#im cutting it close buckaroos

[thehobbutts]

looking at my bank account when rent is due

[ficyorick]

[BE] deleted scenes clean-up :) - ch3

i always put scenes im cutting out into a separate file, just in case i get to reuse them but these r definitely goners so i can share

Originally, the trip back from Pennsylvania to the cabin was a bit longer. I sort of cannibalized that moment to make the transition from Billy's being mad at Kessler to Billy taking it out on HL more of a punchy moment:

"Get the fuck out of my car." Billy turned towards the road and flipped the headlight control, switching to low beam. 

"I'm not in your car, buckaroo. I'm inside you." Kessler smiled his wide grin.

"Where were you taking me?" Butcher didn't acknowledge anything his dying brain was saying to him. "Where are we?" 

Kessler sighed like a parent who knew they just weren't getting through to their moody teen. He closed the glove compartment with a click, but not before dropping a pack of wet wipes on Butcher's knees. "On the way back. Figured you needed a distraction. We just got on 219, keep going straight and we'll be out of Pennsylvania soon."  

Butcher reached into the packet he himself dropped in his lap. He wordlessly wiped at his face and his hands, getting most of the already crusting blood off. The rest would have to wait till the cabin. Slowly, he released the handbrake and let the van start properly. Kessler leaned back in his seat, getting comfortable. 

"I could drive for you." He offered casually.

"No. I need to think." Butcher squeezed the gas pedal, eyes glued to the road. 

Kessler made a doubting noise in response but didn't press. 

It took them another day to get back where the cabin was. At some point, Butcher had to pull over and catch some shuteye in the back of the van. Kessler stayed in the passenger's seat while Billy changed his clothes to slightly less bloody and rolled a makeshift pillow from his jacket. He closed his eyes and saw only red, the bright red of the bunker corridor and the dark red of the blood from the Supes he ripped apart. Supes and whoever else was down there. 

Becca. Becca was down there too. 

Was she hoping to stop him? Stop Kessler? It was way too late now, she had to have known that. And even though she also was just a byproduct of his neurons dying off one by one, Butcher was mad that it was Kessler who got to see her. She wasn't real, she wasn't his Becca, she was just a hallucination. She was just him. Like Kessler. 

But he still wanted to hear her voice again.

When Billy woke up, he was in the driver's seat again and it was night already. This time, the control was given to him carefully, sensation by sensation, not all at once like after the bunker. 

"Oi, you twat." Butcher gripped the steering wheel again, feeling his hands as his again. 

Kessler was sitting back in the passenger's seat. "We're almost at the cabin. You're welcome." 

"I said I wanted to drive." Billy very quickly realized they were about to arrive at the very familiar driveway into the forest. He added more gas as soon as the surroundings began to make sense. 

"No, I know what you want." Kessler said and didn't elaborate, but the way Butcher sped up was enough of an answer for both of them. "You’ve been thinking about it ever since that gas station."

___________________

and if ur still reading... the original ending to the ch3 looked like this. before the very painstaking edit process the whole HL-on-Butchers-lap scene was WAY more... you know. more handsy. i decided to downplay it considerably bc I felt i was jumping the gun too early and im glad i did, i prefer butcher more tortured about the whole thing. this ending is like. its rly good but its basically the same moment from ch5 when homelander leans into the touch and calls butcher scared. i had to choose which one of these moments i get to keep and i went with the one in ch5 bc its one of the first scenes i ever wrote for this fic haha:

Homelander convulsed a few more times underneath his palm, groaning and half-sobbing violently. Butcher managed to start and flick away another cigarette before the body underneath his palm finally grew still. He realized he still hadn't taken his hand away. Homelander made another pathetic noise and spat loudly into the bowl, before shakily lifting himself away. He could barely hold his head up and had to immediately rest it on the toilet seat, pressing his cheek against it. His face was red, completely exhausted. Skin covered in sweat, both his eyes and his nose leaking fluids, a thread of drool on his lips. He looked completely devoid of coherent thoughts in his head, just complete blankness. Until he finally regained some focus in those wet, blue eyes. Homelander sluggishly blinked at Butcher. His eyes squinted, flicking downwards. And suddenly Homelander was smiling at him. A small, sleepy smile. 

"Are you hard right now?" He asked him, already knowing the answer.

Butcher looked down. And stormed out of the bathroom.

[howdoyousleep3]

Miss k hiiiiiiii hello hey 💜💜💜💜 I love your daddies so much they give me the most life ahhhh

so okay I’m a good lil southern girl although I moved away from the south and sometimes I like to let my redneck side come out and today is one of those times 😭 Im outside drinking shitty beer and listening to some old country music and uh I’m havin thots

I just wondered if you ever thought about a real country daddy steve and baby Bucky and what that might be like 😅🥵 like are they both down home country boys? Or does country boy (cowboy also acceptable) daddy steve show city baby boy a good ol country time or 🤤🤤 anyways idk if this will even tickle your fancy but like just know your daddies and babies live rent free in my head and even if you never imagine them as little country boys I doooooo okay bye ily

Ohhhhh, babey! You’re takin’ me back. Y’all know I grew up on a farm and in the country, sheesh. I have a super fucking weak and awful spot for someone that is country country, little southern garbage, ahaha. Give me the bonfires and the PBR (before it became cool and expensive?? I am beside myself lol) and the driving on backroads and giggin’ and those awful flannels with the sleeves cut off and driving way too fast down dirt roads.

Okay for full effect do listen to Big City by Merle Haggard. 🥰

I’ve thought about this kinda AU with Steve and Bucky so much. Like…so much and in all kinds of ways. It more than tickles my fancy, pumpkin. I’ve thought all about a City Boy Bucky rolling through a townsy bar on a Friday night and finding him a big ‘ol Farm Boy Steve and the two of them just falling head over ass for each other. Steve’s never seen anyone that resembles an angel on Earth until he sees those eyes and those lips upturned towards him. And Steve is everything Bucky never knew he could like, beard thick but not as thicc as those thighs and that ass, not donned in tailored suit pants, laugh boisterous, personality taking up as much space as his body does.

I’ve thought about Steve taking Bucky down by the river, teaching him how to catch a catfish with his bare hands, how to bait a hook, how to jump from the rope swing perfectly. I’ve thought about Steve teaching him how to shotgun a beer, how sweet his mama would be on Bucky and her teaching him how to make the perfect peach cobbler from scratch. I squeal inside when I think about Steve sitting there at the kitchen table watching his mama and the boy he’s sure he’s fallen in love with work together beautifully, the dopey look on his face when he takes a bite of Bucky’s warm cobbler and makes a surely inappropriate noise.

“Marry me, darlin’,” he’d joke with an underlying seriousness only he is aware of, and Bucky blushes up a storm, stammers. Steve is left with no choice but to pull Bucky into his lap and kiss him loudly on the cheek before finishing his helping and asking sweetly for another.

I’ve imagined the way they’d dance at the bar to Just Got Started Lovin’ On You, how close they’d be, all lined up together and Bucky moving so gorgeously and easily with Steve’s lead, the two of them looking so disgustingly in love. I’ve thought about the look of pride on Steve’s face when Bucky drinks a heckler right under the table, tequila simultaneously the best and worst thing to ever run through Bucky’s veins. Steve would stop Bucky from getting into a fight not shortly after his competitor concedes, wrapping Bucky up in two strong arms, mouth at his ear, eyes ablaze and wordlessly telling the other man to fuck right off or he’ll let this kitten go.

I’ve thought all about Bucky pushing at Steve, shouting about how he can walk to the truck, and then how he’d damn near topple over on his baby deer legs.

“You done bein’ a brat?” Steve would ask him.

“No. M’grown,” Bucky would huff as Steve wraps an arm around his waist and then picks him up under his knees anyway. Bucky biting him on the jaw for being right.

I’ve pictured Bucky reading to Steve out loud as they lay under a tree, sun high in the sky, hand knocking Steve’s hat off his head and playing with his hair as his head rests in Bucky’s lap. I’ve thought about Bucky explaining city life to Steve, the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple and how tall the buildings are and the job Bucky left behind. I’ve thought about the first time they fight, Steve getting up in his feels about how perfect and smart Bucky is and how he doesn’t deserve to be here with some country bumkin like him.

I’ve imagined how much it tears Steve up, seeing his sassy Buckaroo spittin’ and cryin’ because of him, how he’d let Bucky get in his face with a pointed finger and tell Steve that he better take his words back or else. He’d grab for and hold onto Bucky as he tries to run out of the kitchen and into the yard after Steve says he can’t take them back though, unable to watch Bucky leave.

(For full effect, make sure you do not listen to “Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain” by Willie Nelson, don’t do it, don’t)

I’ve imagined how their makeup sex has them both damn near in tears, how lucky Steve feels to be able to feel someone this close to his body and his heart, Bucky the prettiest thing he’s ever seen gasping there underneath him. I’ve imagined the way City Boy Bucky’s bottom lip would tremble, how his hands would run up and through Steve’s hair as he breathes, “I love you so…so much, Steve. Bubba…” right before Farm Boy Steve curses and cries and makes him come.

Oh yeah, I’ve thought all about this shit, my friend. I’ve let it consume me in full on numerous occasions. Maybe it’s because I projected and dreamt up my own little dream, hehe. Thank you for being in my inbox and for letting me pop off! I hope this is what you wanted. Lub you bunches. 💕

[whileyoursleeping]

a buddie fic, as requested last week! (im sorry this took so long omg work has been absolutely insane)

also yes i’ll take buddie prompts but i’m really terrible at getting around to writing them so if you do request something i’m super sorry if it takes me forever

prompt: Bucks off his blood thinners so they throw a little party since he never got one when he came back something happens like he gets cut by a gift and has to remind everyone except Maddie that he's off his meds finally

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

He really should've known a welcome back party was not a good idea.

Not like it was his choice - now that the lawsuit is over and the chill has passed, the family at 118 have welcomed him back with open arms and it's of course Hen's idea to throw him a welcome back party.

If Buck thinks about it the string of unfortunate events otherwise known as his life should've predicted some bad shit happening - first his leg is crushed, then the embolism, then he gets hit by a tsunami... the list is endless. But he's off the blood thinners, which is great, and now he can do everything he used to normally.

He can't help it. He loves his fire family and he loves being included again so when Hen announces it, he's all for it. He's back in the thick of it, with his family, being teased and shoved around playfully - he lives for it, he really does. He loves them. So fucking much.

The only downside is Eddie - things are better, but he's still a little reserved. Buck worries he's done real, lasting damage, and so he refuses to feel needy when he says, "Hey, man. Are you swinging by mine for the party tonight?"

Eddie smiles at him. "Wouldn't miss it."

There's beer and presents and someone has the idea to wrap one of them in a bunch of zip ties, and Buck - who can't find scissors - decides to use a knife to get into it.

A knife that promptly slips and cuts his palm open.

"Buck," Maddie sighs as the whole room goes quiet, in that patented my-little-brother-is-an-idiot voice. "You-"

"Let me see, Buck," Hen says gently, and Buck blinks at the sudden amount of fussing going on. Chimney's running for ice and a towel and Bobby is looking like he's one number away from dialling 911, and Eddie - Eddie's gone bone white which is weird.

"Guys," Buck says, over the sudden shuffle of trained medical professionals launching into action. "Guys, I'm not-"

"Elevate his hand," Hen orders. "Once we've got it wrapped we'll get him to the emergency room."

"But I'm not-" Buck protests.

"Is there a first aid kit around here?" Chimney's asking, and Eddie is taking Buck's hand and raising it above his head.

"Eddie," Buck says. "Eddie, I'm not-"

"Why does anyone let you near knives, Buckaroo?" Hen says, grabbing for a tea towel to press into the wound on his palm.

Buck wants to bask in being called Buckaroo again, but Eddie looks scarily blank, save for the little tic in his jaw that tells Buck he's concentrating. Nobody's listening to him for totally different reasons than they were a while ago, but still, Buck's frustrated that he can't even get a word in edgewise.

"Guys-" he tries again. He attempts pulling his hand away and wow Eddie has a great grip.

"Guys!" Maddie says, loudly, and everyone looks up at her. She nods at Buck.

"I'm not on blood thinners anymore," he explains, a little uncomfortable with the five sets of eyes on him. Normally he'd like it, the attention of the team - of Eddie - but it reminds him a little too much of why they were all cold shouldering him in the first place. "So... you know. It's fine."

He tries for a winning smile. Hen sits back, at least, but Eddie hangs his head and doesn't say anything.

"So we don't have to take you to the emergency room," Chim jokes.

"I think if you do they'll start charging me rent there," he jokes. He's trying to work out why Eddie still has his head down, looks ashamed.

Hen seems to realise what's going on, because she says something about the others helping her with things in the kitchen, and there's a round of agreement. Everyone disappears except Eddie, who at least moves to sit on the coffee table instead of the ground in front of Buck.

"Sorry I didn't tell you," Buck says - he's not sure if this is one of those things that's a big deal and Eddie will be upset over or not. He doesn't want Eddie to be upset, not right after they finally became friends again. "I would've told you, it just didn't seem that important."

"Can I see?" Eddie asks, totally ignoring everything else Buck just said.

Buck blinks, but he holds his hand out. Eddie's gentle as he flips Buck's hand over, palm up, and inspects the cut. It's already mostly stopped bleeding, which is so novel for Buck that even he finds himself staring at it. Or maybe he's staring at it as an excuse to watch Eddie touch him. No one needs to know the reason.

"It reminded me of the tsunami," Eddie says abruptly, finally making eye contact with him. He doesn't let Buck's hand go. "When I found you and Christopher. You had that cut on your arm, it was bleeding everywhere."

Buck has really vague memories of the aftermath of the tsunami. It all goes a little blurry once the team showed up and he collapsed, but he does remember a cut on his arm, how lightheaded he felt. He's not totally sure on how he got to a hospital afterwards either.

"Yeah," Buck says, slowly, trying to figure out the relevance of this to that. "That was uh - I was bleeding pretty bad. But this isn't like that, Eddie. I'm okay."

If he thinks about it, he can remember the throbbing pain in his head, over his eye. How his leg hurt. But mostly he just remembers the water and Chris screaming for him.

"I was more worried about Chris," he admits.

"I know you were." Eddie's still got his hand, but hasn't made a move to clean it or patch it up. "That's why you need someone to worry about you."

"You did though," Buck insists. He won't let Eddie feel bad about this, especially when it was Buck who lost Christopher. "I remember you came and got me at the hospital."

Eddie looks away from him. "Yeah," he says uncomfortably.

They're quiet for a moment. Eddie finally starts cleaning out the wound and Buck thinks back to that night - stumbling out of the emergency room, a fair bit of blood lighter and with rudimentary first-aid having been done, given that there were people hurt a lot worse, wondering how he was going to get home with his car six feet underwater.

And Eddie, in the waiting room, looking exhausted and strung out and who had hugged Buck the moment he saw him. Loaded him into the car, helped him into the house and found him clean clothes so he could shower and sleep.

There were no nightmares that night, because he was too tired and felt safe with both his Diaz boys in the same house.

He'd woken the next morning with Chris piled onto the couch next to him, and Eddie watching them over a mug of coffee in the kitchen. They'd staggered through the day, bone-tired and hardly speaking, and Buck had gone home distinctly feeling like he'd failed both of them.

"I mean," he says, out loud, because Eddie's got that little worry line in his forehead and his mouth is downturned and unhappy, "I lost Chris and you still came and got me-"

"You didn't," Eddie says, almost angry. "God, Buck, I didn't even know anything had happened until I saw you there. It didn't even cross my mind that something had happened because he was with you."

"I know," Buck says guiltily. "I - Eddie, man, I'm... I'm so sorry, if I could take it back-"

Eddie lets go of his hand abruptly, and Buck has a split second to wonder how he keeps making this worse for himself before Eddie's hand wraps around the back of his neck and he's dragged down into a kiss.

He's shocked, for a moment, and then he remembers this is Eddie who's always been there, Eddie who trusts him with Chris, Eddie who doesn't think he's a fuck-up or still Buck 1.0 or anything other than his best friend, and he kisses back, desperately, lunging into Eddie's warmth.

They separate after a moment, and Eddie leans his forehead on Buck's, his eyes closed.

"Buck," he says, softly, "I'm trying to say that I didn't think to worry about Christopher, for once in my life, because he was with you. Because he's safe with you. You're the only place I'm ever sure he's safe, other than me. That hasn't changed, okay? You were there for us when we needed you, and when you needed me I-"

His voice breaks. It's painful to listen to, and Buck shuffles closer, until their noses touch too, and puts his hands on Eddie's shoulders, presses his thumbs into the spaces between Eddie's neck and ears.

"When you needed me I failed you," Eddie croaks. "You were scared about your job and on blood thinners and you needed me and I just - I got angry, because I missed you, and I felt like you'd left like Shannon did, and I didn't even think that it was because you were trying to get back to us. And you still blame yourself. You pulled Chris out of the water, Buck. You. Not me, not abuela, not Pepa, not anyone else from the 118. You."

His eyes are stinging. He feels Eddie's hands on him, stroking him gently, soothing. "Stop," he whispers, and his voice breaks. "You're gonna make me cry, man. It's my welcome back party. I'm not supposed to cry."

Eddie laughs a little, then says, "I'm trying to tell you something, Buck."

"Yeah, I got it, what with the kiss and everything," Buck jokes weakly. "I - Eddie, I'm pretty messed up."

"My wife disappeared, came back, said she was divorcing me, then died," Eddie says. "We're even. I don't mind if you don't."

How could he ever? "So... what now?"

Eddie leans back. Buck feels a little less embarrassed when he sees that Eddie's eyes look a little wet too. "I'm gonna fix your hand," Eddie says. "And then we can tell everyone to stop eavesdropping from the kitchen."

There's a pause, and then Chimney's head peeks around the corner.

"We found scissors," he says sheepishly, and Buck laughs. He doesn't really care if they overhead. In fact, Maddie has that I-knew-it look on her face.

"I told you he didn't hate you," she says, patting him on the head.

He shakes her off playfully. "Not like you've been right before, so-"

"Do you want this present or not?"

"Sorry, Ma'am."

[ceealaina]

Out in the Cold

Title: Out in the Cold Author: ceealaina Rating: T Square Filled: G3 [Snowman] - @winterironbingo​ Y2 [Butts, Biceps, and Barnes] - @buckybarnesbingo​ Pairing: WinterIron Summary: Avengers press events are one of the worst parts of the whole superhero gig. But getting paired with Barnes (the man he just happens to have an unrepentant crush on) for an afternoon of snowman building? Tony’s had worse days. Link: AO3

Tony drew in a deep breath, preparing himself as best he could before the elevator doors opened and he was met with the rest of the team, looking up at him with hopeful, expectant faces.

“Sorry guys,” he told them, watching their faces fall one by one. “It’s a no go. We’re roped into this one, no excuses.” 

“Aww, come on,” Clint protested, slumping back into the couch cushions and pouting as he folded his arms across his chest. “But I don’t wanna.” 

Nat smacked the back of his head. 

Steve was the first to rally, because of course he was. “Come on, team. This is important. Like it or not, public relations is an important part of what we do.”

It might have been more believable if he wasn’t wincing like the words caused him physical pain. Beside him, Bucky rolled his eyes so hard it looked physically painful. Tony felt his lips twitch as he fought back a laugh, but of course Bucky noticed, giving him a wink that made heat flare low in his belly. The crush he had on Barnes was really getting ridiculous. 

“But it’s a freaking snowman building contest,” Clint whined. “What is this, the Christmas fun fair? We’re superheroes!” 

As per usual, everyone ignored him, reluctantly accepting that they weren’t getting out of this particular PR event and breaking up to do whatever it was that superheroes did on a Tuesday afternoon. For Tony, that meant brewing a fresh pot of coffee. He was leaning over the counter, inhaling the smell (it had been a very long morning) when he suddenly realized that Bucky was beside him, leaning back against the counter and looking down at him. Tony managed to keep himself from jumping, instead slowly raising his eyes to meet Bucky’s and waiting. 

“So.” Bucky gave him a grin, nudging him with a shiny metal elbow. “Wanna be partners?” 

Tony arched an eyebrow at him, straightening up again. “Partners?” 

“For the snowman building thing. We’re supposed to pair up, right? I’m calling dibs.”

Tony fought back the pleased looking grin that threatened to split across his face. “Moi?” he said instead, fluttering his eyelashes ridiculously until Bucky snorted and gave him a gentle shove. “Kinda figured you’d be pairing up with our fearless leader there, Buckaroo.”

Bucky looked so incredulous that Tony found himself fighting back a laugh. “ Stevie ?” he asked. “Nuh-uh, no way. I know how ridiculous that idiot gets over ‘art.’”

“Snowman building is an art now?” 

“It will be to him. He’ll get all particular and bossy... Nope, Sam can have ‘im.” 

“Oh well, in that case.” Tony held out his hand, beaming when Bucky grabbed it and gave it a firm shake. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Snowflake. Let’s win this thing.” 

***

The day of the competition dawned bright and clear. It hadn’t snowed in three weeks, but they’d brought in a snow machine special for the occasion. It was being held on the compound, giving the public a chance to see first-hand the private lives of their favourite superheroes, or some other public relations nonsense that had them all cringing a little. Ticket holders would get a tour of the more public areas of the compound before watching the snowman building competition and then there would be hot chocolate, cookies, and mingling inside. All the ticket money was going to charity, which explained away the sky high prices -- and, unfortunately, also explained away the number of rich, society-climbers who were attending. 

Tony, however, with the help of Friday and some carefully crafted aliases, had managed to buy about half the tickets himself, giving them away to underprivileged kids from the city, with free transportation included. It made them all feel a bit better about how weirdly invasive the whole thing seemed. 

Spectators had started arriving hours before it was due to start, and by the time they all trooped outside for the actual competition, they were wound up and cheering. 

“Oh boy,” Tony muttered, quiet enough that only Bucky would hear as he put on his brightest press smile and waved with mitten-clad hands. “No pressure or anything.” 

Bucky grinned and, when they’d turned out of view of everyone, winked. “Come on, Stark. We’ve totally got this.”

Tony grinned up at him. “Fuck yeah.” 

***

One hundred and fourteen minutes later, he wasn’t so sure. They should have had it in the bag. Three entries down from them, Wanda and Vision were making a fucking ice sculpture, which, what the fuck? Whatever, they’d lose on a technicality -- it was a snowman competition, not an ice man competition, thank you very much. Nat and Peter had given up about ten minutes in, and Nat had spent the entire time showing Peter her favourite moves on the lopsided snow block that they’d created. Clint had ended up pairing with Bruce, who had bowed out at the last minute due to rage issues (they all knew he was faking it). Clint had built the most cursory snowman ever and then wandered off in search of a warm drink and hadn’t come back. 

The problem was that Tony kept getting distracted. Barnes’ pants seemed extra tight today, or maybe it was just the cut of his new ski jacket, but either way his ass looked phenomenal today. On more than one occasion, Tony had had to shake himself out of a temporary, butt-induced stupor. And, like most super soldiers, Bucky had a tendency to run hot. Hot enough that at some point he’d stripped out said ski jacket, leaving him in that tightly fitted red Henley that featured in many of Tony’s favourite fantasies, biceps bulging as he lifted heavy mounds of snow. 

Not that ogling Barnes’ butts and biceps (and thighs, and back, and face…) was a bad way to spend an afternoon necessarily. But while Tony had been distracted, Team WinterIron’s (Bucky’s idea, but Tony had to admit the name was growing on him) snowman had come out looking kind of… aggressive. He had a frown, with angry eyebrows, and Tony was pretty sure that Bucky was putting the finishing touches on a gun belt around the snowman’s waist. It looked especially bad next to the all-American Christmas scene that Sam and Steve had built beside them, complete with a bald eagle, because Sam thought he was hilarious. (He kind of was, but Bucky wouldn’t let Tony give Sam the satisfaction of knowing that.) 

Tony frowned at their entry speculatively, trying to figure out if there was anything else they could do in the six -- no, five minutes remaining. “It looks like it could kill someone,” Tony announced, poking at it haphazardly. 

Bucky shrugged, offering him a grin over the top of the snow-ssassin’s head. “That’s kinda what I like about ‘im.” 

“No!” Steve wailed behind them. “That line has to be at 45 degrees, Sam. Fourty. Five! Not fourty six!” 

Tony caught Bucky’s eye and the two of them burst out laughing. 

***

They lost, because of course they did, but it was hard to feel too bad about it. They’d had a great afternoon, laughing and throwing snow at each other, and Tony at least had all but forgotten about the adoring public watching their every move. Sam, on the other hand, looked ready to punch Steve’s teeth in, and had spent the afterparty thus far studiously avoiding the other man. Tony would take Team WinterIron’s second place standing in a heartbeat. 

The party was, at least, going better than Tony had expected. They’d been able to avoid the most annoying of the donors by hanging out with the kids the whole time -- nobody could really call them out on it unless they were an irredeemable asshole, and while there were one or two of those present, a stern lecture from Captain America on the reason they were all really there had been enough to deter them from making a fuss. There were Christmas trees and lights decorating the area, and Pepper was an absolute angel who’d managed to arrange for a Santa Claus to come and give out gifts to all the kids. Even Clint had warmed up to the event, and they all seemed to be actually having a good time. 

Tony had slipped away for a breather and was standing half hidden behind a Christmas tree, sipping on warmed apple cider, when he felt someone looming up behind him. Lips curling up in a smirk, he glanced back at Bucky. 

“You’ve gotta stop sneaking up on me there, Bucky Bear.” 

Bucky grinned back at him. “But where would the fun be in that?” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “So, did you get a chance to see Santa? Tell him what you want for Christmas?”

“Well…”

There was an odd tone to his voice, and Tony glanced at him to find… was he blushing ? He blinked at Bucky, who bit his lower lip and seemed to steel himself. 

“All I want for Christmas is you.” 

Tony stared at him a minute, and then he started to laugh, pleased and delighted. “Are you…Is this a joke?” 

Bucky shrugged, looking shy but hopeful. “Delivery, maybe,” he admitted with a crooked grin, voice a little hoarse. “But not the sentiment behind it.”

Tony beamed at him and then, after a quick look to make sure nobody was watching them, he darted forward to plant a quick kiss on Bucky’s lips. 

At least, it was meant to be a quick kiss. Bucky’s hands came up faster than he’d expected, gripping his waist and pulling him in close, deepening the kiss. They were both breathing a bit harder when they pulled away. 

“Yeah,” Tony admitted, having to clear his throat when his voice came out a little more high-pitched and giddy than he’d intended. “Yeah, that sounds like a good Christmas gift to me.” 

Bucky positively beamed at him, giving him another quick kiss, a little more needy this time. Tony hummed softly, and was just wondering how long they’d have to stick around before they could reasonably slip away, when another thought occurred to him. 

“Wait, aren’t you Jewish?” 

Bucky just shook his head and laughed. “Shut up, Stark.” 

[silvrwore-blog]

---------- OOC.

hi im mitch : ) im a big f*king idiot, too. let me preface this by saying it is currently uhhhhhh 6 AM est and i still haven’t slept yet !!! i thunk i started this around 10 PM last night but im slow. really slow. everything about this ??? a hot mess ™ . it isn’t going to make a lick of sense !! but thanks for stopping by sdkjsadklsd. anywhomst im mitch, i’m twenty, in the est, and im ready to rock and roll buckaroo. my guy here? he’s an idiot. but he’s my idiot. therefore, i have to love him. the history is long ( i know because i started there first ) so ill make a little tl;dr with some simplified notes on him. i think that covers ??? everything ?? so far ? im always down to plot in the DMs or i have discord at oovoo javer #4855 mwuah !!

---------- APPLICATION.

( jack lowden, twenty-seven, cismale, he/him ) – have you seen bennett sharpe, the financial strategy student around oxford yet? i hear they can be conforming and convivial, but those who know them insist they’re reminded of beige turtlenecks and plaid blazers, eraser shavings on an old oak desk, and eagerly belting out the latest tunes when they’re around. rumor has it that due to stress, he had a breakdown in high school that put him a year behind his peers and his family has tried to cover it up. is it true? only time will tell… ( mitch, twenty, she/her, est )

---------- HISTORY.

THEY’D ALMOST STRUCK GOLD with bennett sharpe. smart enough not to have to buy your way into college, but not smart enough for his peers to despise him. the gusto of an entertainer and the charm of a damn good politician ------------ but they’d never been quite able to buff out that chip on his shoulder.

the sharpe’s were an interesting case. too good to slum it with the poor folk but not rich enough to always be able to sit at the BIG table. a family who paved their way in law and then literature. blood in the supreme courts and in those scandelous little novels that housewives sipped a glass of wine over. at least that had been his mother’s contribution to the family fortune ----- a wonderful dinner conversation.

--------- “ oh mother, what raunchy debauchery are you slaving away at now ? “

bennett was the oldest of three ( followed by one girl and then another boy ). he was a good son. would have been a real golden child to anyone else --- well, with a little love, care & patience. normal family things. from a young age he had a memory unmatched and a love of strategy games. a youth who loved to test his brain. which was fine and dandy, however, it wasn’t quite leading up to being a judge. he wasn’t following in his family’s footsteps. he’d gotten a little... off track. he had just been better with numbers. money crunching. equations. it had been a tough pill for his family to swallow but swallow it they would. afterall, it hadn’t been their biggest concern when it came to their oldest son. 

it had always been there. carefully covered up with the occasional “ he’ll grow out of it “ or  “ stop it. nothing is wrong. “ maybe that had been the real giveaway to why he’d never amount to anything big. “ he’s FRAIL. no spine. “ a good and competent doctor would have had him diagnosed and taken care of. seventeen and he’s missing classes but not for normal rich kid things. the world’s bigger and scarier than it ever was. college and a future right around the corner, parental pressure, it snowballs until it is all too much. one day of important testing and bennett sharpe never shows. he had not been on campus at all. sometimes when the panic became too much, it did him well to distract his mind ---- go outside. count the blades of grass or the birds in the sky. breathe. it’s what he had done that afternoon. left and tried to sate his mind. but nothing had done it for him that day. nothing to cure him. the world? bleak. the future? uncertain. weapy and tore down. the little devil on his shoulder named ‘ desperation ‘. he needed out. his parents phone and the message becomes crystal clear... 

--------- “ i can’t do this. “

so he’d ‘” turned tail and ran “, branded some sort of listless coward. he didn’t know what was wrong with himself, nor did his parents. the only thing they were certain of was that they would not have a son coming apart at the seams. they’d grilled him. no one was going to take him seriously or he’d never find himself in any important position if he was always going to go chicken. a breakdown never looked good. it did not matter to the rich or the poor, one would still be ridiculed. but corporations wanted someone steely, confident, put-together. all the things bennett was not becoming. so they’d contacted his school - wrote it off as a vacation. save face. “ oh i got bored. decided to go to switzerland instead ! couldn’t miss it, you see a chance of a lifetime had just presented itself to me, so.... “. however, no donations or pleading on his parents part were going to make up lost time. bennett was held back a year for being unable to complete the necessary testing and exams. oh how he would have to sell that vacation. but it hadn’t quite been a vacation, had it? long days trying to put together the pieces. some days were easier than others. some time to try and buff out that chip. the chip remained.

years down the line and one enrolment to oxford and he’s a lot better than where he started. he’s found ways to cope. some good. some bad. he’s more indendent than ever which has led him to branch out and take care of himself. no watchful eye of mother and father needed. perhaps that’s why he now has therapy pamphlets tucked away inside untouched textbooks. away from prying eyes. just an idea, maybe one day he would water it and watch it grow. go see someone. anyone. now he’s cheery. lively. a staple at parties. heeds his father’s advice and brushes shoulders with the right people. finds himself in the right places. the future is looking bright. oxford may soon to be a closed chapter in his life, but the years had been good to him. until, well, they weren’t. 

the riot club had been for the best. extravagant. a little bit of chasing the finer things in life. that had worked out just well for him. death had never been a thought --- or at least it was always kept at a distance. never upclose or personal. a relative here or there, miles away, he’d barely given it a thought. a funeral and they were gone. parties and death were not supposed to intermingle. maybe that was why it was so jarring. the world is a little heavier, bearing down on him once more. he tries not to pay it any mind when he has to excuse himself twice more than usual for a smoke outside. brushes off clammy hands like they’re nothing. accidents happened. he’d find solace in that word --------- accident. 

---------- SPARKNOTES / TL;DR.

voted most likely to be that annoying fuck outside your dorm at 3 am who doesn’t know how to turn down the volume 

dumb enough to try anything once

despite some tough times he’s just ??? full of life ??? life is a PARTY. and he’s making the most of it now, thank you very much. 

“ are you not ENTERTAINED ? “

he’s not the worst,,, but he’s not the best. yknow?

nice enough to get drunk and talk to just about anyone but snobby enough that you bet he’s going to make some insensitive comments. it’s that -- not rich rich enough to be totally elite, but not hurting enough to be able to sympathize with people who aren’t bringing in a f*ck ton of money. 

his family ( on his dad’s side ) has always been involved in law. typically judges, and some who have made it to be top dog in their fields. his mother is a writer who does rather well. she’s published a handful of book and his father has also published law-related books which brings in money. his dad is pretty high up in the field but bennett’s got his suspicions that some of the income might just be payoffs. i wouldn’t envision his father as being someone hard to be bought. he might want to grill his son for being spineless or weakwilled but i’d imagine that’s just a family trait inherited. 

which uhh brings me to my next point. bennett can be a bit of a follower. there’s not a whole lot of “NO” in him. which may also hurt his relationships because he’s not going to stand against injustices or anything if it is going to put him in harm’s way. which may help perpetuate that rich or snobby idea surrounding him because he’s not about to stand up for the common folk if they’re being belittled for their threads or schooling.sure, he might talk to them here or there in the right occasion but he’s not going to stand for them. he’s sitting pretty. he’s not looking to ruin that. 

essentially he’s not going to have your back unless it benefits him. 

as far as his secret goes, i think he’s worried about the stigma around mental health and how he’d be perceived but i think a lot more has to do with his family. because he knows they won’t be happy if it gets out or if something further happens. they just ain’t supportive in that department, chief. but he doesn’t want to be cut off or anything and not just because he’d be worried about who was putting money in his pockets. he just doesn’t want to stir the pot any further, even though he should really seek help. i kind of vagued on it but i’d say he has gad ( generalized anxiety disorder ). 

---------- CONNECTIONS.

am i picky?? nah. if he can fill something, slot him in. we can chit chat. mwuah

i already know this section is gonna get so neglected because im too tired to think

uhh give me an under the wing sort of relationship ?? listen if bennett can’t repair himself maybe he can touch up someone else. someone he might see something in. buds ? who knows ? not me. but it could b cute. 

long time friends !!! doesn’t have to be since childhood but someone(s) he’s known for a while now and they click. 

anything angsty ? is good too. 

typical friends / enemies plots too !! spice things up. 

i need sleep : ) good night !!!!!!!!!!

[odeuteros-blog]

                --------------------- deutero- ;

                                                               second; secondary: //; (  deu·ter·ag·o·nist :  the person second in importance to the protagonist in a drama. )

           hey what up i’ve got stats homework im neglecting !!

    * slaps the roof of this post * this bad boy can fit so much useless fucking info in it ( including my ooc intro but like , ) 

     ----- alrighty lets rock & roll buckaroos i’m linx, i’ve been on this earth two decades too long,,, and i’m in the est. canada baby. i’m super excited to write w/ y’all and i haven’t written an oc in ten years so bear w/ me & my word vomit yea?

mattias eriksson was born and raised ( for the most part)  in an itty bitty tiny fishing village in iceland. by itty bitty we’re talking a population of about 300 ( pretty much based off suðureyri ). he was the middle child in a family that was ( now looking back ) at most times insufferable.

there’s tragedy somewhere in there. before he was capable of remembering anything. his parents sung praises when it came to his older brother but time reveals all truths. or at least articles and news clippings do.  he’s four ( give or take ) when his brother is ‘ murdered ‘ by a super-human. he’s about fifteen when he puts the pieces together ( his brother wasn’t savagely murdered - on the contrary - he antagonized and harassed the ability harnessing girl until it boiled over & blew up in his face. all too literally. ) finally, he’s nineteen when he gets the FUCK out of there. 

plenty happens in the in-between. he’s raised in an intolerant household. anyone who wasn’t STRICTLY human was an abomination, a curse, a plague upon this earth. his parents constantly spitting venom when it came to the loss of their firstborn son // while matti, conflicted, found it hard to mourn for a man he hardly knew. his focus much more so on his younger sister - who was, well, alive. there. real. 

from a young age, he thrived on challenge. puzzles. anything to exercise the brain. there was always a better way to do something. he was often scolded for sticking his nose where it didn’t need to be - in adult business. eventually having enough of being chased off - he branched out. made some friends. two, in particular, stood out. a brother and sister ;  patrek and magnea. in time the trio was inseperable. 

eventually, a strain showed itself. patrek didn’t fit the strict /human/ criteria that mattias’ had grown up on - but time healed wounds, and his had barely been there. he couldn’t carry his parent’s grief. couldn’t pin that on his friend. but patrek’s secret wasn’t his to keep and it came out - with it came an unspoken ultimatum ; cut his ties with his friends or suffer the consequences with his family. the choice was fairly clear, though no less painful.

knowing there was nothing there for him in his hometown, except a life of fishing, it was time to take leave. the siblings aspired for more just as he did & so the three parted with their respective homes. no goodbyes. no notes. mattias leaves while his parents are at work - his biggest regret to this day is never saying goodbye to his sister. if they knew, he’d never have been able to leave. he needed the headstart. 

like something out of a film, patrek aspired to do more with his abilities and so begun mattias’ life as the man behind the scenes. finally able to stick his nose in ‘ adult business ‘. it was a bit campy - but it was exciting. they lived a life on the road, constantly moving. helping where they could. mattias learned his way around technology, being hands on where he could. however, he never wished for the limelight. did not want to be on the spread of a newspaper. he just wanted to help his friends. there was some petty theft on their part ( you had to eat and sometimes money was short ) but they managed to stay on the straight and narrow. this lasted for three years.

something had to go awry eventually. he’s too close to the scene, catches an injury that initially looked, not horrible. a scar would become a permanent fixture on his skin - but he’d survive. --------- until infection sets in. until it blossoms into something their petty medical skills can’t cover. maybe slapping some bandages and medical tape on it & calling it a day hadn’t been such a good idea. they were still kids ---- and they’d fucked up. 

their hand is forced. petrek and magnea drop him off at the nearest hospital - welcome to crystalline city - and have no choice but to continue on their way less their reputation should precede them and they get caught up with law enforcement. sometimes it was just easier to be ‘ the man behind the scenes ‘. 

one hefty hospital bill later and he’s now resident in crystalline - much, MUCH, larger than where he’d originated. there’s some forgery on his part and plenty of loans and he eventually lands himself an apartment with the bare minimum. it’s a lot at twenty-two with an education that is scarce on paper - but he’s worldly & where there’s a will, there’s a way.

you can’t say he doesn’t have drive. it takes some time to scout out a job but he’s not above some begging and pleading if he has to ( he wants to keep that roof above his head somehow ). haggis tech is his beacon of hope and saving grace * finger guns to the real MVP harriet haggis. perhaps there was embellishing on his part - a resume and interview really was just about selling ones self - but he knew he had what it took to back it up - and nothing he’d ever done thus far was out of malintent. eventually ( more like somehow ) he lands on the radar of the harriet haggis and finds himself as a trainee. godspeed. 

TL ; DR or the simplified summary

he’s just happy to be here.

on an emo note ; the type of person to feel lonely in a room full of people. would rather shy away from large crowds. 

perpetually homesick even though his family / save for his sister / were assholes. they were still his mom and dad. also probably a little heartbroken because the likelihood of them ever looking for him or putting out a missing person notice is slim to nothing and he knows it - probably checked. shit was just too :/ rough. the relationships were kind of shot.

probably checks in on their online activity - discreetly though. like a window into their lives. it’s probably the part of his life he keeps tight-lipped about. partly ashamed and partly hurt. 

& his friends kind of up and left him in the city so that adds to that sweet sweet homesick feeling. since that was his last tie. 

probably also overcoming his conflicted feelings about people with abilities. it’s more like having to correct a negative thought. he knows it's not true - but he can’t help but feel it upon first meeting. oh they’re inherently dangerous. but like ?? he sees heroes all the time. 

wanted/ideas for connections !!

give me that replacement for his little sibling. someone he dotes on. just let him fill ONE void in his life. 

someone who he’s just like ?? attached himself to. something about them makes him feel better. the kind of relationship where he’s put himself on their doorstep waiting for them to come home. he’s that friend who spends more time at your house than their own. he’s pretty solitary but this is like the one person(s) that he likes to just have occupied space?? like they don’t even have to be doing anything - just the presence alone is enough - listen im jsut trying to fill this sense of loneliness in his life don’t @ me. if you want to spice things up this person can be a villain / someone he probably shouldn’t be associating himself with. 

honestly im an angst hoe too so like throw anything angsty at me - enemies, friends to enemies idc. 

friends are fine

GIVE ME A BICKERING. oof i love a good hate/love. 

rivals

someone he might be trying to steer back onto the right path of life idk i mean he’s not squeaky clean but like out of villainy ?? that shits wack.

 he’s my dumb son and i LOVE HIM. sk;ld also my dumbass doesn’t have discord but if you want to plot my IMs are open just like ??? know me and plotting have a rocky relationship.