#i don't want nick to “fix” him I want nick to work on himself

[chaos0pikachu]

idk maybe I'm wildin but maybe Boston's whore ways don't need to be fixed. Maybe Boston's flaws have nothing to do with being a ho. Maybe he doesn't need to be "fixed" or "tamed" by Nick into monogamy. but idk idk maybe I'm wildin

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝟱 𝗖𝗨𝗧𝗘 𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗧𝗟𝗘 𝗠𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗦

　　　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Chris is deeply in love with Y/N and isn't ashamed to show it; OR, 5 cute little moments between Chris and Y/N.

WARNING: Making out (4).

REQUESTED?: Yes, by @ecliphttlunar, @smileymilee and anons.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

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1. Surprise on tour

A mixture of nervousness and euphoria coursed freely through Chris's veins as he prepared to enter the stage. The boy discovered after his first tour alongside his brothers that the sensations of being on a stage, surrounded by people who adore him, were very similar to the sensation of an orgasm. And he loved it.

As soon as the lights came up and the opening song started playing, he found himself fully immersed in the energy of the crowd.

While he and his brothers went through their usual fan interactions, Chris couldn't get Y/N out of his mind. He wanted her to be there with him, sharing this special moment with him and his brothers.

When it was time to take the break to talk to the fans again, Chris took a few seconds to survey the crowd in front of him, sweeping his blue eyes over each head he saw.

Until he founded her.

He frowned automatically, squinting his eyes into thin lines to try and see better, quickly realizing that it wasn't his mind playing tricks on him, Y/N was really there.

"Wait! Wait, can I- Oh my God." Chris interrupted Nick, who was speaking into his own microphone, raising his right hand towards his brother and holding it in the air, telling him to shut up silently. "Baby? Is that... Is that really you?"

Y/N - who was surrounded by fans who recognized her the moment she appeared there - felt her cheeks take on a reddish hue almost instantly, her eyes filling with tears from being able to interact in person with Chris after so many weeks apart.

The girl knew he couldn't hear her even if she screamed, so she just nodded, a huge smile decorating her face.

"Is Y/N here?" Matt's voice sounded over the speaker, his body moving closer to his brother's as he tried to find her in his line of sight. “Oh, hey, Y/N!”

"Guys, my amazing girlfriend, Y/N, is here with us tonight!" Chris shouted into the microphone, raising his free hand and waving his fingers in the air in euphoria, holding himself back from jumping in place.

The crowd erupted in applause and cheers as Chris explained how Y/N wasn't going on tour with them because of her studies. His voice could barely hide his excitement when talking about her, the volume having a constant fight with the loud volume of the fans' screams.

"Wow, it feels like I haven't seen you in weeks." Chris teased, throwing a wink her way.

Nick's laugh was heard right next to him, his voice echoing through the speaker with a random comment that Chris didn't try to understand, his eyes fixed on his girl as his heart overflowed with love.

"You look prettier than ever, babe." Chris flirted, his tongue escaping between his lips and wetting them as his ears were filled again by the euphoric screams of the crowd.

Y/N could only laugh out loud in nervousness and shyness, her red cheeks glowing under the colored lights. Some fans around her made funny comments about the situation, joking - or not - about how they wanted to be in her place.

It was safe to say that the night of the show was filled with comments and flirtations from Chris directed at Y/N, the boy having to hold himself back for long minutes to not run down the stage towards his girl arms.

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2. Mispronounciation

"Is that açaí, Nick?" Chris's question caught Y/N's attention, who took her eyes off the nugget shelves she was analyzing in one of the freezers a few steps away from the triplets, now focusing on them.

"Did I hear açaí?" Her voice echoed in excitement, her hands quickly grabbing the package of nuggets that she liked the most before returning to the boys, placing it inside the cart with the other frozen products before standing next to Nick, analyzing the container in his hands. "Oh, it is! I want it, please?"

"Of course, we'll take it." Nick quickly responded, nodding his head as he turned, facing the cart and allowing the freezer door to close behind his back.

"Can we have condensed milk and milk powder to put in it? Oh, oh, and banana too!" The girl pleaded, her voice full of excitement as she clasped her hands in front of her chest, raising her eyes towards Chris and widening them slightly.

"Sure, babe..." Chris nodded almost instantly, unable to say no to his girl. "I still don't understand how she can have açaí with condensed milk and milk powder." He muttered only for the camera to catch it, failing miserably as his tone came out loud enough for Y/N and his brothers to hear it.

"Hey! It's the only right way to have açaí, okay?" Y/N argued, rolling her eyes playfully and turning back to the cart, arranging the container next to the other frozen products, as she did with the nuggets, being the type of girl that liked to organize her groceries.

"Guys, look! It's prepackaged, but we did find some asparagus." Matt interrupted the silence seconds after, rescuing the medium package of asparagus and quickly showing it to the lens with a proud smile on his face.

"I love aspargos so much. Your cooking will be the best in this series you guys are making, Matt." Y/N murmured, smiling big and pointing with her chin at the package while Matt put it back on its place.

"What did you say?" Nick asked with a frown. Being a little away from the three made it difficult for him to understand what they were saying, and it worsened with her pronunciation.

"Um... aspargos?" The girl repeated, frowning in confusion.

"The pronunciation is wrong, babe. You say it like s-par-gus." Chris corrected gently, lowering the camera slightly and watching her with caring eyes.

He loved the little pronunciation mistakes his girl made. He understood that she was still learning English and that her Brazilian accent could make it difficult to say one word and another, and all that made him fall in love again every day.

"Oh." Y/N bit her lower lip lightly, feeling her cheeks heat up in embarrassment, receiving an encouraging smile from Matt, who watched them silently while Nick was still collecting products from that aisle.

"Hey, it's okay, pretty girl. It's just one word, let's try it together, okay?" Chris assured her, handing the camera to Matt and approaching his girlfriend, taking her hands and squeezing her fingers gently.

The girl nodded, maintaining her eyes on her boyfriend's face before focusing them on his lips, watching him saying the word again before trying it herself.

"S-par-gus. Asparagus." She repeated slowly, trying to imitate the pronunciation and accent Chris had shown her, finally saying it correctly.

"That's it, babe. You did it!" Chris smiled big, his voice echoing louder than before and euphoria exuding from his body. He quickly pulled her into a big hug, sealing the right side of her forehead with his lips for long seconds.

extra - comments:

"It's so incredible to see how Y/N has evolved every day with her english pronunciation 🥺"

"the way Chris is patient and kind in correcting her 😭"

"Chris helping Y/N pronounce the word in the right way was the best thing I've seen today 😔✋🏻"

"I agree with her, açaí with condensed milk and milk powder is the best thing in the world 🤭"

"have a boyfriend who supports you like Chris does for Y/N 😫😫"

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3. Euphoric mood

It was a busy day for Chris and his brothers. They were rushing from one appointment to another, trying to keep up with all the demands of the channel and their brands. However, what would normally be a busy day became even more chaotic due to Chris's uncontrollable euphoria.

From the moment he woke up, Chris was in full hyperactivity mode. He talked nonstop, jumping from one topic to another with dizzying rapidity. His brothers were beginning to get irritated by his incessant energy, unable to keep up with the frantic pace of his thoughts.

"Chris, bro, you need to calm down a little." Matt muttered, frowning as he tried to keep up with his brother's rapid-fire conversation.

"No, wait! I spoke to a friend who is going to medical school, Josh, you know him." Chris ignored him, continuing to speak without slowing down, his words coming out jumbled. "And if you had a broken bone or a sprain, you'd know already, you know? It's been so long since-"

"Chris, slow down." Nick shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb, feeling overwhelmed by the torrent of information coming out of Chris's mouth since hours before.

Chris stopped abruptly, looking at his brothers with a mixture of surprise and confusion.

"What? I'm just trying to help!"

Matt sighed, straightening in his seat on the couch, trying to find the right words to express his frustration.

"Chris, we understand you're trying to help me with my ankle, but you're driving us crazy with all this energy. We need a moment."

Before Chris could say anything, Y/N - who was in the kitchen preparing an afternoon snack for them - turned from her place and walked slowly into the living room, her hands holding a metal tray with the food, watching the scene with understanding eyes. She had noticed Chris's agitated state since the beginning of the day and knew it was time to intervene.

"Chris, honey." She called softly, placing the tray on the television stand and approaching him. "Why don't you sit down for a bit and relax? You're stressing yourself out."

"But baby, Matt has been in pain for days and doesn't want to take care of the problem, so I'm coming with the solution." Chris directed his gaze at her, frowning and crossing his arms like a child.

"I know, my love, and I think the boys understand that too. Why don't we watch something for a while? Your day was tiring as well. Maybe a little rest will help everyone, okay?" Y/N smiled gently, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

She guided him to the couch and made him sit with his back against the soft backrest, sitting next to him and raising her right hand, taking it to his head, stroking his hair gently with her long nails. Chris felt instantly calmer, his frantic mind slowing down.

Nick and Matt watched in surprise and amusement as Y/N calmed Chris with her simple presence and caring gesture. They never got tired of seeing the gigantic effect the girl had on their brother.

"Are you a magician or something?" Nick teased, earning a middle finger from Chris and a laugh from Y/N in response before finally grabbing his lunch from the tray.

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4. Making out session

Chris and Y/N were lying together in their bed, wrapped in a soft blanket as they watched an old romantic comedy movie on the television. The soft light from the screen illuminated their faces as they snuggled together, enjoying the tranquility and intimacy of the moment.

As the movie progressed, Chris felt his heart beating faster as his closeness to Y/N seemed to be more palpable. No matter how many years they had been together, Chris always felt like it was still the beginning of the relationship, or, as they say, the honeymoon phase.

His blue eyes found her side profile, admiring the softness of her features and the sparkle in her eyes as she was absorbed in the story of the couple in front of them.

Without thinking, the boy moved his hand, reaching for hers and intertwining their fingers. Y/N smiled softly at the gesture, lightly squeezing his hand, conveying comfort and affection without saying a word.

The girl turned her face towards him, feeling his eyes burning into her for long minutes, ready to question him if he was still interested in the story, but her words caught in her throat when she saw the intensity of his gaze.

She knew that look.

Their eyes remained connected for long seconds, the sound of the television becoming muffled to their ears. With one smooth movement, Chris slid his free hand up to Y/N's face, caressing her warm cheek with his fingers in an almost ghost touch. He felt the softness of her skin under his, losing himself in the comforting sensation.

Y/N sighed softly, closing her eyes and pending her head against his hand, enjoying the gentle affection. In one quick movement, Chris got closer to her face, leaning towards her. Their noses met lightly, the boy caressing the area lightly in an eskimo kiss before adjusting his position, their lips finally meeting in a slow and gentle kiss, filled with tenderness and desire.

They explored each other gently, their kiss slowly gaining a rhythms as they gave in to the intimacy of the moment. There was no rush, just the sweet feeling of being together.

Chris's warm tongue caressed her lower lip in a silent request for entrance, which was quickly granted, their tongues intertwining in a wet and skillful kiss.

The boy raised his free hand to the back of Y/N's head, his thumb pressing the tip of her jaw, caressing the hot and flushed skin tenderly, feeling drunk by the natural scent of her body as they surrendered to the heat of the moment. Their hearts beat in unison, a symphony of love and desperation.

In one swift movement, Y/N moved under the blanket that covered their legs, strategically climbing into his lap and sitting on his gray sweatpants covered thighs, her legs wrapping around his hips securely. She moved her hands to his shoulders, tilting her torso slightly and deepening the kiss with the new position.

External sounds disappeared for the two, only the sound of their rapid and choppy breaths echoing in their ears, creating a warm bubble around them.

Chris's hands traveled over Y/N's body in a slow and sensual way, finding home on her hips and tracing imaginary shapes with the tip of his fingers above the thin fabric of her panties, lightly squeezing the area, a low moan escaping the girl's throat.

When the air began to run out, they reluctantly separated, their eyes closed while their tongues still savored the fresh taste of each other that predominated their mouths. Y/N leaned her forehead against his, lightly pressing their noses together as she caught her breath.

When her eyes finally opened, her first sight was Chris's swollen-lipped smirk.

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5. Trying to match my boyfriend eating

Y/N's phone camera was already open, and the device rested on the nightstand on her side of the bed, propped up against the pink lamp so that the screen pointed towards her and, consequently, Chris, who would sit next to her.

The girl smiled at the front camera after clicking the red record button, settling back down on the mattress, waiting for Chris, who would return soon with the burgers they had ordered for delivery to eat while they watched a movie.

The sound of the door opening echoed through the room some minutes after, and the girl quickly lifted her gaze towards the source, smiling widely when she saw her boyfriend with the large paper bag in one of his hands.

She quickly took it from him, opening it in one quick movement and taking out the burgers, fries, and sodas, individually separating the ones that were hers and the ones that were his.

"Hungry, babe?" Chris asked with a smile in his voice, a nasal laugh following his sentence as he settled into bed next to her, retrieving his burger quickly.

"You have no idea." The girl murmured, taking advantage of the fact that Chris was unwrapping his lunch as if it were the most precious thing in the world to quickly look at her phone, winking at the camera, unwrapping her own burger.

Y/N wasted no time, noticing from the corner of her eyes her boyfriend already taking the first bite, quickly following him. She tried to bite off a piece in the same size as his, but her attempt was futile, only getting half of it, which was already too much for her.

Chris chewed the piece without any problems, leaning forward slightly and reaching for the remote control that was in the middle of the bed, quickly picking it up and clicking the play button, resuming the movie where they stopped before the food arrived, his mouth working on taking another bite without even looking at his burger.

Y/N's eyes widened, forcing herself to swallow what was still in her mouth so she could take more, this time a little bigger than the last. She found it difficult to chew as quickly as Chris did, closing her eyes tightly as she tried, futilely, to concentrate on swallowing as quickly as possible.

A cough escaped her throat, muffled by her closed lips, but catching the boy's attention, who looked up at her with his brow furrowed in confusion.

His blue eyes widened comically at the sight of her cheeks inflated because of the food and trying to chew, a loud laugh escaping his lips.

"Babe, what the fuck are you doing? Slow down." The brunette adverted, wrapping his burger again and leaving it on the bed - away from his legs so as not to run the risk of crushing it.

He leaned toward her, patting her back lightly with his right hand while his left reached for her Diet Coke, touching the end of the straw to her closed lips.

Chris watched her carefully and with worried eyes, waiting for her to swallow the food, finally taking a few slow sips of the sweet drink.

"I'm sorry." Y/N whispered, a small smile decorating her face along with her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "It was supposed to be a TikTok, but you eat too quickly."

The boy shook his head in confusion, running his eyes around the room and quickly finding his girl's phone recording them.

"Your food will run away or something?"

"Shut up."

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @ksskianshd @soimightlikeoldmen69 @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @soso-scarlettolivia @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @lvrsturn @freshsturns @h3arts4harry @patscorner @strnilolo @bernardsbendystraws @mattsneezing @poetatorturadaa @meg-sturniolo @orangeypepsi

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[sixtsposts]

Halloween Party - Bucky Barnes

TW: sexy bunny, Bucky turned on, zootopia costumes, kind of grumpy x sunshine?

"No", Bucky's voice is serious and his eyes stay stuck on his motorcycle that he's fixing.

"But why?" You whine. "It'll be super fun," you insist, looking down at Bucky's crouch form.

You had tried to convince your boyfriend to come with you at the Avengers' Halloween party all day. But it seems like he really despise dressing up.

"I said no," he repeats and sigh loudly.

Bucky put his wrench on the floor and gets up, wiping his hands on a cloth you had brought him.

"I don't know why you're being so stubborn about it Buck, it's just a party with our friends," you roll your eyes.

He takes a step toward you, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth now as he crosses his arms in front of his chest.

"Because I refuse to be dressed up as a dog, doll. This is not happening," he chuckles.

You frown your eyebrows and get closer to him, "This is not a dog, it's a fox and his name is Nick."

You wanted for you and Bucky to be dressed as the characters from Zootopia, Judy and Nick. Though Bucky didn't seem to be very fond of this idea.

"Yeah well I'm not putting any tail, doll," he raise his eyebrows, seriously.

You narrow your eyes at him and cross your arms, mimicking his gesture. "You're no fun Sergeant," you make a fake pout, trying to convince him.

"And you're being a brat," he scoffs as he return to work on his bike. You sigh and leave the parking, trying to figure out a way to make Bucky dress up with you.

Later in the day you were in your shared bedroom, fixing your costume as Bucky enter the room. You're in front of your full size mirror, adjusting your bunny ears headband. Bucky smirks when he sees you and he walk to you, hugging you from behind. You hum when he burries his face in the crook of your neck. You pass your hand in his hair, softly ruffling them.

"Doll, I don't know what I prefer between seeing you dressed as a police officer or as a bunny," he mumble against your skin before living a kiss on your throat.

You giggle softly and bite your lips. "I need to finish to get dressed Buck," you huff when he growls and let you go reluctantly.

"So you're going to that party, huh?" He asks with a raise eyebrows.

"Course I am," you reply as you turn to look at him. "I don't need you to do everything baby," you add with a smirk as you go to the bathroom.

"But there's no fox to your bunny, doll," he says as he follows you into the bathroom.

"Actually," you begin with a fake innocence, "Peter has agreed to match my costume," you smile without looking at Bucky.

Though you can feel him tense at your words, Bucky is very jealous and he assume it totally.

"Peter, huh?" He says with a low voice as he appears behind you in the bathroom's mirror.

Bucky's staring at you in the mirror with dark eyes as you put on your make up. You glance at him with fake innocent eyes.

"Yeah Peter, why?" You ask him with doe-eyes.

"Peter..." Bucky repeat with a low voice, looking around him as he pass a hand through his hair. He nods his head, "Peter," he said again before leaving the room quikly with a determined look.

You finish your make up with a grin on your face, knowing that you had finally found your date for tonight's party.

You therefore spend the night at the arm of your fox boyfriend and, despite Sam jokes about his ears and tail, Bucky got through the night a wide smile on his face. He can't help it, he's just so fond of you. Especially when you're dressed as a rabbit police officer.

"Y'know I could get us to those," he grins at you as he brush his fingers over one of your fake bunny ear.

"Yeah?" You give him a kiss, "Well maybe I could use them a little longer tonight..." you whisper in his ear with a teaseful smile a lustful look.

Bucky wet his lips and caught a little, trying to compose himself. "Yeah well, I'm feeling a little tired already. What about going back to the room now, huh?" He tells you as he tugs your hand.

"As you wish Sergeant."

You hush a chuckle as you follow him through the crowd of people.

[liiixsturniolos]

in desperate need of a matt angst fic with a happy ending

like maybe you guys fight because he’s been an ass all day and once he makes you cry he feels bad and makes it up to you. like something suuuuper angsty

you ask, I deliver 🙏

౨ৎ Flowers ౨ৎ

dad!matt sturniolo x reader warnings!: angst, fluff

summary: Matts giving you attitude all day, until he realises how wrong he was, apologises and makes it up to you.

Matt almost storms into the room, his boots slamming against the ground.

"Matt. Will you stop stomping? I just put Addy to bed!" You scold him.

He ignores you and walks past you as if you weren't there.

"Matt!?" You yell.

"Fuck! What?" He screams back.

Your eyes widen in shock at the way he spoke to you.

"Matt? What's wrong..?" You lower your voice, tilting your head slightly, questioning him

"Nothing, God." He scoffs, walking away from you, into the backyard.

You slump down onto the couch. turned on the TV and ignored whatever Matt was doing in the yard, just to be disrupted by your daughter Addy's cries. You lift yourself up from the couch and go to settle her back to sleep. Once she falls asleep again, you tip-toe back down the stairs.

Matt comes back into the house. You turn your head to look at him. His face, still angry and irritated.

"Where are those new pegs I bought?" He grunts, raiding the kitchen looking for them.

"Pegs?" You ask.

"Yeah, pegs for my bike?" He says In a dull tone, as If you should've known what he meant.

"Oh, I'm not sure. Did you check the garage?" You suggest

"Obviously, I checked the garage." He mumbles.

Your face goes red, and your jaw tenses up. Who does he think he is talking to? Does he think your fucking stupid? You've done nothing to piss him off, but for some reason, he's taking all his anger out on you.

"Matt, what's all this attitude about?" You ask, your eyes glaring at him.

He doesn't even look up at you to respond but keeps opening up kitchen cupboards looking for his motorcycle pegs. "What attitude?"

"Matt, are you kidding. You're talking to me as if I'm dumb, and you ignored me earlier." You bark back at him.

"God, stop nagging me.." he says, instantly regretting it and looking up at your face in fear of how you'll respond.

You sigh in disbelief. Roll your eyes, and walk upstairs to your daughters room.

"Shit..." Matt whispers to himself. He knew how he was acting. He knew he was in the wrong.

He flung his boots off and ran up the stairs after you. You see him follow after you and just scoff in response, lifting your daughter up out of her crib.

"I'm sorry. I know I was an asshole. Fuck. I shouldn't have been. Just my bike was pissing me off. I can't seem to fix it, and Nick and I argued yesterday. That's still playing on my mind. I'm sorry. Kay? I was rude." He blurts out, remorseful, raising his eyebrows and looking at you, hoping you'll forgive him.

"Okay. Just tell me what's wrong next time. You don't gotta' be so secretive about what's making you mad." You advise him, slowly rocking Addy back to sleep.

"Can I take her?" He asks you. "You deserve to sit down a while, I know I've been in the garage all day. It's my turn." He says softly.

"Yeah, of course." You smile sweetly, heading downstairs to go and finally watch TV.

Matt stays in Addys room, holding her and gently rocking her while singing to her quietly. When she falls asleep again, he places her back into her crib and strolls down the stairs.

"I'm gonna go out to the store. Do you want anything?" He whispers to you.

"Yeah, chocolate?" You smirk

"Of course." He says.

Twenty minutes later, you hear the car pull up on the driveway, and Matts key is unlocking the door.

"Hey darlin!" Matt shouts from the door.

"Hey!" You respond.

He walks over, hands you your favourite chocolate, and a bouquet of flowers.

"Aw! Thank you, sweetie!" You exclaim

He hugs you tight and lays soft kisses along your neck.

You let out quiet gasps as he works his way down with the kisses, tossing the flowers in your hands to the side...

part two..? if you enjoyed this, please interact! (comments, likes, reblogs, are all super appreciated) thank you! comment on any post and ask to be on my taglist and ill add you!

taglist: @matthewsroses @chrislilcumslvt @pvssychicken @1-d0nt-w4nn4-b3-m3-4nym0r3 @ivysturnss @mattsbitchh

[starboye]

pairing: nick nelson x male reader

summary: did nick really ever love you and charlie or was it just some sick game

warnings: angst, crying, breaking up, cursing, mentions of smut, happy ending for nick and charlie

"ch-charlie wait" nick stammers trying to explain the situation as he jumps out of bed and messily puts on his pants and shirt "no I dont want to hear it nick" charlies says walking out of the party with tears running down his face "charlie just listen to us" you yell out "NO... I thought of you as a friend y/n, and nick I really thought you were gonna be different but turns out you're no different then ben" charlies brokenly says holding back from crying his eyes out.

"what's happening here" tao asks walking out of the house to confront the ruckus "nothing tao go back inside" nick says pushing him away "no what's going on" tao questions stepping over to charlie to consult him "I just wanna go home" charlie brushes the situation off to get tao to calm down "okay ill walk you home" tao says giving you and nick the stink eye before walking away.

"shit shit shit" nick says beating himself up internally "this is all your fault" he says obviously heart broken "I did nothing, you were the one that wanted me so badly" you retort "fuck this" nick curses before he begins walking home, after that day you, nick, and charlie barely spoke to one another, aside from nick trying his hardest to get charlie to have a talk with him but charlie denied the request every time.

no matter how many apology letters nick sent in the mail or the abundant amount of flowers he bought charlie never gave him the time of day, not wanting to get roped back into false feelings for nick "I should've just listened to tao and dropped that stupid crush" charlie thought to himself everyday when he saw the gifts left by nick, and you tried to settle things with charlie but how could he when you slept with nick the love of his life.

and nick had shown up at your door a few times, wanting you to just hold him and tell him everything is gonna work out but you knew that one; it was gonna turn into you too fucking ac is your room or two; nick trauma dumping on you the whole night, but you still took the risk, you let him in and in the end you fell for it, a simple hug that turned into a kiss which turned into all night fucking, but you couldn't stop, you felt yourself falling for nick, the same guy you said was just a hook up.

you knew nick wanted you and you wanted nick but he was meant for charlie so the next time he came to your house in need of a shoulder to cry on you had to stop him "nick we can't do this anymore" you say stopping him from coming in "what, why" nick says furrowing his eyebrows "because i don't wanna get roped into you sick web anymore" you say folding your arms.

"but i love you" nick says with a plea "no you don't love me you love the idea of me, you love that i could ride your dick without a second thought or i could make you feel sexual things that you've never felt before but you never loved me for me" you say as a tear drops from your eyes "y/n please i need you right now" nick begs now.

"no what you need to do is go fix your broken relationship with your boyfriend" you say before closing the door, nick watched as the door close and felt your harsh but true words sink into his mind and he did exactly what you said, he went to charlies house and poured his heart out to him, every word hitting charlie deep in the heart.

"i do love you charlie but i just think there's some things we need to work on if we want this to last" nick ended off the speech looking away in embarrassment, charlie stood shocked for a couple seconds before quickly wrapping his arms around nick, hugging him tightly and telling nick he loves him too.

the next time you saw them charlie was wrapped around nicks arm comfortably, and it hurt you a little bit seeing the man you grew feeling for ended up going back to his ex but you knew iit was the best for them, if they didn't get back together you knew it would've been all your fault for the sadness that would've ensued, but that didn't matter now, you loved that your friends were finally happy

taglist: @mailmango @ghostking4m @spermeboy

[imagine-silk]

Hello! May I request fallout 4 companions (Nick especially) with Sole who shares the bare minimum of information about themselves? Not because Sole doesn’t trust them, they really enjoy theirs companions company. Perhaps they busy themselves so they don’t have to think about all the little and big things they miss. (I bet Codsworth would find pristine things that Sole would miss (like a favorite movie, vinyl, or comic?))

Sorry if its not something you’re interested in doing right now. The ask kinda came out as a ramble, I’m lacking sleep haha. Thanks again for considering my request!

》Honestly one of my favorite kinds of characters.

【Cait】 She doesn't appreciate it. Her contract was traded to some random weirdo who barely says anything. It took three days before the topic of your name came up. And two weeks to know what you were looking for, who. But in return you don't ask what she does on her own time or what she's done. It feels like you don't mind rather than you don't care and that makes her feel seen. It stays between you unsaid in her eyes.

♡If romanced she doesn't push for any information. You'll tell her if it's important. People think it's weird the two of you to not share about yourselves like normal people but you're happy, that's all that matters.

【Codsworth】 It's just like it was before. He, unlike the others, already knows you. He knows you very well. Not only did you do an intake for daily preferences but he also served you for a few years. While you're out and about you'll do something or say something that sounds like no information to others or out of context and he'll answer, "Just as I was thinking as well." While you camp with some of the other companions he does chores the way you like without needing to ask, making comment on recent events, which makes them jealous for sure. He digs up things from the house he preserved or found and fixes them up brand new before presenting it to you. Songs you liked or wanted to hear. Movies and shows and comics. Clothes pressed for you and the furniture is redone the way it used to be. He knows you and wants to keep it that way.

【Curie】 Low-key doesn't care. She has one thing on her mind and that's her own goal to better medicine. Finding things to do that is all she needs of you. When she goes to be a synth her feelings overwhelm her and you guide her through that. She's never ever asked about you. She'll tell you about what she's feeling but never thinks to ask what you feel. In her defense, is doesn't understand the nuance of social interactions. And to her credit, it works for the both of you.

♡If she's romanced she realizes she wants to know what you feel and if it's the same as her. She's mostly interested in what you feel now rather than what your opinion is in the past or isn't currently relevant.

【Danse】 Right away he doesn't care for it. A mercenary who talks very little can be dangerous. But you followed orders well and are a damn good shot. The way he asks is more like demanding. It was all for a vetting process but still rude. After the intake he didn't care about your lack of openness. Didn't matter to him personally. After BB he suddenly regrets not knowing you. He was so rude and dismissed you as another faceless soldier and you saved him, from the Brotherhood and himself. Now he wants to know you.

♡If romanced he makes effort to know you, like really know you. For a long time he refused individuality so his own sense of self is not great. But you know yourself and make no attempt to hide it. You are so sure of yourself you don't need to explain. That's one of the things he loves about you.

【Deacon】 He thinks you're like him, that you want to hide in plain sight. As much as he gives that to you he's nosy as fuck and takes every chance to learn about you, mostly from afar. It doesn't take any time at all for him to realize you'll just tell him. Most of them are one word answers. It takes him even less time after that to realize you'll comment on things from before the war especially.

♡If romanced he goes out of his way to show you stuff. Old posters and toys. If you follow my headcanon that he's pre-war, he makes old references and generally adds comments on things to bait your answers.

【Hancock】 He thinks it's pretty cool. "Oh, tall, dark, and handsome/beautiful." He does play twenty questions with you 24/7 and is very happy with your half-answers because an answer is still an answer. Plus he knows at least two other people like you. He is the one who figures out that you just don't have the time or think about talking about yourself rather than purposely keeping secrets the fastest. He knows people so he knows better.

♡If romanced he plays with it. You want a kiss? Tell him what's your favorite color. He'll get on his knees if you tell him what you like about your new home. But honestly he'll do it anyways. All he needs to know is that you want him like he wants you.

【MacCready】 He was more concerned about you putting a bullet in his head while his back was turned. Everyone in the Commonwealth was looking out for number one. So imagine his surprise when you were looking out for your number one and it wasn't you. Not only were you looking for your son but you stopped to help every person who asked for help. Your actions spoke to him in a way your words, he figured, couldn't. You didn't need to help him but you did. You didn't take the caps back. And you killed the gunners the second they turned their guns on him even when they said their beef wasn't with you. It was what you did, not what you told him.

♡If romanced he will ask things. Basic ones are like, "How was your day?" Normal questions that are the peak of domestic life. Then the more personal things. Some sound silly, "What's your favorite color?" But most build off of a quick thing you said in passing, "Wait, you've been to California? What was it like?" He trusts you'll tell him the truth.

【Nick】 As a private detective this simply won't do. He gets it at first, you just need him to find your son, it's business. However, you want him to stay with you after that. It confuses him because you made no indication you like him in the slightest way. He's the second fastest to realize you're not keeping to yourself on purpose. As one of the only ones who are pre-war he's able to get things the others can't. He'll talk about things and give his options and bait you into answering it. That was a common way to get people to talk back then when you were trying to be polite and keep up the conversation, even if the conversation stays a bit thin.

♡If he's romanced he makes fun of the fact you forget to say things about yourself. Don't get it wrong, he makes it clear you don't need to share. He's just poking fun.

【Piper】 This simply won't do. She asks as many question as they come up but she gets depressing short answers. You either give one word answers or say you're not really in the mood, on some occasions you admit you don't know, you never thought about it. It takes a long time for her to stop and that's only because the questions start getting old. And you still feel like a mystery even though you've told her everything.

♡If she's romanced she realizes how much you've told her and pushes it. What is your type? How do your lips feel? Why do you look so good? It becomes playful and light, never serious.

【Preston】 In the beginning he didn't realize he didn't know much about you. He took your help selfishly to get him and his people back on stable ground but you told him you were happy to help. So he takes time to learn about you and give you everything he could possibly help you with. In hopes you would share by yourself he gives things to you without any prompt. It doesn't really work most of the time.

♡If romanced he asks things with hearts in his eyes. He is so lovesick he takes all of your half-answers and files it away in his mind. It hardly matters at that point.

【X6】 It wasn't his mission so he didn't care. You owed him no explanation or justification. Doesn't mean he doesn't question you. He asks why you helped someone, why you stopped for a distraction. And of course you give short answers like, "They needed help." or "I wanted to." Later, after the Institute is gone, he sees how you carry yourself and tries to copy it. Obviously he can't so you help him too. You showed him he can figure himself out by himself and he didn't need you. So he held the same opinion; he doesn't need to know you like that.

♡If romanced he's still comfortable with you keeping things to yourself. It's only after months of being together do you realize he's never asked you a personal question, that you've never shared anything that personal. When you bring that to him he tells you that hardly matters. But seeing you make the effort after that gives him a feeling he can't describe. It's a good feeling he thinks.

[luveline]

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

Steve doesn't really like the holidays, but he likes you. So, he makes some concessions. Rainbow lit, tinsel-covered, pine tree-smelling concessions.

6k words, christmas centric, fem!reader who celebrates christmas, mutual pining, gingerbread houses, mistletoe, ugly sweaters, friends to lovers, idiots in love, allusions to s4.

❆

Steve hates Christmas. He doesn't want to get into it and he won't, not when you love it the way that you do — quietly, and yet every movement hints at your excitement. 

Your hands are basically shaking when he lugs the new box onto the desk. It's adorable. 

"Thank you for doing this," you say, meeting his eyes and sending him one of your too-nice smiles. Kind that makes him nervous and sick and excited all at once. 

"I don't know why you're so eager. They're the same cheese-fests this year as last year," he says.

You lean over the counter enough for him to smell your perfume. "That's not true. You said you have The Christmas Star, right?" 

"Ten whole copies." 

He pulls open the cardboard box and digs for your desired tape. The case is cardstock and crisp with newness, and it squeaks as he pulls it up and displays it against his chest. 

You beam. "Yes. How much? Expensive 'cos it's new?" 

"Not with the employee discount," he says, placing the tape down neatly. 

Your smile turns shy. Steve has always thought you were pretty, in the same way he thinks that grass is green and stars shine at night, but lately you've turned to a sweetness that has his teeth aching if he thinks about it, all manner of terrible emotions flooding his idiot brain. Jealousy, protectiveness, and — he shudders — affection. Even now he's tempted to round the desk and make up an excuse to touch your arms, or your hands. Your face. 

"Thanks, Steve," you say softly. 

"Of course. There has to be one pro to working in this dump, right?" 

"Is it a dump? It looks super clean." 

He hesitates. "We had to fix it up. Holiday decorations are coming in tomorrow." 

"Make that today!" 

You both turn to see Robin struggling out of the back room, two boxes held in her arms and hiding her face. She stumbles to the desk and Steve leaps to help her, unveiling her grinning face. There's a meanness to her eyes that Steve abores. 

"Well, yesterday. Keith says they got here last night, which means today is officially the first day of Family Video Christmas." 

"It's November," Steve says, narrowing his eyes. 

"Thirty first!"

Robin pries open one of the huge boxes and thrusts both hands in unafraid, pulling out streams of green and silver tinsel like festive innards. Her eyebrows jump up. "Nice," she says appreciatively. 

"I almost wish I worked here." 

"You can stay and help," Steve says. 

Your laughter makes his chest hurt. "I can't. I have decorating to do all by myself next door." You straighten your Palace Arcade polo and your black, plain skirt. "Do I look okay?" 

Steve has a terrible lapse in judgement wherein he thinks about telling you exactly how you look, lips pressed together ready to make a 'b' sound, but he stops himself in the nick of time. Friends don't really do that. 

"You look fucking adorable," Robin says, having wrapped the tinsel around her neck in a makeshift scarf. She sparkles as she turns to Steve. "Doesn't she?" 

"Adorable," he says tightly. 

You scratch under your ear. "Thank you.” 

You promise to come back at the end of the day for The Christmas Star and escape before Robin can poke fun at your shyness. 

The door closes behind you and Steve buries his face in his hands. His cheeks are hot. 

"That was pretty bad. Better, though," Robin says, an air of genuineness about her that he knows she doesn't truly possess. 

Steve scrubs a hand through his hair, temper welled to the surface quick and uncomfortable as usual. He pushes it down and turns away from Robin and the glaringly bright Christmas decorations rather than say something snappy that she doesn't strictly deserve. 

"Maybe by Christmas you'll be able to look her in the eye." 

"Maybe by Christmas I'll have friends I actually like." 

"Points for quickness," she cheers. Steve can feel her moving to stand beside him. "But ultimately weak." 

"It could happen." 

"Could it?"

He rolls his eyes and starts to log The Christmas Star under his name for you. Employees get pretty good privileges, like reduced rates and nulled late fees. You could keep it 'til the 25th, if that's what you want. 

Robin drapes tinsel over his shoulders. "I really, genuinely think that, despite your bad posture, your hair, your clothes," — Steve scoffs — "and your dismal taste in movies, she likes you." 

He's so distracted by her (mostly) joking insults that he doesn't quite hear the end. Then, when it sinks in, his incredulity lends itself to a new target. 

"What?" 

"Steve," Robin says flatly. 

"She likes me?" 

"I think so. She's not coming in here every day for me." 

"How should I know? I'm not exactly a good judge of it." 

Robin taps her foot against his. They're overly familiar if not overly affectionate friends, and he relents in his bad mood, pulling the tinsel from his shoulders with a dejected sigh. 

"I doubt it. She was excited about the new movies." Not me. He doesn’t think you'll be back tomorrow.  

"Why aren't you excited?" Robin asks.

"You know I don't like the holidays." His agitation is clear in his annoyed hand gestures, fingers furling and unfurling. "Weeks of torture. Cranky moms walking around like somebody shoved a candy cane up their-" 

"Steve, that's like, ten percent of the holiday season! There's a bazillion other things to like about Christmas." 

He snorts. "Like what?" 

—

Steve doesn't know how she managed it, but Robin has someone orchestrated the older gaggle of their friends to sit down anywhere but next to him. When you arrive, late and full of abashed apologies, the only seat empty is the chair to his right. 

You collapse beside him and the December chill outside follows you. Cold emanates off of your clothes. You peel out of your black denim jacket and press the back of your hand to his. 

"Cold, huh?" you ask. 

He swallows around nothing. "Cold." 

Your touch lingers. If he were your boyfriend, he'd take your cold hands in both of his and blow on them generously. He'd rub your stiff knuckles until they were loose and your fingers limp. 

Robin opens her arms and a half a dozen boxes clatter into the middle of the table, upside down and on their sides. Steve turns his head to read the font, and then promptly sits up. 

"No," he says. 

"Steve," Robin pleads, already turned away to retrieve a wicker basket full of candy. "Don't be a loser." 

"Too late," Eddie says, painted nails digging into the cardboard flap of his box. 

"You don't want to make one?" you ask Steve. 

"Gingerbread houses are a little elementary school, aren't they?" Steve turns to Jonathan imploringly. "You agree, right?" 

"No," Jonathan says with a laugh. "Me and Will still make them every year. El's getting good at them, too." 

"Will made one with a door that opens last year," Nancy says, pride for her boyfriend's brother clear in her pert smirk. 

Steve rolls his eyes. "That's good for him, and I mean it, but why are we doing this? Tell me there's beer, at least." 

"Yes!" Eddie cheers, slapping his thigh. "Harrington, you're finally saying something I can get behind. I have a little something extra in the van, just say the word." 

"There's beer," Nancy says emphatically. 

Eddie pretends to die in his chair. You giggle like crazy at his dramatics and set about opening your box, fanning gingerbread walls and roof panelling out over the table. 

Steve feels old resentment for Eddie bubble up like it never left. He wants to be the one who makes you laugh like that, all sweet and secret like you're trying not to make a fuss but you just can't help it. The resentment fades when you reach across from him and open a second box, laying supplies out in front of him one by one. 

"I think we should be a team," you tell him. 

"That's not fair," Eddie says.

"Can it, Munson-"

"We can all be teams," Robin says, returning with a blessedly cold six pack, three piping bags, and a handful of metal tips. "You two, me and Eddie, Nancy and Jonathan." 

Steve doesn't miss her suggestive eyebrow wiggle, and neither does anybody else. You turn to Steve in confusion. He shakes his head vigorously in a rapid and untrue show of I don't know, arm weaving under yours to bring your attention to the bigger piece of gingerbread. "This is the floor, right?" 

Steve’s surprised by how good of a team you turn out to be. Your gingerbread house takes shape slowly. Steve holds the pieces in place and you apply the icing seams like caulking, smoothing the lines out with your index finger and licking it clean. You’re a picture of happiness, happy jabbering interspersed between singing along to the Christmas songs on the radio and warding off insincere insults sent your way. 

"My grandma can decorate better than that, and she's pushing ninety. She has glaucoma."

“Cut the shit talking, Eddie,” you warn, flicking him with a jellybean. It hits his neck, and his retribution comes in five more aimed at your gingerbread house. 

The sides wobble unsurely.

Steve frosts the roof, assuming it’ll be easy. It isn’t easy at all, and soon any cuteness you’ve made is ruined by his ugly hatching. He winces, then frowns, then glares, eyebrows furrowed in agitation. 

Jonathan and Nancy are the ones to beat. Both nerds, both neat. Jonathan’s an artist and it’s obvious he does this every year, their house made up of pretty white swirls and gem decorated doors and windows. They're bantering quietly, insincere declarations that make Steve jealous — not of Jonathan, exactly, but of their relationship as a whole. They fit together in a way Steve and Nance never had. They’re effortless. 

Robin and Eddie make a good go of it, surprisingly. Steve had expected Eddie to throw the competition before he could lose, and hates to be proven wrong. Dorks combined with too much imagination, their gingerbread house has become a sort of macabre scene with a dead gingerbread man outlined in the snow surrounding, and icing stalagmites rise under the roof’s overhang.

You pull your chair in as close to Steve’s as you can, your knee pressed into his thigh and your elbow glancing off of his bicep every time you place a jellybean.

“There,” you say, pulling back. “That looks awesome, doesn’t it?”

It’s a hot mess. Unbalanced, too much icing on one side of the roof and not enough on the other, you lean back into Steve’s chest, your skin to his skin and your hair smelling of jasmine, appraising the work you’ve made just as it begins to fall apart. The weight of the roof becomes too much and the walls split either side of one another, in both slow motion and fast. Steve sees it happen incrementally, and it’s too quick to stop. 

Your gingerbread house collapses. 

“Fuck,” Steve says. “Fucking fuck.”

You get second place. 

“It looked good when it was actually standing,” Nancy reasons, her lies obvious in her raised pitch, her queasy shifting. 

“It did,” you agree. 

Steve’s self-loathing abates ever so slightly. 

“Pity win,” Eddie says with a cough. 

You laugh like crazy, and Steve decides gingerbread houses are for kids. 

—

After the gingerbread house disappointment, Steve thinks things cannot get worse. He is swiftly proven wrong. 

It's his turn to host a party, Robin's idea, and Christmas crawls ever closer. When he closes his eyes at night he can see the faces of every annoyed mom asking for The Christmas Star. Carols play in his ears unbidden. He finds himself humming songs he hates out of nowhere and clamping his mouth shut hard enough to chip a tooth every time. 

You love decorations, and so he and Robin have spent the last hour making his big empty house something fit for a rom-com, wreaths and tinsels and rainbow flashing lights. You love Christmas music, and so the stereos dialled to a cruel thirty in preparation for your arrival. You love cookies, and so, to Steve's amateurish expense, plates of sugar cookies line the kitchen countertops, along with all the finger foods one could ever desire. 

Though in Steve's case, that's none. He hates Christmas parties, reminded of his parents' misaligned efforts to earn favour with equally pompous parents. He and Tommy would hide out in backyards with stolen booze, and when that got too cold they'd shuffle inside, warm in their chests and numb in their fingers. 

He frowns at the memory and wizzes it all away. Tommy was an asshole. Steve was an asshole, he still is. This party isn't for his parents. 

It's for you. 

Not that anyone can ever, ever know. 

"What do you think?" Robin asks, pulling at the edges of the sweater she's changed into. 

It's a movie reference he should understand, but doesn't. "I love it." 

She smiles. Rare for them to operate above dry sarcasm and quick wit. Christmas makes Robin squishy, like she's forgotten how shitty the world is, and Steve wants her to have a good time tonight. This includes being nice (which he should be more often, anyway). 

"Go change. She'll be here soon."

"Who, Nance?" 

Robin tips her head back. "Oh, yeah, Nancy. Definitely who I meant." 

He flips her the finger, putting an end to their Christmas niceties. She's still laughing as he climbs the stairs and barrels into his room. He doesn't bother closing the door even as he hears the doorbell ring. The pizza should be getting here around now. 

Steve doesn't rush. He’d left cash on the countertop. Robin can deal with it. 

He ducks forward and pulls his polo up the length of his back, hair puffed out like a cloud. He'd set aside his ridiculous reindeer sweater on the top shelf of his closet. Or, at least, he'd thought he had. He searches once, twice, and then gives in to his short temper and drops his face into his hands. 

Stupid Christmas. Stupid sweater. Stupid party.  

He hears your inhale like a whisper. Breath caught in your throat. 

"Steve," you say, sounding surprised. 

It's his room. He's not sure what's so surprising. 

You're standing in the doorway looking angelic, all things considered. Your features softened by powder, wearing a white Christmas sweater with dainty beaded snowflakes and a plaid skirt. You look pretty, and Steve's not one for dramatics but he wishes he was dead. 

"You look nice," he says pathetically. 

"You, too," you say. You clear your throat. "I mean. Uh-" 

"You okay?" he asks, pushing hair out of his eyes. 

Your smile falters. You look at his naked chest. Steve worries he's making you uncomfortable and turns as nonchalantly as he can to his closet again, says, "I can't find my sweater. It's…" He lifts a bundle of jeans up. "Horrifying." 

"I can help." 

You step into the room. Each footstep silent, you've already discarded your shoes. He looks down to your stockings and then up again, ignoring the blush that wants to emerge at the sight of your thighs. 

"It's brown, and it has a weird red thing hanging off of it. Rudolph's nose." 

You step close enough that he can feel the heat of your arm and run a hand down the shelves. It takes a couple of seconds at most and you've found it, pulling it from the pile carefully. He loves the way you move, each inch deliberate. 

You press the sweater into his chest. His hands come up, his fingers cover your own. 

When he's with you, Steve feels as though everything — every movement, every moment — is broken down into its finest details. He thinks he could draw your fingerprint if asked, each miniscule line embossed into his skin as you touch him. 

"Steve?" 

But that's ridiculous. 

"Thanks. I think I got tinsel in my eyes or some shit," he mutters, averting his gaze.

"You're welcome. Robin sent me to see what was taking you so long. I'll tell her it was a Rudolph related crisis." 

You stroke his arm. 

He loses his shit internally, hand reaching for your retreating figure as you turn your back. He doesn’t know why. Maybe he would’ve kissed you.

"Steve?" you ask, now standing in the doorway. 

He recalibrates, muddled. "Yeah?" 

"Get dressed,” you encourage. You give him a short smile, blinding, and laugh quietly as you leave. 

He's hopped up on hope as he gets dressed, a smile plastered over what had felt to him like a seasonal scowl. He's no idiot; arm-touching, your tinkling laughter. Maybe his crush isn't as hopeless as he'd thought. 

He smooths down his hair for much longer than necessary, listening as the door opens and closes and opens again, friends trickling in with happy hellos and complaints about the weather. It's cold but too wet for snow, and evidence of it trails in from the front door through the hallway where shoes lie discarded in clumsy pairs.

He picks over them and finds his friends, ones he made willing and otherwise, draped over his living room like old throws. Max and Lucas have stolen the couch where they sit laughing, clearly gossiping about something. The rest of the lunch club stick close by, bowls of snacks already claimed and in cross-legged laps. 

"Steve," Jonathan says, "what the fuck is that?" 

"Fucker," Steve says. He's the butt of too many jokes, then, and he glares at Robin even as she plates him some still-warm pizza. 

"Sorry," she mouths. 

You curl up on the couch next to Max. He appreciates the unlikely friendship you've formed, sort of a sistership. You only know her through Steve but he genuinely thinks you'd pick her over him, and that makes him like you more. 

That's all he does, lately. Finds new ways to fall in love with you. 

"That is the ugliest sweater I've ever seen," Max says.

Fucking Christmas. 

—

Steve's been in a bad mood since he came downstairs, and you're not okay with it. Despite your shameless meltdown in his bedroom at seeing him shirtless, you don't quit. You spend some time with Max on the couch, and when she seems a little less agitated you track him down. 

He's definitely hiding. 

"I think Max's glasses are hurting her nose," you say. 

Steve looks over his shoulder at you, and he smiles, the slopes of his face kissed by the open refrigerator light. "They'd hurt anyone. The lenses are like, five inches thick." 

“Poor girl,” you mumble, more to yourself than him. 

He turns back to the fridge and pulls out a two litre of coke. “You want a drink?” 

You shake your head. His hair looks incredibly sweet from this angle, and you don’t mean that in a condescending way. It curls toward the bottom of his neck, that tiny bit too long compared to his usual cut. His neck moves as his head swivels, and there’s ligaments, there’s muscle, the bump of his Adam’s apple, all of it commanding attention. You think about stepping forward to touch him, his neck, to curl your finger around the side of his throat and hold him in place. If there’s one thing about Steve lately, it’s that he’s always fucking moving. He can’t sit still. He looks between you and the empty glass in question, twice, a third time. 

“I don’t read minds,” he says eventually, near pleading. 

You decide some flirtation is in order. 

“I’m glad you can’t,” you say lightly, crossing what’s left of the kitchen tile between you to stop at his side. You pretend that you’d wanted a drink, taking a glass down from one of his cabinets so he can fill it for you. Something he could’ve done himself. You hope that’ll be clear enough for him — the blatant want to be close. 

It isn’t, unsurprisingly. 

“What’s that mean?”

“Well, I think…” You lower your voice,a private confession. “That sometimes what I’m thinking, it might be- Uh, telling.”

Poor Steve. That hadn’t come out anywhere as smooth as you’d anticipated. It’s harder to tell him now you’re confronted with him, his every detail. And Steve, sweetheart, angel Steve, he misses the mark. Forget different pages, Steve’s reading a separate chapter, and your flirtation reads as a deeply unromantic confession. 

“Is there something wrong?” he asks. 

“No,” you say. “Of course not.”

His eyebrows jump and his forehead crinkles. “You sure?” His protective tone melts into something softer. “Let’s hear it, whatever it is.”

Steve isn’t patient. You know that about him. His temper is short and fierce. You like how hot he runs, love his agitated pouting and his dark-eyed scowls — he’s handsome in every expression. 

He isn’t patient, but he tries. He’s kind, and if you wanted to sit and talk about the hypothetical that isn’t bothering you, he’d listen. 

“I actually wanted to ask if everything was alright with you,” you say gently. 

His hand wobbles, fastening the coke cap. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I’ve noticed you don’t really like Christmas.”

He smiles, and soon the smile catches, a shy lip bite that has you fighting with your hands to keep them where they hang at your sides. 

“You got me.”

Steve pushes the twin glasses of coke back and then turns around, resting the small of his back against the countertop. You step in front of him without thinking, head ducked to catch and keep his eyes. They’re such a lovely brown, light and earthy, potted with white dots from the fluorescent kitchen light like falling snow as his eyes slip down. You swear, Steve is looking at your lips. 

“Is there something I can do?” 

It’s a terrible time to ask because you genuinely mean it, you’re not just trying to cop a feel. He doesn’t smirk or laugh as you’d thought he would, he only smiles. 

“Thanks, but I’m good.” He tips his head back, criminal, neck arched and ever-enticing. “Fucking sick of this itchy straight jacket,” he groans, pulling at the collar of his sweater like he’s hot. 

He is hot. You’d both benefit from a sudden winter breeze. 

His head drops, eyes lit with confusion. “What? Something on my face?”

“Something,” you agree. 

You look behind you to check what you’d thought you’d seen was truly there. When it is, you turn back to Steve with a feigned concern. “Here, come step into better light.”

You hurry into the doorway, frowning. 

Steve frowns in turn and follows you. You give the game away without meaning to, looking up at the sprig of mistletoe pinned sloppily above you. 

He sees it. He lights up. The happiest he’s looked all month, Steve scrubs a hand over his face and into his hair, pushing it out of his eyes as he comes to meet you. Your stomach flips with excitement, because oh shit, he looks like he wants to kiss me. 

“Butler, I’m in need of one of your finest cokes, please.”

Oh, no.

Eddie bounces into view with a certified shit-eating grin, hair decorated with tiny metallic baubles. His sweater is surprisingly normal, a black and white knitted affair with reindeer and snowflakes. 

He comes to a stop beside you. “What’s happening?”

Don’t look up, don’t look up, don’t look-

“Shit, hey! Mistletoe.”

Eddie opens his arms. You sigh, to his delight, and lean in so he can give you a chaste kiss on the cheek. You try to look at Steve and find your view blocked by a mass of hair.  

“Wow, sweetheart. And I thought we were friends,” Eddie says good-naturedly. 

You scrunch your hand in his sweater to push him away, not unkindly. Guilt gets the better of you and you pat the place over his heart. “We are.”

He makes a kissy sound and dives in toward your neck. Startled, you squeal, stumbling away from his rabid affection and back into the kitchen. He follows, though he doesn’t try anymore kisses. 

“Harrington! I wasn’t joking about the coke. Can I-“

“Help yourself,” Steve says. 

He sounds miserable. 

—

There isn’t time or opportunity to smooth things over with Steve that night. Actually, a week becomes two, and neither do you kiss nor talk about kissing. You want to explain to him what he probably already knows — you really had been standing there for him, hoping for a kiss, a proper kiss. 

He’d looked crushed. You don’t use the word lightly. Steve looked as though somebody had stepped on his chest and pressed all of their weight against his ribs. Frazzled, unhappy. You can’t get the look out of your head, and Christmas doesn’t feel so cheerful with the gap that yawns between you, an icy crevice. 

You try to explain and things get in the way. At the video store, you show up with a plate of apology cookies hoping for a second chance and suddenly the radio breaks and gets stuck blaring ‘Here Comes Santa Claus’ like a storm siren. You meet up for games night with a twig of mistletoe in your purse hoping to be a tad more brazen about it and he sits on the opposite sofa, doesn’t take any pee breaks, effectively foiling your plan with inactivity. You ask him out for hot chocolate over the phone and he can’t come. 

“My parents are flying home. I gotta pick ‘em up from the airport.”

You don’t know whether he’s lying or not. His parents actually being home feels outlandish. If he is lying, he doesn’t want to see you, and if he doesn’t want to see you… 

He doesn’t like you. Not the way you like him. 

You worry you imagined the whole thing, his enthusiasm, his starry eyed smile. 

So you’re giving it one last shot. If it doesn’t work you’ll spend your Christmas heartbroken and sulking, but if it does you might actually get to kiss him. It’s a huge thing, and your hands are shaking with more than the cold as you bump up the small step to Steve’s front door. 

The green wreath hanging below the peep hole jitters as you knock, a fragrant twining of pine and cinnamon sticks. 

The door opens all at once.

“Hi,” you say, biting the tip of your tongue. “Hi, I’m, uh-“

The man who’s answered, who you summarise to be Steve’s father despite never having seen him, looks disinterested. “Steve,” he calls. “One of your friends.”

He walks away with nothing else to say, a dark brown liquid lapping at the sides of his small glass. You pull the wrapped box in hand closer to your chest, shifting from one numbing foot to the other as a small tumbling sound comes from upstairs. A pair of hinges squeal, and Steve is halfway down the stairs before he’s even looked up. 

He slows as he approaches the bottom. 

He’s in pajamas. Sweatpants, nondescript, but his too-tight shirt clearly of the Christmas variety. A snowman smiles over his chest. 

“It’s laundry day,” he says. 

“Sure.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t go out with you-“

“Steve,” you interrupt, shaking your head. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“Is that… for me?”

The box in your hands is wrapped modestly. You hadn’t wanted to shove Christmas down his throat, trading reds and greens for a shiny silver paper pressed with fine glitter snowflakes. 

“Yeah. It’s for you.”

Steve stares at you. You stare back. 

“I’d invite you in, but…” He shakes his head. “Let me get my coat.”

Steve doesn’t close the door, to his father’s annoyance, deep grumbling echoing from the kitchen area. You watch him shove his socked feet into a pair of sneakers and scramble to grab his coat and a scarf. 

“Okay?” he asks, stepping out onto the path and closing the door behind him. 

You don’t answer, distracted by his hands suddenly held up, the scarf thrown neatly around your neck. He does a single knot and tucks it under your jaw. “Awesome,” he says. 

You walk down his street. Hawkins is half woods, and soon you’re weaving between naked trees, no destination in mind, not one unspoken feeling acknowledged between you. 

“Why do you hate Christmas?” 

It’s just dark enough for Steve’s clouded breath to show against the sky. “I don’t,” he says.

Your footsteps break over leaves so frosted they crackle. 

“I mean, I guess I do,” he says. “I don’t know. I think I want it to be better than it is.” He stops under a tree that’s clinging to its last handful of leaves and gives a low-hanging branch a playful shake. “I never enjoyed it, as a kid. Or, I don’t remember. I’m sure I liked it when I was still snot-nosed.”

“So, last year?” 

He chuckles warmly. “Exactly.”

You walk a little further, too awkward to hand him his gift. 

“I don’t hate it. But it’s cold, and everyone’s rushing, and the bad outweighs the good.” He sounds tired. 

He breaks your heart like that. 

You stop walking and Steve takes your cue, the two of you toe-to-toe, your sneakers dirty, his socks odd. One white and one grey. 

“I got you this because… um, I have something to tell you. I don’t think I can say it out loud, but- but I hope it adds something to the scale.” You extend the box slowly, your fingers stiff with the cold. “You deserve some good. You deserve a lot of good.” 

You laugh, flustered, and Steve joins in, chest lifting with it as he accepts his gift. 

He rips off the wrapping paper, at first carefully and then less so, shoving little pieces into his pocket as he goes. You take the bigger scraps from him so he can look at the box itself. 

Your gift is actually multiple gifts contained inside, and the first isn't technically a gift at all. The Family Video copy of The Christmas Star.

"Is this-" 

"I've been meaning to give it back to you. I'm sorry, I know it's not a real gift, I just figured- I mean, you've never seen it. I thought we should watch it, and that you'd like it if you did. Or maybe you'll hate it, and that would be fine too." 

He nods and moves to the next gift, lips twitching with an emotion he won't share. 

"That's your size, hopefully. I asked Robin but she didn't know. I kept the receipt." 

Steve smiles at you. "Would you hold this?" he asks. 

You put your hands out and take the box back, worried, but he's only unzipping his coat. Quick as a flash he's shrugging into the sweater head first. It's a simple thing, red wool, soft to touch. A Christmas sweater, though there's no decoration beside a tiny holly leaf embroidered at the collar in dark green. 

"This is fucking sweet," he says. 

You agree. He looks good. 

A shiver racks his spine. 

"Put your coat back on, you're gonna freeze," you say gently. 

He beams at you. "My dead body will be the best dressed in the morgue." 

"Don't joke about that!" 

He laughs and gets back into his coat, zip right up to his neck. He still looks cold. 

The third present is a gingerbread house kit. The fourth, a sprig of mistletoe. They're obvious now the sweaters in action, and Steve seems mildly confused by them. You leap to explain. 

"I thought, I mean- I want a do-over." You tilt your cheek toward your shoulder, scared and fond at the same time. "I wanted you to kiss me. I think you wanted to kiss me, and then Eddie," — you laugh loudly, cheeks burning with the cold — "was being himself. And Steve, I brought that stupid plant with me to Robin's house last week hoping we'd be alone, and to work the week before. But you're hard to pin down." 

You take a deep breath before continuing, eyes determined at his collar, "If you don't want to kiss me, that's okay. That's why I brought the gingerbread house, because ours was awesome before it fell apart, and I'm pretty sure Robin gave us a dud on purpose. We made something really cool together, and I think we can do it again." 

"I did want to kiss you. I do." 

You bite the inside of your lip, nose scrunched up in happiness. "You do?" you ask, and there's this feeling in your chest like you could burst, and all the cold shrinks into nothing. You're warm in your arms, your fingers, your fingertips. 

His hand comes up to his face briefly, shielding his eyes. "Am I obvious?" 

"Am I?" 

His exhale tickles your cheeks. "No," he says breathlessly.  "No, you're not." 

He says it like it's a good thing. A great thing. 

"Everybody else knows," you say similarly. 

"I know." 

He brings a hand to your cheek. It's cold, cold as your face, but he still winces and rubs at the apple with his thumb. "You're freezing," he says as he inches forward. 

His lips are warm. More gentle than you'd imagined, hesitant, and the box you're holding stops him from getting as close as you want him to get. He kisses you once, then he pulls away and kisses you again, his lips slightly parted. 

It's better than you'd thought it would be. His palm stroking your cheek, the pressure, the heat. Knowing he wants to kiss you now as he wanted to then. 

"No fucking way," he says, tilting his head back. 

You tip your head back too. Something wet falls in your eyelashes, a drop of rain. 

Not rain. "It's fucking snowing," Steve says. 

It's snowing. Because it's Christmas, and the powers that be are on your side. 

"Happy Christmas, Harrington," you say jovially. 

You're given another kiss in reward. Reward, or to shut you up. You're not sure. 

—

Steve is impartial to Christmas. He doesn't want to get into it but he will, because you love it. 

The snow — the snow, which had fallen thick and fine as powdered sugar, which you adore, and which makes coming to see you in the days leading up to Christmas near impossible. It's something out of a movie, Steve, seriously, and you need to appreciate what's happening. 

The music you play when he comes to see you, records on your record player and cassettes in your tape deck lying on your chest, knee to knee and thigh to thigh with him. Your quiet humming; you won't sing, but the small sounds alone are enough to make him want to kiss you (though everything does now). He can't hate Here Comes Santa Claus when you hum along under your breath, lips skipping over the skin of his bicep, your hand scratching a rhythm into his hair. 

Everybody knows Santa's coming, I don't see why they have to have a whole song about it. 

Are you jealous? I'll write a song about you. Or maybe I can steal one. You ever hear Santa baby? We can make it Stevie baby. 

Christmas music? Not his thing. You calling him baby? Fine, he can get behind it. At least until January. 

Christmas sweaters! He fucking hates them. They're ugly, they're scary, he doesn't wanna walk around with a pom pom on his chest thank you so much, but he has to allow them. Has to. If only so he can watch you get dressed with one eye hidden in your pillow and the other wide open. Thank little baby Jesus in the manger for Christmas sweaters so you have something to tuck into your skirt, so you have a reason to wear a skirt at all, and a reason to take one off. 

Christmas snacks he can get behind. Or, he can get behind this. You on the couch, a needle threaded in your hand. A bowl of popcorn in his lap, and your face as you lean back. 

He throws a kernel and it lands in your open mouth. 

You both holler, twin expressions of unadulterated joy, popcorn spilling over the sides of the bowl. You just look so happy, he climbs on knees to steal a kiss. A smiling kiss, the very best kind. 

"Aren't you supposed to do this stuff before Christmas eve?" he asks. 

"I've been a little busy." 

Steve digs his face into your neck so you won't see him blushing, hands curling around your waist in an impromptu hug. Yes, he supposes you have been. 

You kiss his temple sweetly. 

"Merry Christmas," he murmurs. He really, really means it. 

❆

thanks for reading! im so out of practice but hopefully this is okay!! i meant to post it yesterday but anyhow, i hope you enjoyed <3

[missvelvetsstuff]

No Benefits

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Reader and Bucky are best friends until a drunken hook up. Bucky wants a friends with benefits situation because he doesn't feel ready for a relationship but reader knows that will lead to a broken heart.

Then Sharon Carter comes to work with them.

Notes: Steve and Tony are around but retired, everything else is mostly canon

Chapter 8

Warnings: swearing, angst, references to sex

The compound was tense the week after Cookie left. Tony was still pissed that she was gone and he couldn't get his favorite cookies. On top of that, fixing the Avengers gym was a major undertaking thanks to the holographic projectors that were used for team training simulations. Tony stood and watched as Bucky did most of the clean up before the tech team went in to replace everything he had destroyed.

Everyone was walking on eggshells as they waited for Nick Fury to return from off world. Of course he already knew what happened but was looking forward to bitching out the people who pushed her to leave. He was due sometime this week.

Sharon tried to get close to Bucky but he wanted to wallow by himself. He also shunned Nat who tried to distract him with her Widow seduction techniques. Anytime they were in the same room with Bucky, they were trying to get his attention. They would flirt, wear sexy and revealing outfits, act helpless so they could turn to him to open a jar or reach a higher shelf or something equally dumb. Bucky didn't really see through their efforts like the rest of the team did, he just didn't care what either of them said or did.

One morning Nat slid up to Bucky and started rubbing his arm as he drank his coffee. He looked at the hand on his arm then picked it up and pushed it away from him like it was diseased. Sharon stepped in and tried to get between him and Nat but he rebuffed her as well. It ended in a fight in the common room, both women ended up in medical, Sharon had a broken nose while Nat had cracked ribs and both had various scratches and bruises.

Bucky had just turned away from them and leaned on the counter to finish his coffee, seemingly oblivious to the women fighting right behind him.

Tony had enough and had Friday lock both women in their own rooms until Fury returned and decided what to do with them. He snapped at Bucky "I'm getting really sick of your little harem with their attempts to seduce you and fighting with each other. You need to find a way to convince them you aren't interested."

Bucky shrugged "I don't know what you want me to do, Stark. I don't speak to either of them, except to tell them to leave me alone and I don't do anything to encourage them. I don't want either of them and I keep telling them but they won't stop." He sighed "I just want Cookie."

The morning after Cookie went to the Harlan Thrombey book launch, Bucky was sitting next to Steve, both eating the omelettes Sam made for them, when Nat entered the room "Gee Barnes, looks like your precious Cookie has moved on already."

Bucky sighed and shook his head but didn't say anything.

Nat took that as a sign to keep going "She ended up in the gossip pages, seen leaving a book release party with Boston's most eligible, and notorious, bachelor." She smirked when she heard Bucky's breath catch "Ransom Drysdale has a different debutante, model or actress on his arm every week but this new woman is a mystery." She quoted the article she was reading on her phone. "There's a bunch of pictures of him with other women. Cookie was definitely a step down for this guy."

She snapped at Bucky "Why are you pining for some dumpy little analyst when I'm right here?"

Bucky could feel his control waning he turned and snarled at her "I don't fucking want you! Leave me alone. What the fuck are you doing out of your room?"

Nat shrugged "I have my ways"

Tony skidded to a stop, out of breath "There you are, Romanoff. Do I need to put you in a holding cell? The big guys room? Stop trying to stir up more trouble and leave Barnes alone!"

Nat scoffed "Fine, I'll go." She rubbed her shoulder against Bucky and purred "You know where to find me."

Bucky pulled away from her, then looked over at Tony in shock, he never imagined Tony would stand up for him. He softly spoke "Thank you, Tony."

Tony nodded "I think we need to have Romanoff and Carter checked by medical again."

He looked at Bucky and smirked "You're not hideous but they have a level of obsession with you that doesn't seem natural. I want to be sure they are both completely clear of that serums influence before we even consider putting them back out in the field."

Bucky nodded, thinking "It's interesting that I'm fine and we haven't had any problems with Yelena, maybe she'll know something more about that serum and the 'cure'."

Tony hummed "Well, you have the super soldier juice and they mentioned having to dose you repeatedly but yeah, maybe Yelena can shed some light. Friday, where is Miss Belova?"

"She's in her quarters, boss. She hasn't left since returning from kidnapping Cookie."

Tony nodded at Bucky "I'll let you know if I find anything. If Romanoff bothers you, tell Friday and we'll put her in a holding cell until Fury returns."

After talking to Yelena and consulting with Bruce and Dr Cho, And a trip to Antonia's holding cell, Tony discovered that Antonia had used an updated version of the serum after Yelena released all of the widows. The cure worked but only partially, and it seemed that the orders that Sharon and Natasha had been given were still floating around in their heads, making them act out. Yelena had voluntarily locked herself in her room after all the drama with Antonia, as she took being controlled again very hard and didn't trust herself.

Tony called the team to move Nat and Sharon to holding cells since Nat had escaped her room once but when they went to find the women Sharon was still in her room but Natasha was nowhere to be found.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That same morning, outside of Boston...Cookie woke up, closing her eyes as quickly as she opened them. Too bright, the room was all windows. She groaned as she became more aware, she felt some new aches in her body, most noticeably between her legs. She also felt an arm around her waist and that she had no clothing on.

A warm body behind her moaned "Relax. It's early and Sunday." Pulling her closer.

Cookie turned to look at him, in the early morning light and with his messy bedhead, she realized the man looked a lot like Steve Rogers. The thought made her giggle, until he turned her so she was facing him and pulled her close until she felt his morning erection pressed up against her "I know you're not laughing at me, sweetheart." He started kissing down her neck and grinding up against her until they were caught up in each other again.

A few hours later Cookie felt her stomach grumble "Ransom" she whispered with no response "Ransom."

She pushed on his shoulder and he groaned "nooo"

She started tracing down his side until he choked back a laugh and grabbed her hands "What is it, Cookie? I'm tryna sleep here."

"Ransom! I'm hungry so you need to feed me or I need to go home and get some food."

Ransom started pushing up against her "I've got something to feed you, right-"

Cookie elbowed him in the ribs "Really Ransom? What are you, 12? I need some food." She sat up "I should get home, I've got chores to do"

Ransom scoffed "Chores? That's what maids are for."

Cookie got up and found her clothes "Yeah, well not all of us have trust funds so we can afford to hire help."

He sat up and watched as she dressed.

Once she was somewhat respectable looking, for a walk of shame, Cookie turned to Ransom, who had started playing with his phone once she was dressed. After leaning down to give him a kiss she stood to leave "Thanks, Ran, I needed that. It was fun. Maybe I'll see you around."

Ransom looked up "Do you need a ride or something?"

Cookie smiled "No, my uber is almost here, I'm good."

He leered at her "I don't do relationships, baby, but you have my number if you wanna do it again."

She giggled "Yeah, sure. I'm going to wait out front for my car, so I'll see you."

When Cookie arrived home she took a long hot shower and went over her memories of the last 24 hours. She certainly never expected to meet Ransom Drysdale and spend the night with him. His reputation was justified, the man had a wicked tongue and impressive stamina for someone with no enhancements. He definitely satisfied but wasn't someone to get caught up with, as his reputation also warned. She wasn't in Boston to find a new man anyhow, she was getting over one. He didn't compare to Bucky but she tried not to think about him, everything was too confusing and messy.

Cookie sighed, she missed him and the friendship they had before Sharon showed up to ruin everything. Even though she knew it wasn't really Sharon's fault, Cookie couldn't help the anger that tried to bubble up. She pushed it back down as she dried her hair and went downstairs to find something to eat.

Cookie didn't feel up for cooking so settled for a bowl of cereal, sat at the dining room table and picked her phone up only to be hit with dozens of notifications. She felt her stomach drop, apparently Ransom was big gossip and the new unknown woman he left the book launch with was Boston's biggest mystery. Some of her coworkers were asking if it was her while Annie just tagged her with a winky emoji. Maria Hill texted a question mark and 'call me'.

Cookie's head fell into her hands, she knew she wasn't in any trouble but hadn't expected her little fling to get so much outside attention. This was a potential complication that she didn't need. At least she knew Ransom was on the same page and didn't expect anything more from her.

She jumped when her phone rang but was relieved to see it was Sam.

"Hey babygirl, sounds like you're having some fun in Boston. Don't forget us little people while you're hanging with the world famous writer and his family."

Cookie laughed "Please, it was one party. I'm still the nerdy intel analyst you know and love."

"Well I hope so. You didn't hear it from me but Robocop is turning green."

Cookie scoffed "Right, he has them to keep him occupied."

"Yeah, they are fighting over him and he's ignoring them. It's almost entertaining, at least until I had to help pull them apart. I got scratched in the face, those ladies are ruthless."

Cookie laughed "Poor, poor, Sammy. Beat up by those mean ol girls. I'm sorry I'm not there to stitch you up."

"Pffft, wasn't all that. Just annoying." Sam whined "I miss you, when are you coming home?"

Cookie sighed "This is my home for now. I miss you too Sammy but the compound was just too much. You should come here, there's lots of history."

They ended the call with Sam promising to visit when he could get away after Cookie told him she would make his favorite cookies.

After they hung up, Cookie started going through her mail. A plain white envelope with the compound as the return address caught her eye. The simple block writing made her heart race as she realized it was Bucky's writing. It was the first time he'd tried to reach out to her since the night they spent together and she was afraid he was finally rejecting her friendship outright instead of just ignoring her. Being ignored had hurt but there had been some hope, however foolish it might have been, especially after learning that he had been drugged, but if he told her he didn't want her in this letter that would really be it.

Cookie's mind came up with all sorts of awful things he could say and what his words could do to her and she felt a panic attack crawling up her spine. She dropped the letter like it was on fire and backed away without opening it. She wasn't ready to read what Bucky had to say yet and left it on the table as she started her laundry and straightened up her townhouse.

@erelierraceala @capswife @ozwriterchick @cjand10 @wintrsoldrluvr @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @browneyedgrli @greatenthusiasttidalwave @hhiggs @dontworryboutitsweetheart-blog @behindmygreyeyes @pattiemac1 @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @calwitch @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @ordelixx @blackhawkfanatic @casey1-2007 @scott-loki-barnes @selella @hiireadstuff @winterschildren8

Every time she walked past the table she could see it out of the corner of her eye. It seemed to grow and catch her attention no matter where she went in the house but she just couldn't bring herself to open it yet.

Chapter 9

[ineffable-endearments]

I like to imagine Crowley with a garden.

I like to imagine him starting out a little unsure of all this - the Serpent of Eden, with a garden of his own? Really?

And yet, as he works on it, he feels like he belongs here. He's felt this in waves, in the Bentley and in the bookshop. Never in a place of his very own making, though, except maybe in the time before he was himself. That still wasn't quite as good as this.

He's never seriously considered flowers before. They aren't very demonic, after all. They never seemed an appropriate pursuit. Now he has some flowering plants, and they're like tiny nebulae, bursting from the stems he grew himself. Bright colors and radiant patterns on the petals pointing right to the pollen-coated head in the middle, where new seeds will form like stars taking shape out of dust.

They grow and they go to seed and they grow and they go to seed year after year, the endless machinations of a complicated renewing living system, making constellations against the greens of the garden.

Sometimes, there are local kids who nick fruit from the trees. When Mr. Crowley comes out of the house, grumbling, they always run away with shrieks of glee and whatever they could fit in their pockets before they were discovered. But Aziraphale observes with increasing satisfaction that Crowley never seems to learn that he needs, at the bare minimum, to fix that weak spot in the fence if he doesn't want little thieves taking his fruit.

And Crowley rarely catches anyone he chases away; if the children are too young or slow, he always has a sudden fit of clumsiness that allows them time to slip out of the garden. On the occasion he catches up with them, he sternly says, "Look, you've already picked it. You can keep it this time. But don't tell anybody I let you have it or I'll never hear the end of it. Understand?"

The stars are still up there. They provide a lovely backdrop when Crowley leads Aziraphale outside a few times a year to look at the flowers that bloom only at night. Aziraphale is excited most of all by the radiant pride and joy in Crowley; he's learned, though, by now, that the best way to keep that smile he loves on that face he loves is to admire the flowers themselves, to point out how beautiful they are, so Crowley can say more about them. And it's true. They really are lovely.

[dean-a-mean-tae]

Light At The End | Stray Kids Extra Member AU

You shine bright Brighter than all the stars ... And your perfection even in your mistakes Give affection even when your heart aches

Chan x Nicholas | Those are song lyrics from Alvin and the Chipmunks ;-; | I hope this was to your standards!

WARNINGS: Discrimination, Racism, Could be perceived as self-harm (Nicholas gets hurt twice but is okay with both), anorexia (different for everyone this is based on my experience), I think that's it

I realized I forgot to put warnings, and I am so sorry. (Update 12/22/23 9:20)

Nicholas Ross Master List | Requested: Yes | Of The Tunnel Part 2

"I'm gonna ask you something, and I want you to be honest," Chan whispered. His voice was loud in the silence of his room. Nicholas sat with him with a stuffed frog in his lap.  

They were in their spot again. The place Nicholas first opened up to Chan. The place where Chan swore to help Nicholas find himself.

"What happened?"

You know the phrase, 'Your parents are your first bullies,' right? They told you they did it to prepare you for the world, and it worked. You know the world is cruel, and nowhere is safe for you. Not even your head. Your head is clouded by judgment forced on you as a child.

"Why don't you talk to me?" They whine. They don't realize they follow in their parents' footsteps. They tell your business because it's family, then get angry when you do the same. Isn't that what they taught you?

Nicholas grew up in a world of hate and then got thrown into a world of more hate.

He couldn't handle the ones about his appearance. Why don't they like him? He's tall, has soft skin, has healthy hair, and is happy. He has proper hygiene and cares for his body as much as it allows. 

He was used to the comments about his talent, or lack thereof. He could handle the ones complaining about his spot in Stray Kids. Those were easy because they were true. These cuts weren't deep, and they reminded him of home.

"You did good in practice today," Felix said as he looped his arm through Nick's.

"Only because Minho hyung stayed behind and helped. I'm out of rhythm still," Nicholas denied, shaking his head.

But the ones about his appearance? His mother taught him to be proud of his complexion and how his hair grew from his scalp. So, what was wrong with him? Why don't they like him? Why can't they like him?

"Nicholas?"

Maybe he should get a perm. Is that what it's called? A perm? The thing that gives you curls or takes your curls is a perm, right? Whatever, the stylist will know what he's talking about. It was her idea anyway.

"When will you tame these knots?" The woman groaned as she brushed through Nicholas' hair. It hurt, but he wouldn't say anything. She is the hairstylist. This is her job. It hurt when his momma braided his hair, but it always looked good when done.

"What knots? I brushed and plaited my hair," Nicholas explained, looking at the woman in the mirror. She would be pretty if she stopped glaring. Glaring gave her wrinkles around the eyes and reminded him of those pug dogs.

"We should put a relaxer in your hair. The chemicals will make it straight and fix these knots." She ignored him. She kept talking about his unmanageable hair and how difficult it was to work with him.

Relaxer, that's what it's called, or is it both? Nicholas can't remember. He should schedule one. He couldn't tell the members. Jeongin and Changbin would strangle him before letting him get rid of his curls.

"Nick, can you hear me?"

"Did you hear?" Someone whispered, and Nicholas tilted his head. The mirror showed the two stylists behind him.

"He only washes his hair once a month. Twice if his members help him," She grumbled. 

The woman in front of her grimaced in disgust, "Could you imagine the build-up?"

"What about his stylist?" The first one huffed, leaning to hide from a passing staff. "Don't you think it's selfish making her deal with the dirt?"

Maybe the relaxer will help make wash days easier. Simple wash days meant his hair could be washed frequently. 

His eyes were stinging again. 

"Don't rub your eye so hard," Chan scolded as he yanked Nicholas' arm away from his eye. The pull sent a pain up his shoulder, but it's okay. "You still have your contacts in."

Contacts? Oh, the new ones he got from Nicki. After one of the members gave her his account information, she would put money in his account and order things for him. A sweet woman, she is.

For some reason, these contacts prevent him from crying. He likes them.

"Is this about the comments?" Chan whispered. He knew? Of course, he knows. If Chan knows, then Minho knows. Minho finds these things before everyone.

Nicholas still can't find the strategy in Minho's methods.

"Nicholas?" 

He did it again. He fell down the rabbit hole. He needs to stop doing that. Did he eat today? He skipped breakfast cause he had an early practice. He promised Hyunjin he would eat later after vocal lessons. He drank a smoothie and ate an apple. 

Technically, he didn't lie. Hyunjin would still be mad, though.

"I need to eat something," Nicholas said, more like croaked. Had he been quiet this whole time?

"You're hungry?" Chan asked.

"No." But he knew he needed to eat something. He was doing so well. He ate two meals and four snacks yesterday. And he didn't throw up. He forgot to tell Nicki about that. 

Too late now. Progress gone.

"I'm proud of you." Maybe it was how soft Chan said. Or it could have been because of the raw emotion in his voice. But a quiet, pathetic sound left Nicholas' lips, and his fists tightened around the frog. Gentle hands guided him to warmth. 

You would think he'd be used to this by now. Comfort through touch or even words. He didn't have that from his parents, and his sister didn't know how to be gentle until they were older.

"I'm proud of you."

There it was again. The phrase that broke him. The phrase that scared him. He used to think love was conditional.

But a genuine love, platonic or romantic, is unconditional, even when it hurts. That's why it hurts to move on or forget.

He was moving now. Where is he going?

"Go to sleep, Nick," Chan whispered. Oh, he's being carried. That's why it's so warm. They're going home? He missed home. He wondered how they were doing.

"Thank you, Starlight," Nicholas whispered.

"You're welcome."

Nicholas Ross Master list | Of The Tunnel Part 2

©️DEANAMEANTAE2023

Tags list: @bada-lee-ily, @jinnie-ret, @hwxnghyynjin, @foxilsdenn, @rensahazard, You can be added by asking in the replies, sending me a message, or doing an ask thingy.

[starsomens]

not sure what I just wrote......I woke up and went "I gotta write this out!!!"

“Babe could you come here and help me find that photo album?” You hear Noah call from upstairs

“Coming!” You excuse yourself from the rest of the boys who were sat in the living room. You had told Noah that all their old picture were in an album you had put together upstairs in the hallway closet. “Noah?” You call out as you didn’t see him in the hallway. “No-“

Suddenly you were pulled into the bathroom, with the door shutting quickly behind you. His hand over your mouth as he trapped you between him and the door.

“Listen to me, princess.” He whispered in a growl “you’ve been teasing me all day long and now you’re going to fix what you caused” you look down to see the large tent in his pants

His leg slots between your own and nudges against your pussy.

“Ah, Noah, they’re in the living room!” You whisper yell at him

“You didn’t seem to have a problem walking around in these shorts,” he said tugging on the band “or pushing your ass against me when you had to get past me.” He stated as he began to nip your ear. His hands coming underneath your shirt. His digits squeezing at your skin out of frustration and lust

“Im sorry baby I just-“ you try and speak but your cut off by his attacked to your neck

“Sorry for what baby? For getting me hard? For wanting you?” he flips you around to face the mirror, slightly bending your over the sink. His hard dick pushing against your ass. You had to admit, you were teasing him hoping this would happen. But you were hoping he'd do it after everyone left, maybe it worked too well. His hand came around to the front of your body and slipped into your pants. His slender fingers brushing against you. Playing with your clit, you feel your legs go week as you try to hold yourself up

"You're so fucking wet baby," he pants into your ear "What do you want baby? My fingers or my cock?" he asked you as he other hand came up to grasp your jaw and make you look in the mirror "What does my slutty princess want?"

"y-your cock" you moan in a whisper "p-please"

"Awh such good manners," he smirks bringing you shorts down, his hand grazing your ass landing a spank to the skin, making you jump. You watch him in the mirror as his face, his jaw falling slack as he finally slips inside. He always filled you so deliciously, and you always fit him like a glove.

"Fuck baby," he moaned "So fucking tight" he pants as he thrusts into you. The sound of your skin against his filled the bathroom, you loved having sex in front of the mirror and being able to see his face change in pleasure. His hand stayed on your hips and the other came to the mirror as he came closer to your body. His lips kiss your shoulder, his teeth nipping at the skin. His hand play at your bundle of nerves, as he thrusts become shorter but more intense

"N-noah, please right there!"

"There baby? fuck! You feel so good princess." You could feel his thrusts become erratic, you knew he was getting close to his end "Shit! Gonna cum! Cum with me baby" he moans against your shoulder.

"N-noaahh, cumming!" your jaw fell open as you could feel your stomach tighten in your approaching high. He suddenly came down on your neck with his teeth, his hand slapping over your mouth to keep your cry to a minimum. His hips stuttered against your ass as he empties himself inside of you.

"fuck...fuck baby..." he whispered kissing the bite mark he had just left. After catching your breath, you both get cleaned up and organize yourselves. Before you could open the door he tugs at your arm, you turn to face "we aren't done baby, we'll catch up later" he smirks and pecks your lips "little minx" he chuckled opening the door and letting you come out first. Coming back into the living room the boys were looking over a book

"The Album was here guys" Folio gave Noah a suspecting look

"Yeah, don't know what kind of album you were looking for" Nick chimed in

"....."

".....I added in some of Noah's baby pictures" you said changing the subject

"What? WHER!?" the boys said as they started to flip pages

"Y/N!"

"Well now they won't question us"

[squiddleknitted]

Watching the new James Somerton apology.

Bold move monetising your apology video. The revenue will go to HBomberGuy! Or Wikipedia maybe!?

The focus on how so many people were nice to him feels like he's suggesting nobody should criticise him now that he's been forgiven by the people he personally and directly wronged.

There's an awful lot of weight being placed on "I'm a cis white man." It's like he's trying to take the blame off himself and put it onto the cisness, whiteness, and maleness. Being a cis white man means he will always be flawed, it's a way of avoiding his responsibility for his actions.

He called the fucking cops on someone. He claims the person, "Did an internet and threatened to kill me." He then follows this up by acknowledging that, "Cops don't usually have the best interests of people at heart." I'm not familiar with the Jessie topic but this video explores it and offers context.

Lots of "We tried too hard to be good and that was our real downfall" type bullshit.

On Telos: "These were not going to be unionised movies, and we were very clear about that upfront. We wanted to be able to pay actors as best that we could, but we never expected to be able to reach typical union wages." Do I even need to say it?

Lots of throwing Nick under the bus. What are Nick's pronouns? James goes from using exclusively they/them to exclusively he/him. There's a line about how him and Nick were codependent that makes me wonder if abuse/toxicity allegations are in the future?

He's talking an awful lot about how every movie he tries to do has issues and he inevitably had to move to a new movie plan. Surely he should've just. Focused on how to fix the issue?

He's getting really into the suicide topic again. In a way that would be better saved for close friends and therapists.

Supposedly several people showed up at his house trying to harm him while he was not there. I'm a little skeptical. This is the first I've heard of anyone having his address, and while I'm sure he received threats, I can't imagine anyone is so invested as to actually go to his house.

He is re-uploading videos, including new videos. The re-uploaded videos are monetised and the money will be going... Somewhere.

"I know that misinformation made its way into our past videos." Well, it didn't write itself?

He has put together a new Patreon, and claims he will not be reopening the old one.

"This video is not about promoting myself." And yet, you have spent much of it doing exactly that.

He hasn't acknowledged the ways that some of his work upheld misogynistic and racist views? 43 minute video and he couldn't manage a, "I should've been more normal about nazis," or, "I said some mean things about women."

[wheredostarsgowhenyoudie]

Once upon a Monday night after patrol...

Peter (swinging in through the window in the spidey suit, taking his mask off): Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark! Guess what! Guess what! Guess what!

Tony (who is in the middle of fixing Dum-E paused his tinkering at the whoosh, lips twitching to a smirk which he hid by drinking coffee): What, what?

Peter (beaming so wide): I made three friends today! Well four if you count the elusive one who approached me but shied away from the others. I named them Stephy, Stacey, Gwen and Michie!

Tony: Aha, and what are they this time? Birds? Bees? Iguanas?

Peter (still smiling, brings out a phone to show him a photo): They're cats Mr. Stark! And they're so cute, I love them so much! See. One white, one cream, one grey, one black. They're all cat colors!

Tony (shuffles the kid's hair): Hm-hm. Nice going Underoos. Looks like a menagerie.

Peter (suddenly goes shy): Uhm, could we- I mean if it isn't too much, sir, and only if it isn't! Err, could we maybe, if it's alright with you, go to the petting shop for my birthday?

Tony (felt his eyebrows rising automatically, looking at the camera, knowing Friday is already making a list of pet stores he could acquire): You want a pet? Is that your wish?

Peter (looks down): Ahm, no, I just...ahm, I just thought it'd be fun to pet some cats and dogs with you. It'd be a memorable experience, but uhm, you don't have to if you're busy or if...if you'd rather not. No pressure Mr. Stark! I mean, I just thought I'd ask.

Tony (face softening into a smile): Of course. Tell you what, meet me outside your apartment 10AM tom. We'll get breakfast, go to the pet shop and then the other three places I planned to take you to.

Peter (eyes widen): Really? You'd spend the day with me Mr. Stark? But aren't you busy or something?

Tony: Nope. Not at all. All free for my favorite spiderling.

Peter (is unable to hide his excitement and went for a hug): Thanks Mr. Stark!!

Tony (finds himself squeezed by his favorite half arachnid child, not really complaining and patting his kid in return): There, there, Underoos. There, there.

.

.

Later, several people will receive a meeting cancellation and request to reschedule.

President Elis, Nick Fury, Steve Rogers and the entire board of Stark Industries.

And when they reach out to Pepper Potts to ask what the heck, her polite and professional answer would be simple and concise.

"Code S," she would say, and they would all perk up into a knowing smile, understanding and accepting the code for what it is.

Code S. Reserved for one specific boy from Queens who happens to be Friday's, every Stark employee's and every affiliate's and partner's top priority over everything as per the mandate from Tony Stark himself. Everything else will be put next in line if the code is triggered.

There's even a video/threat attachment to the email to discourage anyone who dares disobey or violate the terms and agreement.

Officially, it stands for Code Superior. In front of Tony and Peter, the avengers sometimes call it Code Spider-man, even if Peter has no idea about the mandate and signed agreement that anyone who needs Tony Stark/Iron-Man to work with or for them has to sign. But they all knew it meant something else anyway.

Code S, in Friday's coding and among Tony's closest relations, could only stand for one thing. Code Son. A spot unofficially but exclusively reserved for one clueless Peter Benjamin Parker.

[spectralscathath]

Tour Guide to the Unexplained- A Gravity Falls Fanfiction

Chapter 5- Mystery Twins Birthday Bash

Stan and Ford didn’t expect much when getting shipped up to Gravity Falls to stay with estranged family. Not their Grunkle fleeing the cops, not a surprise party, and definitely not the Mystery Shack and their lying uncle who runs it. But with Ford’s smarts and Stan’s punching, there’s no mystery they can’t solve.

Ao3 Link

The sound of a cellphone was what heralded Dipper's latest problem. He nicked himself mid-shave by accident as his pants buzzed, fumbling the razor and knocking over half his shaving kit. It clattered as he took a breath and grabbed the phone, hitting 'answer' and tucking it into his shoulder, trying to pick everything up. "Mr Mystery of the Gravity Falls Mystery Shack, what do you want?"

"Hi, Grunkle Dipper!" A man's voice on the other end had him short-circuiting on who it was being so friendly before he realised it was A) a familiar voice, and B) calling him something only three people in the world had the right to.

"Shermie!" Dipper smiled. "How are you?"

"Great, things are great. I just wanted to call and say that I've sent something up for the twin's birthday, and I hope it arrives for tomorrow but if it doesn't just let them know it's on the way. Thirteen's a big age."

"Birthday?" Dipper repeated, smile plastered on.

"Yeah! I'll try call tomorrow too, I know mom will as well. And maybe Grandpa, just text us what would be a good time, we don't wanna intrude on anything."

"No, yeah, I'll text." Birthday. Crap. "Take care, Jupiter."

"Great! Okay, I gotta go, light's gone green. Chat later!" Shermie hung up. 

Dipper waited for a moment to see if there'd be anything else. 

Silence. 

He panic-dialled Wendy. 

"Corduroys."

"Hi Wendy it's Dipper don't hang up I need advice-" he got it all out in a rush.

"Alright. Shoot." Wendy sounded the same as always, calm and amused. 

"I have twins in my house and their birthday's tomorrow, what do I do? I've never thrown a kids birthday before- I mean, I crashed a few- but for work, not because- listen, there was this body-hopping ghost clown I was tracking-"

"Dipper, relax," Wendy laughed. "Birthdays are easy. Cake, balloons, presents, it's easy. I've done it for sixteen years with Dan, you can manage one."

"But I don't even know their favourite cake flavours! Or the best choice for balloon colours! Or what kind of presents they want! What if they want party games, scratch that- a party?"

"If they want a party, us Corduroys can show up." Wendy offered. "Dipper. Just talk to them. Ask what they want."

"But that would admit that I forgot they're thirteen tomorrow."

"They won't care, probably won't be surprised. You're kind of a disaster."

"Thank you, Wendy, really helpful."

"Anytime."

"I- Wendy-" Dipper felt the urge to apologise. Again. He didn't think he'd ever stop apologising. But that didn't fix things. "Dan's doing great, by the way."

"Yeah he is! He's a flippin' Corduroy," Wendy laughed. "Let him know the plans for tomorrow. Bye, Dipper."

"Bye." Dipper hung up and pulled out the day's to-do list, scratching out half the stuff on it and writing down 'cake, presents, balloons, party? Ask preferences'. He'd need to go into town, but he couldn't buy their presents in front of him- and there were still so many variables. He'd also need Carla to cover the tours while he wasn't here, she was a bit bubbly but the enthusiasm really got people excited to take pictures. Dan could use some register practice anyway- oh man, what was he doing?

He panic-dialled a second number. 

"This better not be a waste of time, I'm doing my makeup." 

"Heyyyyy Paz, it's Dipper."

"I know, I'm rich, I have caller ID." Pacifica huffed haughtily. "What is it this time? Mothman texted, wants to get back together?"

"Ugh, I hope not, I blocked his number. It's a children's birthday party."

"I thought you got rid of that clown ghost-"

"No, not that guy! It's for the twins, its their birthday tomorrow-"

"And you forgot," Pacifica summed up. "I had heard you had kids this summer. I was wondering how long it'd take you to crack and ask for help. You lasted two weeks, congratulations."

"Thanks, they haven't died yet." He was actually quite proud of that fact. 

"So, you mentioned a birthday party." Pacifica hummed on the other side, sounding far away for a second. Was he on speakerphone? Her and her beauty routine, he never dealt with makeup unless he had to show up somewhere as Mabel. 

"They're thirteen, it's a big one."

"Arbitrarily, but kids love to make big deals out of small things. I assume you've started a list."

"You know me," he wrote down 'make a big deal'. "I already got some information, balloons, cake, presents. Anything else?"

"Definitely don't try to handle it yourself. You'll overcomplicate it and wind yourself up into a nervous wreck until it blows up in your face." 

"I'm getting so much feedback on my personality today, it's really great." 

"Awwww, poor you." She matched his sarcasm. "Just get your old mechanic to help, he's much more of a party person than you."

"Paz, you're a genius." Of course! Maybe he could even drop the boys with Soos while he went into town to get all the supplies. 

"Obviously. That's why we tolerate each other."

"... Do you wanna bring Preston to the potential party if it ends up being a thing?" Maybe it would be good for the kid?

"We're busy." Her tone dropped below freezing point and Dipper suddenly remembered why.

"Oh- yeah. How, uh, how's the divorce going?"

"You're going to be buying me something obnoxiously foul at that disgusting biker bar you like once it's all over. I have complaints."

"Oh boy. Good luck, Paz." 

"You too, Dipper." She hung up. 

"Okay!" He looked in the mirror, the small cut on his chin dribbling a little bit of blood. "You have a plan, it's going to work great. Don't overcomplicate."

#

"So if you could both fill out those six-page questionnaires before we reach my friend's house, that would be super helpful to my shopping today."

"Grunkle Dipper, this is double-sided." Stan flicked through the sheets of paper as Dipper ushered him into the back seat of the truck.

"Aw, there's no maths questions." Ford sounded so disappointed as he leafed through his own, following his brother.

"Seatbelts on," Dipper took a big swig from his travel mug as he hopped in the front, a bandage on his chin. Fourth coffee of the day, he'd need way more to survive town. "You'll like Soos and Dolores, they're good people. Soos was my handyman before he retired and Dolores had a summer job at the shack for a few years." Cashiering like Carla.

That reminded him- "Carla! Since it's a Sunday, remember to charge double for-"

"Photos of the reverse harpy, I remember!" Carla saluted, dressed in her version of the Mr Mystery adventure outfit. 

"And remind Dan to triple-check anyone who pays in just coins! They could be scammers!"

"We've got this, go!" She shooed him off with a laugh, affixing her flower to her explorer's hat.

"Why don't we get to watch the till?" Stan asked, Ford already on his second page as his pencil flew across paper. 

"Because I need you on questionnaire duty, get answering." He really should show them how to use a till, get them some life skills with money. 

"Can I copy Ford's answers?"

"No- wait, do you do that?" He glanced at the rearview mirror as he pulled onto the road.

"Uh." Stan looked at his own questionnaire, his wrist no longer braced. "No."

"Only on some things! I don't mind," Ford defended. "He's actually really good at Spanish."

"I'm not, I got, like, a C-  on my last report card."

"Hey, I scraped a D, Ms Lopez was disappointed." Ford clearly tried to cheer his twin up, but his own tone didn't sound cheerful. It sounded brittle. Dipper remembered hating getting anything less than a B+ on his own school reports, he understood. "Guess I don't have a knack for languages."

"Languages are hard." Stan sighed. "I barely speak English good."

"'Well', Stanley," Ford corrected offhandedly. "Grammar is important."

Stan groaned and kicked the back of the passenger seat as Dipper turned on the radio, deliberately sparing them BABBA so they could focus. If the questionnaires didn't work, his Plan B was to get Dolores to do some snooping for him. 

He could absolutely make this party go well. See if he could make up for the puppet incident. The looks on their faces, because he lost control of himself, of his fear… he wasn't made of stone. He had to fix that. 

It was gonna go great. They were gonna have the best birthday ever, he could make it happen. Party Guy Dipper Pines. He had a plan, the steps were in numerical order, it had headings and sub-headings, it was gonna work perfectly. Bonus: he wouldn't even need to clone himself again. That went really bad last time, good thing he destroyed that printer and got rid of all of them.

#

Stan led Ford into the small house on the outskirts of Gravity Falls's suburbs, shocked to see their self-admitted people-hating Grunkle willing accept a hug from both the old guy in a Hawaiian top and the lady in a snazzy pink dress with poofy brown curls. 

"Dolores, Soos, these are my grandnephews," Dipper introduced, still looking as wild-eyed as when he chased them out of the Shack and into his truck. "Stanley and Stanford Pines."

"Ay, qué lindo!" Dolores looked at them adoringly, as Dipper ushered them forward. "Señor Pines, they're so cute!"

"I'm not cute!" Stan puffed up. "I'm tough!" Like a tiger. The fact that Dolores only cooed more did not make him feel better.

Dipper patted his hair and Ford's at the same time. "Yep! Adorable! I was wondering if you wouldn't mind watching them for a few hours while I do some stuff in town?"

"Si, no prob, dude, we're gonna have a great time." Soos waved a hand. "It's gonna be the bomb."

"I should have never taught you young people slang, abuelito," Dolores sighed, but she didn't look angry. 

"But it makes me so hip and trendy!" 

"Hey, Dolores, can I talk to you super quick?" Grunkle Dipper cut in, giving Ford and Stan a little shove into the house as Dolores stepped by to join him outside.

"Si, what do you want?" Dolores glanced back. "Abuelito, the cookies should be cooled, if you want to make tea?"

"You got it, Lola." Soos smiled at her and lumbered towards the kitchen, his hair white and thin. 

Stan started to double back to try and eavesdrop before Ford caught him and pulled him along. Right. Another adult was there. Getting in trouble immediately was a bad idea. Good thing he had Ford around to keep him on track.

Besides. Cookies.

The kitchen smelt amazing, Stan didn't regret following Ford as they entered, both taking a deep breath of baked goodness. It smelt like the Belgian waffle place next door to dad's pawn shop but even better. 

"You dudes like video games?" Soos asked brightly, using tongs to place cookies on plates. They looked like little round spheres. Stan took one and bit down, not expecting the jam inside. Yum!

"An old person who likes video games?" Stan mumbled through a mouthful of jam cookie and looked at Ford.

"That seems like a statistical anomaly," Ford agreed, taking a cookie himself. "Thank you, Mr Ramirez."

"Call me Soos, little dudes. Everyone does." He moved around the kitchen. "You dudes want tea?"

"Why do you say 'dudes'?" Stan asked bluntly. "It's not what old people say."

"I picked it up from my grandkids, I talk all rad like them now." Soos chuckled. His voice had a soft accent around some words, just like Ms Lopez. "I play video games with them too. Lotta good skills in those, good for the brain."

"We don't get to play them much. Consoles are expensive." Ford stated after swallowing his cookie. He didn't talk with his mouth full like Stan.

"You wanna use mine? I love playing video games with people, dawg."

Stan and Ford glanced at each other, and while Ford had done all the tests and conclusively proved they could not, in fact, read each other's mind, somehow they knew. 

They really wanted to try it out. 

#

"Okay, okay, you crazy man," Dolores laughed at Dipper. Cool. Today was going great for his ego, he wasn't bitter. "I'll find out details, now you go, do your shopping.."

"I owe you both for this. Thanks, Dolores."

"And don't worry about a cake, I'll make something better."

"You really don't have to-" the glare in her eyes cut him off. Oh boy, time to backtrack. "I surrender to your wisdom."

"Good!" She clapped her hands together with a smile. "We will also be at the party tomorrow."

"Got it." He really wasn't escaping a party, huh. "By the way- have you heard anything interesting recently?"

Dolores' eyes sparkled with the promise of gossip. "Do your shopping first and be back in time for lunch, maybe I'll tell you something."

Dipper chuckled and tipped his hat as a 'yes'. "Let me let the boys know."

He stepped inside, unable to stop a smile at the sight of Soos in his armchair, talking the kids through the basics of a racing game. He should take them to the local arcade some time, they'd probably have fun. He could also make sure he still had the top score on Space Invasioners while he was at it, he was gonna be dead in the ground before someone else took that title from him. 

"Okay, I'll be back in a few hours. You two behave, alright?" He leaned over the back of the couch.

"We will," Ford smiled.

"How much are you gonna pay us to behave?" Stan held out a hand expectantly. 

"Ha! Nice try. Seriously, behave." Dipper pointed at him. 

"Dipper, dude, are you going to the mall? If you do, can you-"

"I will bring back something from Hoo-Ha Owl's Jamboree," Dipper agreed. Least he could do for springing babysitting duty on Soos and Dolores at such short notice. "Even if that place is creepy."

"Yes!"

"Okay, enjoy your games, don't get in trouble, and Dolores-" he pulled out his wallet and handed her some cash. "If I get arrested, pay my bail with this."

"I will," she nodded solemnly. 

"Bye, kids! Don't die or something." Seriously, those twins attracted trouble like nothing else, just one calm day, please.

#

"Video games are so cool!" Ford smiled, much preferring the one where he and Stanley could work together to beat up enemies and find stars to the racing ones.

"Yeah! Man, dad's missing out, I'd never be getting into fights if I had something this fun to do instead!" 

"Heh, yeah, you should get Dipper to take you to the arcade." Soos had his hands folded over his stomach, sticking around to remind them of button functions and point out stuff they missed. "I love that place, I worked there for a while before I was hired for the Mystery Shack."

"Why was that?"

"Oh, Dipper's great, little dudes, but he can't swing a hammer."

"No, he is useless," Dolores agreed. "He'd live in a pigsty if we didn't keep him alive. With the pig."

"He does love that pig." Ford agreed. "He talks to Waddles Jr. a lot."

"Yeah, it's kinda cool." Stan liked how big the pig was. He thought they were all tiny piglets, but Waddles Jr. was a beast. It was awesome. 

"Yeah, he was a total wreck when Waddles Sr. was gone, nothing cheered him up 'til he got a new pig." 

"It was very sad," Dolores agreed before moving on. "Now- my friend also wants a cake for her son's birthday but wants to surprise him. What do you think, chocolate? Vanilla?"

"You should make them something minty, it's the best flavour," Ford jumped in immediately and Stan switched to damage control. 

"No, no- not mint, it's an evil flavour." Stan ignored Ford's offended gasp and flailing hands in his face. "Dolores, go for the vanilla. Classics are classics for a reason. Choc chips if you really need to spice it up."

"I see. Very smart, both of you."

The front door opened and closed with a bang, all of them turning to see Dipper with his back pressed flat to the wood, chest heaving, partially on fire. He had a bag in one hand.

"Sheesh, what happened to you?" Stan had to ask and Dipper shushed him, head cocking.

Stan did the same, and heard sirens blare in their direction, louderLouderLOUDER then fading as they went by. Dipper waited until they vanished before he took a deep breath. 

"Grunkle Dipper…?" Ford asked warily.

"No structural damage!" He raised his hands, half his face covered in soot, the fire on his sleeve starting to spread from his shoulder to his jacket collar.

"Grunkle Dip, you're on fire." Stan had to point it out. Did he not notice?

"I am?" Dipper looked properly at himself and panicked, hurriedly ripping his hat off and batting at the flames. "I am! This is bad!"

Dolores pulled out a fire extinguisher from under her chair and took aim. "Hold still."

"No I'm holding food!" He raised his hand, hat out like a shield. "Fire's out!"

Dolores lowered the extinguisher. "Hm. Crazy man. I'll get the first aid kit."

"It's not that baaaa-and she's gone."

"Dipper. Dude, did you get lunch?"

"Yeah, I got your creepy animatronic pizza," Dipper gestured at the bag, carrying it over and using it as the shield instead. Soos accepted and began doling out pizza as Dipper gestured at the twins. "Budge up, boys."

Ford dutifully moved over, forcing Stan to do the same unless he wanted bony twin elbows shoved into his ribs. "Seriously, what happened?"

"One of my friends should get a job writing horoscopes," Dipper collapsed with a groan. "'Blow up in your face', c'mon. That's not fair. How's your day going?"

"We're playing video games!"

"It's so much fun!"

"They're really good, dude," Soos told him seriously, offering out pizza boxes. Stan grabbed one for both of them to share before they were presented with a second pizza. Wow, one each? Soos continued, settling back in his armchair. "You should put 'em in, like, tournaments."

"Will do." Dipper gave a thumbs up, placing his hat over his face as he leaned back into the couch. "Nap first."

"You're sleeping through pizza?" Old people were so weird. He glanced at Ford, who gave him the same confused face back. "Grunkle Dipper, you're a lost cause."

Dipper grumbled something that sounded like 'four for four'. And Ford thought he was an anomaly, Stan should let him know he had nothing on their Grunkle.

#

Grunkle Dipper was a hard taskmaster when he wanted to be, Ford was deciding, on his third round of scrubbing clean all the various plaques for the permanent attractions. 

"Grunkle Dipper, can we go outside already?" Stan sounded on the verge of either saying the P word, a statistical impossibility, or hitting their grunkle with a broom. Ford was well-past any state of trying to convince him otherwise, maybe the broom would set them free. 

"Not yet," Dipper leaned in the single entrance to the attraction hall, the gift shop on the other side. Freedom was so far away.

How much cleaner could the attraction hall get? Dipper kept running his finger across surfaces, checking for dust and somehow finding some even though Ford knew there wasn't any. Why were they even cleaning? Weren't there supposed to be tours? It wasn't one of the days the Shack was closed. 

This was the worst birthday ever, and that included the year dad made them scrape barnacles off the pier for a friend of his. It included the year Stanley got them both grounded too, actually. It was a low bar, yet somehow Grunkle Dipper managed to crawl under anyway. 

"I still see dust on the Roman sarcophagus. And there's marks on the bog body glass." Dipper checked his flip phone for the fourth time in ten minutes before he busied himself with adjusting the new Cursed Board Game exhibit. 

"That's because the cloth for cleaning the glass is gross," Stan huffed as he swept. "Can I have my smoke bombs back?"

"Will you stop trying to escape?"

"No."

"Then no."

Stan swiped at him with the broom, Dipper managing to dodge. He wobbled, but stayed up. Dad definitely wasn't that light on his feet and he was younger then Dipper. 

"How do you do that when you're so old?" Ford had to ask.

"Well I've been chasing after a pair of troublemakers for the past two and a half weeks-"

"Dipper," Ford pouted. 

"Daily stretches do a lot for a guy, what can I say?" Dipper tipped his hat before wincing. "Still hurts though. And don't smoke, seriously. If you learn nothing else this summer, learn that."

"I don't like the smell anyway." Ford hated the way it made the house smell in Jersey, but he couldn't just tell mom and dad to stop. "And it has lots of health risks."

"And expensive, dad's been complaining about the price." Stan chimed in.

"See? Stinky, dangerous, and expensive. Don't ever do anything that hits all three, those are bad life choices." Dipper preened like he said something clever. Ford wondered if other people thought he looked as smug as his Grunkle did when Ford said smart things. Except he was actually a genius, a real one. 

"Don't tell me what to do," Stan muttered rebelliously. 

Dipper's phone buzzed and he checked it. "Great, okay boys, we can stop cleaning now!"

"Finally!" Ford dropped the cloth like it was about to bite him. 

"What's this 'we' business?" Stan demanded, pointing the broom menacingly at their Grunkle. "You just stood there telling us to do things!"

"It's called 'delegation', it's great," Dipper stepped away from the entrance he'd been sort of blocking. "Alright, let's all go outside!"

"Race you!" Ford ran by his brother and tagged him on the back, Stanley whooping and taking off after him as they ran through the surprisingly empty gift shop and outside past a bunch of cars. They had been cooped up inside too long and had energy to burn. 

"Go round the back!" Dipper called. 

"Eh, why not?" Stan shrugged and tagged him back before sprinting. "Keep up, slowpoke!"

"Don't call me a slowpoke!" Ford chased him with a grin, managing to tackle him right when they rounded the Shack. They landed in a pile of knobbly joints and laughter, right when there was a massive yell of "SURPRISE!"

They froze, taking in the scene. 

Carla and Dan had massive grins as they stood under a banner held up by Dan's trio of uncles, Tad and Fiddleford beside them holding balloons in Tad's case and fireworks in Fiddleford's, also grinning. A tall red-haired woman in an eyepatch and flannel sat beside a pair of adults dressed neatly with pleasant smiles. Waddles Jr. sat among a collection of party games that had been set up. Soos and Dolores stood by a table piled high with food and- oh, wow, two cakes!

"Happy birthday, boys," Dipper said from behind them, sitting on the porch couch and making a 'go ahead' gesture.

Carla barely managed to beat Manly Dan as they raced over, her arms wrapping around them both. Ford heard Stan make a squeaking noise as she hugged them tight, pulling back with a bright smile. "Welcome to being teenagers! It's super cool!"

"Thanks," Stan's voice cracked, and when Ford looked at him his face was bright red. Was he sick?

"My turn!" Dan scooped them both off the ground, squeezing tight enough Ford was sure his spine's alignment was altered. 

"Go easy, Danny!" The woman with the eyepatch called out in amusement, while Dan's three uncles started chanting 'Dan! Dan! Dan! Dan!'

"Happy birthday!" Dan yelled as he put them down. "You have presents!"

"We have presents?!" Ford's eyes bulged in shock. No way, those were so rare!

"You're pulling my leg, big guy," Stan visibly tried to get back his cool. 

"Never! It's not a birthday without presents," Carla grinned. "But you gotta do games and cake first!"

"Those are the rules of partying." Tad tied a red balloon to Ford's wrist and repeated the process for Stan once Stan finished giving him a suspicious squint and stuck out his hand. 

"You're all forgetting a step!" Fiddleford chimed in, hefting the pile of hazardous materials in his arms with a wild grin and a mad laugh. "Fireworks go last! Whoohahaha!"

#

Dipper put his hat over his face to try to sneak in another nap when hands grabbed his arm, hefting him to his feet. He yipped and waved his free arm for balance, Wendy towering over him as she let him go. He wasn't that short, she was just NBA-tall. 

"You think you have a pass to conk out like an old man just because the party started?" Her wild red hair was jammed under a dark beanie and her green eye was bright with guarded amusement. "Wrong idea, buster."

"Wendy, I am an old man." He put his hat back on. "Okay, what am I missing?"

"We all have to watch the kids play party games and clap when they win, then you take pictures of the cake. Didn't you ever have a birthday as a kid?"

"I sometimes skipped my parties to read." Sometimes it felt easier that way, at least until Mabel found him and pulled him out of his head and into a game with all her friends. "I'm just glad people showed up today."

"For those twins? Of course!" Wendy punched his arm with a grin. Ow. He rubbed the spot with a wince as she laughed harder. "Don't be a baby. They're good kids, got plenty of people who'll show up. Why'd you think otherwise?"

She knew why. "I'm surprised you're even here, Wendy." 

"You act like I'm supposed to be some twitchy paranoid wreck, I think you've got that covered." Wendy rolled her eye and patted his back. "Don't get so weird, Dip, get out there and mingle."

She shoved him off the porch and he almost ate dirt, flailing for stability as he stumbled into the small gathering of grown-ups. He recognised Wendy's brothers who all were cheering for the kids, no point talking to them, and he wasn't gonna get away with not talking to anyone. Soos would be easy, but maybe he should at least learn the names of the unknowns on his property?

"Hi. Dipper Pines." He waved awkwardly at the Stranges. He vaguely remembered meeting one of them when he paid the mortgage off, but couldn't remember a name. He also couldn't remember if he'd ever seen them blink. Time to observe. "Nice to meet you properly."

"Hi." The man who looked and sounded way too much like his son, except for his brown hair, held out a hand with wide eyes. "I'm Carl Strange. This is my wife-"

"Celia Strange," she also held out a hand, staring with a smile that matched her husband's. "It's lovely to meet you, Mr Mystery. We love your Shack."

"Thanks." He bit the side of his tongue as he forced himself to shake their hands one at a time- eeny, meeny, miney, you- and kept on the showman's smile. Mr Mystery was a lot braver than Dipper Pines. "Regular visitors, then?"

"Oh yes, we like to drop by. Reminds us of our old town," Celia laughed, her glossy black hair cut in a neat bob. 

"We love your snowglobes, ever since we stopped travelling it's been great for our collection." Carl put his hand on his hip, smiling placidly. Still no blinks.  "New designs each year, how do you do it?"

"I take my inspiration from the world around me." He looked over at the kids as they tried to pin a tail on a cartoon pig drawing. Aw, cute. Waddles Jr. deserved the homage. 

"How artistic! You know, we're so glad our little tadpole's made some friends here."

"I've never seen him so excited."

Dipper squinted as he studied the kid squad. Nope, the Strange kid still had that singular smile on that seemed to be his one 'setting', so to speak. Same one as what his folks had. Eerie. 

"Yeah. No, he seems like a good kid." He looked back at the happy couple. Was that abnormal pupil dilation or…? "It's good for the twins, I think they need some normal in their lives."

"Well, we're as normal as can be," Celia chuckled. 

"Yes, indeed," her husband agreed. "Though it must be exciting, running one of the local town attractions."

"Yeah, yeah, it's fine." Someone save him from small talk. Wait, was that a motorbike? "Actually I think I hear the delivery guy, I'll be back in a sec, great to meet you both, you're welcome to come back for a tour anytime."

"We will!" They chorused. It sent a chill down his spine. Okay, he was going to never talk to the Strange parents again, great idea. 

He walked around the Shack to see Jimmy pull up out front, sighing in relief. Someone he could deal with. "I've never been happier to see you in my life, Snakes."

"Whatever, old man." Jimmy pulled off his helmet, snake tattoo in a different position today. He hefted two giant boxes off the back of his bike. "Here's the dumb packages."

"I didn't send you out for anything?"

"Nah, they're from that rich lady with the brat kid. She actually paid me," Jimmy sneered. "You should try that some time."

"I don't have money." Dipper stated, standing in front of his functioning livelihood. "Are you saying Pacifica sent you?" 

"Uh-huh."

But why would she- wait. The realisation clicked and he ran over, actually reading the labels on the giant boxes. Insane. Pacifica Northwest was apparently insane. Who did this? "She got them bikes for their birthday?! How?"

"Wait, am I on a birthday present run?" Jimmy sounded so offended.

"Get your butt in gear and do your scale thing, kid, you're carrying these."

"I hate you."

#

It was a whirlwind of fun and cake and so many presents. Stan still couldn't believe that they had an actual birthday party. One where people wanted to be there. Dan and Carla and Tad and Fiddleford and Jimmy- who showed up late and stayed for cake before leaving- had all actually wanted to be there. Stan had no idea how to even handle all that, and clearly Ford didn't either.

"How's the cataloguing going?" He asked as Ford wrote down everything in their present haul. Whatever made him feel better.

"A bike each from someone named 'Paz', flannel jackets from the Corduroys, toy dinosaurs from Soos and Dolores, free passes to the local carnival from Carla, Shermie mailed us toy boats, Fiddleford got me a book and you a comic, and Tad gave us both a whole thirty bucks each." 

"And…" Stan hefted up what had been on their beds after the party ended. 

"Right. A beginner artist's set, one for you and one for me." All Dipper had said when they turned on him for answers was a shifty 'family could use more artists' statement. 

"This is the most insane present haul we've ever gotten." Stan summed up.

"It's too much. Way too much." Ford agreed. "We- do we just keep it all? Are we allowed?"

"I mean- how are we meant to give it back without looking like goobers?"

"I don't know, I've been running calculations and everything beyond keeping it all seems rude, but that also seems rude?"

"Maybe we figure it out tomorrow?" Stan could put the moral complexity stuff off forever, honestly. "After all, we gotta call mom." It wouldn't feel right without hearing her say 'happy birthday'.

"We gotta call mom." Ford's eyes went wide, remembering the most important part of the day. "Okay, we know what to say, and what not to say so dad doesn't drag us back home yet. We've practiced. To the phone!"

"Yeah!" They ran downstairs and Ford dialled, easily remembering the number on the landline. The fact that Grunkle Dipper still had a landline was comforting. Mom did too, one that dad kept in top shape so she could work. 

It rang once, twice, thrice, before it was picked up and on the other end- "that'll be 99 cents an hour."

"Ma!" They chorused.

"Stanley, Stanford! My baby boys!" She sounded way more interested now, her voice husky from cigarette smoke and warm with love. "Happy birthday! How's it feel to be thirteen?"

"We're not babies anymore, ma!" Stan snatched the phone. He hoped so much Pa wasn't around on the other side, as weird as Gravity Falls was, it was nice to feel like he could breathe without being weighed down by dad's disappointment. "We're teenagers now!"

Ford snatched the phone back. "Grunkle threw us a surprise party and all our friends came!"  

"That sap," she laughed. "Guess Shermie was right, sounds like you're having fun up there."

"We are!" Stan chimed in. "And my brace is off so I can punch things again!" It still kinda hurt a bit, but that was just healing, probably.

"That's my little spitfire! Tell me about your party, I miss you both." Stan hoped that was true. He wanted it to be.

"We miss you too, ma." Ford smiled sadly. Stan hesitated before he reached out and took his hand. Ford smiled gratefully at him before he took a deep breath. 

"So first we were cleaning the Mystery Shack…"

[slocumjoe]

Do you have any grab-bag headcanons for the companions? (SFW or NSFW, whatever you're in teh mood for!)

COMPANION HEADCANON SAMPLE PLATTER PART 4 I THINK??

Cait; Actually pretty mellow as a person, like, down to her bones, she's...not quite laid back, but she isn't as hotheaded or firey as people think. Trauma and addiction will give you that reputation, though. Once she's off the chems, eased up on the booze, and gotten herself to a healthier place all around, Cait is more like your friend's older, alternative sister in college who buys you Pizza Hut for your sleepovers, than a loudmouth riot girl. It surprises Cait, too. She's got her own way of looking out for people, but once she's got your back, you know it.

Codsworth; functions as a stand-in secretary for the mayor of Sanctuary that is the Sole Survivor. Most people report or complain to him, if not Sturges or Preston. He has a better, less fallible memory, and has a knack for managing things on his own. Sure, sometimes "managing things on his own" means getting a group to fix the water system, sometimes it means personally torching a band of raiders scoping out the outskirts of town. He gets things done. Keeps meticulous record of anything he's told and anything he does "on the clock."

Curie; absolutely loathes working with Wasteland doctors. Very rarely do they stand up to her high, high standards. They have no degrees—understandable, there are no colleges anymore. They don't wash their hands. They don't have basic understanding of anatomy. They don't know what goes in the simplest medicine. Her greatest pet peeve is the more...superstitious healers. If you hold up a rock and say it fixes bones, Curie won't cuss you out, but you'll think for a moment, she just might. Her usual method of handling is to simply guide and educate where she can. But if the week has been full of people just sticking needles in places and praying, her nerves get shot to shit.

Danse; if you end up in a settlement, and Danse goes missing for a bit, just follow the sound of kids. He always attracts kids, drawn to his power armor. Sometimes they just want to watch it move, sometimes they have questions. Usually they want to be picked up. Danse is too soft to say no. He can end up stuck in a loop of playing with local kids, telling the child-friendly stories he has, maybe giving them some pointers with firearms or how to take down a wasteland monster. If you have to pull him way, his puppy eyes are sadder than any of the kids'. Always wanted to have a small family of his own, but resigned to the fact that he'd never have one.

Deacon; Polyglot, but can't speak any language beyond English. He can read other languages, though. Spanish and German are his strongest. This happened largely because his small school growing up had to use books that weren't wholly English. Things just spiraled from there. He can understand a few other languages, but speaking himself...he makes Curie cry with his French. As for his Italian, if he took out some of the, for lack of better word, Mario-isms, he'd be able to hold a conversation with Nick. As things stand, Nick starts hitting him with the fedora until he stops butchering the language.

Gage; really good with kids, though most take one look at him and see a monster. He tends to draw younger adults, fresh off their farm and new in the frying pan that is raider-dom. He usually tells them to go the fuck back home. Most of them aren't cut out for it. They're there because they're scared, they're hungry. They're angry. They want, want, want. Those kinds don't last. Once they're fed, they get the first payout, they get their first kill, they've had enough and want to go home. And Gage, he does get them back home, if they don't listen the first time. You tried. You saw what this life was like. You're still a kid. Go back home, don't tell your ma and pa what you did, and if you see anyone you just worked with, shoot to kill. He doesn't know why he does it. Why he lets them go.

Hancock; Could have been a championship chess player in another life, chems or not. He's smart as shit, quick on his feet, and can read someone's game before they even set it up. He learned to play chess from his neighbor in DC, an older Ghoul gentleman everyone just called Bubblegum. Bubs got his name for always having bubblegum on him, and giving pieces to whoever beat him or just improved at chess. Hancock liked gum, and his parents didn't allow it. So, he was always playing against Bubs after school, hoping to either win, or at least impress the guy enough to get another piece of candy. Bubblegum moved west after the Ghoul exile, but Hancock likes teaching the few young'uns of Goodneighbor chess and any other tricks he knows. If they catch on, they get a gum.

MacCready; Actually a rather quiet, withdrawn person. People he likes/gets close to tend to think of him as more extroverted, more of a rowdy young man like you'd think. Nope. He gets that way once he's really comfortable with someone. If he's not...doesn't talk much. If it's business, he's a bit more sociable, but Mac isn't the type to, say, chat at the bar with strangers, or make small talk with a shop owner. It's a mix of shyness and his more brusque side. If he sticks around one place, he'll open up, and such is the case with Goodneighbor, but if they remember him at all, majority of people will remember thinking he was mute.

Nick; Was a theater kid. The moment he could go into theater at school, he did, and it consumed his teenage years. His favorite play to perform was Hamlet, obviously, and even at a young age, he had a strong voice, so he was often the titular character. This gave him a complex. You don't recite Poe unprovoked without being a little bit pretensious. Aside from the Theater Kid Ego, Nick was different from his peers in that he lacked mental illness (it would come later). Half of his negotiation and de-escalation skills were honed to a fine point, trying to keep Heather and Back Up Veronica #4 from trying to method-act. Nick would later stare down gun barrels and feel less fear.

Piper; Potentially suffers from arthritis, or will in the future. It could be from overworking her hands from writing, or fiddling with her printing press, but the first knuckles on her hands and her wrist joints ache frequently. The pain varies, but putting pressure on her hands usually helps, hence her fondness for fingerless gloves. She wears them a bit too small for the pressure. Piper can always tell when its about to rain or radstorm, because her hands flare up. She jokes that its a superpower, but suffers from anxiety about potentially struggling to use her hands, if she gets older.

Preston; there are few ways to really aggravate Preston, but if you wanna, restrain any limb in any capacity, or touch him from behind or to the side. Y'know how people will sometimes grab another's arm, like, while laughing, but quickly let go and not mean much by it? Preston hates it. He doesn't like any limb being pushed down or held back. As for the touching from behind, he's a bit like a horse. Approach from the front and telegraph the movement. If you try to hug him from behind, or read over his shoulder, God forbid lean on it, you're cruising for an elbow to the crotch. He doesn't mean to, it's just muscle memory, instinct.

X6-88; nosy bitch. He wants to know everything about everyone, and will shamelessly and explicitly poke and prod to get the information. This man will ask pointed questions about your husband that you don't want to answer, not just because it's X6 and you don't know him, but because you don't want to know the answer. He's that kind of person. Oh, you complain about your child? Well, why did you have one? Didn't want an abortion? Kept it for the husband? Well, do you like your husband? No? Did he even want kids? Also no? So, why did you have a kid? Sometimes, X6 isn't even trying to be deliberately confrontational, like a therapist from hell. He has moment of honest, if not overzealous, curiosity. But most of the time, he's just throwing shit in your face.

[nickssidewitch]

Why, in your opinion, does Matt face more dating-related allegations than his brothers?

Matt is allegedly "linked" to an absurd number of women. People's presumptions about Matt's potential partners don't seem to have much merit, in my opinion.

Which of the assumptions regarding Matt's alleged dating life are true? in the event that any exist? 😂✨

❓🧢 Why Matt Sturniolo Has Dating Rumors + Are They True? 🧐❓

The answer to why he faces more dating allegations compared to Nick and Chris is neither short nor simple, but here’s what I can tell you:

He is, objectively, the most desired of the three brothers. Girls want him, boys want him, enbies want him, everyone wants Matt Sturniolo.

His energy is the most resonating compared to his brothers. A lot of people resonate with his energy because he presents himself as someone who people can resonate with. He’s open and relatable, almost giving off a safety net energy. His talks about his mental health and past struggles are a big factor in this. And this openness also makes people think he’s open to anybody romantically and sexually.

He gives off “I can fix him” energy. A lot of people look at him and think “I can fix him” pretty much 😭. So shipping him with another girl makes it seem like she’ll be the fixer-upper.

People know they can’t date him or are unlikely to, so making up those rumors makes them live vicariously through those girls while simultaneously aids in self-sabotage for the parasocial fans.

Nick is gay. This one is self-explanatory. If 1 + 1 = 2 …

For your second question, here’s a far easier answer:

No assumptions of Matt Sturniolo ever made so far in the history of his entire online career have been true. Ever.

Every girl that anyone has ever said he’s dated or been involved with has never ever been with him. Even if he has had crushes on girls or has just liked how someone looks, he’s never been with them.

Some of the girls that people are assuming he’s dated are just friends, and some of them he’s communicated with because they’re in the same sphere of work and friendships.

Creating these rumours and painting him to be “rage-baiting” because of the rumors people made up by themselves on their own accord is absolutely ridiculous. Get a hobby. (not you anon 😭🤍 love you!)