. Warms your bones right up.”

“I have some potatoes left in the cellar. Come over tonight, I’ll give it a try.”

*****

“Can I ask what you were doing up here?” she asks, stirring her soup. Bucky ignores caution and dives right in, chomping into a steaming potato and gasping in pain.

“Damn, this is amazing, I love potato soup. Haven’t had it in years,” he enthuses, fanning his mouth. He swallows the scorching bite and takes a swig of water. “So, there used to be an old Hydra base near here. Been abandoned forever, but one of the old distress signals went off. I came up to investigate.”

Fishing in the liquid for another potato, he captures one and looks up to meet a wide-eyed stare.

“I never knew there was a base around here. Did you find anything?” she asks tightly. Bucky sees her fingers clutch the spoon so hard he’s surprised it doesn’t snap.

“No, nothing. It’s happened before, couple other places. Old bases breaking down, tech sparking out,” he says quickly. “Never anything wrong when we get there. It’s nothing to worry about, I promise. Just Hydra shit finally crapping out. It’s a good thing.”

“You’re sure?”

Bucky hears it in her voice. He’s intimately acquainted with the sound of fear. His spoon clinks when he sets it down and he gives her a reassuring smile.

“I’m sure.”

She’s keeps stirring her soup, thinking. When she asks a question, her voice wavers. “The man I shot. Was he Hydra?”

Bucky knows that sound as well. The uncertainty of someone who was caught in the moment, who fought violence with violence. “Yes. He was there about the signal. Asked if I set it off.”

Looking away, she sees their reflection watching from the living room windows. Her face is thoughtful when she considers.

“I shot someone. And I didn’t think twice.”

The movement is purely unconscious. Bucky couldn’t stop it if he tried.

“Thank you,” he says, clutching her fingers and pouring every drop of sincerity into his voice, “for not thinking twice.”

“You’re welcome,” she says faintly. Her fingers press against his for the briefest moment, before she drags her hand back to her lap.

*****

“You ever think about getting rid of that rooster?”

“Are you trying to murder my birds?”

“No! Oh geez, no.”

“How about this - if he’s still alive next time you visit, I’ll make you fried chicken.”

*****

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” she answers, carefully setting fried chicken on a paper towel to cool.

Bucky thinks for a moment and chooses his words carefully. “The last time we met, it was 1969.”

Her shoulders tense, but she nods and avoids his stare. “Yes. It was.”

“You can tell me to fuck off here if you want, but - you don’t look quite old enough for us to know each other then.”

She stays silent, scratching at the edge of the skillet with tongs. He can tell she’s deciding how to answer.

“No. I guess I don’t.” Looking up at him, she sets the utensil in the sink and meets his curious gaze. “I’m – enhanced, I guess. If that’s what they’re calling it these days.”

It makes sense. There must be thousands of enhanced people across the world. So many choose to stay under the radar, uninterested in the circus spectacle that follows anyone who displays even a hint of ability. Bucky thinks of Steve wearing baseball caps all the time, and Wanda dying her hair black and changing her accent, and Bruce avoiding the color green and staying hidden in Tony’s labs all day.

Sometimes being different sucks.

“Got it,” Bucky says. He watches her pick at her chicken and he nudges a little more. “So, you’re enhanced and you…found a good skin cream then?”

She huffs out a laugh.

“That would’ve been nicer. I was born with an ability. It was nothing powerful. Nothing fun,” she says with a trace smile and Bucky feels himself smile in response. “It was passed down in my family. My mother had it, her mother before her. When I was 27, there was an accident. I don’t understand what th – what happened. But here I am.”

Bucky sees the light in her eyes dim, her expression closing off and he desperately wants to keep her talking. He wants to learn more. He wants to learn her.

“Should I assume Hydra was responsible for that accident?” Startled at the comment, she looks up nervously. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I just, when I told you why I was here, you seemed - scared. I know the feeling.”

Swallowing hard, she licks suddenly dry lips. “Yes. They - liked their experiments.”

Bucky gives her a grim smile. “Yeah. They really fuckin’ do, don’t they?” They sit in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts, until Bucky’s curiosity gets the best of him. “What’s your ability?”

With those magic words, it ends. Her expression shutters and she retreats into herself.

“I’m sorry. I’m not comfortable talking about it,” she says quietly. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course,” Bucky replies easily, and he means it. He picks the crispy skin from the chicken leg. “I know what it’s like to be different.”

*****

“You made noodles?”

“A long time ago, when we had plenty of flour and butter. They won’t be as good as the ones you had in Italy though.”

“Nah, those were fascist noodles. I bet your noodles taste better.”

“I would hope so.”

*****

“The food here is fantastic,” Bucky says reverently, piling a second helping of spaghetti on his plate. Maybe he should feel self-conscious at the awkward way he slurps the noodles, but it’s so fucking good he doesn’t care.

She forks the noodles and twirls them into a spoon, grinning at him. Bucky marvels briefly at the effortless gesture.

“Well, I try.”

“You succeed.”

Passing him a basket of bread, she stirs the noodles around her bowl.

“Hey Bucky?

“Hmmm?

“What have you been doing? Since you came back?” she asks tentatively.

There’s a question.

What has he been doing? Revenge. Rounding up the arrogant fucks who escaped the first Hydra purge following DC. Avenging. Throwing himself back into fighting, trying to rebuild his tarnished reputation with the good deeds he owes. All are viable answers, but he goes with a more personal truth, the one that keeps him up at nights.

“Trying to figure myself out, I guess. Learn how to be part of a team again. How the world works, when you’re allowed to make your own decisions. Sorting through memories, trying to make them useful. All that good stuff.”

She takes a drink of wine and seems to gather her courage. “And are you - I mean do you – have you been remembering things?”

The question is so hesitant. Bucky wonders wryly if she’s afraid to hurt his feelings, but it doesn’t matter, he can admit when he has no fucking idea what’s going on. Which is most of the time.

“Some,” he says honestly. “Don’t remember anything from before I was captured. Anything I know, it’s stuff Steve’s told me, or stuff I’ve read. Watched a bunch of documentaries about WW2, that was weird, seeing myself on old film reels. No idea why, but I can’t get to any of those memories, they’re just - obliterated. The ones with Hydra though, they’re reappearing. That’s why I volunteer for jobs like this,” he admits, tearing off a hunk of bread. “Keep thinking if I go back to these places, I can figure out who I was back then.”

“Bucky. Why the hell would you do that to yourself?” she asks sternly. Bucky grins at the tone.

“You sound like Steve. Look, I don’t want to know what I did back then. All the shit I’ve done to other people…all the shit that’s been done to me. Fuck that. I don’t want to know, I need to know. Hard to put yourself back together, when you’re missing huge pieces of the puzzle.”

Bucky looks down at his plate, mopping up spaghetti sauce with his bread. She doesn’t say anything else.

*****

The air is crisp and clean the next night, when Bucky steps outside. Standing on the front porch, he pulls a dark blue knit hat low over his ears and sucks a deep breath, reveling in the freshness that fills his lungs. Mountain sunsets are something incredible to behold and he stops to savor it; the craggy horizon painted brilliant red-orange, deep purple hugging from above, crystal white stars gleaming.

It clears his head in an unexpected way. The scents of snow and pine needles and life. He’d forgotten how reviving life in the wilderness could be. Growing up in Brooklyn, spending most of his life now in Manhattan, he wasn’t exactly an outdoorsy guy. And normally, he hates the snow. Spent far too many years being cold to seek it out, but here? Here, it’s not too bad. The sound of the nearby river bubbling through ice, the smell of wood smoke curling in the air, and – well.

And her.

There’s something strangely calming about her. Her voice, her mannerisms. Her cautious smile. The way she hums while she cooks and how she catches her tongue between her teeth when she’s concentrating. Bucky feels an unusual tug in his belly at the thought. It feeds something he hasn’t really considered since he fought his way back to the land of the living and it’s making him reconsider a few things.

He should probably call Steve tonight. Let him know he’s still knee deep in Kit-Kat mode.

Because right now? Bucky really doesn’t want to leave.

Reaching for the tattered broom leaning by the railing, he sweeps away the couple inches of new snow covering the steps and jumps lightly down. Walking back to her little woodshed, he pops a key into the lock connecting the shed doors and eases the creaking wood open. Rummaging for a few minutes, he piles up a massive armful of logs and carries them back to the bin on her front porch. Three times he makes the trip, arranging the pile carefully, filling it to overflowing, so she won’t need to tramp through the snow to get more.

Maybe tomorrow, he’ll make himself useful and cut more. Manual labor, fresh air. The happy thought makes him giddy.

When he finishes, he flips the lock clasp to bolt it again, but something catches his eye. Peering closer, he finds scratches down the side of the lock. Glinting silver, they look new. Bucky narrows his eyes and glances over his shoulder, into the darkness of the trees beyond.

The world is quiet. Not a breath of wind.

It seems odd, but as she said before – no one ever comes up this way. Likely it’s nothing and she mentioned this lock gave her issues, so maybe it was simply past frustration. Fingering the grooves, he makes a mental note to ask her about it, just in case. Trudging back toward the porch, the scent of pancakes reaches his nose and he leaps eagerly up the first step.

He pulls up short.

It happens then. The brick wall appears.

Bucky feels his brain ricochet from the blow. He wasn’t even searching, but it hits like a hammer, pounding the breath from his lungs and the sound of Steve’s voice fills his head.

“Nah, it was in France, about a year before. SHIELD never returned your bag after – well. After. Who the hell knows though, maybe it’s lost in the archives somewhere. Anyway, there were all these letters you had in there from your girl, maybe they’re something you want.”

“My girl?”

“Yeah, you – your girl. Smart. Beautiful. You were, uh…you were just fuckin’ head over heels. She used to write you all these letters, you kept ‘em stuffed in your bag, ‘Dear Jimmy,’ they always started and – ”

“Stop.”

“Buck – ”

“Stop it Steve, I mean it.”

“Alright, alright, you said you wanted to know, I’m just telling you - ”

“Dammit, just - I don’t wanna remember it. Not right now. Can’t fuckin’ handle hearing about someone else I let down.”

Somewhere in the forest, a bird whistles. The sound brings him crashing back to the present.

Dear Jimmy, he thinks.

Bucky stops breathing.

*****

There’s an old jazz song on the radio perched above her sink, and she turns the dial up. Tapping her feet to the brassy beat, she moves through the small kitchen, humming. Pancakes, eggs, bacon. Breakfast at supper. For some reason it’s always a treat, no matter how old you are.

She’s mixing batter when she hears the quiet click of the closing door, and she sets the bowl down and turns to look at him with a grin.

“Look, I know you said you don’t like your pancakes burnt, but I think you should just try – ”

Her voice fades when she sees him. Bucky stands before her, the blue knit cap clenched in his hands. Dark hair sticks in every direction and he pushes it back, trying to coax it smooth, and she sees his fingers tremble. His face is pale and his bright blue eyes watch her closely.

“Bucky? Are you okay?”

He opens his mouth and closes it. Twice. Unable to find the words.

“Are you hurt?” she tries again, wiping her hands on a dish towel and coming forward. “What happened?”

Holding up a hand, he stops her and moves to sit on the edge of an armchair. Chewing his lip for a full minute, he finally finds his voice.

“I have a question. I need you to answer me with the truth.”

“Okay,” she says hesitantly. She moves to the living room and sinks slowly to the chair opposite him. She pinches her lip nervously and Bucky feels his heart spasm. He keeps watching her, willing himself to pull up the correct memories and failing. Finally, he gives up and whispers.

“Am I Jimmy? Were you waiting for me that night?”

Her expression never changes, but he sees her breathe faster, chest rising and falling quickly. The answer is clear. Closing her eyes, she exhales a long breath.

“Yeah. You – yes. Yes. You were, you are – him. You’re Jimmy.” Opening her eyes, he sees them shiny with tears and when she blinks, they spill over. “I was waiting for you that night.”

Silence stretches longer and longer and Bucky finally realizes his lungs are burning. He lets out his breath with rush and leans forward. Elbows on his knees, he tries with everything in his heart, to remember.

“We’d met? Before then? We knew each other?”

She sits up straight, never breaking eye contact. Wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand, she searches for the right words. Bucky feels his heart thump wildly while he waits; her voice is laced with sadness when she speaks.

“The first time we met was in 1944. I was wearing grey and you were wearing blue.”

*****

Next Chapter

*****

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iprocrastinatefartoomuch · 5 years ago

Text

Some thoughts on AWAE 3x07 (spoilers ahead)...

As much as I applaud Anne’s intentions, I can’t help but be worried that it will backfire and harm Josie.

Question: How does she have the key to the schoolhouse?

“We’ll simply do whatever it takes to get him back”. And the mother of the year award most certainly won’t be bestowed upon Mrs. Pye.

“He’s not a nice boy.” -The most accurate thing anybody has said about Billy.

Mrs. Andrews is also not winning any awards soon for her lack of interest in rectifying the damage that was inflicted upon Josie by her son.

Ugh, Mr. Andrews is equally as despicable.

Diana does have a point, an apology to Josie is much needed.

Damn, that slap came quick. The trash comment wasn’t necessary but Josie was right about the timing (something that could have been avoided if Billy didn’t decide to spread rumors).

Why is Moody the only one not in trousers?

I agree with Gilbert, she should have consulted with someone.

The fertilizer column, I didn’t know you could write so much about it especially without academic journals on standby.

I may have conflicting opinions on Rachel but ugh, the priests got on my nerve. Stop interrupting and calling Rachel hysterical when she has a legit point.

As much as I’m not happy about Diana & Jerry hitting an impasse, it’s at least realistic. I don’t think they have a lot to connect on. I wonder how it’s going to resolved because Paris finishing school isn’t too far away.

All I kept thinking about when Miss Stacy ranted on censorship and the board of directors, was how similar Anne is to Miss Stacy.

The person who cast Miss Stacy most definitely deserved a raise.

“I’ve reckoned you’ve heard enough from men on this topic.’ -This is why we stand Mathew. He needs to not die.

I almost forgot about the story club, I’m sad it’s no longer in existence.

“…and no reference to animal husbandry.” I know I’m supposed to be outraged at the board but I found that bit hilarious.

Gilbert is showing the newspaper how to be a good ally, supportive without stealing their platform.

Also, I love that the reason why her friends made up wasn’t that they realized that they had upset Anne but in fact, were perpetuating the dangerous status quo.

I love the little look Moody gives Ruby when she says “We shouldn’t have ever been blamed.” because he willingly admits his wrong. I love Ruby’s evolution into this bold, self-assured young woman.

Indeed the Cuthbert’s farm boy has grown so tall.

“Does he have a farm girl?”-Got to love Tillie

If Mr. Andrews didn’t slosh around his tea when staring in the milk, he wouldn’t have tea everywhere. He frustrates me immensely.

Do I know what Prissy is talking about? Not really, but she does have the components of a good pitch, yes and her father is acting so condescendingly towards her.

Anne’s apologies are so thoughtful. I love how she conveyed to Josie her true intentions but also acknowledged how she failed to protect the subject’s identity.

Jerry has gone to see Anne about some relationship advice, can’t wait.

Oh no, I forgot briefly that Anne doesn’t know about Diana and him.

Don’t mention her name….well he did and she’s not happy about not being in the loop.

I agree Diana should have told Anne at the very least. After all, she did bare her soul in telling her about her feelings on Gilbert

“They can’t your beauty away from you.”-That’s not what’s high on the priority for Josie.

I interpreted her taking out the rag curls as her realization that Avonlea society isn’t going to change without her taking a stand.

I liked how Josie made it abundantly clear that Billy shouldn’t attempt to rectify the situation because he still likes her but instead, only if he realizes how damaging his behavior was.

I’m glad that Billy didn’t get a straight-up villain edit because at the end of the day, he is to an extent, a product of his parents. His mom, despite being a member of the Progressive Mothers’ Club didn’t instill any progressive values in him and his father is an asshat. I think it’s important to keep in mind that he’s only 16 (he has a long way to go) and didn’t even finish high school. BUT he’s also 16, so he should have also known that inflicting bodily harm on innocent individuals is wrong.

“You’re not making any sense”. I disagree with Anne, if two consent to messing about, I don’t see the harm in it but then again, she’s still reeling off from some heartbreak. Thank god for the sexual freedom of 2019.

Simultaneously, I do understand why Jerry sees Diana’s lack of acknowledgment of their relationship in the public sphere (even if it’s just Anne) as degrading but I think that’s all part of growing up. They need to have a serious conversation on intents and their future. Whatever the conversation, I do hope Diana doesn’t see this courtship as something strictly related to her desire to rebel against her parents’ wishes.

They have great chemistry but an actual courtship or marriage won’t last long based solely on desire.

Also, letting the distance of Paris be how she intends to end their relationship is an extremely poor idea.

Diana & Anne’s fallout needs to be rectified ASAP. Simply put, I cannot survive a 3 episode drought of their friendship.

Yes Prissy, ask for your dowry.

We stand supportive parents such as those of Marilla & Mathew.

I love their protest. Freedom of speech is a human right.

Got to love Miss Stacy getting photographic evidence of the priest trying to subvert free speech.

Rachel and I are tearing up.

I spot with very eyes an upcoming Shirbert scene.

I’m loving this flirty banter between the two.

Hear, hear, Gilbert has acknowledged that they do make a good team.

Now kiss. Oh shit, I forgot about Winifred.

The fucking asshole priests have organized a middle-of-the-night mission to steal the press. Lucky for them, they managed to set the schoolhouse on fire. Congrats, now you’ve definitely self-incriminated yourself.

Final Thoughts:

Needs Bash, Cole & Aunt Jo next episode. Preferably continuing her adventure finding more about her lineage and maybe, dressed up in the same light green getup.

We need more of Prissy.

Diana and Anne need to make up.

Winifred needs to go. As much as I don’t have anything against her, she and Gilbert don’t quite make the kind of team, anyone is looking for.

Where’s Ka'kwet and her storyline going?

Mrs. Andrews needs to grow a backbone.

Regarding Diana & Jerry’s storyline: if the writers decide to keep them together, she should still be going to finishing school because she doesn’t have any skills and isn’t getting a college education.

Billy needed more public backlash.

Please no Fred Wright.

#awae #annewithane #awae3x07 #awaespoilers #anne shirly cuthbert #AnneofGreenGables #anne x gilbert

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littlemessyjessi · 6 years ago

Text

“ABC Cute Headcanons”: Mick Rory Edition

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

Mick Rory Imagine Mick Rory Cute Alphabet Headcanons

------------------------------ Hello, Smoochies! I hope you like this and if you'd like to read more of my work you can check out my masterlist linked on my profile! If you'd like more Mick, then you can visit my Legends of Tomorrow mini masterlist located there as well! Enjoy! ------------------------------

A = Attractive. What do they find attractive about the other?

He's very into the shape of you. It's intoxicating to him.

But on a deep level, he loves your passion. It's the fire in you when you're really into something that ignites something him. It would, lol.

B = Baby. Do they want a family? Why/Why not?

Sometimes he kind of does because he likes to entertain the idea of a normal life with you. But in reality, he loves the random explosive world ya'll live in...and that's not made for a baby. He's ok with that though.

C = Cuddle. How do they cuddle?

Ha, most definitely. He's on you like white on rice. This man. Good luck, trying to get up to pee at night.

D = Dates. What are dates with them like?

Ridiculous. As troublesome and fun as they can be. Nothing too serious and it mostly involves fucking around with the others. He just has the best time of his life with you.

E = Everything. You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…)

You're everything to him. You're his ride or die.

F = Feelings. When did they know they were falling in love?

He knew he loved you the moment you kicked someone in the face for calling him an idiot. You were actually still rather new to your relationship but you heard it, spun around and just fuckin nailed them in the face. Homie fell fucking hard.

G = Gentle. Are they gentle? If so, how?

Surprisingly a gentle giant. He knows you can kick ass but you are his little china doll no matter what you look like. However, he's all for it when you decide to tackle his ass.

H = Holding Hands. How do they like to hold hands?

He'll hold you hand but his more likely to have an arm around your waist or hanging over your shoulder, a finger tucked in your pocket. That kind of thing. He likes you close...but he tries to manage as much physical contact as possible.

I = Impression. First impression/s?

He thought you were stunning. You were mid ass kickery and he was just like, this is the one. You're first impression of him was that he was fucking huge, rather attractive...and probably very fucking dangerous. Not because you were scared of him but because you knew he was just your damn type. And that if he looked at you the right way...you'd have him in your bed.

You weren't exactly wrong....

J = Joker. Are they into pulling pranks?

Oh, hell. Ya'll stay pulling pranks.

K = Kiss. How do they kiss?

Mick's kisses are soft and gentle but they're hungry. You're like his last meal and he's a starving man.

L = Love. Who says ‘I love you’ first?

It was more of a 'Love ya." but he said it first. It was off handed (so he says) and he'd actually been doing something at the time. He panicked slightly after he realized what he said but you'd already pecked his cheek and said, "Love ya too, stud."

M = Memory. What’s their favourite memory together?

His favorite memories with you are actually really chill. It's the domestic stuff that are super special to him.

N = Nickel. Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?

Well, he steals shit for you all the time, lol. So yeah, in a way. You know he does it but you're ok with it. It's less about the stealing and more about the fact that he was thinking about you. You spoil his ass too...but in different ways. His body is very grateful, lol.

O = Orange. What colour reminds them of their other half?

Yellow reminds him of you. It's like the sun. At first glance, it's happy and bright. But if you get too close without the right protection (permission)...you get fucking burned.

P = Petnames. What petnames do they use?

He calls you Sunshine sometimes because you remind him of the sun. He also calls you babe, babes, sugartits (to piss you off), lol.

Q = Quaint. What is their favourite non-modern thing?

Loves it when you read your book (or whatever you're reading) outloud with his head in your lap.

R = Rainy Day. What do they like to do on a rainy day?

Honest answer? Get busy, lol. However, he'll settle for cuddling in the bed with you.

S = Sad. How do they cheer themselves/others up?

He punches things but it doesn't really help. You have this habit of pulling the ugliest, funniest faces at him when he's doing something and he just loses it. Cheers him right up.

T = Talking. What do they like to talk about?

He's actually very into talking about you guys and what you could have together in the future. And what he likes right now.

U = Unencumbered. What helps them relax?

Play wrestling. His super strong and he'd never hurt you...but you're a fucking badass. You're serious competition. So ya'll play wrestle a lot and it always ends in laughter.

V = Vaunt. What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?

Working out. I mean, he basically gets naked and he can almost feel your jaw dropping behind him.

W = Wedding. When, how, where do they propose?

That could go either way. He wouldn't mind marrying you. But here's the thing. You're already his wife ot him. That's how he straight up introduces you to people. You're his one and only, fuck the paper.

X = Xylophone. What’s their song?

"Disco Inferno" lol. You fucking insisted. Because you're an asshat. But you're his asshat.

Y = You. You are the ___ to my ___ (e.g. the cookies to my milk, the macaroni to my cheese)

You are the gasoline to my fire. Duh.

Z = Zebra. If they wanted a pet, what would they get?

I think he'd secretly want a cat, lol. Cats are assholes. I mean, I love them with all my heart...but they fucking are. It's fitting, don't you think? lol.

Heeeeeey, smoochies! I hope you enjoyed this fun little thing! It's not what I normally but one of you lovelies sent it to me! If ya did please be sure to leave a comment and let me know! Happy Reading!

Love, Mama Kennysaurus!

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Love, Kenny

#mick rory #mick rory imagine #mick rory headcanons #mick rory x reader #mick rory x ps reader #ps reader #plus size reader #legends of tomorrow #legends of tomorrow imagine #legends of tomorrow headcanons #abc headcanons #abc cute headcanons #cute headcanons #headcanons #mick rory x plus size reader #kennysaurus #littlemessyjessi #mama kennysaurus

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loverness-writes · 7 years ago

Text

Keep it PG

Inspiration: Link Here

I’m sorry @iamvegorott, but I couldn’t let this one go.

It was a Thursday night at the SepticEgo house. Marvin had a show that night, Chase was taking his kids to the movies, Jameson had disappeared inside his room to listen to old records, and Jackieboy-Man was running along rooftops, scanning for trouble. Robbie and Schneeplestein were sitting across from the coffee table, the game ‘Operation’ laid out in front of them. Henrik was clearly winning with the successful apple, wrench, butterfly, and pencil pieces as opposed to Robbie’s horse piece. Despite his best efforts at failing for Robbie’s benefit, Henrik was still much more experienced at the tweezer ‘surgery’. He hoped to keep losing turns due to the rubber band.

Without warning, Anti leaned over Henrik’s shoulder and picked up the wrench piece. The doctor jumped and whipped around, a scowl on his face.

“Could you not sneak up behind me for ONCE? I’m trying to concentrate.”

Anti smirked. “Are ya, doc? Because right now, it looks ta me like you’ve tried ‘n failed 5 times ta get a simple rubber band with tweezers.” Before Henrik could shoot him a warning, he continued “Ya know, I killed someone with a wrench once. It was in an alley downtown.”

Robbie perked up. “What happened, Antsy? Did he try to steal your money?”

“Nah, he was makin fun of my hair. Said I was ‘too old’ for bold colors.” Anti leaned over and ruffled Robbie’s hair which got a small laugh out of him. “Where’d you find the wrench?” Robbie’s eyes sparkled with curiosity.

Anti just shrugged before jumping onto the couch. “Found it on some ladder against the alley wall. My knives were back home because SOMEONE didn’t want me ta bring em when I left for groceries that day.” Anti looked pointedly at Schneeplestein who simply kept looking at the tweezers and remarked “We don’t need more police reports to expunge.”

“What happened next?” Robbie had seemingly abandoned the game for the time-being and was leaning against the table with his chin in his hands. But before Anti could open his mouth, Henrik muttered “We need Antiseptic PG.”

“Awww come on, doc. You’re a surgeon. Don’t ya wanna know how I did it? I even got a cool scar from it, see?” Anti lifted up his shirt sleeve to show a fading line across the side of his shoulder. Henrik looked it over for a few seconds before adding “That won’t be the only scar you have tied to this story if you question my request.”

Anti simply clicked his tongue, his smirk still unwavering. “Really, doc. Threats? Doesn’t sound very PG to me.” A light giggle played on his lips before he sighed and agreed, starting the story from when he left the house that morning.

_________________

Marvin had already come back from his show before Anti was done; however after walking through the door hearing “But just as that asshat took a swing at me with his switchblade, I threw a gallon of milk at his face”, he simply threw his hat on the coatrack and walked towards his room, slouched from fatigue.

At some point, Jameson had emerged to grab a few cookies, but didn’t stay long when he grasped the conversation was violence-related.

At the end of the story, Robbie was looking on in awe while Henrik seemed uninterested, his attention instead on the ‘spare ribs’ in the game. Robbie almost had the water pail twice but other than that, showed no real success throughout the last hour. “That was a… riveting story, Anti, but I think we’d focus on our game better if you weren’t distracting us with tales from alleys.”

Anti’s face dropped quickly from a grin to a deepening scowl. “Whatever. ‘Operation’ sucks anyways.” As quickly as he had appeared, Anti was gone back down the hallway. Within five minutes, however, he was back with a grin brushed wide on his face.

Before Henrik could question his mischievous nature, Anti pulled out a gun from behind his back. The barrel was a deep reflective purple and there was something etched in the handle; but his hand was covering it.

A giggle echoed from Anti’s lips before he aimed at the game on the table and pulled the trigger.

“ANTI-”, but Henrik stopped his yelling when he saw that instead of a hole punched through the electric game, a bright blue cylinder was in its place. Almost immediately, Robbie picked it up and popped it in his mouth.

“Mmmmmm Jolly Ranchers. Thanks, Antsy.” Robbie looked content with a cheek bulging out, reveling in the sickeningly sweet hard candy.

“Close your mouth, Doc. My aim with a gun isn’t THAT good,” Anti said with a smirk. Henrik turned to look at him, his brain queueing up a thousand questions already.

Due to his look of confusion, Anti tossed the gun onto the table with a loud CLANK. Etched into the handle in beautiful silver cursive was the name ‘Robbie’. The look on Henrik’s face was too much to bear and Anti ended up doubled over in laughter for a minute or two. Once he was satisfied, he stood back up straight and turned to leave.

“Enjoy your game, Doc!”, Anti exclaimed before strolling out of the room.

Henrik was going to have a little … chat… with Wilford about this.

___________________________________________

Tags:

@iamvegorott

#antisepticeye #ridiculous #robbiethezombie #dr schneeplestein #i hardcore blame veggie #i need food #enjoy whatever this is #never really played operation dont judge me #i want that gun #my writing

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somnum-exterreri-xiii · 7 years ago

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Blame @russia-lover for this. If someone wants to draw this please tag me. I'll love you forever

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

This wasn't how Evan planned on spending his after noon, pinned to the ground with his best friend sitting on his hips keeping him against the floor. "Tyler stop!" Jonathan screamed trying to shove Nogla off of him. "You're going to hurt him!" Moo yelled as he struggled against Marcel. "Nu-uh. He's fine right Ev?" Tyler asked holding the Canasians mouth open and shoving another soft cookie in Evan's mouth before he could protest. "Luke! I'm outta cookies!" Tyler yelled and the southern devil appeared from the kitchen with the sixth package of lofthouse sugar cookies. "Put za cookie down!" Brian yelled in his terminator voice. "Who wants some milk!" Lui squeaked out in his squeaker voice. "Luke you asshat!" Delirious yelled at his best friend as he handed more cookies to Wildcat. "Lui lemme see the milk." Wildcat says holding his hand out and lui complied giggling. "Time to wash it down Ev!" Wildcat cooed pouring some milk in the mans mouth then covered it with his hand. "Swallow it dammit." Nogla yelped as delirous finally kicked him off of him but before he could reach Tyler, Brian tackled him down earning abunch of curses. "This'll teach you to steal my cookies Canada boy." "Tyler what're you doing?" A sleepy question came from Craig. "Uhhhh Nothing?" The short ladd narrowed his eyes at the taller man finally assessing the situation. "Jesus, Stop before you make Evan choke Ty." Tyler groaned but got off the Canadian. "You're no fun Mini!" Lui protested. Evan climbed to his feet and ran into the kitchen with Brock and Jonathan following him. Ryan giggled as he recorded the entire thing. Once Evan stopped chugging the milk he went back into the living room. "You're an ass! All of ya!" Everyone but Brock and Delirious laughed. "Shouldn't have taken my cookies bitch boy." Tyler shrugged.

#my work #vanossgaming #i am wildcat #moo snuckel #h2o delirious #Cartoonz #ohmwrecker #lui calibre #banana bus squad #dont steal

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hauntedduckdefendor · 8 years ago

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Not Jus’ the Whiskey Talkin’

Bastards. The whole lot of them. Swarming around Y/N like she was roadkill, and them all a bunch of starvin fuckin’ buzzards. Hell, the lass had only been workin’ here three months, and from the moment she walked through that door I knew she should be mine, that she would be mine. Those jean clad legs were long and amazin’ could probably wrap entirely around my waist, and don’t get me started on those eyes!! I could stare into them for hours and be completely content.

Her laugh just brought me out of my thoughts. Tig had just told her some of his cheesy pickup lines tha’ never work. “Dinna bore the lass Tig, she’s got work ta do” I called sliding my empty glass toward her. She gave Tig a smile which made me hate the fucker even more as she walked toward me. “Another Guinness then”? She asked looking at the clock. She knew I never drank this early unless I was in a foul mood, which today I was, thanks to the horndogs at the other end of the bar.

“You know I bet I could get Y/N in my dorm by the end of the night if I really put the Trager charm out on her” Tig told Juice as they worked on an old Chevy that needed more work than it was worth. “Not if I get to her first Tig, besides, I’m pretty sure her standards are higher than you” Juice laughed as he dodged the wrench that went flying his way. “Alrigh’ that’s enough ye muppets! Go find that wrench Juice, I’m not gonna hear Jax’s mouth about tool prices again” I bitched. Not liking the way they were talking about Y/N. “The lass isna a whore and ye best remember that”

“You okay Filip,” Y/N asked as she handed me my fifth beer of the evening. She was giving me that look of a concerned Old Lady. God, I wish she actually meant it. “Aye lass, jus’ had a rough day” She nodded, wiping down the bar in front of me. “If you need to talk, or let off some steam I’m here okay? You know I’m not like the rest of these gossip queens”. Oh, I know that fer sure lass, ye lips are tighter than ye’ shirt. Which is showing off some amazing views if I must say so. Dammit Chibs, stop thinking to yerself, your not a terrified lad for Christ sakes! I nodded. “Thanks, Lass. Would ye mind getting me a shot please”? She gave me the worried look again but nodded. Y/N slid the shot down the bar to me and went to check on the other guys, who were now bombarding her with more questions.

“Hey Y/N, what’s your favorite flower” Juice was giving her the puppy dog eyes as she grabbed his empty bottle and threw it in the trash. She loves daisies ye Muppet. “Well if you must know I love Daisies” her voice rang in my ear. A shit eating grin spread across my lips as I sipped my beer. I had left Daisies at the bar for her a little over a week ago. In fact, they were still in the vase, withered, and a little yellow around the edges, but she still had them. “I’ll have to remember that the next time I’m in town” Tig joked as he stood up from the bar. Ye better forget it as soon as you hit the can, Trager.

“You still doing okay down here” Y/N was right in front of me. I hadn’t even seen the lass walk up. Get ye shite together man. “Aye, love, just unwinding. Are ye doing okay? Want me ta tell ‘em to get lost” I nodded toward the end of the bar. Please let me tell them to get lost. She smiled at me and I thought my heart was going to burst. I loved her dimples. Ye did anythin’ ye could to make her smile the first month she was here ya arse. “No, they aren’t bothering me, besides, it’s my job ya know? You want anything else”? Are ye on the list. “Yeah lass, how about some more Jameson”? She nodded, grabbing the empty shot glasses in front of me. I still saw the worry in her eyes. All three of them. The lass dinnae have three eyes! You’re just drunk ye bugger. Will ye shut up, I’m nae drunk, and ye are getting on me nerves. “Here ya go Chibs. You feeling okay? Your face is a little red. She reached out and put her hand on my forehead like a mother would do a sick child. Her cool hands felt amazin’’ on my skin. Ye should go down a little lower lass. Dammit Chibs quit talking to me. Leave me alone to watch out for Y/N. She removed her hand and looked into my eyes. “I think you’ve had enough Chib’s but I can’t tell you what to do”. Oh yes, ye could and I would obey every order. “Nae, lass I’m good. Another shot would be lovely, though. Or ye could just bring the bottle.” There’s that look again. I’m not a child lass, I can handle the whiskey. I’ve been drinking the shite since I was seventeen.

Two more shots were placed in front of me. Smart choice love, I don need alcohol poisinin’ tonight. Tig’s voice once again filled the atmosphere of the clubhouse. Coming to stand beside Chibs’ he placed his hands on his brother’s shoulder. “The beds calling my name brother”. Better be all that’s calling yer name. “You sure you’re okay Chibby? You seem a little off today”. “Yeah brother, I’m fine, jus’ being lost in me thoughts and enjoying a drink or ten”. Tig laughed at me. Asshat. “A drink or thirty is more a like it. Sleep good brother. Oh, and don’t let Y/N forget to lock up”. My head turned toward the opposite end of the bar. Everyone else had gone to bed at some point or another. Leaving me and Y/N at the bar by ourselves. “Aye” was all I could tell Tig. I was concentrating on making the room stop spinning.

Y/N was down grabbing the empty bottles and glasses off of the bar, and taking them over to the sink. Feeling lonely now that all the talking had died down, I got to my feet and stumbled down to a chair closer to her. Before I had moved three feet, my boots were getting caught up in god knows what.

Fuckin boots, tryin to embarrass me in front of the lass.

That’s when Y/N moved around the bar and wrapped her arms around my waist. “Come on champ, let’s get you to bed”. Her sweet voice was right on my shoulder. Hell, I knew I was a good foot taller than her.

Fucking Sasquatch. No, that was Opie’s nickname, tall bastard

“Ye taking me to bed love”? I asked as I slung my arm over her shoulder. “Well, I don’t need you passing out at the bar. I don’t think you would be too happy with me if you woke up with a crick in your neck”. I laughed, “Lass, if ye were the one to wake me up I’d be happier than a fig in shite”. “What the hell does a fig have to do with shit, Filip,” she asked as I lost my balance. Grabbing onto the wall for support, I stopped. “What are ye talking about a fig. I said a pig in shite”

There’s that Old Lady look again.

“You said fig in shit Filip, Not pig.” “Nah lass, I said pig. I think you’re a little drunk. Ye been sneaking shots when we weren’t lookin’”

There’s that smile again. This time that rotten Juice hasn’t had anythin’ to do with it. It’s all ye Filip. “I think I let you have to much. Don’t you have to work in the morning”? Shaking my head was a huge mistake. Not only was the hallway spinning, but my stomach as well. My body was going to hate me in the morning. “I jus’ want ye to be happy, ye know that right lass” Now the Old Lady look was the confused, what the fuck is he going on about look. It’s now or never Filip, tell the lass, then go pass out so ye wont remember her turning ya down. Christ ye really need to stop talking to yerself’. Folks gonna’ tink’ ye’ve gone mad”.

I stood up to what I thought was my full height, the wall helping me keep my balance, along with the beautiful lady to my left. “Daisies. Daisies are ye favorite flower. Teal, your favorite color, and ye take your coffee with milk and sugar. “Ye are all the time reading on that fangeled e-reader thing, and ye smile so much at those fictional bastards. In the mornin’ when you think no one us up yet, ye sing Stone Temple Pilots, and Flogging Molly. Ye love any movie done by that Tim Burton fucker, but that one with the singin’ skeleton is your favorite, and ye know all the words. Even the ones not in the songs. Ye prefer cats to dogs, and ye’ love when it rains. Which hardly ever happens here.” She was giving me a look. One I didn’t even know how to describe. At the moment I was trying to figure out which of her faces to look at. “Sounds like you have been doing your research Filip”. I leaned back and rested my head against the wall. “Aye, well, that’s what ye do when ye love someone”. I felt her stiffen beside me. Fuck did you think that or say that?

“You love me”. It was a statement. Not a question. Ye done dug your grave lad, may as well jump in it. “Aye, I do love ye. That’s why I was drinkin all day. Tig and those other fuckers, want ye in their beds, but they dinna love ya. They want yer’ body sure, but not yer’ mind or ye heart. Not like I do”. She was standing in front of me now. Here it comes, she’s gonna smack ya then leave ye on the floor. Her hand came up to my face alright. But she didn’t slap me. Instead she ran her thumb over my scar, then moved her hand down to my neck.

“Your favorite whiskey is Jameson. Beer is Guinness. You don’t care if everyone hears you singing, even if we can’t understand the words.You love this club and your brothers more then anything. Tig is your best buddy, even though some days you regret that decision, and when you think I’m not looking, you like to steal glances at my ass. You left me teal daisies, and a gift card to my favorite bookstore last week, and didn’t think I would recognize your scribble on the note.”

Shocked. I was fucking shocked. “Looks like ye have been doing some research yerself, ye cheeky little minx”. Put ye arms around her waist. Girls love that ye know. “Well that’s what you do when you love someone. You pick up on their little quirks, and above all, you don’t tell them they have been talking to themselves out loud all night for the whole club to hear”. Fuck I was really talking out loud. “Yes you were really talking out loud. I’m glad you like my tight jeans, and the view my low cut shirt gives you. I give you the old lady stare because I worry about you.” I hung my head. “Ye must think Im bat shite crazy dont ye”? She laughed. “No Filip, I just think your extremely drunk and need to lie down. Come on, lad, we can figure out our new relationship in the mornin’”. “That was the worst Scottish accent I have ever heard” She helped me stand up as the words left my mouth. “Well, hopefully you remember all this in the morning and you can teach me how to do a proper one”.

#sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fan fiction #chibs telford #tig trager #juice oritz

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