#lets all fuckin go on strike and fix shit so everyone can actually work less and have days off . just saying. lets burn this place 2

[dsgustng]

I genuinely think that liek. Shitty managers think when disabled people have low availability we just spend all that time that we're not working partying and having fun frolicking doing fuck all and we only don't work more because we're "lazy" and choosing to make thier lives more difficult for fun- when in reality most of the time I'm not working I'm recovering from the last time I worked and regaining my energy just to um. Use It all up working again . I wish instead of seeing it as us barley working and being lazy they saw it as us choosing to use up all our very precious and scarce energy working as much as we possibly can and then having no energy left over for ourselves because thats usually how it goes.

[i-ntrmission]

Nine (Van McCann)

Just a silly little fic where Van is sporadic regular at a coffee shop. 

Part 1 (4.3k)

They say bad things happen in threes.

Your phone hadn’t charged overnight, leaving you with 15% battery.

A car ran through a puddle during your walk to work, soaking your legs.

An elderly man held the door of the coffee shop open for you, gesturing with a newspaper for you to go ahead, and a smile that you couldn’t help but reciprocate, until a busy mum storms out from the shop knocking into you and spilling fresh coffee down your jacket.

“Tough morning, eh?” Your co-worker, and resident barista genius, Toby comments with a chuckle while you stomped around the counter. Having seen what just happened, and taking in your soaked tights.

Julia, resident window art and slogan genius, glancing around from the till with a sympathetic pout while you roll your eyes at Toby, pushing on the staff door.

“Oh, leave off Tobes - leave her be. That was tragic, babe. Spare tights in my bag, help yourself.” She says before turning back to the line of customers.

“Cheers, Julia.” You sigh in relief while heading into the back, Toby’s dry chuckles and singsong of ‘Happy Friday!’ following you.

Once you have on dry tights, cleaned what you can from your jacket (thankfully it was leather), and hunted down a spare charger for your phone, you grab your apron and head back out.

By some grace of god, you had a later shift for today, meaning you missed the usual breakfast run full of impatient office employees, half asleep students, pass remarkable construction workers - thankful, with the way your morning had went you wouldn’t have been fit for dealing with that kind of stress this morning. Now in the clear for the easy hours before lunch.

“There she is,” Toby, a lazy grin when you re-emerge, Julia leaning on the counter beside him sipping from a mug, basking in the post breakfast rush comedown. “Here ya go, looks like you need it.” He slides a takeaway cup over to you, and you all too eagerly take a sip. Caffeine can nearly always fix anything, especially a bad morning.

Cinnamon caramel macchiato, a hum of appreciation and a drawn out ‘thank you.” He only chuckles out a ‘no bother’, picking up his tea. You had always found it ironic that someone who despised the taste and smell of coffee worked in a coffee shop, and on top of that made really fucking good coffee.

“So what’s happened you? Apparent from the coffee incident obvs, looked like you wanted to throttle all us when you came in,” Julia asks, brown eyes glancing over you as she takes another sip from her mug.

“Nah, she just always looks like that,” Toby says, a teasing grin. You just roll your eyes, it was true that your resting bitch face was Medusa level.

A sigh, taking another mouthful of your coffee and picking up a basin to start clearing the tables with while you shrug and launch into the story of your morning.

“Happens in threes, doesn’t it.” Julia comments when you catch them up.

"Well, that's my three strikes done for the day, thank fuck,” you shrug. She frowns at that.

"Touch wood."

"What?"

"You jinxed it saying that, need to touch wood for good luck!" Appalled that you never heard of the superstition at question.

Rolling your eyes, a huff as you walk away to start cleaning up. “Think I’ll be alright, Jules.” You weren’t superstitious. “Want some salt instead? Throw it over your shoulder!” Toby chuckles.

Julia only elbows him in the side, telling you both to piss off, mumbling something about having to spill salt first before you could do that.

But, maybe there was some truth in her superstitions because no less than ten minutes later, a cup slipped through your fingers smashing on the floor. Cursing yourself and then glancing meekly in her direction, she watched with a raised brow.

“Reckon it’s too late to touch wood?”

After the cup, you break a plate.

After the plate, you stand back to let a toddler and mum pass by you to get to the bathrooms, standing back with a smile - until you knock over a stand of artisan coffee bags.

“Another three down,” Julia mutters with a smirk while stacking clean cups.

“Sure you don’t want that salt?” Toby quips while walking by you as you sweep up spilt coffee beans. You give him the finger behind the dustpan you held, he reaches up as if to scratch at his beard - sliding his middle finger along his cheek, right back at you.

Your bad luck continues. During the lunch rush you manage to burn a granddad’s toasted sandwich, shortchange a regular who worked in the bookies across the street, and upend a student’s iced latte over your top.

You’re hopelessly scrubbing at the stain on your top when Julia walks into the back, grabbing her pack of fags.

“Jesus,” she mumbles, a dumbfounded look at how much you had managed to fuck up today. Completely out of character for you, a perfectionist by nature. “Did ya break a mirror or sommat lately?”

You only sigh and shake your head, “Any significance in the number 9?”

She thinks for a second, then smiles as she pulls a lighter from her jacket pocket. “9 is supposed to be good luck, actually. New beginnings,” she tilts her head, looking at you, “maybe buy a scratch card, or come to the pub quiz tonight!”

You laugh but before you can reply your manager walks in, a empathic glint in her eye. Everyone who worked here adored Carly, the ultimate mother figure. A caring but also a take no shit kind of person.

Your name - as she walks in, “what’s going on, pet? You’re a one man wrecking machine today!”

She tells you to take an early lunch, go home and get changed, clear your head and the come back. You sigh in relief of not having to wear a soggy blouse for the rest of the day. Half way home when you realize you’ve left your phone charging under the counter.

Finding Julia’s cat, Kurt, sitting on the steps to your and Julia’s shared basement flat. He purrs, pushing his head into your hand when you reach down to pick him up. You spend the next half hour sprawled on your bed with Kurt, eating rice crackers and watching “Best of Dean Winchester” complications on YouTube. Self care.

An hour later, when you walk back into the cafè Julia does a double take, stretching her arms wide and tilting her head in a ‘what the fuck!’ manner.

“Yeah? What’s up?” You ask, walking around the counter to pick back up your apron.

“Where’s your phone?! I’ve been texting you! Guess who’s bloody back?” A rush, and she’s all but bouncing on the spot, eyes gleaming with excitement.

You reach under the counter to pick up your phone, holding it up to her. It was still turned off but charged now. Telling her you forgot about it before you left. Not really bothered about her sudden elation, probably just one of her newest little crushes that changed every month. You entertain her, nonetheless.

“Who? Your man from the butchers?” Asking, while tying your apron, she shakes her head, eyes alight.

“Hm, weird uni Tolstoy wannabe?” You guess again, she shakes her head, then adds that he’s not weird just a bit eccentric and there’s nothing wrong with that. You still think the fact that he’s read War and Peace four times, and brags about, is a red flag.

You’re about to suggest the blonde and blue haired girl from the library when she cuts you off. “Anyway it’s nowt to do with me, cmon you know who it is!”

You only stare at her, blinking and out of guesses. She sighs your name is exasperation.

“Christ, you’re hopeless today. It’s only Van fuckin’ McCann, isn’t it!”

Your eyes widen, heart kicking around your ribs and blood pounds a bit harder at mention of his name. A reaction that surprises you.

“Fuck off!” It comes out as an alarmed whisper.

Van McCann had been coming to the coffee shop for three years now. Often showing up for a few days at a time and then seemingly disappearing off the face of the earth.

He had an obsession with the loyalty cards you dished out with the paper cups, nine stamps got a free drink. He never filled one.

He first showed up three summers ago, middle of a heatwave. He was wearing all black, ripped jeans, and a holy jumper. The holes and rips didn’t seem to be a fashion statement, more like he had just worn the clothes to death. He was pale, too pale. Shoulder length hair that definitely hadn’t seen a shower in a couple days, bags under his eyes. Towing along a smaller guy with long hair and a bandana. They looked out of place. A cloud of cigarette smoke lingering around them, underlying weed.

You and Julia had exchanged a glance. “Homeless? Junkies?” She mouthed at you, after they had sat down with their teas and cinnamon buns you had freshly made that morning. You had rolled your eyes, told her to stop being a judgmental prick.

He came back the next morning, on his own. Same jeans but a black T-shirt, and fluffy hair. You had been cleaning tables, observing while Toby served him. He wanted another cinnamon bun, Toby told him he was out of luck, you hadn’t made them that morning. Glancing over his shoulder with interest when Toby had pointed you out as the resident baker.

The third morning he was back again, a Glasvegas T-shirt. Julia told him you loved that band while he was waiting on his coffee. You were putting out fresh cherry and chocolate scones, when he caught your eye.

“Ey, they’re class aren’t they? What’s ya favourite song?”

You always struggled to hold his gaze when he looked at you, that didn’t change with time. Insanely blue eyes framed with lashes that were wasted on him. You shrugged, “probably Lots Sometimes.” And he had broke out into a wide grin, giving you the first glimpse of his slightly crooked bunny teeth.

You had given him the first of many loyalty cards that day, seeing as he had come in for three mornings straight, he pocketed it with a little huff of laughter, novelty.

He didn’t come back for months after that.

You and Julia spent the next few days speculating who he was and where he had gone, passing slow shifts. Toby rolled his eyes at the theories, saying that he most likely found the new Starbucks across town. Julia sighed in disappointment while muttering something about how conglomerate multi nationals were the root of all evil.

However, he turned up again a month or two later. A busy morning, frantic. You hadn’t even had a chance to look up at the next person in line when you heard his voice, “well ‘ello again, Glasvegas.”

And that’s how it went on, the cycle of Van appearing for a little bit then vanishing for longer. Each time he easily became the best part of the long days - banter, shameless flirting, footie talk with Toby, taste testing any and everything you had baked as a trial run, swapping stories, endless loyalty cards.

He always had a strange little smile when you added an fresh coffee cup stamp to the grid, something the general customer didn’t really care about and it was often a surprise when they filled the card up.

He never gave a heads up when he would be leaving again, he simply just disappeared. And you tried to pretend it wasn’t weird that you got a plummeting feeling in your stomach when it came to the day he didn’t show up. Blue eyes, freckles, a contagious laugh. It was all lingering stares, fingers brushing longer than necessary, throwaway salacious comments.

“C’mon babe, you know he’ll be back, quit sulking,” Julia would playfully elbow you when the day came, and you shook your head with snort, “Shut up, M’not sulking.”

You eventually found out he was in a band, and sometime last year he had asked you if you wanted to come to one of his gigs. Well, he had asked the three of you - but Julia was going on holidays that weekend, Toby had a wedding, and when his eyes met yours you had instinctively crafted a lie about going to visit your sister in London. Something Julia gave you shit for for weeks afterward. You didn’t have a sister, and you hated London.

A few weeks after that incident - by then Van was long gone, Julia stormed into the café with an NME magazine in hand, slamming down on the counter, Van’s face filled the cover.

“Fucking hell!” You and Toby had exhaled in near unison.

“So turns out he’s actually proper famous then, eh?” Julia laughed.

“Am I the bad boy of rock, then? Oh mate..” Toby read from the cover, laughing. “And you turned down the chance to be his bands groupie!” He joked, turning to you.

“Here, I thought he wanted us to go watch his shite Arctic Monkeys rip off band play sweaty Whelans okay?!” You defended.

“Do you think we can start a wall of famous regulars now?” Julia changed the subject, taking a fresh scone you were laying out, flicking to the pages of his interview.

“Yeah, Rock’s bad boy Van McCann and Barry from Eastenders. What a lineup...” Toby snorted, going back to stacking coffee beans.

“I mean, Van kind of looks like Hugh Grant... If you squint.” You shrugged.

You and Julia went home and watched countless Catfish and the Bottlemen interviews and live sets, you liked seeing how Van never changed. No matter who he was talking to. Treating everyone like they were an old friend, not someone he had just met 5 minutes ago.

The band seemed to really take off that year, he came back less and less. But he was still the same old Van when he did, success didn’t change him. Then their second album dropped a year ago, and you hadn’t seen him since. You were happy for him, it was obvious that he was living his dream. Eventually, you stopped thinking about him all that much, life moved on.

Now you were looking at a smug Julia, instinctively glancing around the shop while she laughs and tells you he’s long gone.

“Came in literally 5 minutes after you went out, this day is honestly like some weird fever dream.” She tells you, while Toby comes out from the back.

“And she told him you didn’t work here anymore, should have seen the poor lad’s face!” Toby chuckles.

The two of them look at at each other with a groan when you ask why he’d be upset about you not being here anymore.

“I swear to god, if I have to watch the eye fucking over coffee cups for the next few days...” she sighs, an eye roll. “He’s made it obvious he’s fancied you since the first day he walked in, yeah? Give him a chance!”

“Fucking hell, that’s pure bollocks,” exasperated. Met with a disbelieving look, which only brings you further into defensive mode. “Look, you even gave him my number on one of the stupid loyalty cards last time, never even heard from him. Obviously isn’t interested one bit.”

Julia had asked you if she could write your number on his loyalty card last spring. You had only half said yes, half said no. Noncommittal, all she needed to run with it. She handed it back to him without saying anything, only a smug smirk. You pretended you hadn’t sprung for your phone at every notification for the next two weeks in hope of hearing from him, you never did.

Julia - another eye roll, hands in the air, “Dunno, maybe he just lost the card! You just need to stop writing people off before you get to proper know them!”

The rest of the day dragged, but no more bad luck. As if the universe realigned around Van, which probably wasn’t too far from the truth.

By closing time, it’s just you and Toby left to do the clean up and lockup. It’s nearly 9 when you hear him drawl your name, walking into the kitchen and leaning against the doorway.

“Hey, Kiddo...”

“Toby, my love, what have I told you about patronizing me before you ask me for a favour?” Humming while you put cling filmed dough into the fridge for the pecan pie you were planning on making tomorrow morning.

He laughs and walks in, leaning against the counter. “Alright, sorry - princess.”

Shutting the fridge as you turn to face him with an eye roll, wordlessly telling him to go on. He launches into the how he kind of maybe forgot that his anniversary with his fiancée is tomorrow, their usual Italian restaurant they go to every year is fully booked but he knows the chef. Who, as of this morning, promised to do a private dinner for them, if he meets him at half nine and buys him a couple of drinks.

You listen while you clean off the counter tops, shaking your head with a laugh. “Dunno, mate. What’s in it for me? I mean apart from the joy of mopping floors and taking out the bins?”

Playful - a long sigh. “Isn’t the selfless act of helping out a friend in need reward enough?”

“Yeah, but we’d have to be friends first for that wouldn’t we?” You tilt your head.

“God, you’re such a little bitch sometimes, y’know that?” He chuckles, you shrug. “Right, how about I take the bins out and mop the floors all of next week, and I’ll treat ya to a Sunday roast down the pub after we finish Sunday, deal?”

He holds out his hand, eyes narrowing. Pretending to mull it over for a few seconds, you wouldn’t have made a fuss about him asking you to finish up tonight anyway, but he was always too easy to wind up. Eventually you sigh out a “suppose so” and take his hand.

Pulling you into a hug, dragging out a noise that resembles, ‘legend’ while kissing your head.

Once he’s gone, along with the rubbish, locking you in and halfway pulling the shutter down outside, you put on a Richard Ashcroft album and start on the floor.

Crazy world - you’re half singing along to the chorus, and finishing the floor, when you hear a faint noise behind the music. Insistent tapping. Confusion clouding - knowing you were here alone, glancing behind you, your grip tightening on the mop. And you almost jump out of your skin, a shadow in the entrance to the shop.

It’s Van.

He had clearly ducked under the shutter, now outside the door silhouetted by buzz of streetlamps, tapping on the glass. He laughs at your startled expression, holding up his hands and mouthing ‘sorry, sorry!”

Heart - thumping even harder now, lightheaded. Grabbing your keys to unlock the door, and when you’re face to face with him your mouth goes dry.

“Thought you’d gone and left on us, Glasvegas,”

Gaze flickering over you, a smile tugging on his lips. You can tell he’s been drinking, the all too familiar scent of hours spent in the pub lingers, mixed with fresh cigarettes, shrunken pupils and glassy eyes. A wave of trepidation prickles along your arms, drunk men made you nervous.

But - it’s Van, all messy hair, drunk eyes, and a lazy tired kind of grin. Relaxed and happy.

“Nope, still here like always,” releasing a breath you didn’t realise that you had been holding. Focusing on his necklace, sliver glinting under opened shirt buttons. “Heard Julia was messin’ with you earlier, eh?”

“Too good at fuckin’ with us that one,” he laughs, licking his lips. “Had me dead convinced you’d gone.”

Creased blue shirt - sleeves rolled up, the colour only makes his eyes look even more blue, and even more pretty. Finding yourself being increasingly self conscious despite his equally disheveled appearance. Knowing that your foundation was separating, concealer caking, mascara flaking and lipstick long gone. Coffee stains and flour marking your clothes.

“Did you want to come in for a sec?” You manage to ask.

“Can I? Won’t get ya in trouble or anything? Cause yous are closed.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes while beckoning him in. “C’mon, didn’t have you down as someone who follows the rules, McCann. Careful though, floor is still wet.”

“Oh, no, you’re dead right ‘bout that, love. Just I had you down as someone who always follows the rules.” Winking at you as he walks in, commenting how different the place feels at night.

“Anyways,” he turns back to you with a hum of your name, “Sorry that I scared you, don’t want ya to think I’m being weird coming here this late or anything, I was on me way home see, passing by and I found these on the ground outside..”

He holds up a hand, key chain around his finger and a Harley Davidson key ring you immediately recognize as Toby’s.

You cut him off, telling him they’re Toby’s, that he must have dropped them after locking you in earlier, and that he’s a fucking idiot. An entertained smile curving his lips at your mini rant.

“Sorry, been a long day.”

“Yeah, Julia mentioned you’d been having bad luck or sommat, tell me about it?” A hopeful glint in his eye, and you wondered if he had ever been denied anything in his life.

Ending up making him coffee and giving him leftover banana bread while you ran him through the dramatics of your day. He, like Julia, was shocked that you had never heard of the touch wood superstition.

“Sounds like you’ve been through it, love... then I show up and make it worse, eh?” Finishing his cake and his eyes find yours again.

“Yeah, something like that,” a teasing sort of lithe, the more you talked to him the more at ease you felt around him. It’s familiar.

“Alright, alright! See how it is!” His voice raising to a squeak, you laughed.

You wouldn’t let him pay for the coffee and banana bread, saying it was on the house for saving the shop from being robbed. He only shrugs and leans against the counter beside you. “Just means I’m gonna have to buy you one back, doesn’t it.”

“Thanks for the gesture, but I do get free coffee working here, y’know,” you tell him, already hearing Julia’s words about writing people off, but he was only being nice, wasn’t he?

“Fairs, I’ll buy ya one from a different place then, good to try out the competition innit?” Arms crossing while he looks at you, and you shake your head. Your cheeks aching from the permanent smile you had since he walked in, and you knew you’d cringe about that later tonight when you replayed the scene over in your head in bed.

“Only competition round here is Starbucks, and I don’t think Julia would let you step foot in here again if you buy anything from there.”

He laughs at that, telling you he was more thinking of crappy petrol station coffee. Something you scrunch your nose in disgust at, asking him if that’s all your worth to him. Drawing another laugh.

“C’mere I’d rather take you out for a pint, but m’sparing myself from the inevitable rejection and heartbreak,” he laughs, shaking his head. Your teeth sink into your lip, picking at loose skin on your thumb nail, practically hearing Julia screaming at you in your head.

“How long are you back for?” Finding yourself asking, though you never had before. Not something you ever talked about, questioned. He gives you a look, a smirk.

“Never talk about that do we, love?” He echoes your thoughts while digging in his pocket, ridiculously tight skinny jeans, until his pulls out the green little loyalty card. 8 empty stamp grids, his first one filled by Julia today. “But I’m gonna fill one of these eventually! Toby’s bet me a fiver that I won’t until I’m 30.”

You’re half tempted to ask him why he never called, or texted, or did anything with your number on the last card. Instead your mouth curls around telling him that you’d best lock up and get home. You’re knackered. He asks how you’re getting home, telling him you’re walking, that you only live 15 minutes away while he glances outside. Orange glow of streetlamps. It’s nearing 10, autumn weather starting to creep in.

“It’s dark out.” He states the obvious.

“And?”

“Love, I ain’t letting you walk home in the dark alone! Let me walk ya,” Exclaiming, typical Van fashion. Shaking your head, knowing his intentions were good but you were stubborn.

“Who are you, me dad? I’m more than capable of getting myself home, Van.” Teasing but firm, arching a brow at him. He tells you he’ll get you an Uber then, you repeat that it’s only 15 minutes home, that you’re walking. He only stares at you for a second or two, and you can’t hold it. Thankful that he’s obviously drunk and tired, because he gives in.

“Then at least text me when ya get home, yeah?” Curling his fingers for you to give him your phone, something you’re tempted to deny. But finding it endearing that he cares so much. Handing your phone over. He messes up his number twice.

Unexpectedly, he pulls you in for a hug before he leaves. All warm skin, and you realise you wish you could stay here talking shite with him for longer. All night even.

You watch him walk over to the door. “Right, night.. you’ll be here in the morning, yeah?” He glances back.

“Bright and early.” You confirm.

“Any cinnamon buns going?”

“Maybe, if you get in early enough.”

He laughs. “Right, night then. See ya tomorrow, Glasvegas. Text me, don’t forget!” He calls while he walks out and you grab your stuff to follow him out once you set the alarm.

Watching - he pretends to walk down stairs on the other side of the window before ducking under the shutter.

Leaving you to shake your head with an amused laugh. What a fucking day.

[pinknerdpanda]

A Terrible Idea

Word Count: 3.9k

Characters: Biker!Bucky x Stark!reader, Brother!Tony, Pepper, Rhodey, Steve and Sam

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, drinking, rivalries, language.

Beta’d by: @shy-violet-soul​ Thank you darling! xoxo

@star-spangled-bingo​ square filled: “First I love You” (bolded below)

A/n: I’ve been sitting on this one for a few weeks and I finally finished it last night. I’m a sucker for Biker!Bucky and I hope I did him justice. Feedback is very appreciated!

X

A Terrible Idea

This was a terrible idea. 

I’d had a feeling it was going to be from the minute I’d agreed to come, but now, pulling into the parking lot of the ramshackle bar, I know for sure I’d been right. Rows and rows of suped up, carefully polished and exquisitely maintained motorcycles lay between me and the entrance. I groan, unbuckling the strap under my chin and sliding the helmet off my head. 

“Oh come on, Princess. It’s not so bad,” my brother chuckles in front of me. He dismounts before holding out a hand and helping me down, far less gracefully than he’d managed.

I shoot him a glare, tugging the hem of my dress down and shaking out my hair. 

“Says you,” I grumble, ducking to check my reflection in the tiny side mirror. It proves a fruitless endeavor, and I groan again.

“You look fine, y/n,” Pepper soothes, as she steps forward between us. “It’s going to be fun. Besides, when was the last time you went out. You need to let your hair down and live a little.”

Tony’s arm winds around her shoulders, tugging her against his side. The look of adoration they share is so sweet it makes me want to vomit.

“Your version of fun and my version of fun don’t always seem to mesh,” I prop a fist against my hip. 

“Well that’s because our version of ‘fun’ is actually fun, unlike yours, which is just lame.”

“I hate you.” I mutter, rolling my eyes. 

“No you don’t baby sister,” Tony laughs. “You just hate being wrong. Which you are. A lot.”

The familiar roar of an engine cuts off any further argument as a shiny, metallic blue Honda Shadow pulls to a stop next to Tony’s Harley.

“Rhodey!” Tony cheers as he watches his best friend cut the engine and climb off. 

“Hey Tone. Pepper, y/n - looking beautiful as always,” Rhodey grins before turning his full attention to me. “I’m glad you came tonight. I thought for sure you’d stay home.”

“Well, it wasn’t for lack of trying.” Tony claps Rhodey on the back before ushering us all toward the door. “Alright, party people. Let’s do this.”

The bar is sparsely lit as we enter, fog billowing through the room and obscuring what little lighting exists. Stale cigarettes, beer and sweat coalesce into an oddly comforting fragrance, and I take a deep breath before exhaling. Maybe this wasn’t such a terrible idea after all.

A large man wearing a leather vest covered in menagerie of patches stumbles into me, the drink in his hand sloshing out and dousing me in a cold, hoppy shower. He turns, wide-eyed and apologetic before his expression twists into an unsettling leer, his eyes dancing over my body and making me feel more exposed than I already am.

The warmth of a presence at my back precedes the flash of fear that spreads across his face. I smirk at him, watching with interest as realization plays across his features, his eyes darting back and forth between me and my brother now looming behind me. Feet faltering, the man retreats, the remainder of his drink spilling down his front as he all-but-runs away.

“Jackass,” I mumble, adjusting the straps of my dress and turning toward Tony. “Thank you.”

“I’ve always got your back, sis. Besides,” Tony grins. “Syd Vicious over there knows better than to mess with me.” He shoots me a wink just as his name is yelled from the back of the bar and he makes his way toward the voice, Pepper and Rhodey in tow.

Rather than follow them, I make a beeline for the bar. I’ve been here all of three minutes and, already, I require copious amounts of alcohol. The bartender is tiny - slim and cute in her strapless leather dress and fishnets - but the look in her eyes speaks a warning that there is more to her than meets the eye. She smiles at me as I place my palms against the grimy surface of the bar and make a silent plea with my future drunk-self not to hit on her later.

“Two shots of tequila and a beer, please.”

She winks at me before turning to fill my request. 

“Not playin’ around are ya, sweetheart?” 

The voice startles me - not so much that it caught me off-guard, but more that the rich rasp of it sends a chill down my spine. Tilting my head slightly, I find the profile of a man, backlit by the lights flashing from the dance floor.

His hair is cropped short on the sides and only a little longer on the top. The line of his jaw is striking despite the scruffy beard peppering his cheeks. He glances at me sideways as he brings his drink to his plush lips and it takes a conscious effort to look anywhere but at his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

Two shot glasses and a bottle are placed in front of me next to two lime wedges and a salt shaker. I nod at the bartender, shooting her a wink in thanks as I take the first shot.

“It’s a party, right? Isn’t this what you’re supposed to do? Get lit and loosen up a little?” I quirk an eyebrow at the handsome man beside me before throwing back the second shot.

“What?” His voice is like velvet, warm and luxurious against my skin as he leans in closer. “No lime or salt?”

“What can I say? I like to live life dangerously,” I shrug before leaning against the bar, a smile curving my lips. 

He sits back, his fingers tracing the edge of his glass as he narrows his eyes at me. His gaze traces the shape of my body, but it’s not predatory or icky like the guy with the patches before. If anything, it makes my heart beat a little faster, even as I resist the urge to wrap my arms around myself.

I’ve never been one to feel completely comfortable in my own skin. I know, I know, everyone has body issues. But being the chubby girl in a family of skinny-ass bikers with model-like girlfriends and muscles for days does little for a girl’s self esteem. I’ve had boyfriends, but they all either wanted to “help fix” me by suggesting various diets and workouts or let me know how big of a favor they were doing by dating a “fat chick.”

Then there was Joey. He was gorgeous, funny, sweet and the sex was outstanding. I overheard him at the bar one night, joking with his buddies about how pathetic it was that I constantly “threw” myself at him. He showed at my doorstep the next night telling me how much he loved me and wanted to be with me. I made sure to let him know how pathetic it was to constantly throw himself at me and slammed the door in his face.

“You alright there, doll?”

The velvet voice shakes me from my self deprecation and I realize he’s staring at me curiously. Heat curls up the sides of my face and ears as his brows furrow. 

“Peachy.”  Mumbling, I grab my beer, taking a long swig and turning from his concerned expression.

His hand catches my elbow and I feel a jolt of electricity at his touch.

He says something, but I can’t make it out and I shoot him a questioning look. The music from the band has gotten louder and he leans in “Hey, I’m sorry. Did I do something?”

I shake my head and take another drink. He signals the bartender for two more beers before nodding to the back patio. He’s mouthing something that looks like “it’s too loud in here” as the bartender hands him the bottles.

He gestures to the patio and I feel him at my back as I make my way to the door. Several groups of people are scattered among the mismatched chairs and tables, but the air is crisp and the music is only a dull roar now. We settle into a pair of metal chairs in the corner and he hands me one of the beers.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear myself think in there. M’name’s Bucky, by the way.”

“Y/n. Thanks for the beer, Bucky.” 

He smiles and in that instant the moon is eclipsed by the crinkling around his eyes and the cleft of his chin. “So what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a dump like this, huh?”

“Right.” Scoffing, I roll my eyes. “That line usually work for you or…” I trail off, gesturing with my beer.

He chuckles, holding his hands up in surrender. “‘S’not a line, just an honest question. You just don’t strike me as the kind of girl who hangs around these places, ya know?”

“Oh, so now we’re going with the ‘you’re not like other girls’ bullshit, huh? Smooth, Buck. Really smooth.” I quirk an eyebrow as he squirms ever so slightly. “Or is it because I’m too fat to be the stereotypical hot biker chick type?”

“No, no. You’re...that’s not...I didn’t…”

Laughing, I smack his arm. “Relax. I'm just fuckin’ with you. These places usually aren’t my kind of thing. Not any more at least.”

He sighs, some of the uncomfortable tension visibly draining from his face. “Yeah, me either. You're not by the way.” I tip my head questioningly. "Fat, I mean. You're gorgeous."

I shift, ignoring the heat prickling my cheeks. Unable to come up with a reply to his unexpected compliment, I clear my throat and change the subject.

“So, what brought you here, then, Bucky," I smirk, drawing out his name seductively and surprising myself. What the hell are you doing?

Bucky takes a sip of beer, a small droplet lands on his lip that he kicks away before nipping at his bottom lip.

"Duty and all that." He shrugs casually, despite the deliberate vagueness of his answer. 

I narrow my eyes at him, closing my hands around my bottle. The drink will be too warm for my liking after this, but I don't really care.

"Let me guess; club president and you've got to make an appearance at these shit shows for the sake of morale?" 

Bucky's brow quirks, his eyes twinkling in the starlight. 

"What gave it away?" He says dryly. 

I grin, unwrapping my hands and taking a long drink before replying. "The president patch on your jacket." I lean in and whisper. "It's a bit of a dead giveaway."

He chuckles then and the sound slithers down my spine. 

"You don't say." He eyes me curiously as his long fingers play over the neck of his bottle. 

The thought strikes me that he seems very...adept with his fingers. Gulping, I try desperately to push down that line of thinking as a warmth floods my body. You wanton bitch, keep it together.

"What about you, Doll?" He tips his head to one side, eyes still dancing over my face. It almost feels like he can read my mind and I hope to God he can't.

"My brother dragged me along. Said I wasn't allowed to stay home and 'hide from fun like a goddamn hermit' so...here I am." 

Bucky nods, placing his forearms on the table and leaning towards me. "I gotta say, I'm real glad he did."

The warmth from seconds ago creeps up my shoulders and neck and burns at my cheeks. Lost for words again, I smile and take another drink, draining the remnants of my too warm beer. 

"Y/n?" Tony's voice startles me and I whip my head around to find my brother stomping toward me, Pepper and Rhodey in tow. The redhead clutches the sleeve of Tony's jacket and she shoots me an apologetic look. The air suddenly sparks with tension and I glance between the trio very confused.

"Hey, Tony. What's going on?" I duck my head to meet his eyes, but he's staring over my shoulder, ignoring me.

"Barnes," he growls. "What the hell are you doing?"

I glance over my shoulder to find Bucky smirking, but I don't miss the muscle in his jaw twitching.

"Having a drink with a beautiful woman," he replies, his voice teetering between nonchalance and irritation. "You two know each other?"

"Something like that, but I'm guessing you already knew that," Tony grinds out as Bucky rises to his feet.

The two men tower over me and I shift awkwardly trying to find a way out from between them. 

"What the fuck's that supposed to mean, Stark?"

Tony rolls his eyes, a huff of humorless laughter punching from his lungs. "Right. You expect me to believe you just happened to strike up a conversation with my baby sister? Give me a break, Barnes."

Bucky steps back, giving me room to slide from my chair and stand a little distance from them. He gulps and shoots me a panicked look. 

"You're Stark's sister?" The words are hoarse and low, as though it hurt him to spit them out. 

Frustrated and confused, I whirl on my brother. "Tony, what the fuck is going on?" 

Tony tugs his arm from Pepper's grasp and shoves an accusatory finger toward Bucky. "He's a fucking White Wolf, y/n. The goddamn president, in fact."

The shuffle of boots behind me draws my attention and I watch two men approach Bucky, flanking him. The man on the right is tall, blonde and has a face too boy-next-door to match his worn leather jacket. The other man grins at me, deep brown lips parting to reveal a gap between his front teeth. Neither of the men strikes much in the way of fear in me, but the menacing looks they throw toward my brother send a prickle of anxiety through my bones.

"I'd bet money that douche-canoe is only using you to try and get to me." Tony crosses his arms.

The patio has grown deadly quiet save for the full hum of music from inside. The static in my head, however, is screaming in rage and I return my gaze to my brother. 

"Is that so? You don't think there's a snowball's chance in hell he could actually find my company appealing? Is it possible that once - just one time - in your fucking life, Anthony, that something might not actually be about you?"

Rhodey stifles a laugh and Tony glares at him. I cross my arms and lift my eyebrows, watching him expectantly. 

"All I'm saying is that it's too damn big of a coincidence." Tony sighs before continuing, lowering his voice and clutching my elbows affectionately. "You know what happened, y/n. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out he's using you."

Hurt and anger roar in my ears as I step out of his grasp. Of course I know about the rivalry between the White Wolves and the Iron Legion. I may not be as well versed in club politics as I'd once been, but the feud goes back for generations. The fact that my brother finds it more plausible that a man would want to spend time with me because of a decade's old grudge rather than simply appreciating my company stings. 

"That's not it at all, y/n," Bucky murmurs behind me, his words dripping with sincerity as though he can read my thoughts. "I had no idea you even knew him. You have to believe me."

Tears burn at the back of my eyes and I take a deep breath before turning to face him.

"And now that you do?" 

Tony grumbles behind me, but I ignore him. Bucky's face is drawn in confusion as he meets my eyes.

"Now that I do, what?"

"Now that you know who I am. Does that change anything?" I sniff, wrapping my arms around myself and staring at the toe of my black boot.

A second pair of boots steps into view and I look up to find Bucky standing directly in front of me. His hands clench and unclench at his sides, but I can't tell if it's unspent anger or a hesitancy to touch me. Finally he places a finger under my chin, tipping my head back gently.

"Not a thing," he breathes, searching my face for something.

When I step backward, his hand drops back to his side and he hangs his head. I turn to face my brother.

"First, I love you. You're my brother and nothing will change that. But right now you're being a giant asshole. I don't give a shit if he's a Hell's Angel or a fuckin' priest. Who I speak to and spend time with is none of your business. I suggest you find something else to fill your time besides dragging me into your club bullshit."

Pepper grins at me over Tony's shoulder. Rhodey looks concerned and maybe a bit disappointed, but says nothing. Tony nods, opening his mouth but closing it again.

"Tony, that's enough. She's a grown woman," Pepper soothes.

His lips press into a tight line as he grabs Pepper's hand and leads her back inside. Rhodey steps forward, patting my shoulder before following his friend.

I turn back to Bucky, his face a wash of awe, confusion and appreciation. I smile at him weakly, tipping my head back toward the door.

"Next round's on me." I glance at his new companions. "You, too. Pull up a seat and Bucky can introduce us when I get back."

Without waiting for a response, I make my way back inside, my legs shaking slightly and my lungs begging for oxygen. Apparently I'd been holding my breath for most of our little exchange outside and I relish the scent of beer and stale cigarettes as I inhale deeply.

----

A few hours and many beers between my confrontation with Tony and now, I throw my head back, howling at Sam. 

"He didn't." I gasp dramatically. 

Sam wiggles his eyebrows at me as Bucky groans beside me.

"Oh he did. Got it on camera and everything."

Giggles break free from my lips as I look at Bucky, annoyance twisting his features as he glares at Sam. I clamp one hand over my mouth and the other on his thigh as the giggles continue. Bucky looks between the hand on his thigh and my face as his lips curve in amusement and his pupils darken. 

Steve clears his throat and stands. "Y/n it's a pleasure meeting you. I think Sam and I will head back inside and see what Romanoff is up to."

"Aw come on, Steve. I haven't even told her about the time…" 

Sam's words are cut off as Steve grips his shoulder harshly. Sam coughs and sends me a wicked grin before rising to his feet.

"Another time," he winks at me. "You two stay out of trouble."

The patio is nearly empty I realize as I watch the two men head back inside. Bucky chuckles beside me, placing his arm across the back of my chair.

"Some interesting friends you've got there, Buck," I muse, but stop as I meet his gaze. 

Bucky licks his lips, his pupils blown even wider now as he watches me. My mouth feels dry and I squirm under his heated stare.

Just when I think he's going to lean in and kiss me, he stands abruptly. 

"Dance with me." 

He holds his hand out to me and I stare at it, dumbly.

"Come on, Doll. It's just us out here, now. A pretty girl gets all dressed up for the evening, she deserves at least one dance." He wiggles his fingers invitingly and I oblige.

He grins as he helps me to my feet and wraps his arms around my waist. 

"There's no music, Buck." I slip my hands around his neck anyway and he pulls me closer, rocking gently side to side.

"Don't need no music," he mumbles before burying his face into the crook of my shoulder. "We can make our own."

My fingers tangle in his hair as I press my cheek against his chest. The leather of his jacket is softer than it looks and I sigh, allowing him to lead me in a silent dance.

The murmur of voices inside and the comforting chirp of crickets nearby bleed together in a soothing cocoon of white noise as our bodies sway.

"I never thanked you earlier." Bucky's breath tickles my neck and sends a pleasant shiver down my spine.

I pull back to look at him. "Thank me for what?"

"For believing me," he says simply. When I narrow my eyes at him, confused, he chuckles and continues. "Everything Stark...err...Tony..." he corrects himself awkwardly, "... everything he said about me using you, I was sure you'd walk away. But then you didn't. Instead you just unloaded on him and I gotta say, y/n, it was pretty hot." 

I chuckle, dropping my head to hide the blush creeping up my cheeks. 

Bucky continues, his voice carrying a more sincere tone. "I like you, y/n. A lot. All that shit between the clubs? I'm just…" he sighs. "I'm tired of it. All that happened between my granddad and yours? Who knows how much of it is even true or who's to blame." He pauses, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip. "What I'm trying to say is. I'd like to get to know you more but I don't want all this rivalry crap to come between you and your brother. Family is family, ya know? And I'd hate for you to get…"

Feeling brave, I cut off his rambling by pressing my lips to his and he goes still except for the tightening of his grip on my hips. I slide my hands to cup his cheeks and pull back.

"I like you too, Bucky." He smiles widely at me. "My brother and I will be fine, we just need to sit down and talk things out after we've both cooled down."

Bucky nods thoughtfully, his eyes dipping down to my mouth before meeting mine again. One hand glides up my arm and over my shoulder before resting against the back of my neck. His thumb brushes against the shell of my ear and I shudder at the sensation. He smiles broadly before pressing against my head, and dropping his mouth to mine.

Where the first kiss was slow and gentle, this one is firm and heated and does nothing to keep my stomach from coiling in on itself. I drag my tongue along the seam of his lips and sigh as he parts them. He kisses me like our whole damn lives depend on it and at this point, I'm beginning to think they do.

When we finally break free, breathless and chests heaving, he rests his forehead against mine and hums in satisfaction.

"Remind me to thank your brother for dragging you out tonight," Bucky mumbles, pecking my lips, once, twice. "Maybe when he doesn't want to punch me in the face."

I throw my head back, joy bubbling from the depths of my soul as my laughter breaks the quiet stillness of night. Bucky grins and kisses me again. A voice in the back of my head whispers over the surge of desire threatening to overtake me.

"See, tonight wasn't so terrible after all."

Like what you see? Want more? My SPN Masterlist is here, and MCU is here. Thanks for reading! :)

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[gore-hovnd]

Don’t Breathe: Part Two

As per request of @hydra-trash-spot

Warning For: Toxic/Controlling Relationship, Emotional/Physical Abuse

(Also, side note, I’m literally incapable of proofreading unless things are in post format so please excuse my typos pff)

(Side Note pt 2, electric boogaloo; I edited it and now it’s not as BAD. Idk if this is gonna retag but if it does I’m SORRY, bc I’m awful and I’ve been fixing the formatting smh)

Sweat droplets rolled between his shoulders in a way that made his skin crawl as he shifted in his seat. Staring blankly at the paperwork in his hand, Jack began to read the paragraph at the top of the page for the fifth time. 

Of course there was maintenance happening on the building’s AC unit, of course today was the hottest day of the week, and of course Brock felt the need fuck him over in more ways than one by not letting him call off work for that day. When he looked at it from Brock’s standpoint as a commander, Jack understood why. The STRIKE team had an urgent mission come up, they would be leaving for it in three days, and they needed everyone to be ready. But when he looked at it from Brock’s standpoint as his boyfriend, Jack knew it was just Brock being the biggest dick imaginable at that point. It hadn’t been enough to drag him around the house in a dog collar that left dark, saturated bruises in its wake and made speaking a chore. It wasn’t enough to humiliate him by claiming that the bruising across Jack’s nose and beneath is eyes was from him coming into unfortunate contact with the shower rod the night before. And it wasn’t enough to make Jack come to work in a heavy jacket, zipped all the way up, in ninety degree weather to hide the bruises over his throat. Because nothing was ever enough and despite trying to stay out of Brock’s line of sight all day, Jack knew he’d always be Brock’s primary target.

“I need you to pick up training with Cap today.” Brock stated plainly while JAck shared a lunch that only one of them ate. 

Jack recoiled, looking up from the slowly cooling chicken pasta in front of him. He’d only gotten three bites in before he decided that it hurt too much to swallow. 

“Why?” Jack grumbled, his voice low and weak from both the abuse to his vocal cords as well as disuse. He hadn’t said a word to Brock all day, the anger in him once again rising, bashing against the cage of his resolve like a wild beast trying to break free. 

“‘Cause Pierce called me about havin’ another meeting this morning. I don’t got a choice here, Jackie, I already told the big guy you’d be there.” Brock explained as he scrolled through his emails at his computer. 

“Why not jus’ fuckn’ reschedule.” Jack grumbled under his breath, rising from his seat and throwing his lunch into the bin by Brock’s desk with more force than necessary. The combination of the action and his attitude had Brock looking up from his work, staring at Jack with an irritated look despite the upward turn of his lip. 

“What was that, mouth?” He asked and Jack hesitated for a second. He could challenge it, could try to put Brock in his place, but the lingering threat of the previous night’s events bred an unfamiliar fear in his chest and he pulled his gaze away. 

“Nothin’.” He mumbled, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets before making his escape. 

***

Jack sat in the gym for twenty minutes waiting for Steve. 

And in that twenty minutes he contemplated what the hell had just happened. He’d never been afraid of Brock before. Upset? Yes. Wary? Of course. Angry? Abso-fucking-lutely, but afraid? Never. And whatever was causing that fear to fester in his chest was making him sick. 

The doors to the gym opened and Jack broke from his thoughts, staring up to meet the bright, happy smile on Steve’s face that oh-so-awfully contrasted from his own bitter mood in a way that was borderline annoying. 

“Been a while,” Steve chuckled, offering his hand to help Jack get up from his place on the floor. He took it, pulling himself up and suppressing a hiss of pain as his body ached. That brief tumble down the stairs last night must’ve taken more out of him that he originally thought. 

As the two of them readied themselves; stretching, wrapping their hands, and ultimately building dread in Jack’s stomach, he couldn’t help but lose himself again. 

“Are you gonna wear that the whole time?” Steve piped up, pulling Jack back to reality for the third time in the past hour. 

“What?” He asked, forcing his shoulder to stretch despite the strain of his muscle. 

“That jacket.” Steve elaborated, gesturing at him to emphasize. 

Jack glanced down at it, somehow momentarily forgetting he had it on, before shrugging with a nod. 

“Yeah.” 

That was all he chose to say before the two of them stepped into the ring. There he stood: in a jacket, white basketball shorts, and black athletic ankle supports, staring at Steve who wore something similar, just with a tank top instead. 

The two of them sparred for a bit and from the very beginning, Jack knew it wasn’t going to end well for him. The soreness that blanketed him only seemed to get heavier the longer he tried to force his body to move. It slowed his reactions, made it impossible to keep up with the living god that was Steve Rogers. Jack didn’t think he could take goddamn Captain America down even on a good day so trying to on a day where all of his muscles were simultaneously on fire definitely wasn’t going to work in his favor. 

And try as he might, one particularly well timed hit to his ribs had him on the floor. When he looked at the clock, he’d found that they’d been at it for a solid forty-five minutes and Jack was almost impressed with himself. That is until Steve fussed over him like a damn mother hen. 

“Shit, Rollins are you alright?” Steve asked, dropping to his knees to seemingly try and get a closer look at Jack who, in turn, waved him off as he spit his mouthguard out onto the floor. 

“M’ fine,” Jack wheezed unconvincingly as he pushed himself up with one arm, the other wrapped securely around his chest. Steve didn’t seem convinced, deciding to go for the jacket which had Jack pulling away reflexively. 

Steve paused, staring at him for a moment before he pulled the collar of the jacket down and all Jack could do was look up to avoid seeing the concerned look on Steve’s face. He let Steve unzip the jacket and pull it from his shoulders, getting a closer look. Even the gentle grazes of Steve’s fingers over the bruises on his neck had him flinching, less from actually feeling any pain and more from expecting it. What the hell had Brock done to him? And to think, for a few delusional hours, he thought he was lucky to have that man. 

“What happened to you?” Steve asked but Jack didn’t answer, responding by shrugging the jacket back over his shoulders and forcing himself to stand despite how much his body protested. “Did someone try to kill you?” 

For a single, cursory moment, Jack paused while his brain took time to do a hard reset. The suggestion felt so ridiculous that he wasn’t sure what else to do but play along with it. So he shrugged and watched as Steve shook his head in disbelief. 

“Did you file a report?” He asked and Jack released a bitter laugh. 

“What? Hell no.” He snorted. He knew that Steve’s mind was somewhere else entirely but he couldn’t help imagining what it would be like trying to file a report against Brock. He’d be killed, likely. Pierce already hated their relationship, said it was a “conflict of interest.” Jack thought it was asinine at first but now he was beginning to think Pierce, slimy bastard that he was, was right. 

“You need to, this is important!” Steve demanded. Jack wasn’t entirely sure how he was supposed to react and instead just shrugged it off with a quiet ‘s’ fine.’ only to earn himself a frustrated sigh from Steve. 

“It’s not fine, it’s dangerous! You know what we do, it’s...our line of work isn’t exactly a forgiving one.” Steve huffed. ‘Tell me about it,’ Jack’s thoughts chimed as he shook his head, staring at Steve with a tired look. 

“I gotta get back to work. STRIKE team ships out in three days, be ready.” His voice was monotonous and bland as he turned to head back toward the locker rooms. That’s when Steve grabbed his arm and a rush of adrenaline tore through his body with the force of a fire hose as he turned to throw a punch that Steve quickly dodged, releasing him in the process. Jack didn’t know when he started trembling but now that he noticed, he couldn’t calm his nerves. The sad look that Steve gave him did nothing more than ignite an angry fire within him and suddenly, he was overwhelmed with the feeling that he wanted to fight again. 

“You don’t have to do this alone, I can help you.” Steve offered, taking a step forward and offering a gentle hand, only to have Jack grab hold of his wrist with an unnecessarily intense grip. 

“Ever stop to think I don’t need your fuckin’ help, Rogers?” Jack growled. “Ever stop to think I might just need your head outta’ my ass?” 

With a grimace, Jack shoved Steve back and turned without a second thought, zipping his jacket up as he retreated to lick at the wounds rubbed raw by Steve’s pity. 

***

Going through a week long mission with Steve, while simultaneously trying to hide the bruises Brock gave him, had been absolute hell. So it was understandable that all Jack wanted to do when he got home was sleep. Unfortunately for him, all Brock wanted to do was fuck. 

“I’m serious, no.” Jack growled, pushing Brock’s hand from his hip only for that same imposing hand to latch right back on. 

“Oh, c’mon, Jackie, I need you inside me.” Brock purred, licking at Jack’s throat. By then, the bruises had become a sickly yellow and were faint enough for Jack to stop wearing hoodies and jackets to hide them. The rest of his body healed accordingly and things could go back to being relatively normal, something Jack wasn’t sure if he wanted. Because Brock made him hate normal. 

“I said I don’t want to.” Jack said more firmly this time, finally managing to shove Brock back on his haunches. Pushing himself up on his elbows, Jack held Brock’s glare before his commander finally scoffed and stood up from their bed with a huff. 

“You know, you seriously make me wanna fuckin’ hit you sometimes.” Brock growled as he left the room, undoubtedly planning to sleep on the couch. He always slept on the couch when he was sick of looking at Jack, when seeing Jack made him angry. He knew this, he knew Brock got mad when he said no, knew that Brock didn’t like it when he refused anything, especially sex, and knew that Brock wanted to hurt him because of it. But Brock had never actually said it aloud before. And for whatever reason, actually hearing it was unsettling. 

He didn’t sleep well that night and when he woke up the next morning, he found that Brock had seemingly dropped the entire thing. He was bad about that, about ignoring any sort of argument they had, but Jack didn’t really have any other choice but to deal with it. 

Over time, Brock got worse. Just as he always had. After a while his threats stopped being threats and he stopped warning Jack all together. Sometimes Jack could anticipate it but most of the time, it felt entirely random. Brock would smack him in the back of his head, shove him around, punch him, even, if he was in a particularly bad mood. And Jack was at a loss. 

There was a war waged in Jack’s mind, his emotions tumbling between hating Brock and adoring him. Brock was a terrible man; he was violent and volatile and fear had become a familiar friend to Jack in the months that had passed since the choke chain incident. But every few days, he would be gentle and kind and he’d make Jack feel like nothing short of a god. And for those few, fleeting hours, Jack was on cloud nine. 

But the good times never seem to last and eventually he was sick of making up excuses to stay. 

“Come on, Jack, yer gonna leave over that? Over a love tap?” Brock growled as he followed Jack through their home. 

“Does it matter?” Jack grumbled, shoving some of his clothes into an old backpack. “I’m a grown man, I can leave if I want to.” 

This response, however, wasn’t good enough. Brock’s hand was almost instantly around his arm and Jack recoiled, throwing his elbow back and landing a hit across Brock’s mouth, effectively bloodying his lip. 

“Sonuva-” Brock barked, staggering back when Jack landed another hit on his face. Spitting a mixture of blood and spit out onto the dark carpet, Brock wiped a hand across his chin before glaring at Jack, who was frozen. Multiple thoughts raced through his mind in that moment and somehow he was both proud of and angry with himself. But both of those were overshadowed by the terror that crashed through him like a startling rush of electricity when Brock advanced on him. 

The two of them fumbled around for awhile, battering and bruising each other until eventually, Brock got his hands around the back of Jack’s head pulled, bringing his knee up to collide with Jack’s nose. 

A sickening crunch filled the air and the two of them paused as Jack covered his face, panting while he tried to gather himself. Sitting down on their bed, leaving a bloody handprint on their white comforter, Jack tried to sniff but he couldn’t. Blood dripped down his mouth the same way it had months prior when Brock had pulled him off of the couch and all he could do was wonder to himself why he was stupid enough to stay so long. 

“Let’s go.” Brock growled under his breath, taking hold of Jack’s bicep and forcing him to stand like he was a child. Jack shrugged him off, even going so far as to shove him away, before the two of them trudged out to their car. 

The ride to the hospital was silent and when they got there, Jack refused to explain how it happened. It wasn’t that he was trying to protect Brock, he was just so exhausted… He didn’t have the energy to make up excuses or answer any questions. 

Luckily, it only took fifteen minutes for a doctor to be made available for him. Unluckily, Brock followed him back into the room. And as if his broken nose wasn’t punishment enough, Brock continued to berate him. 

“You jus’ dunno when to quit do you?” Brock growled, his arms crossed over his chest. His lip was swollen, the gash that ran through it shining angry and red. Drops of blood stained the collar of his grey shirt and in that moment the two of them stared at each other with equally intense looks of pure hatred. 

“What?” Jack snapped, trying desperately to convince himself that Brock wasn’t worth a trip to prison. 

“You don’t know how to fuckin’ quit, Jack! You always do this! You piss me off, then gimme that pissy little look when I get mad! This shit wouldn’t happen if you didn’t get me so fucking riled up!” Brock barked and all Jack could do was laugh incredulously, disbelief filling him as he stared Brock in the eye. 

“No, this shit wouldn’t happen if you weren’t such a fucking psychopath.” Jack hissed and just like that, Brock was on him again. First, there was a knee to his ribs, then a fist under his jaw, but Jack wasn’t going to lay down and let Brock beat on him anymore. He’d finally decided that everything Brock did to him was complete and utter bullshit. It wasn’t warranted and he wasn’t ungrateful when he got upset about it. And for the love of God, he didn’t fucking deserve it.

So he fought back. He kicked and he growled and he fought with everything he had. Landed a few good hits too. At some point, the doctor must’ve come in to the two of them fighting and called security. They pried Brock off of Jack, his eye swollen shut and his lip re-busted-open. Jack grimaced, wanting nothing more than to pounce on him while he was restrained. But the security guards were too quick to get him out of the room.

The doctor didn’t ask Jack any questions, simply got him cleaned up, reset his nose, and offered him a phone to call someone. Jack accepted the offer with a grateful, albeit quiet, ‘thank you.’ And he sat for an hour contemplating whether or not he should do what he wanted to do. He didn’t really have much of a choice, though, did he?

“Hello?” Answered Steve’s familiar voice over the other line. 

“If I ask you to come pick me up from the hospital will you promise not to ask questions?” Jack asked. He never was good at easing into a conversation. 

“The hospital? What happened? Are you hurt?” Steve immediately started and all Jack could do was sigh and weigh what options he would have if he decided to hang up. 

“Steve, please.” He begged quietly. He wasn’t proud of the pleading tone in his voice but he couldn’t take it back. Couldn’t hide it. Not anymore.

Steve didn’t say anything for a long time. The quiet that fell over them was the kind that was deafening and suffocating at the same time and he wanted nothing more than to scream just to fill the space. But before he could, Steve started talking again. 

“I’ll be there.” He said softly. 

And he was. In twenty minutes, Steve was at the hospital and the second he saw Jack, it looked like his entire world had been crushed. An odd look of knowing crossed his face as he flicked his head and without a second thought, Jack followed.

After another wordless car ride, Jack found himself in a new place. The unfamiliar space of Steve’s apartment left him feeling vulnerable and exposed, like a rabbit in a field of rabid dogs. But Steve’s gentle hand guided him and it sickened him that his mind was already waiting for that softness to be replaced with anger and pain. But nothing happened and Jack scolded himself for thinking something would. 

They sat on the couch with the same silence that had hovered over them on the phone weighing tension on their shoulders and Jack once again felt the urge to make noise so it wouldn’t feel so heavy on his chest. But just as before, Steve came to the rescue to fill the silence before Jack had to. 

“I guess this is how Bucky always felt when he saw me all beat up.” Steve tried to chuckle and Jack couldn’t help the little snort that left him. 

“Guess so.” Jack grunted in response, sighing as he refused to meet Steve’s eye. It was then that an arm slowly wrapped around him and with cautious curiosity, Jack let it happen, willing himself not to flinch. He half expected other advances to be made but nothing ever came, and he liked it that way. 

Steve turned the T.V. on and for a while, Jack zoned out while late night sitcoms flashed on screen with mediocre, cheesy jokes filling the quiet with a comfortable drone. And eventually, as Jack grew too tired to ignore the exhaustion any longer, he rested his head on Steve’s shoulder and found a relieving sense of peace when Steve leaned on him too. 

And for the first time since he’d met Brock fucking Rumlow, he felt safe.

[johnny2071]

Top 10 Worst of Sue Murphy *STRONG CRITICISM*

F is for Family is a very divisive show that has garnered a lot of attention on the internet, whether its the bitter and crass nature of the show itself, the dysfunctionality of the Murphy family, or the jarring one-liners and temper of the main character, that only a stand-up comedian like Bill Burr can provide. However, while this show gets nothing but an obscene amount of praise, especially over its outspoken protagonist, not much is said regarding the main female of the house who invokes a lot of emotional drama: Sue Murphy, who quite honestly is far from pleasant and approachable. We all have stress in our lives. However, Sue's methods of handling them, along with sheer amount of obsession, neglect, hostility, and miscommunication with just the people in her house, is enough to keep anyone awake for weeks, especially with a show written as real as this. This is a top 10 list of Sue's worst moments in each episode throughout the first three seasons up to this point (with some exceptions). Before anyone in this rabid "show-can-do-no-wrong" subreddit/fanbase bites my head off or "puts me through da fuckin' wall", it's important to read this quote from a popular YouTuber: "Rather than insulting these people, maybe try to understand the perspective and say why you disagree. This kind of reaction to negativity and critique needs to stop. There is nothing wrong with negativity. Negativity, especially in criticism is a necessity. You cannot have positivity without negativity. Bother are in balance, and one without the other is unnatural. You cannot live your life without negativity or negative opinions towards something. It's completely natural. Not only that, but living in a world where everything is treated as if they have no flaws is misguided. That's not how things are. So when a product comes along, it should be scrutinized with negativity and positivity."

Unlike Watchmojo or any regular top ten video, I will not include full paragraph analysis for each bad Sue moment. This will be kept as brief as possible. Also, these aren't rankings for the episodes themselves (since other characters do horrible and questionable things). With that said, let's move on to this top 10 list.

10. This is Not Good - Out of these current 26 episodes, there have been some minor moments. But it's this episode that highlights Sue's neglect and sets the tone that erupts into a fierce conflict. 9. Punch Drunk - While Sue has major hostility towards Chet and Frank for not siding with her judgement, what really takes the cake is when she coldly blows off Maureen, who was only voicing a complaint about her father. 8. Paul Lynde to Block - Sue's mood in general over the summer heat, and Frank and Kevin's arguing. But the real kicker is her brief exchange with Bill over bug spray, shortly before she meets the new neighbors. 7. Landing the Plane - Sue's bitterness at the beginning of the episode, as well her treatment towards a random bystander while drunk from her sorrows of having her idea stolen. 6. F is for Fixing It - Sue's mood throughout the whole episode, as she puts pressure on Frank to resolve their marriage. 5. Bill Murphy's Day Off - Frank and Sue's first explosive argument, where they both say negative about Bill behind his back. 4. The Stinger - Sue's outburst in this episode is what provoked me to create this list. She kicks Bill out the house and sends Maureen to her room, just so she can have the whole living room to herself, only to threaten everyone she invited over (and even Maureen) to by her product. Selfish bitch! I wish I could just barge in there, call her out on her shit, and snatch and toss away that carton of ice cream she has the nerve to triumphantly eat. And I'll gladly take on any SJWs who object. 3. Pray Away - Sue was frosty throughout the entire episode (no peaceful moments there), but flips out when Frank sincerely expresses his source of anger. 2. Fight Night - I'm not sure what things were like at the beginning, the things go SOUTH between Frank and Sue the minute they're called into the Maureen's classroom. 1. A Girl Named Sue - Do I even need to explain why this is number one. It's that one scene alone, and I do not want to recount it. Dishonorable Mentions: -The Bleedin in Sweden - When the new television is broken, Sue intentionally guilts the children over Frank's outburst in the store. After Kevin takes the fall, she zeroes in on Bill and scolds him for it when he comes clean. Even though Frank is kind to him at the end, Sue says NOTHING. -Saturday, Bloody Saturday - At the beginning, Sue scolds Kevin for his bad grades, and stops a fight between Bill and Maureen, by threatening to go insane. -The Trough - While Kevin rightfully gets called out for not doing his homework and keeping his promise, it doesn't paint Sue in a positive light. However, Sue shows her scary side once again (exclaiming that she wished she was never married), when she runs into Ginny, who eats all her time in the rest of the day she was going to spend with Maureen (who was dragged along with her). Whether Sue actually had Maureen in mind or just brought her along as a prop to quell her own insecurities is debatable. This also the matter that Sue almost  returns home in rage to chew out Frank (after Maureen mention that he has exclaimed that same thing before). -F is for Halloween - Sue's silently storms off when she finds out about the message Sue left. This is not in the top 10, because she's gone throughout the rest of the episode until the end. -O Holy Moly Night - Sue's hostility in this episode is subdued, but still prominent at the beginning. Directly after the fire incident, all Sue can do is just sit at the table and glare at Bill, while Frank chews him out. When Bill mention's that he knows about their bedroom argument, he catches their attention for a brief second, but when Maureen mentions that Major is missing, and they go right back to giving Bill hostility. The drama that scarred Bill and led to the fire in the first place, is never elaborated on past that, and Bill is made an altar boy off-screen by Frank and/or Sue. Other than that Sue simply prepares for the holiday season, up until the Fitzsimmons' call out the entire family and Sue sends them running with a bat and drops her first f-strike. -Heavy Sledding - While Sue is relatively tame throughout the whole episode, the biggest upset is when she screams at a 9-year old who called her family loser, and then throws her cigarette in his face. The fact that she even smokes at this point, strongly implies that this is a very unpleasant woman. -S4E10? - Considering what this show is how it does not deviate from the worst possible scenarios, Sue going in labor will go as well as you would expect it to, and it wouldn't be like any labor scenario that's ever happened in pop culture (and real-life).

----------BONUS DISCUSSION----------

Less Volatile Behavior (a.k.a. the remaining episodes): -The Liar's Club - Didn't watch -Night Shift - Sue's only disdain was over lettuce, before getting wrapped up with her first invention brainstorm -Breaking Bill - Sue had a bad day at work, only to see Frank arguing with Kevin in public. Other than that, she didn't do anything else. -Are You Ready For Summer? - Didn't watch. Sounded like an already involved episode as it is. Apparently, she "wasn't any better than Frank" at the parade. -Frank the Father - Sue gone for most of the day, rooting for Maureen at the Hobo Jojo Show, and expresses disappointment and disgust when she sees Frank and Kevin arguing as she returns home. She then mutters under her breath whether or not its her fault or the family. Needless to say, it's her. -It's In His Blood - Sue is distraught over losing the recently build baby room due to not having a permit. She also pays zero attention to Kevin when he actually tries to get advice from them over a serious matter. The rest of her activity consist of trying to get Nguyen-Nguyen to seek help and Frank's anger over Chet. -Mr. Murphy's Wild Ride - Now this one is quite mixed. Sue actually wishes Kevin a happy birthday, but this is likely due to her being gung-ho that receive "positive feedback" over the Forkoontula. One could argue that she defended Bill, when Marie accuses him of being a liar, when he takes the blame for Phillip pushing Anthony (only for Phillip to admit it anyway). However, she probably used this as a segway to call Marie out on her lie, when she finds out she threw her invention away in the garbage can. To Sue's credit, she does realize how harmful her invention is and gives one of the rarest and sincerest apologies that she/Laura Dern can deliver (a total 180 from the previous episode and earlier, excluding the part where Maureen isn't taken into account, but leagues better than the one she co-gives to Bill when he calls both his parents out). However, this scene shows us just how bad Sue's listening skills are, as she misinterprets two things. First, she thinks that her friends were only fearful towards her invention and not herself and the way she acted. Second, she thinks they actually like her invention, despite the "few flaws". -Summer Vacation - After Frank drives away both Sue's parents and their children, they almost have another argument. Fortunately indigestion kicks in, and they have a good laugh together. -Battle of the Sexes - Sue seems to express no real hostility, but not much sincerity. -Bill Murphy's Night Off - Sue spend the bulk of the episode searching for Bill while worried sick, finally learns how neglectful both her and Frank are as parents, and decides that being parents is their most important priority. We can only hope and pray that they (especially Sue) actually follow through with that promise (the right way), and not just scream at and punish them more, while "being their parents". ----------CONCLUSION----------

Sue has bad bipolar disorder, and needs serious psychological help as well as anger management. The sad thing about all of this is that she's the only female in this series who any real depth and sense of morality and sensitivity, and its the beautiful ones (combined with over-the-top movie star voice acting) that get under our skin and tug the emotional appeal cord. But point being, no one can make a big dramatic stink like Sue, and may god help the innocent party around her (as oppose to those who screw her over in the first place). At this point, in order to redeem her character just somewhat, the whole family need to bring enough up to speed and discuss/clarify all the miscommunications that happen during their neglect this third season alone. And yes, a plot-focused clip show (A CLIP SHOW)/recap episode would be gladly welcomed here. Sure some people would whine about them re-showing clips from previous episodes, but people in this particular fanbase binge each season in repeat anyway. Oh, and being pregnant doesn't give you the right to snap at others, especially over seemingly minor infractions. Sometimes I wonder if Sue is in Philip's kill book (the one character who has hidden unstable malice, regardless of age and gender). 

[randomfandomfamily]

I’m Watching Kim Possible and Writing Down My Thoughts Letsa Go

What the hell is her outfit? What happened to the badass cargo pants and crop top long-sleeved shirt?

She got pinned down by two guys in less than five minutes, what the fuck.

Ron’s character is... surprisingly lovable?

Wait, where’s Rufus?

Okay, no, why is the transmitter on her chest, I don’t get it.

It’s sparkly pink goop. It’s just sparkly pink fucking goop.

Her identity is supposed to be a SECRET what is this MESS girl I do not APPROVE.

I’m not against Kim wearing different clothes, but a red head wearing that cherry nightmare with bright pink shoes is not working for me.

Open your own damn window, Jesus Christ.

She nabbed a stroller with a grappling hook, but it rolled up back up the hill instead of towards her. ‘Cause... that’s how physics works.

Dead ass just stood in front of everybody on the bus for a minute straight like she was somebody. Nobody is impressed with your shit, Kim, sit your ass down.

Drakken is pretending to drown Kim in the toilet and I’m concerned.

Shego is actually okay. She’s certainly salty enough. Her personality is a little darker, but I can roll with it.

Ron IS livestreaming your first day of school, let him live Kim. You’re parting the Red Sea of high schoolers, he can do what he wants.

I’m still worried about the lack of Rufus.

Why is Wade not in school? Did that question ever really get answered?

Ron, tie your shoelaces.

Wait, Kim’s not really going to try out for soccer instead of cheerleading just because Bonnie told her to, right?

I bet that inconvenient classroom switch makes them late.

Yep. Now they’re labeled on the first day of high school. That’s not in any plot about high schools EVER.

Does nobody have to stop at their lockers?

Kim! Ron doesn’t have a grappling hook! Don’t break into vents you psycho, just run in the halls like everyone else, damnit!

Eternity leave. I want this movie to be on eternity leave.

‘Slightly exploded’

Excuse you, Shego, but Ron was there which means Drakken was stopped by TWO puny kids.

This is Ron’s BEST first day of school? This soft, curly boi-

Kim do NOT try out for soccer! You are a CHEERLEADER!

Is that... a pink, crop top, COLLARED SHIRT? I am DISGUSTED with this.

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Kim was a cheerleader to set an example! She showed young girls that you don’t have to act all prissy and frufru in order to cheer and they just THREW IT DOWN THE FUCKING DRAIN BY MAKING HER CONFORM TO HER SCHOOL’S SOCIAL NORMS I’M-

Kim, oh my fucking god, stop showing off. The poor girl just had a bad day, she doesn’t need a fucking cartwheel.

I love Athena’s hair. It is a beautiful mess.

NACHOS!! Ron, you soft soft boi. Still missing a Rufus, though.

Ron Stop-PITBULL why is this the funniest thing in the movie so far, I’m cackling.

Tardy Party strikes again and Kim is STILL WEARING PINK.

THE OLD OUTFIT. THERE IT IS THERE IT IS THERE IT IS THERE IT IS

Athena’s dancing is the most relatable thing.

Born to be Kim’s BFF? And Athena feels the same way? tbh, those lines were delivered very awkwardly. Suspicious 100%

If I see one more useless, out of context cartwheel from Kim I will scream. 

Damn, Athena got MOVES. I bet she’s been training to take down Kim. That’s gonna be the big twist.

Still think Athena is low-key a traitor, but what do you mean the best version Athena can be? Athena is already beautiful you piece of absolute shit!

‘Out-Kim’ Kim? Pippy fucking Longstocking could ‘out-Kim’ Kim. SUPER GROVER could ‘out-Kim’ Kim.

I know Kim ain’t about to get jealous of Athena even though she was the one that suggested the haircut.

Why the hell is Poppy Blue here now?

Kim is an expert in tax laws, has a head start on her midterms, controls advanced technology on a regular basis, and still didn’t know that WASN’T an apple tree?

She’s actually jealous Athena! This is bullshit! I hate it! I’m still suspicious of her, but STILL.

RUFUS!! YAS!! MY BOIS ARE FINALLY TOGETHER!!

Wade’s not buying your bullshit, Kim.

‘Did you get demoted?’ Girl, I fuckin’ WISH.

Let Athena help, goddamn, she’s better at this than you are anyway.

Kim. Ron said he got it first. That means MOVE.

Go Athena, go! Go Athena, go! Shut the fuck up, Kim! Athena is busy kicking ass! Go Athena, go!

Shego knows what’s up. Athena’s WAY better at this than Kim. Definitely traitor material.

Aw, look at all the high schoolers playing with broomsticks.

Bonnie is a bitch, but Kim totally deserves it. Athena is just happy to be part of the team, she’s good at what she does, and she’s not getting a big head about it. Kim needs to step off.

So Kim is tryna learn the bo staff just because Athena used one. Kim, you jealous piece of shit.

Okay, now she’s crying. The producers are trying REALLY hard to make her relatable, but if she wanted to be her own person so bad then she would have tried out for cheerleading like she wanted, not shown off all the time, and she DEFINITELY wouldn’t have conformed just because some sophomore told her to..

She’s skipping school because she got an F?! What the hell is this movie?!

God bless Ron Stoppable.

School has been in session for, like, a month, and Athena has already been voted homecoming queen. Way to go, you.

See, Athena still asked for Kim’s help! She doesn’t believe she’s any better than Kim is, she just admires the hell out of her favorite hero. Either that or she’s still in the process of betraying her. It’s one or the other.

Throw her the damn staff!

FUCK YOU KIM I SWEAR TO GOD!!

Athena just got kidnapped. So either Kim finds her and apologizes for being a bitch or they reveal she was a traitor.

Ron asking the real questions. You wanted to save people by using a weapon you don’t know how to use? Yeah, how’d that go?

Did Kim just have an identity crisis and then fix it within the same ten minutes?

I KNEW IT!! PICK UP THE DAMN PHONE BECAUSE I CAAAAALLED IT!! ATHENA A TRAITOOOOOOOOR!!

They can all just switch outfits in two seconds, damn.

And now Shego and Drakken are going to double-cross Athena because they’re the ~bad guys~ so spoopy yes with your painfully obvious manical laughter.

How long is this tragedy?

Calling Kim out on her shit, yas Athena! I know she’s technically a bad guy now but she’s still a better character than Kim.

A robot. I... wasn’t expecting that. I probably should have been expecting that. But I wasn’t expecting that. Hm.

Kim having a break down while staring at pictures of herself. Is that not a midlife crisis?

Ron hitting an electric cage to get to his friend is the purest thing I’ve seen in this movie so far.

Bet Rufus saves everyone though.

Everyone else: ‘Uuuuuugh the evil plan reveal.’

Ron: ‘Let him finish, bro.’

Athena will be destroyed. Double crossed. Can this stupid move be ANY MORE PREDICTABLE?

Oh of course, NOW she thinks of Athena as a friend. Just in time for some last minute character development to try and fix over an hour of bitchery.

Stay away from the side of the electric cage. Really? Ya think?

Rufus saved the day, wooooot!

Why is Drakken a cute kid? WHY IS DRAKKEN A CUTE KID? And how was that the side effect???

And the very original ‘Run the place is gonna blow’ bit in three... two... one...

Kim been a such a bitch to Athena this whole movie and she’s still protecting the little brat. I literally hate this movie so fucking much.

Rufus found Athena!

Shit. Rufus found Athena’s hand.

No wait! There she is!

ATHENA NO!! KIM IS NOT A GOOD FRIEND!! ACTING LIKE A GOOD PERSON ONE TIME DOES MAKE YOU A GOOD PERSON!!

A martial arts club? Are you fucking serious? What. About. CHEERLEADING?!!

SHEGO IS MOMMING DRAKKEN. SHE IS MOMMING HIM AND I AM LIVING FOR IT.

Ron is a better character than Kim. Athena is a better character than Kim. Shego and Drakken are better characters than Kim. The cat obsessed teacher is a better character than Kim. Everyone is a better character than Kim.

FINALLY OVER!! I’M SO HAPPY THIS IS MOVIE IS DONE OH MY FUCKING GOD!! I’M GONNA GO WATCH RISE OF THE GUARDIANS AND MAKE MYSELF BETTER BYE BITCHES!!

[rnisa]

Sorry to answer this as its own post and not a reply to the actual question, but I hate how Tumblr mobile doesn’t allow you to format question responses! I talked too much and might have gone slightly off topic or given details you may have not been interested in, if so, I apologize! I bolded some stuff that way you can quickly browse and read from whatever point looks good to you, and skip the rest! I included his relationshipS with other characters bc I think he’s a very social being who fears being alone by himself, with his thoughts. If you want me to try again without mentioning other members I will, just let me know!

Fuck yeah! Hit me with that, “there’s-more-to-him-than-bombs” Junkrat!

So, I honestly feel that upon first joining Overwatch, he would spend the majority of his time alone (though, when I say alone, I mean with Roadhog, even if he’s doing all the talking Roadhog is always there to listen) busying himself with his hobbies. Now that he’s got to have a clean slate from here on out (no more crime sprees, drat!) I think he would become quite bored, and instead of coming up with plans for heists, he becomes the new, er…“mastermind” for minor, frivolous quests. For example; someone’s misplaced a possession or important object? Junkrat’s on the case! Pretty soon he’s coming up with this big idea on how to locate the thing, return it to the owner, be a hero AAAAAAAND nevermind, it was just hiding under the couch all along. Junkrat won’t be needed any longer (not that they requested his aid in the first place).

Some of the agents would be pretty annoyed with his antics. At first, he’d try befriending others. Being nice. Casual conversation, jokes, trying to make them laugh…and nothing works. He never really gives up, but there comes a point where he tries a little less.

I headcanon that Lucio and D.Va are the first ones to warm up to him. Initially out of pity, they reach out to him. He’s a bit wary, kind of snappy and guarded. I mean, the boy’s trusting but given how everyone else had treated him until this point, can you blame him?

Lucio and Hana are the closest to him in age. They invite him to do things! Going out for a casual stroll, playing games, watching movies, maintaining each other’s weapons, etc. Stuff normal young adults do, right?

Once he’s made these two new friends, I imagine he’d spend plenty of time with them. It gives Roadhog a break (I have my own ideas for who he bonds with, but that’s for another ask if anyone’s interested) from his silly antics, and it’s good for Junkrat to be spending time with people his own age.

Junkrat likes to draw. He likes arts and crafts. He’s fucking terrible, but he thinks he’s great. Please, let him think he’s great. He and Hana hung out before and decided to make friendship bracelets. Junkrat made a sculpture of trash meant to resemble her mech (she loved it!) They spent a lot of time inspecting her mech, and Junkrat offers to…“upgrade” it (honestly? This is how I imagine her new missiles came to be and I think that’s one of the cutest headcanons I’ve ever thought). Junkrat feels like he can go to her a lot with his feelings.

Also in his spare time, Junkrat likes to explore. Sure, he’s been around the world and back, he’s seen a lot - as a criminal. He’d love to revisit certain places (and not stealing anything this time) to just have fun, and socialize. Lucio is more than happy to invite Junkrat to travel on his tours. Not only does Junkrat get to enjoy his pals music, but it gives him healthy exposure to “regular” people. Unfortunately, Junkrat’s learned the hard way not to mention that he’s best buds with the guy on stage. Few people, boys and girls have tried using Junkrat in an attempt to get to Lucio. Now, he just says he’s a big fan that happens to always have VIP backstage access.

So yeah, if you couldn’t tell, I think he’d be best friends with those two. When he’s not with them, I can see him as the type to just wander around (with Roadhog, more often than not) go to parks, feed some fuckin’ birds, and strike up conversation with random people. He feels good when he makes others laugh, whether it’s by a story or joke he’s told. Junkrat attracts very kind-hearted people, those who look past his appearance and that sort of strangeness he’s got. He doesn’t like to be alone. Sleeping is difficult. His thoughts can travel to dark places very quickly, especially in dead silence.

He is good with kids. I think he’s the type that a kid could see as trusted, someone that always makes them laugh. However, the parents probably wouldn’t like that on first glance. I don’t like to talk skins much, but perhaps his Jester skin could be him street-performing, or perhaps he’s gone and cheered up a crying child. Perhaps he finds a lost kid and returns him to their family. As a clown/jester/whateverthefuck, he can pass off his personality as acceptable in the silly get-up and face paint. No matter how he’s dressed though, children adore him and he’d make a great babysitter.

Eventually, I think he and Mei would become friends. I’d imagine this is at some point where perhaps she’s in a bind, stuck trying to fix something, or a particular problem and Junkrat helps out. It’d take a long time, but once he demonstrates that he is actively becoming a better person , she realizes how intelligent he truly is, and how different things would be if he were born in a different place. She does feel sadness at how his potential is seemingly wasted, yet in time she grows to appreciate how he’s not stupid - he’s just smarter in a different way than she is. There are fields in which she excels that he does not, just as there are fields in which he excels, that she does not. They become good co-workers, and does not mind when he asks her to help him out with reading.

So speaking of that, he enjoys listening to others read. Likes watching other people work. Bonds with Torbjorn in an almost father-son way (THAT SHIT IS MAD CUTE).

Gonna stop there because this looks long enough already on mobile. I’m so sorry if any of this isn’t what you asked for, sometimes I have difficulty comprehending even simple things;;; my bad.