#its also such a nice thing to do? he could have had all that for just himself but he chose to share it with other antisocialites

[caxasy]

older bf!caleb who loves pampering you every change he gets, wanting to spoil you rotten. he does this through many gestures, anything to prove to you that he is willing to give you anything you could ever want.

this can look like him paying for a lot of your dates together. he absolutely detests the idea that you should ever put your card down for anything in his presence. he thinks its an insult to his capabilities of financially supporting you. another thing that he loves doing as an act of affection is cooking for you. takes it incredibly seriously and expects you to tell him whenever you’re hungry so he can prepare food for you.

i think the main difference between the headcanon of older bf caleb and younger bf caleb is that older bf caleb takes a lot more initiative in taking care of you, whereas younger caleb will still take care of you, duh, but also indulges a lot in you pampering him.

older bf!caleb has none of that around here. he wants to be that pillar of support you can always rely on. kind of unhealthy of him, to refuse to be the one taken care of unless you seriously force him to be, but when was caleb ever healthy in his relationship dynamics lets bffr (i love him to death guysplease)

since older bf!caleb does take spoiling you so seriously though that means that there is no room for anyone else in your life to do the same tings for you. he strictly forbids anyone else to ever pay for your things, provide food for you — whether it be someone else paying for your takeout or GOD FORBID actually bringing you a home cooked meal. he genuinely will not allow that to happen.

you made the mistake of telling him that a coworker of yours gave you lunch today, seeing as you forgot to bring the one caleb packed for you, and caleb nearly lost his mind.

“wasn’t that so kind of them? i mean, i would have done the same for them too, but it feels nice knowing that they care that much,” you smile, retelling the story to caleb, who was not even bothering to hide the pout on his face.

“you took this guy’s food?”

“no! he had a lot of extra, plus i was definitely telling him it was okay, but he kept insisting. i felt bad taking some of his food, for sure. i think i might treat him out to some take out our next shift because that was really nice of him,”

now you wanted to give this guy something in return? the next couple of thoughts racing through caleb’s mind was how this had the potential in becoming a never ending cycle and he resisted the urge of dropping his head in his hands in utter dismay.

“i’m sure it’s fine if you just said thank you, no?” caleb comments before shaking his head, not actually wanting to continue talking about this coworker of yours, “well, ignoring that fact for now, i need you to promise me you’ll call me if you ever need anything, okay? if you forget your lunch at home, call me and i’ll bring you it, okay?”

your eyebrows furrow together and he can already read your mind, “i don’t think that’s neccessary, baby. you’re already so busy, i don’t want to intrude,”

“please, you’re not intruding. i want you to call me, okay? i don’t like hearing about other people taking care of my boyfriend. you’re my boyfriend, i want to be the one giving you food whenever you’re hungry.” he sees you laugh softly at his declaration, but he just continues on staring at you in all seriousness, “hey, i mean it. promise me you’ll call me?”

“i promise, caleb,” you finally appease him, pecking his lips softly to seal the deal.

“don’t call me that,” he whines, leaning into you, pleading eyes looking into yours.

“i promise i’ll call for you, hyung,” you roll your eyes when you see him instantly brighten up. he’s seriously the only person you know that begs to hear that title be called to them so badly.

speaking of, he really hates when you call other guys that title. unless they’re your actual blood related older male figure in your life, he hates whenever you call someone else hyung. it’s something that shows comfortability, closeness, and a relationship between you and whoever you were calling that. even if it’s just a friendship, he hates the idea that you’re close enough with someone to say that so easily.

he wants to be the only hyung in your life. so don’t go calling other men that unlesss you want to see a serious crashout from caleb.

the time he brought it up to you, you thought he was joking. it was just a title, a word afterall, but no, caleb takes that shit very seriously.

“it’s like if you called someone else baby,” he defends, but you’re just looking at him like he’s crazy.

“how is that the same?”

“it is, [name], just please,” he begs by elongating the verb at the end of his word, his eyes pleading and desperate as he looks down at you.

“oh my god, get that look off of your face,” you swipe your hand down his face, smooshing hus features with your palm, but he only smiles and kisses your hand.

“so that’s a yes?”

“you’re clinically insane.”

“well…”

older bf!caleb is really protective of you, to a scary, meticulous degree. doesn’t let you lift a finger whenever you’re around him because 1. it’s part of his nature to spoil you and 2. what if you hurt yourself? he is well aware that you are a functioning, full grown man but still, he’d rather choke on a fizzy soda then hear even an inkling of pain come from you.

doesn’t let you chop vegetables for dinner, insists you just have to “sit there and look handsome” for him whenever you try to help.

will never let you open your own car door, or any door for that matter. you swear he can teleport with how fast he puts a car in park and is then standing outside of your door. teases you, calls it your prince-like attitude that makes him be at your beck and call like this, but really it’s just caleb’s desire to show up for you — show that you won’t even need to do something as simple as open a door when you’re with him because he’ll do it gladly.

screens everyone in your social and work circle, all without you knowing btw. he somehow obtains all their information; keeping mental notes of every single one. most of the things he remembers about them are very simple, but he remembers at least one thing for everybperson you interact with daily.

for example, he doesn’t know what department your one coworker that is, in his opinion — getting too close to you, from, but he does know that they have a 6-year old cat named nami and lives on the outskirts of the business district. does not have a clue on your one girl friends full maiden name, but he does know her favorite cafe, her order, and which barista she tips the most (tries brushing off the fact you have some similarities with said barista).

it’s very niche, miniuscule things that he remembers, but he remembers them all for good reason. their weaknesses if they ever cross you or him.

a very specific one: doesn’t let you pick up orders from the counter at cafes or restaurants? if you guys are eating out and they call for your or his name, he’s up before you can even blink. he’s waltzing over there and bringing back your food with a smile on his face. second nature for him to take care of you, yes, but what if you fell on the way to the counter? what if the barista forgot the cup sleeve and you accidentally burn your hand? he won’t allow it. so just sit down and wait there for him like a good boy so he doesn’t stress out so much.

loves having a physical claim on you. he’s a territorial freak and that’s probably the most immature thing about him (on the long list of immature things he does). refuses to let you leave the house without that promise ring on your finger, he’ll even slip it on for you so you won’t have to exert the effort in that!! won’t let you leave if you’re not carrying some part of him with you.

if he just comes with you, though, that’s even better! he loves hanging out with you, he’s a velcro-boyfriend. kind of hates the idea of you going out and doing stuff alone when you can just invite him? invites himself to a lot of your errand runs. will hang off of your body with no regard for public decency.

his broad shoulders trap and cage you in so you have no escape if you manage to get out of the death grip that are his muscular arms. the kind of guy to stand behind you, arms crossed over your front, weighing heavy on your figure just to remind you (and everyone around) that he’s there and he’s not going anywhere.

older bf!caleb might not know all the couple trends on social media (he only uses it to like your posts, send you cute animals videos, and other misc things all centered around you). but best believe he is down for whatever you tell him.

he loves the idea of you posting about your relationship with him, will watch the videos every night before he goes to sleep and hopes you never stop asking him. because what do you mean your relationship, him dating you!!!, is online for everyone to see? like potentially someone across the planet could know that you’re his and he’s yours. it’s a dream come true for him. loves comments that say how jealous they are of your relationship too, makes him giggle that it’s now very obviously known that you two belong with each other.

one of his favorites was that eye trend. an excuse to be cheek to cheek with you, show off his pretty eyes that you love so much while also staring at you? sign him up, he’ll do that shit everyday.

another fun one was the h.s.k.t. one. he loved the song, loved fact you two were wearing matching outfits, loved how cute you look. he loved it so much he threw you over his shoulder at the end of it and spun the two of you around while he playfully smacked your ass. the video ends with him grabbing your phone and walking with it filming you two as if you weren't thrown over his shoulder like a sack of rice.

he also loved the one where he got to just run into frame, pick you up, kiss you, and spin you two around multiple times. loved loved loved that one because if there’s anything caleb’s good at it, it’s proving how physically strong he is and how you weight just about the same as a feather to him. he also really liked how cute it ended up being, cuddled with you that night rewatching it over and over again. you swore you heard him giggle too.

“a boy who’s jacked and kind” oh, that’s got him written all over it!!! no matter if you’re taller than him, he will be throwing you onto his shoulder with you sitting pretty so very easily. doesn’t even need to hold his breath for a second before he’s putting you on his shoulder, looking at your new given height with a smile. no swaying in his footsteps, he’s firmly planted on the ground and holding you tight so you don’t fall.

liked the one where you wrapped a bow around his bicep too, only cause that one made you so happy. he faked messing it up a couple of times just so he can see that excited smile on your face as many times as possible. before you very adorably scolded him to be serious and he flexed his bicep as hard as possible, breaking the tied bow within seconds.

“do you love my arms more than me, be honest,” caleb’s question isn’t serious at all, he’s just asking to rile you up. you’ve been trying for the perfect shot for what feels like forever and caleb’s teasing isn’t helping your patience.

“i’d love you so much more if you could just do it!” you shush him, retying the pretty pink bow and squeezing his muscular arm, “please, hyung?”

“well when my boyfriend asks like that, how can i say no?” kisses you so softly it practically melts away your annoyance. caleb grins as he hears the audio you’ve chosen play again and he prepares to actually not mess it up for you. to make you happy.

and when you finish filming, you throw your arms around him and bring the both of you down onto the bed. he smiles into your skin, kissing your neck softly as his strong arms go around your back in a tight hug.

“thank you, baby,”

“of course, my love. now — show me the video, wanna see my hard work pay off,” you roll your eyes at his wording.

“all you did was flex your arm, shut up.”

“and you still were looking at me like a piece of candy, now what?” he teases, biting your cheek softly.

“don't bite me!” you screech, smacking his stomach. “swear to god caleb, i’ll bite you back,”

“yeah, wouldn't you like that,” he grins, kissing the spot he bit and wiping it softly with the bottom of his shirt. the sneak peek you got of his abs made you forgive him and settle into his lap to watch the video he worked so hard on.

caleb who is dating you to marry. he already knew he always wants to marry you, but is just holding off on popping the question because you guys are a young couple, plus the fact you are a couple years younger than him. he’s so very, very excited though so permanently make you his and vice versa. wants to turn that promise ring into the real deal as soon as possible.

[waynes-multiverse]

Gaaawwwd, I'm loving this, Beth! 😭🩵🩷 The nostalgia!!! The boys when they were little! (Fucking hell is Sammy cute and precious 😭🥹 and my heart breaks for little Dean who's already hell-bent on hunter life 💔). And then damn Bobby being the perfect foster dad for these two! And Rufus! Rufus had me fucking cackling with his commentary and sheer presence 😂

God, this was so amazing! Favorite parts and thoughts below 👇

“I don’t,” Bobby said. But just as Dean didn’t realise the significance of you in his life at the time, Bobby hadn’t realised the boys in his either.

This made me tear up a little! Just makes you wish Bobby could’ve been their dad full time 🥲

But Dean only shrugged, still defiant he should’ve been out there with his father.

Oh God, Beth! Stop it! My heart can’t take it 😭 This is one of the moments where you just want to wrap your arms around him and tell him that it doesn't have to be this way. That he doesn't have to be this way 🥲

Did he have to give these kids the bird and the bees talk, too? Hell no, he wasn’t!

Yes. Yes please do! 🤣

“No!” Dean lost his chin to his neck. “She’s my friend, and she’s a girl.”

So fucking cute. I wanna pinch his dimpled cheeks 😆

What was your name? Dean couldn’t answer that because he didn’t know. You were a girl, you’d been nice to him, and you didn’t like orange juice. That was the extent of it. You’d played your game after that. The one where he chased you, and you ran, much like what hunters did. Only, you weren’t a monster, and he didn’t hunt.

Lmao typical kid shit. "You wanna play?" – *shrugs* "Sure!" And off the fucking go 😂🫶 Why is it never this easy with adults?

I loved all the little kid tidbits you wove in there btw! Like Dean also saying he knows Uncle Bobby isn't related to them. I heard it in that sweet, cocky "I'm old enough to know shit now. You can't fool me anymore" voice 😆

Or this 👇

Of course, to a nine-year-old, “You like Batman?” was far more important.

Both Winchester boys had a chance at normal life. Well, semi-normal due to the talismans and arsenal in his basement.

Why do you aim to maim my heart, Beth???? 😭💔

The air was warm when they stepped outside. As Dean always did, he put the needs of his baby brother first, pulling off the four-year-olds jacket, then tying it ‘round his waist.

He's such a good brother and he would've deserved to be a dad!!!! Dear God, Beth, stop it. I'm begging you. This is torture for my poor heart!

And as a side note, Dean really is doing a good job here, considering the kid is only nine and four year olds ain't easy to please and keep track of 😝

Whirs. Dings. Whistles. The electronic piano jingles and a rocking soundtrack that tried its best to overcome everything else greeted you when the tinted glass doors rattled open. Lights, as far as the eye could see, of neon pinks, greens and blues and a carpet, littered with stains of mud and grass from the other kids already there, matched all that was overhead and surrounding.

God, I loved this description! You really took me there and hooked me right in! Loved how you wove in all the colors, too 😍🩷🩵

With a huff, and one eye on you both at all times, Dean jogged over to the change machine by the door and swapped his money for quarters. You guys were the worst. Annoying. Impatient. Yet the way you grabbed the chair for Sam, and held it steady for him while he climbed up, had Dean’s nose buzzing again.

I can just so see little Dean with his little huffs and eye rolls whenever they annoyed him hahaha 😂

And that nose buzzing thing is so cute! Is that a thing? I've never heard of it before or heard a kid describe feelings at that. But it's adorable that his little crush on her shows this way and he notices it 🥰

And fuck yes, gimme 1997!!!!! I'm living for this!! 😍😍😍

IF YOU LEAVE

Chapter 1: Pretty in Pink

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Dean Winchester x Reader

In the spring of 1988, Dean meets the girl of his dreams. He just doesn’t know it yet. 2k words

Tags: fluff, angst, young Sam and Dean, slow(ish) burn romance, childhood sweethearts, friends to lovers, 80s, 90s, season three, spans three decades, eventual smut, Rufus - crotchety at any age

@chevroletdean is celebrating 500 followers with a writing challenge! Liane made the beautiful mood-board above for me to work with. You can find more about the Milestone Celebration HERE. I’m gonna try and finish this before the 18th, but consider this chapter my piece for the challenge 😘

Next Chapter

April 1988

The first time Dean saw you was in third grade, Mrs Petersen’s class, but it wasn’t until during recess on the second day that you spoke. Your hair in pigtails, him with dirt on his knees, and a simple exchange over a juice box, because you were yet to learn how to filter.

At that point, as children often do, you didn’t think to ask for each other’s names, and when both boys walked through Bobby’s front door that afternoon, and he asked “How was school? Did you talk t’any other kids today?” He got a smile and a grunt as both boys ran up the stairs to their room.

“That great, huh?” He scratched his forehead under his cap, and went back to the kitchen to continue supper, and the hex bag he was making up for Rufus. The idjit had shown up on his doorstep earlier that day.

“I thought you didn’t have any Rugrats?” Rufus thumbed to the hall he’d come out of. A bottle of Jack in the other.

“I don’t,” Bobby said. But just as Dean didn’t realise the significance of you in his life at the time, Bobby hadn’t realised the boys in his either.

Dinner was simple that night. Bobby wasn’t a chef, but he was determined to give the Winchester boys something normal for once in their young lives. It’s why he’d enrolled them in the local school in the first place. Bought them bags and shoes. New clothes for Sammy because Dean’s hand-me-downs were far too big for the little tyke.

He’d even taken them to a barber, somewhere he never took himself, and signed Dean up for the school lunch program.

Yeah, he was growing soft. Lucky he had Rufus to point out the fact further with his outright stares and grins.

He was just doing a good deed. Looking after the future. Wasn’t that a part of being regular folk? Never mind the lady ringing up his groceries at the supermarket had frowned at him when he didn’t have a valid excuse for why they weren’t at school that day or two days before that.

Balls. That’s what it was. And he’d kick Rufus’ if he were close enough to reach with his boot.

Comments about him getting old, also balls. If Rufus was dumb enough to keep hounding him, he deserved a gun to his sack. Don’t worry ‘bout his steel caps.

He cleared his throat. Took a swig of beer and then settled his eyes on Dean. The kid was a smartass, but he was respectable, and had to open up, eventually. “So, did you learn anything today?” he asked. Tried to force a smile onto his face.

But Dean only shrugged, still defiant he should’ve been out there with his father.

“Well, what about your teacher? What’s her name?” He knew she was a she from the paperwork, Mrs Peters, or something like that. He just didn’t bother to remember in front of Rufus.

It didn’t matter though, because Dean shrugged again and shoveled another bite of meatloaf into his mouth.

Kids.

“My teacher is Miss Reeves,” young Sam piped up. Kid was smart for a four-year-old.

“Yeah? And what’d you do with her?” It’d been a long time since Bobby had graduated high school. Had no idea what kids in preschool did, besides the ABCs, he supposed. “Did you, ah,” he looked at Rufus for guidance, but the idjit had none. “Did you colour…or…sing a song?”

“I used blue, and red, and green for the grass I draws.” Sam beamed.

Okay… “That’s great, kid,” Bobby said.

Rufus downed another shot of Jack. The glass, sharp against the table when he hammered it onto the linoleum top. “Real great.” His tongue clicked. “What about you Dean? You colour, too?”

But when Dean said nothing, “Didn’t think so,” tumbled outta Rufus’ mouth.

“You could’ve given him a chance to answer.”

“Didn’t need to. He’s not gonna. Look at him.” Rufus swiped his hand out in front. His brow raised when Dean opened his mouth, though, and then he looked interested.

“I met a girl,” he said, resorting back to his former slouching when he noticed both men frozen and staring at him.

It was the loudest he’d spoken since living under Bobby’s roof. The first time he’d shown emotion other than attitude, and Bobby couldn’t help but smile. Until he thought harder about the issue.

Did he have to give these kids the bird and the bees talk, too? Hell no, he wasn’t!

His fingers scratched through his beard. That smile of his fell to a thin, pursed line. Bit of teeth spiking through the gap.

“A girl, huh? Like a girlfriend?”

“No!” Dean lost his chin to his neck. “She’s my friend, and she’s a girl.”

Simple. Obvious. Bobby felt the fool. Until he asked the all important question.

“What’s her name?”

What was your name?

Dean couldn’t answer that because he didn’t know. You were a girl, you’d been nice to him, and you didn’t like orange juice. That was the extent of it. You’d played your game after that. The one where he chased you, and you ran, much like what hunters did. Only, you weren’t a monster, and he didn’t hunt.

Not allowed to. Too young to do anything more than babysit Sammy and stay with Uncle Bobby.

He knew they weren’t related.

When he stepped into the classroom the next morning, books in hand, his eyes swept the room. No, he wasn’t interested in the US map, or the globe in the corner. He didn’t care that Mrs Petersen was scribbling sums on the board ready for the day’s lessons or for the tall boy with the extra tires whose farts created a war zone as he walked through the dust cloud.

No. He focused on you. Hair once again in pigtails, hot pink t-shirt and matching nails, which he thought little of because it was all too…girly, but then you smiled at him and his nose tingled as a result.

“Hi Dean,” you even said, and it was all he could do to not smile back as he took his seat in the row behind you and the Bat-signal drawn onto your right heel.

He needed to learn your name.

Of course, to a nine-year-old, “You like Batman?” was far more important. He asked you that when he sat down next to you at lunch that same day. The pale green plastic of his lunch-tray, just fitting in between yours and the boy’s to his left.

Your look of disgust was apparent even from your side profile, and unlike his smile, Dean couldn’t hold back his laughter when you turned. Not only did you spit out the word, “No,” but a sliver of strawberry jello came with it.

You wiped at your chin and poked your tongue out, which made him laugh harder.

“I like Michelangelo more, but my brother says he’s stupid.” Your head and eyes dropped to look under the table. “Didn’t like it when I told him the Ninja Turtles would beat Batman up.”

“Well, Leonardo might,” Dean said, and you frowned. “With his help,” he added.

His nose tingled again.

There was lots of that over the course of the week and the one that followed. Dean learned your name, and that your mom’s middle one was Mary - it only took a couple of extra days - but from the moment you bonded over your favourite cartoons, the two of you became inseparable, and Bobby was pleased.

Both Winchester boys had a chance at normal life. Well, semi-normal due to the talismans and arsenal in his basement.

And while Rufus refused to show his face again, as long as Sam and Dean lived under his roof, Bobby didn’t mind. He rather enjoyed that. But it didn’t stop other hunters and their problems from showing up on his doorstep, and on one particular Saturday morning after hearing from Bill Harvellle, he dug deep into his wallet for a couple of dollar bills and handed them to Dean.

“Why don’t you take your brother and that friend of yours to the arcade or somethin’,” he said, then narrowed his brows at the boy. “Call the house line ‘round five. Make sure it’s safe to come home.”

Dean took the money and shoved it in his front pocket. “Yes, sir.” He nodded once, and then grabbed Sammy by the hand and pulled him to the door.

The air was warm when they stepped outside. As Dean always did, he put the needs of his baby brother first, pulling off the four-year-olds jacket, then tying it ‘round his waist. He did the same with his and they were off. Sam on the handlebars of the bike Bobby had fixed up for them, Dean peddling with all his might into town.

It was hard work, and by the time they reached your house, he was out of breath, but it was worth it to feel the wind in his hair.

Cheeks puffed, neck hot and sweaty under the collar of his T-shirt, he knocked on your front door with a tight fist, and took a step back.

The dark wooden floorboards creaked underneath his sneakers. Footsteps from the other side moved closer, and he was soon met with your grinning smile and a bright pink scrunchie in your hair.

He scrunched his nose up, but that turned upside down when he saw the Ninja Turtle action figures in your hands.

“Hi Dean,” you said, peeking around him to look at Sam standing next to their bike. “You guys wanna come in and play?”

But they didn’t. Just as Bobby had suggested, Dean had other plans, and after checking in with your mom, the three of you headed to the local arcade.

Whirs. Dings. Whistles. The electronic piano jingles and a rocking soundtrack that tried its best to overcome everything else greeted you when the tinted glass doors rattled open. Lights, as far as the eye could see, of neon pinks, greens and blues and a carpet, littered with stains of mud and grass from the other kids already there, matched all that was overhead and surrounding.

Sammy clung to Dean even tighter. His little hands tugged on the base of his shirt. While on the other side of him, your face reflected the excitement hammering up his legs.

Until this stage in his young life, Dean had only been to an arcade once. The lucky timing of a classmate’s birthday party at a different school he spent all of two weeks in, well before being dumped here at Bobby’s.

That place was awesome, but this? It was awesome, too. There was just something about not being accompanied by adults that made it better.

Pacman and Donkey Kong called his name. Q-Bert, whatever the hell that was supposed to be. Space Invaders. Pin-ball and claw machines.

“Look! They have a Ninja Turtles one!” You pointed towards the back where a large machine plastered with their now fluorescent green faces stood out amongst the rest. “C’mon Sammy.” You grabbed the youngest boy’s hand and ripped him away from Dean.

“Hey, wait,” he called, but under all the noise, it was a lost cause.

With a huff, and one eye on you both at all times, Dean jogged over to the change machine by the door and swapped his money for quarters. You guys were the worst. Annoying. Impatient. Yet the way you grabbed the chair for Sam, and held it steady for him while he climbed up, had Dean’s nose buzzing again.

His nose buzzed like that every time he saw you. Playing games, eating lunch in the cafeteria. Riding your bikes through the streets of Sioux Falls, side by side, that same wind in your hair.

It’s just a shame it didn’t last long.

Never did.

Sam and Dean Winchester flew through towns as many times as there were months in the year, sometimes more. The Spring of ‘88 a rarity. Their stint at the local school and preschool, even rarer, and one soon forgotten.

Until 1997 when Dean found himself enrolling at another school in Sioux Falls.

He didn’t know the significance of that either, but he soon would. You’d make him.

Next Chapter

Am I shooting myself in the foot by releasing this part when I haven’t finished the rest? Probably, but I’m used to it. We’ll be diving into three stages in Dean and readers life in this one - up next - 1997.

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[pome-seed]

The Soldier's Keeper ★ 37

Pairing: Winter Soldier!Bucky x Doctor!Reader

Summary: In the past few weeks, the weather had started to shift. So during the calm of your stay in Wakanda, you enjoy a night in the rain.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: Fluff. Self Regulation Problems. Little bit of panic.

18+ blog, Minors Do Not Interact.

Authors Note: My broken laptop decided to work for me for a little!!! ALSO, if you want to be apart of the taglist, let me know :)

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

The region you resided in had two seasons. Wet and dry. Always hot. You hadn’t been in Wakanda for long, but you were told the weather was currently in its shifting period from wet to dry.

The grass grew green and the air misted with dew. To prepare for the coming rain, you were taught that you needed to add extra straw lining to the roof of your hut. 

Bucky did almost all the labor without you asking. He carried a heavy barrel of straw as you walked the carved path back to your huts. You glanced up at the sky, at the gathering clouds. 

“Do you like the rain?”

Bucky shifted the thick dry straw under his arm. “It’s fine.”

You glanced at the man, his gaze sweeping over the valley around you. It had been a few days since you watched the sunset together, and since then, you were only more sure of how you felt. You were thankful for the peace of nature.

The peace of solitude, outside the city, outside the world. 

As a scientist born and raised in a big city, you never thought you would say that. But you meant it. You liked the simplicity of things. You liked the safety. 

“You haven’t seen much rain, have you?” You stepped over an overgrown tree root. 

“Nope,” Bucky rolled his neck, glancing at you. “Snow, yes. A lot of snow.”

You suppressed a smile and nodded. “Mm, snow. I doubt we’ll see much of that here.” 

“Perfect,” he muttered. “Add that to the list.”

“The list?” You squinted up at him.

“List of things I like about this place,” he looked a little abashed at the minor confession. You waited for him to continue, listening silently. “Like the quiet, and the food, and-” he shrugged. “It’s just nice.”

“I like the security.” You smiled, reaching down to itch where the tall grass tickled your leg. “It’s safe here. Safer than I think anywhere else on the planet.” You chuckled.

Bucky smiled to himself, agreeing beyond words. It was always hard for him to articulate himself, like words were lost on him, but he wanted to share his thoughts. He wanted to express how secure he found your little slice of the earth, hidden in a valley. 

He liked the solitude. Beside the children that visited from the nearest village homestead, and Shuri, you both were left alone. He liked it that way. 

He would never admit it, but he liked it.

He missed Steve, with every small notice from the outside world, but he didn’t feel the need to leave. He felt safe. He felt free, in a way he never had before. 

Wakanda was proving to be the place where Bucky felt most himself, and he was slowly beginning to accept that.

When you arrived back at your little home, Bucky set to work with relaying the dry straw. You watched him with a fond grin as he worked, that strong frown gracing his lips. 

By the second hour, a few of the village children came by with baskets of corn and paint. You sat on the rocks with them as they taught you how to paint their faces with earthy colors.

You hadn’t learned as much of the Wakandan language as Bucky, but you could tell they were teasing you.

You hadn’t noticed, but at some point Bucky finished his work, and was watching you. He chewed at his thumbnail and suppressed a smile when one of the children scolded you for using the wrong color. 

One of the boys looked over your shoulder and started shouting at Bucky, using the fond nickname they coined for him. He stiffened slightly, still not used to the comfortable way the children flocked around him.

You snickered at the wide eyed look he had when a young boy started hopping up into his space.

You never thought Bucky would be so good with children, with his aloof and distant nature. But he was always so kind to them, allowing them to poke at his metal arm and paint shapes and lines over the steel. You could see the way he marveled at their kind nature. 

How they weren’t afraid of him.

Rice popped in the smooth pan, sizzling as Bucky added tomato paste. The bonfire crackled against the stones holding it together, dry twigs reduced to ash as the flames raged. You glanced up at Bucky over the fire, the light casting him in a soft glow.

Over the past few days, you and Bucky joined each other by the pond in making dinner. It was nothing fancy, usually just simple proteins and rice, but it was delicious. While Bucky stirred the rice, you peeled the plantains, then tossed them in the pan. 

The soft vegetables turned a slight yellow color under the heat. Bucky picked a fallen leaf out of the pan of rice with his metal fingers. “How’s your treatment going?” 

Bucky stiffened, then forced himself to relax. “Shuri’s good at what she does.” He shook the pan, spreading the rice. “They have this room-” he cocked his jaw, picking his words carefully. “They’ve been hooking me up to all these wires and sitting me in there for hours. It’s like when I’m in there, nothing can get to me.”

Bucky spoke with gentle caution, picking through the darkest trials of his treatments.

You listened carefully, dishing out portions of food onto smooth wooden plates. 

“She used a combination of vibranium-based tech and biochemical blockers - something that dampens the synaptic response to the trigger words. Like…retraining my brain not to obey.” He took the plate from you, avoiding your kind gaze as he spoke. 

“Do you think it’s working?” You passed him utensils. 

He shrugged, mashing the plantains on his plate. “Not a damn clue.” He swallowed. “I hope it is.”

“You’re gonna have to test it eventually, right?” You pushed carefully.

He nodded, pushing the rice around on his place. “Yeah.”

“Do you think you’re ready for that?”

He looked up at you now, the flames flickering in the bright blue of his eyes. “I don’t know. But I don’t really have a choice.”

“Yeah,” You muttered, watching as he took his first bite. “Or you could just stay here forever, live off the land. Never worry about it again.” You joked, shoving a bite in your mouth.

Bucky lifted a brow as he chewed. “Great plan.” He muttered sarcastically.

You watched him clear his plate easily, then go back for a second. Usually you had fish with dinner, but after laying extra straw all afternoon, Bucky forgot to catch one.

You tried to imagine what that life would look like for Bucky. Disappearing from the world, staying hidden in the great expanse of nature. Bathing in the pond. Picking his own food. Learning beading techniques from the village children. 

Peaceful. Quiet. 

“You like it here,” your lips quirked in a smile. 

Bucky stirred his plate and nodded. “I do.” He shrugged. “Out here…there's no missions, no expectations, no threats. Just-” He turned his face away from the heat of the fire. He swallowed the words just us. “Just the goats.”

You scraped at your plate, listening quietly. “Just the bucks.”

He rolled his eyes at you, pointing his spoon in your direction. “Don’t start that.”

“You don’t want to talk about un-castrated goats?” You tilted your head.

He grimaced, setting his spoon on his plate. “Why do you even know that?”

“One of the wonders of being born in the past few decades is the internet. You haven’t used it much- and probably shouldn’t- but you can learn a lot on there.” You set your plate on the floor by your feet. 

“And you chose to look into goats?” He squinted at you. You shrugged. 

“You fall down rabbit holes.” You paused. “Maybe we should go into the city and you can get on a computer or something. Then you’ll get it.”

He cringed and shook his head. “I think I’m good on goat castration.”

“That’s not-” You choked on a laugh, slapping a hand over your face. “You can look into other things, Bucky.” 

But you doubted he wanted to. He didn’t want to go into the city. He wanted to stay right where he was, with you.

A sizzling sound fizzled by the fire as slow drops of water dripped into the pan between you. You turned your head to the sky, holding your hands out. A gentle breeze shook the trees. A ticklish cold drop stained your palm as rain began to descend from the sky. 

Bucky copied you and held his hands out, feeling the drops against his skin. As the minute stretched, the rain grew heavier, dampening the firepit until only wet smoke remained. You grinned and rose from the grass. 

Bucky’s instinct was to move into his hut and hide from the weather, but he stayed to watch you. Sitting with his legs crossed on the dirt, his gaze tracked you. 

The scattered droplets decorated the pond's surface with echoing ringlets. The sound had you closing your eyes to listen closer. The shoulders of your shirt began to stick to your skin as you stood there, feeling the water seep through your clothes. 

A shiver wracked your body as a gentle breeze blew through the valley. You nearly jumped when a warm hand swept down your spine. Your eyes snapped open to see Bucky at your side, his face tipped up towards the sky.

He usually moved with steady silence, but tonight the rain helped him surprise you. “We’ll get sick if we stay out, won’t we?” He asked, his voice low and quiet beneath the rhythmic pattern of the rain. 

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your lips as you looked at him, long dark hair sticking to his skin, eyes squinted narrowly against the water that gathered in his eyelashes. 

“No, we’re fine.” He glanced down at you. You tracked the drop of water that slid down the bridge of his nose. “Only if we stay out for long. Being cold lowers your immune system and makes you more vulnerable to sickness, but only if we’re out for long.” You rambled, your gaze stuck on the way Bucky wiped water from his lips.

“Ah,” he nodded, looking back up at the sky. You shivered again, and his hand pet your lower back slowly- like an instinct.

“I like the rain,” you raised your voice over the chatter of the droplets on the pond. “I think it’s pretty.”

“Yeah?” He let his eyes slide closed, the cold mist sprinkling his skin. 

“Yeah.” You stared at him in thought, fond memories and images of him burned into your mind. “Wanna try something?”

He glanced back at you, wiping a hand down his face. “Like what?”

“Wanna go for a swim?”

“That sounds exactly like it would lower your temperature.” Water dripped from his eyelashes. 

“You only live once.”

He stared at you for a long moment, under the flickering light of the sun as it disappeared between clouds and the horizon. He watched a drop of water gather in the corner of your lips, then slide down your chin. 

“Fine.”

You grinned and stepped out of his space, already tugging your shirt up. “Then c’mon.” 

You were in the water before Bucky could catch his breath, your pants sticking to the soil by his feet, where you threw them. You gasped when the cold water hit your waist, rising over the tender flesh of your stomach.

“Fuck- that’s much colder in the rain,” you laughed. 

There was a splash behind you, and then you felt the warmth radiating from his chest. “You’re supposed to be a scientist, remember.” 

You turned around, sending a splash his way. “Don’t get smart with me.” You tried to sound exasperated, but the tone died in your throat as you looked at him. 

The last rays of daylight washed over his naked skin like the first glow of a dying star. Rain dripped and slid down the column of his throat, gathering in the dips of muscle on the way down his chest. He raked his dark hair back, metal fingers contrasting sharply with the wet strands. 

“‘M not trying to,” he grinned. “But a scientist should know cold is cold.”

You sent another splash his way, making him shiver. A gentle breeze rustled through the damp grass, making your bare skin break out in goosebumps. Your bra clung to your skin like wet on water, now your only cover. 

You should have thought this plan through, you realize, as Bucky’s wandering gaze tracked your shiver. You took a few more steps back into the pond, until cool blue water tickled the underside of your breasts. 

“It’s not nice to be so snarky, you know,” you finally replied, dipping your head back to let the cold flush your hair.

Bucky pressed his lips together, smothering his light smile into something dopey. He watched the length of your hair spread out across the surface as you dipped your head under. He tracked your distorted form.

He hissed when you pinched the top of his foot, making him stumble back. You caught his foot and yanked, and then he was falling back. His large form made bubbles spread underwater from his impact. 

You popped your head up with a gasp, wiping your eyes- useless, as water rained from the sky. You snickered at Bucky’s dark head of hair, distorted by ripples. 

You let the cold rain seep into your bones, spreading and chilling you. You didn’t care. 

Bucky’s long limbs spread out beneath the surface, your brows pinched together. “What are you doing-?” You barely finished the sentence in time for a thick arm to slide around your waist. 

You yelped as you were pulled from the water weightlessly. “Buck-” He shifted you, tucking you under his arm- like you were another barrel of straw. 

You could barely scold him through wheezing laughter, squirming as his palm spread out across your stomach. “Stop moving,” Bucky snickered, carrying you back until the water reached his knees. You shivered as rain tickled your back. 

“Bucky, I swear-” You laughed. 

Bucky slid his arms around you, hauling you into the air. He promptly tossed you with measured strength. You shrieked as your body went airborne, wind and rain mixing until all you could feel was water. You landed with a heavy splash, several yards from the shore.

You finally broke the surface with a gasp. The first thing you heard was thick, unfiltered laughter. You blinked away drops until you could see him, hand smacked over his chest, as if he was trying to physically hold himself together. 

“Ass!” You laughed, kicking your feet gently to stay afloat. 

“That's a donkey, we only want goats, remember?” He shouted, swimming towards you. You rolled your eyes, turning to swim in the opposite direction. 

Bucky caught your ankle and dragged you back to him. He could still stand at that distance, you realized. Sometimes you forgot just how big the man was. 

“It rains once and now you’re full of jokes.” You panted, squinting at him through the rain.

Bucky held his metal arm out wordlessly, allowing you to use it to hold yourself up, so your legs didn’t grow tired. “Your ideas don’t always go the way you want.” He swallowed, his chest rising quickly as he caught his breath. 

“I’m never going swimming with you again,” you muttered, your voice almost too low to hear over the rain crashing against the pond. 

“Hm?” Bucky tilted his head, leaning close to hear you. 

Your breath hitched. Your lips brushed his ear. “I’m never taking you swimming again.” 

He chuckled quietly, his teeth chattering from the cold. “You made the first move,” he leaned back, his gaze dropping to your lips again, to track your words. “Can’t get mad when I play your game.”

“I didn’t throw you.”

“You couldn’t if you tried.” His teeth nipped at his lip, trying to suppress a smile. 

You tried to think of something quick-witted to say, but your words failed you. Reality dawned on you slowly as you met his gaze, his dark lashes sharp against soft blue. You knew where you were. How you both were dressed. 

You knew that your relationship was born out of fear and pain, but it bloomed into something all of your own efforts.

Something warm and safe and kind. 

Something beautiful. The kind that made it easy to strip to your underwear and go swimming in the rain. 

“Hey Buck?” You panted, glancing up at him. 

“Hm?” He tilted his head at you, his flesh hand sliding to your waist. He told himself it was to help you stay afloat. He knew it didn’t matter. He just wanted to feel you beneath his touch. 

“Have you ever done this before?” Your voice died on you, growing meek as you spoke. Droplets of rain slid down your nose, falling to the water between you. 

He heard you easily, close enough to feel your breath if you gasped deep enough. His throat bobbed as he swallowed your words, his mind working overtime to analyze your meaning. Truth was, it didn’t matter what you were referring to.

Nothing he did with you was familiar ground.

“No,” He spoke tenderly, blinking at you through mist. “I’ve-” He caught himself, his curious gaze scattering over your features. “Never.”

“Me neither,” you smiled, timid. You dipped your chin, catching your wavering reflection between you- before the heavy rain scattered the image. Bucky’s metal arm pulled from beneath the water. You caught yourself on his shoulders, fingers pressing to muscle for support. 

Cold steel slid across your cheek, dragging your gaze up to meet his. You swallowed heavily. 

His lips quirked in a nervous smile as he pushed soaking strands of hair from your face. “You only live once, right?” He echoed your words, his metal fingers sliding down the bend of your neck. 

You nodded, huffing out a choked laugh. A shiver trembled down your spine, making your teeth clatter together. 

Bucky frowned to himself, his thumb pressing into your stomach from where he held your waist. “We should go before you get sick,” he muttered. You stared up at him, instinctively leaning closer as he pulled away- even just a fraction. 

“I don’t want to go yet.” You felt breathless. Why were you so breathless?

His brows pinched together gently, in that familiar, thoughtful way. “Not yet,” he echoed your words, his gaze tracking your lips as they formed words. 

“Bucky,” you whispered. He wouldn’t hear it if he wasn’t watching. But he was, he was always watching you. 

Your name fell from his tongue like a prayer. You’d never heard him sound like that. But he said it again, his metal palm sliding heavily across the side of your head, pushing back hair as the rain made it slide free. 

Your foreheads knocked together. 

What were you doing? 

You could feel his eyelashes flutter shut against your eyebrow. You could feel how cold his skin was. Your face slid against his, your temples touching as you leaned into one another. His heated breath fanned against your cheek.

His strong nose dragged against your cheekbone as he turned into your face.

He repeated your name again, soft and weak.

“Bucky…” You didn’t know what you wanted to say. You didn’t know what you were doing.

You just knew you didn’t want to stop. 

His lips brushed the corner of your mouth.

A gasp trembled in your chest. Your fingers nearly slipped from his shoulder. 

His tongue grazed your skin as he licked his lips. 

Thunder rumbled in the sky, trembling and rocking the earth.

His eyes flew open, but he didn’t pull away. He couldn’t. Metal fingers tugged gently at the hair on the base of your neck. You rocked your face into his, where his mouth dragged against your cheek. Rough stubble scratched your skin raw. 

A soft, broken noise hitched in his throat. 

You slid a hand up the back of his neck, pushing into his hair. You turned into him, pushing your forehead to his. You dragged your nails against his scalp. 

A trembling sigh fell against your lips. 

“Bucky,” you called, gently petting his skin. Lightning slashed in the sky, sharp and blinding. Like a trance broken, the bruising grip on your body released. He gasped wetly into the space between you. His arm slid around your waist, and then you weren’t holding yourself up at all. 

Bucky held your body against his, tremors wracking his muscles beneath the water. His head dropped to your shoulder as he sucked in a sharp breath.

Your dazed hand slipped down the nape of his neck as you caught your breath. 

“I-” Bucky’s voice crackled against your neck, quiet and careful. He shook his head. “I’m s-” He swallowed, droplets of water spilling over his lips. He swayed with the water, almost wishing he had something to lean on- something to hold his weight while he held yours.

“We should head back,” you whispered beneath the roar of the weather.

He dipped his chin to his chest, staring at his distorted reflection between you. He nodded helplessly. “Yeah.” He whispered, barely audible. 

Thunder rumbled again. A breeze shook leaves from the trees. You squeezed your eyes shut against the rain, trying desperately to catch your breath, from whatever that was.

You felt the need to run, to hide, to play pretend. 

But there was no hiding from Bucky. 

There was no lying to him, or smothering whatever this was that took up space in your chest. 

And as his touch trailed down your naked back, memorizing, you knew he understood the same thing. 

By the time you made it to shore, you were trembling so hard you could barely stand. But that didn’t matter, because Bucky was there to hold you up. He was silent the whole swim back, his steady hands the only evidence he was still there.

You gathered your clothes from where they stuck to mud, your fist shaking with your tight grip. Bucky’s hand slid down your naked waist, his brows pinched in concern as you trembled. Though, when you met his gaze, he almost recoiled. Embarrassment- vulnerability- flashed behind those familiar blue eyes. 

He tugged his lip between his teeth. His hand slid away from your waist. You followed his distant gaze as he glanced at his hut. You could imagine the escape he was working out in his head. 

But he couldn't run from you. Not really. “Buck,” you called his name. He almost didn’t hear it over the rain. “Bucky,” you called out, his gaze snapped to yours. Your heart thundered in your chest with the force of the sky, beating in time with the scattered rain. His throat bobbed visibly. 

Your soaking clothes slid from your hand. 

His cheek twitched with the frail restraint that held him together. That kept him in one piece.

But you didn’t want to see the mask. The shotty glue that kept his pieces slotted together in what resembled the man he should be. 

You didn’t want that Bucky.

You wanted your Bucky.

Your freezing hands slid up the expanse of his chest, your smooth palm cradling his jaw. His spine gave in as he leaned into you, heavy and barely breathing. 

“Fuck-” his voice trembled into the space between you as he collapsed into your body. You sucked in a sharp breath as he tugged you into him, his strong arms curling around you.

His calloused fingers slid into your hair and yanked you close. 

His lips dragged against your cheek. 

Through all the pain and loss you’d endured, you often thought nothing mattered. You thought you’d lost everything, and your life was doomed to fade into the shadows. 

You thought darkness had overtaken everything you ever cared about.

But now, standing in the rain, soaking wet, cradled by Bucky, you realized how wrong you were. 

As Bucky’s lips pressed to yours in a bruising kiss, you realized how worth it it all was.

You gasped into his mouth, his tongue filling the gap. His hand trembled against your jaw, where he cradled you close. He groaned softly, the sound spreading over your tongue as you tasted him.

A fiery, swelling longing spread through your chest, melting the ice that coated your flesh. You held the back of his head with barely there control, your nails dragging down his scalp. 

You could feel him whine against your lips, his metal arm winding around your back. He hiked you up against him, your toes barely grazing the floor.

You dragged your lips against his in a heated, tender kiss. Plush and bruising and wet. The words you both felt helpless to say burned into each other's skin with each touch. Your tongue dragged over his, soft and careful between brushes of lips. 

His teeth nipped at your lip, his body begging to bring you closer- closer than physically possible. 

Your feet left the ground as he straightened. His steel fingers slid over the curve of your ass, dragging your thigh up to wrap around him. You panted against his tongue, curling your body around him. You brushed his hair back from where it stuck to your cheeks. 

Bucky let out a choked off sound when your ankles locked around his hips. You swallowed the taste of him. 

You were moving, you realized, as he ducked below the short entry to his hut. The lack of rain hit you instantly, making you shiver against him. He dragged his scarred palm down your throat in a soothing touch. 

His stubble scraped your face raw as he pressed closer, begging to consume you. He groaned into your mouth as your hands wandered, your slick skin sliding together. 

The slow friction made him pant, warmth and tender touch tearing down his walls. His knees nearly buckled when your tongue stroked over his, your palm dragging over his Adam's apple. 

It was like a spell was cast over you both, or like one was broken. Like all the control and restraint and bottled emotions broke free. Like all the fear and care and longing was too much.

His skin felt raw and ablaze beneath your touch, shaken with tremors and terrified. 

Terrified, but oh so free. 

Bucky gently pressed your body into his mattress, his large body blanketing yours. You felt suffocated and safe all at once. Like the air around you was new and sacred, but fizzling thinner by the second. 

Bucky muttered your name against your lips, pressing and nipping and worshiping. You nearly sobbed when he gently sucked on your tongue. 

His palms dragged down your waist, pinning you steady. But it wasn’t you who was shaking, it was him.

It was him who was falling apart, piece by piece, wrecked and broken and whole all at once. The tender vulnerability he carried around you was cracked raw in a whole new way, and it was like that soft core inside of him was bleeding.

He was bleeding and he couldn’t breathe. He was falling and he couldn’t catch himself. With each drag of his tongue, and each plush press of his lips, he was breaking.

Breaking apart and open, never to be sealed again. 

He groaned into your mouth, pressing his weight onto you, smothering you with his overwhelming presence. You gasped, barely catching shallow breaths between his achingly raw kisses.

“B- Mm-” You sucked gently at his bottom lip, pulling a wrecked sound from his chest. He let out a noise- one so deeply close to a sob- against your tongue. 

You slid your cold hands along his jaw, thumbs swiping droplets of water from his cheeks. His heavy breath felt warm against your flesh. You stroked his cheek, petting him. 

“Bucky…” You whispered, your other hand pressing gently against his nape. “Bucky,” you called, allowing him to clumsily nip at your jaw. 

With each scattered breath, you stroked down his spine, chanting his name like a prayer. His body was wracked with tremors, emotions bubbling hot and high. 

You called his name again as his tongue swept over the hinge of your jaw. His breath hitched. His strong hands pressed into your hips. He swallowed hard, his nose tracing a line along your throat. He couldn’t catch his breath. 

“Breathe,” you whispered. You slowly wrapped your fingers around his scarred wrist, then dragged it to the narrow space between you. You slid his palm against your breastbone, pressing his touch over your heart. “Breathe.”

He swallowed, his body sagging further into yours. His lips pressed to your pulse point, feeling the steady beat. You felt the trembling puffs of breath against your skin. 

You slowly inhaled, your racing heart struggling to slow. You tried to pretend you were grounded, but god was it hard- with him, like this.

Bucky’s bionic arm made a clicking noise as plates shifted. His fingers gently released the bruising grip. 

You held him close, stroking his wet hair back as he pressed close. You didn’t want him to pull away. You didn’t want this to end. But he needed to catch his breath. 

He made a soft noise against your throat. You pressed a tender kiss to the crown of his head. He sighed against you. His cold metal palm dragged down the outside of your thigh in a comforting motion. 

Bucky’s fingers twitched against your chest, pressing closer. He took slow breaths in time with yours, his eyes closed as he listened. Rain crashed gently against the fresh straw of the hut, trailing off and pooling in the grass outside. 

You trailed a hand down Bucky’s back, petting his cold skin. He trembled, whether from the weather, or from his own panic, you didn’t know. You never really knew what was going on in his head.

And neither did he, as he pressed you into the mattress, cradling you close. He couldn’t make sense of himself. Of what you’d done. Of what he felt.

He knew he felt something. Something foreign and warm and achingly tender. Something reserved just for you. 

He knew when he saw you, he felt he could breathe easier. He knew the feeling of your touch trailing over his skin felt like electricity. He knew the sound of your voice made him feel safe. 

That you made him feel safe. In a way nothing ever had. 

He knew he didn’t want to lose you. He didn’t want to break you. Break this. 

He pressed his wet lips to your throat, his eyes squeezed shut against his racing mind. You shushed him quietly, pressing your cheek to the crown of his head. 

You wouldn’t let him retreat. You wouldn’t let him run. 

So he sank into you and sighed shakily against your skin. The tension rippling down his spine eased, just a fraction.

You swallowed your words and did what you knew how to do best; be there.

A/N: It happened!!!!! I hope you guys like how it worked out. I originally wasn't intending on having them kiss yet, but it just felt right. It felt safe, and ready. Comment your thoughts! 18+ MDNI

Wanna add again, that if you are a minor or have an empty/ageless bio, please no not interact. Thank you.

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[promise-of-soup]

┊┊❁ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. ｡˚ Picking Favourites°︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

☆Synopsis: (Off-screen) The Ghouls have grown frustrated attempting to figure out who your favourite is among them. You have been repeating the same thing: "I don't pick favourites", but do you actually?

AKA: Jiro Kirisaki, your closest friend among the Ghouls, has been acting a bit strange lately, despite this, he has remained the only Ghoul not to ask you who your favourite is, does he know?

☆Tags? Jiro Kirisaki x Reader, lots of pining, MC refered to as 'girl' and 'she', no physical descriptions but MC is shorter than Jiro, Kaito is hella jealous (I always imagine that he's extra jealous if MC likes Jiro), Lucas is there too, physical affection, fluff, suggestive but not directly, you and Jiro share a bed, Haru mention, Ed mention, Rui mention, this kinda builds on my Jiro affection headcanons post, a bit unedited because yes, potential for part two :)

☆Notes: this might be a part one if I feel like writing more of this, I am also not opposed to making smut within this same scenario if you'd like me to, this is a bit all over the place ngl, atm since my blog is new I am doing non-smut stuff first... CAN YOU GUYS TELL I LIKE JIRO????

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Pale morning light gently touches your eyelids, having entered your currently messy dorm room through the beautiful window overhead. You blink awake the day. Everything is warm. It had been a long week, this feels nice, relaxing.

The scent of wood faintly radiates off the floor planks, having been warmed by the very sunlight that had woken you up. Your blanket has been warmed by the comfort of a much needed night's sleep; the likes of which you have not felt for a long time. Your body itself is encompassed with another kind of warmth: it is heavy upon your limbs. Your eyes go wide at once when you realize how such warmth came to surround you: a pair of large arms hold you in place from behind, one is drapped over your own arm, and the other holds your waist with a loose grip that proves to be enough to keep you from wiggling away. The figure's long legs are adjacent to yours, and its head is buried into the crook of your neck, leaving a warm spot where quiet breathes slowly feather air onto your skin. At what point of the night has he gotten this close?

When Jiro first suggested he sleeps over before Anomalous Combat class he had pitched the idea as a non-intrusive way to "increase effeciency", this makes sense, of course, because the class happens to be relatively early in the morning, in a location that is quite close to your dorm room, and he was already walking you to it every week with no exceptions. So clearly if he slept over in your dorm the night before, he wouldn't need to wake up so early to make it in time, and could just go straight to class with you. Right?

What he failed to mention is that this would entail holding you against him so tightly, he specifically said he sleeps very still and would keep to his designated side of the bed, after all, you insisted he slept on the bed. You're unsure if you should push his arms away and fall to the floor coughing in shock, or if you should enjoy the fleeting time you have been blessed with to be this close to him. He's so warm, and his hands are so soft against you... it would be really difficult to push him away too, he's so strong, you wouldn't want to wake him up so suddenly, he barely gets to sleep for this long. So you just take it all in: the way his soft hair presses against your bare skin through a small gap in your pajama shirt, the way his fingers flutter ever-so-gently against you, how his chest rises and falls against your back; you're so aware of every slight movement he makes, and can tell that he is about to wake up and take it all away from you, but nothing prepares you for the manner at which he wakes.

"G'morning..." the edges of Jiro's lips brush against your neck when he speaks, his voice rough and deeper than usual, causing your entire body to shiver at once as your hands clasp around nothing and your face heats up.

He can tell, he always can, so he giggles, making sure to press even further into you when he does, so that his lips are directly against your skin and the sound echoes through your entire system and leaves a mark in your heart.

"G-Good morning" you respond, as best as you can.

Jiro doesn't falter, nor does he take his hands away from you. In fact, he tightens his hold, directly inhaling your scent in a manner that is both sharp and obvious as he shifts so that his torso and your torso are folded together, digs his fingers into your waist, and chuckles into your neck again. Your mind reassures you that he's simply moving around in a sleepy state, he's just woken up, he can't tell what he's doing, nor can he tell that he is pressing against you. You flinch, shocked. You're just friends, this is a natural thing men go through, he's not doing it on purpose. But he's not moving away, has he not noticed?

He shifts again, ever so slightly, and you feel his length through the thick layers of fabric that seperate you. It is echoing through your core and you cough, using all the strength you can master to open his hands up like a door and to step through it, away from the bed, muttering about how you're going to be late for class if you don't make haste to get ready or whatever and stuff.

The fucker has the audacity to smile up at you, telling you to go get ready first and turning around to lay on his back like he owns the place.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

You lock yourself in the bathroom, splashing your face with cold water, but it remains ever as hot, and no amount of cold water cools it down, it seems.

You week has been so difficult. You have been dragged to here and there, told to do this and that, and all under the guise of the same motive: so that those who had requested your "help" could batter you with the same question, over and over and over again.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━━◦○◦━◦○◦━

"I'm so your favourite." Haru elbowed your side as you arose from picking a stray cup off the ground. He had requested your assistance with feeding the anomolous animals that day, and at that point you had spent what had to be at least three hours running around Jabberwock with various bags of dry food.

"I don't pick favourites." you told Haru the same thing you have been telling everyone, and watched his bright smile dwindle down into a forced frown.

"C'mon," He urged, grabbing your sides and shaking you ever so slightly, "There has to be someone?" his tone was questioning, but it was definetly a statement.

"I love you all equally." you insisted.

The same exact situation, perhaps with different levels of intensity, kept repeating itself, buried under layers of forced labour and endless tasks.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Of course you have a favourite, and it's obvious too. You've slept in the same room as some of the other Ghouls while on a mission before, but you can't imagine letting anyone other than Jiro sleep in your actual dorm, let alone in the same bed as you. He makes you feel safe, more so than anyone else you've come to know, and he's always there for you, no matter what you need him for.

Hell, even the fact that he's here now, in the other room, is proof of how he is there for you: he's been kind enough to walk with you to class every week with no fail, and suggested to sleep over just to make it easier to do that, it's not his fault he's so tired all the time, you wouldn't want to make him walk over here so early in the morning, and Yuri barely lets him sleep. This is a nice thing for him, you went and made it weird with your heated face and suggestive thoughts.

You feel the ache in your muscles, and the dread you've felt all week begins to climb up your body again: yet another day of being asked to pick favourites. You wish they just let it go already. It's worse now, too because even worse than the ache in your muscles is the ache in your chest, your face is still hot, seemingly having spread to the rest of your body with an unstopable force of awareness from what had transpired earlier.

Nothing happened.

You reassure yourself, but in all honestly, you are kind of mad at yourself that nothing happened. You shouldn't be.

So you just sigh and do your best to brush your hair into a ponytail, accidently touching along the spot on your neck where his lips linger. Taking off your pajama to replace it with a tracksuit is making you imagine his hands running over your skin, and even brushing your teeth is difficult, because you can't help but think of something else that could have been in your mouth if you were stupid enough to stay. This is not normal, he's your friend, you should be ashamed of yourself... so you cover your face with your hands and let out a, very quiet, groan of annoyance.

When you leave the bathroom, you are greeted with the sight of your friend Jiro sitting on the edge of your bed, shirtless. Searching his duffle bag for the upper components of his tracksuit. He sits up when he hears you approach, leaning into his arms and nonchalantly displaying his toned body, talking casually.

"This is the best sleep I've had in a while," he confesses, "Maybe you affect my sleep like you do my eating and drinking," he nods, "curious."

"Maybe." You respond, averting your gaze. Well, if you help his sleep-deprived self sleep better, then it justifies everything, right? Allowing him to sleep over again would be a good thing, you're literally just helping your friend, "Glad I could be of help..."

He chuckles again, and continues searching for the missing part of his tracksuit, "I apologize if I got a bit handsy in my sleep."

Oh, so he does know, you still can't look at him, but you do your best to mummble a "no, no it's alright," finished with an uncomfortable laugh.

Eventually, after Jiro gets fully dressed, and you pack all your needed equipment for the day, both of you grab your respective bags and make way towards class.

You sure did sleep kind of late today; you might be frustrated but at least you're refreshed, and if anyone asks you annoying questions, you would at least have more energy to deflect them.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Kaito and Luca have already started stretching in the enclosed field, even before Professor Moby showed up, and they are quick to greet Jiro and you. The two of you drop your bags on the corner of a bench they had already claimed, making it a neat pile of four bags. You bury your hands in your pockets and huddle into yourself from the chilled wind that rams itself into you, and when you are close enough to Kaito and Luca, and are just about to ask them how they're doing and carry on as usual, Jiro suddenly blurts a "I think I left my water bottle in your dorm."

You turn rigid, turning around like a plank of wood to face him, as Luca smiles in confusion and Kaito's face turns a shade of red you've only ever seen on tomatoes before.

"He- He? What?!" Kaito screechs, "Wh-Why would he leave something at your place?" he sweats with every word, unsure if he's afraid, jealous, or purely confused.

Before you can form any part of a sentence, Jiro answers with his signiture unbothered monotone, but his words no-doubt carefully selected, "We slept together."

"You what?!" Kaito's voice comes out higher than a dog-whistle at this point.

Your face is hot again, but you do your best to calm the situation, "What he means to say is that he slept over."

"Yeah, sorry." Jiro agrees, scratching the back of his neck.

"St-still! He's a guy! Why would you let a guy sleep over in your dorm? You're a girl! Why him and not me?" Kaito mummbles incoherently, you can barely make out what he's saying, but honestly, you can't be bothered to try.

Truth be told, even if Jiro meant to say it in a way that would come across as suggestive, you don't like the idea of Kaito implying you're incapable of making decisions like these purely because you're a girl. "He's my friend, Kaito, I know what I'm doing."

Jiro hums.

"But still! he- the - hm? you? What if the-" Kaito tries to prove a point, you have no idea what that point is.

Regardless, Mobi shows up and class promptly begins.

You join in on as much as you can: doing the never-ending warm up, dodging projectiles Mobi hurls at you, and even a small part of the standard practice; cheering Luca on as he takes fiercly battles a scary piece of cardboard.

When you can't go on, not because you can't, but because there's nothing you can do, you take a sit on the bench and watch your three friends struggle against an ongrowing array of moving targets. Jiro looks so handsome slashing through things with his massive chainsaw, it's such a cool weapon in your opinion and the way that he manouvers it just serves to highlight how strong he is, you bet he could pick you up just as easily and-

Friend.

You clear your throat and continue to watch, trying to focus on Kaito instead, but it is very difficult to not look at Jiro, they're standing close together so you can always pretend to be looking elsewhere, and you are not checking out his sweaty form and how good his muscles look under the warm sun, or how his pale skin almost glistens, he looks so focused with his sharp red eyes staring ahead and his movements following such clear pathways to perfectly attack anything coming his way. Urgh.

Your phone pings, "Grandpa Ed💜", good, a distraction.

----

"Dear MC😃, I hear👂that Rui and company👬are trying to figure out who your 💖favourite💖 Ghoul🧟 is?💭 Is it me?💭"

----

Seems you can't escape even when you're not physically there... You respond back to Ed with the same old answer, and he responds with a sad emoji. At least this did distract you enough for class to end.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

You all make your way to the changing room, yes, changing room singular. Darkwick's lack of diversity in Ghouls has led to the men's changing room being the only opperational one, but you had grown accustomed to changing into your uniform in a shower booth and waiting for your friends to finish getting dressed before you step out. It's just your friends, so it isn't that big of a deal.

You are quick to change into your uniform and just as quick to exit back into the main room: Kaito searches for something in his bag, Luca is drinking water in the corner, and Jiro is slumped over a bench with his back to the lockers, head drooping to the side, his uniform shirt unbuttoned, and his expression sickly.

"Jiro-Kun?" you ask, rushing over, "Are you alright?" You sit beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He turns to look at you, and so does Kaito, and weakly responds "Could you please help me get dressed?"

You nod with a concerned smile, "of course."

With a careful hand you begin to button up his shirt from the bottom to the top, it takes a bit of a struggle given the awkward to manouver position he is sitting in, and also the general proximity between you two, but you do your best because your friend needs your help.

He groans in pain at nothing, and you silently coo at him, forgetting the fact that you're not alone in the room. As you reach the top button of his shirt, he grabs your wrist suddenly, keeping you there. his hand shakes slightly with a weakness and you smile gently at him, keeping your hand where he holds it and reaching out with your other hand to your open bag, grabbing your water bottle and lifting it up to him like a wounded animal. You help him tilt the bottle, now with both hands, and he takes a few slow sips from it, careful to not attempt too much at once, some of it drips down his chin and onto his neck: you wipe it off with the corner of your blazer and smile at him.

You ask, "Do you need me to take you back to Mortkranken?"

"I think I'll be alright," he reassures you, placing his hand on top of yours again and carefully smoothing his finger along your knuckles, "Thanks for helping me."

"What are you doing?" Kaito jolts, "You- You're, I-"

Oh you, there are other people in the room.

Luca cuts in, trying to make use of his brilliant social awareness, "Is Jiro your favourite Ghoul?"

"What? Of course he isn't! It's a- I- the-" Kaito answers for you, once again red and sweating.

You look at Jiro, hoping to finally judge his reaction on the matter. After all, he has remained the sole Ghoul to not ask you that question even once. His face remains blank and hard to read, nice.

"I don't pick favourites." You respond, smiling up at Luca and Kaito, your hand is very much still being held by Jiro.

"But if you had to choose?" Kaito questions you with a cocked eyebrow, fists clenched and knuckles spasaming.

Jiro stares at you, expression still a mystery, and you clear your throat with diplomacy, "I love you all equally."

You do your best here, because not doing your best here might accidently start a sequel to the infamous clash, and you do not want to be caught in the middle of that. Similar to how all Ghouls have reacted to the same line you had been reciting all week, two of the three Ghouls in the changing room give you a slight pout and a disappointed sigh, the third, though, is smiling very faintly; the kind of faint smile he does where only someone who has stared at his face for as long as you have could tell apart from his usual expression. This is preplaxing you, because why would he be smiling at this?

"I changed my mind," he coughs suddenly, "I think I need you to take me to Mortkranken."

You give Jiro's head a slight pat, help him up until he is standing straight and towering over you, and greet your two friends goodbye as you make your way out of the room, leaving them confused and cringed out of their heads.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

The two of you walk side by side in comfortable silence. This silence always falls between you, and you enjoy it, because it's a rare occurance for you nowadays to get any kind of silence, let alone a comfortable one that is accompanied by a friendly, cozy, aura.

"So," he breaks it, observing you from the corner of his red eyes.

You fidget slightly, but turn your head to look at him nonetheless, he carries the same smile from earlier, looking ever as bright and not at all sick.

"Why is everyone so keen on figuring out who your favourite Ghoul is?" Jiro's tone is coy, unsure, and still somehow knowing in a way you can't place yet.

"I wish I knew," you respond candidly, "I don't know why it matters that much."

He nods, "Do you even have a favourite to begin with?"

Your face heats up for the nth time today, and you fumble to formulate a response that doesn't give it away, ending on a really unfortunate, "No?" which sounds unconfident and forced.

He laughs at you. Really laughs, like he always does when you witness something scary; screaming and huddling to his side. He laughs and places a hand on your hair, ruffling it, mimicing the way you always do the same to him, and then his eyes close from the force of his laughter, and he confirms, "I knew it."

"Knew what?" You ask, letting him slide his hand from your hair down to your shoulders, you know what he had figured out, but you don't want to say it just to retain the benefit of the doubt.

"I'm your favourite." he chuckles.

With a sigh, you nuzzle into his side as the two of you continue to walk, "Yeah."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

A/N: YEEEE HAWW lemme know if you want a part two bbgirls, sorry for the lack of editing I have to work my adult job of editing lmao

[cheesecake-44]

Simon vs ghost

Simon 'ghost' riley x reader idea

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

Ghost didn't do relationships. He vowed it after he lost everything.

You aren't apart of the 141 but your squad works with them regularly.

You a ghost are partnered up a few times and get along well.

As time goes on whenever your teams work together eventually you begin to seek each other out.

Going out to a bar to celebrate a win, you and Simon can be found chatting in a booth off in some corner watching everyone else.

Late night everyone else tucked in, you and Simon sit outside sharing a cigarette.

You happen to be staying at the same base, so you share meals together.

At this point everyone around the pair knows what's up.

You two know what's going on and what everyone else assumes your both too chicken to be the one to make the next step.

You have both discussed what you want to do out side of the millary and you both want the same things.

But, being in the millary has its risks and both of you are afraid to admit that you want each other.

Fear of the other dieing in battle keeps you apart. Like admiting you love them would give them a death sentence.

On top of that neither of you want to admit your that attached putting up fronts of nonchalants to protect yourself from being hurt.

The heat between you constantly rises, until on night it all boils over.

Your in a motel in a small town try to lay low. You both head out side for a smoke, you light yours and he leans in using yours to light his own.

There steady eye contact and tension that you could cut with a knife.

Eventually you go back inside to go to bed, you booked a room knowing it only had one queen size bed reasoning that it's cheaper. Besides you soldiers it's not weird to sleep beside one and other. Simon agreed a little to fast.

The next morning you woke up in each other's arms. It was simon who cracked first.

He confessed he wanted more of you what you two had together and that he didn't want to keep waiting till you had missions together to spend time with each other. You agreed... a little to fast.

People around the two of you noticed a slight difference you both felt a little lighter happier.

Soap was the first to congratulate you on finally getting together. The both teams took you both out of a night to celebrate.

The relationship went on for years with you popping the question one Sunday morning. Simon said yes a little to quickly.

You didn't have a big wedding just you your team the 141 and a few friends and family.

By this point you both have a house together, just a small one off in the middle of nowhere with a nice yard for your dog.

Things couldn't be better, until Simon's out on a mission told to provide back up for allie forces. Him a soap are given a rendezvous spot to meet with the allies.

What he finds is a war zone that the battle had just left behind looking in to the meeting building his heart drops.

You sit with your back against the wall gun pointing at the door free hand on you bleeding side.

You drop the gun when you see him. He never ran so fast than when he ran to your side.

He desperately trys to stop the bleeding to no avail, you seem to be calm though keeping your eyes steady on him.

You gently take his mask off say that you want to see your husband. You take his lips in to your own as you slowly fade.

By the time soap gets there he finds simon holding your body like its the only thing that has ever existed.

Simon riley died a second time in his life. This time for good.

Ghost on the other hand lives. He never did relationships anyway.

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

What do y'all think 🌝

Also lmk if you guys want more to the trace of sadness series

[ins4-tiable]

Little Drabble about awkward reader with also awkward CEO nanami

Fuckin' hell.."

Your umbrella was stuck. STUCK! Stuck as 10 pounds of rain practically flooded the streets. You'd been struggling with the darn thing for a better half of an hour and were truly debating just chucking it and running for it, but unfortunately, you would probably be refused at the bus stop. And you doubted you could run 10 miles and avoid getting sick.  

"Ugh!" you shrieked, smashing your umbrella out of pure frustration. It was truly inspiring that it hadn't broken at this point, you'd think banging it against hard concrete would've done the trick, but supposedly not…

“Are you alright..?”  

See, what happened next truly wasn’t your fault. Everyone knows it's not polite to stand behind someone, especially when they're clearly in distress. And especially especially when the normal, average person would have gone home hours ago. 

With a pop, Your possessed umbrella that had it out for you snapped open. Striking the blond gentleman right in the nuts.

"Oh my god!"  Blond hair dropped to the floor, clutching desperately at the wounded area as you followed. And to make it all a million times worse, the person you just assaulted was your boss! The boss you had to see every day for the foreseeable future! It seemed as if your future at this company had officially ended!

"I'm so, so, so, sorry!" You pleaded, fracticly hovering over the man unsure of whether or not you should touch him. He shook his head. 

"No.." he groaned ' I-I'm fine"  

“Are you sure..? I- I could go get you some ice! Or the medkit!” You reasoned

You were sure groaning and practically curling into yourself was the picture of health, but you didn't want it on your boss’s record that you didn’t even attempt to help. Even after injuring him in a notoriously sensitive spot. 

Bits of your hair were practically falling out from its roots from the pure stress of the situation. You considered running away or collapsing to the floor yourself, but instead you just frantically hovered over him. Unsure if you should be helping him up, patting his back, or touching him at all. The man groaned as he finally began to regain his footing, “If you’re really sorry you’ll let me.. Take you home” 

You stared down at the black leather in utter disbelief. Never in your wildest dreams would you have imagined talking to your boss, much less sitting in his car alone, the offending umbrella wet and sitting at your feet as he drove you home. Yet there you sat, in the nice car you'd probably have to save for years to afford, the comfortable, nice car, as the air vents wafted his soft woody cologne all over you.

You wondered if he smelled as good as his car.

"So, um." The awkward silence was absolutely horrible. You could’ve guessed it would be. I mean, what does a hot rich man have to say to some worker in his company? "...Nice, I mean , horrible weather, yeah?" 

He glanced at you with a chuckle, “Yes wonderful weather.” He was definitely making fun of you.

Your face bloomed hot, fidgeting awkwardly with your hands. You turned your head to thank him, yet, when you looked up he was already looking at you. That's when you noticed that car had slowed down to a stop. You glanced out the window, And you were at your apartment! 

“Oh..!” You chuckled nervously, he was probably staring at you waiting for you to get out. After all, you did smack him in the balls with an umbrella…

“I suppose I'll get out now! Sorry for what happened to your um.. Privates..” You pushed the door open quickly reaching for the umbrella sitting at your feet. Yet, before you could comprehend what he was doing he reached over you, placing another, assumingly his, umbrella in your hands, smoothly pulling it open. “ I’d rather not have a repeat, don't you agree?” 

You almost feel his breath on your ear, and his hands on yours. His smell overwhelms your senses more than it already does. With a quickness you never have, you shot out of the car, almost smacking your head on the roof. 

The rain almost soaked you before it clicked that you had an umbrella in your hand. And if today couldn't get more embarrassing you just stared at him in silence, not even closing his car door, just, staring. You could all but hope he couldn't see the steam rising off your cheeks. 

“Is this an invitation to walk you to your door?” 

“I-”

“I’m kidding.” He snorted, a genuine smile on his face. 

“Well.. um, haha! I’ll be on my way then!” You looked at him, and your eyes dated back to your door, before you looked back at him. “ Thank you... Oh, and, I'll return your umbrella to you tomorrow, no worries!”

“just keep it It’s no problem.” He nodded 

“Well, goodbye then!” 

“Goodbye.” 

You rushed back to your door, waving at him one more time before you shut it behind you. 

He hopped you didn't see how he finally let his face redden after you closed the door. 

[legalandnotease]

This Sam Stan @dragonflylair is trying to be clever in the comments section. Since they all regurgitate the same points over and again I think it might be beneficial to post a response here, so you can all use these as counterpoints to their nonense.

My responses start in red to distinguist them from the screenshots

You do know there's not a single shred of evidence that the Thunderbolts are actually working for Val, right? It's purely speculation based on no context whatsoever. Anything could have happened in 14 months. But muh her building" means shit. That building used to be Stark Tower. Did Tony Stark run the OG Avengers? Nope. He was purely the money guy. No objection to the billionaire former arms dealer bankrolling the Avengers?

"oh but he didn't do that anymore!" Irrelevant. Tony Stark's family made thier money - money Tony used to buy the Avengers stuff and build his tech- from selling weapons used to genocide people all over the world. Its literally blood money.

Yet Sam had no problem accepting little gifts from that. Such as Redwing. Nice profiting off human misery there, Sam.

Sam didn't get Ross locked up. I watched your movie and the only reason he was incarcerated was because he turned out to be unfit for office due to turning into a fucking giant red rage monster in public and trashing the White House. We're literally told Ross turned himself in after that and had to give up his office. Sam didn't make him. Sam had the good fortune of Ross doing everything in public in front of millions of witnesses and already being a world renowned celebrity operating in an official capacity with more or less unlimited resources at his disposal. The Thunderbolts had neither. They were unwanted disposable nobodies at the margins of society who could be murdered with impunity and literally nobody world care. They had little money. No resources. No protection. They literally had to get Yelena's dad to drive them home in his car because unlike Sam they couldn't just summon a helicarrier.

Its funny and ironic at he same time that you think a homeless Meth addict and an enslaved child soldier are the most priveleged people on earth. This very marginalization is the thing which made them vulnerable. Val picked Bob becuase nobody would miss a guy like him when he disappeared.

By forming an official team with government sponsorship the Thunderbolts at least had a measure of legal protection and couldn't be just killed by the first bounty hunter who crossed thier path. At least they had access to *some* of the resources Sam does to operate in some kind of organized capacity.

And before you scream about that, I'll remind you the OG Avengers were created by Nick Fury at the behest of SHIELD which was literally a government run intelligence organisation specialising in enhanced people. And has a penchant for human experimentation. SHIELD that is. Natasha and Clint literally talk about being government employees because they wor for SHIELD as well as being Avengers. Isn't it weird how you're all forgetting that and screaming as though government funding for Avengers is a new thing Bucky invented to screw over Sam?

Isn't it funny also that Sam Stans suddenly consider the Avengers an elite club with admission that must be restricted to those Sam deeems "worthy". We would want common riff-raff in there now would we? Lowers the tone to have ex-criminals assassins and failed lab experiments like Hulk and Natasaha Romanoff on the team doesn't it? Sorry did I say Hulk and Nat? I meant Yelena and Bob.

So I am gonna wade in on the controversy surrounding the Thunderbolts PC scene.

A lot of people are angry about Bucky and Sam's apparent fallout over the use of The Avengers name- and inevitiably the blame falls on Bucky.

Honestly? I think the real issue is that some fans think Bucky and Sam's relationship is still the same as it was The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, when Sam was basically Bucky's only friend and Bucky was dependent on him.

4-5 years have passed in universe since then, and Bucky now has other friends, connections and his own team. Which means he can't just go around making decisions without consulting them (he's not Tony Stark after all). He has to take account of what his teammates actually want: its not just about Sam anymore.

Its kind of interesting in a way: fans have said that Bucky needs to have his own life and make his own choices and yet the moment he does something which Sam disapproves of, he's lambasted for it.

Which is why I think the real issue isn't that Bucky and Sam have apparently had a falling out: its that Bucky has stepped out of Sam's shadow and is doing his own thing. He's not just Same's sidekick anymore. He's making his own choices, forming his own team, in the public eye as his own man.

Its not just Sam though: we've been so used to Bucky being the supporting role and playing second fiddle to someone else for so long that now he's acting independently its jarring, even shocking.

Bucky doesn't have to have Sam (or anyone else's) approval or permission anymore. Nobody has exclusive rights to tell Bucky what he can do, who he can associate with and who he can work for. That makes people mad.

And don't even get me started about the people loudly complaining about Bucky/The Thunderbolts "working for Val" because that's not what's happening even in the movie.

The Post-Credit scene is set 14 months after the movie: anything could have happened in that time. Val might not even still be alive at that point. Even if she is, it seems the Thunderbolts are only using her for money but she definately doesn't control them (they have the knowledge to bring her down after all).

If your issue is government control then you clearly have a short memory. In Brave New World Ross was asking Sam to form his own Avengers team. Meaning they would have been subject to the government and Ross: who was as bad as if not worse than Val.

Nobody raised objection to that. So, apparently, Sam creating an Avengers team at the behest of a politician and subject to the government isn't a problem.

But Bucky leading a team which pay lip service to the government but are really autonomous and under nobody's control except their own is obectionable.

Yeah that's called a double standard.

[tiny-minecraft-rabbit]

For rancher prompts, maybe some rancher gt? Like, borrower Jimmy is cold and desperate and so decides to take a risk and go to Tango while he's alseep to try and warm up but it turns out Tango isn't actually asleep?

The power went out sometime during the storm. It was the middle of the cold season, and the power was out. His little nook in the wall was freezing, so much so he could see his breath. The insulation packed around him had only kept the space warm for a few hours and he's already gone through the two spare tea light candles he had—nothing more than blackened metal trays and the ashy remains of a wick.

He had to find some way to get properly warm, and he had to do it quickly.

He had hoped that just taking a walk around through the walls would help—getting his muscles working, blood flowing. He was shivering the entire time. It wasn't working.

At this rate he was going to die and, frankly, Jimmy was not really in the mood to die just yet.

It was time for some stupid decisions. He opened the door to Tango's room, turning off his flashlight and setting it aside as he looked over the moonlit room. Tango was in his bed, asleep, and Jimmy hastily looked for the heater that must have been there. Tango wouldn't have stayed in the house if he didn't have a means of getting warm. However, the room felt just as cold as his own and there was no warm orange light of a space heater. There was, sitting on the floor next Tango's bed, a battery generator.

He quickly crossed the room, pulling his sweater tighter around him, and climb on top of the generator. He had hoped it would be warm, but the plastic was only vaguely not cold because his own hands were freezing. Something was plugged into though and he followed the chord up to the bed, climbing it all the way up until he was standing on the mattress and just a few inches from Tango's massive bean body.

The chord slipped under the blanket. He went to do the stupidest thing ever and burrow under the blanket to find where it led and felt the heat of blanket. He blinked down at the fabric, running his hands over it and feeling heat coming from some sort of wiring that was tucked into the fabric. A heated blanket. Beans were blooming geniuses.

He climbed onto the blanket, laid his full body down on top of it, and sighed happily as he was finally soaked in heat. He told himself that he wouldn't fall asleep—falling asleep here would be just as much of a death sentence as sleeping in his freezing nook.

He was out within seconds.

------

Tango slowly let himself breath again, having been holding it as he watched the miniature guy climb into his bed and make himself super, ultra comfy in the warm space.

The heated blanket was barely doing its job, in Tango's humble opinion, as ears and nose were still very exposed on the fact that he had to breathe. Sure, his arms and legs and toesies were nice and toasty, but he really should have invested in a space heater. He just couldn't properly get to sleep with his face freezing off despite the rest of him being warm. If the whole power outage wasn't fixed by tomorrow afternoon, he'd be investing in a trip to Skizzy and Impulse's and demanding their spare bedroom instead of trying to tough it out here.

He guesses he'll also have to offer the mini guy the same trip to Imp and Skizz's, considering it was very clear he was just as cold as Tango was.

He also had a lot of questions for him– Like, a lot of questions. Little dude randomly appearing in his bedroom with the sheer intention of commandeering his heated blanket was not on his Power Outage Bingo card. He needed to know the How–What–Where–Why of this like immediately.

The miniature guy shifted, turning in his sleep so he was pressed against Tango's curled arm. Tango very carefully lifted his other arm out from under the blanket and set it on the other side of him, creating a nice cocoon of warmth.

Tango would ask all his questions in the morning. The little dude clearly needed some rest.

[pixeldistractions]

These coastal mornings were a crisp fifty-five degrees in late November, but the heated pool water felt almost bath-like in contrast. Jordan loved his nomad life, and there wasn’t much about a sticks-and-bricks home that piqued Jordan’s interest…

But this pool.

Honestly, damn. What a way to wake up in the morning.

Nessa went off to work again. She would take Thanksgiving Day off, but not today. Jack’s work afforded him a little more leniency in his schedule, and that worked out well for their family. So Jack took them all out to show off the town. They toured gardens that would be lovely in another season, but now were dried husks of a brighter time. “It’s a few days until December,” he explained with a shrug.

They understood.

But were Jordan and Maria both aware of their growing permanency here? They had been settled down in the same campground for four weeks now. That wasn’t very long, honestly, but it was comfortable. It was nice. And maybe they had stayed in Sierra Nova long enough that their friends thought they had made a home there? Would they be here in the spring, still close enough to pop over for a weekend and see the gardens in full bloom and the splash park alive for the summer heat? They hadn’t decided that, exactly. But Jordan was mindful of the way life could manifest a decision for you if you didn’t make up your own mind.

Next, they enjoyed one of the many playgrounds. Aaron showed a growing interest in soccer, so Jordan helped him practice. And Maria put her all into playing a very passionate space monster.

After the playgrounds, they visited the rec center for activities and lunch. Jack’s boys were already signed up for scouts. Jack, of course, was the proud leader of Griffon Scouts Troop 101 in the Pacific District. “She’d love it,” Jack said of starry-eyed Johanna who was already sizing up a uniform of her own.

The scouts were a nation-wide network, so JoJo could pop in with a group in whichever state they happened to be visiting. She would have access to structured activities and socialization with her peers. And Maria made a mental note to mention all of this to her parents, who still had concerns about the whole homeschooling thing. 

JoJo couldn’t stop talking about her first meetup, and who would take her? Maria shrugged at her outdoorsy boyfriend and said, “I think that’s definitely more your thing.”

Gladly, he would. He tried not to let it feel bittersweet that he always wanted to be a scouts dad when his own boys were little. They would have loved it, if Colette had let them.

So they all sat down to lunch, and by midday, little Harper was finished and crying for her nap. The big kids were spent, too, and they would also crash on the couches to rest up for their big sleepover tonight. And Maria and Jordan needed to freshen up for their date.

They headed back to the house.

She wouldn’t tell Jordan this, but one thing Maria really missed since living in the camper was really long, really hot showers. The kind you stand under while your skin blooms pink and you reflect on your whole life and plan out your entire future for the next twenty years, give or take. That, and to have a sink in the bathroom where she could brush her teeth and not have to spit where she also washed her dishes. The camper was great, but its water tank held about 10 minutes at 100 degrees, then it promptly went cold. And sometimes she just wanted to stand under the steaming water and get clean all the way to her bones. 

Lou’s voice lectured in her head, You’re gonna dry out your skin. 

And Maria thought, Don’t tell me what to do, Lou, because this is heavenly. 

She should probably pay the Phoenixes back for the water bill, but somehow she figured they could probably afford it.

— boxes and squares #5.3: hindsight is a bitch, part 6.3/10

next -> // 5.3 start // index

[detta-pica]

“Okay, enough stalling,” Satoru says, arms wrapped too tightly around Suguru’s neck. “I’m here for one reason and one reason only: to make Suguru look pretty for once in his life. Utahime, where do we start?” Just like that, their harsh words are forgotten, and they assess Suguru with twin predatory looks. What follows is an experience Suguru will never quite recover from. His pores get cleansed. His face is smeared with layers of funny-smelling, unpleasantly cold substances that he doesn’t trust, but isn’t about to say so and get accused of cowardice. His hands are moisturised, his cuticles tidied, his nails painted a glossy black. Suguru can’t stop looking at them, how they reflect the light when he angles them. The effect might be worth the discomfort of having cold liquid smeared over his nails and drying slowly. “Does he look pretty yet?” Shoko asks, grin shit-eating, even though she probably shouldn’t be bunching up her skin under her face mask. She’s on her second beer and the only effect it’s had on her so far is that she’s gotten meaner. Satoru, who has been watching Suguru watch his nails with the smuggest smile on his face, suddenly leans in close, almost nose to nose. Suguru recoils, but Satoru follows, until he’s all but straddling Suguru’s things. “I think,” he says slowly, chin held between his thumb and forefinger, “that we’re not quite there yet.” “Wow, thanks.” Suguru is leaned back against the bed so far that it digs unpleasantly into his spine. “If you hate my face that much, stop looking at it.” “That’s not it. Your face is fine, but I can see its hidden potential. We’ll make a hot girl out of you, Suguru.” Which is how Suguru ends up being subjected to more makeup products he can’t name. Why does his entire face get smeared with skin-coloured stuff? He doesn’t know, but at least it doesn’t smell or feel too unpleasant. The mascara he understands, and also the lip gloss. Then there’s rouge--he thinks--and eye shadow. It’s honestly nice to sit there, hair pulled back with a Cinnamoroll headband, eyes closed, and have Satoru’s hands all over his face. Also various brushes and stuff, those aren’t bad, either. At the end of it, Suguru feels a little ridiculous and a lot pampered. Shoko gleefully hands him a hand mirror, and--well. That sure is the general shape of his face. “Huh,” Suguru decides, and can’t stop staring. Mostly he’s shocked that Satoru hasn’t taken the opportunity to make Suguru look like a clown, literal or otherwise. But he hasn’t. Instead, the makeup is subtle and genuinely highlights Suguru’s better features. He could go out like this, he thinks, and only feel vaguely guilty about the indulgence. “What do you mean, huh?” Satoru whines, tugging Suguru’s headband up and snapping it against the side of his head. “This took hard work, Suguru! Appreciate it.” “No, I’m just--it looks good. Thank you?” Suguru doesn’t know the protocol here. “Do you want me to return the favour?” Satoru’s grin is blinding. “Hell yes. I love to watch you fail.” Suguru has no choice but to tackle him for that. The girls scramble out of the way as Satoru’s laughter fills the room, too loud in the small space. Suguru continues sitting on him as he applies lip gloss--and immediately gets stuck. He can’t come up with a reason to cover up Satoru’s perfect skin. Rouge would probably look nice, but Satoru’s natural, splotchy blushes are so much cuter. Mascara is out of the question--they haven’t bought any shades that would work with Satoru’s unreal eyelashes. Defeated, Suguru grabs blue eye shadow and uses it very conservatively. Satoru’s eyes already look bug-like from the wrong angle. There’s no reason to make them seem even bigger.

When I said I'm happily stuck writing fics for fandom events, I was so serious. This one's going to be for @switchmasinjuly.

I know absolutely nothing about makeup or proper skincare, and am going purely off of pop culture and things I learned by reading fanfiction. Feedback is welcome 🙈

[starry-bi-sky]

on a completely separate note; shizun luo binghe with a disciple shen yuan who fell into the abyss??? *thinks about LBH canonically stealing SQQ's corpse for 5 years* he'd hallucinate i think. like, like visual and audial hallucinations.

Keeps thinking he's seeing SQQ in the corner of his eyes, or wandering between the trees, amongst a group of disciples. Thinks he hears him calling for him, but its just the wind or another disciple.

Gets Xiu Ya reforged but patently fucking refuses to make a sword mound. Because his disciple Is Not Dead :))) There was No Body. He's Not Dead. And If You keep Insisting That He Is, He's Gonna Skewer You :). He's holding onto Xiu Ya so he can return his most favored disciple's sword when he returns. It's on his hip right next to Zheng Yang where it's supposed to be.

Also this motherfucker?? does not sleep btw. He has the image of SQQ, wide eyed and hysterical and standing at the mouth of the abyss burned into his fucking eyelids. Can't use the dreamscape to escape it either because he keeps trying to save him and either he does and it's an incredibly cruel trick to wake up to, or he doesn't and he gets his heart broken in several different pieces again.

There is no convincing this man that Shen Qingqiu is dead. Absolutely nothing at all. He is buried so deep in denial that moles would be jealous of how deep he is. He keeps making tea for two in the bamboo house only to remember that it's just him. SQQ's fans are hiding everywhere, little reminders of his presence. He goes to wake up SQQ on the mornings he sleeps in-- only to find the room empty.

[moeblob]

[panbhonpan]

IT'S SATURDAY, YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS

nsmnmsndjsnmdsnmnsnmns helloooooooo

Its Saturday which means I get to see my lil silly bitchy nerd again, Oh I wonder what he might do now Hes probably going rabid idk - man

but yeh, man i miss him- He's gonna lose it- i'd say today but i dont wanna jinx it.

[lususnatura]

it hadn't even occurred to blamore that one could potentially use the green to create new human life-forms. however, if he did know that such a thing was on someone like ivy's mind... he would likely understand at least some of the devastation that came with her trying to do that and ultimately failing. whether it was a blessing or a curse was irrelevant at that moment — blamore didn't have anywhere near close the amount of power she had over plants. so, just the fact that ivy was able to feel their pain would be enough to make it pity the other. but in any case, the fact that his own bodily autonomy had essentially been taken from him because of the green was something horrifying, but it did connect him to other's experiences with it such as ivy's and alec holland's, or swamp thing's.

blamore looked down at the 'grippy socks' that the hospital had apparently found it necessary to clothe him with then. it was used to going either barefoot or running around in thin sandals, so it felt a bit odd; but it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that one this whole situation had blamore feeling odd. blamore had been nervous to reveal this information to harley before out of fear that she might not understand, after all, but it seemed like she actually thought very similarly to it. gender was a social construct that was constantly being re-shaped by society in terms of what was viewed as being 'masculine' or 'feminine.' but who even decided that such a thing needed to be defined in the first place, anyway?

he supposed that having such classifications allowed people to connect with people more easily in a way, but at the same time, it also divided people. blamore crossed his arms at the mention of french not making sense before feigning an incredulous scoff as if he was angry at harley, ❝ oh, my gosh. i can't believe you just said something that's completely true! you're such a bully for insulting my language like that, chère — i hope you know that, ❞ he very lightly pushed onto one of the other's shoulders then to continue putting on this act that it was offended when he really wasn't. blamore was merely messing around with her, as evidenced by the smile that it couldn't help but let spread across its lips.

whenever harley dove into the subject of gender then, he suddenly felt a lot less wary about sharing what he'd been keeing under wraps from her. and that was because he feared he might be rejected by her. but honestly, harley was one of the most nice people he'd met just overall — not even in only the criminal underworld of gotham — so reflecting back on it... blamore didn't know what it was so worried about now. a hum of approval left its lips at the way she pointed out that trying to put a label on different things in regard to what it meant to be male or female was kind of counterproductive (especially considering that could be a rather polarizing topic).

❝ yeah, i suppose you're right about that. but at the same time, the way in which society has created these 'norms' around gender have allowed people to feel like they have a community with others. though its at the expense of it being harder to define yourself as an individual and also to have harmful stereotypes tacked onto you sometimes, which... certainly doesn't make the whole idea seem good. i just have been experimenting with it for a while myself and its weird because, before i became this, i felt like people wouldn't respect the fact that i might want to be called different things so i held off from bringing it up.

but i guess becoming a plant monster hasn't been all bad in the way that its somehow given me more confidence about my gender. so, i wanted to tell you this eventually, but you can still call me your boyfriend if you want; though i would also like to be referred to using neutral pronouns, particularly 'it' or 'its' at times. do you think that that's something you could please do for me? ❞ blamore clasped its hands together in front of itself as if to say 'please' once more before nodding in response to what harley was telling it. ❝ i understand. and i'm more than happy with you being a tomboy, though i'd still be your partner if you ever changed your mind about things. it also makes me happy to hear that you're willing to accept others like that so long as they're not hurting anyone else; that's a good quality to have. ❞

his bony tail curled up to resemble a '6' against his body as he coughed into his elbow, grabbing the sandals he came to the hospital in and taking off the socks with a groan. they were starting to irritate the lichen on his feet, so he changed to tying the sandals around his ankles and walking around in them. ❝ yeah, they told me that the chest tube takes two days... m-minimum, to get all the excess air out of your lungs. that branch had another seed attached to it, so its obvious to me now that this isn't an isolated thing. ❞ blamore coughed once more into its elbow before throwing the seed into the bag it had. it looked confused at the others comment, tilting its head at harley.

❝ growth and attachment? you mean, like, what would happen if you allowed it to fully grow and how it'd attach itself to a structure - like me? make all the pregnancy jokes you want, but i think that that 'child' of mine was that branch that was in the sink because it sprouted out around my spine. food sounds amazing right now, though. i haven't eaten anything since last night, before the surgery. ❞ blamore gave the other's hand a light squeeze before he leaned his head down to kiss the other's knuckles.

a chuckle came from him at the way she stated she wouldn't be letting him on top of the greenhouse. ❝ ahh... there's that protective spirit of yours rearing its head again. though don't worry. it's not like i could even go up there right now if i wanted to, harley. nico told me that he reached out to a person who could fix it, and he said that the estimated time to do so would be three weeks. so i won't be touching it for a while. ❞

Harley winced at the talk about some plants not need outside influences to reproduce. It took her back to a dark time where Ivy was determined to get Harley to stay. It was to the point of trying to create plant children. Children born of the green. In retrospect giving her something responsive that could bridge the gap of communication and make her mother, wasn't too far out there. The problem was that the experiment worked but it was Harley who had to watch life wither in front of her. Pam would find out the hard way that she would be connected and feel their death, something Harley felt was a lesson warranted.

She sat solemn for a moment unable not to remember that moment but quickly shook her head conscious of the conversation. She didn't seem too alarmed as coming to terms with ones individuality was hard. Harley even struggled with this on occasion, but the further she got into psychology the more she didn't really care for gender studies.

" I always felt gender was like a Freudian study. It doesn't really make sense. Kinda like tha' French language. Ya' have masculine and feminine notations fa' pens 'en pencils," she laughed.

" I feel if ya' create these nonexistent lines inta' what is it to be male or female you will always neva' quite be in one or tha' other. I jus' want people ta' be their authentic selves? If it leads to experimenting into things to find out ... good if you make sure ya' ain't hurting someone in tha' process. As fa' me... I've been mostly coined feminine. I can't change my features. Trust me jus' a pair of glasses didn't mask much. I got a touch more respect but not enough. I mostly enjoy tha' company of men, hence why I didn't really have many female partners. So... yer' gonna simply get a tomboy. I'm gonna get dirty, fix cars, enjoy a drink or hang out in dives but I still like to be flirty 'en dress up. Dote on people when I can. I'm just me," she said with a shrug unsure if the talk helped.

Letting go of his tail she saw the hospital made them jittery. It was funny as she may as well have been much the same if she were in the gown.

"Woooahhh... its okay. I got ya. You said two days here. One okay... yer' actually doin' really well. Betta' than most but gotta make sure everything holds. ANddddddd oddly the branch in tha' sink... not yer' usual stuff. I gotta say yer' handling this better than I would. My mind has gone ta' implantin' that seed into a specimen just to study growth and attachment... and you look like its simply something of a collection piece. I feel disgusting for even thinking... Yer' right food... should order food," Harley blabbed before taking Balmore's hand for support.

Taking a breath she looked up at Balmore's eyes. "Ya' know I may not let ya' up ontop of the greenhouse fa' a long time."

[florida3exclamationpoints]

Hang on thought about pastry arts school again