#literally had to reel myself back after going so hard on the shit talk | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

honeypiehotchner · 4 years ago

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Hey, Reid! I actually have an idea for a headcannon or one-shot. So, I love how realistic your writing is because you tackle a lot of topics (PTSD, sexual assault, etc.) Can you do one on how Hotch were to react if he gets into an argument with y/n and sees her flinch when he tries to raise his hand to rub his face because she thought she was gonna get hit? Like, I think he would be so concerned for her and tries to reassure her that he won't hurt her like her ex did. I saw this based on a tik tok on how each bau member would react if they see y/n flinch during an argument. If this is a too touchy subject to do, I will understand, and if you wanna do it with a gender neutral partner instead, that works too ^^

Thank you so much for this request bby!! I loved writing this dose of fluff xx.

Also I think this is pretty gender neutral, but he does call reader “Honey”!

Small disclaimer that everyone’s PTSD looks different and this is not the sole decider of how PTSD has to affect you to be “valid.” This is just a depiction and I did draw from my own personal symptoms (especially the “being okay right after a freak out” because lord knows I suppress shit and let it get me days later)

HOTCH MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

Down to Earth

You’ve been with Aaron for what feels like forever, but really has only been a little over a year. In this year, you’ve felt more at peace with him than you’ve felt in any other relationship.

But like every relationship, nothing is always perfect.

The two of you haven’t had a single argument -- until now.

You’re a fairly understanding person. When he has to leave suddenly for a case, you don’t mind. When he gets caught up in work and suddenly it’s almost nine at night and he’s still at the BAU, you just laugh. When he wants to go everywhere possible with you because he’s having a hard day with his anxiety (even if he won’t admit it), you let him follow you around like your personal bodyguard.

You knew what you signed up for when you took things further than a few dinner dates. You understand.

Which is why tonight’s argument is so stupid.

“I just need a straight answer. That’s all.”

“I don’t know what else you want me to say,” you shrug. “I literally don’t care, Aaron.”

“I don’t want to make all the decisions,” he replies. “I want you to have some say.”

“But I don’t mind it if you make the decisions.”

“It feels one-sided, and I don’t want that.”

“It’s fine, I swear.”

“I can see on your face that it’s not.”

“Don’t profile me, we talked about this.”

“I’m not profiling you, I’m just trying to get you to tell me the truth for once.”

“Well, I--”

Your sentence stops abruptly when you gasp, flinching, raising both of your arms in an X in front of your face.

And just like that, the argument is dropped.

All Aaron had done was raise his hand to run his fingers through his hair. But in the midst of an argument -- and on one of your worse days with your PTSD -- you legitimately thought he was pulling his hand back to hit you.

“Y/N…” He slowly lowers his hand, gaze softening when he hears you sniffling. “Honey…”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, your arms still raised. You know he would never, ever hurt you, but you can’t move them. You’re trying, but it’s like all your muscles have tensed, refusing to let you move. “I won’t do it again, I’m sorry,” you say, rushing your words now. “Just please, don’t…”

It’s not until Aaron hears these words leave your lips that he realizes you’re not here right now -- at least not in your mind.

He doesn’t know anything about your past relationship. He put a few pieces together and knew it wasn’t necessarily a happy relationship, but he had no idea it was that bad.

“Y/N, it’s Aaron,” he pauses, mind reeling, trying to figure out how to get you back. “Can you hear me?”

“I won’t-- I’m sorry, please--”

“Y/N, you’re at my apartment with me. Can you open your eyes?”

You hear his voice this time and you open your eyes, a gasp falling from your lips as you yank your arms down to your sides. “I’m so sorry--”

“What are you apologizing for?” He asks softly. “You have no reason to apologize, Y/N.”

“Okay…” You say, flexing your fingers to ease some tension. “Well, still, about--”

“No, no we don’t need to talk about that anymore,” he shakes his head. “It’s not a big deal and I think this is more important.” He pauses. “But if you don’t want to talk about it, I...I completely understand. No pressure.”

You exhale, balling your hands into fists. “We can talk.”

“Okay. Wanna sit down?” He gestures to the couch.

You nod.

“Can I sit next to you?” He asks, and you’re grateful for his ever kind heart.

“Of course,” you smile. “Please.” And when he still sits a little too far away, you tug him closer. “You’re not going to break me.”

“I know that,” he says, smiling when you take his hand. “Are you okay?”

You have no idea how, but you are. “I am. I’m sorry I freaked out.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” he says again, sandwiching your hand between both of his. “You can’t control your reactions.”

He’s right, even though you have suppressed them for a very long time. “I try to. I don’t want to scare you.”

“I don’t want to ever scare you,” he says, squeezing your hand. “I’m sorry that I did.”

“It wasn’t you.” He gives you a look with a hint of disbelief. “Okay, it was the sudden movement, I think. With your hand.”

“Okay,” he nods. He had already pieced that together, but now isn’t the time for him to talk about how he silently profiles you. “I’ll be more conscious of that.”

“Honestly,” you chuckle, “I’m not sure how you haven’t pieced it all together before now.” You pause, looking up from his hands. “Have you? Be honest.”

“Some things,” he admits. “Little things. Your problem with eye contact and agreement to everything -- and I should not have approached the topic that way. We’re both tired and that wasn’t the correct way to talk about it.”

“It’s…” He raises his eyebrows and you stop before you can say okay. “Right. I see now.”

“I gathered that the relationship, whatever it was, wasn’t healthy, but I never wanted to bring it up until you were ready. And I know it goes without saying, but I want to say it anyway. I will never lay a hand on you. I promise.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, lifting your free hand to stroke his cheek. “You have been so kind to me and I never know what to do with myself.” You shake your head slowly, smiling. “It’s like every time I start floating away, you’re right here, pulling me back down to earth.”

He lets go of your hand to wrap his fingers around your wrist, keeping your hand on his cheek so that when he turns his head, he kisses your open palm. “I’ll always be here to pull you back down.”

You let some silence pass before you say what you’ve been hiding all this time.

“He used to hit me,” you whisper. “It’s why it had been five years since I went on a date. Honestly, if Dave didn’t speak so highly of you, I don’t know that I would’ve even said yes that night. But I’m glad I did.”

“I’m glad you did, too.”

You smile softly. ��Everything about you is so different from what he was. You’re such a gentle giant, you know that?”

He chuckles at the new description. “I guess I do now.”

“I just want you to know your gentleness never goes unnoticed or unappreciated. I love it. It makes me feel safe and loved and cared for. And I’m not used to it at all yet, but...I hope I’ll get there.” You pause. “I was having a rough day today with flashbacks and things. Today was our anniversary, but none of them were ever good, so I’ve been on edge.”

“Honey…”

“Even though I know nothing will happen because he’s gone and nothing bad has happened on this day for six years, it still… I still can’t shake it.”

“Well, let’s do everything we can to make the rest of this day the best day,” he says. “Let’s order your favorite for dinner. You pick the movie, and we can sit on the couch until we want to go to bed.”

“And then?”

“And then…?” He waits for your answer.

“And then...you make sweet love to me all night and go into work late tomorrow?” You add a shy grin, hoping to convince him.

But he needs no convincing. “Gladly,” he says, leaning forward to kiss you sweetly, softly, pulling you back to earth, weighed down with all his love.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner one shot #tw ptsd #ptsd tw #tw mentions of past abuse

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whythinktoomuch · 4 years ago

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ii. apocalypse now & again

(pt. i)

Kara woke up and realized that she was going to die.

Too many of the drones had survived the explosions and were still closing in on her. What little strength she had left after quite literally digging her own grave was presently and painstakingly strained just from her efforts to climb onto her knees. And on top of all that—of everything that possibly could have gone wrong for her in this moment—her helmet was cracked.

The abstract red numbers warning Kara of the kryptonite levels in the area seemed redundant now, what with that unmistakable chill already flooding her bloodstream.

“… Alex,” Kara gasped out, barely able to hear herself over the ringing in her ears. “Hey, Alex… Are you there?”

Her words were met with not one whisper or even a crackle of static, and for once, Kara was inconsolably disappointed to hear no one yelling back at her. With her teeth gritted, she shoved herself off the ground as hard as she could, drifting barely a foot into the air before the first drone crashed into the back of her head.

Kara toppled back onto the ground, knees skidding across the rubble in a shower of hot sparks. The impact had her head reeling, her mouth filling with a taste that she was now idly recognizing as blood. But there was no time to consider any of that as the drone doubled back. Kara scrambled out of the way, narrowly avoiding another collision, only to be struck by a second drone smashing right against her ear.

Out of breath but swearing, Kara whirled around and snagged the fast approaching drone into a bear hug, squeezing and squeezing until it crunched in her arms with a frantic whir. Then with a burst of heat vision, she shattered the other as it came straight for her face.

Kara used her heat vision to pick off several more drones from a distance, but of course, more and more just showed up to take their place, never wavering, never slowing… and eventually, Kara just had to laugh. Because her exhaustion was catching up to her. And Alex was hundreds of miles away. And to get out of here alive, Kara would have to somehow defeat the entire horde of drones, while all they had to do was wreck her suit a little more.

Though admittedly, it’d be overkill at this point, given the crack now spiderwebbing across the glass visor of Kara’s helmet.

Either way, it was over.

So, Kara laughed, grabbed at her chest in a reflexive gesture only to meet the unforgiving metal of her suit, then dropped to her knees. “Alex!” she shouted herself hoarse, because maybe if said loudly enough, the words would still be lingering in the air by the time her sister arrived. “Alex, I’m sorry, okay? You were right, and I’m sorry!”

Then she just waited—chest heaving, eyes narrowed but never blinking despite the heat pricking at the corners—because she definitely had to see this through to the bitter fucking end. That much, she owed everyone, including herself.

Except the end didn’t come.

Not this time anyway.

No, instead came a silver sphere, emerging seemingly out of thin air to hover right before Kara’s face. It flashed a blinding white just once, and everything fell absolutely silent and still. Kara’s suit powered down completely, the drones collectively dropped from the air like marionettes with cut strings, and all the lights in the immediate vicinity blinked out.

Laughter welling up all over again, Kara could only collapse onto her side in something akin to sheer relief.

The first person to occur to her, of course, was Alex, who had already saved her ass from similar scrapes on many occasions. But that couldn’t be it. Alex was too far away. It’s why Kara had to take on this mission on her own in the first place.

Then she considered maybe Winn or James, which made even less sense, given how the deceased hardly ever came back to do things like save people’s lives. Not even hers. Not even in the most dire of situations. That’s, unfortunately, just not how life worked these days.

Then she considered Alex again because the kryptonite was clearly bleeding into her brain now, and it was getting rather difficult to remember why it couldn’t have been Alex who’d just saved her. Maybe Kara did shout loud enough after all…

But then, a set of footfalls drew near, metal scraping against metal at a steady pace until a heavy boot struck Kara firmly in the chest, flipping her onto her back where she settled with a grunt.

“So glad I got to you first,” came a self-assured drawl, and Kara promptly found herself face to face with a handheld cannon of sorts. “Would be a pity to come all this way and not get to kill you myself.”

And… Kara’s jaw just dropped.

Not because of the words, nor the intentions behind them—though perhaps they both merited some attention as well—but that voice.

Kara gaped up at her supposed knight in shining, lead-lined armor because her voice—that low, husky tone paired with that very specific lilting cadence—was making her reconsider some very fundamental things about how the world might work.

Namely, that people wouldn’t come back from the dead just to save her life.

Mind still reeling away, Kara tried to sit up, only to be slammed back into the ground, hard.

“Down, girl,” Lena said, grinding her boot into Kara’s chest, the weight of her entire body behind the gesture. But that was fine.

It was fine because Kara could still draw some breath into her lungs, could still use some of that breath to talk, and she could certainly still say some things that she hadn’t uttered aloud in many a year. Like her late wife’s name, for instance.

The cannon in Kara’s face wavered, but didn’t lower. “Shut up,” Lena hissed down at her. “Don’t talk. Don’t even think.”

“So… it is you…” Kara said, and she gently wrapped her fingers around Lena’s ankle—the only part of her that she could still reach from her position—and just cried.

With a startled gasp, Lena stumbled away, wrenching herself out of Kara’s grip. “What the fuck…? What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Kara sobbed out, trying not to choke on her own tears and snot and the slight taste of blood still lingering on her tongue. She suddenly, irrationally, wished that she could just take off her clunky suit. Just to eliminate some of that distance between her and Lena. Just so she could touch the chain hanging around her neck without any hindrance. “Just… just wanted to say, hi.”

Lena kept her distance, studying Kara in a stony silence, and Kara started to see things that she should probably would have noticed sooner if her body weren’t actively shutting down on her. Like the green glow of Lena’s weapon and the kryptonite cartridges strapped to her belt. Or that she was clearly wearing a lexo-suit. Or how the swirly edges of her own vision were starting to darken, and how the chill of kryptonite was currently all she could feel.

“Hey,” Kara called out, sniffling only slightly now. “Am I dreaming?”

“… No.”

Kara nodded thoughtfully to herself. “Okay, cool, cool… So, I think I might be dying then.”

“Yeah,” Lena said, after a brief pause. “Probably.”

“Cool.” Kara tried to flash a thumbs up, but no part of her body wanted to cooperate anymore. Her exhaustion had eaten up all her drive. “Hey, can you tell Alex something for me?”

Lena sighed, but she finally stepped closer, practically in reach. “Okay, sure.”

Kara fumbled for some words and the correct order that one might put them in, but then Lena took off her helmet, and nothing else mattered anymore. Because Kara was perfectly content to just watch that ripple of dark hair, streaked with a light gray that was just… nice to look at.

She never got to see her Lena’s hair do that.

Kara’s shoulder was being shaken so violently that she had no choice but to open her eyes and see Alex’s worry-creased face peering down at her.

“Dumbass…” Alex grumbled, releasing Kara’s shoulder with a dirty scowl. “That’s the last time I let you go anywhere without me.”

“Whatever you say, director.” Kara laughed, but it hurt. She then tried to do a salute, but her everything was still too weak to move apparently. But at least she was still alive.

… Wait.

Kara repeatedly tried to sit up on her bed, and Alex repeatedly shoved her right back down until she gave up. But still, she had to check, had to know that it wasn’t all just a dream.

“Where’s Lena?” she demanded, and the look that Alex gave her in response was so deeply pained that Kara almost felt pathetic for asking.

“… Kara.”

“No, I saw her, Alex,” Kara said, shaking her head, then immediately stopping when her entire body somehow got dizzy from it. “Shit. Ow, ow… But wait, no—But seriously, I saw her, okay?”

“I’m not surprised that you did. You almost died, Kara. Actually, I’m pretty sure that you were dead for a few minutes back there. Again, I say, you fucking dumbass.”

“But I didn’t die. Because she saved me,” Kara insisted. “No, seriously! She took out all the drones with some sort of EMP device, and, and… we talked! And she had gray hair, and I think maybe laugh lines? And yeah, I almost died because my helmet got cracked and stuff. But now, I’m here and I’m fine, so… everything’s fine, right?”

Alex frowned, then somehow settled on the least important part of Kara’s briefing, “You cracked your helmet?”

“Ugh, yeah. The glass visor part. When I fell,” Kara said, waving her hand dismissively. “So sorry about that, by the way.”

“Suit looked fine when we got to you,” Alex said with a shrug, before irritably exclaiming, “Jesus christ, Kara, enough! I’ll just have a guy get the helmet for you, okay? So, just stop trying to get up already.”

Huffing, Kara fell back onto her bed with her arms folded and waited. But when someone eventually showed up with her helmet in tow, she was surprised to see that it was somewhat worse for the wear but perfectly intact. Even up close, with the helmet out the tech’s hands and in her own, Kara couldn’t detect even the slightest blemish in the glass.

Pouting ever so slightly, Kara shoved the helmet back into the tech’s arms.

“… Satisfied?” Alex asked, rolling her eyes when Kara just shrugged one shoulder. “Great. Listen… You just need to get some rest, okay? Once you’re back to full strength, we can work through your… you know, memories together. And hopefully, it’ll make more sense by then. Sound good?”

Kara just nodded, suddenly all too willing to be left to her own devices in the relative quiet and darkness. She accepted a gentle shoulder squeeze and the promise of another session with the sun lamps within the hour, and just curled up under the sheets.

It’s not like she hadn’t conjured up images of Lena before. Kara had been close to death enough times that it was only inevitable that she’d fall back onto memories of her dead wife at some point or another. But this was different. Whenever her brain was just playing tricks on her, Lena appeared to her the way Kara remembered her: warm and loving, bright green eyes, long dark hair smelling of lavender, and alive and young.

Never before had Kara encountered an appropriately aged version of Lena, with creases gathered around her eyes and forehead, hair gloriously faded into the most lovely blend of light grays and white amongst all that black… The Lena that could have been if only she had lived out all these past years alongside Kara.

And she was never in a lexo-suit, of all things. Lena was always wearing one of her classic pencil skirts or Kara’s NCU sweatshirt, or something. Oh, and of course, her wedding band.

Instinctively, the same way she always did when it occurred to her, Kara reached for the chain around her neck, seeking out the familiar weight of the rings that hung from there… only to jolt upright with a gasp that dried up her entire throat.

She ripped the necklace off her head, almost snapping the chain, which in and of itself was telling. Because her chain had been forged out of an extraterrestrial metal amalgamation that not even the Girl of Steel would have been able to break. The one now clutched in her hand, however, was just plain white gold.

Heart pounding in her ears, Kara stared down at an engagement ring fitted with a modest cut of diamond, somehow occupying the very spot where two simple wedding bands—hers and her Lena’s—should have been. Then something drove her to check for an inscription, and sure enough, engraved on the inside of the ring was a series of kryptonian characters, denoting a term of endearment that Kara had never used, but apparently could have in another world altogether: my dearest heart.

#2222 words because that's how i get my kicks n' giggles hue hue hue hue #will there be a part three? who knows #better question is Should there be a part three amirite?#my words.

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roger-that-cap · 4 years ago

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tolerate it

part 2/2 of cardigan!

so, this is the follow up to my first ever one shot (guess not anymore LMAO) up here! i sincerely hope that you guys like this, because it was like pulling teeth for this one. every now and again i’d find a golden one and smack it in there and hope that one decent line made up for all the others.

natasha romanoff x fem!reader

this was the hardest thing ive ever had to write (simply because there was so much emotion in it and it was hard to reel myself back in just to cast out again) and i had to write a paper on nathaniel hawthorne.

warnings: pretty angsty for me, bittersweet, um- why do i write angst, DRAMATICS hahaha

word count: 4.5k!

would like to remind you that i do not own taylor swift songs! this one borrows a little from tolerate it, the best song on evermore imho (tied with coney island).

You knew that opening the door was going to be a hard part, but what you didn’t prepare for was actually listening to her. You could have stared at her for eternity in silence, just harping on everything good and bad that ever happened between the two of you. You could imagine a thousand different scenarios where the two of you were happy and none of this had occurred, but that wasn’t the case. She didn’t come to you to stare and leave.

“Thank you,” Natasha said, her voice throaty as she took a cautious first step into your space. Your space. It sounded weird, and you knew that it felt weird to her. You two had shared everything for the longest, and now you had your own place to live in. “Thank you for letting me in.”

“You came to talk,” you said, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively, and she didn’t miss the obvious tell of your body language. “I won’t make you waste your time. Say your piece, and then...” you trailed off, both of you knowing full well where you were going with it.

“Can I just start with the fact that I’m so sorry,” she blurted, and you have her an unamused look as you sat on your couch, and she sat on the edge of it. “And that I don’t know why that happened. I don’t expect for you to ever forgive me, and I don’t forgive myself. I won’t ever forgive myself for hurting you so badly, and having such a lapse in judgement. I’m sorry.”

“What was it that was different?” You asked, the question that had been haunting you for a while now finally escaping your lips. When she gave you a confused look, you stared back at her. “What was so different about whatever happened on the mission?”

You didn’t ask what you did wrong, because you didn’t do anything wrong. It took you weeks to know that, weeks to come to the conclusion, but you knew. It wasn’t anything that you lacked, it was something that Natasha did. Whether it was loyalty, restraint, a moral compass, or even something else, you didn’t think that it was you.

“There was nothing different.”

You were trying to hold it together, but you knew that you were seconds from falling apart right in front of the person who had destroyed you. “You don’t have to lie.”

She made a face. “There wasn’t. There was nothing about her that was better than you, I swear.”

But there was nothing different. There was nothing different in the way that you held her to the way that Abigail did, then. There must have been nothing different in the way that you kissed her in the morning. Nothing special about how you would dance with her on the third of the month simply because you liked the number three. There was nothing special about the way you held her hand and rubbed her back and sometimes sang her to sleep when she needed it. And there was certainly nothing different or special about the way that you let her put her head on your chest, just so that she could hear your heart beating.

Maybe what you did was different or special to you and not to her. And maybe it was time for you to finally realize it, whether it hurt or not.

Your emotions were threatening to come through, and you couldn’t have that happen. “I thought you came to talk. Talking requires truth.”

“I did,” she rushed, and then she sighed and wiped her palms on her thighs. You knew what that was. Of course you knew what she was. That was her being nervous. “I just wanted you to know that I love you, I love you so much, no matter what you choose. I never meant for any of it to happen, and I hate myself for making you feel that way.”

“You knew what happened with the others,” you said, and you knew that she knew that you were talking about the men who used to cheat on you without thinking twice. You saw her wince. “You knew how I felt about dishonesty. You knew how long it took me to be fully trusting of you, and you ruined it for two months of fun?”

“I know I did.”

“Do you know that, Natasha?” You asked, your voice starting to raise a bit. “I trusted you, and then I gave you everything I had. There wasn’t a piece of me that wasn’t for you, don’t you get that? I painted a portrait of us with the best colors I had and you opened the door on me doing the finishing touches and threw black paint over it.”

She was surprised that you were actually allowing yourself to be angry, and that made you even more upset. You were allowed to be pissed. “I’m sorry,” she breathed out, a thin layer of tears in her eyes.

“I did- I had everything lying out on the table for you emotionally. It was wrapped so pretty for you when I helped you through your own stuff, and it waited until you were ready. There wasn’t a thing you didn’t know, not a secret kept from you. And I still can’t believe that you returned me being in love with you, with that.”

“It didn’t mean anything to me. None of it meant anything to me at all, I swear.”

“It meant something to Abigail,” you said, and you saw her flinch. “It meant something to the girl that told you that she loved you. And if I’m not mistaken, you told her the same. So did it really not mean something, or are you an even larger liar than I thought?”

“It didn’t mean anything.” For a spy, she was quite easy to read. Or maybe you just spent so much time knowing her that it was impossible to not know her inside and out. You knew her every movement that she made when she lied, and you knew what she looked like when she was telling the truth. This, this wasn’t it.

And it destroyed you.

“Don’t you understand how that feels? It feels like being cut a thousand times by the fancy blade that you made yourself. It feels like being bitten by your own dog. It feels like being nearly drowned in the oceans that you’ve swam in for forever. We were so close! We were so close that I was sure that we were predestined or some of that cheesy shit, Natasha. I could have sworn that we were meant for each other, but now I know that we were, because the betrayal that you did cut me down into a million pieces. That was something that neither of the others were able to do. That’s something that only you could do, and I trusted you not to do it. I never thought you could do it. I thought that you loved me far too much to pull the shit that you did.

“Maybe I was foolish enough to make the knife right in front of you, but I trusted you to know it was there and not use it against me. And you still stabbed me with it.” Your voice cracked and you could feel warm tears falling into your hand, but you didn’t care. You had to keep going. “How could you see me give and give and give to you, for you, and then tolerate it and go see someone else?”

She was breathing heavily after your rant, like she had spoken the words instead. A singular tear came down her face, and you thanked whoever was sitting above and watching for the crack in her mask. You were begging to see her half as emotional as you, half as hurt by her own actions.

You knew that it was different when you saw her wipe her tear. She never wiped her tears around you. You were the only one who got to see them, but you supposed not even you were allowed to see it anymore.

“I can’t even begin-” her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much I regret what happened.”

“How do you regret-” you pursed your lips and shook your head, closing your eyes for a second as your heart clenched. “How do you regret falling in love with someone?”

“I don’t love her-”

“Do you love me?” You asked.

“More than I love anything else in the entire world.”

“You loved her more if you risked me losing me, Natasha.” You said, and her brows shot up at your conclusion. “You know what would happen if you did that to me and I found out. You knew you would lose me, and you did it anyway. So you two must have had something special. Congrats.”

“No, you’re-”

The temper that you tried to keep in check was bubbling over again, and you realized that there was no checking yourself. “Do you know how long I waited for you and never cheated? Never had sex with anyone else, never went on a date with anyone else? For just as long as you were supposed to! And I managed! So what’s wrong with you?”

“Y/N, I think we should calm down a little. Let’s talk it out for a second.”

“I’ve been talking it out. All by myself, actually, because you’re too afraid to do a damn thing and admit that you fucked up for two months straight.” You closed your eyes again as you felt the hurt come back up. “How do I know it was just that time? How do I know that?”

There was a silence that spoke volumes. “You don’t.”

“And what if we got back together, after all of this?” It was hypothetical, but seeing the hope perk up in her sparked something that you hadn’t felt towards her in forever. Or, you had, it was just smothered by the heat of your fury. “How would I know that you aren’t off pulling the same thing you did earlier?”

“You’d have to trust me.”

“Well, I can’t do that. I literally can’t,” you cried out, putting your head in your hands and shaking you head. It was quiet except for the sounds of your cries, and it was ominous. There was never a quiet moment between you and Natasha, but you were dying out, fizzling away. You already had your Big Bang, now you were creating black holes that would forever remain on opposite sides of the universe. And you both knew it.

“You- you humiliated me,” you shook your head from left to right again, face still hidden. “You had an affair with a younger girl, you did it in front of the people I shared a living space with. You did it shamelessly in front of the people I cooked meals for every day, the people who’s fucking uniforms I ironed! They were my friends too, Natasha, and you humiliated me. You made them keep your dirty secret, did you apologize to them?”

“I haven’t spoken to them much.”

“I had to figure out from Pepper in front of the wedding dress store,” you continued, your throat tightening. “I was there getting the dress that I was going to walk down the aisle in. Everything was perfect, and then you did something that shattered what I thought couldn’t be broken.” You had thought that you and Natasha were rock solid, the hardest stone. You two were diamonds that sparkled and prevailed together, until you learned that you were truly just glass.

She leaned forward, giving you a look that you knew meant honesty. But it was far too late for that, and it wasn’t going to do Natasha much good now. “I wish every second of the day that I didn’t do it, Y/N. Every second of every day.”

Your lips turned into a scowl. “Wishing doesn’t do anything for us. We’re not little kids and we’re not princesses.”

That word, wishing, must have been the one to do her in, because she was sobbing right into her own sleeve, an arm covering her eyes from your sight. Your tears were subsiding, and you watched her with thinly pressed lips. Watching her cry was never pleasant.

“I’m so, so sorry. I can’t- I can’t imagine how you must feel, but I’m so sorry. I don’t know why- I can only apologize to you and beg that you’ll welcome me back to you, where I’m supposed to be.” Your eye twitched as you listened, and told yourself to keep your strength up. “I fucked up. I fucked up so bad, baby, but I know now. I know who I’m meant to be with, and it wasn't her. It’s you, it always has been.”

You knew that. You had always known that. It was a fact, something that had always rang as true as the beating of your own heart. You knew that it was written in the stars for you by some gracious god who decided to reveal what could have been your present and future to you, but you guess the other half of the tale never saw it herself. She knew now, sure. But she learned a little too late for your taste.

“Please, you have to know. You have to know that I didn’t- that I would never do it again.”

How could you tell someone that their apology wasn’t enough? How could you reject someone when they were at their lowest point? How were you going to find the strength in yourself to turn down the woman that you still very much loved? The one that you thought that you lost to another was right in front of you, begging for a second chance, but was it right for you to give it to her?

But how could she see you at your most vulnerable every day and know that you loved and cared for her with your whole heart and still do what she did? How was she okay with ruining you after all that you had been through? How did she not feel bad for two months about betraying the one person who she knew would be forever in her corner?

Whatever her method was to do things that hurt the people she supposedly loved, she found a way. And so would you.

“Have you said what you needed to?” You asked, your tone slow and deliberate as you fought for your tears not to ruin your words. Just as slowly, she nodded. “Then, please leave.”

A noise left her throat. “Please, wait. Wait.”

“There’s nothing left to say, Nat. We said it all.” You stood up, and she followed. “Fix your relationships at the tower, alright?”

“Don’t,” she muttered, tears streaming down her face. “Please don’t tell me that you don’t want to try and then act like you care about me.”

You both walked to the door, because you knew that I the end she would do what you asked of her. “We were friends first.” You insisted. “We were friends first, Natasha, so I care. So, because we were friends first, I’ll tell you to get better. Work on yourself. Fall in love with someone else. Maybe not with two people at the same time.”

Her face was utterly pitiful. Her eyes were watering in a way you had never seen them do before, and her hands were shaking. You had seen the most of Natasha that anyone had in the entire world, yet you had never seen her so torn apart, so open. She laid it all out for you like you had been doing for her for years, and now you were finally the one to ruin the pretty picture. “Please.”

As soft as a gentle breeze came your next word. “No.” You yanked your apartment door open, and then you were both shivering. She looked up at you, her face full of an expression of the most shattered you had seen her yet, and the part of you that still ached prayed that it would be the last time you would ever see her at all.

Your body moved on its own. It asked for one more point of contact, just one more before you deprived yourself from the person you loved the most. Your lips pressed against the crown of her head as you told yourself it was for your own good. Your eyes shut as you put your hands on her shoulders, and tears were turning spots of her red hair dark. She was shaking underneath you, crying even harder than you were. You pulled away from her and opened the door wider.

“Wish you all the best, Nat.”

She walked away, off of your porch and into the night. You shut the door.

§§

You figured that you would miss her, but it wasn’t as bad as it was in the early part of leaving. By the time you moved on, it was far past the date of the wedding and even further past your anniversary. Sometimes it still hurt to think about how your life could have been had she chosen to stay faithful, but you learned that the scenarios hurt more than they helped and stopped.

You had a steady job, could keep up with the rent on your apartment, had enough for groceries and even had spare to get your nails done if you wanted to. You were doing it all, and you were doing it well after being attached at the hip to someone else for years and years.

There was a time where you would have thought that living without Natasha would be excruciating. The first night after you stormed out and cried yourself to sleep, you were sure that it would be painful, every night without her next to you would be like a stab in the gut. But after a while, it really wasn’t.

At first, it was. You missed her terribly, and, a part of you still did. You missed the good things that happened, but you realized that the good didn’t erase the bad, and that the bad didn’t erase the good. So, after a long time of thinking about her, your stance on Natasha Romanoff wasn’t hateful, or upset, or vengeful. You barely had one.

You thought about her and saw a book that you had finished reading a long time ago. Impactful at the time you read it, of course, and it could leave a longing imprint, but it was over. You could never relive that exact moment ever again that you read her, not a good one or a bad one. The hardest, most intense part of it was over, so far behind you that you could breathe again.

And damn, did it feel good to breathe.

§§§

Seeing her was awkward, and it was something that came straight out of your outdated imagination. You were by yourself buying apples at the market that you always went to because you adored fresh fruit, checking for bruises on them that were never there. You were carrying four in a bag with a content look on your face, just walking around and looking at other fruits and vegetables when you felt someone’s eyes on you. You looked up.

Sam Wilson was looking right at you, his jaw a little slack as he recognized you. You hadn’t seen him since you stormed out of the compound god knows how long ago. Within seconds, your life at the tower and memories with him flashed in your head. You two would cook together side by side often, and that's where you would do most of your bonding and talking with him. Your heart clenched for a moment, and then you raised the hand that wasn’t occupied and gave him a wave and a half smile, one that you hoped told him that you weren’t angry.

You looked back to the vegetables and then at the sign on the table. Damn, that’s kind of expensive. You shrugged your shoulders and put the greens on the weighing machine anyway, and pulled the money out of your purse for it. You smiled at the vendor and left with your new bag, wiggling your eyes at the strawberry table and starting your approach.

“Hi,” an achingly familiar voice called out while you were steps away from the table of deliciously red strawberries. You could smell them from where you were at. You turned around still, even after easily identifying who the voice belonged to. “How are you?”

She was as beautiful as ever, the top of her head under a blue ball cap and her eyebrows perfectly done. Her eyes were hidden by shades, but you didn’t need to see them to know what she was thinking. Her arms were loose at her sides, but her fingers were moving strangely, and you noticed them immediately as her nervous tick. You took in a deep breath.

“I’m good, how about you?” You asked Natasha back, and she gave you a pained smile.

“I’m alright.”

“Oh, sweet,” you said, and then gave her a parting smile before turning towards the strawberries.

“Wait,” she called out.

You stopped and turned your head, even though you wanted more than anything to forget that you ran into her. “Yes?”

There was a moment of silence between you two, and then she took a step forward. “Are you still upset?” She asked, voice lower in volume than usual.

You almost scoffed at her. “I’m an adult, I can’t really be sad for long or I’ll forget to pay a bill or something.”

“Can we talk?” She started, and you held up a hand.

“Let’s not open up old wounds,” you said, already knowing exactly where she was going with all of her hesitance and fiddling with her thumbs.

“I need to apologize for what happened.”

You shrugged. “I forgive you. Actually, I forgave you weeks and weeks ago. It’s okay. We can move on from it.” We need to move on from it.

You saw your old lover’s face light up in just the slightest, but just as fast as you saw it, it was gone. Her lack of wanting to express to you didn’t hurt anymore. “We?”

“We can move on,” you repeated, “just not together.” Her face dropped at what you said, and you shrugged your shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I fucked up.”

Yes, you did. “It’s in the past now.”

There was a pause, and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. You wondered when your heart started to beat on its own again and not for the woman standing so close yet so far away. You wondered when you started to do anything for just yourself, and you wondered when you had stopped doing that in the first place. Her voice brought you out of your thoughts. “Is it?”

You almost had to ask her to remind you what the conversation was about. “Oh. It is,” you said gently, but your voice was still stern. “All good things must come to an end, and what we had was good. It was great, and that must have meant that we were destined to end fast.”

She shook her head slightly. “If you- if you forgive me, it doesn’t have to be over.”

“It does.” You looked at your phone and sighed. “I have to leave.”

“Okay,” She said softly after a moment, and finally took a step back. It was a small one, like her body was trying to override her brain. “Okay.”

“I’ll see you, Nat.” You saw her wince, and if you hadn’t made peace with everything, you would have, too.

She took another step back and cleared her throat, just as Sam started making his way over. She nodded at you, and you gave her a small smile, almost encouraging. Just walk away, this is the last time you’ll have to do it. “Later,” She said, her voice a little hoarse as she turned on her heel and walked right past Sam.

“Later” meant never. And you didn’t know if you were supposed to feel nothing or everything about it.

§§§

The last time you saw Natasha Romanoff was a year later, when you were holding hands with a pretty woman from an art show that you went to. She stole your heart with her work, and she turned out just as beautiful on the inside as she was with a brush, and on the outside. Her name was Julie, and she was great. She was honest.

You really liked Julie. She wasn’t Natasha, though, and it was both refreshing and saddening, because you knew that what you felt with Natasha was a one time thing. You two had one chance to keep the bond that was seemingly inseparable and stronger than steel together, and everyone was rooting for you. And then, it just fell apart.

You knew that Natasha was your first actual love, and the only person who was ever going to be able to love you emotionally like you needed to be. The two of you were, in your mind, made for each other. If soulmates existed, Natasha would have been yours, and you would have been hers. You knew that even five years after not being with her, and while the hole in your heart wasn’t hollow, you had a feeling that a little something was always going to be cold, like a cavity that was never filled. Someone saying her name or asking about her was like chewing ice on it.

But people moved on. Just like you did. And you had moved on from the beautiful yet icy mountains of Natasha and into a soft and whimsical meadow, and that meadow was Julie.

You were holding hands with Julie, arms swinging as you were leaving the donut shop and talking about silly things that made the both of you grin when you caught a familiar flash of red. Out of instinct, you looked over your shoulder, and what you saw made you freeze.

Natasha Romanoff was with a girl with brown skin and black hair that was glinting in the sunlight, and she wasn’t focused on the way that you and Natasha locked eyes in that moment, the moment that seemed to last years. You didn’t think you were still moving, and it certainly didn’t feel like you were taking a step, but you were. You saw her blue-green eyes blink at you, and like you were still stuck on the same wavelength after all that time, you both raised a hand and gave a timid wave, small smiles gracing the both of your faces.

You saw the girl tug lightly on Natasha’s arm, and your grin stretched. Natasha looked over at the girl, and an immediate smile, one similar but not quite the same as she used to give to you, was on her face. You turned your head forward, a light smile still on your own face as you watched it all happen in a split second.

You both kept walking.

*****

ahahaha wow, that hurt really bad actually - never doing angst again i’m a fluffy type of gal

so i’ve never done a taglist before! so i hope i’m doing it right otherwise this’ll make me look incredibly dumb-

@messuhp @username23345 @fishlikestuff @thelastavenger-3000 @grievingfortheliving @madamevirgo @dontmindmejustreading @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @sourpatchspinster @fayhar @sarcasticallywitty15 @normanijauregui

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #marvel fanfic #natasha romanoff angst #gay!natasha #this saddened me #my fics

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overly-b · 4 years ago

Text

Say It Again - JJ Maybank

In which JJ questions if he is deserving of you and your love.

Warnings: swearing, sad JJ, fluff, awful editing don’t come for me

Word Count: 3.5k(whoops)

Author's note: this is my first time writing in so long, be gentle with me friends. I know that a lot of people have done similar prompts of JJ feeling undeserving of love and the reader helps him through it, so this is a little bit unoriginal but, this is my take on it.

Bold italics is a flash back.

Thank you to @maybe-maybanks to the late night inspiration!

not my gif

As you, Kie and Pope approached the yard of the chateau, it became undeniably clear that JJ had gone off the rails with extravagant spending since you had seen him last.

“What did you do JJ?” Pope questions the boy sitting in the hot tub. Looking at you through his sunglasses, he smirks.

“I got a jet going straight in my butt right now” He ignores Pope. “Y’all, should get in here immediately, you hear me?” His sentence slurs slightly. “Salud!” He toasts his plastic champagne flute in the air, but opts to take a swig from the bottle in his other hand.

JJ scans the faces of his three friends, eyes lingering at yours a moment longer than Kie and Popes.

You see, just days ago, after getting arrested, then beaten by his father, JJ found you, and poured his heart out, to find that you shared his feelings, and the two of you started seeing each other in secret.

Being that it was a secret, the two of you had yet to put any kind of label on it, but you loved that blonde boy to the ends of the earth, despite what had happened earlier that day.

“You know what, that's exactly what I’m gonna do. Go off, by myself.”

You watched as JJ began walking away. Pope attempted to stop him, but Sarah and John B had halted his efforts. You stood silently fuming at the actions of the boy you had such strong feelings for. How could he be doing something like this? This wasn’t the JJ you knew, had been friends with for years, and were now in love with. Though if you were being honest with yourself, you had loved him for years prior.

“JJ!” You seethed, shaking off John B’s attempts to hold you back from running after him. He was already a good distance away from the group, he probably couldn’t even hear you yelling, so you started speed walking. It soon became apparent that he was simply ignoring you.

“JJ!” You were merely twenty feet from him, screaming at his back. “JJ stop!” His strides continued.

“You were real quiet back there princess, finally decide to comment?” You stepped in front of him, shoving his shoulders to force his walk to a stop. “What the fuck Y/N!”

“What the fuck me? What the fuck you! What has gotten into you right now JJ what are you doing?”

“Nothing has gotten into me Y/N I’m simply paying back what I owe.” He states, trying to walk past you.

“By stealing the money from the drug dealer that just jumped us?” Your brows raise as you interrogate him.

“He jumped us, he has this coming.” He nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders, succeeding in getting past you, as you stand shocked by his words.

“JJ you and I both know that you’re not that goddamned stupid.” His steps slow, he stands still. “Stealing money from a drug dealer? JJ I know that you owe money because of Pope but this isn’t right! You’re better than this-”

“Am I?” He turns on his heels to face you again, this time squaring his shoulders to be purposeful in standing tall over you. Him standing over you made you feel small in comparison to the raging blond. “Am I better than this?” He repeats his question.

“JJ what are you-”

“Because I’m starting to think that you, and your high standards, and your perfect life, only think that I am better than this because you want me to be better than this.”

You knew what he was referring to. You were by no means a kook, but your family was financially stable enough to afford a nice house, you had your own car, and if you wanted, you could afford to go to college on the mainland. Your life was unlike most lives on the cut, but JJ knew that your life was far from perfect.

“What the hell-”

“And that if we’re gonna be together, you need me to be better than this so that I can fit in with your life.” You had no idea what he meant. Your life was on the cut, with the Pouges, with him, and the difference of financial well beings of your familys never changed that before, so why was it now?

“What the fuck JJ stop-”

“Well you know what Y/N! I’m not better than this, this is who I am! I get into fights, I steal, I have a criminal record, when I get hit, I hit back this is who I am!”

“We both know that stealing twenty five thousand dollars from a drug dealer is never going to make anything better.” You attempt to reason with him. “This isn’t hitting back this is loading the gun that's already in your face!”

“Y/N I have to!” He spits. “I know you could never understand being in so much debt but this is my only option.” His words hit you like a punch to the stomach. He looks down to his boots before continuing. “So I’m sorry that I’m not what you pictured as a boyfriend, but this is what I do Y/N. Maybe you trying to fight it means you deserve better than me.”

And just like that, it was clear that he was more mad with himself then he was with you. However, everything that he said was uncalled for, and nasty, and he had no right. You watch as he storms away, even more tense than before, and you couldn’t help but wonder how this affects your newfound relationship. You blink away the water from your eyes, and do your best to compose yourself as you slowly wander back to your friends.

“How much did this cost?” Pope asks. Your head was spinning as he listed all of the things that he had purchased since he left you standing in the woods.

“Uh, well. With the generator, the petrol, and, oh, hey, express delivery,” You knew the answer before he even had time to speak. “Pretty much all of it, yeah.”

“All of it?” Pope exclaims.

“Oh my god” You whisper, mostly to yourself, rubbing your forehead with your palm.

“Yeah all of it.”

“You spent all the money in one day?” “Yeah burned a hole right through my pocket.” He confidently explains. “But, I mean like come on guys, look at this!” The tone in his voice told you that he was holding back, it was alway his biggest tell when he would hold back his feelings. “Finest in jet based massage therapy, that's what they told me.”

The three of you are left speechless.

“Kie what? Can’t a man have a little luxury in life?” JJ still could not bring himself to look you in the eyes for more than a moment. “Come on, all this scrimping’ and scraping’” you notice his voice falter again. “I mean like, guys, we, you only live once. Right?” JJ finally locks eyes with you, and he reacts spastically, your dreaded look having the gravest effect on him.

“Y/N, stop, why are you looking at me like that?” He knew full well, but he was trying too hard not to show it. “I know that you’re mad about earlier okay, but, everything is fine now!” His voice was louder now, concealing the breakdown you knew was coming, sooner or later, here with the three of you or somewhere else. “Enough of this emotional shit. Get in the Cat’s Ass come on.” He smiles, waving you to join him.

“The what?” Kie furrows her brows.

“The Cat’s Ass.” JJ smugly replies, proud of himself. “That's what I named her. Oh hey yo, I almost forgot,” JJ leans forward, pressing a button that makes water spray across the tub, and even more colorful lights flash in front of him. “Huh! Yeah that's right, disco mode, thats right baby!” His eyes scan yours, noticing that they were clouding with tears. He quickly looks away from you, not wanting to see the damage that he had done, and was still doing.

“JJ,” Your voice is low and hushed as you blink back tears.

“Are you kidding me?” Popes harsh voice overpowers yours, cutting off you and your tears. “You could have paid for restitution!”

“Or literally given it to any charity” Kie fumes at the sight before her.

“Guys,” You mutter, wanting them to stop being so hard on the broken boy you secretly called yours. You were mad too, if not more than Pope and Kie due to your argument. However, you could see straight through the smug grins and happy fasad that JJ was trying to project. He was hurting, and you knew it wasn’t just about the fight the two of you shared.

“Or better yet, you could have helped us buy supplies to get the rest of the gold out of the well!”

“Guys!” You spoke up louder this time, only to be cut off by JJ.

“Okay well you know I didn’t do that!” As JJ’s swimsuit clad body surfaces from the hot water, you are confronted with what you knew would be there, and the tears pour from your eyes. “I got a hot tub!” JJ shakes in what appears to be anger, but you know it isn't anger he's reeling from. “For my friends,”

Kie and Pope gape at JJ’s bruised abdomen and instantly connect the dots as to who is responsible.

“I bought a hot tub for my friends.” He repeats. “You know what, no, you know what, screw friends. I got a hot tub for my family.”

“JJ what the hell-” Kie gasps.

“I got this for you! Guys look what I did for you! Alright?” JJ spins and gestures to everything he bought. “Look at this!” When he turns back, he finds that you were no longer holding back the tears your eyes once held.

“Y/N stop being emotional don’t, don’t cry okay? I know that I hurt you before,” His voice fails him as he recalls the words that he said to you. “But I did this for you,” He hangs his head, he knows how bad he fucked up, and it was hitting him all at once that this was not the way that he needed to make things right. This was not the way back to you, and the high of his twenty five thousand dollar spending spree was dissapating at his realisation, and at the sight of you before him.

“I mean, it’s sweet right?” JJ hadn't even realized that as he began talking, you had climbed into the hot tub. He looks into your eyes for a moment as you stand before him, and lets out a sob as you gently wrap your arms around him. His forehead falls to your shoulder, and all of his pent up energy released in the form of tears and heaves.

“I’m sorry. Baby I’m so sorry.” He whimpers to you, only for you to shush him tenderly. Kie and Pope share a confused glance at the nickname. “I couldn’t do it.” You rub his hair and hold him close as he convulses. “I can’t take it anymore!” JJ wails, your tears land on his shoulders, and his tears land on yours. “I was gonna kill him!”

Kie is next to join you, jumping into the steaming water and embracing the both of you. Pope follows.

“I just want to do the right thing.”

“Shh, JJ, I know. I know” You coo him, trying to calm his weeping.

After minutes of holding him, Kie announces that she has to head home, and Pope offers to drive her. JJ rests in a nearly catatonic state in your arms, no doubt exhausted and knowing JJ, not ready to face the fact that he just broke down in front of his friends.

The pair leaves bidding reassuring words to JJ, and a few more hugs.

You are left in the hot tub, holding the blond boy as he clutches onto you. He wasn’t crying anymore, but his breaths were rapid and heavy as he was shaken, the events of the day had caught up to him in the form of you and your tears. He begins to spew soft “I’m sorry”s and other apologises, but his panic makes him stutter and his sentences start to lack direction.

You shush him and direct the boy to listen to your heartbeat, trying your best to bring his shattered thoughts back to earth.

“JJ, we should get out of the hottub.” You tell him, to which he simply sniffles and nods, unsure of how to speak to you after the horrible things he said to you, and his inability to form a proper apology. He knew that you were nothing like he had depicted, yet he said what he said, and there was no taking it back.

His skin was red from the overheated water, and it itched with chlorine, so as the two of you entered the chateau, you started the shower.

“You should rinse off the chlorine.” You told him, not sure of how to speak to him either. He followed your order and stripped of his bathing suit. You were able to track down clothes for him to sleep in, and as you waltzed back into the bathroom, you decided you couldn’t leave him alone in the shower.

Taking off your soaked clothes quickly, you slip into the shower to find JJ standing still under the water. You snake your arms around his torso, careful of the bruises pressing your chest to his back. His hands find yours he holds them tight. You place a kiss on his spine, then rest your head where your lips touched.

“I’m so sorry” He croaked, his voice was tired, worn out from the day.

“JJ-”

“No stop Y/N” He turns around to face you, grabbing your face in his hands. “I’m sorry. I should have never said any of those things about you, none of them were true, it's just that, its,” He stumbles on his words. You rub his back to ground him again, he takes a deep breath. “It's just that you do deserve better than me.”

“JJ please-” He doesn’t let you continue.

“No you do, Y/N you do. You deserve so much better than me, than this life, than what I can give you. You don’t deserve some, broken kid that's never getting off the cut, you don’t deserve, to, have to watch as I steal money from drug dealers, you don’t deserve any of the shit that I know that I put you through you just, you deserve better, better than someone who doesn’t come close to deserving you.”

The tears streaming down both of your faces mix with the water coming from the shower and you have no idea how to make his saddening speech stop.

“JJ” You sob, he pauses. “You deserve so much more, than what your life has given you. You deserve to be happy, you deserve to be loved JJ, you deserve everything that you want, why can’t you see that?”

And instantly you feel stupid for asking. JJ’s eyes wander and find the bruises littering his body, answering your question. You stifle another sob as your eyes graze his battered skin.

“Listen to me.” You demand his attention. “You are not worthless.” His eyes divert from yours as he realises what you’re referring to. “JJ look at me,” After a moment or two, his gaze wearily finds yours. “You are not worthless, you are worthy of love, and affection, and someone who takes care of you, and not only are you worthy but you deserve it too. Do you hear me?”

JJ swallows thickly, nodding in acceptance of your beautiful words. He embraces you tightly, having no words of his own. No one had ever made him feel like this. No one had ever made him feel worthy of the good that was before him.

He was hesitant to think that he deserved you. To him, no one was good enough to actually deserve you, especially not him. However your speech made him open to the idea that maybe he was at least worthy of your love.

Your love.

You both realised in the same moment that the word was shared between you. You had never shared the faithful declaration of love to each other since you had been together romantically, and yet now you had mentioned love twice in the span of thirty seconds. JJ smiled as he held you. You loved him, and this was one of the ways that you showed it.

“Let's get the chlorine out of your hair J.”

He let you massage his scalp with the shampoo that he's seen you use before to get pool chemicals out of your hair. He didn’t really know what it did or how it was different from other shampoos but, it smelled like you and he loved getting his head rubbed. His breathing was still shaky, but he finally felt some of his anxiety from the day wearing off. Fighting with you was something he never wanted to do again. Fighting with his dad was something he knew he would have to do the next time he went home. He elected to ignore those thoughts, as your fingers worked magic on his hair, seemingly drawing all of the negative ideas out of his head along with the chlorine.

As JJ rinsed his hair of soap, he noticed you reaching for the bottle again, no doubt to wash your own hair. He holds out his hand, wordlessly asking if he could wash your hair for you, like you had done for him. This makes you grin as you hand him the bottle. JJ then realises that he doesn’t really know how to do what you did for him. That kind of small, soft, intimate touching was foreign to him.

He squeezes way too much shampoo into his hand, but you pay that no mind. He starts slow, trying to remember the way your fingers moved on his scalp, but in the end knowing that he just wasn’t good at giving head massages.

“I used way too much.” He states, watching as suds continue to produce from your locks.

“It’s okay.” You hum watching the bubbles disappear down the drain. “I set out clothes for you when you’re ready, I’m probably gonna be another minute” You tell him, referring to the other bottles you had in the shower that you still had to use.

“Okay, thank you” He kisses you as he exits the shower. You finish up quickly, wanting to be next to him, and hoping that his thoughts as he sits alone don’t carry him away like they had before.

You find that he left his tee shirt for you, like he had on nights before. You wear the shirt that smelled of him along with a pair of comfortable running shorts and head to the spare bedroom of the chateau that JJ called his most nights.

You spot JJ sitting at the edge of the bed, waiting for you. You slowly and carefully climb onto his lap, straddling him and holding his head close to your chest. You notice anxiety still radiating off of him.

“Hey,” You start softly. “It’s okay, everythings okay-”

“I love you” He states bluntly as he picks up his head from your chest.

“What?” You stumble, surprised at his outburst.

“I love you, and I want to be with you, like, publically, or whatever. I wanna tell the Pouges and-” before he starts rambling, you stop him.

“I love you too JJ.” This pauses him.

“Say it again.”

You giggle, but inhale, knowing that he needs to hear it.

“JJ.” You start. “I love you.”

He lets out a breath you didn’t realize he was holding, eyes watering for the millionth time.

“I still don’t think that I deserve this.” He admits, looking into your eyes with his crystal clear blue ones.

“You do.” You push his hair back from his face. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you that you do.”

He was hesitant to accept everything that you had said to him that day, but he never doubted that you would give him your all. This was all he needed to know before he allowed himself fully over to you, kissing you with more desperation and love than ever before.

“I love you so much.” You muttered into his lips, and from that day on, you would say it again and again, as many times as he needed to hear it. A constant reminder to him that he was deserving and worthy of good, of love, and of you.

Taglist: @maybe-maybanks @myrandom-fandomlife

#outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #jj #maybank #jj maybank #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj imagine #jj fanfiction #obx #obx imagine #obx netflix #obx jj #jj maybank x reader #rudy pankow #rudy pankow imagine #rudy pankow fanfiction #rudy pankow fic

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witlessficcer · 3 years ago

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Intruder Alert

A/N: This fic is based on an ask by@multi-muse-transect. The ask was for a Peggy/Nat AU in which Natasha is taken in by Wong after he defeats Drykov. While she is studying as his apprentice, Nat sees Peggy working out. I have not seen The Black Widow. I hope this somewhat meets the request. Enjoy.

Natasha Romanoff still burned with the imprint of her former training. Her Master, Drykov was a viscous taskmaster and one whom distributed brutal punishment on those who did not meet his impossible standards. Nat did not fail, but she saw plenty who did, plenty who disappeared and were never seen or spoken of again. When Wong came to Red Room, many of the girls scattered, taking the opportunity to escape, if they had the nerve. Natasha watched. She watched as the General threw everything he had at Wong. But, the peaceful looking Asian was not an ordinary man. By some power that Natasha did not understand, Wong defeated Drykov.

When the battle was over, such as it was, the man looked at her intently. She returned his scrutiny with curiosity of her own. He approached her with open hands and smile with which the young assassin could find no fault. She was looking. Hard.

“Do you want to leave this place?” he asked, like he was order lunch. “I do not think there is anything left here for you.”

“I'm supposed to follow a strange man though a glowing golden portal and hope it all turns out well for me?” Natasha answered, coldly.

“Better than a Russian Gulag or being hunted like a dog for the sake of deniability,” the Asian answered, softly, but directly.

“If we get along,” the redhead offered. “And, I'm not saying we will. I want you to teach me what you were doing. The golden patterns were...beautiful. The power in them is obviously strong.”

“It is possible that this could be done. If we get along. As you know, students get the grunt work. Are you prepared to keep working? I promise that learning form me will be nothing like this place.”

“Let's go,” Natasha said, ready to leave with the clothes on her back. “There is nothing here for me.

She watched as the portly man seemed to spin a web of light, which opened into a larger circle and showed an empty alley on the other side. Without a glance toward her, he walked through.

She stood still; considering he empty alley, the oddly content man, and potential to learning a power beyond her understanding.

“Are you coming?” he asked from the other side of the portal. His hands clasped behind his back. “The window will close momentarily.”

“Who are you?” Natasha asked, her heart rate rising.

“My name is Wong.”

“Who are you, really?” she pressed. “You will find out soon enough. JUMP! NOW!

Natasha jumped as the portal closed around her.

*****

The house in New York was old, but comfortable. Stylish, in a museum kind of way. Nat found its timeless, multicultural decorations relaxing. It was inviting in a way the Red Room complex was spartan and lifeless. Nat was also pleased that she and Wong had worked out a teacher-student relationship that was both challenging and rewarding. His positive reinforcement was a refreshing change from Drykov, but also an initial hurdle as Nat knew she was exhibiting the behavior of an abused child. It took some time for each of them to learn to trust each other. It was coming, slowly, but surely.

After three months of introductory lessons, Wong decided to give her something a little more complex. He handed her a small leather bound book with ornate decoration on the front and back cover. It could not have been more than 20 pages long. Opening the volume, she found child like illustrations and words in a language she could not read. “Study this for this afternoon. Talk to me about what you have discovered at dinner.

Nat was not one to retreat from a challenge. Sitting at table on in the library, she started to 'read'. The words meant nothing, but the pictures...

Two hours later, Nat was knocked from her reverie by the faint sound of grunting an exertion. It wasn't Wong, or anyone else she had met at the House. She could hear the unmistakable sound of fists pounding leather. Kicking too. Rising from her chair she was was surprised to see golden sparks dissipate about her. What the hell? Even the sparks couldn't keep her from following the sounds of someone beating the shit of a hanging bag. Following the exhilarating sounds lead her to a wide, carpeted stairwell leading down. Of course its coming from the gym, dummy.

Making her way down the stairs and through a longer than normal corridor, Nat pulled up short before entering Wong's work out room. Peering into the room, but remaining out of sight, Nat was amazed at what she saw. The person beating on the bag was a woman. A giant woman. She must have been...over six feet tall. Her shoulders, glistening with sweat, were broad and muscled. Her entire body was broad and muscled. In her boxing stance, Nat could see the definition in her calves, thighs, and abs. The skin tight exercise pants left little to the imagination. The woman had a magnificently tight set of glutes. It was a nice ass. Who was she fooling? Despite herself, Nat found her eyes glued to the mystery woman. For the time being she felt that observing would be the best course of action. She wished the woman would turn around so she could get a look at the rest of her, but the Amazon was positioned to only show her back.

“How long are you going to stand there and watch?” the brown haired woman asked.

For the second time in a few short minutes, Nat had been caught off guard. Lost in thought. It was unforgivable. Drykov would have beaten her and thrown her naked into a cell the size of broom closet. That was then, though. This was now. Now, was a beautiful, muscle bound woman calling her out for staring. Natasha turned on the ice.

“I was waiting to get a good look at our intruder,” she said, flatly.

“Well,” the other woman said, turning to face Natasha. “Am I good looking?"

The former Red Room assassin, trained in all manner of self control and deadly precision, blinked. Dark brown eyes, strong jaw, aquiline nose, full, luscious lips, and large breasts, that seemed to strain against her loose grey tank top.

“Passable,” Nat said, without emotion. You thought luscious lips and big boobs, you big liar!Natasha felt like she needed to leave. She wasn't thinking clearly. This woman was affecting her in a way that she couldn't control. At first sight, her training was gone and she was succumbing to baser instincts. She's a hot athlete who started flirting with you immediately.

“Better than I get from the guys on the construction crew,” the larger woman said. “I think they're scared and don't know what to do with someone who could take them in a fight.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Natasha said. “Can't be easy taking shit from guys like that.”

“They are harmless. Literally. None of the them could hurt me.”

“Nasty names can't be easy every day,” Natasha said, moving not so stealthily toward the chair where the woman's bag lay open and white towel hung over the edge. “Plus, I'm not sure sure such names are entirely accurate.”

“Changing your tune that soon?” the other woman challenged. “I didn't come here to to be hit on by little girls. I came to work out.”

“I am not a little girl and I am hardly hitting on you,” piqued by the boxer's audacity.

“That drool at the edge of your mouth says otherwise?” the intruder continued, brazenly.

“I don't drool,” Nat responded, harshly, her self control eroding further. “Who are you? I need a name to give the police.”

“I'm Peggy, and there's no need to call the police. They would come, find you unconscious, and I would be in the wind.”

This woman, Peggy, was instigating her. Why? Perhaps she thinks your cute too. Did she already know who Natasha was? Was she an associate of Wong's? Or, did she simply like pushing buttons?

“If that was a threat, it was lost on me,” Nat said, with confident cool. “I can take care of myself. I'm sure you've heard the phrase: the bigger they are, the harder they fall?”

The larger woman's brown eyes gleamed with mirth. Placing on gloved hand on her hip, she brought the other to her mouth in failed attempt to stifle a laugh.

“Did you really just say that?” Peggy said, rounding out her chuckle. “Trained assassins should be able to make better threats than that. Seriously.”

Another figurative right hook to Natasha's ego sent her reeling. “Do you need a towel? You're sweating?” That's right. Offer to wipe down her sweaty muscles while you try to recover from her owning you from the moment you saw her.

“Sure, Natasha,” Peggy said, taking the offered towel and beginning to wipe herself off. “Since you mentioned it, if I fell, which is unlikely, I would make every effort to fall on top of you so there would be no clear victor.”

Nat was sure she was hypnotized. She was a Red Room assassin and a Sorcerer's apprentice. Who did this Amazonian street thug think she was? This is getting old. You are not hypnotized. You are hot for her at first sight and just won't admit it.

“Who's Victor?” Nat said, emerging form her inner argument. “And, how do you know who I am?”

“Are you okay?” Peggy said, coming toward her. The taller woman, pulled her boxing gloves off and tossed them to the floor. She turned her hand knuckles out and reached toward the assassin's forehead. Nat blocked the strong forearm aside before the hand could touch her.

Raising her hands in surrender, Peggy said. “I'm not going to hurt you. I was trying to check your temperature. You seem out of sorts.”

“How would you know what sort I am?” Nat said, too harshly.

“You're sweating,” Peggy said. “Your face is flush. You offered me a towel. I didn't see that coming.”

“You're sweating!” Nat exclaimed, causing a small burst of golden sparks to shoot from her temples.

“Whoa,” Peggy said, shocked, as the sorcerer's assassin collapsed toward her.

Peggy caught the younger read head and scooped her up into her large arms.

“What has Wong gone and done this time,” Peggy said, as she walked Natasha up the stairs in search of her teacher.

#peggy/nat #peggy x natasha #Peggy Carter #Captain Carter #Natasha Romanoff #wong #marvel fanfiction #marvel mcu #fanfic #What If...?#what if...? fan fiction

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drabbles-mc · 4 years ago

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Protective Detail (6/?)

Nestor Oceteva x Reader

Warnings: language, tension so thick you could cut it with a goddamn knife

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: We finally get some payoff, my friends. This chapter is just a tiny taste of what’s in store for 7. That’s when we really get our thirst quenched. So...you know...stay tuned...

Chapter Index

Protective Detail Taglist: @masterlistforimagines @sillygoose6969 @mydaiilyescape @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo @the-radical-venus @gemini0410 @garbinge @slutformayansmc @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @mayans-sauce (If you want to be tagged in this fic or any of my other writing don’t hesitate to let me know!)

You had your bluetooth headphones on, lip-syncing along with the songs on your playlist as you cleaned around the house. You hated vacuuming, and you always tried to get it done quickly. The time seemed to pass faster when you were dancing to a good beat while you drowned out the noise.

One of the benefits of not having a large house, was that cleaning it wasn’t as daunting of a task as it could’ve been. Plus, on days like today when you called in and didn’t have anywhere to be, there was no excuse not to get it done. Your brain was still reeling from your interaction with Nestor earlier, and cleaning with loud music blaring in your ears seemed like a welcome distraction.

You were dancing your way over to the kitchen to get started on cleaning all of your counters when you felt someone’s eyes on you. You spun around and gasped when you saw Nestor standing there, looking back and forth between you and your phone that was in his hand.

You felt your face get hot as you pushed the headphones down so they were resting around your neck, “Jesus, Nestor. You’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

“Gotta stay alert,” he said matter-of-factly. He held your phone up, “Kendrick is on your cleaning mix?”

You laughed, “What? He’s not on yours?”

“Just didn’t have you pegged as a hip-hop fan, that’s all.”

“You have a lot to learn about me, Mr. Oceteva.”

His brows furrowed, “Don’t call me that ever again,” his face remained serious for a moment before a smirk broke out across it.

You chuckled, “From now on it’s the only thing I will ever call you.”

He didn’t dignify your comment with a response, “Anything I can do?”

You shrugged, “I’m just gonna wipe down the counters and stove. Just trying to keep myself busy.”

You put your headphones back on and got started cleaning up the kitchen. The longer you stood there staring at Nestor, the more you felt like you were going to lose your mind. What you really wanted to do was go for a drive to clear your head, but that was off the table even if Nestor was going to be in the car with you. Carefree cruising was going to be put on hold for the foreseeable future.

Once you were done in the kitchen, you moved on to the bathroom. It was the smallest room in the house but for some reason it was your least favorite to clean. You blamed it on the fact that you hated the smell of bleach, but it was just a lot of scrubbing and crouching if you were going to clean it the right way.

You stood up and were turning around to go grab a fresh roll of paper towels from the kitchen when you ran smack into Nestor. You huffed, looking up at him trying your best to have an annoyed expression on your face, although you knew that he would probably be able to see right through it.

“Quit sneaking up on me!”

He smirked, “I’m not,” he reached forward and gently thumbed a bead of sweat off your forehead before walking away and heading back to his room.

You felt like your entire body was on fire as you stood there stuck in place in the bathroom. He wasn’t much for any kind of contact at all, and that seemed like such an unnecessary gesture. You shook your head and went to grab a clean set of clothes from your room as you tried not to read too much into it. The only thing you could do right now was take a shower to try and wash away all the thoughts that were flying through your head.

You didn’t see much of Nestor for the rest of the afternoon. The door to his room was open, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go and see him. The house was silent and you finally forced yourself to put something on the TV just to keep you from going insane inside your own head.

It was starting to approach dinner time and you figured that you were going to have to talk to him eventually. Taking a deep breath you lightly knocked on the door.

“Yea?”

You stepped in to see him sitting with his back up against the headboard, computer in his lap. You leaned back against the doorframe nervously, “Dinner?”

“I’d like to eat eventually, yea,” he slowly shut his laptop, a tiny grin creeping across his face.

“I’d literally kill someone for a slice of pizza at this point,” you said with a laugh.

He chuckled, “Sure, you’d kill someone, but would you leave the house?”

You huffed, “You’ve worn me down. I am willing to leave the house to get pizza.”

He raised his eyebrows, “Wow. You feeling alright?”

You smiled, shaking your head, “You gotta admit it’s been a long few days.”

“If you wanna call and place the order, we can go pick it up.”

“Can I leave it under your name?”

He sighed, pressing his lips together for a moment, “You’re going to place an order for Mr. Oceteva, aren’t you?”

“Guess you’ll find out when we go to pick it up,” you laughed as you walked out of the room.

You never thought that you’d see the day when Nestor left the house in anything but his dress clothes. But, sure enough, he was grabbing the keys to the SUV still in his sweatpants. He had a gun tucked into the waistband, and you smiled to yourself as he pulled on a baggy hoodie to cover it up. He looked over to you, waiting for you to catch up with him.

The two of you went back and forth earlier about who was going to drive, but Nestor insisted. You were trying to be considerate because the last drive wasn’t the smoothest, but you could see it in his eyes that he wasn’t going to back down. It wasn’t worth an argument, so you let him have the keys.

Nestor walked into the restaurant first, instantly scanning the whole building. The young man behind the register looked at the two of you with a smile, “Can I help you?”

“Order for pickup?” Nestor said as he reached into his pocket for his wallet.

The boy looked over the names for orders that he had, “Are you…Mr. Oceteva?”

You could tell that he was clenching his jaw and you bit back a laugh. Nestor sighed, “Yes, that’s me.”

He was opening his wallet to grab some cash when you reached forward and snatched it out of his hands, stuffing it into your pocket before he could pay. You could see it on his face that he wanted to grab it back, but wasn’t about to start something in the middle of the pizza place. You chuckled as you handed a few bills over the counter to the young man, who looked very interested in how the situation was going to play out.

“Keep the change,” you said with a smile, “Have a good night.”

The kid nodded with a smile, “You too.”

You looked to Nestor, “Can you grab those?” you nodded towards the pizza and wing boxes.

The two of you walked back to the car, and he didn’t say anything until you both were inside of it with the doors locked. He looked over at you with a heavy sigh and held out his hand, “Wallet.”

You smirked, pulling it out of your pocket, “Fine, fine,” before you handed it over you opened it, and your eyes nearly popped out of your head when you saw his license photo, “Oh my god,” your hand flew up to cover your mouth, “Is that…teenage Nestor?”

He reached over and snatched it up out of your hands, “Give me the fucking wallet.”

“Your hair was so short!” you laughed, “Look at you and your baby face.”

He leaned his head back, looking up at the ceiling like he was praying to god for patience, “Please stop talking.”

“You were so cute what the fuck,” you laughed, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I’ll leave you here,” he looked over at you, “And I’ll take the pizza with me.”

You pressed your lips together and tried to keep yourself from smiling, but you failed, “Let’s get home before the pizza gets cold.”

He shook his head as he threw the car into drive. For as annoyed as he was making himself seem, you could see it in his eyes that he was amused by the whole ordeal. He’d never admit it, but you knew it was true.

The two of you were camped out on the couch. You had ordered a large pizza, so you decided it was easier to just set the box on the cushion between you and each of you sat cross-legged facing it. It was the first time that Nestor ever drank at home, and it made you feel like you were at a slumber party of some kind.

You took a swig from your beer bottle, “Can I be real with you for a minute?”

He nodded, “Sure.”

“I know that this,” you gestured to yourself and your house, “is not what you usually do. I know it’s probably way below your paygrade, and I know that I give you a lot of shit for very little reward,” you chuckled, “But I’m really glad that you’re here.”

He froze mid-bite, “Yea?”

You smiled, “Yea. I know I gave you and my father both a hard time about all this. But if I’m being honest? I was pretty shaken up after everything happened. It felt like if I gave into this without a fight, I was admitting defeat. But I do feel a lot safer with you here. So…thanks.”

It was clear on his face that he was trying to process everything that you had just said to him. He set his slice of pizza back down into the box, “Can I ask what happened? Your father never gave me any details.”

You sigh, leaning back against the arm of the couch, “It was so stupid,” you shook your head, “I was out with a couple friends, bar-hopping. I stepped outside to get some fresh air, and this girl runs up to me in tears, saying that her friend was sick and she didn’t know what to do. Like, alcohol poisoning sick. And she was freaking out saying that her friend wasn’t breathing and she already called 911 but she didn’t know what else to do. So, I went to help, because I’m not gonna let someone choke on their own vomit and die or something. But when I got to the end of the block—”

“No friend.”

You shook your head, “Nope. Just two dudes trying to grab me and take me away. I really don’t remember exactly what happened, how I didn’t end up dead or at least hog-tied in the back of some sketchy-ass van. But when I tell you that I have never run away from something so fast," you took a long drink from your beer, “But anyway, yea. That’s the gist of it. Obviously, I had to tell my dad about it. He freaked out. He had no idea that he had been stirring up so much shit with business lately. And I’m assuming you got your new employment notice shortly after that happened,” you half-smiled.

He shook his head, “Sorry, Y/N.”

You shrugged, “I know better than to go anywhere alone, even with a distressed girl coming to me in tears. Just had a lapse in judgment and I paid the price for it. Just sorry you’re paying for it too,” you managed a laugh.

“I’m paying for my own lapses in judgment, don’t worry.”

You paused—that was the closest you’d ever gotten to hearing him talk about what happened on his end of things to land him in your house with you. “Sorry purgatory for you is this little two-bedroom house with me,” you smiled at him.

He chuckled, shaking his head, “Who knows, I might’ve ended up here anyway. But I definitely made the call a lot easier for them.”

“What was your crime?” you tried to keep it light but you couldn’t hide your curiosity.

His expression sobered as he contemplated whether or not he wanted to let you in on that part of his life, “Nothing as good-natured as trying to help someone with their drunk friend.”

“Not that I don’t totally dig the whole spiffy, braided, mysterious vibe you always have going,” you gestured to his whole body for a moment before continuing, “But you ever gonna not be vague with me about your deal with Galindo? I know I don’t particularly like him, but still. I like you. It’d be nice to know a little about you. I mean, c’mon, I doubt anything you say to me is going to be surprising. You know who my father is.”

He chuckled, unable to make eye contact with you for a few moments. He took a deep breath, “You remember the last Santa Madre festival?”

“Fuck, who doesn’t? Shit went sideways so fast,” you shook your head slightly, “Rebels killed that nun, right?”

His eyes were glued to the box between you, “Not really.”

There were a few moments of silence before it all clicked inside your head. Your eyes grew wide, “You…?” when he nodded all you could do was ask, “But why?”

He sighed and shook his head, “Rebels had been making the cartel catch a lot of shit. Galindo was convinced that the only way to put himself back on the right side of things was to flip the script—turn the Rebels into the problem. Put their name on the dirty work instead of the cartel’s,” he leaned back against the arm of the couch, “He was not thrilled with the call that I made on the specifics of the method.”

It was hard to picture the Nestor that you had come to know, the one who burned through entire pints of ice cream, and roughed up men who disrespected you, was capable of that kind of carnage. You knew better than to put anything past anyone, though. You could see the tension in his body as he waited for your reaction.

You let out a small sigh, “Listen, no one in the Galindo family has any room to talk about cruel and unusual punishment,” you waited for him to look at you, “And for better or worse, you did exactly what he needed. LO took a major hit in the court of public opinion after that. Don’t place a vague order if you’re gonna complain about all the details of it once the plate is in front of you.”

He let out a surprised chuckle, “Damn. If I had you around earlier maybe I wouldn’t have gotten demoted in the first place.”

“I’ll talk to him for you,” you laughed, “Just say the word.”

His laugh was genuine, “Absolutely not. I’ll be completely fired if you do that.”

“But,” you smiled as you toyed with the beer bottle in your hands, “if that happened you would get to stay with me all the time. Does that not sound amazing to you?” he remained silent for a few moments before his face broke out into a smile and you shook your head, “Shut up you could have it so much worse.”

The two of you didn’t talk for a few minutes, the television filling the house with quiet noise. You finished what little was still in your beer bottle before starting to clear up what was left of dinner. As much as you hated leaving the house compared to delivery, you had to admit that the trip was worth it.

You saw Nestor open his mouth to say something as you reached down and collected his beer bottle, but he stopped himself. You lingered for a moment, hoping that he would change his mind and say whatever it was that he was thinking, but he just reached and pulled his phone out of his pocket.

Once you finished cleaning up, you decided that you were going to try and get to bed at a somewhat decent hour so you could try to get back to your usual schedule. You walked up behind Nestor, gently resting one hand on his shoulder.

“I’m heading to bed,” you squeezed his shoulder lightly, “Goodnight.”

He didn’t look up at you as he rested his hand over yours for a brief moment, “Goodnight. See you in the morning.”

You were lying awake in bed for what felt like an eternity. In reality it had only been a couple hours, but that was a long time to lie awake staring at the ceiling. You finally caved and took your phone out. If you were going to be awake anyway, you might as well look at something.

That’s when you heard the television shut off. Shortly thereafter the lights in the living room turned off as well. You realized that you had never been awake when Nestor went to bed. You heard soft footsteps in the hall and you didn’t know why but you were holding your breath when they got close to your door.

There was a light knock as he leaned in the doorway, looking at your face that was lit up by the screen of your phone, “Still up?”

You sat upright, eyes focusing on his silhouette in the darkness, “Can’t sleep.”

“Need anything?”

Your entire body felt like it was overheating. You gnawed at the inside of your cheek, “I, uh…I think I’m…I think I’m good.”

He chuckled, “You don’t sound too sure about that.”

You laughed, fingers twisting nervously in your blanket, “Not sure how much you could help me with what I need, Nestor.”

He crossed the threshold into your room, and you were very aware of the fact that he had never done so before. He came and found a seat on the edge of your bed, “It’s what I’m here for. Try me,” his hand found its way to yours and the warmth of it caused you to release your vice grip on the blanket as he slipped his fingers between yours.

Your heart was pounding inside your chest and your breath felt like it was caught in your throat. You set your phone off to the side with your hand that wasn’t entwined with Nestor’s, and you wondered if he could feel the way your body was trembling.

“I can go, if you’re alright,” he went to stand up.

“No,” you squeezed his hand, giving him a slight tug to keep him from getting up.

“What’s up?” you could hear the smugness in his tone—he knew exactly what was going through your head.

“I,” you paused, taking a deep breath, “I’m not looking to make this more difficult for you.”

He chuckled, “Since when?”

Your whole face was hot and you were thankful that the darkness of your room hid the nervousness that was surely showing on your face, “That’s…that’s fair.”

He was halfway through a laugh when you leaned in and pressed your lips against his. There was a moment of stillness when you were waiting for him to pull back, to get up and leave, but he didn’t. Instead, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze as he leaned into you. You felt the tension fading out of your body as your free hand came up to rest on the back of his neck, keeping his lips against yours.

When he finally pulled away to catch his breath, he finished the laugh he had started before you kissed him. He cupped the side of your face in his hand, “We do not have the same definition of the word difficult.”

You giggled, biting down lightly on your bottom lip, “No?”

He shook his head, “No.”

He didn’t give you the opportunity to come up with a smart remark as he pulled your lips back to his. You smiled as you melted against him. Your heart was beating so hard inside your chest you were sure that Nestor was going to be able to hear it in the silence of your room. He pulled you closer to him, his hand sliding to rest on the back of your neck. The feeling of his hands on you sent a wave of heat throughout your entire body and you let out a shaky moan as you kissed him.

He pulled back just enough so that his lips weren’t on yours, “You good?”

You nodded, “Yea,” you smiled, your voice soft, “Don’t stop, please.”

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. A smirk crossed his face for a moment before he kissed you again, harder this time. His fingertips pressed lightly into the nape of your neck and for the first time you could feel the neediness radiating off of him—it pulsated through his fingers and into your skin. His touch was magnetic, and you knew that you wouldn’t have been able to pull away from him even if you wanted to. Luckily, though, pulling away was the farthest thing from your mind.

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva x reader #nestor oceteva x you #nestor oceteva imagine #protective detail #chapter 6 #multichapter #fanfiction #my writing #drabblesmc

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sunnypogue · 4 years ago

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hockey rafe gets jealous & fights (blurb)

alright babes - there were quite a few requests for coho!rafe to get into a fight during a game.

fyi, it is v not allowed in college hockey, and results in a suspension. obviously rafe has already been in a couple fights this season, so getting in another one would be #bad.

also, pls disregard the rude things asshole mark says about the south - we do not like him.

(warnings: cursing, fighting, etc.)

you were the nicest girlfriend in the world. ever. in history.

you were sitting in a booth at your favorite mexican place, head resting in your palm as you sucked down your third margarita, straw never leaving your mouth.

meanwhile, your boyfriend, rafe was chatting away, oblivious to your boredom.

across from y’all were two visiting hockey players from ferris state - one was rafe’s good friend from bantam named wyatt, the other was wyatt’s teammate, mark.

it was a tradition for rafe & wyatt to grab dinner the night before their teams played, the hosting friend taking them to their favorite local hang. typically, this wasn’t a night you’d join in on, but rafe had been excited to introduce you to his childhood friend - you couldn’t say no.

you imagine it would have been fine if mark hadn’t tagged along.

mark was a lot from the jump. he was a transfer from a small minnesota college, and had never been south of the mason-dixon line. he had a loud personality and an even louder mouth, making small digs at anything related to the south - huntsville, the weather, the outfits, the men - you, being from the south, were over it. shockingly, your (normally) combative boyfriend hadn’t said anything about it, apparently too engrossed in his reunion with wyatt.

“hey babe,” you were jolted from your thoughts, as rafe nudged you with his shoulder. “wyatt and I are grabbing another drink - you want one?”

you looked down at your empty margarita glass, before looking back up towards him, nodding. “no salt this time, please.”

he smiled as he leaned down to kiss you, quick and chaste, before turning towards the crowded bar.

“what is that, your fourth one?” you heard mark scoff as soon as rafe was out of earshot.

you turned, crossing your arms as you faced the older boy. “is that a problem?”

he shrugged, sipping his beer. “just an observation.”

you rolled your eyes, leaning back into the booth. “you know, you don’t have to be here. you could go back to the hotel or wherever the hell you’re staying.”

he laughed, short and sharp. “and miss out on all this culture? I would hate to not get the full huntsville experience.”

you turned your head towards the bar, not wanting to engage with him. out of your peripherals, you watched him knock back the remainder of his beer (his fifth one, you bitterly noted) before he spoke,

“you know, I don’t think I’ve actually gotten the full huntsville experience.”

you angled your body towards him slightly, not responding, but intrigued in what he had to say next.

he leaned in, a smirk on his face, “I figure I might as well fuck a southern belle while I’m down here. seems like it’s all you people have to offer.”

you stared at him, mouth agape. “you’re a fucking pig, you know that?”

he laughed, sliding over to sit right across from you. “you’re a fuckin’ pig,” he repeated, mocking your drawl. “shit, honey, maybe you’ll do. you’ve kinda got that sloppy drunk southern thing going on - I can work with that.”

you were on your feet in a second, head reeling. “what the FUCK did you just say?”

he smirked, shrugging his shoulders, before you barreled on, yelling, “I can’t believe you’d fucking say that to a stranger, you little bastard! what the fuck do you think you’re doing, fucking hitting on me with my boyfriend literally 30 feet away,” your face was bright red, part embarrassed, part pissed, hands clutching your purse. “you’re a fucking pervert, fetishizing women like that!”

“what the hell is going on?”

you turned to see rafe and wyatt, both holding drinks, taking in the scene. mark was unfazed in his chair, an amused smile on his face. you were breathless, cheeks red, knuckles white.

“nothin’ man, thanks for the drink.” mark leaned forward to grab his beer from wyatt.

rafe moved towards you. “it doesn’t really look like nothing. my girlfriend usually doesn’t call strangers fucking perverts unless they deserve it.”

mark shrugged, “I don’t know man, she’s a little drunk - just started yelling. can’t understand much though, with that accent.”

you scoffed, anger flaring up again, “yeah right, you fucking insulted me and hit on me all the same breath. don’t turn this shit around on me.”

“whatever bitch, you’re drunk.” mark rolled his eyes, sipping on his beer.

rafe snapped, lunging forward -you and wyatt moved simultaneously, you grabbing at rafe’s arm, wyatt blocking him from getting any closer to mark.

“shut the fuck up, you little bitch.” rafe seethed, pointing his finger down at a smirking mark. “I’ll wipe that fucking smirk off your face - don’t fucking talk to her like that.”

you tugged on his arm, hard - he was trying to pry it free to swing over wyatt at mark. “babe, just forget it. let’s go.”

“no! this little fucking bitch thinks he can say shit like that, and then has the fucking balls to sit there and lie about it to my face? I’ll kill him!” rafe was still pushing against wyatt, who was fruitlessly trying to talk him down, while a small crowd started to form.

“rafe!” you snapped, leaning forward to grab his shoulder. “look at me!”

he glanced back, eyes wild. “let me go.”

“no. you can’t do this, not right now. you won’t be able to play tomorrow night - let’s just go.” you spoke, firm and even, feet planted as you tugged on his arm again.

rafe huffed, stepping back from wyatt with his hands up. “fuck you. I’ll see you on the ice, you fucking pussy.”

mark grinned, all teeth, as he stood up noisily from his chair. “bye y’all!” he hollered in a put-on accent, wiggling his fingers in a taunt.

you practically had to drag rafe out of there, lugging him to car.

“I’ll fucking go in there and kill him. I’ll do it.” rafe was seething, looking back towards the restaurant.

you grabbed his face, palms on both cheeks, forcing him to look you in the eye. “baby, you gotta breathe. he’s not fucking worth shit - not worth fighting, not worth being mad about, and certainly not worth getting scratched.”

rafe took a few ragged breaths, his hand clutching your wrist as he tried to calm down. you murmured words of encouragement, as he slowly started to relax.

when his breathing was even, you handed him his keys from your purse, squeezing his hand twice, before watching him slide into the drivers seat.

he was silent most of the ride home, hand tense on your upper thigh. you moved your hand to rest behind his neck, softly playing with the hair at his nape.

he broke the silence at a stop light, turning to look towards you as he mumbled, “you okay?”

you nodded. “yeah, he’s a grade-a prick, but nothing to write home about. just caught me off guard.”

rafe grunted, looking back at the road as the light turned green. “I could kill him for talking to you like that. who the fuck does that shit?”

you shrugged, fingers interlaced with his hair, grown out for the season. “he’s just trying to get in your head - classic instigator.”

“I’ll fucking kill him tomorrow. I will.” rafe growled under his breath, turning into his driveway.

“rafe,” you started, giving him a look as he parked the car. “you can NOT fight him - you’ll get ejected and be out for the next three games - coach is already mad about the last two fights.”

rafe rolled his eyes, tugging his hat down. “I don’t fucking care.”

you scrambled out of the car, chasing him to the door, grabbing the house key out of his hand before pushing him against the wall, your forearm solid against his chest. “look at me - you are NOT fighting some prick tomorrow because he drunkenly said some stupid shit. you’re not going to ruin your season and your relationship with your coach because of me. you got it?”

rafe’s look of shock quickly morphed into a grin, as he registered the fact that you had pinned him to the wall, growling like a feral kitten. “shit, baby, maybe I should have just let you fight him.”

you leaned off of him, preening a bit at the compliment as you unlocked the door with the key you jacked from him, “damn straight baby, I can handle myself.”

you yelped as he spanked you, hard.

the next day, you were perched in the stands with your friends, entire body tense as you watched the puck drop. rafe had promised he wouldn’t fight, but you had a feeling that promise wouldn’t keep if mark decided to mouth off about last night.

thankfully, they weren’t on the ice together, as rafe’s d-pair was rolled out against the top line (you couldn’t help but giggle at mark grinding it out on the fourth line). after two periods, you allowed yourself to relax a bit, sipping the lukewarm beer you had been clutching since the first intermission.

of course, that’s when rafe got stuck on a long shift, not able to change before his d-partner iced the puck, allowing the other team to change lines.

you audibly groaned as mark’s line hopped onto the ice, putting your beer down so you could cover your face.

through your fingers, you watched as mark barked something in rafe’s direction from outside of the face-off circle.

“oh fuck me.” you whispered, biting your lip.

“what’s up?” your friend asked, leaning down to check on you.

you couldn’t even respond, because as soon as the puck dropped, rafe was skating up the ice as if he was shot out of a cannon, boarding the ever living fuck out of mark.

“oh.” your friend mumbled, leaning back as y’all took in the chaos on the ice, watching as it devolved into an entire line brawl, refs getting knocked around in the action.

you waited for rafe after the game in your normal spot, down the hall from the dressing room, looking unimpressed as he emerged with wet hair and a shiner.

“you promised me you weren’t going to fight.” you pouted, leaning up to wrap your arms around his neck.

he shrugged, pushing his hair back, “I promised you I wasn’t going to ruin my season - and I didn’t. refs called me for 2 minute interference, that’s it.” he grinned.

you frowned, “yeah, well don’t get any ideas. you got lucky - you would have been out for the next month otherwise.”

rafe rolled his eyes, kissing you quick, before wrapping his arm around your shoulder as y’all headed out, “yeah, well, even so, it would have been worth it. little prick deserved it.”

you laughed, bumping your hip into rafe’s as y’all exited the arena, “my hero.”

#hockey rafe #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagine #drew starkey #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #obx #obx fic #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #she writes

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fanficsandfluff · 4 years ago

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The Snyder Cut: Headcanons (mostly of the tickly nature)

Bruce Wayne (Batman) ~ Batfleck, my love

He’s such a lover boy, and I can say that though I don’t exactly know how to explain what I mean. You just gotta understand.

He cares so strongly about EVERYONE. e v e r y o n e. Alfred, fucking loves the guy, jokes with him. The fucking “This is Alfred, I work for him.” MY MAN, STOP!

I think he just really wants to get along with everyone and wants everyone to get along in general.

But he lowkey crushes on Diana (at least in his mind, he’s keeping it lowkey, but we all see what’s happening)

I love the idea of this big hunk of a man getting soft with someone like Diana.

She makes him genuinely laugh this one time by saying something funny, and then they’re both laughing together.

Bruce definitely has one of those laughs where he throws his head back and shit and you can see his like Adam’s apple bobbing and everything.

But that’s if he’s really laughing.

And he has loud “HA”’s that are like really short but loud and then he kinda just snickers to himself for a while, holding his stomach.

And dude, the scene in freaking uhh… i think it’s BvS I’m not 100% (maybe i fucking imagined it who knows) where she like comes over to him and is fixing his wound….. tickle scenario hand picked from the gods right there

I can see a whole, “Woah!” from Bruce when Diana traces her fingers on some sensitive skin. And that Gal Godot smile is on her in an INSTANT.

Bruce will laugh if he’s with the right person. Like I headcanon that if he’s being tickled, he will laugh if it’s done by Diana or Barry, then like he’ll be forced to laugh if it’s Clark bc he overpowers the poor bat, but then he just has these hilarious bouts of angry growls and chuckles if Arthur is going after him.

I can’t even write about Batfleck being a ler because I will literally explode, so I’m done here

(((((butseriouslyifanyonewantstotalklerbatfleckwithmehmuplz)))))

Diana Prince (Wonder Woman)

I know the GIF isn’t from ZSJL but just let me live, ok? (Also I couldn’t find the one of Gal wiggling her fingers YOU KNOW THE ONE I’M TALKING ABOUT)

First off, Gal is the most horrible queen of giggles. I’ve seen those blooper reels. My god, girl, how do you keep getting hired?

SHE HAS SUCH A BIG SMILE IT’S LIKE THE ROCK IDK HOW THEIR TEETH AND MOUTH GET SO WIDE LOOKING

Diana will start tickle fights without a doubt.

She’s already very trustful and I also feel pretty handsy with people, especially those she may feel close to. So if she’s playful, you best watch out.

Her favorite targets are Bruce and Barry. I will not take criticism. Diana attacking Barry and reducing him to panicky shrieky laughs is my #1 thought. It’s not even living rent free, I’m commissioning it to be there.

Diana is one to laugh with her victims. She will wreck them and have a great time doing so.

She’ll be ticklish if she wants to be, but it isn’t often she gets pinned and tickled or anything like that.

The guys try to stay away from her or not go after her with tickles for fear of retaliation.

AQUAMAN, CYBORG, SUPERMAN, AND THE FLASH UNDER THE CUT

Arthur Curry (Aquaman)

So…. my man isn’t really ticklish. I really don’t think he is, I feel like his Atlantean genes make his skin a special kind of hard, if that makes sense?

THAT BEING SAID ARTHUR IS THE BIGGEST LER OMGGG

He’ll try and act all cool and ‘whatever’ around the League cuz that’s kind of his persona.

But he slowly gets to like them more and more and his playful side starts to come out.

He’ll tickle Barry out of pure annoyance. Like if Barry makes any kind of comment, he’ll just point his finger out and get that glint in his eye and Barry is sprinting for the hills.

Here’s my favorite headcanon: Arthur will tickle Bruce because he knows it pisses him off when he does it. Bruce will fight back and keep Arthur in his sights at all time and curse and growl at him. And Arthur thinks it’s hilarious.

Arthur as a ler will taunt and tease until the cows come home

“Huh, big guy? What’s that? Ahawww that’s what I thought!... Not so fast/tough/etc. now!... I will wreck you.”

Victor Stone (Cyborg)

Unfortunately… not ticklish. :(

But this boy has the sweetest laugh you will ever hear, and I will die on that hill.

Now that he has friends (superpowered friends, no less), he can slowly come alive and be himself.

I can see Victor not getting involved in tickle fights at first, but at a certain point he’ll be all like, “Okay, step aside so we can do this right” and just PIN THE SHIT OUT OF WHOEVER IS BEING TICKLED. His extra robot arms are killer!

Okay, when he laughs for the first time in front of the group, there’s that cliche moment of pause where everything stops and everyone just stares and listens to him. It’s so rare to hear him laugh because the poor kid barely even smiled around them in the beginning.

He SMIRKS

Now hear me out on this…

Okay, so half a face. Great. Weird. We love it. But you can see all of mischievous Victor when the guy SMIRKS. You see his eye squint and you can swear his robot eye gets a gleam of a different color.

Wait honestly as I was writing that, the thought of Victor’s eye and like his apparatus changing color based on his mood is golden.

Me sitting here, lowkey wishing Victor’s robot body had some kind of cuddly mode like Baymax lmfaoooo

Like the defense mode his body went into when he was around resurrected Supes, but for cuddles and being cute.

Clark Kent (Superman)

I was debating even including any headcanons for Superman bc I don’t care about him much, honestly.

I am v happy they kept in the whole ‘him staring at Flash through the speed storm’ scene bc I laughed so hard at that the first time i saw Josstice League in the theater.

Also I didn’t really like the black superman costume??? I’m not a comic buff, so I’m assuming that’s why. I am like the one person who missed the color from the Josstice League cut. Don’t miss the stupid red sky in the finale, but I miss every other ounce of color that was just SUCKED right out of the Snyder Cut.

Clark and Bruce are besties now, I don’t make the rules. Bruce bought the man his house back. By buying the bank. He’ll take care of him.

And I’ve always simped for those two ever since BvS, bc I’ve already written like two fics where they tickle each other.

Clark overpowering Bruce to tickle the shit out of him makes me so happy lol. Big strong boy Batfleck looking thiccc over here… but put him against Superman and he’s donezo. Because as mentioned earlier, I do think Bruce is pretty ticklish.

But Clark can have his lee side when he’s feeling nice

He’s got that mighty chuckle, almost like how Thor might laugh.

And he really likes getting involved in tickle fights with the League. He knows all of them are sorta afraid of him on the daily anyway, but have that power added to a tickle fight and it’s fun as hell.

He’s gotten taken down by them ONCE. And I mean exactly (1) O N C E.

They all teamed up. Bing, bang, boom. Pinned him to the floor and they each took an area of skin and fucking SQUEEZED AND WIGGLED. They were trying to incapacitate him as quickly as possible. And dangummit, he laughed a lot! Like Clark realized just how ticklish he could feel if he wanted to feel it.

And don’t even get me started on Lois, he’s big on getting her to giggle and she likes toying with him and running her hands all over his body (bc who wouldn’t?)

Barry Allen (The Flash)

I waited to write about Barry last because I have so much to say about this character....

and then I fell asleep and waited until the next day to write anything down about him so now I’m totally not in the mood and I forgot all the salient points I was planning on making.

fuck you, michelle.

I got a weird relationship with this character. He was mad annoying in the Josstice League. Thank goodness they trimmed his bad jokes down.

But now....

when he got hurt at the end and he was like crying and shit oh my god I wanted to hug him

His character got so... good

And I’m now at the right age where I can think about myself in a relationship with this character with no changes or shame

We both out here trying to find that one good job after college and everything

BARRY JUST WANTS FRIENDS, GUYS

HE’S THAT CUTE

And then he got this whole found family schtick with the Justice League!!! Lookit him!!! Thriving!

He has total little brother energy

like, pesky little brother. Bothers everyone, looks over people’s shoulders while they’re deep in thought or concentrating on something.

Asks a lot of questions.

All the more reason for the gang to want to tickle the shit out of him.

Barry just reads like a super ticklish lee. Like his whole character.

Maybe touch starved because he said he needed friends, and I don’t think he has siblings??? (sorry if i’m wrong about that, comic fans)

I already named some of my fav headcanons about him getting tickled by like Diana and such, and I’m sticking with it.

Barry does flee. He runs away with super speed.... but sometimes he just kinda wants the tickles so he lets them have at him.

The chase is all part of the fun with tickling Barry, though. That’s what makes it so entertaining. And Barry isn’t afraid to be a little shit about it either. He will super-speed around his pursuers and poke their sides and tickle them back really quickly before they even know what’s happening.

Barry doesn’t exactly hold back his laughter lol. He’ll protest and scream and squirm like crazy, but once he’s actually tickled, he loses it.

Pure boy. With funny ass facial expressions.

And it really doesn’t help that I never realized just how hot Ezra Miller is, even though I heard he’s not a great person irl. Oh well.

THAT’S ALL FOLKS!

Please please let me know if y’all have things to add, to squee over, to question me about... please. anything. i’m here for you. thanks for reading, guys!

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twink-frank · 4 years ago

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hi i’ve noticed the pencey prep gay conversation going on over on @awsugar and i have spent lots of time dissecting pencey prep lyrics and subjecting nathan @faggot-frank to my deranged ramblings so Here is my pencey prep super ultra mega gay lyrical analysis masterpost. it’s very long so its all under the cut but i will include a TL;DR for those who dont wanna read paragraphs of my deranged ramblings: Pencey prep uses lots of themes of: heartbreak, forbidden love, keeping love a secret, and toxic relationships. which none of that is gay on its own but combined with them almost never using gender indicators in their songs and the “nail in the coffin song” of 8th grade it ends up being a very Fruity Album.

I will be going through heart break in stereo in order and pointing out which lyrics and elements of certain songs jump out to me as Super Mega Gay and then summarizing my conclusions at the end <3

1 ) PS Don't Write

PS don't write is about leaving a toxic relationship, it has notes of moving on and leaving someone behind. "packed up all my shit / stole back all my tapes / left your spare key under the mat / this is not a joke / you'd better learn to take a hint / 'cause i'm not coming back / maybe you'll understand / when you're waking up alone / in a cold and empty bed." it has no gender indicators or pronouns which is the case in a lot of pencey prep songs, and something i'll bring up quite a bit. it also has general "coming of age" themes, something common in lots of pencey prep songs. which Yeah apply to straight people to but read in this context combined with future evidence can be pretty Fuckin Gay. "somewhere along the line / i found a hidden strength / i didn't know i had / standing on my own / cutting all the strings / that you used to control / surprise surprise / i am long gone / if you thought you could hold me down / by holding me up / you were wrong / you don't call the shots anymore." not to say only gay people can find inner strength and the room to love themselves but combined with other context it is a really poignant message about accepting yourself for who you are.

2) Yesterday

Yesterday is very repetitive and has a lot less to analyze, but the constant themes of wanting to "run away" strike me as very Fruity. once again, not saying gay people are the only people who can want to run away or escape from something But Combined With Other Context. and once again a song with no gender indicators, doesnt specify who the speaker is running away with or what they are running away from. just that they want to Leave. "i wanna run with you / i don't care what we do / gotta get out of this place / because it feels like yesterday." also saying "it feels like yesterday" could mean that the town feels backwards or old timey in its beliefs, implying homophobia. how the speaker wants to run away from an old fashioned town.

3) Don Quixote

i'm going to bring up the cultural significance of this title and literary reference first. Don Quixote is a classical novel by Cervantes which is about a crazy dude who thinks he's a knight, and goes on weird adventures with his best friend. It's typically used as a symbol of following your dreams and breaking free from what people expect of you. In the context of the song its used as a symbol of following your dreams with Someone. once again this someone is given no gender indicators. "you say it's not worth it / been burned too many times / if your spine's receding / you can borrow some of mine / don't go and quit right now / cause i'd follow you through hell." "you say so many things / and not a word of it was true / if you're still in that state of mind / i'd still vacation inside of you / cause i think you're worth every minute / and every dime that i spend / i'd spend all my time fighting dragons / just to keep you alive and talking." it's about wanting to spend time with someone, wanting to be with them no matter what. and its also about how this person feels unreachable, like being with them would be a fairytail but the speaker Still Reaches for it. "your imaginations running wild / round your deceptive heart / this is my crusade / and you're the unreachable star / but i'm reaching." talking about this person being unreachable and unattainble. which isnt gay By Itself but again combined with the other context. FRUIT BEHAVIOR.

4) 10 Rings

another breakup song once again with no gender indicators, are you guys sensing a theme here? anyways this song is about someone cutting you off and then coming back suddenly wanting to talk again after breaking your heart. it has a sense of forbidden love, like this person Told the speaker they cant be together for Whatever Reason ;] and is now trying to come back and repair their mistake when the speaker is already hurt and reeling. "learn to live with decisions you make / i learned things from the break i can't forget / catch you doing drive-bys at 1 AM / it must kill you to know we can't be friends." "end of the summer you cut me off / i cut you out all the pictures i have." which this Isnt Gay By Itself. but bringing that phrase back with other context this is such a uniquely gay experience. being in love with someone and they cut you off Because theyre weirded out by that and then they try to come back, convince you it meant nothing.

5) The Secret Goldfish

my FAVORITE pencey song. this one has a lot. it's another breakup song about heartbreak and loss and im not even gonna dwell on the no gender indicators because yall see the theme now. it has themes of heartbreak and losing someone who is very close to you and having to let go of them and having to accept that this person cant be yours and you cant be with them. "land of the lost / i found myself in nothing / this time, promises broken find me / clutching to you for something / something that you're not / believing in what you say / it makes me lie awake at night / the truth, the truth is not what scares me / it's why you have to lie / all the time." here we see these themes of having to let someone go because they just Aren't The Same as you. "clutching to you for something / something that you're not." maybe like chasing after a straight boy and getting rejected? also the repetition of "heartbreak is forever" when you're young and gay losing that first person you felt some kind of love and attraction to can feel like the end of the world and can be a huge deal because of the lack of representation and guidance young gays get. and the themes of nothing lasting forever, the fact that gay people never get promised eternal love the same way straight people do.

6) 8th Grade

this song is the nail in penceys fucking coffin honestly. the rest of these songs have a lot of plausible deniability, just vague enough to maybe Not Be Gay. but framed in the context of 8th grade they all start to get a lil fruity. Im just gonna go through lyric by lyric for this one. "caught staring again / like a deer in the headlights / when you can't move fast enough / i take a hit for the team / pretty girl is blushing / i can't tell if she's disgusted / laughter starts to swell / someone gets the joke." this kid was staring at some cute boy ass and got caught and everyone is laughing at him for being gay. the "pretty girl" here is what most people think he's staring at but with the rest of the song it's obvious she's not the one he's looking at. "bells ring, i make my escape / helps a little, but doesn't save / beat downs a common thing / with us every day / maybe im just strange / cause i dont change schools / so maybe i like the abuse / or maybe i just like you." literally This is the nail in penceys fucking coffin. "maybe i like the abuse or maybe i just like you." this kid purposefully takes beatings from his bully who is Obviously male if you take into context the next verse. because he Likes Him. "maybe im just strange / cause i dont change schools" literally willingly taking beatings from his bully bc he has a crush. "another confrontation / you've got something to prove / your girl can't tell how tough you are / when you beat me up in the boys room." this just confirms that the subject of the song is a boy, and a tough macho boy with something to prove. maybe also hiding his own internalized homophobia through bullying? "well i made a big mistake / but i can't help who i like / this may not cost my life / but i am branded forever lame." LITERALLY ITS RIGHT IN YOUR FACE. "can't help who i like" "branded forever lame" do i even need to fucking explain this oh my god. he got outed as gay, he Can't Help Who He Likes and is now branded forever as "the gay kid." the rest of the song is general "im gonna get back at my bully" stuff but literally THIS. THIS is the song that brands all penceys other very vague songs as 100% verified super mega ultra gay.

7) 19

this song has a lot less, and is more about internal struggle than anything. but it is the only song with a "she" pronoun in it. but there is one thing i wanna mention. "I scream out loud / but no one hears a sound / i take my life with lack of sleep / i believe the things i feel / the things i see are fooling only me." this song is about not believing what the world shows you, believing what you think is true in your heart and what You feel. not what anyone else tells you. which is a gay experience. believing in yourself and your heart and your feelings, believing theyre right and theyre true and valid. Also this song has a significance in coming right after 8th grade on the album, going from being 13 to 19, from being unsure in your feelings and angry about the people who dont like you to lost and hopeless but somewhat grounded in yourself.

8) Trying To Escape The Inevitable

this song is about an abusive and toxic relationship, knowing you Need to escape it but being so infatuated with the person you literally cant. “i have this reoccurring dream / you make it hard for me to breathe / i gave you everything i could / i gave up everything i owned / and when you smile it’s not for me / you offer little sympathy / your grasp so far exceeds your reach / i wake up, this is not a dream.” “i have this reoccuring dream / where you admit that you’re not happy / i know that you will never leave / you’re here just to torment me.” which like again this isnt an exclusively gay experience but it is very interesting when framed that way. in that gay people are way more likely to throw themselves into abusive and toxic relationships because they dont feel like they can get anybody else. the repetition of “i know i should run” makes it seem like the speaker Knows he should get out but he just Cant because what if he never finds love again? and the little reprise in the middle “i have a new dream / and everything is perfect / the sky is pink, yellow, green, blue, and orange / and all the past has been forgotten / and we fell in love / and we fell in love / and we fell in love / and i fell into your trap.” implying that even if he escapes, even in his dreams he still falls for this person because he feels like he cant have anything else.

9) Lloyd Dobbler

another love song about wanting to have someone but not being able to because of Unspecified Forbidden Reasons. “why are you so far away / even when you’re standing next to me? / your eyes give you away / telling secrets your mouht don’t feel like talking.” falling in love with someone, maybe sensing that they like you too. that they Are Like You and that they have a Secret they dont want to vocalize. do i even need to explain it at this point? and in the chorus “That I’ll be your lloyd dobbler / with a boom box out in the street / and i’ll be there if you need someone / even if he isn’t me.” saying you’ll be there for someone even if that person isn’t you, also the use of Pronouns which is big for pencey prep. which yes the use of “even if he isnt me” could imply a straight girl ooorrr....Fruit Behavior. also this line “There’s a norman rockewll painting / of two kids sitting on a bench / it reminds me of all the stupid things / i’d like for us to share, but i dont care.” normal rockwell is a painter that paints traditionally “american” scenes. like the american ideal, that maybe he wants with this person. but he knows he cant have, but its stupid and domestic and he wants it but he Cant Have It because of FRUIT BEHAVIOR.

10) Florida Plates

another of my favorite pencey songs, and this one brings back those tragic “love but we cant have it” themes, except with a more somber tone. instead of being angry or resentful or spiteful in the face of adversity. its an Acceptance, of what they had and how good it was and how it just Cant Last. “kiss a mouth to open eyes / stall one last moment before goodbye / drive in different cars in different directions / never write all the letters full of good words, better intentions / it’s for the best although we don’t know it / paper words will cheapen the moments we shared / it’s better if i say nothing at all.” it’s about knowing you have to leave someone, even if having them in the moment is great they Can’t Stay and you can’t even talk or write about the moments you had. which do i even need to explain it at this point? forbidden love, not being able to have each other, not even being able to Talk about it. its a secret, and painful one but its beautiful while you have it. Conclusion alright!!! thank you so so much if you read all the way through that i Know it was long i Know it was a lot of repetition but i wanted to make my point. pencey prep has very big gay themes in their music. with forbidden love, letting go, heartbreak, keeping secrets, toxic realtionships. which none of it is gay on its own but in the context of: almost none of the songs having clear gender indicators and always speaking really vaguely about the subject and Eight Grade the “nail in the coffin song” you can see my point thank you and goodnight.

#adrian speaks #mcr #pencey prep #frank iero

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hopefullystillatheatrestudent · 4 years ago

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okay so i’ve been going crazy these past few days. all about cockles/jensmish and obsessively watching their panels or reading the transcripts BECAUSE. THEY ARE LOUD. LIKE. i saw some fancams on twt and i thought people were just exaggerating but noooooooooo!!!???? so, getting to the point. you said that how do we know that jensen is performing masculinity? because jared isn’t and THAT IS A BIG BRAIN MOMENT. ON POINT. I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH. a particular moment from gag reel that jumps out (which you’ve talked about) when jensen goes ‘cas, you are my baby daddy’ and misha goes, ‘i know i love you too’ and jensen goes, ‘i didn’t say i love you’ and misha goes, ‘i know you wanted to’ and jensen says, ‘i love you’ WHAT THE FUCK! that was NOT a joke. yes, people took it as a joke and had a good laugh BUT I HAVE WATCHED IT TOO MANY TIMES AND IT LIVES IN MY MIND RENT FREE BECAUSE IT WAS NOT A PERFORMANCE. THAT WAS JENSEN. THAT WAS MISHA. jensen has a had trouble with the pda and being all touch feely (the breakup theory) and he gradually grew into it, accepted it and misha was right there all along, never pushed it. it was like a deancas au but tbh, 99% of destiel is because of cockles and we all know it. i just. jensen has latched onto dean as an emotional support because he tunes with it. understands it. projects on to it. yeah, i just had to say it and get it off my chest. (and what about those poetry pages on instagram? alma? what is your opinion?) btw, you have a lovely blog and your analysis are right on target.

so there is a LOT i’m going to address here(how dare you bring up [gunshot] i HAVE to talk about it now) so again!!!! under a cut it goes but i hope you appreciate my rambles anon it seems like you do :,)

1. jared vs. jensen and performing masculinity. hell yeah man. jared and jensen are both just ‘guys from texas’ but they are still so vastly different. today i actually had a revelation that i’m pretty sure has to do with me being bi. and it’s that i have a group of straight friends(that i love dearly but they care too much about hockey and pitbull imo could not be me) and i have a group of queer friends(who are also batshit[affectionate]). and it’s like whichever group i hang out with a different side of me emerges? they’re both me, it’s just that certain aspects of who i am as a person only surface depending on who i am around. however, i will say i feel like i watch what i say around my straight friends more. i see that very clearly in jensen as well. around jared during panels and on set, he’s definitely putting on an air of machismo and engages in typical guy talk. i do think an element of it is performative, because he wants validation from jared that they’re still just two dudes from texas taking on the world together despite his sexual identity. does that make any sense??? i hope so. but when he’s with misha he is an entirely different person and his sense of humour becomes wildly different. the machismo fades away, he’s way less caught up in what people think about him, lets his guard down, etc. to go back to my original point which is how j2 are different in that regard....jared does not do this. he is a constant. he does not flip a switch between ‘performing masculinity’ and ‘not’ because he isn’t performing any part of who he is. he just IS. so yeah these two are similar in many regards but there’s somewhat of a dissonance between them when it comes to how they perform masculinity because one of them is putting on a show and the other is merely being.

2. that crypt scene blooper(here just in case you need to see it again. do it. as a treat.) when i tell you i have easily seen this over thirty times??? since it first came out??? i mean it. it is such an overlooked(r*mantic) moment and it means so much more than people think it does. i’ve talked about the context behind it, and i think that’s why this blooper was so meaningful, so i’ll mention it again. jensen and misha had a LOT of trouble with this scene. the reason is that jensen couldn’t wrap his head around why dean would be saying these things, if i remember correctly, and both of them sat down and scoured over how they should play it for a while before filming(teamwork ;) teammates *ahem*). [to be honest we all know why jensen had a hard time with that scene and it is because it is blatantly romantic. rip to him but i would simply give in to it at that point but oh well] so anyway, their heads were scattered going into shooting, which is NEVER a good headspace to be in for a scene, ESPECIALLY not a pivotal one. but they had each other to help them through said weird energy on set that couldn’t possibly have invoked the best feelings, especially considering jensen STILL doesn’t think he played that correctly(but he praised misha on his performance :,) ). and with that context every single part of that video hits haRD

-’stop pulling my face towards your crotch’ i think this is objectively hilarious because it really really looks like jensen is pulling HIMSELF towards misha’s crotch. again, you’re fooling no one, jensen. misha’s wheezing laugh and the way he wraps himself around jensen is also,,,sweet??? like i don’t know how else to describe how i see it but this moment really reads as jensen, in his weird ‘constructing elaborate rituals’ way is asking for security through a physical touch from misha and he happily obliges and gives jensen what he needs. because i mean...watch it again. jensen ‘fights back’, but not really at all, actually. pretty wimpy counterattack. he literally lets himself be smothered by misha, and i would literally describe what they end up doing as cuddling.

-’i need you, cas. you’re my baby daddy’ i love having an actor’s perspective on things bc i think i can explain what’s going on here. jensen just delivered what was(in his own mind) a rotten take of the lines he’s most scared of delivering. so the scene was already messed up. therefore; ensuing fuckery is warranted to help him feel better. but there’s also for sure more than meets the eye for what he says here because of misha’s reaction after??? like he seemed genuinely touched. first of all, he’s saying ‘you’re my baby daddy’ as half-jensen, but not necessarily dean either(because he didn’t say the previous lines as true to his character...you get it), to misha, not cas. i think i’ve made this point before, but every single innuendo in the gag reels is to misha specifically, never once cas. therefore; logical conclusion: ‘you’re my baby daddy’ was for misha and it meant something deeper than we think because of what follows it

-this part. jensen’s giddy ass smile after he sees misha crack and then misha says ‘yeah, i know’ (can i just say his voice when he says this is so intimate???? like am i intruding guys??? sorry i’ll let myself out) also he is smiling SO BIG

- ‘i know’ ‘why are you laughing?’ ‘no i know i love you too’ this analysis is already so long but i still want to get into what THAT whole exchange means. ‘why are you laughing?’ to me sounds like jensen’s pretending to be affronted by misha laughing at something that is serious. and it’s serious because he quite literally meant ‘i love you’. he did. misha knows it. misha’s really REALLY good at cutting the bs and just getting to what people are actually trying to say. he has an innate sharpness to his sense of humour. so yes, misha is being 100% accurate when he says ‘i know, but you wanted to say it.’ misha isn’t lying here. jensen did want and mean to say ‘i love you’. and then he actually does say it(in a jokey way but not really).

- so yeah. it is actually so romantic??? like in a weird way jensen was professing his love for misha here?????? and that’s why this clip will NEVER. ever. get old.

3. jensen having trouble with pda and projecting onto dean: we can all call ourselves dean coded cas girls but NO one deserves that title more than jensen ackles himself. he is dean winchester but marginally less repressed because he actually did admit he was in love with his best friend and let himself be happy, and pretty early on too. one year and two months as opposed to twelve years. so. happy deancas au is correct. and yes about the pda thing: one day i want to write my own post about both of their body language when it comes to each other, but all i can tell is jensen, even in the early days, couldn’t help himself from flirting with misha, but if misha ever crossed a line, jensen would not be happy. clearly he’s come around, however. what i find sweet is that misha always follows jensen’s lead when it comes to how much affection they’re allowed to show each other onstage. it touches my soul

4. destiel is cockles fault. yeah. and the thing is everyone knows it, too. even non-cockles shippers will explain early destiel as entirely dependant on jensen and misha’s wild chemistry. and that chemistry is easily explained by the fact that misha and jensen are literally just wildly horny bisexuals who were crazily attracted to one another and were falling in love on screen before our very eyes. and when you have THAT insider info(which sounds cray doesn’t it!!!! the destiel actors are in love irl??? huh???) everything really does click into place. why destiel got SO popular when the show and actors never ever intended for it to happen.(i know some people think misha was playing cas as gay the whole time for shits and giggles, and i won’t deny that[especially considering he found out early on that destiel was why he was staying on the show], but i don’t think he really wanted it to amount to anything, nor did he care??? i mean he has the real thing with jensen, for one, so their characters aren’t really as important. for two, he loves joking about destiel because it’s a cultural phenomenon and it’s fascinating, and i’m sure he did ship it because he’s unhinged, but i don’t think it was vastly important to him either way.) destiel got popular because everyone was and is unintentionally reading into the real deal. i could pull up countless gifs that people have used as destiel proof that is actually just jensen and misha being messy. mainly jensen. if i’m being honest. the symbiotic relationship between destiel and cockles is why i’ve stayed onboard the destielcule and shellerscape for three solid months now; because it is utterly fascinating to witness and kind of super beautiful, too.

5. alma(and others). so. i do NOT want to really REALLY get into this in its entirety here and now so i will just give you my opinion on if i think alma is misha or not. also; i don’t want to mention the other poetry accounts here bc i feel like that’s a bigger breach in privacy, but a lot of people do know about alma now. way too many, actually. this is why we can’t have nice things. anyway-to answer your question-there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that yes, misha is running that alma poetry account. i am 100% certain. some people think it’s actually three people and they’re all connected to misha in some way but that is so needlessly complicated. as it goes in psychology; the easiest explanation is probably the right one. it’s just one person running that account, and it is misha collins. i don’t know why it’s so hard to believe KNOWN POET misha collins(who is known to spend most of his free time writing poetry anyway) would have created a secret poetry account to write about his intense secret relationship under an alias and also get legitimate feedback since no one used to know it was him. oh and the handwriting is identical??? you are blind if you do not see that i am sorry. and a million other things prove it’s misha too but yeah all you need to know is yes. it’s him. it would take a literal livestream from a random woman on that account to convince me otherwise. and honestly not even that because a random woman could technically still log in if misha asked her too. so. it would take a hell of a lot to convince me otherwise, clearly. that said DO NOTTTTTTTTTTTT GO ONTO THAT ACCOUNT WITH A SUPERNATURAL RELATED USERNAME AND COMMENT THINGS THAT ARE COCKLES RELATED. ARE YOU BRAIN DEAD WHY WOULD YOU THINK THAT’S OKAY. sorry i got heated but god please just don’t be dumb so many people have already gone way too far

6. thank you for your lovely compliment on my analyses!!! i love doing them but i don’t know if people actually like reading them so i really appreciate it

#liz answers #cockles ask #mini analysis #spec #mine

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shimmershae · 3 years ago

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Some, okay a lot, of pre-mid season (tri? season) finale thoughts. As if you actually asked for them, lol.

And no, I haven’t actually watched the last episode yet. I’ve been putting it off all morning. For reasons. Reasons that I felt the inexplicable need to put on paper, er, screen.

If you care at all to read the purging of my fatigued TWD fangirl mind, please look beneath the cut. Fair warning. It’s long so pull up a chair maybe, lol.

I’ll admit it. The spoilers indicating a significant lack of Carol/Melissa content has dampened much of my enthusiasm and there wasn’t all that much to start with.

Let me tell you why--

The season, so far, has been woefully unbalanced in favor of the Reaper storyline and the Maggie/Negan conflict (which ties back to the Reaper storyline by the flimsiest of strings) and I’m just not invested.

Why?

Well, it’s multifold.

#1 reason why? Having a third of the last season ever of TWD devoted to going inside “the lions’ den” of villains I have no emotional connection to or curiosity about is a big fat fail.

You might say “but there’s the Daryl double agent” aspect and I say “so fucking what” because it was so poorly conceived and has felt like such a WTF set of fraying puppet strings for this plot Angela was apparently jonesing to tell from the GO, damn the torpedoes she had to know where inevitably coming her way.

Seriously. I had talked myself into accepting that which I could not change, citing Daryl’s emotional brokenness after Rick. Convincing myself he’d lost his anchor to goodness and hope and fulfillment in his years of self-imposed exile from Carol and what was left of his family and to a certain extent? I can still by that explanation. But really. It’s the Leah of it all.

Let me attempt to explain.

To do that, maybe I should detail how I’ve always perceived Daryl.

Daryl, IMHO, began this journey with us and the rest of Team Family with a figurative fortress erected around his true, core self.

He was prickly. Defensive to any overtures of kindness because he inherently did not trust them. Loathe to form any real connection to anyone other than Merle, his blood.

Daryl balked at the possibility of emotional connection and flinched in learned fear from physical touch.

He did not recognize or accept affection or respect at face value because it was something rarely shown to him before.

Anybody else remember that childhood abuse book from Consumed? You know. One of those first times the showrunners/writers dumped a character nugget in our laps and left it to us to do all the backstory in our own imaginations so they didn’t have to enrich their own characters beyond the scratch and sniff, wham bam this is who they are work?

Anyway. We were left to extrapolate from that what most of us h ad already suspected--that Daryl’s formative years were already a living hell before the ZA ever happened.

So he was standoffish. He didn’t form emotional connections lightly and physical intimacy was something light years out of his comfort zone.

Until Carol.

Daryl’s defenses started to crumble from the very start with Carol because she piqued his interest. He looked at her, watched her withstand Ed’s abuse, and recognized something of himself.

Against his will, Daryl started to care and when Carol lost the one good thing that had come out of her miserable life with Ed--Sophia--Daryl’s core identity started to be revealed to us and probably? To himself after burying it so deep for so long.

Long story short? Daryl connected with Carol pretty quickly on a base level through the trauma of Sophia’s loss.

The real connection, the emotional work it too to peel all those protective layers away took more like--like planting a flower from seed and tending it to help it survive and flourish.

Simply said? The work was put in and Daryl bloomed with Carol’s (and Team Family’s) care. They all put in varying degrees of work but Carol planted the seed of his “belonging.”

And the thing about Daryl? Once he bloomed? He grew strong. He stretched toward the sun.

He and Carol essentially bloomed and fought their way toward the sunlight together.

And little by little, Daryl learned to accept the kindness, trust, and love he always deserved.

From that newly confident man emerged a Daryl not so fearful of forming connections and none have ever been more powerful than his connection to Carol.

I’ll spare ya’ll the paragraphs of how Daryl and Carol gravitated toward each other like magnets no matter the means of separation.

I’ll just spell it out like this: their bond supersedes all others, even Daryl’s bond with Rick. And with Daryl only accepting affection from those he trusts implicitly, Carol and Daryl have been the only potential “romantic” pairing that has ever fully made sense for his established character.

At least the character before Angela launched the grenade of Leah into the mix.

Leah was a fail from the start.

And you know what? I’m thinking that was largely intended (for various reasons) but I still think they could have shown Daryl as receptive to having a “romantic” relationship to those willfully blind to the possibility that he’s actually been in a “romantic” relationship with Carol since Season 2. Never mind that Carol and Daryl haven’t (yet) crossed certain physical boundaries yet. Emotionally? They are already there even if neither is able to admit it out loud with the actual words yet. But I digress. The people that never wanted to “see” Carol and Daryl as “romantic” because they couldn’t fathom Daryl as seeing Carol in that light had already deemed that Daryl just didn’t feel that way about her, that maybe he didn’t feel that way about anybody (if they couldn’t have their way and have him feel that way about their preferred choice for him, they preferred him alone), and Angela wanted to show them differently. To show them the light.

That said, if Angela was so hellbent on doing Leah? There were a multitude of better ways.

Here. I’ll give you one of them.

Daryl isolates himself from his family after Rick’s “death” same as he did in Angela’s version.

Carol’s been being pulled more and more to the Kingdom because Henry’s needing a mother figure is like catnip to her hurting natural-born, hurting Mama’s heart. So Daryl’s anchor to the man he’d matured into, the one with all these earned emotional attachments, is reeled back in, little by little, leaving him unmoored.

Dog literally runs into him just as before. It hardly makes sense given how young and floppy and uncoordinated puppies are and thus vulnerable to danger, but this is the least of things we need to worry about suspending disbelief for right? ;)

Dog and Daryl continue to have these run ins until Daryl decides to retrace the puppy’s clumsy trail and viola! He finds Leah’s cabin and Leah inside. She levels the same shotgun at him, they have a standoff, until---

Leah suddenly lowers the gun and incredulously says Daryl’s name.

That’s right. One simple change and Daryl and Leah have an undefined past already.

Daryl doesn’t completely let his guard down because he’s Daryl, but he relaxes enough that we see he doesn’t immediately regard Leah as dangerious to his own well-being.

From that point on, instead of tying Daryl up and threatening him, we could have been told the story of how they knew each other from before.

My version goes a little something like this--

Daryl met Leah through Merle. Merle, in turn, met Leah through the military before he got discharged. He and Leah had an ongoing “I scratch your itch if you scratch mine” thing and Leah? Well, she always had a bit of a soft spot/interest in Daryl that Daryl never really returned.

The thing is, though? With losing the chosen brother that filled the hole left behind by his lost blood brother Merle and losing Carol to her chasing after a chance of a new family (because she feels Daryl’s out of her reach too, our too blind and stupidly, silently in love idiots)? Daryl finds himself embracing the shared memories however minimal of that brief past and his grief and loneliness leave him receptive to Leah’s eventual advances in ways he never was before.

We’re still given hints of their unfolding relationship and we still don’t like it, but it makes more sense for Daryl to cling to the past when he feels he’s lost his future.

Leah still gives her ultimatum (there’s a reason she gravitated toward Merle in perhaps his most toxic state, she’s more than a little fucked up too) and it’s not as much of a hard sell that Daryl might be pulled in Leah’s direction when he feels Carol is all but lost to him.

Hell. They could have even explicitly discussed Carol. But wait! Angela would have never allowed that because she doesn’t want to shatter all the crackship dreams in one fell swoop.

But the story from that point on could have continued just as it has and probably I still wouldn’t have liked it but I could have at least bought it somewhat and understood it.

Obviously, it didn’t.

I don’t buy the Leah of it all. Angela built that “relationship” with monopoly money and it shows.

Because I don’t buy Leah period. I don’t buy Daryl giving even giving a shit about trying to or feeling like there’s a snowball’s chance to redeem her so I’m not engaged whatsoever with this Daryl double agent story and him even givign her crumbs about his real family.

That part rings false.

So that’s a big problem right there and we haven’t even gotten to the other part I don’t buy.

You know what else I don’t buy?

#2?

Why the hell are the Reapers so bloodthirsty for Maggie’s departure from this mortal coil?

Without giving better reasoning than they’re just cray-cray, the entire faceplants and considering it’s taken up about 70% of 11A’s focus? I’m pissed.

Because, IMHO, they should go big or go home on this to give it any entertainment value because it’s all stale, recycled air if not.

Maggie’s been established as a much darker character this season. Which led me to believer the Reapers probably had a legit beef against her, but it seems Angela is reluctant to go all that way down the rabbit hole and doesn’t want to commit to what could be a more entertaining and potentially fascinating story than just Maggie’s in the right, the Reapers are just evil.

Maggie is right about Negan, IMHO, but she’s also wrong in not listening to him when what he’s saying reeks of simple common sense. Ignoring sage advice makes her seem more like an angry toddler stamping her feet in defiance than the leader they are so bound and determined to tell us she is.

You know what? The window for me to give more than the half a fuck I’m giving right now as they beat this dead horse to dust closed when Maggie decided letting Negan rot in the ASZ jail cell was enough and spared him when she finally had her best chance to end him once and for all.

Maybe if they stopped having the same damn conversation and they didn’t take up 20% of the screen time left after the boring Reapers/Leah shit, I would be less resentful but I’m not and again, I’ll tell you why.

BECAUSE. We are in the last season of the OG TWD ever and this show has chosen to waste screen time on stories nobody cares about to the exclusion of the ones we’re yearning for more of.

Like ASZ. We’ve barely seen more than an hour of the eight hours devoted to Carol, Aaron, Rosita, Lydia, Judith, Kelly, Jerry and Co. in total. Especially since they’ve been trying to establish the Commonwealth on the side, too.

I mean, I never really expected to dig the Commonwealth so my expectations for it were lower than low so they’ve been exceeded at a miniscule level. But I expected and hoped for ASZ and those characters we’ve cared the most about to receive much more emphasis and the fact that they haven’t in this last season so far has been the biggest FAIL.

And okay. Selfishly, I want more Carol. She’s like salt. She makes almost everything go down better.

But really. Give me more of all the characters we actually care about, please. The Reapers and the offshoots from that story wheel aren’t it. I love Daryl but I hate this retread story for him. Leah is a weak point that pressed upon? Makes this weak ass arc collapse. Maggie and Negan are giving us nothing new. They are the definition of the word STALEMATE and that’s not what you want or need on the finale season of a show.

Yes, I have enjoyed the majority of the episodes overall, but that was because the moments I loved I weighted more than the ones I didn’t and know they have the most impact on the show down the road.

Probably 11A will fare better when all is said and done and the show can be binged but standalone? It’s been an overall disappointment and that saddens me more than I can say.

Anyway. I’m going to stop rambling now and try to psyche myself up for episode 8. I’ll be back with thoughts on it later, maybe.

Sorry for the word vomit, but I felt maybe I could in someway give voice to some of the feelings floating around out there and let you know that you are not alone.

Until later, lovelies.

#The Walking Dead #Season 11 #TWD spoilers #Shae's thinky thoughts #things that make me smile and cry #for reasons

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sunnywritesstuff34 · 3 years ago

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Illusions

(Yayyyy. Another one. It’s been a while, sorry. just wanna preface this by saying that like... I usually don’t really give a shit about Obito, but I figured this was a natural progression of the story and I kinda wanted to try and dive into Obito’s psyche a little so. here we go. tell me what you think. @ghostjellyfishheart here’s the next chapter lol. pls mind the tw’s)

TW and CW for: MAJOR UNREALITY, seriously stay safe, Obito is kinda spiraling a lot, grieving, struggling with morality, drinking, alcohol, less then stellar coping mechanisms of all kinds, don’t do this kids, child death, ghost child, dead kid, you don’t like... see her die but Rin is very much not alive, references to suicide, implied suicide, the uchiha massacre is its own warning, murder, its bad. its just. its just bad. did I mention unreality? a lot of that, death of a family member, obito is having a hard time with feelings, probably dis@ssociation, pretentious symbolism, scratch that, definitely dis@ssociation

Obito Uchiha is upset.

And that is, frankly, ridiculous. Obito does not get upset. What does upset even mean? Is he sad? Mourning, perhaps? Or is he just worried? Either way, its borderline impossible. He shouldn’t be feeling anything. Obito doesn’t feel anything. Sure, he plays at it, when he’s Tobi. He feigns and pretends, he’s good at that. That is what he is, that is all he is. To Itachi, he is Madara. To Konan and Nagito, he is Obito. To everyone else, he is Tobi. Obito has taken on mask after mask after mask on in his life, both figuratively and literally. Sometimes he doesn't know where Obito ends and another begins. Obito does not feel anything, not for anyone that isn't Rin. Never for anyone that isn't Rin, and he left her behind a long time ago. And yet this boy, this child, has him reeling somehow. Has him… well, like before, the only word he can use is upset. He is rattled. And it has been so long, so long since he’s felt anything at all, that he doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know how to fix it. He kept seeing Sasuke in his head, kept remembering memories from years ago when he thought about the kid being gone forever. He remembered the first few years Itachi brought Sasuke to the compound, he remembered spontaneously discovering his obsession with tomatoes by accident with Kisame (who would not stop laughing. He had just never seen anybody. Put an entire tomato in their mouth. And Sasuke did it like it was the most natural thing in the world! Kisame wouldn't shut up about it for at least a week). He remembered helping the boy train with his newly forged chokuto, he remembered the grim determination towards his family and how much it reminded Obito of himself, he remembered all of it. And none of that should have mattered, because it wasn't real. None of it was real, the next world would be. The next world with Rin and Kakashi and Minato-sensei still alive, a world without… without Sasuke. Or any of the other Akatsuki. And that was what he wanted. He was sure that was what he wanted. Only in his room could he show the weakness tightly coiled in his stomach. But there was a knock on his door and it made him straighten up, instantly putting the mask that he just took off back on his face. He walked to the door and opened it, only to find the older Uchiha brother staring back at him. Obito blinked.

“Itachi-san. What are you… what are you doing here? I- uh… come in.” Obito and Itachi sat down at the small table in Obito’s room and stared at each other awkwardly. “So… how can I help you?” Obito tried to ask, unsure of whether to say it like Tobi or just let his guard down and talk like himself (whoever that was). Itachi cleared his throat.

“You are the only person in this godforsaken place that has sake that's worth a damn,” Itachi explained calmly. He looked away. “It has… been a long week.” Obito could tell the truth in that statement just from his cousin’s voice. Itachi sounded exhausted, and the perpetual mask of indifference had begun to slip when his little brother went missing. The two of them looked at each other and came to an understanding. For the next few minutes, there was no talking. Obito grabbed some glasses and poured his strongest sake out for the both of them, and they drank in silence. They only actually picked up a conversation once they were both drunk enough for the awkwardness to melt away.

“He’s likely not dead,” Obito commented bluntly. Itachi only sighed.

“If he is, I have no idea what I'd do,” Itachi grumbled casually, like it was an ordinary thing to say. “Certainly wouldn't stick around here. Probably follow in Shisui’s footsteps.” Obito only nodded, knowing better than to pry on that particular bit of insight into Itachi’s life. They were silent for a few more minutes before Obito spoke again.

“The massacre,” Obito started. “I was long gone by the time it happened. What… are you and Sasuke really the only survivors as the rumors say?” Itachi nodded, throwing back another glass. Obito thought about that bitterly, about his grandmother who wouldn't have been spared. Itachi sighed.

“Right. I've never really talked about this with anyone, and Sasuke and I don't speak about it much. You know how sharingan awakening works, yes?” Obito nodded, mind involuntarily flashing to his own experience.

“Well I made some genuine friends on my genin team. It was the first time I ever had any friends.” Obito closed his eyes and took another sip. Friends, sharingan awakening. Being crushed under a boulder with your crying teammates looming over you. Thinking, no, don't cry, it doesn't hurt. It really doesn't hurt. I can't feel anything, please don't cry. Watching a particular white haired individual (a traitor, that traitor) desperately try to save you. Losing a part of yourself, a part of yourself you didn't even know you had, and giving it to someone else. Forever living with that, knowing that your other eye is somewhere, because you can still feel it, but not knowing much else. The aching absence that grows from that. He opened his eyes again. “I watched them die, right in front of my eyes. That awakened my Sharingan, and when I went home, my father congratulated me. He congratulated me. It was a nightmare and he was proud. I don't know, that always stuck with me. But anyway,” Itachi paused to drink more sake as the room spun. “Sasuke’s eyes woke during the massacre. I didn't get there in time. He watched our parents die, managed to hide in the closet and keep quiet the whole time so they didn't find him. I got there in time to stop them from killing him, and realized his sharingan had awakened because of everything. I wasn't able to save anyone, but I was able to save him, and that's all that matters.”

“I understand,” Obito replied evenly. “I know what it's like to be too late.”

Itachi’s eyes slid over to him. “Yeah well… whatever. The Uchiha had been planning a coup for a while. Danzo, he gave me a choice. Either kill everyone myself and have Sasuke be spared to live happily in the village. Or, to let them kill everyone, Sasuke included. I didn't… I refused either option and tried to get there but I was too late. They killed everyone in one night, a bunch of Anbu who were deployed for the massacre. Like I said, Sasuke managed to hide. I knew that Danzo would be after us, so I grabbed Sasuke and we got the hell out of dodge. He didn't speak for months afterwards. Not a single word, other than screaming during his nightmares. It was probably a little selfish, but I… I missed him. There was no more ‘Itachi, look at the score I got at the academy!’ or ‘Itachi look, look I learned a new move!’ There was just… nothing. He was so vacant. If he's dead- if he’s dead after everything we’ve been through, I don't- I have no idea what I'll do. We have to find him, and we have to kill the people who took him away from us. We have to.” I know, he wanted to shout. I know, I feel the same way, but I don't know why! Itachi left not long after that, stumbled back to his room, and Obito fell asleep in his armchair. That night he had a dream, a dream of Rin. it had been years since he dreamed of her, usually they were memories and bits and pieces, but this was different. He opened his eyes in his dream to a dark plane filled with ink, darkness stretching in every direction. It was a frequent setting he found himself in, usually the dream would be about him sinking into the oily substance until he couldn't breath. But this time it was low enough to wade in, his feet touching the ground, whatever that was. In the middle of the expanse, there was a bone white skeleton of some creature he didn't recognize, and Rin. He staggered towards her, and she hugged him without a word. In dreams like this he was always covered in blood, the Obito from years past. But now he was just him, and he was maskless.

“Just what have you gotten yourself into now, Obito?” she asked, and it sounded just like her. It wasn't her, he was fairly sure of that, he was dreaming for god’s sake, but it sounded like her. It seemed like her, and that was enough. “It's okay to be worried about the kid,” she said, running fingers through his hair while he tried to calm his breathing.

“It's not real,” he managed hoarsely. “None of it. Nothing in this world is real, I shouldn't feel anything. So why… Why do I…”

“Does it matter if it's real?” she asked. “It feels real. Maybe it is, Obito.”

“Obito is dead,” he whispered. “At least the one you knew- Obito doesn't exist anymore.” Rin only shook her head, looking past him at nothing at all and smiling sadly.

“I don't believe you,” she said evenly. “You're still Obito. No matter how many names you take or how many masks you wear, I know who you are. And I think you do too.”

“It's not real,” he tried again, weakly.

“If it's not real, then why do you help Konan with the dishes? If it's not real, then why do you want to save Itachi’s brother so badly? Why do you make plans for Nagato’s dream in the supposed next world when you don't have to? Why do you stick around Deidara to make sure he doesn't get killed? Why do you help Sasori with his puppets? Why, Obito?”

“I can't be Obito,” he muttered quietly. “He’s dead. He died with you.”

“He is right here. He is sitting here with me. You're still you. You'll always be you.”

“B-But…. But Madara-”

“Madara is dead,” she said with finality, shaking her head. “Madara is a dead man now. You are the only thing that can bring him back, and you have a choice.”

“I've never had a choice.”

“You do now. Madara isn't here.”

“This is all just an illusion.” She smiled sadly.

“I'm an illusion, Obito. Your world is not.”

His dream didn't fade out from there. One second he was sitting in a dark dreamscape with his dead friend, and the next he was in the Akatsuki lair, laying in an armchair, sitting up and gasping for breath. His back hurt and his neck was aching from the weird position he dozed off in, and Obito could already feel the nausea of an inevitable hangover coming on. Still, he sat up properly, stretching his neck and running a hand through his short hair. Itachi was probably passed out in his room or throwing up already, and Obito had a hunch that he’d be feeling the same way pretty soon. He looked down at the floor and forced his eyes to focus. He didn't have time for a drunken hallucination within a drunken hallucination. But when he turned his head, he felt himself recoil and raise his hands to his face. The orange plastic from the ground winked back at him. Obito had taken his mask off. And now it was cracked.

#yeahhhh #lol anyway #was this short?#maybe #Obito knew most of those details about the massacre #obito #obito uchiha #uchiha massacre #akatsuki #kisame #Sasuke Uchiha #itachi uchiha #uchiha itachi #naruto #naruto fanfiction #naruto fanfic #naruto au #unreality tw #madara uchiha

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bellfort3 · 4 years ago

Note

This is a vent fic i wrote ages ago. I don't have any plans for it, so I'm giving it to you. It's a gift. You can honestly do whatever you want with it. It's completely yours, add to it, read it, delete it, I don't mind. I think you might enjoy it and tbh i just want to be free of it. Its not published anywhere or anything. Uh tw for mildly implied suicidal thoughts.

Wilbur leaned back in his chair, taking a drag of the energy drink on his desk. He was streaming, and it had been nice and chill so far. Some QnA, some GeoGuesser and he'd promised to play a song for chat at the end.

"Thank you BXLBB for the 20," he exclaimed. "BXLBB" he repeated dramatically, and laughed. "Geez, put a vowel in your name dude. Do I plan on doing more chill streams? Yeah probably. We'll have to see how it goes, I'm not really going by too much of a schedule right now." He leaned forward. "Millie X, thank you for the 10. OK, so I think we-"

BRRRRNG!

Wilbur jumped violently in his chair, then giggled slightly. "Oh god that was my phone. I didn't"- he laughed again. "I wasn't expecting that chat, it made me jump. That's going to get clipped, isnt it. Jesus."

BRRRRING!

He looked at the phone screen. TommyInnit calling. Wait. Tommy calling? At 11pm, while Wilbur was streaming, AND on his phone? With no texts or discord messages first? That was concerning. It was probably just Tommy being an ass, but the anxious part of Wilburs brain said he had to be sure. Ugh, if he was pranking him, he would kill that child. Tommy would just messing around, in which case the moment he started talking, Wil would tell him he was streaming and immedietly hang up on him.

"Oh fuck, it's the FBI," he yelped. He had to play it of as a joke for chat. "They saw how good I am at Geoguesser and now they're all after me. Hold on chat, let me just take this and make sure everything's alright. I'll be right back."

He muted his mic and picked up the call.

"Hullo TommyInnit."

No response.

He turned his volume up. Maybe it had been too low.

If he really strained, he could hear a very faint noise.

Oh fuck.

His anxiety was starting to creep in now.

"Tommy?"

Silence again.

"Tommy, I can't hear you."

More silence.

And then there was a muffled choking noise, and a quiet broken voice said "Hey Will."

For a split-second, Wilbur wondered if someone else had got his number by mistake. He had never in his life heard Tommy sound like that. But it had to be him by the call screen.

"Tommy are you OK?" Thank God he didn't ignore the call, thank god he didn't ignore the call. "Whats going on?"

Another beat of awkward quiet.

"It's nothing," muttered Tommy. "I-I'm sorry for bothering you Wil."

Oh fuck it must be bad. This was the teen who had told him his mother was dying to get him on stream.

"Tommy tell me what's going on."

"I don't- honestly Wilbur it's, I mean- I just-" Tommy stammered. He breathed out slowly and shakily. His voice was getting more watery and unsteady, in a very un-Tommyinnit like way. "I can't- can't seem to do-." He exhaled again and then he blurted out "Wil I want to delete my channel."

"You want to delete your channel?" Wilbur was trying to keep his voice level, but he could hear a tiny bit of incredulity and panic spill through.

Tommy was getting more worked up now. "I'm going to delete it Wil, I'm going to."

"Woah, woah. Don't do anything you'll regret. Where are you?"

"In my room. At my desk."

"OK. Sit on your bed away from the PC. Are your parents home?"

"They've gone out." He could hear a soft SCHMF as Tommy threw himself on the bed.

"So what-why do you want to delete your channel, Tommy?" The question 'what happened?' was clear in his words.

"I hate it Will. I... I don't like, I mean- honestly Wilbur, everything that's on there is shit. What is the point of keeping it up?" Tommy sniffed.

"Tommy..."

"Don't sugarcoat it Wil, I know- I know- I see how things are, you know. And I know I let you down and" Tommy's voice broke. "I'm sorry-I'm sorry, I've fucking failed Wilbur, I've let everyone down, I shouldn't even- I didn't mean to fuck everything up like I have, I dissapointed you-" and then Tommy was really crying, with sobs muffled by his hands and the phone.

Wilbur was stunned. Truly stunned. This was not a prank. Tommy was not OK. Tommy wanted to destroy everything he had worked for. Tommy was crying.

"Tommy," he said softly. "You haven't dissapointed me. Why did you think that?"

"Cos' y'know I-" he sobbed. "You-you like believed, you thought I could do good with my channel and my streams, but it's-" he sobbed again. "All of its so shit, and- and I've thrown away all my chances and I've limited everything and I just think it would be-" Tommy couldn't get the rest out.

"Tommy, your videos are good. Maybe they're not all amazing, but you worked hard on all of them and they're all enjoyed by people." Wilbur was still reeling. "You don't hate all of them right?"

Tommy, save for crying, didn't reply.

"Right?"

No response.

"Tommy, trust me, you just don't see it now but I don't think your channel is as bad as you think. Did someone say something?"

"No!" Tommy cried, insistently. "No, no, you don't understand, this is just the way it is. Nobody told me, I came to this realisation myself."

"But," Wilbur started. "This realisation of yours is total nonsense Tommy."

Tommy sniffled.

"I don't know. I'm sorry Will."

"Are you doing OK? Is everything alright at school and home?"

"It's fine. Its... Fine."

"You don't think you're, you know, going through something? Are you depressed?" As Wilbur said this a realisation of his own hit him- he was still streaming. Chat was going crazy. He typed in chat: "everything is OK, but I have to end stream now. Sorry everybody. Go send Niki some love." Then he pressed the raid button. And watched the viewers drop.

"Wil I'm not-I don't know," Tommy said. "It would just be easier-well, better for everyone if it was gone. If I was y'know."

'End Stream.' Click. Hopefully the Internet wasn't too rabid. Then Tommy's words caught up with his brain. "Wait, Tommy you don't mean that," he said. "Thats really concerning Tommy. What about Dream and Techno and Tubbo and Schlatt? All these people you-"

"No!" Tommy screamed, immedietly distressed. "No, no, no, no, they don't, I can't-"

"Tommy, Tommy, calm down. It's OK." Tommys breathing filled the space.

"I'm getting Phil."

"No, please don't get Phil, please Wilbur I'm sorry, please Will-" Tommy spluttered frantically.

Wilbur typed a message to Phil with rapid speed, explaining what had happened.

Phil called immedietly, and Wil muted his phone.

"Will, what the fuck is happening? I saw you ended stream early. And you say Tommy's-." Phil was silent for a second. "Oh. Is he OK?"

"I have him on the phone, Phil, please talk to him."

Wilbur unmuted his phone.

"Hiya mate," Phil said softly.

Tommy quietly replied "Hi Phil."

//TW FOR SUICIDAL THOUGHTS//

Anon what the actual fuck. I just read this while sitting in ap world and I’m literally like stunned. Anon how-anon-I-

This is rlly rlly rlly good. Like rlly good. It actually made me feel like I was there like I was Wilbur what the fuck this lowkey wrecked me what

Anon I know you have gifted this to me but please. I think it’s amazing and that you should continue with it if you want to. It’s very good.

Please come back and talk to me!! I’m invested in this now

#/gen #plz anon #bellfort answers writing #bellfort is broken now #wtf #bellfort answers eventually

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yadds · 4 years ago

Text

Heyyyy so guess who’s not dead! Anyway, for anyone that’s interested, I’ve decided that I’m not posting ongoing works until I’m done with them then will post as I’m editing. Sorry! However, I do have an excerpt that I like a bit that can stand alone, so here it is! Also, despite the sexual nature of the initial conversation, this is pre-starker and isn’t really much about sex.

Minor background info: Tony has come back from the dead and is still with Pepper but they’re having issues. Meanwhile, the Starker bromance is developing and they hang out quite a bit.

____________________________________________________________________

“Spit or swallow?” Peter asked out of the blue as they sat on the couch watching reality tv.

Tony’s eyebrows were about to climb right into his hairline. “Excuse me?”

“Spit or swallow?” he repeated, over enunciating. “What are your thoughts?”

“Just to be clear, we’re talking about…” Tony trailed off slowly.

“You know, bjs. Blowies. I’m sure you’ve gotten one once or twice,” Peter said with a roll of his eyes, tossing several pieces of popcorn into his mouth.

“Yeah, might have happened on a rare occasion,” Tony responded dryly. “Well, honestly I can take it or leave it on the receiving end, doesn’t make that much of a difference to me.”

Peter’s head tilted back and forth, considering, before shrugging.

“When giving though, I generally don’t like either. Don’t get me wrong, I love going down on people and making them feel good, but I prefer if they don’t finish in my mouth. Obviously I’ve done it before and may very well do it again so I guess I’d probably say swallow? It’s already there, so why make a mess?”

Peter’s attention was now fully on Tony, the TV forgotten in the background. Tony glanced over and smiled wryly when he saw his gaping mouth and red cheeks. “What’s with the stunned mullet impression? Did you not literally just ask that question? Am I going senile already?”

Peter cleared his throat and turned back to face the tv again. “Uh, yeah, I uh I did ask. But I was thinking more on the receiving end - I wasn’t expecting you to talk about giving.”

One of Tony’s brows crept back up. “Oh? And why is that? Because you think I’m a selfish asshole in bed as well or because you think I’m shy?”

Peter shook his head quickly, not catching the amused tilt of Tony’s lips. “No, no of course not! I just didn’t know that you, uh, you know, partake, in partners of the, uh, male persuasion?” If Peter shoveled any more popcorn into his mouth after the desperate handful he just shoved in there, he was going to suffocate.

“Huh,” Tony said thoughtfully. Had they really never talked about this before? “Well, weird phrasing aside (because that was weird, kid, what’s up with that?), I thought it was pretty common knowledge that I was bisexual.”

Peter shook his head again, glancing back Tony’s way. “Nope, definitely not. At least not in any of the articles or interviews online. I mean, yeah, there are a few sources that mention the possibility of you not being completely straight, but they all sound like speculation.”

Tony was speechless for a minute. He watched Peter notice the extended silence and seem to realize what he just said, curling forward and burying his face in his hands, ears bright red.

He finally gathered enough wits to say, “Well, then I guess it was just common knowledge among people who actually know me. SI probably paid off the men I slept with - because heaven forbid the infamous playboy figurehead be seen with a man back in the day. I honestly never paid attention to what exactly was in the press, just made sure I was in it. If I’d known, I definitely would have been more blatantly obvious.”

He was quiet again for about five seconds before he pulled his leg up on the couch and fully turned towards Peter. “I’m sorry, I tried, but I can’t just let this go. I knew you were a big fan, but sounds like you’ve really done your research, Pete.” He couldn’t drop the shit-eating grin on his face.

Peter flopped all the way forward, shoving his face into his knees, groaning. “Can we not do this?” he whined. It only took another ten seconds of pointed silence before Peter broke. “Ugh, okay, so I may have had a crush on you when I was younger,” he admitted. “A teeny tiny, definitely not life-consuming, crush.”

Tony laughed. “And when was this?”

“I don’t know, it started when I was like 13 probably.”

“And you thought you should google my sexuality to see if, what, you had a chance with the guy four times your age that you’d never meet?” Tony didn’t think he’d been this amused in a long time.

Peter sat back up and peeked at him just to throw him a glare. “Yes, because thirteen year olds are so logical, especially when it comes to hormonal urges.”

“Never would have pegged you for being into older men.”

“Really? Because most people aren’t surprised - I apparently just radiate ‘twink with a daddy kink’,” Peter said matter-of-factly.

Tony choked, coughing loudly. “I’m sorry, did you just, in a roundabout way, call me a Daddy? In a way that has nothing to do with my daughter?”

“I- can we talk about something else now?” Peter squeaked.

“That...is probably a good idea,” Tony agreed, feeling his own cheeks heat.

They both stared very intently at the TV, trying to think of anything else.

After a while, Peter spoke up. “Why would you do it again?”

“What?” Tony asked, confused.

“Sorry, I’m back on the spit or swallow question,” Peter explained.

Now it was Tony’s turn to groan. “I thought we were talking about something else.”

“Yeah, something that’s not my personal and very embarrassing past. Now that I have the question, I can’t think of anything else.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Fine. So why would I do what again, exactly? Give a blow job?”

“Well, I mean, that too, considering that you’re still with Pepper and I’m 99.9999% sure she doesn’t have the right equipment for that. But I was talking about spitting or swallowing. Why would you do either? You said you don’t like it.”

“Relationships are about compromise Pete, even in the bedroom. And I don’t hate it when I’m in the mood for it.”

“What a ringing endorsement,” Peter said flatly. “Yeah, there’s gotta be some compromise, but that should be more along the lines of maybe trying new things that you may not have done on your own but are open to. Doing something you definitively, straight up don’t like in bed should not be one of them.”

Tony looked at Peter, perplexed. “I...don’t even know what to say to that. When did you become an expert in this?”

Peter shrugged. “You’d be surprised how much of my time as Spiderman is spent just lending an ear when people are having a hard time. And sex and relationships come up a lot because I guess it’s easier to talk to a random person in a mask than to someone you know. I try to just listen and not to give advice most of the time, since I’m not an expert and everyone’s situation is different, but sometimes people are in circumstances that are dangerous, emotionally and mentally. So I took a couple relationship health and psychology classes my freshman year in college and read up on some of these things to know what to say.”

Tony’s heart warmed, hearing how earnestly Peter wanted to help people. He smiled softly. “Never thought you’d use that on Tony Stark, did you?” he joked.

Peter scoffed. “Please, you were like, the poster child for a lot of these issues. I like to think you’ve finally gotten wiser in your ‘old age’, but I’ve mentally given you several high-handed pep talks.”

Tony was taken aback. “Oh? And what was the subject of these pep talks?”

“Mostly self-worth and your complete lack of it.”

Tony chuckled again. “Well maybe you haven’t heard, but I actually have an unrealistically high opinion of myself, kid.”

“Yeah, do you think that if you keep talking about it loudly enough, you might start believing it?” Peter asked, eyebrow raised.

“Excuse me? I am one of the richest, smartest people on the damn planet. I single-handedly created a superhero while a prisoner in a cave. I created clean energy that can power the planet and I’m pretty sure I’m damn close to being able to end poverty,” Tony rebuked, getting irritated.

“I know, so why do you still feel like it’s not enough?” Peter asked with a shrug, pointedly not looking at him. “All those amazing accomplishments, things no one else would be able to do, but how often do you think about that instead of the few mistakes you’ve made?”

Tony crossed his arms. “Get out of my fucking head, kid,” he grunted.

Peter turned to him with a grin. “You think I should change my degree plan and become a shrink?”

“Definitely not. You’re pretty much done anyway and I need you in my labs, not consoling lunatics like me.”

Peter reeled back exaggeratedly. “You’re quite presumptuous, Mr. Stark, assuming I’ll be working for you.”

“You’d better,” Tony insisted.

“Is that a threat?” Peter asked cheekily.

“Definitely.”

Laughing, Peter settled back into the cushions and resumed his popcorn eating.

After several minutes of watching TV in silence, Peter turned back to Tony. “You know I still think you’re just as amazing as you try to say you are, right?”

Glancing at Peter out of the corner of his eye, he shook his head at Peter’s earnest expression. “No clue why,” he said wryly. “But yeah, I know. Thanks, kid,” Tony said, smile soft as his hand came up to grip the back of Peter’s neck before pulling him into a hug.

Tony cleared his throat and sat back before saying gruffly, “Now shut up and watch...whatever the hell it is you’re making me watch.”

Peter snorted but kept his mouth shut. And as he settled more comfortably under Tony’s arm, his back pressed up against Tony’s side as Tony’s arm draped across Peter’s chest, Tony had to wonder if this is one of the things Pepper had been talking about.

But as he felt the warmth of Peter pressed against him, felt the soft rise and fall of his breathing, felt the proof that Peter was alive and safe, Tony shook away the thought.

_____________________________________________________________________

So I’m starting to see a pattern - I tend to write like hell during the fall and winter and not during the summer at all. So apparently I have an off-season lol. Hopefully the pattern continues for the next few months and I can get a few projects finished!

#starker #pre-starker #starker endgame #fic #ficlet #yadds writes #idek #im so out of practice tagging #and i just don't care right now

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