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anonil88 · 4 years ago

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Malcolm and Marie live blog

I don't usually do liveblogs for movies but yea.

Spoilers ahead!!

I love that its modern timed but very 70s stylized.

A tune indeed.

When you are high and drunk on success and

How the white critic reacts is why I feel like gatekeeping my scripts. At the same time some things I do make are about race or involve.

Marie sitting on the patio smoking is a mood whenever men are talking.

So he's pretentious and unaware.

Whoever chose the music for this, I feel like we would be Spotify mutuals.

Can this nigga stop pacing.

Also can he stop talking;

Marie is so tired and unimpressed.

Also little booties matter and are to be bitten.

Oooo the tension and the jazz.

Title Card over mac and cheese.

Shitty boxes mac and cheese but still mac and cheese.

Tbh i always wonder if spouses/significant others get upset when their spouses don't acknowledge them during speeches.

John sounds so much like his dad but I really hope his acting style differs from his dad a lot.

Guilty confession?

He did not profit off of his partners backstory and then not even acknowledge her.....I.....

If that ever happened to me catch me cussing my partner out during the beginning credits, the end credits, in the car, and at home.

GASLIGHTER!

The way I'm excited for Zendaya to give me some, oooo can she work with Regina King. Please on my knees I pray.

Um no that's not your job to coddle your lead.

He's a dick and the type of dick who makes himself look like a good person around other people.

If Sam Levinson is trying to make his viewers more of misandrist, it's working.

I feel like Marie has her flaws probably a lot of them and we will surely see as this continues, but Malcolm needs to learn how to apologize sincerely.

70s vibes! 70s vibes!

Them kissing and talking about criticism and dreams makes me miss a partner. A partner that I've had and haven't had.

Women really are behind every great man.

Yea sir you fucked a happy moment.

Oh visual allegories for looking in from the outside and cat and mouse chasing and looking from the outside in.

She's saying she doesn't feel noticed by you.

Gas lighter :0 he called her an emotional support dog, bruh.

I would LOVE to co-write or take a writing class held by Sam Levinson. The fights i write are very much in this same realm of reflection and anger and monologue.

Sam.....sam.....are all the sides inside of you doing okay sir?

The ugly side of dating and being in a relationship with someone who struggles with their own demons.

Honestly I could close my eyes and listen to this script being read without seeing these characters visually. Just close my eyes and get a sense of these characters like it was a radio story.

Oh. Oh this is a new wheelhouse of Zendaya acting; a different voice is like breaking through here and her expressions aren't the same we are used to. You can literally hear another character in there....hmm.

Mans is outside really fighting with his invisible demons lmfao.

Selfish ass, how after everything she said you came out of it thinking about your own craft and self instead of how you hurt her.

So she's conditional.

Me: did sam (a white man) say nigga this many times in his script or are the actors adding their own inflections. Not just the lingo used but the topic of race and directing etc. being written by a white writer about black characters is always gonna be a critique when you're writer is a white person.

Alexa play Broken Girls by Saba

He is so hurtful.

A clown nigga a clown look in the fucking mirror you bozo head ass looking like you need some Mehron clown white and a size 16 in clown shoes.

John is doing a really swell performance and reading of these lines.

He is reading her for her insecurities by bringing up his experiences with other women and that.....is yikes.

Arguments can get messy like this in real life but it takes a lot of maturity and control to either not let it get to this point or have a healthy conversation afterwards.

This film is really shot on some very crisp lenses.

They sitting there like 🚬🧍‍♀️🧍‍♂️.

Leftover Mac and Cheese and unfinished cigarettes.

The nyt etc. pay walls are so annoying, but there is a work around look at the articles on incognito or add a period at the end of the url.

He sounds like his daddy so much here, weird, this is the only part I'm eh on the dialogue it feels real but a bit out of pace in how they are bouncing off one another.

Nail scissors? So the end is not the only part he based off of Marie. 🙄

ITS A GOOD REVIEW YOU DINGUS but also its a full review they are going to critique things. She isn't wrong though he did profit off of a woman's story that was not his own to profit from.

Yes Malcolm because unfortunately all marginalized people look through a lens of life that is inherently political because of the world they live in.

He is so mad and upset and had a lot on his chest. But I think he Malcolm and Sam are talking about something thats an issue and a non issue. Being critiqued for you art is hard but also Malcolm is not super self aware. He's like a stand in figure of for example rich depop sellers who wanna be oppressed so badly they yell at others instead of examining their own personal behaviors and ethics.

Oh Marie, when you know the spark is gone and you pick fights because.

He ain't even ask her to read?

One critic I have for most of hollywood actors is they learn their cry and that is it. A change from this is Margot Robbie, I adore her fluctuations of crying being similar but the crying is carried differently for each character. If I had to say any actor that does a cry scene amazing its this woman right here (Amy Adams)

You stole her story from her and gave it away, she has a right to be upset and angry and a rubber band ball of emotions.

Citizen Kane, not the cinematography, but the story is it even that good? (Unpopular opinion but meh, maybe in my rewatch it will be better.)

But that is what people want authenticity and whatever authenticity means to them. What is real for one is false for another.

To be honest look at the criticism of Euphoria, well earned, but a lot of people were like this isn't real even though he literally wrote about his own life. People said it was inauthentic like....wtf.

Ahh the smoking is just a habit, he quit and she didn't.

CAST ZENDAYA IN A HORROR MOVIE PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING. Get Lupita and Zendaya and some more black actors preferably less known ones in a horror movie. One with a interesting script and story, directed by Regina King. Please and thankyou.

I love Marie yep that was amazing.

Behind every great man is a greater woman, one that deserves her credit for how she has stood behind. I wonder the stories of those women, what they have sacrificed or not sacrificed. Their thoughts and feelings when the world is surrounding their partner and views them as a plus one. (I'd write a short script about this but I think do I have the time, can I, or am I equipped ?)

He is a shitty person for bringing up his exes, like she even said I don't wanna know any of that.

Imagine being on anti depressents and rarely having a sex drive and then when you do your partner starts talking about their exes and tearing you apart for all your faults.

I love when you see peaks of Zendaya's cadence in roles.

Tension, what if's and he didn't even bring her up in his speech.

Marie to herself and the audience:

He is not afraid that he will loose her but as my character says in my unreleased story, "i can't wait til you give me a fucking reason to leave your ass." Malcolm expects everything in order for not even doing the bare minimum and she is only asking him for something as simple as consideration. She just wants him to be considerate. He wants to get married and considers their relationship like rolling down a hill at full speed and he cannot apologize, he cannot be considerate, and he cannot admit his wrongs. He can only offer her I love yous that he probably does mean but he does not back up outside of what he's done for her in the past. The past which was more of her experience than his and he sees his part in it as a burden. He doesn't use his own vantage point of the past to further his career he uses her. He does all of these things without a real apology or thankyou because he is not afraid to loose her.

The restrictions of quarantine and the panorama have made Sam's writing very no frills. I wonder how other films from other directors and writers that are filmed in small contained crews like this will be structured. But this was a very good movie gonna add to my letter box 3.3-3.5

Oh shit this is my song,

Ratings/overall thoughts:

Script is like a C+, B- : I could go into my heavier big brain thoughts on the script but I don't feel like it. You catch hints of it above it centers conversation on race and privilege, mainly the writers and questions i have that won't be answered but Sam did make me grow disdain for Malcolm over a short time. Which is sometimes hard to do because im one sympathetic person but the sympathy i have for Malcolm is at 0. Maybe a 2 at some scenes but then it quickly goes back to 0. Some parts of the dialogue miss the mark or hit the are off balanced. While some of it like Malcolm's bathroom speech albeit mean is really strong or their conversation when he comes back from peeing really shines for me.

Performances: B+ to A- because they carried the script further than it could of gone with less talented actors. The monologues do well to showcase their current skill levels which are already high af and leave room for anticipation in where these actors go next.

Zendaya holding a knife: A+ with a gold star. That switch on and off and on is delectable.

John being a shitty boyfriend but following Marie like a lost puppy: B+ with a good job written at the bottom of the paper, Malcolm being nervous a frantic dialed up with more realistic nervousness would have sold me completely on Malcolm's anxious waiting.

Cinematography: A and a participation award.

The mac and cheese: A+ for the easy mac. Wish it was like Annie's or Velveeta.

Cigarettes: Participation award and their picture hung up for student of the month. Why the grill lighter? Everytime Malcolm opened up his mouth Marie was like sparks fly.

The music: A++ with a prize. Whoever picked the music probably makes good Spotify playlists.

#Malcolm & Marie #malcolm and marie #zendaya coleman #zendaya #john david washington #liveblog #mine

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wizkiddx · 4 years ago

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...surprise

um okay so here I am trying angst again. this is kind of intended to be open ended bcos might have a part two at some point. im also lazy and has a few time jumps. also if someone could pls explain if you just get pics for the top of these off internet or credit on like gifs or something that’d be appreciated.

Summary: Tom comes home and everything is most definitely not the way he left, nor is it healthy

Warnings: please read with caution esp relationship with food / weightloss, but just generally a person in a bad bad head space, lots of self blame - then next parts will carry different warnings too

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Tom had been away for months. Months and months away from his girlfriend, separated entirely by his filming locations in Europe and America; while you were busy slowly and steadily climbing the ranks of your law firm. Being an intense period for the pair, you hadn’t managed to see each other in 2 and a half months. Of course, both go you were used to this - 3 years deep into a relationship between an actor and a wanna-be lawyer- this was the name of the game.

But honestly? You both just kept falling deeper and deeper, making the separation harder to deal with - rather than getting used to it as one might hope.

That's why Tom felt such an incredibly overwhelming wave of relief as he dumped his bags just outside his front door. Even though he was exhausted from the travelling, just the mere act of finally phishing out his housekeys brought a massive grin to his face - caused particularly by the sight of his tacky little keyring from a Moroccan market that you’d bought him. That had been your first holiday. There’s that old saying that before you move in with someone go on holiday first - Tom understood it to mean you supposedly see all the bad and ugly stuff people can hide from each other, a prewiring before committing to living in the same space. However that holiday all he’d learned was incredible you are to him. To his dying day, Tom will never forget the moment he looked over to his left when the two of you were on this night time stargaze in the depth of the Moroccan desert. Y/n had never seen stars like it, the skies so incredibly clear and lit up with an array of magical blues and purples and whites on its sark background. The sight, for no unexplainable reason, had you completely opening up to Tom about things she’d never told a single soul. And in that moment he’d had this sort of realisation. Not about how much he loved her - because that is just the cliche thing everyone says… and also just wasn’t true.

In that moment he’d rather realised the potential. The sort of ‘I’m not there yet but I know you could become the centre of my universe’. The sort of ‘I’m not ready to say this yet, but I want to spend my life with you’. The sort of ‘at some point in my life I’m not sure my heart will be able to beat without yours��.

He still hadn’t quite got to explicitly saying all that yet, by asking you for the ultimate commitment. But he planned to now he was coming back to you.

Even with the chill of the early evening winter air, Tom was almost ecstatic as he unlocked the door and let himself in. He hadn’t told you that he was coming home, you thought he had another two weeks on the job, but Tom was a bit of an old romantic - he loved seeing your eyes fill with wonder as he surprised you in whatever way. Sometimes it was as simple as a note on the fridge, or a small bouquet from behind his back or as fancy as a surprise holiday.

However, this time, though it was only 6 in the evening, all the lights of their house were off making Tom raise an eyebrow as he quietly slipped off his shoes - not wanting to scare Y/n just in case.

Tom had sworn when he’d been on the phone with you the previous day, you didn’t have any plans tonight but perhaps maybe a spontaneous pub trip and been offered with work colleagues. The house felt a little cold as he padded through it, poking his head into every room just to check Y/n wasn’t there. His last port of call was the bedroom.

By this point, Tom was pretty resigned on the fact you were out and he’d maybe cook a meal for when you got back or hide about the house or something. But instead, when he poked his head around this door, he sighed in delight at the sight of a still mound under the plush white sheets. For a brief moment, Tom paused, before tiptoeing steadily round to her bedside. The light was still off but the hallway light illuminated the room enough so he could make out your soft features and the messy ball of hair that had been haphazardly thrown in a bun. Furthermore, he could also notice in the light the packet of painkillers and migraine tablets lying opened on the bedside - which made him freeze. Y/n didn’t get migraines often at all, but when she did Tom knew just how bad they could be. That explained the fact you were spark out at six o’clock, making Tom give a sympathetic smile. He crept back out the room with a little spring in his step, deciding that since he had had a long day travelling he'd grab a snack and join you. Unfortunately though, when he enthusiastically yanked the fridge open the sight was a rather depressing one. He didn’t really know what he was craving but the fridge contents were of almost no use to anyone. The place was bloody baron, apart from a tub of butter and of course his special beers that Y/n would never dare touch. With a small huff though, Tom resigned himself to some bread and butter, before getting ready for bed.

It was probably an hour later when Tom was carefully crawling under the duvet to settle in beside Y/n after the disappointing snack and maybe a solitary ‘welcome home beer’ - it would be rude not to. God was he excited to just have his girlfriend in his arms again though. So, Tom naturally reached over and powerfully yet gently pulled you back towards him - making your back flush with his as you mumbled something incoherent. Chuckling slightly at your apparent annoyance of being disturbed, Tom pressed a kiss to her temple before settling down momentarily.

But something wasn’t quite right, making Tom shuffle about a bit - ever adjusting huis grasp on your waist as he attempted to get comfy. With the migraine medications forcing you into a deep deep sleep you barely stirred and that just made the unease increase for Tom. Because you didn’t feel right. This didn’t feel right. Ever so slowly Tom started to peel back the duvet from your body from his now sitting upright position. Typically, Y/n was wearing one of his hoodies, however more concerningly it seemed to pool and collect around your frame more than normal.

Now, Y/n was never the most petite person in the world - by no means overweight, instead of beautiful curves and muscle. To Tom now though, it was as if someone had literally shrunk you - like a picture on a word document you needed to make narrower to fit the margins. Even in the dim light of the bedroom he know realised you looked pale. Honestly, Tom didn’t know how long he just sat there staring at you, until you sighed a little and pulled the duvet back up to just under your chin.

He didn’t know what to think or do. All he knew was you didn’t look well and that you hadn’t said a thing to him. Feeling so very uncomfortable within himself, Tom climbed out the bed and simultaneously grabbed his phone. He knew he had to call someone, to check that you hadn’t been ill - but then who to call? Someone that wouldn’t judge or instantly worry- your mum was completely off the cards. Also, he hadn’t even given you the chance to explain yet, so really he knew there was only a couple of options who were close enough to him too.

“Hey what’s up?” “Um nothing much, back in the UK though so-“ “Oh shit really! Kept that one quite bro” “Yeh well came back to surprise Y/n” “Oh you're soooo whipped” “Fuck off Haz, have you um… have you seen her recently anyway?” “You're asking me if I’ve seen your girl while you’ve been away?” “I’m being serious. You’re pretty much brother and sister and I’m -I’m a bit worried.” “What? You know she wouldn’t cheat especially with me” Haz’s tone turned less serious, using a goofy accent “ I know too much.” Haz still attempted to lighten the mood, this conversation very unexpected and making him grow more and more concerned himself. “Haz quit it. I’m worried she’s been ill. I’ve come in and she’s asleep with a migraine but there’s no food in the fridge and she’s skinny as hell.” “Fuck er sorry I didn’t realise. But um no she’s been cancelling on us for the past like two weeks cos like…I don’t know said she was just snowed under at the firm so” “But before then?” “No yeh she was fine. Went to the pub a couple times and she always drove so didn’t drink but nothing weird - think she wanted to keep a clear head. What are you thinking?” “I don’t know to be honest mate. She seemed fine on the phone but I swear to god she looks half the size of what she was when I left.” “Just talk to her in the morning? She probably is just stressed if work has been mad busy.” Tom hummed in agreement, half trying to convince himself too. “Yeh yeh, sorry for bothering you.” “Oh shut up mate - I’ll see you both at your parents for the roast tomorrow? Sams got some new recipe I think, he’s been wittering on about it for days.” “Yeh we’ll be there, see you then mate.”

After signing off to Haz, Tom placed his phone on the little table on the upstairs hallway and sighed. He knew he was being over-protective but he couldn’t help it. Y/n was always the one to care for him, in fact to care for everybody int he room and then some.

He’d get to the bottom of whatever this was tomorrow, and so the rest of the evening Tom spent rather unhappily get ready before bed yet again before climbing back in next to you.

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Tom woke before you, a combination of jet lag and the worry in the pit of his stomach meaning he stirred awake first. Instinctively he pulled you closer and nuzzled his nose into the side of your neck as he slowly began to wake up properly - shrugging off the grogginess. Tom was still really excited for you to realise he was back, predicting you to excitedly hug him ever so tight and then spend the morning between the sheets. He knew you found the distance tough, especially when all your closest friends were coupled off, it meant you just didn’t have ‘your person’. It was almost as if you were single again and instead of pining over an ex, hopelessly and completely in love with someone across the globe. But that just made your time together even more invaluable and precious.

So even with his slight unease at your slimmer silhouette, Tom didn't have any control over the loopy grin that came to his face as you started to stir and mumble something incoherent, all the while (and subconsciously) inching closer towards him. By the slight fluttering under your eyelid, Tom knew you were waking up and so took the moment to tuck your frizzy bed hair behind your ear. Sighing contently Y/n’s eyes fluttered completely open and Tom met your gaze with the most gently of smiles.

However, he then watched moment by moment as your expression morphed for one of peacefulness and content, through confusion, and ending at pure terror. He had barely thought of asking you why, before you yelped, throwing yourself up into a sitting position and backing as far away on the bed as you could from Tom. “TOM... I-you can’t be here! YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!” “Y/n hey what’s wrong-“ “GET OUT! G-GET THE FUCK OUT! YOU CAN’T BE HERE” you yanked the bedsheets to completely cover your huddled up body, as if trying to protect yourself. At this point, tears were streaming down your face and what truly terrified Tom was the expression of horror in your eyes. He threw his hands in the air and unsteadily stumbled to his feet. “O-okay I’m-“ “GET OUT!!! YOU CAN'T SEE ME GET OUT!” Completely bemused and shocked, Tom just nodded jerkily -already halfway out the door and accidentally slamming it in haste.

He had absolutely zero clue what that was about. But what he knew for a fact? He’d never ever seen you like that… you looked so completely terrified… of him? Tom couldn’t for the life of him work out what the hell was going on, as he paced from the shut door to the hallway wall and back again, running his hand through his hair throughout. He could hear you sobbing and whisper yelling - presumably at yourself. It felt as though his heart was being torn out, seeing you that upset and it appearing as his fault? He was acting on pure instinct and adrenalin because your pain hurt him too. He had no control of the physiological response in his body, making his hands shake and breathing increase in speed as it inversely got shallower too.

And so he took a short inhalation, biting his bottom lip as he knocked on the door. “Y/n?….” He got no response after waiting a couple of seconds so tried again - because he could hear you trying to stifle your sobs. After another two failed attempts he opted for a different approach. “Y/n… I’m worried about you… look, I know your upset right now but I need you to let me know your okay… or I’ll have to come in and…and I don’t want to spook you” “Don’t come in.” It was a sharp reply, with a voice that was cracked and clearly trying to keep It together. “Okay… I-I’m sorry if my surprise of coming home was a dumb idea…I-I’ve missed you.” Tom tried speaking softly, as he knelt down and sat with this back against the wall while nervously fiddling with his watch strap that he’d forgot to take off last night. Again he waited for a response but got nothing, again having to warn you he needed to know you were okay. He heard movements from the other side of the door, making him turn his head to the left, pressing his ear on the cool gloss paint. “I-I’m sorry” You barely were whispering, but Tom could sense you were now sitting in a position mirroring his “You don’t meed to apologise love” Returning her tone, Tom sighed at the end - trying to get his brain to process what was going on.

Y/n wasn’t one to overreact and Tom could count on one hand the number of serious fights they’d had in the three year romance. And even then, he was the one to raise his voice - when she argued it was more reasoned, slow and controlled. Actually it was one of the things that in those moments infuriated him even more - you were just so level headed and sensible. Scratch that, sensible purely in this context - everywhere else you were just as loopy as him. So this situation felt so very alien. He didn’t know how to help you and he bloody hated feeling useless.

After a few moments, you replied to apologise once again, for shouting specifically, and Tom nodded - not that you could see. But that was one of the things Y/n had taught him, sometimes you just have accept things - no matter the context. Accept he wasn’t actually a superhero and couldn’t do everything, accept that sometimes he could be a dick and out of line or accept an apology.

“Can you.. can you try and tell me why your upset? I want to help.” He was trying to be gentle, non-confrontational. But he knew something was so wrong. He needed to know so he could try and help out. “I…”Y/n began, but quickly trailed off, as if trying to formulate the words properly. “I’ve just been ill and” again another pause “and I haven’t been looking after myself very well. I just planned to be umm- to be better when you got back.”

It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t really the truth either, at least not the whole truth. But it wasn’t a lie.

“I’m not sure I understand why your so worried about what I think though?” Tom inquired, as he started to fiddle with the door handle in his left hand - as if easing the idea of coming into his girlfriend without scaring you. In reply, you sighed again trying to put the words together without explicitly spelling it out to him. “I don’t- I thought you’d just be disappointed or-or think I’m reliant on you. I’m not and I can handle myself I just…. I don’t know.” “I love you, you idiot.”Tom chuckled at that, while standing up. “Can I come in now please? I promise I’m not disappointed just want to help you feel better.”

The door opened and no sooner could Tom take a step forward than Y/n ran into his chest, wrapping herself tightly around him in apology. He knew that he didn’t have the full story but really didn’t want to push her, more preferring to just love her. So that’s what they spent the rest of the morning doing, in their pyjamas and watching TV. Quite obviously, she wasn’t really making a lot of conversation, Tom filled some gaps with talking about filming - to which she’d hum in agreement or chuckle along. But for the most part Y/n was concentrating on something else.

The all-consuming guilt. That was what was eating away at her.

part 2?

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #Tom Holland angst

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samingtonwilson · 5 years ago

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Mac and Cheese

Summary: Bucky takes the last box of frozen mac and cheese, takes your phone, and makes you fall in love with him. The audacity of that man.

Prompt: “This has been a very bad week and you just grabbed the last box of my favorite comfort food at the supermarket”

Pairing: bucky x reader

a/n: i wrote this and was fully done formatting it and everything, like, 6 months ago. i didn’t post it because it’s approx. 82% nonsense but i figured why not post it now when it’s still 82% nonsense but im struggling to finish everything else. so taal, long time vegan, writes a story about mac and cheese and, listen, idk what this fic is either. can i write a fic without adding sam to it? no.

Mac and cheese. That’s all you want. Disgusting, frozen, usually-quite-mushy-if-not-microwaved-correctly mac and fucking cheese.

The kind with the layer of cheese on top. The kind with that real elbow pasta, not rotini or penne or seashell pasta— real macaroni. The kind you try to only eat one serving size of before you eat everything in the package. The kind you always gravitate to when your eyes are stained red, swollen, and too proud to be anything other than dry.

You take the subway. You switch lines. You endure the smell of the F train during rush hour when you aren’t sure where your thigh ends and the thigh of the woman sitting beside you begins. All for that one Trader Joe’s, out of many, in Brooklyn the hipsters abandon before six because the coffee shop next door closes at five.

Your feet ache in your boots and you’re pretty sure a rock has somehow lodged itself between your toes, it’s starting to rain and you have no umbrella, you don’t think your throat has ever felt so parched.

But you tuck your phone into your back pocket and march into that store with the hideous overhead lighting that makes your skin look like it hasn’t seen a bottle of toner in days like you’re Hades, the box of mac and cheese is Persephone, and Trader Joe’s is Mount Olympus.

You aren’t planning on smiling at anyone in greeting. You aren’t planning on making eye contact with anyone. You aren’t even planning on waiting politely behind whoever is inevitably idly standing in front of the pasta section of the frozen aisle— you’re going to say, “Excuse me.” Like the badass, New Yorker, on-the-verge-of-tears bitch you are and you’re going to toss that mac and cheese into your basket like you’re Steph Curry at the NBA Finals.

Lines are long when you walk in, cashiers bored-looking and tired. The produce section is a jungle of stay at home fathers and people who make their own pressed juice, the salad display a mess of college students trying to eat healthy.

Your eyes accidentally meet those of a toddler who is slyly plucking a grape from a bag he had no intention of spending his allowance on and you smile.

You hold your basket like a designer handbag and dilly-dally only for a moment to pick up some yogurt for breakfast tomorrow.

And some inauthentic babka because there’s no way in hell you’re going to endure Zabar’s after this.

And a package of olive oil popcorn, a bottle of three dollar chardonnay, and string cheese.

But that’s it. Self-control.

You feel the chill of the frozen aisle before you step into it. You feel the magnetic pull of that box with only one step in its direction. You stop for just a second to grab the mini mango and cream pops.

You almost roll your eyes to yourself when you see that someone is indeed standing right in front of the frozen selection of pasta. He’s staring at two boxes— a red one in his gloved left hand and the one in his right hand green.

As you grow closer you notice behind his curtain of dark hair that his eyebrows are knit together and he’s frowning at a decision he must be forcing himself to make.

Sophie’s Choice, but involving mediocre excuses for Italian food and no Nazis— hopefully. Because who really knows these days?

He wears a forest green hoodie under a black leather jacket, black jeans tight around thick thighs. Boots, too. You think you might swoon.

And you wait behind him. You tap your foot, shift your weight, and chew on your bottom lip. You don’t say anything.

He looks over his shoulder when you curse under your breath and set the heavy basket at your feet. He’s apologetic— and handsome— by the looks of it, blue eyes slightly widened and lips downturned. “Shit,” he says as he takes a few steps to the right. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug. You kick your basket with the toe of your boot until it lightly smacks against the bottom of the freezer. “No problem. It’s a big decision.”

His eyes lift from the boxes and he smiles. “Biggest one I’ve gotten to make in a while.”

Setting your hands atop the cold metal railing, you stare down into the freezer. You see farfalle with roasted tomatoes, rigatoni with pesto, ricotta and spinach ravioli, roasted vegetable lasagna, cauliflower gnocchi, chicken parm, and… an empty space.

You tilt your head.

You lean away and crouch to read the description cards, looking for the bubble letters to tell you where on Earth your saving grace is. When you spot the card, you stand again. The indicated space is empty, your heart is empty, your will to live is—

A box of organic pesto tortellini is tossed back into the freezer and you look up. Your eyes might lose their prideful dryness at any moment, even in public next to that handsome stranger with the nice jacket and,

the box of mac and cheese.

You gasp audibly and leap backwards. You point at the box in his left hand.

With an expression of panic, he holds his hands— and the box— up in innocence. “It’s okay. I’m not—”

“What the fuck is that?” you shout to gain the attention of customers you don’t even perceive, waggling your finger at the box. Your wide-eyed stare, and bared teeth, and messy hair must be terrifying. You hope they are.

He looks down at his hand. An eyebrow lifts. And, confusedly, he asks, “The box?”

“Yes, the fucking box!”

“It’s mac and—” he meets your gaze again. You’re wearing your anger like armor. But you aren’t scared. Bucky thinks he might never have felt such relief at a woman’s anger. “It’s mac and cheese.”

You shake your head. Wildly. Your neck hurts. “It’s the last box of mac and cheese!”

He glances at the box, then back at you. He jabs his thumb over his shoulder. “They might have some in the back—”

You shake your head again. A hint of devastation cracks your voice as you say, “It’s Monday night. Trader Joe’s restocks Tuesday night. This is usually all they have left.”

“I—” He pauses. “Is this shit really that good—”

“No, it’s not but that’s not the point!” you’re shouting again. And crying. Oh, God, you’re crying. In public. “The point is my building is going co-op!”

He tilts his head. “Your building is—”

“And I have to buy my apartment if I want to keep it! And they don’t give raises at my job to women unless they’re willing to suck something I won’t say in front of that kid right there,” you nod toward a little girl in a pink raincoat with her pin straight black hair in pigtails who stares at you in bewilderment. You sniffle. “So I quit. And I’m proud of myself for it. Because I have integrity, and I have self-respect, and I have no gag reflex, so the rejection should kill my boss dead.”

He cracks a small smile when you let out a short, watery, pathetic laugh. Easily, he holds the box out to you. “I hope your boss is dead, too.”

You laugh again and don’t hesitate before taking the box. You wipe your cheeks with your sleeve. “Thank you. You’re nice.”

“Not a popular opinion, but one I’ll certainly take.” He’s smiling and it’s warm. “Sorry— about all that.”

“You’re apologizing to me? I just screamed at you in the Trader Joe’s freezer aisle over mac and cheese.”

He shakes his head and picks up his own basket when you grab yours. “Your building’s going co-op and your boss deserves to burn in hell. You should get all the mac and cheese you want.”

You reach into the freezer for that green box of tortellini he’d thrown in, tossing it into his basket with a smile. Steph Curry at the NBA Finals. “Still. I’m sorry for yelling and I hope the tortellini doesn’t suck too bad.”

“It’s frozen pasta. My expectations are low.”

You hum a laugh and walk past him to the crowded lines at the registers. “As they should be.”

It’s when you’re lost in the sea of customers and Bucky is deciding between frozen palak paneer and frozen lamb vindaloo with basmati rice that he feels a tug at the hem of his jacket.

He looks away from the green and orange boxes, lowering his gaze to meet curious almond-shaped eyes beneath blunt black bangs. He smiles and she returns it. “Yes?”

She reveals her right hand, which she had hidden behind her pink raincoat, and holds a phone up to Bucky as far as her arm will let her.

“Is that your phone?”

She shakes her head and giggles. Loud, happy, and squeaky. “Yelling lady dropped her phone.”

Bucky’s eyebrows knit together until a woman, much closer to his height, steps behind the little girl. She takes the phone the girl holds out and offers it to Bucky when he straightens his posture. Her smile looks like the little girl’s. “We figured you would have a good chance at getting it back to her.”

He takes the phone and nods his thanks. Pressing the power button reveals a picture of you and a dog, a large, fluffy dog with its pink tongue hanging low. You’re smiling brightly and, oddly, it seems like the dog is, too.

—

“So you just took her phone? Didn’t even ask an employee to keep it there in case she came back for it?”

Bucky, watching the tray of pasta rotate in the microwave, scowls. “I would’ve if I’d known that was an option. And stop eating my fuckin’ chips.”

Sam tosses back another handful of kettle-cooked barbecue potato chips in defiance so the obnoxious crunching echoes through the kitchen. He smiles sarcastically when Bucky snatches the bag and rolls it up. Half is already gone. “You come up with how you’re gonna get it back to her?”

“Thinkin’ about asking Pepper to post a picture of it like it’s a missing child to that ‘Tweeter’ nonsense,” Bucky replies dryly. He’s glaring at Sam as he leans his hip against the counter. “You and I both know I haven’t come up with shit.”

Sam snorts and is smiling in amusement, deep brown eyes alight. Bucky hates the sight. “Tweeter. You’re so fuckin’ old.”

It’s been hours since Bucky took the phone from who he learned is little Vivienne and her mother, and he is no closer to getting it back to you.

He’d tried looking for you at the store but there were too many people for a Trader Joe’s that Yelp claimed was the least busy in New York for that to yield results. So he returned to the Tower. He thought about asking Tony to look into the doohickey but figured an invasion of privacy should be the last resort.

He pulls the tray from the microwave with nimble vibranium fingers and sniffs the pasta before setting it down on the counter. He removes a bowl from one of the cabinets and dumps the steaming pasta in it, a sprinkle of freshly grated parmesan from a tub he’d bought— also at Trader Joe’s— a finishing touch.

“She’s cute,” Sam says when the screen lights up with an incoming text notification.

Bucky spins his fork between his fingers as he walks around the counter to sit on the barstool beside Sam’s. He glances at the phone as well. “Very cute,” he agrees. “She had a shitty day. Something about her apartment goin’ co-op. Whatever the hell that means.”

Sam frowns. “Means she’s gotta buy the place. And with New York real estate prices right now,” he shakes his head with a sigh. “She better have a well-paying job.”

“Quit that today, too.” Bucky takes a bite of the pasta and hisses as it burns his tongue. “Boss is a creep that asked for some action in exchange for a raise.”

“Jesus. Poor girl.”

The tortellini isn’t great. It’s a little bland, a bit too dry, and there isn’t enough filling— but it’s better than Bucky had expected. He takes another bite. “Yeah. And I took the last box of mac and cheese. Which is what she went to the store for.”

“I’m surprised your head wasn’t chopped off.”

Bucky smiles. “She yelled— a lot. Was crying, too, ‘til she said something and made herself laugh.”

Sam then begins teasing Bucky juvenilely for having a crush until both men are laughing and shoving one another to see who falls off their stool first, Sam only relenting when Bucky hands the potato chips to him again as a peace offering.

The bowl is in the sink and the chips are down to just crumbs when a loud ringtone— an instrumental version of an R&B song Bucky recognizes from Sam’s many plays of the original— shocks the two of them.

It’s from an unknown number and Bucky is unsure if he should pick up until Sam swipes answer and puts the call on speakerphone. “Hello?”

A sigh. Bucky doesn’t know if it’s one of relief or frustration. “I’m hoping whoever this is found my phone and didn’t steal it.”

Sam shoves Bucky’s shoulder with a toothy grin and Bucky rolls his eyes. “The little girl you almost traumatized in the freezer aisle found it and gave it to me.”

Another sigh— the relief in this one is obvious— and you’re laughing. “It’s you— tortellini dude. Must’ve fallen when I crouched down.”

“Seems like it, yeah.”

“So are you gonna ask for my address or do I have to schlep over to Avengers Tower?”

Bucky and Sam exchange a look. “Avengers Tower?”

“You weren’t exactly in disguise— I realized who you are the minute I left the store. Would’ve recognized you right away but I was in my own head and you aren’t my favorite Avenger.”

Bucky smiles. “Yeah? And who is?”

“Falcon.”

Immediately, the phone is taken from Bucky’s hand. “Hi, baby, you’ve got Falcon.”

A gasp, a pause, then you laugh. Audibly stunned laughter. “You guys actually hang out with each other? That’s cute.”

Before Sam can reply, Bucky flicks his forehead— in reply to which Sam elbows Bucky’s ribs— and takes the phone back. “I can bring your phone to you whenever you’re free.”

“Awesome. I’m unemployed now so any time tomorrow is fine.”

You tell him your address before hanging up and he wishes you a good night. Your laughter is the last thing he hears before three beeps signify the end of the call.

—

Bucky takes the subway. He switches lines to the F train. He tries not to mind the overpowering smell of stale B.O. and deli meat leftover from rush hour, the skittering steps of a rat across the floor in the adjacent empty car. He ignores those who stare at him intensely enough to burn the fabric right off his skin. All for that one apartment in SoHo.

He thinks the gash below his ribs might still be leaking as the warm, moist subway station air blows past him. He can feel that cluster of bruises above his knee— the one from the pipe the hostile operative had ripped off the rickety walls of a nearly destroyed Hydra base— every time he takes a step, more so as he climbs the stairs.

He knows he must be quite a sight with combat boots and tac pants worn and dusty, a simple bomber jacket thrown over a ripped, sliced, stained compression tank. His mind is blank, his eyes shadowy, the ghost of something terrible lurking behind blue and grey.

Posture stiff and muscles cold, steps crisp despite the ache, he follows the familiar path and manages to form the thought of turning around. Not bringing this all to a threshold— or, more accurately, a windowsill— he’s only crossed three or four times. He’s too weak, though.

It takes one rap of his knuckles against the third-story window for a lamp to flicker on, gauzy drapes pushed aside. You smile as he lifts the window open, stepping aside as he enters the apartment with careful grace. He feels less guilty when he sees that your bed is still made and your hair isn’t the tangled mess it usually is when he bursts in at a late hour.

“I have a door.”

“Okay, show-off.”

It’s when he steps into the light of the standing lamp in the room’s corner that your quiet laughter gives way to a soft gasp.

He doesn’t like the widening of your eyes or the way you gently lift the right side of his jacket, fingers light against the torn fabric. But you laugh again, and it shakes in nervousness. “You know I’m not a doctor, right? Or a nurse? Or even a pharmacist with high self-efficacy?”

He nods and, despite himself, there’s a smile pulling at a corner of his lips. His eyes brighten a little. “It’ll heal itself.”

“Confidence. I like that in a burglar.”

Before he can take a step further into your bedroom, you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth and point at his feet. “Boots.”

He kicks them off with a sigh and a groan when the shifting of his knee sends a tremor up his leg. His jacket is tossed aside as well, and he catches the black t-shirt you throw to him. You’d washed it, folded it, and put it in your closet.

Just a little more brightness. “You owe me mac and cheese.”

“Oh, I owe you mac and cheese? We’re really holding onto shit from four months ago?”

He nods again and pulls his tank off, withholding a wince.

Eyebrow raised, you cross your arms over your chest. You’re giving him a narrow look but, because you’re clearly struggling against a smile, it’s one of his favorites of the expressions you’ve ever offered him.

You give him a towel next— pastel blue. “Shower and then we’ll see about me owing you something.”

He wants to say thank you, do more than smile.

But he knows if he so much as opens his mouth while you’re looking at him the way you are, he’ll tell you he’s fallen in love with you over the last four months, that maybe he’s been in love since you screamed at him in the freezer section of Trade Joe’s.

He’ll go to say thank you, but the words of a Byron poem he’d learned to impress a girl in his English class more than eighty years ago will come pouring out or he’ll simply kiss you like he wishes he could on the nights he can’t sleep or during the missions he can just barely endure.

He’ll go to say thank you, and then tell you with no clarity whatsoever that you’re what he finds comfort in when he’s had a hard day. That the disgusting, mushy, nothing-compared-to-fresh mac and cheese is just an excuse.

But he just smiles. And nods. And takes a shower.

His hair is still wet as he stands across from you at the kitchen counter. There’s a bowl of steaming pasta between you, a spoon in his hand and a fork in yours. “You’re dripping onto the counter.”

With a cocking of his eyebrow, he shakes his head and you sputter a laugh, shoving his shoulder. “Bucky!”

He laughs then, fully and happily, as he reaches over to wipe the drops from your cheeks and forehead. You only smile back, the gleaming of your eyes making him feel warm all over.

“This shit’s terrible, by the way,” he says after a minute of staring.

You shrug a shoulder. “Told you.”

“And you fought me for it. Publicly.”

You shrug again and laugh. You lean your elbows atop the counter to match his relaxed posture, dragging a noodle through a particularly large puddle of melted cheese.

Looking up, your nose nearly bumps Bucky’s and you hope he doesn’t hear your breath stall. You try to smile. “Makes me feel better when I need to fill that hole in my heart.”

“With cholesterol?” he jokes.

“Yes. It’s excellent. It’s like spackle.” As he laughs and you roll your eyes, you push off the counter to stand straight. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Yeah?”

You hum. “I’m seeing an apartment I want tomorrow and need the rent lowered. And you’re the Winter Soldier.”

He considers that for a moment and you burst into laughter just as his eyes narrow into a fond glare. “You want me to scare them into lowering the rent?”

“Don’t think of it as you scaring them,” you begin, rounding the counter to stand next to him, hip leant against the marble, “think of it as you being an amazing friend and helping me.” A moment later you add, “By scaring them.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. He glances at the bowl to avoid the risk of staring at you for too long. “Fine.”

You grin. “You really take no convincing.”

A snort and he meets your gaze. “Only when it comes to you. I’m afraid you’ll start crying again.”

“So I could ask you for anything and you’d probably say yes?”

He shrugs a bit, then nods. Who is he kidding? You could ask for his right arm and he’d give it to you.

“Okay. Go on a date with me then.”

There’s a pause— in the conversation, in his chest. “A what?”

“A date. It’s like dinner, or coffee, or a movie, or something.” You grin when he takes half a step in your direction and his hands grip onto the counter at either side of you. “It’s this thing people do when they like each other.”

Something much more than like is in the sparkling of your eyes and the tilt of your head. Something that might match exactly what’s in his eyes whenever he’s around you. His insides burn at the thought.

“I know what a date is.”

“They had those back in your day?”

He nods and leans forward. “Not from the Stone Ages.”

Your lips brush lightly against his, hand set on his chest to feel the rapid beating beneath. You smile and he thinks he might melt. “Could’ve fooled me with that hair.”

Laughing, he presses his lips to yours a little harder.

—

Apartment littered with unpacked boxes, misplaced books, and askew furniture, you sit on top of the counter where Bucky works. He’s twirling a knife through his metal fingers, arranging sprigs of chives on the cutting board with the flesh ones.

He smiles when he catches you staring at the pan cooling on the stove. “S’not done yet.”

You sigh. Loudly, heavily. “You took it out of the oven. That means it’s done.”

“It needs to cool for a few minutes or you’ll burn off your taste buds. You want to burn off your taste buds?”

“You want to burn off your taste buds?” you repeat in a high-pitched, taunting voice. You’re scowling and, somehow, look to be on the verge of snatching the knife from him to stab it through his chest. “Maybe I do.”

Less than a minute later, you groan and add, “I don’t care how good you are in bed. I’m about ten seconds from dumping you.”

Swiftly, he chops the chives and turns around to sprinkle a bit into the baking dish. “You know, most people would say thank you.”

“Most people don’t have to wait an hour while their boyfriend attempts to make mac and cheese when there’s a perfectly good box in the freezer that would take four minutes.”

“It’s worth it.”

In all honesty, he doesn’t know if it’s worth it.

He’d asked Sam for a recipe and did his best to follow it despite the autocorrect which had changed “gruyere” to “grape year.” But he trusts it since Sam generally knows what he’s doing in the kitchen. Unlike Steve who had continuously attempted to chime in with useless suggestions such as, “Maybe don’t add the paprika.”

“Just trust me,” he urges as if replying to the growling of your stomach which has interrupted his search for the plates he could’ve sworn he’d unpacked. He’s crouched and searching the lower cabinets as he adds, “You’ll fall in love with me after you try it.”

“Who says I haven’t already?”

He stops searching.

He peeks his head above the edge of the counter and, his eyes wide, he sees you pulling two plates from a box placed on the small nook table. Your smile is small and a bit sheepish— the latter something he’d never seen from you.

“You never took them out,” you tell him, the clatter of ceramic on the wooden surface loud when you set the plates down. As you approach and he stands to his full height, you sigh and roll your eyes at the look he gives you. “Yes, I love you. It can’t be that shocking.”

“It isn’t.”

“Someone should tell your face that.”

Chuckling over the heavy thumps in his chest, he leans forward to kiss you but pauses just to say, “I love you, too, by the way.”

When an empty dish sits between the two of you, Bucky’s stomach warm and full of over three-quarters of it, you stand from the table and walk to the freezer.

Shooting a smile over your shoulder, you grab the familiar red box and toss it into the stainless steel trash can. Steph Curry at the NBA Finals. “I’m never eating that shit again.”

#this reader is a human disaster #dkjfgdkjgj #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff

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renidrag · 3 years ago

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you're so right, the one thing everyone in generation needs to do is communicate with each other 😭 but what has me on edge is what's going to happen with luz now she's, like, mad with greta bc she doesn't like her. she has the "not yet" that can potentially hurt greta and im actually wondering if she's gonna tell her or if riley will first (which i kind of doubt? since riley seems to be pushing her away from the looks of it in the sneak peek?). Idk!! what are your opinions? i like reading your posts. Thank you alsjhs

thank you for reading! I just think the character dynamics and the acting and the writing are so so good and something I've never really seen done before (also I'm so sorry this got a little bit off track by the time I'd finished writing lmaoooo)

oh I absolutely believe luz is gonna weaponise that info like there is no way they specifically wrote that asshole mini-monologue for her and had her tell riley 'not yet' to not use it when they want to cause even more problems. I think riley's gonna self destruct next episode (callback to Sam in ep 9 'you don't wanna blow yourself up in the process') out of some sort of misguided sense of self loathing - you can see in ep 13 when aquarium pablo turns up she looks so guilty and upset with herself more than anything

when stuff goes wrong for riley she always makes a joke out of it but then turns the rage inward to hurt herself - all the shit with her parents has obviously just taught her that she's the root of everyone's problems. she's so self sacrificing (when she says she's happy for greta and luz and has a photo that she LITERALLY CRIED OVER for their couple photo album??? riley pls be nice to yourself) and finds it so hard to ask for what she needs (she has to force out that she's having a shit time with her parents and needs chester to come inside with her and then we find out that her mum has totally invaded her space and done god knows what with all her belongings to have her weird play room which is funny yes but also like so deeply distressing to me)

god my heart aches for her like up until recently with the GSA kids probably no one has ever really told her that she's worthy of time and love, I don't even know how she's as functional as she is but I guess kids are resilient. I could argue that sometimes riley uses sex as a form of self harm or like a tranquilliser for all her feelings because at least when people are having sex with her she knows they actually want and desire her in some imitation of honesty. but I digress and also it's a show about teenagers so maybe it's not that serious and dark.......idk

I'm not really sure where the end of that episode is going to leave us but then episode 15 according to the plot synopsis is where greta and riley finally have their cards on the table convo about where they stand with each other. I would love the luz thing to come up so it doesn't blow up everything later, but if greta is asexual and says that to riley as one of the reasons she was/is confused about them then I think there's no way riley's going to say 'hey sorry but when you rejected me and accidentally called me a slut I went and found someone who would actually fuck me to make myself feel better and that happens to be luz lol'. it's going to be so much worse that she didn't just go off and have sex with some random guy but she had her first sexual experience with a girl that wasn't greta like they're somehow interchangeable (obviously not but that's how it would feel I think)

the last episode I'm thinking riley and greta will be maybe like circling each other with ~meaningful~ eye contact and stuff like they always do which would hopefully finally culminate in one good honest mitski kiss where they actually know how intensely they feel about each other. there's footage of marisela and chase rehearsing a scene for the finale that definitely looks confrontational and given that I'm like 75% sure that luz will either tell greta or threaten to tell greta just to be the asshole she's promised to be. I hope greta understands riley enough at that point to know it wasn't personal but it's gonna be bad and painful whenever it happens

tl;dr for this unhinged essay: I agree with you that I think riley won't do it herself, luz will either have to do it or coerce riley into doing it which will make everything a disaster and I hope that it won't ruin it forever but I am SCARED

#self harm tw #answered #tiny-purplepenguin #genera+ion #generation hbo

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eyessharpweaponshot · 4 years ago

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hi there!! are there any fics you’re reading right now that you would recommend? i need something good after the season we’ve been given so far 😣

hello there!

I agree, this season has been disappointing - especially considering it’s the last one. but thankfully, our fandom is full of amazing writers that serve us goods regularly. I have so much to recommend, it’s a joke. so prepare for a long fic rec. In no particular order, let’s begin:

1. Chasin’ You - @burninghoneyatdusk

okay. you’re gonna see a bit of a theme with me in these fic recs because the authors I mention are some of my favourites in the world - sam being one of the TOP TIER ones. this fic is a modern au, written about clarke and bellamy as exes (a favourite trope of mine) that have went their separate ways. clarke has moved away and hasn’t kept tabs on bellamy but he's soared to the top as a country star, his hit single being about her and what they had. if there’s any fic from this list you need to start reading, it’s this one.

2. Voices in the Water - @burninghoneyatdusk

It’s the canon version we all wanted. set on earth, clarke’s aunt (nia) forces her into an arranged marriage with king bellamy to unite the clans. but under it all, nia has tasked her to kill him. obviously, as clarke falls in love with bellamy, it’s the one task wanheda probably can’t complete. I'm in love with the imagery and descriptions in this fic. there are honestly some lines that sam writes that I want to frame and put up in my house. absolute brilliance.

3. All Because of You - @burninghoneyatdusk

*sheepishly raises hand* - hi, it’s me again, fangirling over another one of sam’s fics. if you have followed me for a while, either here or on twitter, you’ll have seen me screaming about this fic. I've pulled over while driving to read an update that came through to my email. no lie. I don’t say this lightly but it is definitely in my top 3 favourite bellarke fics of all time. sam DELIVERS with this one. bellamy knocks up his sister’s best friend when they’re both young and they grow together in raising their daughter. this fic flashes between present and future in the most seamless way and we see how in love they were back then but too scared to admit it, combined with how in love they are now that they are mature and older - but yet can’t seem to take the leap. I can’t tell you enough how good this fic is. I'm in love and it’s one of those fics that I would happily have as a book on my bookshelf, the pages worn and falling out from the amount of times that I re-read it.

*I just want to note that sam is doing a fantastic job at running @bellarkefic-for-blm. This is an opportunity for the bellarke community to directly support the Black Lives Matter cause through reading and writing fanfiction. For every fanfiction prompt a participating writer receives, they ask that you donate to an organization that supports the BLM cause. This initiative includes non-bellarke the 100 ships and requests for other content (e.g. gif sets, icons, moodboards, fanart). please check them out and request a prompt (this also includes updates for the above mentioned fics)*

4. Count Your Teeth - @icantloseyou-too

let me tell you, you guys will be well fed after reading this fic. It’s one of the most original idea’s and we get so much bellarke and the blake siblings in this one. bellamy is a treasure hunter and married to clarke, after leaving his thieving days behind him. that is until his past comes knocking and drags him back into that world again - and clarke along with him. absolute chefs kiss!

5. Cups and Sorcerers - @icantloseyou-too

again, such a unique plot with just the right amount of fluff. clarke is a witch who owns a coffee shop and she ends up meeting someone just as unique as her. I’m invested in this to an embarrassing degree and it always puts me in a good mood when this fic is updated. such a light and heart filling read and ciara does a fantastic job of world building in this fic.

6. Paint me in Trust - @pawprinterfanfic

I'm sure this fic needs no introduction. everyone and their mother has heard of it and if you haven’t read it yet, believe me, you’re missing out. a harry potter au that runs alongside the last few movies without being involved with the main characters. essie manages to make an already existing world so different, thrilling and gripping. it emotionally upends you and takes you along for the ride without any intention of letting you off. I'm just in love with it and rightly so!

7. When the Wolves Come Home - @pawprinterfanfic

I don’t know how people aren’t RAVING about this fic more because I certainly am. it’s massive for me to even say this because I love all of essie’s work but it’s my favourite fic that she’s written. I can’t describe the feeling I get when I read how she’s written bellarke in this. it’s a percy jackson au but you don’t need to have knowledge of that world to enjoy this. I actually started reading the books because of this fic. essie writes it so well and incorporates a lot of fantastic elements from greek mythology while also keeping me on the edge of my seat with bellarke’s journey. HERE FOR IT ALL THE WAY.

8. I’ll Find You in the Morning Sun - @cominguproses13x

I’ve never seen a fic talked about as much as this one. with 60 chapters, it’s bound to satisfy any hunger you have for bellarke. it’s set in a post apocalyptic world and it is beyond a shadow of a doubt, my favourite setting to read bellarke in. I've actually stopped reading this fic on chapter 5 because im currently writing my own post apocalyptic au as it was a trope on my bingo card and I don’t want any subconscious spill over, but I fully intend on reading the rest of the fic in one go once my fic is published and done. it deserves all the praise and hype.

9. For Blue Skies - @kombellarke

kayla’s fics make me actually weep. her writing style is just unbelievable and she sucks me into stories so fast. this one is no different. I live and breathe for bellarke as exes and this fic is one of my favourites. it’s a modern au with clarke as a mother and she cascades back into bellamy’s life without warning. perfect angst and anticipation. in love.

10. Love Like Fools - @talistheintrovert

the way I love talis with my whole heart. I'm always obsessed with her fics and the way this one was written was just magnificent. enemies to friends to lovers, roommates, angst, emotional comforting? SIGN ME UP. the perfect mix of all of those and I felt so good after reading this. always a fan.

11. It Had To Be You - @useyourtelescope

I had the honour of pre-reading some of this fic before it was published and I felt so privileged. a regency au with a prank war sprinkled in? perfection. hana honestly writes this so beautifully and I can’t recommend this enough. it’s so unique and we are all so incredibly lucky that there’s something in the bellarke fic world for everyone.

12. Veni, Vidi, Vinci - @carrieeve

Again, proof of the pudding that there’s something in fic for everyone. I’ve never read one like this before and it THRILLED me. murphy and bellamy working together to steal a Vinci? it was the fic I never knew I needed. the bellarke interaction in this was beautifully written and I am just completely obsessed. we really struck gold with the bellarke big bang works this year.

13. A Twist of Fate - @queenemori

let’s be honest, soulmate au’s are always wanted and needed in this fandom and kara does an excellent job of serving us this one. we got some team cockroach in here along with some top tier quality bellarke. what more could you ask for? if you haven’t read this fic yet, you need to. so thankful for kara being the absolute gifted babe that she is.

14. Power Over Me - @sparklyfairymira

okay, if you recently watched the witcher on netflix like I did, believe me, you NEED to read this fic. if you haven’t watched the witcher, this fic will make you want to watch it. the smut in this, the plot, the WRITING. absolutely phenomenal. have I mentioned how lucky we are to have such fantastic writers in this fandom?

15. There’s a Serpent Lying Deep Down in These Still Waters - @shaeheda

post apocalyptic au? SIGN ME UP. bellarke thrown together in unkind circumstances? SIGN ME UP. this magnificent human writing a fic? SIGN ME THE FUCK UP. I'm so in love with this fic already and I haven’t even finished it yet. as I've said, I've stopped reading fics in this genre until my own is completed but I’ve read enough to tell you that this needs to be on your next to read list. forever in awe of the talent here and this fic makes me feel so lucky to be part of something so great.

I hope this satisfies you for a while and that you enjoy all the bellarkey goodness that comes from these fics. I'm gonna drop some of mine below because why not? just in case you’re in need of something more.

1. I Found Peace in Your Violence

clarke griffin has it all. she’s popular, an artistic prodigy and has a wealthy family to boot. so when her perfect world comes crashing down around her, it’s time to sink or swim. she tests positive for the Homicidal Tendency Syndrome gene, also known as the kill gene. clarke is plucked from her comfortable life and placed into a school with people just like her - carriers, delinquents. when she meets bellamy blake there, he looks like everything they say HTS carriers are. a monster, a criminal. yet, he’s the one who protects her.

2. I Am Lost This Time

a void!bellamy fic that we all deserved to have happen in canon. an au where bellamy hears clarke’s radio calls from earth, sees her memories in m-cap and where she really is the key: the one that unlocks his memories and brings him back to her.

3. Purple, Blue, Orange, Red

bellarke are childhood friends and teenage lovers, reuniting in the midst of the same grief that tore them apart.

4. Devil Side

post apocalyptic setting and my favourite fic to have ever written. both of them coming together to survive and protect those in their family, including two small children. bellarke started out as strangers, who would have thought that they’d end up co-parenting in the middle of a world that is too dangerous to survive out in the open?

5. Waste It on Me

a soulmate/reincarnation au that I wrote based off my own breakup and feelings. probably my most popular fic and should keep you going in terms of bellarke feels.

#bellarke #the 100 #bellarke fanfiction #bellarke fic rec #fic recommendations #jensfic #eyessharpweaponshot #wonderful writers #wonderful fics

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possum-rat · 3 years ago

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King ophelia

is this nearly 2 months late? yes yes it is.

@king-ophelia

“If i die im totally haunting your ass”

(Y/n) x C!Sam Platonic

______________

Mentions of: death, blood,tommy’s prison arc

There had always been a close Mentor and Student type of bond Between a certain droopy elf-eared green-tinted skinned man and a young kid around the age of 15-16? Some might even say that it was closer, more Father and child-like. So naturally when Awesamdude began distancing himself from everyone while making the prison (Y/n) felt a mixture of anger and slightly guilt. Guilt because it wasn't Sam’s duty to take care of them. Sam had simply shown them Human kindness, and (Y/n) not having many good encounters with people had clutched to the praise that Sam had given on the regular. (Y/n) had only felt angrier and angrier as time passed. Especially when Ponk had stumbled into their small dark oak cottage on the outskirts of what was Pogtopia. His red yellow and black mask burned beyond repair and holding what was left of his arm. Leaping up from the small couch situated in the middle of the small one-floor house (Y/n) turns their attention to Ponk. As they work feverishly whispering that it’ll be okay more to themselves than anything else. That day they realize that the Man that they had admired so much and had tried to please didn't care. ------ “Sam? I made something look!” (Y/n) says happily as they pull the prosthetic arm they had been working on for Ponk. “I'm busy (Y/n), Tommy needs help with something,” Sam states as he brushes past (Y/n) without a thought. “Of course. It’s always Tommy and tubbo this. Why don't you have a second of time for me?” (Y/n) mumbles dejectedly. Shoving the arm back into their bag they grumble annoyed. Eventually, they bump into Foolish. “(Y/n)! Didn't see you there! How are you?” he asks cheerfully crouching into a squat. “I made something for Ponk. I tried showing Sam but he was busy. As always.” They say quietly while fiddling with the hem of the bag. Foolish’s emerald eyes widen in interest. “You did? Can I see?” Nervously they pull a wooden base of an arm armor of the bag before turning their attention to Foolish, (Y/n) smiles shyly up at the man before gently placing the arm in his huge calloused hands. Foolish sits on the ground in front of (Y/n) and turns the arm silently, his jade eyes staring intently at the arm that’s a quarter -if that -the size of his hand. Growing more nervous and agitated at the lack of response (Y/n) a close mentor-student type of bond between Sam and (Y/n). If you were to look closer it might be called a Father/child type of bond. Maybe even Found Family. Always ever since (Y/n) had been younger. (Y/n) had always looked up to him, always trying to be just like him. Horror was the least they felt when Ponk- stumbled into (Y/n’s) small cottage. His arm was bloody in his other arm. His mask torn in places, his hood pulled up pasted his face. To cover the deep cuts. Dropping the book they had been reading: The Book thief, on the couch they spring up and run toward Ponk one line still ringing in their head. “I guess humans like to watch a little destruction. Sand castles, houses of cards, that's where they begin. Their great skill is their capacity to escalate.” The meaning of those words smacks (Y/n) like a truck. Just like how Sam had destroyed (Y/n’s) view on the world, Ruining the one last thing that kept (Y/n’s) view of the parental figure like a parent. It didn't help that (Y/n) was the youngest in the vast land of DreamSmp. Being 12 when they lost their first life jumping in front of Technoblade's fireworks that Schlatt had ordered him to fire at Tubbo. And 13 when they had lost their second life to a forest fire that Niki had started. Niki had apologized of course, but techno. You know how he is. ---- It had been a few weeks after Ponk’s visit, and (Y/n) had been wandering around looking for Sam for some input. Eventually finding him they tap his shoulder and present the Wood and golden ornate hand they had been making during the past 2 weeks. “Sam! Look!” They state excitedly. As they hold out the arm. “That's nice (Y/n). But I'm busy. I need to help Tommy with his hotel.” Sam says as he shrugs (Y/n) off brushing past them. Nodding slowly (Y/n) stands on the prime path before turning and shoving the arm into their bag before walking down the prime path with no particular idea. “Oh- sorry I didn't see you there-” A tall man with bright observant jade green eyes and golden shining olive skin gazes down wearing Egyptian royalty wear with gold, and emerald stitching along the hems of the shendyt. Shifting down he smiles down at (Y/n) his gold ornately patterned Wesekh with lapis emerald and Netherite hangs off his chest while he grins happily. Sharp shark-like teeth gleaming. “(Y/n) right?” he asks as he offers out a huge hand. “Y-Yeah. You're Foolish right?” the man nods causing (Y/n) to breath in deeply the scent of pine filling their nose. (Y/n) gazes at the ground while Foolish asks “May I see the arm you tried showing Sam?” nervously (Y/n) obliges. As Foolish sits on the ground examining the minuscule arm (Y/n) grows agitated at the lack of negative response- well any response. “Sorry- I know. It's stupid and it won't work-” they mutter quietly. “No, no-no. that’s not it at all. Im amazed at the level of detail on the fingers and the knuckles (Y/n).” --------- “Tommy? I can give a note to Dream so you don't have to see him.” (Y/n) states with an undertone of wanting to prove themselves. “No- You're too young-” he begins. “No.” They interrupt loudly. Tommy raises an eyebrow. (Y/n) never really questioned anybody's judgment, they merely followed without question. “I- uh. I want to help. Please.” they continue their voice growing quieter as the sudden jolt of courage dissolves into fear of rejection. Tommy nods a small smile on his face. “Sure. Only if you pinky promise you’ll be safe okay?” ------ As they reach the prison, the anger they had repressed for months begins bubbling up. In addition to anxiety. (Y/n) hadn't really interacted with Dream much. Only briefly when he needed somewhere to hide. And foolishly (Y/n) had let him. As they reach the other end of the portal Sam doesn't look up from the desk he’s sitting at. “Tommy. Kid. I have something for you to sign.” he says tiredly. As he places a book in front of (Y/n). “Read that out loud.” (Y/n) feels a twinge of anger at the nickname Sam had given Tommy. Sam had never taken the time to do that for (Y/n). Taking a deep breath they begin. “Page 1 I HEREBY ASSUME ALL OF THE RISKS OF VISITING THE HOLDING CELL, including by way of example and not limitation, any risks that may arise from negligence or carelessness on the part of the Prison guards, prisoners misbehaving, from dangerous or defective equipment” (Y/n) read haltingly and slowly sounding out negligence. Sam suddenly glances up and sighs “(Y/n) why are you here. Tommy said he’d be here.” ignoring what sam had asked they continue rambling

“Page 2 or property owned, maintained, or controlled by the Prison Guards. I certify that I waive, release, and discharge the Prison from any and all liability, including but not limited to, death, disability, personal injury, property damage,” they glare at Sam and murmur “you did that to ponk. You hurt him.” they take another breath before continuing:

Page 3 property theft, or actions of any kind which may hereafter occur to me, including my traveling to and from visiting the Prisoner. Written name, then sign: (Y/n)” They sign it and slide the book toward Sam. “(Y/n). Why are you here.” they scoff annoyed and reply “Why else? I'm visiting Dream. I'm telling him something Tommy wanted me to say.” ------------- As (Y/n) reaches the platform they turn toward Sam and state. “Sam. If I die. Then I’m totally haunting your ass.” Sam sighs and retorts “You're not going to die. And stop talking. Face forward.” Nodding (Y/n) turns forward tears forming in their eyes. Gazing up at the ceiling (Y/n) lifts a hand pressing it against their eyes while mentally shouting at themself to not cry. Being in prison wasn't as bad as they thought. Dream seemed nice enough, so he made conversation. “So (Y/n) have you made anything new? I’ve heard that you like making things.” Dream says as he leans against the wall his tone curious. (Y/n) jumps at the opportunity of having someone showing genuine interest in what they enjoy. “Well- I’ve started reading Norse Myths. Those are cool- I also really like- I like uh building things. Like a few weeks ago I made a fake arm for ponk cuz Sam ripped him off.” They state excitedly. Dream nods his mask contorting into a small smile. “Wait-” Dream pauses his mask’s eyebrows contorting into a frown “Did you say Sam ripped off Ponks arm?” (Y/n) freezes the hairs on the back of their neck suddenly standing on end. They laugh awkwardly, alarms blaring internally “What- nooo that's preposterous. Why would Sam do that? I mean Sam loves Ponk.” they blabber nervously as they fiddle with their hands nervously. Suddenly there’s an ear-splitting boom. Causing (Y/n) to freeze in place. ------ About a week has passed since (Y/n) got trapped in the prison. (Y/n) eventually grew more nervous and twitchy whenever Dream so much as looked at them. On the 4th day, they had gotten a cat. (Y/n) had named the calico “Fat Ass” as he was one of the Fattest cats (Y/n) had seen. On the 8th day or so (Y/n) had been trapped Fat Ass had seemed to have enough with everything and committed unalive by walking into the lava. (Y/n) would never forget his pitiful yowls as he burned alive. The ninth day (Y/n) began growing desperate Screaming at the lava for hours on end until their throat grew dry or Dream had yanked them up and tossed them across the small room. As he yelled “(Y/N) SAM DOESN'T CARE. HE’S GOING TO LEAVE YOU HERE TO FUCKING ROT. WHY WON'T THAT GET THROUGH YOUR FUCKING HEAD.” (Y/n) grew silent at that. Playing with the orangy drawstrings of their hoodie. “Okay.” (Y/n) whispers in defeat. “You win. Just stop yelling at me please.” Dream scoffs bending closer to (Y/n) grabbing the collar of their Hoodie. “(Y/n). You're pathetic. I could kill you right now and revive you because I'm bored. I could do that for hours and Sam wouldn't move a damned muscle.” (Y/n’s) (e/c) eyes widen in fear as they whisper “Your lying.” gulping they rasp “You wouldn't. You don't have it in you-” Dream grins. “(Y/n), I’m a GOD.” He Lifts a clenched fist before sending it into their gut. “I can do this as much as I want and you can't do anything about it.” He sends blow after blow. And as he bends closer to (Y/n). They take the chance and grip his ears tightly. Before screaming as loud as they could. “SAM-” As Dream sends another punch to their gut (Y/n) pulls down hard on the ear. Dream squeezes his hands around (Y/n’s) throat. “SAM PLEASE HELP. DAD-” they wail as they kick trying to escape Dream’s grasp as air begins to be a long-lost luxury. “Aw- Are you calling for daddy? He won't come (Y/n). He’s busy.” Those last words are the final words (Y/n) here before everything doubles and shifts into kaleidoscopic colors and shapes, and they take one last half-hearted breath.

(Y/n) wakes up in a calm place. Everything is so...peaceful...weirdly so. As they spin in a circle they see a playground. The cool midnight breeze ruffling (Y/n’s) hair as they skip toward the structure. Not thinking twice (Y/n) sits on one of the swings and begins to kick off. The rocking mixed with the cool breeze of the night and footsteps- wait why were their footsteps… Jumping from the swing at the top of its arch (Y/n) comes crashing down to earth. Wincing at the feeling of their body slamming against the ground. “Hello?” (Y/n) asks quietly. “Dear? Oh my- oh you were so young- Come here let’s have a little chat you and i.” a feminine voice says. (Y/n) tenses up and replies “Can- Could I stay here? On the swings I mean? I- I don't really know- I’m a little scared here- Where am-” the feminine figure comes into sight wearing a flattering simple black dress that throws her elegant features into greater depth. “Oh Honey, Do whatever makes you comfortable okay? You're in well that's hard to explain. But to put it simply, you're dead. I guess this Empty park is yours- what did My husband's son call it? Limbo? You're stuck here while we talk.” (Y/n) freezes tears forming as they sit in front of the woman. “No- I cant- Sam saved- I’m just- I'm dreaming right?” they whimper as they clutch the soft material of their sweatshirt. “Sam- He was- He saved me and I'm just having a nightmare.” (Y/n) whispers to themselves as they rock back and forth. “Here Honey let me help you. You have a bad cut and I don't want it to get infected.” (Y/n) nods slowly and as the gentle touch of the woman’s hand grazes their cheek (Y/n) jerks awake with a start. ------------------------- There had been an alarm. Luckily Sam had been in the prison at the time. As the automated voice says calmly “The Prisoner is displaying violent acts toward the visitor.” Sam’s blood runs cold. “(Y/n)” he gasps as he sprints through a special tunnel he had created in case of an event like this. As he waits for the lava to drain he regrets ignoring (Y/n). As the lava finally drains he can see Dream leaning against a wall, a hand covering his left ear as bloodstains it. While (Y/n) seems to be asleep at his feet. That doesn't help his fears. “Dream. What the hell did you do?” Sam asks quietly as he reaches the halfway point of his destination. Dream turns slowly before reaching down to (Y/n’s) head and turning it where it’s on full display for Sam to see. Bloody, and 2 giant purple hands print upon their throat. Sam Backs up disgust filling his brain. “They wouldn't stop yelling for you. I got annoyed.” dream states simply. Sam backs away in disgust as he crouches down and hoists (Y/n) up. “Sam- D’you know they kept begging for mercy. They shouted and I quote“Sam Please help. Dad” Dream’s tone is mocking as he stretches. “Obviously you failed them as a parent. When they first came in they were so eager to have someone listen to them for once instead of being bossed around.” Dream laughs. “They tried so hard to make you happy or to be proud of them. (Y/n) felt so neglected that they were genuinely excited when me- a prisoner showed interest. That says a lot about them doesn't it Sam.” Sam stares at the floor, his heart beating faster and faster. “Sam- I heard what they said to you before they came in here.” As Sam steps back onto the floating bridge he set’s (Y/n’s) body down and backs up his hands rubbing his face as the Lava begins to return to place. Sam leans on the wall a few feet from the lava covering the entrance of Dream’s holding cell. ----- Phantom(N/n). That's the only thing the ghost remembers. The only name apart from Awesamdude. Phantom(N/N) is pretty sure that Awesamdude isn't their name. Standing in a small purplish room, where two unfamiliar men stand one cowering under another man with a scar running down his face making his eye white. Tensing up Phantom(N/n) backs up and crutches into a small ball trying to stay out of view. But they were spotted. The man with the scar crutches in front of Phantom(N/n) and smiles offering out a reddish hand. Phantom(N/n) gazes up at him before taking it nervously and avoiding the gaze of the man wearing green while Alive(Y/n)’s voice murmurs to stay away from Dream. The man with the scar has warm hands Phantom(N/n) notices. Glancing up Phantom(N/n) smiles up at the man, as he gently guides the two of them across the bridge. As they reach the other end Phantom(N/n) lets go of the man's hand, noticing then that he has Light brownish feathers coming from the side of his head along with wings coming from his back with dark shiny greens and other colors. “(Y/n)?” he asks as he places his hands on each side of their shoulders. Phantom(N/n) frowns before saying “Oh you're talking about Alive(Y/n), I’m Phantom(N/n)” they smile up at him taking in his injury. Gently raising their hand Phantom(N/n) places a finger on the man’s cheek while frowning. “Does it hurt?” Phantom(N/n) asks their head tilting in concern. Phantom(N/n) removes their hand from his slightly rough scar before turning when a set of footsteps grow louder. As they turn Phantom(N/n) fiddles with the orange drawstrings while they gaze at the shiny slightly refective Blackstone floor. Lowering themself Phantom(N/n) sits on the floor tracing the cool stone tile as the two people talk in hushed hurried tones. Before the man with duck-like feathers suddenly erupts “SAM- THIS IS A CHANCE FOR YOU TO TRY TO REPAIR YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH (Y/N).” The other man Sam retorts his voice shaking “Quackity. (Y/n’s) dea-” Phantom(N/n) looks up at those words. As their eyes meet Sam’s they flick their gaze back to the floor. “I’m not (Y/n). I’m Phantom(N/n).” Phantom(N/n) murmurs quietly while Quackity and Sam continue to argue. As their shouting becomes louder and louder Phantom(N/n) stands up and tries to find an exit. Finding a passageway probably for employees Phantom(N/n) walks through pressing a hand to the wall as they skip through the cold narrow halls. The cool rush of air a pleasant change in contrast to the hot sticky-stale air of the prison cell. The yelling growing fainter Phantom(N/n) feels a breath of air go. On they didn't realize they were holding in. Reaching into their pocket Phantom(N/n) pulls out a soft Bunny. One with orange wool, and a small carrot attached with a thin string. Holding it in their hands Phantom(N/n) stares at it a small smile spreading on their face. An expression of confusion replaces the small smile before the grin returns.“ You’ll be...uh...Your...Pluto. Yeah, you’ll be Pluto.” One of pluto’s shiny black eyes catches the light of something and Phantom(N/n) stiffens as they gaze forward. Slowly turning around Sam stands their Axe in hand. Tensing up Phantom(N/n) says with a huff.“That’s not nice. You shouldn’t point pointy sharp things at people. Someone could get hurt.” Sam frowns before crouching infront of Phantom(N/n) and placing the axe somewhere in his inventory. Smiling in approval Phantom(N/n) shrugs their jacket higher on their shoulder before jumping toward Sam. “Who are the rings for? You and Mr.Quackity both had 2 each. Are you married to two people? Do I get 2 more dads?” The questions roll of Phantom(N/n’s) tongue fast. Sam stands up resting Phantom(N/n) on his hip his left arm securing them to his body. Sam hesitates before nodding. “Yeah.- yeah you do. Do you want to meet them?” the two people walk through the same hall that Phantom(N/n) had walked through. “Mr.Quackity? Who are you married to? Isn’t it the man with the swirly pattern and the other man with the headband?” Quackity nods slowly before muttering. “Something like that. They forgot about me.” Phantom(N/n) doesn't seem to like this information. Squirming in Sam’s grasp Sam gently places them down before they grab Quackity’s hand and smiling up at him “Well We’ll go make them unforget! Come one!” They state firmly as if there were no room for criticism.

#Poss angst #awesamdude #(Y/n) x awesamdude #Platonic #Quackity #Dream smp #ponk x foolish x sam #karlnapity #Dream #tommyinnit

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kyber-crystal · 5 years ago

Text

united we stand || s.r

summary: in which you, sam, steve, and natasha are forced to go on the run after civil war. unfortunately, being a fugitive with government officials out for his blood doesn’t seem to stop the great captain america from falling even more in love with you.

words: ~2.5k

warnings: slight angst, sam and natasha being matchmakers, fluff

a/n: OMG IM SORRY THIS ONE WAS SO POORLY WRITTEN ADLFJDSF

It doesn't have to come down to this, Tony. Look what you're doing. You're tearing the Avengers apart."

"You did that when you sided with Cap, Y/N."

"What do we do now?"

"We fight."

"He's my friend."

"So was I."

"He killed our parents, Y/N. And you're still willing to take his side? I thought I could trust you. But I guess I can't even rely on my own judgement anymore to make decisions, can I?"

Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you jumped from rooftop to rooftop, a dull ache forming at the edges of your skull due to all the thoughts rushing around in your brain and narrowly escaping a flurry of over two dozen of General Ross's men.

Guilt settled in the pit of your stomach, making your insides churn. You turned against the last family you had left, and now you were paying the price.

You're one hundred percent sure that Tony hates your guts at this point. Leaving your brother for someone else; what had you become?

"What now?" Sam asked, looking around and sending Redwing out to survey your surroundings for any other agents that could be approaching. "What's our next step?"

"We gotta catch a train. Belfast's no longer safe for us," Steve panted as he slid his shield over his back, trying to catch his breath. "Our safety's already compromised as it is."

"Nat's gonna go get the tickets, I'll buy us some disguises. We're less likely to be recognized because you guys are all suited up with your wings and shield," you explained. "Wait here."

A few minutes later you were all dressed inconspicuously in your new disguises, looking like the other civilians that were walking around. You didn't have enough time to check the sizes of the clothing, so Steve ended up wearing some jeans and a light grey T-shirt that was about a size too small for him, outlining every inch of his toned torso.

You quickly tore your gaze away before anyone noticed you staring. Sam caught this, however, and sent you a little wink. You glared at him in response.

"The next train to Glasgow leaves in nine. We gotta hurry," Natasha said as she handed you your tickets. "Come on."

Luckily you weren't recognized as the ticket holder came around, though you tried to keep your heads down low when she passed by.

"It's a 14 hour ride. You fellas might wanna relax, take a nap or something," she said, reclining her seat back and closing her eyes. "We won't be arriving until early tomorrow morning."

You relaxed in your seat, the tension in your muscles loosening a bit. But Steve saw the distressed look in your eyes and placed a gentle hand on top of yours.

"You alright?"

"Could be better, I mean, it's not like I chose to be a fugitive on the run from the entire world," you joked, but the smirk on your face quickly fell. "No. I'm not."

"It's going to be okay, you know. Things'll work out in the end."

"I sure hope so."

You fell into an awkward silence after that, resting your chin on your hand as you stared out ahead, watching the rolling hills whiz by in a blur, the vibrant green a sharp contrast to the powdery blue sky. Ireland was a beautiful country, really. You wished you could stay longer purely for the sake of admiring all the lovely scenery.

"You know, if you just want to talk about anything, we can do that. 14 hours is a pretty long train ride," he finally spoke up about an hour later. Sam was fast asleep at this point, mouth opened slightly as his head rested on Natasha's shoulder, who was sleeping as well.

"Yeah, it is. But we've had worse days, right?"

"We have," Steve agreed.

So you just talked, about whatever came to your minds. Your childhood, your past before joining the Avengers Initiative where you'd previously served as one of SHIELD's top agents for several years, Steve's life back in the 40's before becoming a super-soldier, how much things changed over the years. About past missions.

Soon enough you felt your eyelids droop heavily from fatigue. He noticed your tiredness and reached out his right arm, gently wrapping it around you and pulling you towards his side, encircling you completely in his warm embrace. Slowly but steadily, your muscles began to release the tension in them and you leaned into his touch.

"Why don't you get some shut-eye. We have plenty of time to talk when we arrive."

"Mhm," you mumbled sleepily. He smiled, brushing a few stray hairs away from your face as you drifted off.

...

"Good morning ladies and gentlemen, this is our final stop. We have arrived at Glasgow Central Station," the conductor's voice announced over the intercom as the train began slowing down. "The weather is currently 59 degrees, and it is 5:27 a.m."

"Wake up, lovebirds," Natasha clapped as you stirred slightly, looking confused as you raised your head from where it rested against Steve's chest. "Time to get going."

You yawned and stood up, stepping off onto the platform into the station, surprisingly busy at the crack of dawn. You really just wanted to curl back up into a ball and sleep. Talking for four hours straight with Steve had knocked you out completely.

After getting new SIM cards, Sam quickly created an account to get you checked into a hotel.

"It's a half hour walk. We should probably limit public transportation as much as we can," he stated as he slid his phone into his jacket pocket. "Managed to snag a 40% off deal including a free night, so we're good for the next few weeks until we get an actual apartment."

"You know," Natasha commented, adjusting her baseball cap and aviators as you made your way outside down the bustling street, "if we weren't currently trying to flee from the government's grasp, I'd say I'd wanna come back here for a vacation. And that's on nice architecture."

"With us?" you raised an eyebrow.

"Why not? You're pretty good company. I wouldn't wanna hang out with anyone else."

"Well, what can I say?" Sam puffed up his chest. "I'm smooth with the ladies."

You simply laughed. "Yeah, sure you are."

Glasgow was a breathtaking city. With sprawling Victorian style buildings and cobblestone roads, brightly labeled bars and restaurants, it appeared as if it was pulled straight from a rustic 19th-century painting.

You checked into your hotel after grabbing some food from the nearby bakery. For a cheap price, your room was surprisingly simple but large: a king bed in one room, a pullout couch, and a small balcony so you could stand outside and take in the view of the city.

Despite having no time zone difference between Ireland and Scotland, you were still extremely jet-lagged, most likely due to the flight you'd taken over to Berlin not long ago. After binge-watching reruns of some sitcom for the rest of the day, you fell asleep, clutching your pillow tightly.

Natasha and Sam had good eyes, and could clearly see something was going on between you and Steve.

The truth was, you wanted something to happen but both of you were too chicken to make a move, thinking being in relationship while on the run was inconvenient and unnecessary.

The first few days passed by relatively quickly. You only really went out to buy groceries, and even then you went two at a time to avoid drawing unwanted attention to yourselves. Once, you treated yourselves to a night out at a nice restaurant, enjoying each others' company. It was a way to forget about your currently unfortunate situation.

...

But then the nightmares began.

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed after waking up in a cold sweat, heading over to the bathroom. Everyone had already gone to sleep long ago, and you envied people like Sam as he could knock out cold almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Staring at your ghostly reflection in the mirror, you squeezed your eyes shut, releasing tears that cascaded down your flushed cheeks in a hot flood. You ran trembling fingers through your messy hair in an attempt to tame it, taking a brief look at your disheveled appearance. The heavy dark circles underneath your bloodshot eyes that were a result of hardly sleeping over the past week were clear, as well as your sunken cheekbones and deathly pale complexion.

You studied the woman that looked back at you, with the same unnerving and hollowed out gaze that she'd worn for years; a façade she learned to develop so that nobody could see when she felt weak; helpless.

Ten days.

Only ten days had passed since you arrived in Scotland, yet it seemed as if you aged ten years during that short amount of time. Small creases in between your brows indicated stress and anxiety from leaving everything you knew behind, for a future you could barely see ahead of. For a life that held an endless amount of consequences if you took one misstep, one wrong move.

Your body felt heavy, weighed down as if you carried the weight of a thousand men upon your aching shoulders. You didn't know what to do; what to think anymore.

You didn't look thirty-two anymore, you looked older. Almost as old as Tony. And there was a 10+ year age gap between you and him.

God, Tony.

You betrayed him. The last living member of your family on earth, and you betrayed him.

Turned your back on him, because you didn't believe in the same ideas. Was it really worth turning your back on your own blood just because of a disagreement?

I thought I could trust you.

I thought I could, too. But I guess things don't always work out as planned, do they?

They don't. I don't even know what I can say to you anymore. Hell, I can't look at you without seeing a traitor. You turned your back on all of us, and that's unforgivable.

The Accords, you know I couldn't sign them. It isn't right. I'm fighting for what I believe in.

No, you're fighting for Steve, not yourself. Always running over to precious Cap even if it costs you your safety, if it costs you everything and everyone you ever loved. Because you think that you can rely on him and him alone, to get through this. You won't get very far by keeping this act up, you know.

News flash; the world doesn't revolve around you, Tony. Just because someone doesn't agree with what you believe, doesn't mean you have to tear their team, their family, apart for it.

You're blaming me?

Maybe I am.

"What are you doing up this late?"

Steve's voice jolted you from your train of thought, and you looked up to see him leaning against the doorframe dressed in sweats and another tight-fitting T-shirt, his blue eyes scanning over you worriedly.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I'm fine, if that's what you're wondering. I'm just a bit jet-lagged," you muttered, hastily wiping away another stray tear that escaped. He pushed himself off the wall and caught your wrist as you were bringing your hand down, tugging you towards him slightly.

"Tell me what's going on."

"I'm fine!"

"No, you're not. What's wrong, Y/N?"

"I..." your voice faltered. You didn’t even realize you’d started crying until you felt your face grow wet from the salty tears that rolled silently into your cracked lips. "I don't know. Everything's wrong."

"Everything?"

"I made a mistake."

"What do you mean, mistake?"

"I turned my back against Tony. My family. I betrayed my own family, Steve." Your voice cracked. "And now I can't even guarantee that I'll ever see him again."

"You did what you had to do," he said softly, placing a hand on your shoulder. You felt your skin burning up under his touch. "You were just trying to do what you felt was right."

"Yeah, by teaming up with the side of the man who killed my parents. I can't imagine what he even thinks of me right now."

A look of hurt briefly passed over Steve's face at the mention of Bucky.

"...But I know their deaths were out of his control, so I don't blame him," you continued. "Still..I hurt him. And now, I have to live with knowing that fact." "Look, I'm sorry."

"What?"

You looked up and met his gaze, feeling his bright blue eyes boring into yours. He didn't seem upset or angry at all; there was an eerie softness and calming feeling about the way he looked at you that made you relax a bit.

"I shouldn't have dragged you into this mess. I never wanted you to have this kind of life; where you're always living in uncertainty. You deserve better than that."

"It's not your fault at all," you swallowed hard. Talking and breathing grew increasingly difficult with the sob that was building up in the back of your throat, that you tried desperately to conceal for so long, "it's mine. I made that decision to side with you, not only because I couldn't stand the idea of signing the Accords. So it's...it's on me. God, I don't know what to do anymore, I can't—"

A wave of grief suddenly hit you from all sides, causing you to keel over, sliding down against the cold wall with a hand clutching your stomach as an agonized scream tear itself through your body and out of your throat. And you were drowning; suffocated by your own tears as you struggled to breathe. You tried desperately to stop them but nothing could seem to hold back the heavy sobs that wracked your body, clawing at your lungs and heart.

Steve crouched down in front of you and pulled you against him, arms tightening around your body with each cry that escaped your lips. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to take all your sadness and frustration and grief and put it upon himself, to carry the weight on his shoulders so he wouldn't have to watch you endure the pain. He'd much rather have to suffer himself than watch you try and bear the burden and fall to pieces in the process.

Seeing you breaking down before him with your gut-wrenching cries that echoed across the small space, more vulnerable than you'd ever been in front of him before, made it feel as if someone was directly ripping his heart right out of his chest and tearing it into a thousand pieces with their bare hands.

"Hey, it's okay," he whispered soothingly as he pressed his lips to the side of your temple, "it's okay. I've got you. You're gonna be okay."

Despite how you felt as if your heart was twisting itself into knots, there was something comforting about the way he held you ever so gently in his arms, the way his warm breath fell against his neck as one arm was firmly hooked around your waist, running his free hand through your hair.

So for a moment, you allowed yourself to believe that there was no one else in the world except for just you and him, holding you close, and that everything was fine, even if the feeling only lasted for a second.

#steve rogers x reader #avengers x reader #captain america imagine #marvel fic #avengers fanfiction #steve rogers one shot #captain america one shot #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #captain america x reader

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themusicplayedherlife · 4 years ago

Text

Unrequited (Part 5)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader characters: bucky barnes, reader, steve rogers, natasha romanoff, tony stark, pietro maximoff, crystal amaquelin, clint barton, sam wilson, sharon carter, word count: 7k+ warnings: curse words, flirty bucky, flirty tony, angst, sad friends summary: things are changing and its startng to get hard to keep up a/n: hi, welcome to the slowest update and slowest burn story ever, but its here now--and let me tell you, this chapter is NOT how i planned... still like the outcome and really, it just means that the next ch is going to be just as long (im also looking for someone to beta future chapters ;o; so if youre interested, lemme know)

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“Natasha?” you call out, entering the eerily quiet apartment. The lights are off, the television quiet and dark, everything you used for breakfast is still in the sink, none of it put away—she hates seeing a full sink, but hates washing dishes in the morning even more, preferring to do them when she gets home when it’s her turn.

You call out for her again, your footsteps echoing as you make your way to her bedroom. Knocking, you wait for a beat before opening the door, and just like the rest of your shared home, her room is dark—even the neon lights she likes leaving on occasionally are turned off.

Where could she be?

There’s a note on the island counter that has you frowning—Out for the day. It reads in Natasha’s cursive writing. I’ll be home for dinner.

You don’t share any classes with Natasha, today. In fact, you don’t have any classes Tuesdays, something you’re grateful for because having classes everyday last year really stressed you out, and while you’re still stressed having three classes on three days of the week, you have more days to relax and study if need be.

Your free days also give you the chance to spend time with Natasha, something you both take seriously. Afterall, you made a promise to one another senior year of highschool that you’d always carve out a little bit of time for each other and that you’d always tell one another what was on your mind, never letting it fester.

It feels… weird knowing something is wrong and not knowing what it could be. But you just have to give her space and wait for her to tell you on her own, just as she gives you space when you need it.

Doesn’t mean you like it, though.

With a loud sigh, you leave your apartment.

You shoot him a quick text to let him know you’re here, and he replies by giving you the code for the building and his floor and apartment number.

Seriously, Bucky? Why is he making you go up?

Grumbling, you take the elevator to the fourth floor and knock on his door, ready to rip him a new one for having you meet at his place rather than somewhere else when it opens to reveal… not Bucky?

Naked torso and bright blue eyes greet you, and widen in surprise as a small squeak escapes your lips. You try to ignore the heat clawing its way up your neck and to your face, desperately hoping he wouldn’t notice.

He says your name breathlessly and you return the gesture with another squeal, head lightheaded and you’re pretty sure it’s not healthy to have all your blood rush to your face like this.

“Steve!” You avert your eyes and focus on the wooden door and the gold numbers 404 instead of his pretty, hairless chest. But it’s kind of hard to keep your focus on something else when your eyes keep wanting to move his way! “Bucky told me to meet him here?”

As if he was waiting for his name, his head pops over Steve’s shoulder, a small smirk on his face—has it always been this punchable? Because your fingers are itching to clock him and wipe that smug look off of his face—that’s becoming a thing isn’t it?

“You’re finally here!” He pushes Steve aside and opens the door wide for you, ignoring the protests of his best friend. He latches onto your wrist, not allowing you a chance to look over the open spaced apartment and pulls you along with him towards the elevator. “I’m taking the car! And put a shirt on!”

You chance a glance over your shoulder to find Steve staring after you both with raised eyebrows and slightly parted lips. Fuck.

“What the hell, Bucky?” you ask as soon as you’re in the privacy of the elevator.

“You’re welcome,” he says, pressing the button for B—basement you’re assuming.

“You’re welcome?” You repeat incredulously. “For what?”

“What do you mean for what? You got to see a shirtless Steve thanks to me!”

He has a point, the little voice in your head says, but you refuse to listen. Pursing your lips, you turn your eyes away to stare at the blinking numbers over the sliding doors. “I’m not thanking you for that.”

He pouts and it’s so uncharastically Bucky, or at least it's uncharacteristic for the Bucky you thought you knew, that it throws you off guard for a moment. You clear your throat and try to recover. “Come on! I did good! You saw a shirtless, Steve! What are the odds of that happening?”

“Literally none.” He grins at your deadpan words. “Still don’t appreciate it, Bucky! That was embarrassing, for him and me.”

He sighs, slouching back into the elevator wall like a little kid having been scolded for stealing a piece of chocolate. “Okay, I get it. I get it, no more tricking you into seeing a shirtless Steve.”

You resist the urge to sigh heavily at his words. “I hate you.”

He grins toothily.

You watch him as he smiles at the poor girl behind the register ringing him up for a pair of sunglasses. She ducks her head shyly, curling a lock of her hair behind her ear as does her best to quell the blushing on her cheek.

He had told you to keep an eye on them, watch him as he tries to win over the cashier with his charm, but from where you’re standing? You’re not seeing shit.

He thanks her with another smile, taking his card that she hands back to him before making his way to you.

You quickly look away when her eyes begin to drift from him to you.

“Did you see?” he asks as he settles into step with you to lead you to another store.

You nod and cock an eyebrow. “What exactly was I supposed to learn from that?”

He makes a face—nose scrunched and eyebrows furrowed. “How easy it is to flirt?”

“I saw none of that,” you deadpan.

He sighs deeply as if completely disappointed in your lack of attention and you have to resist the urge to smack him and roll your eyes. “Did you not see how I—you know what. Never mind.” Before you can even question him, he continues on: “We’re not just here to teach you how to flirt, we’re also here because you need an outfit for the party. Two birds,” two fingers lift into the air and then one finger goes down, “one stone.”

You do a double take, blinking slowly and letting his words process. “I need an—no, I don’t!”

“Oh, yeah?” He raises an eyebrow as he opens the door. “What were you thinking about wearing, then?”

“I don’t know?” You reply indignantly. What exactly is he getting at? “Some jeans and a shirt? You know, like casual clothes.”

When you don’t make a move to enter, he grabs your arm and pulls you along with an eye roll. “That’d be fine for any other party, but this is a Stark party. People dress up to impress, and those that don’t, stick out like a sore thumb.”

Great.

“Come on, sourpuss.”

That’s rich coming from him.

But then again, he hasn’t been much of a sourpuss with you anymore has he?

“What about this?” he asks, amusement laced in his words as he grins stupidly at you. In his hands is a short and skimpy dress that you would never wear out of fear of what you might accidentally end up flaunting.

A glare is all he gets as a response and he laughs loudly. “I’m joking!”

You miss sourpuss Bucky.

He has you searching the floor for something—anything, he deems acceptable for Stark’s party, but you honestly don’t understand why you can’t just wear casual clothes. And when you voice it, he keeps emphasizing the whole “sticking out like a sore thumb” bit. As if he knew you liked blending with the crowd rather than stand out. You relent, allowing him to help you pick something out, too, but you still don’t like the idea of dressing up for a College party.

A blue romper is suddenly shoved in your line of vision and you took a step back to follow the arm attached to the shimmery romper. “Pretty, right?”

You wrinkle your nose involuntarily. It is a pretty romper (better than the first one), with a low open back and a sweetheart neckline. You’d wear it, but it looks more suitable for clubbing than a college party.

“I think it’ll look good on you!”

You reluctantly grab it from his thrusting hand. “Isn’t it too much?” You check the tag. “Besides, not my size.”

“It’s perfect for Tony’s party,” he muses as he ushers you towards the rack where he found the romper, encouraging you to find your correct size. “And it’s actually pretty tame compared to what you’ll see others wearing.”

“You know, you’ve been really making me dread going to this party,” you grumble, pulling out a romper that’s in your size. “You keep making it sound like it’s the event of the year.”

He nudges you towards the changing rooms. “It might as well be. A lot of people look forward to his parties, use it as a chance to completely unwind without any rules binding them to the usual frat party rules.”

Which would make sense as to why Natasha is looking forward to it, especially when she seems to be stressed from outside factors.

“That still doesn’t make me feel better.”

He rolls his eyes. “Stop being a baby.”

The dressing room attendant allows you both in with a smile, pointing to a stall you may use, and you both thank her.

The music is a little louder in the dressing room area than it was on the floor, Dua Lipa’s New Rules blasting loudly, enough to make you drum your finger against the hanger.

“Besides,” he starts from the other side of the door. Through the crack, you can see him with his back turned towards you and waiting. “Going to this party will be your chance to open flirty dialogue with Steve, show him you’re actually interested in him.”

You take your time undressing. “None of what I’ve seen so far will help, Bucky. Smiling and touching someone isn’t flirting.”

“It will!” he assures you over the music. “It’s part of the basics on how to flirt.”

“Okay? But what else?” You were really hoping for more. He made teaching you how to flirt seem like such a big deal the other day.

He doesn’t answer you.

“Bucky?” When he doesn’t answer again, you quickly scramble to put on the romper, not bothering to check yourself in the mirror. You call his name again. No answer. Again. “Are you—“ You open the door to your dressing room and to your surprise, Bucky is still standing outside of your dressing room, closer to the one next to yours. “Why weren’t you answering?”

He leans against the door with his shoulder, hands in his pockets and stormy eyes meet yours when you poke your head out. “Well? Aren’t you gonna show me?” Your forehead creases as your eyebrows curve inward. He motions to the side with his head as if asking you to step out.

With a reluctant step, you come out of hiding, showing him the outfit with a ducked head.

His eyes sweep over you and his hands come out of his pockets, a lopsided grin appearing on his lips. “Wow—you look—you look great, doll.”

Doll? You don’t question it even though you’re curious about the sudden pet name, besides, you’re a little flustered at the genuinity in his voice “You think so?”

“It’s gonna be hard for anyone to look away from you,” he says, eyes twinkling with some kind of emotion that you can’t read. Mischief, maybe?

You pause, the heat that had been gathering in your cheeks suddenly cools as the hair on your arms stand awkwardly. You can’t help the small shiver that runs down your spine, or the small noise of disgruntlement that escapes your lips. What was wrong with him? “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, reaching for a lock of your hair and you jerked away.

Your eyes narrow as you watch the smile on his face grow, but soon they widen as the realization hit you. “Are you—are you trying to flirt with me?”

His smile drops and it’s your turn for your smile to grow, a laugh escaping your lips. His lips form a pout and he groans. “Why are you laughing? This isn’t funny. I’m teaching you how to flirt!”

“By giving me chills?”

He leans away from you, in shock that you’d think he’d ever do such a thing! “I did not give you chills!”

“You did!” you assert as you lift your arm to show him the bumps and awkwardly standing arm hair.

“There’s no way I caused that!”

You shove your arm further into his direction. “You totally did!”

He stares at you unblinkingly, your words processing in his head and taking in your form, until finally, he groans loudly, gaining the attention of the attendant. “But my flirting has never failed!”

You laugh, stepping away from him. “Well, your mom did say you seem to be under a dry spell.”

“Hey!” He sputters. “Just get changed!”

You shake your head with a smile and head back into the changing room to change out of the romper and back into your regular clothes.

After paying for the romper and walking around aimlessly, you two find yourself at the food court sitting across from one another with ice creams in hand.

“Since—apparently—showing you wasn't the best way to reach you how to flirt, telling you might be,” he says after a spoonful of his strawberry cheesecake ice cream. “Flirting isn’t rocket science, doll. Everyone can do it.”

“Not everyone.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit. Flirting is all about conversation and being confident while doing it,” he says, straightening his back. “A lot of people have this… idea, that you have to be coy and charming to flirt, but you don’t have to be. Sometimes it’s all about compliments, other times it’s about subtle touching, or most of the time—both.”

You close your lips around your spoon, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Try it on me.”

Your spoon almost drops from your hands at his words. “What?”

“Try flirting with me.”

“Bucky—“

“You’ve seen me flirt twice—“

“I learned nothing from either time.”

He blatantly ignores you and you can’t help but laugh under your breath. “So, you have an idea of what you should do when flirting with someone.”

“I don’t know—“

“Just compliment me, talk to me, reach for my hand or something.” He smiles. “You’ve got this.”

You take a deep breath and finally relent. Placing your spoon back into the cup with your melting ice cream, your eyes meet his expectant gaze.

Sweeping over his eager gaze, your eyes fall on the red beaded bracelet wrapped around his wrist. It’s homemade, a little worn out by the look of the scratches on some of the beads. But it’s cute, reminds you of something you would’ve made when you were in middle school for Natasha, or something your younger brother would’ve made for you. Did one of his sisters make it for him? Shyly, and nervously, you reach for the beaded bracelet, gently running your index finger over the small beads.

“I like your bracelet.”

“Yeah?” He asks with a wide grin, stormy eyes watching you carefully and you can’t help the heat licking at your skin—god, this is embarrassing!

“Yeah, it’s cute… looks good on you,” you mutter, hooking a finger under the bracelet and flashing your eyes up at him from under your lashes, still feeling hot and embarrassed, and if you cry, holy shit you’re going to die. You can’t even read Bucky’s expression, there’s a smile on his face but his eyes are pretty neutral. Fuck. What if you’re messing up? What if you’re only making a fool out of yourself? “No!” You gasp softly, extracting your finger from his bracelet and covering your face with both hands. “No, I can’t do it!”

“Come on,” he drawls and gently takes hold of your wrists to coax your hands away from your face. “You were doing great!”

You let him pull down your hands and purse your lips, not completely believing him, but he sounds genuine enough. “Was I really?”

“Yes, you were!” he says, patting your hands in his. “You complimented something on me and me, found an excuse to touch me and kept eye contact for most of it! That’s pretty fucking amazing.”

You slip your hands from his to cup your jaw and groan. “I wish I could believe you.”

“All you really had to do was ask questions, prolong the conversation, make me think you’re interested in knowing more about me,” he advises softly. “If you do something similar like this to Steve? He’ll be putty in your hands.”

Giddiness bubbles in your stomach as you think of Steve flirting back, but… “But what if I get too nervous? Or fail?”

“Then you breathe, remind yourself you’re having a conversation to get to know him outside of what you already do know.” He waits for a beat, eyes searching your face for a moment and sighs. “Some people like to lay it on thick with the charm because that’s what they’re good at. You? You’re just… you. Doe-eyed, a little awkward, more than a little blunt sometimes. So use that to your advantage.”

You don’t fully believe him, but he sounds so sure of himself that you can’t help but agree to try it. “All right. Okay, I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all you need.” He grins and tilts his head towards one of the many entrances of the mall. “Want to head home?”

You look down at the ice cream pooling in your cup and decide to throw it out along with Bucky’s empty cup. “Mind if I check out the Disney store before we go?”

He remains seated, thanking you as you take his trash with yours. “Was afraid you wouldn’t ask.”

Throwing the two cups, you look at Bucky over your shoulder, ignoring the family of four that cuts between you to occupy a table. “You like Disney?”

He scoffs, offended that you even thought of asking such a heinous question. “Of course, I do.”

You shrug, laughing under your breath as you wipe the imaginary dust from your hands. “Most guys hide their affinity for Disney.”

Without thinking much of it, Bucky grabs the bag carrying your romper from the empty chair. When you make a grab for it, he tells you he’s got it and begins to lead you towards the Disney store. You follow after him, thankful. “I’m not most guys,” he quips back. “But… uh… does Natasha not like guys that like Disney?”

You blink, processing his shy inquiry and then throw your head back in laughter.

“Hey! It’s a legit question, if she doesn’t—“

You fall into step with him, smothering your laughter with the back of your hand. “What? Are you going to hide your love for the mouse from her if she doesn’t?”

“Maybe?”

You roll your eyes. “I suggest you don’t, Bucky. Natasha… she likes authenticity.” He knows this! But he’s really gung-ho on changing himself for her, isn’t he?

“It’s not like I’m going to lie about it! I’ll just be… omitting the truth.”

“That is lying,” you say with a bit of whine and drawl in your voice. “Lying by omission.”

“Whatever gets her attention.” His lips turn down and his eyes sweep down at you with a semi glazed look before staring forward. “That’s the whole point of this, right? Getting their attention?”

You try to hide the wince and find that you can’t bring yourself to refute him.

Your eyes meet your own in your mirror’s reflection, and with a deep breath, you leave your bedroom.

Natasha is on her phone, fingers tapping away at the screen barely acknowledging you other than a, “Finally!”

“Sorry,” you start as you make a beeline to the fridge for water. “I’m just a little unsure of what I’m wearing.”

She looks up, twisting in her seat to take a look at you and she lets out a strange noise that sounds akin to excitement. “Where have you been hiding this little number?”

You purse your lips. “It’s okay?”

“Are you kidding me?” She stands and makes her way over to you, smirking wickedly, hand to her chest as she buckles her knees. “I am in love!”

You gently push her away and she cackles. “God, you’re so weird.”

“You love me!”

“Yeah, yeah!”

Pietro: bruh, i am in awe

Pietro: i shit you not, you’re going to be fucking blown away when you guys get here

You: His place that nice?

Pietro: what do you think?

Attached to the message is a picture of Pietro making a face at a large chocolate fountain in the middle of who knows where and you honestly can’t believe it. You really fucking can’t. Who fucking owns a chocolate fountain other than a fictional character?

“Are you seeing this?” you ask Natasha, who sits beside you in the moving taxi, staring incredulously at your phone screen as you receive another message from Pietro, but this time of him sticking a marshmallow into the fountain with a stick.

She hums. “Seeing what?”

“What Pietro just sent—group chat?”

“Oh,” she says. “No.”

Sighing, you put away your phone, ignoring the incoming text from Pietro most likely asking how far away you are. “Who do you keep texting?”

“Huh?” She looks up at you after a moment of silence. “Oh, a friend—hey, you don’t mind if I invited them to tag along, right?”

A friend? You try to keep yourself from frowning, keeping a more neutral, curious expression. “I don’t mind, but, who did you invite?” You’re pretty sure you know everyone she knows or at least know of the people she deems worthy enough to call friends—which aren’t many (and are literally the same people you call friends).

“He’s one of the guards at the center,” she says, returning her attention to her phone, a smile appearing on her lips as she types out another message. “I had trouble on the first day and he helped me.”

“Wait, you had trouble?” Why didn’t she tell you that? She had only mentioned that it went well, but the kids could be a bit too much if she wasn’t stern enough.

She waves her hand dismissively. “Yeah, got lost. Not a big deal.”

She got lost and made a friend on her first day and it’s no big deal? “Right.”

She raises her head to look at you once more, eyebrow cocked and ready to say or ask something, but the driver pulling up slowly and saying, “Here we are,” distracts you both, stealing your attention for a moment and making you both glance out the window.

“Wow,” is all you can manage to say as you stare up at the modern home—mansion, really—as you push open the car door to step out, Natasha right behind you. You knew Tony was rich, but this, this is crazy rich.

The chocolate fountain now makes sense.

You both thank your driver and the man nods, wishing you both a fun night before driving off.

“And I thought your parent’s home was big,” you tell Natasha.

She chuckles, clapping your back before beginning to lead you towards the main entrance and closer to the loud music playing indoors. “Pietro and Crystal are already here, right?”

“Yep. They might be by the chocolate fountain, wherever that is.”

“Cool, I’m going to look for my friend,” she says, pushing open the door and allowing the music to escape from the enclosed space—“Meet you there?”

She’s seriously not thinking of leaving you—oh my god, she is. She’s really leaving you!

Before you can even begin to protest, she’s become one with the sea of bodies occupying the open space and you can no longer see your friend among the masses.

Great. Now what?

You frown and when a person knocks into you by accident, giving you a hasty apology as they keep moving, you can’t help but sigh. Why did you even decide to come?

You pull out your phone and read the message Pietro sent you earlier, and reply telling him that you’ve arrived. In a matter of seconds, you receive a message from him saying he’s still by the chocolate fountain and to hurry the fuck up.

Well, at least you still have Pietro.

Just as you’re about to put your phone away, it vibrates with a text notification, your text tone completely drowned out by the music.

James Bucky: How’s the party?

You: Just got here

James Bucky: Barely?

The music is loud around you as you push through the crowd, people not really caring if you bump into them, all of them in their own little world as the bass reverberates through their bones.

You: Wasnt super keen on the romper.

You: Jumped around a lot of outfits

James Bucky: But I thought you looked great!

James Bucky: You ARE wearing it, right?

You: yes, zazu gosh

James Bucky: wait

James Bucky: Zazu from the Lion King?

James Bucky: are you calling me an overbearing bird?

You: 🤷🏻‍♀️

You: if the shoe fits

James Bucky: listen, if I’m anyone from the movie, I’m Simba

You snort as you reply back: Sure you are

James Bucky: Rude!

James Bucky: Have you seen Steve, yet?

You: no.

You: Looking for Pietro and his girlfriend first

James Bucky: All right

James Bucky: Guess I’ll let you go

James Bucky: just remember to relax! You’ve got this!

Yeah! You do got this!

Thanks, Bucky.

Your search for the fountain leads you outside to a small courtyard where it’s a little less crowded, but just as noisy with the music and talking. In the middle of it all is the glorious chocolate fountain and in front of it a long table of fruits and other assortments that could be dipped into the chocolate.

“What do you think?” A voice suddenly says next to your ear and you can’t help but let out a surprised squeal as you jump around to face the culprit. “Cool right?”

“Tony! What the hell?”

He chuckles and looks you over, his eyes still obscured by his dark glasses. “You look good.” He sounds sincere enough, but you can’t help but raise your eyebrow in suspicion.

“Thanks?”

He grins. “You’re welcome.” He looks around you. “Came alone?”

“Ah, no, I came with Natasha, but she went searching for someone.”

“And you?” He asks, removing his eyewear and hooking it’s leg into the collar of his shirt. “You’re not searching for anyone?”

“I am…” you say, a little hesitant, unsure of what his question is meant to mean. “My friend Pietro.”

He tilts his head to the side. “You mean silver haired kid over there?”

You follow his line of vision, head twisting to look over your shoulder where Pietro and his girlfriend are sitting on a wooden bench, gorging on strawberries covered in chocolate. “Thanks.”

“Buckaroo didn’t come with you?” he asks, stopping you from making your way over to Pietro and Crystal.

“Uh, no. Said he didn’t feel like it.”

Tony snorts, he sounds a little bitter. “Of course, he did.”

Curious. “Did you want him to come?”

He presses his lips thinly, before smiling wickedly. “I’d like for someone else to come.”

“Seriously?”

He grins, head ducking and glasses slipping off the bridge of his nose, but he does nothing to stop them. “Sorry, bad joke.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“Do you usually do that?”

He catches your gaze over the rim of his glasses. “What? Make bad jokes?” He shrugs. “Probably.”

“No,” you start slowly, pausing for a moment to search his eyes, study him as much as possible before he can grow offended by your next words, words that you probably wouldn’t say to a stranger and shouldn’t say to a stranger, but still do. “Do you usually deflect when someone goes into uncharted territory?”

He tenses, eyes narrowing and jaw clenching, it only lasts for a second, but you catch it. And that’s enough for you to know you’re right. He lets out a dramatic sigh and looks away from you, pushing his glasses back up. “Ah, and here I thought you’d be more fun than most of these people.”

You purse your lips, ready to retort, but before you can, a hand lands on your shoulder, pulling you away from Tony and to a muscular body—Pietro.

“Is he bothering you?” Pietro asks, eyes locked on to Tony, not even bothering to look down at you. It’s the big brother act.

“Pietro!” You scold him, pushing him away from you and from confronting Tony. “It’s fine. We were just talking.”

“And now we’re not,” Tony announces, eyes moving from Pietro to you. “Have fun, gorgeous.”

“What was that about?” Pietro mutters, confused as you both stare after Tony. And you can’t help but watch as he joins a group, laughing and smiling with them for only a moment before moving on to the next one. Never staying in one place.

“I don’t know,” you admit, a small frown making a home on your features.

You can never truly tell what the hell is going on with Pietro and Crystal. One moment they’re both laughing and having the time of their life and the next they’re arguing about the little things—this time the little thing being, well, you.

You’ve always known that Crystal wasn’t and isn’t particularly fond of you and Natasha, sometimes seeing both of you as some kind of threat or rivals for Pietro’s love, but you and Natasha usually pay her no mind. This time, however, it’s a little hard to ignore them when she’s whining about the fact you’re third wheeling their date, forgetting the fact that you and Natasha had invited Pietro in the first place, and he had decided to bring his girlfriend along.

Where’s Natasha when you need her?

Why did you decide to come anyway? Bucky wasn’t joking when he said a Stark party wasn’t a place for striking up conversation, yet somehow he encouraged you to come and said it would be the perfect opportunity to flirt with Steve. Who, by the way, you haven’t seen since you arrived! Granted, you haven’t moved from your spot in the courtyard, but you aren’t so sure going around specifically looking for Steve would be such a good idea. What if you do start dating Steve and you one day tell him that you frantically looked around for him at a Stark party, actively avoiding everyone just to be able to talk to him? He’d most likely freak and call you a freak, and you’d much rather avoid that.

“Then go,” you hear Pietro snap, pulling you from your rambling thoughts to look at him and Crystal, both of them practically in each other’s faces.

His blonde girlfriend with wide blue eyes falters, eyes drifting from him to you and back, and you watch as her bottom lip wobbles for dramatic effect before throwing her hands up in the air and pushing Pietro away from her. “Fine! I didn’t even want to come to this stupid party anyway!”

Pietro sighs heavily as she storms off.

“You sure letting her leave like that is a good idea?”

“Yeah,” he says through a grimace, falling back down onto the bench he and Crystal has been occupying. “It’s fine. We’ll work it out tomorrow. We always do.”

You have no doubt they’ll work it out, because he’s right, they always do. But you still can’t help but worry. How much more fighting and arguing can they take before they break? “Okay. Do you want me to get you a drink?”

He shakes his head and reaches for the red plastic cup by his feet. “I’m good, thank you.” He scoots over and pats the seat next to him.

You flash him a small smile and drop yourself down next to him, taking the chocolate strawberry he offers you before pressing his own strawberry against yours and scarfing it down.

“What’s with the doom and gloom?” Natasha finally joins you, finding you and Pietro sitting on the wooden bench, gorging on chocolate covered fruit. “It’s a party!”

You and Pietro don’t bother reacting to her shimmy of the arms, you instead cock an eyebrow. “Did you find your friend?”

She nods, smiling, looking over her shoulder and making a come here motion with her hand—and who exactly she motions over isn’t who you were expecting.

Not only is it Steve, but it’s Steve. Handsome, blue eyes, pretty Steve, who flashes you a bright smile even after you’ve seen him half naked.

Your mouth falls open in surprise. Steve? Why would it be Steve? As far as you knew, Steve doesn’t work as a security guard. Not at campus, not at the accounting firm he’s interning, and definitely not at a recreational center! He would’ve mentioned it, right? You look at Natasha, but she’s not looking at you, and she’s not looking at Steve either, you note.

She’s looking at someone behind him, someone shorter with darker hair—dirtier, and darker blue eyes—“Clint?”

All eyes snap in your direction, but you pay them no mind, you’re completely transfixed by the man wearing a purple hoodie and acid wash jeans, who immediately recognizes you and smiles cheekily.

“You know each other?” Natasha asks and it's Clint who explains with a nod.

“She’s a regular at the museum, usually comes in during my shift.”

“Huh.” Natasha huffs out a breath. “Small world.”

Steve chuckles and that sound would usually cause your heart to flutter, but you’re currently very much in awe of the fact that Natasha has adopted Clint as her friend. “Guess that makes it easier with the introductions.”

“Uh, excuse you. I don’t know who he is. Hi, I’m Pietro. And you are?”

“Clint Barton, security guard extraordinaire.”

Natasha smiles in Clint’s direction and leans against him, surprisingly enough—which is putting it lightly. You’re more than surprised, you’re absolutely floored, Pietro is too because he turns to you with wide eyes and mouths “what the fuck?”

What the fuck indeed.

Natasha isn't the type to be so… hands on or touchy with strangers (well, then again, Clint isn’t exactly a stranger). It took months—half a year to be exact—for her to be comfortable with touching Pietro, and being touched by him. But here she is, having known Clint for a couple of weeks—BARELY—and is already using Clint as a resting post.

Yeah.

It’s official.

Bucky is screwed.

A Stark party is a sensitive overload, if you’re being honest.

Here you are being rewarded with Steve looking mighty fine in a yellow button down and dark, regular jeans, but you’re somehow distracted by the way your best friend refuses to leave Clint’s side.

She’s smiling, chuckling that soft, genuine chuckle of hers when he cracks a joke or tells a funny story. There’s a spark in her smile and eyes that you haven’t seen in such a long time—not since high school.

You’re happy for her…. but…

This is going to hurt Bucky, isn’t it?

“Hey,” Steve’s warm voice reaches your ears and your body reacts without a minute to waste. Heat crawling up your neck as you practically rip your eyes from them to him.

“Steve, hey.”

“You look beautiful.” Your heart practically beats out of your chest, eyes widening at his sincere compliment and how he studies you with a warm gaze. It takes all of your energy to stay upright, even when the blood rushes to your head and your knees buckle.

He called you beautiful. Steve. Steve freaking Rogers!

Breathe and relax, doll. Flirting is simple conversation. Not an art. “Thank you.” Your voice is quiet, but still managing to be heard over the music if the tick of his lips is anything to go by. “You do too. Yellow is a good color on you.”

What? What kind of compliment is that?! Every color is a good color on Steve!

He chuckles, his eyes slipping down to the button down he’s wearing. “Thanks. This is actually Bucky’s. Told me I should wear it for tonight.” He fixes the collar of his shirt as the first button comes undone, and you can’t help but avert your gaze shyly. What the fuck is wrong with you? It’s just some skin, you dumbass! “You wouldn’t think so, but Bucky actually has an eye for picking out clothes,” he says fondly, proud of his best friend. “It’s one of his hidden talents.”

You return your gaze to him, but this time focus on his eyes, smiling when his own gaze meets yours. “I actually believe you. He helped pick out this romper for me.”

His eyes brows quirk upward. “Bucky did? Really?

“Uh, yeah, actually.” Did you say the wrong thing?

You almost grow worried when the silence between the two of you stretches for a moment longer until he smiles again, eyes softening. “I’m glad you’ve become Bucky’s friend.”

You’re not so sure you and Bucky ARE friends, especially not after he reiterated why you're both talking and helping eachother, but under Steve’s sincere gaze you can’t help the, “I’m glad too,” that slips from your lips. And you definitely don’t regret it when his smile widens.

“Ah, listen, I want to apologize about the other day,” he says, his cheeks red as he rubs the side of his neck and eyes drifting shyly off to the side. “I don’t usually open the door shirtless, but Bucky was hurrying me… and…”

Of course he was. God damn that Bucky! “No, no, it’s your home. You’re allowed to be comfortable. I’m sorry I was so awkward about it. I just--I have never seen that.” Steve’s eyes snap up in your direction and for a moment, you replay your words—have never seen that—what the hell is wrong with you? “I mean, I have. I definitely have seen a shirtless man before. Who hasn’t? I meant to say I have never seen you—you know what? I’m just going to shut up now.”

He blinks slowly and without warning he lets out a loud laugh that takes you off guard, but it fills your chest with warmth. You recognize this laugh; it’s his genuine laugh. The one that makes him throw his head back, hand clutching his chest, and laugh without any inhibitions. And you caused it. You.

You can’t help but chuckle along with him.

And when Steve finally calms down, he glances down at you with crescent eyes and a genuine smile. “You’re cute.”

Heat crawls to your neck and you can’t believe it’s possible to even get this hot and embarrassed. “Thank you?” you squeak.

This is good right? Steve across from you, drink in his hand and smiling down at you as if you’re the only people in the room. And you might as well be, because the music sounds so distant and Pietro’s laughter is muffled.

This is your chance.

This is where you put a hand on his shoulder; lean into his space a little and flash him your doe eyes that Bucky mentioned. This is it! This is where you hint at your feelings, this is—

“Steve!”

Damn it, Sam!

“Look who I found!”

The smile on his face drops and you can't help the way your body jerks when he mumbles the name, “Sharon,” so breathless.

You’re no longer the only two people in the room. The world spins and tilts, and it moves faster than you thought possible—all noise and music coming back to life and deafening you as Steve doesn’t spare you a glance to walk towards the beautiful blonde with kind brown eyes smiling at him.

You push through the crowd, needing to get away from whatever the fuck is going on inside. Steve barely even glanced at you after Sharon had appeared, which shouldn’t be surprising, really. His ex-girlfriend is beautiful and the two didn’t exactly break up on bad terms. They had decided that while she studied abroad at Cambridge for the year, it would be best for them to break up.

So really, you should’ve known that the moment she would showed up, you wouldn’t have a chance.

Not like you had a chance before. But you had hoped with all of your heart that maybe you could have a chance.

You were wrong. Bucky was wrong.

The fresh, cool air hits you as soon as you’re out on the front porch, and you release an exhale.

“Tough night, gorgeous?”

Your eyes snap to Tony, who sits on one of the porch chairs, legs kicked up on the small rounded table, and a cigarette in his hands. “You could say that.”

Tony puts out the cigarette by smashing the tip into the ashtray by his feet.

“Why aren’t you inside playing host?”

A smirk lifts his lips. “Taking a break. Hosting is a lot of work.”

You snort. “I’m sure.”

“Why aren’t you inside?” You shrug and watch as he stands up and moves to the chair over, pointedly looking at the now empty one as if inviting you to sit with him. You do. “Saw you getting chummy with Steve earlier. Didn’t know you had it in you, gorgeous. Bucky and Steve?”

You freeze, eyes widening as you sputter. “What? Bucky and I are just friends and Steve… Steve… is just a friend too.”

He chuckles. “So not gaga over Buckaroo, but definitely deep in the feels for golden boy. Got it.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Sure it isn’t.” He grins, but there’s no malice in his teasing and for some strange reason, you don’t mind it.

The music is muffled, even with the loud volume it’s set on. But you can make out Ariana Grande’s voice as she sings thank u, next.

“So, were you rejected by golden boy? Is that why you’re out here?”

“Rejected would imply I had a chance.”

“Why wouldn’t you have a chance?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“Sharon.”

“Ah, the ex girlfriend.” He tilts his head back against the headrest. “Is she back? I heard she was back. But you know how rumors are.” Is he alluding to himself?

You watch him and he all does is lift his lips into a smirk that has you shaking your head. Best not to dwell on it. Turning away from him to pull out your phone, you notice you have messages from Bucky and Pietro, but you don’t read either of them, instead going into the Uber app to get a ride home. “Guess so.”

He leans closer to you, peeking at your screen for a second before pulling back. “Ordering yourself a ride?”

You nod, watching as the screen changes when you confirm the addresses and the arrival time and map show up. In a couple of mins you’ll be on your way home. Thank god. “Yeah. I’m just—I’m just really tired.”

“Mind if I come with you?” he jokes, lopsided grin in his face.

You put your phone away once your ride is confirmed and find him no longer staring at you, but instead watching the empty streets, the occasional night drifter passing by. “For someone who likes throwing parties, you don’t seem to like being in yours.”

He chuckles. “Would you believe me if I told you I get tired?”

“Why throw them?”

He shrugs, but doesn’t answer and again, you don’t push him to either. You barely know him, and you have a feeling he’s told you more than he’s told anyone else in one seating.

“Okay,” you murmur and his eyes flicker in your direction before nodding and returning his gaze to the streets.

The two of you remain that way until your uber comes to pick you up. He walks you to the car door and opens the door for you, wishing you a goodnight and waiting until you’re far enough to head back inside.

Tony is an enigma, isn’t he? Everyone thinks they have him figured out, but you’re not so sure Tony even knows who he is himself.

Does Bucky?

You’re about ready to drop dead on your feet as you push open the front door and flick on the light to your apartment, your phone in hand as you mindlessly reading Pietro’s “where’d you go?” text. Honestly, you have half a mind to drop yourself on the sofa instead of your bed, even if your bedroom is only a few steps away from the sofa.

Just as you’re about to close the door behind you and are about to click on your text message thread with Bucky, the creaking of wooden flooring meets your ears and your eyes whip up, finding an unfamiliar woman standing next to your dining table with a hesitant smile and wide, green eyes.

“Who the fuck are you?”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #reader insert #reader imagine #marvel imagine #unrequited series

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wienerbarnes · 5 years ago

Text

Breathe Deeper

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 2,324

Prompt: “Why is it always murder and mayhem with you? Don’t you ever just do normal person things? Eat a sandwich? Brush your teeth? Do you even brush your teeth?” (from a random prompt generator)

Warnings: murder, violence, staging a suicide, ~feelings~

A/N: cafe bustelo does wonders for you at 1 am anyway ive been trying to finish this for like two months. have a couple more ideas for these two but feel free to send me any ideas or requests and ill do em if the inspo strikes! also title is purely the song im listening to as i type this out and has no correlation to the story LOL but hey if yall like tame impala enjoy

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

A single pop is heard as a bullet flies out of your gun into the head of the old man who opened the door.

“Christ! No build up?! No tension?! No confirmation that it’s even him?!” Bucky yells as he wiggles his ear to rid the ringing from it.

You brush past Bucky and slide the gun back into the holster strapped to your thigh. You step over behind whatever his name was, Bucky’s having trouble remembering after that blow to his eardrum, and hook your hands under his arms in order to drag him back into the empty house.

“Why is it always murder and mayhem with you? Don’t you ever just do normal person things? Eat a sandwich? Brush your teeth? Do you even brush your teeth?” Bucky questions you as he closes the door behind him, stepping in between splatters of blood.

“Nope, gotta leave leftovers for the bugs that live in my mouth.”

“That’s gross.”

“Shut up, help me lug this guy to the bedroom.”

The two of you are in a small town in Northern Oklahoma on the property of one of your ex-Hydra handlers. After a few days of researching, the two of you were able to figure out where he moved to and what he changed his name to after retiring from his prior lifestyle.

“I knew it was him from the second I saw him. You never forget.” You explain to him, both of you positioning his body in the corner of the room.

“You go clean up the entryway, I’ll finish staging over here.” Bucky offers it to you. He takes out his own gun from his own waistband and fires a single shot through the same hole you put in between the guy’s eyes. The splatter that explodes on the walls behind him are perfect, artistic almost. Bucky then starts looking around the room; in the closet, under the bed, until he reaches the night stand where a pretty little pistol lays. Not the same gun as his, but he has a feeling the police system in such a small and unpopulated town won’t bother to investigate this death as a murder as opposed to the obvious suicide that took place.

Bucky notices the small skull and octopus stamped into the side of the gun as he places it in his hands. He rolls his eyes before making his way back over to the entryway where you’re sat on the ground, scrubbing away with a rag in your hands and a bottle of bleach next to you.

Bucky walks over and takes a seat on the loveseat positioned a few feet away from where you are.

“So, where we heading after this?” Bucky asks you, leaning forward and resting his elbow on the arm of the seat.

“Back to New York? You probably gonna be busy working on that murder case.” You glance at him confused before going back to scrubbing.

Bucky pauses before speaking again, “How do you know about that?”

“I… keep up with my fair share of news.”

“You don’t pay for newspapers nor do you have a TV or a phone; you don’t have news. Besides, we haven’t released any information to the public about anything before we get more leads. So, how do you know about that?” Bucky stares at you, eyebrows pinched a bit in the middle as he awaits your answer.

“Do you wanna stop and get some pie on the way back?”

“No. Did you see something about the murders?” Bucky ignores your attempt at changing the subject.

“You just said you haven’t released anything-”

“I don’t mean on the news, I mean in that empty head of yours.” He teases.

You sigh, “I hate when you ask me about my… head.”

“Well, you could be helping here! You can try and be good!”

“I’m sitting on the floor scrubbing an old guy’s blood out of the wood of his own house after I’ve just blown his brains out.”

“Yeah, a bad old guy!”

You get off the last of the specks of blood before standing up and screwing the cap back onto the bottle of bleach. “I didn’t even see anything about the killer, anyway.”

“So, what did you see?”

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Fetch me a bone here, doll.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’d like that, dog.”

He grabs the bleach and rag from your fingers to free up your hands from carrying anything. Tingles travel up the tips of your fingers and flow up through your wrist into your chest. You glance up and make eye contact with Bucky and the dramatic puppy eyes and pouty lips he’s throwing your way.

You stare for a few more seconds before looking away, “Check that huge pond in Central Park tomorrow. His next victim will be floating there.” You satisfy him before turning and making your way back outside and to the car the two of you took on your little road trip.

While walking back to the parked car, Bucky quickly rushes in front of you and grasps the handle before you can reach it, allowing you to get in the car while he holds it open for you. He throws you an innocent looking smile, a smile coming from a person who surely didn’t just stage a suicide. You bite back your own smile before taking a seat and letting Bucky close the door behind you.

…

When you open your eyes after your nap, it's dark outside the moving car. You slowly lift your head up off the car window and glance over at Bucky, who you now realize is on the phone with someone.

“I told you, it was a weird anonymous number, Sam. I don’t know where it came from.” Bucky speaks softly on the phone before turning his head to look at you in your sleepy state.

“All they said was to check the pond in Central Park tomorrow. I know it’s sketchy, but we don’t have any other leads anyway, we might as well try it.”

“We sounds like a lot of people, ain’t you say that to me one time? Not all of us are on vacation, you know.” You hear another deep voice through the tiny speaker of the phone against Bucky’s ear.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll be back the day after tomorrow, man.”

Bucky wraps up his conversation as you process what you’ve heard. Bucky has lied, again, to the government, to Captain America, in order to protect you and your existence.

“How’d you sleep?” He asks before your thoughts can get too far from you.

“Fine. We’re already heading back to New York?”

“We’re stopping at a motel for the night, but after tomorrow’s drive, we’ll get there by sundown.”

You sit up proper and stretch your legs as far out in front of you as you can, the bones crunching and popping in relief at the new position. Bucky cringes next to you. He glances at you and watches you pick at the crust gathered at the corners of your eyes, a yawn escaping you along with the last of your grogginess.

Bucky doesn’t know how he’d fully express it to you, but he’s so happy to see the person you’re growing into. Everyday a little bit more of your personality, your mannerisms, your weirdness, your humor, your ideas; everything about the real you, shows more and more. He sees this beautiful woman who, maybe a year and some ago, was walking the line of death and now sits beside him with neon green nail polish and mismatched socks and cute flower earrings adorning the curve of your ear. He stares at the tattoo on your neck, that angry red face with large eyebrows and wonders whether or not that was your idea or not. He wonders if you have any other tattoos hidden among the space of your skin, he doesn’t remember seeing any along your sides or stomach that nightmare of a night in his apartment-

“You’re swervin’.”

Bucky clears his throat and snaps his head forward, fixing the car to drive straight on the road. Soon, he sees the promising sign, “Motel in 10 Miles,” and the two of you park in the small lot of the light orange building.

The inside smells of old people, an aged scent that isn’t necessarily bad, but makes you scrunch your nose nonetheless. No bugs in clear sight and the roof is still intact, so it should be suitable for a night of rest.

“We only have rooms available on the first floor for tonight, I’m assuming you’ll want one bed?”

Bucky's throat goes dry for a second, “Yes, that’s fine.” He doesn’t want to consult you as you look far off out the front window of the lobby, back turned to the young woman at the front desk. No matter how small a town in whatever state there is at this point in their journey, there is no risking anyone recognizing you, even if your search mission has been deemed unsolved.

A plastic card is slid into Bucky’s right hand and he begins making his way back outside and down the walkway towards their room for the night. You follow him silently.

“I call showering first, I think there’s small clumps of blood still stuck in my hair.” You tell him, flinging your backpack onto the bed, and pulling out a large sweatshirt and panties and taking them into the bathroom with you.

While the water begins to run, Bucky undoes the blankets, looks thoroughly through the pillows and in between the sheets in search of bed bugs. Next, inspecting the lamps, outlets, and anything else that could possibly hide a camera, microphone, or any other device. He even contemplates tearing apart the carpet under his feet, but decides against the extra work. He places your bag along with his own backpack on the small table in the corner of the room and fixes the bed to not look like he tore it apart recklessly. I wonder what side she prefers-

The bathroom door opens and a cloud of steam flows out, you soon emerge with a towel wrapped around your head, large sweatshirt hanging off your frame and bare feet digging into the soft carpet beneath you. You fling the towel off of your head using momentum from throwing your head and neck forward, the towel landing on the floor in front of you and your wet hair sending a light spray Bucky feels on his warm face.

By the time Bucky finishes with his shower, the room resembles a sauna and his metal arm has gone hot. A long sleeved shirt and cotton shorts are slipped onto his body along with a pair of thick socks to keep him warm at all times. He steps out of the bathroom, using his towel to rub through his hair, and he spots you using the small mirror on the wall.

Your legs are on display and your underwear is in sight. Bright pink with WEDNESDAY printed on the behind in bubble letters, it’s Friday, the bottoms of your butt cheeks hanging out the bottom of the fabric. The cotton hugs your body and Bucky can’t help but blush at the sight. His mother would smack him over the head if she were here right now.

Your shirt is lifted, one of your hands holding it high on your chest where Bucky can see a slip of under your breast peeking, the curve intriguing him. Your other hand is occupied rubbing a colorless liquid along your side, Bucky focuses his attention and realizes your rubbing along the scar he left you from your stitches. The bottle on the table has a label that read Vitamin E Natural Oil.

Your fingers seem unbelievably soft and gentle as he watches them glide along your side, massaging the shiny oil into your smooth skin. You drop your sweatshirt and gather a bit more oil on your hands before rubbing it into your hips where Bucky can see the faintest stretch marks.

“Sorry ‘bout the scar. O-on your side, I mean.” Bucky stutters out, convincing himself that his body is warm from the shower he took.

“It probably saved my life, so I can’t say I’m sorry about it.” You respond without turning around, as though you knew he was there watching you lather yourself in oil like the beginning of a softcore porn but didn’t mind him enjoying the show.

“What’s that stuff for, anyways?” Bucky asks as he gathers his old clothes back into his bag, folding each piece before placing the packed bag next to yours on the table. Your bag that clearly does not have folded clothes, only crinkled ones. Bucky empties your bag and folds your clothes for you before neatly packing it and closing the zippers.

“Helps fade scars.”

“Yeah, but why? Scars are cool.”

“I suppose. I’d still like to lighten them a bit. So they look better, prettier.”

“You’re probably the most beautiful woman I’ve seen in the last few decades.”

“You don’t even remember most of the last few decades,” You try to joke.

“I mean it. It’s a compliment. It’s okay to accept and enjoy compliments, doll.” Bucky looks at you, forcing you to meet his eyes. You see in your peripheries as he puts the cap on the bottle of oil and places it next to your bag. A small smile adorns his face as he looks at you, and you can’t help but feel a knot form in your throat.

It’s been a long while since you’ve received any kind of love, whether that be physical, emotional, mental, or self. It’s an overwhelming feeling when someone who you aren’t actually the closest with gives you such a deep and personal compliment.

Aren’t the closest with- this is your only friend he the only person you even know. The point is, being the most beautiful woman of the century is much different than having pretty hair or a good sense of humor.

You look away from him before the small bit of wetness can gather in your waterline.

“Which side of the bed do you prefer?” Bucky whispers softly to you, as to not break the safe atmosphere created by his sweet comment.

You clear your throat that now feels thick with tar, “The right.”

“Good. I prefer the left.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #~gasp~ and there was only one bed #series #oneshot

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ad1thi · 4 years ago

Text

just friends (?) p4

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 || also on ao3

- its finally done!! im still thinking of doing an epilogue, and a companion piece w Tony’s perspective; but that’s probably going to have to wait until after AU-gust. major s/o to @iam93percentstardust and @/lilacqueen for looking over this, i wouldn’t have been able to post this without you guys

Despite what Steve told Sam, he couldn’t get his words out of his head. His answer might surprise you, Sam had said last week, and it ruminates in Steve’s head - refusing to let him go. Steve might not be the best judge of character, but he’d like to think that he can recognise attraction, especially when he’s the object of said affection. Could he really have - no there’s no way.

(Right?)

‘No it’s impossible’, Steve thinks to himself, fists pounding at the bag in front of him, as if punching it hard enough will make these words leave him alone, ‘I’ve been friends with Tony for 5 years, I would’ve known.’

Steve knows what attraction looks like for Tony, he knows it intimately and deeply, he watched it directed at every person who made Tony’s head turn, he saw it in every relationship that Tony pursued, he recognised it in every look of long lost fondness, and it was never directed at him.

Hell, Steve had been instrumental in some of those relationships himself, deluding himself in the belief that if he saw Tony with someone else it would somehow help him get over his own feelings and finally move on.

Sam just doesn’t know what he’s talking about, Steve thinks resolutely, collapsing onto the floor of the gym in exhaustion, one hand half-heartedly extended to still the bag, He doesn’t know what attraction looks like for Tony.

Steve wasn’t sure of a lot, but he was absolutely sure that Tony had never shown him any sort of affection. It wouldn’t do him good to dwell on Sam’s words - because he’d meant what he said, he’d rather have Tony part-time than none at all, and wondering about impossibilities is what ruined their friendship in the first place.

No, Steve had to make a concentrated and forceful effort to dull his feelings, or at the very least bury them so far down that nobody could reach them, if he wanted any chance of making his friendship with Tony work. He lays on the floor of the gym for a couple more minutes, trying to catch his breath - before ignoring his screaming muscles so he can stand up. He pulls up the end of his tank so that he can wipe off the sweat that’s collected on his brows, and just as he’s pulling it back down and adjusting it - he catches the receptionist giving him an appreciative once over from the corner of his eye.

Huh, he thinks, looking around for his water-bottle so that he can take a large sip (and also pour some on himself to cool down, Interesting.

It’s been an age since Steve has flirted with someone, but it doesn’t mean he’s forgotten how. He isn’t vain by any means, but he knows that he isn’t ugly, and that if he tried he might actually have an active love life - or at the very least, an active sex life. He just hasn't wanted to. Not since Tony, his traitorous mind supplies, and even now - just thinking of hitting on someone else feels like he’s cheating on Tony.

But he and Tony aren’t more than friends, and if he’s serious about moving on - then he needs to go all in. You have to run before you walk and all that jazz, he thinks to himself grimly, grits his teeth and puts on his most winning smile when he reaches the front desk.

“Hey,” he says as he passes over his member-card, tilting his head and smiling warmly at the receptionist, “I’m Steve.” Predictably, she blushes, and says, “I’m Sharon,” as she passes his card back, “looks like you had a good workout back there.”

“Oh that?” he instills fake nonchalance into his voice, “That’s just an off day for me.” This can go one of two days - either she’ll wrinkle her nose at his obvious brag, or she’ll giggle.

She giggles, and even though Steve isn’t attracted to her at all (he doesn’t think he knows how to be attracted to anyone but Tony anymore), he still preens internally, because after all his time, he’s still got it. They chat for a couple more minutes, and Sharon works in asking for his number before he can get around to it. Steve scribbles it on the closest scrap piece of paper that he finds, before waving goodbye and making his way out.

He’s out of the building and about to turn the corner when his phone buzzes. He pulls it out to see a text from Sharon:

>> Sharon: free on Wednesday for a coffee?? X

His instinctive reaction is to say no, because Wednesday is his day with Tony, but then he remembers his newfound resolution to move on from Tony and pauses. Cancelling on friends for a date, that’s a normal thing right? Steve is almost certain it is. All in, Steve thinks to himself again, fingers hovering over his keyboard.

>> Steve: works for me!!

The entire way home, he vehemently tries to ignore the growing pit in his stomach.

(He fails)

Steve’s in the middle of debating whether a button up is too much for a coffee date or whether Sharon will appreciate that he’s made an effort when his bell rings. And then rings again. And again. And then he hears fists on his door.

“What the fuck?” he mutters under his breath, grabbing the closest vee and pulling it over his head as he makes his way over to the door, yelling “I’m coming!!” when the knocking gets more incessant.

He opens the door and he barely has any time to digest the fact that it’s Tony at the door before Tony pushes past him in a huge motion of flurry and stops in the middle of his living room, spinning on his heel and pointing a finger at him.

“You - !” is all he gets out before he lets out an incoherent scream, and Steve says, “Come in,” dumbly because his mind is still trying to process the fact that Tony is here, in his house, 20 minutes before he’s supposed to go on a date.

Steve knows that that’s supposed to mean something, but right now his mind is hyper-focused on the fact that Tony is here. Meanwhile, Tony seems to have regained use of his mouth because he’s clearly yelling at Steve.

“ - because Rhodey says I’m supposed to be using my words, so this is me trying to use my words. What do you mean ‘you have a date?” he asks furiously, pointing at his phone aggressively, “What does that mean?” “I uh,” Steve fumbles his words, “the girl at my gym asked me out a couple days ago. Asked to meet for coffee. I said yes.” “I know what a date is Steven,” Tony stresses his name, “I’m just trying to understand what you’re doing going on one.” Tony looks crestfallen all of a sudden, and for the life of him, Steve can’t figure out why, “I thought we -” he gestures half-heartedly between them, “Did I misread everything again?”

Something akin to hope starts growing inside Steve, and he blames the fact that his entire world view is changing on the fact that he almost misses Tony’s words.

Almost.

“What do you mean again?” Steve asks slowly, carefully, “We’re friends. We’ve always been friends. That’s all we’ve ever been. Just friends.” “Is that really what you think?” Tony asks, and his voice sounds wretched, “That we’ve only ever been friends. Have I truly never been more to you?” His answer might surprise you, Sam’s words come back to him, unbidden, and suddenly Steve feels like his whole heart is in his throat.

“Tony,” he says softly, deliberately, because if this goes wrong he doesn’t know what he’ll do with himself, “Tony I’ve been in love with you for close to five years. It was never my decision for us to stay friends. That was always yours.” “Five yea - you never gave me any indication that you wanted more!!” Tony’s face is red, and his hands are running through his hair and leaving it messy and spiky. “How could I?” Steve asks helplessly, “you always belonged to someone else.”

He shrugs, eyes falling to his feet “I never thought it was my place. Hell Tony, you fell in love with my bestfriend, what was I supposed to do - pull you aside and tell you to leave him for me? I couldn’t do that to Buck, or you.”

“No!” Tony points at him threateningly, “no you do not get to put Bucky on me. You all but begged Bucky to get back together with me, he showed up at my door talking this and that about you told him that we were ‘fated to be together’. How else was I supposed to take that apart from proof that you didn’t want me?” Tony starts listing names off his fingers. “Rumiko, Ty, hell you even convinced me to get back together with Sunset, saying shit about ‘Oh Tony you’ve just misunderstood her’ and ‘She just wants another chance’.” “I just wanted you to be happy,” Steve says in a small voice, “Even if it wasn’t with me.”

Tony takes in a deep breath, and it’s like all the fight leaves him as he exhales. “5 years?” he asks, and Steve doesn’t think he’s making up the wonder in Tony’s voice. When he looks up, Tony is close enough that they could be sharing the same breath, “I could’ve had you for 5 years?”

Steve’s breath catches in his throat, “You mean -?”

“Have you not been listening? I love you too, you absolute dumbass.”

Steve’s wanted to hear those words for so long, but now that he finally has - he doesn’t know what to do. Fortunately, Tony has no such qualms, and leans up on his toes, to press a feather-light kiss on his lips.

“I love you too Steve,” he says again softly, against his lips, and Steve lifts an arm to cup his face, thumb carefully rubbing against his cheek.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that,” Steve says, “It feels like I’m dreaming.”

“Well now that you have,” Tony says cheekily, “What’re you going to do about it?”

Steve doesn’t reply, just leans down ever so slightly and seals their lips together, feeling the knot in his stomach unfurl and unwind, until there’s nothing left in him but happiness. He kisses and kisses and kisses until he’s walked Tony backwards against a wall and he’s got a thigh in between his legs. He kisses until he’s left a map of bruises against his neck and Tony’s skin is flushed red. He kisses until he can’t kiss any more - because he doesn’t know what he’s going to do now that he has Tony in his arms; but he knows with singular focus that he’s never going to let him go.

Fin.

taglist: @honeybearrhodey, @rogers-stark45, @tried-our-best, @kirouskasa, @fincaffeinaddict, @endlesslove1084, @imaginestevetony, @illegalchandler, @poughkeepsies, @scarletluvscas, @thewondersoflebanon, @kylizzles, @medio-melon, @moon6shadow-main , @benjamin-solos, @dauntlessdiva, @capnstarkey, @geraderlopoly, @xarawnsamaax, @angelmydear, @theavengays, @imposter-human, @tonystarkisanangel, @littlemissstark , @allthingsmarvel100 , @endrega23 , @riotfalling , @spiderrpcrker, @rxmanoff , @firebrands , @omg-just-peachy, @iam93percentstardust, @dreamsofg0ld, @thxngam, @krzyktty101, @velvetjane, @rebel13lion39, @superhusbands-superfan

#my writing #stevetony #superhusbands #steve rogers/tony stark #steve x tony #steve rogers x tony stark #just friends AU #they're finally together!!#its done!!#i can't believe its done #i never thought i would ever finish a multi chapter but here we are!!#okay this is pretty surreal for me #i can't believe i actually finished it thats insane #im so proud of myself #if i do write a companion piece in tony's perspective it would be a kofi challenge #so you guys would have control over what you wanted to see and stuff #so let me know what you think!!#send me an ask or smth and i'll get to it after AU-gust i promise

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a-libra-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Imagine Dating the GoT Characters in Modern Times

okay im still working on that confession request, but this sucker just got away from me lol. couldnt help meself. this is a bit more casual than the others

if i missed any of ya favs, send my ask box a mail pigeon and ill add em!

In this preference, you'll be dating: Ned Stark, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Benjen Stark, Jory Cassel, Dolorous Edd, Tormund Giantsbane, Theon Greyjoy, Yara Greyjoy, Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont, Missandei, Grey Worm, Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Jamie Lannister, Sandor Clegane, Bronn, Petyr Baelish, Stannis Baratheon, Davos Seaworth, Margaery Tyrell, Brynden Tully, Edmure Tully, Brienne of Tarth, Ramsay Bolton, Roose Bolton, Oberyn Martell, Beric Dondarrion

NED STARK

He always worries so much after you, like if you’re unusually late getting home or you don’t call him back for some time. He won’t bother you about it because knows he worries, and he’s always ready to give you a warm hug when you finally get home. He’s very considerate of how you like things in the home and will fix anything immediately - although, you’re convinced he’s going to drop the AC in a lake if it acts up one more time. He has a picture of your wedding day that he absolutely loves and keeps in a safe spot in his wallet. The same picture is in frame on his desk, along with pictures of the kids. It’s the only decorations he has on the desk.

ROBB STARK

He’s convinced Grey Wind is starting to like you more because you’re the one who gives the goodnight treats. His favorite memories are the times when you both were able to get away to the lake or beach for a few days; he has a picture of you both on his desk at work. If you get him something you’d think he’d like, such as a scarf, he’ll absolutely wear it until it falls apart. Before you two moved in together, he really enjoyed calling you in the evening to hear about your day. Before you started dating, he’d send you pics of Grey Wind because you had the cutest reactions to them - soooo many emojis.

SANSA STARK

She loooves trying new things and hobbies with you, even if it doesn’t always end up so hot. The baking fiasco of 2018 shall not be spoken of, the pictures have been erased, it didn’t happen. She likes doing your make-up if you’ll let her, and she loves it when you two clothes shop together, mostly so she can dress you up. Lady is the most spoiled princess in the Stark family; you and Sansa have an instagram for her, she has her own rhinestone collar and custom bowl, it’s a whole thing. Sansa likes to brush her in the evening while she listens to you about your day or you both catch up with your fav TV shows. You two are way too invested in some of them and sometimes you stay up too late angry tweeting about it.

JON SNOW

You two were mutual friends for a while before you started hanging out exclusively more and more and finally someone asked if you were dating... At that point, you basically were. He really likes going hiking in the woods with you and Ghost, and some of his favorite pictures of you are from these trips - obvs they’re his phone background, and he gets shy if someone looks over his shoulder and asks if you’re his girlfriend. You both have gotten Ghost a nice dog bed and couch but he still likes to sleep at the foot of the bed, then promptly wake you both up at 6am for a walk. Jon was nervous but excited to introduce you to his family; he enjoys holidays with them much more because of you. He loves it when you text him cute things about your day or say you miss him.

BENJEN STARK

He caught your attention when you two began casually dating and he absolutely lit up when he talked about his nieces and nephews, and he showed you lots of pictures. It was just so cute. He absolutely loves it when you wear his shirts, especially the morning after - he will pull you back into the bed. He’s a total night owl but is very considerate of being quiet when you’re asleep. If you end up falling asleep after trying to stay up with him, he’ll carefully carry you back to bed. He works evenings too, so when he comes home early in the morning, he’ll cook you breakfast before staggering to bed (obviously he wants a good morning/night kiss as you get up and get ready).

JORY CASSEL

He’s an absolute sweetheart who will adopt all the dogs and fill up the house with them if you don’t stop him. When he’s playing with them or holding them, you like to take sneaky pictures because it’s just so cute and set it as your phone background. He always has the sweetest compliments for you, regardless if you’re dressing up or you just got out of the shower. The easiest way to fluster him is throw your legs over his lap while you’re wearing shorts or a skirt and just casually snuggle up. One day one of your dogs got out and you two were so beside yourself with worry, calling all the shelters and making posters and just stressing out together. The pup showed up a few hours later covered in mud and you both ran to hug her at the same time.

EDD TOLLETT

You’d actually been hanging out with him for a while because of your mutual friends, mostly Jon. You two had such an obvious crush on each other but wouldn’t make a move, so he and Sam did the trick where they invited you both out, then made an excuse and left you two alone. He’s the master of sending a meme in response to a text you sent two hours ago. He won’t admit how much he really likes it when you wear his shirts, either to bed or out on a date. They’re almost exclusively black metal band shirts with really weird art. You both tend to go to a lot of outdoor music festivals; he always wants to hold your hand so he doesn’t lose you in a crowd.

TORMUND GIANTSBANE

His beard and hair are still wild, don’t you worry, and he’s endlessly amused when it tickles you when he kisses you. His clothes are kind of a mess so you always try to straighten them out or iron them, which he really appreciates. Whenever he sees something cool, he has to immediately take a picture and send it to you. Sometimes he’s too excited about something, he just calls you or comes over. He’d totally want to go to nature reserves, zoos and parks for dates; he loves being outdoors and thinks you look best when the sunlight is on you. He’ll take so many pics on these dates but he’s a pretty bad cameraman (he tries!). He’ll go for the tallest rollercoaster at an amusement park and immediately regret it once the drop starts; he’s secretly relieved if you don’t want to go on one.

THEON GREYJOY

Let’s be honest, he’s kind of a fuckboy so you don’t date him too seriously. He’s the one who gets attached first and starts exclusively dating you. He really likes collecting guitars and would be stoked if you’d play or sing along with him. He prefers outdoor dates, but sports bars and music clubs are fun, too. No matter what, he’d be giving lots of PDA and wouldn’t take kindly to guys hitting on you. He always finds the most bizarre food or drink recipes online that he wants to try, usually resulting in your kitchen being a warzone afterward. Yara totally bullies him on his insta, no matter how much he blocks her.

YARA GREYJOY

She’s the definition of the types of girls your parents really didn’t want you to bring home but Here We Are. She has the most badass boots that she wears with an eyeliner with a wing so sharp it could kill a man. She loves pulling you close and being touchy with you in bars and clubs, especially when men are bothering you. Her diet 80% microwave so you have to cook actual food for her and make sure she eats. Family gatherings or phone calls always bother her, so you have to help calm her down afterward, usually with lots of making out. She’d like you to go with her when she gets tattoos so she has someone to chat and laugh with, and she’d subtly suggest you’d look cute with a piercing. She’ll kill the bugs in the relationship as long as you give her a thank you kiss, no matter what you’re in the middle of.

DAENERYS TARGARYEN

She absolutely LOVES Christmastime and wants to decorate the whole house, send a Christmas card with you and her three bearded dragons and wear matching Christmas sweaters (she can be surprisingly stubborn about that). Cuddling on the sofa and watching movies usually ends her falling asleep on you, and if you try to move her she grumbles and hugs you closer. The background for her phone is you looking very worried, holding her three bearded dragons after she posed them on you. She’d much rather wear your hoodies and shirts than her own, sometimes only that if she’s lounging at home with you. She tries to plan a really nice date at least once a month, preferably you two going on a little weekend trip to a musical festival or a beach.

JORAH MORMONT

He texts he loves you at least twice throughout the day. When you go out on dates, he’s always worried if you need a jacket or if you’ve had enough to eat. Heel is digging into your ankle and giving you a blister? This guy has band-aids. When he gets home early, he likes to cook a quick dinner that’ll be ready when you’re home. Watching kdramas with Jorah is great because he gets so baffled and ask you if this is what kids watch nowadays, but then he gets surprisingly emotional over the big confessions and love triangles. Walking through a park or boardwalk at sunset while holding your hand is maximum serotonin for him.

MISSANDEI

Her absolute favorite part of the day is the chat you two have in the evening while you take off make-up, wash your faces and fix your hair before bed. Sometimes you talk about your day, sometimes you listen to music or have a show on. She really doesn’t like phones or laptops in bed because she just wants to cuddle or be intimate. You introduced her to theme parks, and now she absolutely loves them. Missandei will find the biggest coaster and pull you toward it, she also would like you to win her one of those stuffed animals at the shooting games. She’ll put them on a shelf in your room. Sometimes she reads a book that bothers her so much, she has to stop everything, march in the living room and tell you all about it.

GREY WORM

You asked him out by writing your number on his cup at the cafe you worked out. You never got a text or call, but he suddenly showed up a few days later, totally blushing and asking you out. It was kind of adorable. He really likes keeping the apartment tidy and totally loves your baking. You didn’t think he had a sweet tooth, and he's been trying out different recipes to share with you. He can be pretty shy around your friends, so you hang with him solo. He has surprisingly strong opinions on movies, so movie dates always spiral into film theory discussions. He's so baffled by social media but he follows and likes everything you because your posts and pics are cute.

TYWIN LANNISTER

You two met at your company’s expensive party, he interested you right away and you had fun flirting and trading verbal spars. You weren’t sure how he got your number, but he’d end up calling you up for dinners and dates and so on. That ended up turning into trips and long stays at his manor and basically you ended up living there. Tywin enjoys giving you all sorts of expensive gifts and clothes, which he of course doesn’t see as a big deal because you deserve it. Eventually you’d bother him about what you mean to him, and that’s when he’d just outright ask if you’d rather be married. Quite frankly, he doesn’t care about his children’s thoughts on the matter. He really prefers the dates and vacations that are more relaxing, especially when he gets to see you smile at something you haven’t seen.

TYRION LANNISTER

You and Tyrion discuss books like some people discuss politics. Actually, you both tend to have a lot of long discussions, but you both are so opinionated on books. He actually writes quite a bit and dedicates a lot of it to you. His favorite thing to do is make you laugh in public while you’re drinking something; he knows it drives you nuts and it’s adorable how much you sputter and look for a napkin. He blames you for Jamie’s love of ironic emojis, and he likes to send you screenshots of Cersei’s weird facebook rants. When he’s stressing over a writing deadline, he adores it when you give him a massage and help him calm down.

JAMIE LANNISTER

He’d often tease you about using so many cutest emojis in your text messages, so he started ironically using them. You’re positive he just picks them at random but he figured out that eggplant and peach REAL quick. When you first started dating, he tried to impress you with expensive gifts and dates, but he vastly prefers the lowkey cuddles at your apartment. His head in your lap, your pet curled around his legs and him reading off ridiculous shit Cersei posts on facebook … That’s the ideal. He was a nervous wreck when you met Tywin, although he was trying to play it off and be cool.

SANDOR CLEGANE

He’s such a grumpy bear that a lot of people wonder how the heck you two got together. You both like to hang out at music bars and clubs, and he’s always got a protective arm around you, and as the evening winds down he likes to nuzzle your hair and receive any kisses you give. He sleeps in really late and grumbles when you pull him out of bed to get his ass outside. He’ll always take care of the yard work and grills the best barbecue. He actually really likes when you ask him what he thinks about an outfit, even if he just says it’s fine, because he likes the way you twirl and show off your backside. There’s probably a football team he’s obsessed with and he WILL text you angrily about someone getting a red card or missing a goal.

BRONN

When you asked for his number, you were shook that he still had a goddamn flip phone. Even after dating for forever, he still has that damn thing. Your favorite date spot is live music bars, even if he starts to get overly affectionate and pull you in his lap. He has leather jackets and sometimes wears black cowboy boots with them and it just … works? He also probably rides a motorcycle but makes sure you have the proper clothes and helmet and actually obeys traffic laws when you’re riding with him. He’ll still flip off drivers, though. He doesn’t go to the doctor, his sick ass shows up on your doorstep half-dead and you force cold medicine down his throat while scolding him. He just likes being looked after, not that he’ll ever admit it.

PETYR BAELISH

You’re kind of surprised he asked you out, he seemed like a very wealthy, prominent person and you were a little worried. But on all your dates he’s nothing but a gentleman and he wants to go places you enjoy to know you better. Even if you both go somewhere more lowkey like a cafe or an art museum, he just has to impress you by picking you up in a nice car. He’s much more genuine in evenings at your apartment when you cuddle with him, or when you send sweet texts that he has trouble responding to right away because they’re just so nice. He likes to follow your social media just to see what you’re up to, and he has a picture of you on his desk, probably one where you’re wearing something he got you.

STANNIS BARATHEON

He’s on top of anything that needs to be fixed or dealt with around the house, sometimes without you even noticing they were broken. He’s very grateful when you plan dates for fun or for anniversaries, because he has trouble with such things. He also totally melts when you bring him coffee in the morning with a kiss, or take his coat when he comes home. Holidays are an absolute mess; last year he was THIS close to throttling Renly with a string of holly. You like changing his phone background to saucy pictures of yourself, because he already sucks at phones and now he’s bright red and it’s taking him five minutes to figure out how to change it. You were pretty bummed when he finally figured out how to set up a phone lock, so now you just text the pictures while he’s at home. It takes a few seconds before you hear him sputter and drop his phone in the other room.

DAVOS SEAWORTH

Admittedly, Davos is a little insecure about the age difference between you two, but he’s always very comforted when you hold his hand and kiss him in public. He always has interesting places to take you, and somehow he seems to know at least one person there. He always has a new story about how he lost his fingers and now it’s just an inside joke between you two. You think its hilarious how worked up he gets about his sports teams, and he cracks up when you yell at competitive cooking shows. Sometimes he needs your help deciphering Stannis’ weird, cryptic texts. He’s very weak when you’re dressing up to go out, especially when you slip on pantyhose and heels.

MARGAERY TYRELL

You didn’t realize how big of an influencer she was until she innocently asked for a selfie of the two of you. You were on a beach date and you kissed her cheek while she made a cute pose. Much later she showed you the pic on her instagram and holy shit is that’s 20k likes what in the seven hells. If it’s a sunny day, she absolutely wants to go out to the beach or an outdoor mall or anything. She likes to show you pics of outfits, ask your opinion, and buy it as a surprise if you really love it. If you both got a pet together, she’d basically treat it like your kid. She loves taking you with her on her family’s expensive vacations, and she can’t stop holding your hand and grinning the whole time.

BRYNDEN TULLY

Brynden is also worried about the age gap between you two, and it often bothers him when people mistake him for your father while you two are out. He loves talking about you to his nieces and nephew. He held off on telling his brother out of spite, because he knew Hoster was going to bug him about proposing. His favorite thing to do with you is go boating on the family’s lake, especially when you’re laughing as you try to keep your hat on. His absolute favorite picture is a selfie you took while you were in his lap, you’re making a silly face while he’s kissing your cheek.

EDMURE TULLY

He loves doing the silliest, most domestic stuff with you. Doing laundry together while joking around, picking out furniture to match in the living room, even adopting a dog or a kitten who would end up spoiled rotten. He’d actually fall for you quickly while you were dating and already think of your wedding and a family, but he wouldn’t want to pressure you at all. He has the worst bedhead and you have to grab him before he runs out to work and try to tame it. You both have the most ridiculous in-jokes and when you watch dramas, you both get way too emotionally invested and try not to cry in front of each other.

BRIENNE OF TARTH

She’s very shy about taking selfies with you until you encourage her and insist she’s adorable. She takes good care of her health and works out a lot, and she’s definitely want you to join her for the latter. She’s great with motivating and praising you! She likes dates where you two just wander around outdoor malls or museums, you just walk and chat about all sorts of things. You’re absolutely her phone background and lock screen, and when her dad calls to check on her she ends up talking about you a lot. You both like to put on cooking shows while you fold laundry or clean and you end up getting so distracted.

RAMSAY BOLTON

You weren’t totally keen on introducing him to your parents, then they suddenly came over while he was hanging out with you and he was such a Perfect Gentleman™ you almost got whiplash. He’s the reason stray dogs always hang around your backyard and porch, he leaves food out for them. He always frowns when you cover up his hickeys with concealer. He’s not the least bit phased by horror or slasher movies, but puts them on TV anyway so you can cling to him and hide your face. He’s absolutely the sort to threaten any male friends he thinks are too close to you, then play innocent when you confront him. He likes date spots that are a little more secluded, so he can grab your body and give you a deep kiss anytime he’s wanting you.

ROOSE BOLTON

In the morning, he always has to kiss you when he wakes up and before he leaves for work, no exceptions. He’s very private so those he works with are surprised to learn he’s married, but once you two are together at some company party it’s obvious he dotes on you. His kinks are even more pronounced now and he loves buying you things he wants to see you wear. He’d like to have a family with you once you’re ready. He’d be super into you sending him sexy pictures during the day, but he won’t respond right away or pretend the picture didn’t load just to mess with you.

OBERYN MARTELL

He looooves surprising you with thoughtful gifts, weekend trips or even just flowers sent to your work with a loveydovey note that has all your coworkers teasing you. He hangs around at your apartment so much, you wonder why he just doesn’t move in. He will absolutely love any flirty texts or sexy pictures you send him over the phone, and he’ll respond in kind. When your relationship started getting more serious, he introduced you to his family and daughters, and fell even more in love with you because you were so kind to everyone. He always wants to take you places because he thinks you’re the cutest when you’re amazed by new things.

BERIC DONDARRION

A mutual friend hooked you both up for a blind date, which bothered you a lot, but Beric was so nice, genuine and apologetic that you decided to go through with it anyway. You’re grateful you live in a cold climate because he looooves the fireplace and snuggling with you in front of it. He’s not the best at cooking and would appreciate you teaching him, also you look super cute in an apron so that’s a bonus. Expect a ton of different outdoors and camping trips from him, also he’s the worst about getting injured and insisting he’s fine, even when there’s blood all over the bathroom sink.

#game of thrones #got #asoiaf #game of thrones imagines #game of thrones x reader #these take soooo long to format #also i figured out tumblr just stops counting my character tags past 30 so thats cool

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