#maybe we should cut off interests for a while - it could fix hims stuff.

[watch-out-it-bites]

I believe I deserve a sweet little treat [He has done nothing important for the past week]

[uhohdad]

EXPERIMENTAL - Konig Fic Pt 3

Summary: Konig helps Researcher!Reader with a new technology they’ve been developing.

Warnings: Sexual Content, NSFW, bondage, DOM!Konig, size kink, light spanking, unprotected sex, possessive!konig, praise kink, the mask stays on 😈, Reader x Konig, injury, needle torture, PTSD, talk of standard war stuff, Non-con Voyeurism. No use of y/n,

Reader gender/sex is incomprehensible cause I do it for the girls, the gays, and the theys

Word Count: 10,2k

(tbh you probably don’t need to read the first two parts so if you just wanna read this slutty chapter it should be fine lol but if you do i’ll link them)

AO3

PART ONE

PART TWO

NSFW under the cut

You’re praying that he’s getting this.

There’s a million things that could go wrong - Konig not being near his device and you’re just streaming into an empty room. Or Ghost’s device wasn’t the one that was synced with Konig’s, maybe one of the matching copies or an earlier prototype. Or worse - Konig found out about the video and leaves you to your demise as he rightfully should.

You swallow as you watch Mohawk put the his phone away in his pocket, hoping his screen wasn’t exposed to the feed’s camera, “Thanks for making me have that on my phone, by the way. Do you know how many times I was forced to watch this?”

Stop talking about it!

“What else do you want to know?” You’re more willing to give out top-secret government intel than let Konig find about that fucking video.

Ghost senses you’ve been holding back on him, and he tilts his head down to look at you from above the projection, “What’s it do?”

“Everything.” You answer, “Anything I tell it to. It’s like VR.” There’s a bit of a slur to your words. You’re still aware enough to manage the long-con, but your eyelids are getting heavier. Just have to hold out awhile longer, juggle a few things at the same time. Don’t let Konig find out about how you ended up here, but make sure he knows you’re here. Don’t let skull boy and stupid-haircut find about the transmission, but don’t let them lose enough interest to turn the device off. Don’t give away too many government secrets, but don’t give out too little to keep the soldiers from doing anymore permanent damage to your brain.

And manage all of that while coping with the current level of brain damage you have.

They look at each other, trying to figure out if they’re satisfied with your answer.

That’s good. Just keep stalling.

Everything was threatening to crash down around you, but there’s a glimmer of hope so minuscule, you think you could actually pull it off if all the pieces fall together.

You’re no longer giving up.

We can fix this. Fix all of it. Fix your mess.

You’re going to give it a fair shot, you decide, and you’ll leave it up to the universe.

Ghost cocks his head, those intimidating eyes boring into you, “And what things do you tell it to do?” You can tell he’s irritated with the meaningless answer. You steer in the opposite direction.

You give a drawn out hum, “Identify the bad guys. Heat map, heart beats ‘n all that.” You’re trying to keep your thoughts together, but there’s too many to keep up with, and the concussion still has you in its hazy clutches.

Another idea, a back up plan, you’ll call it. You can’t tell if it’s a stupid idea or not, but you’re slipping and fast, “Can I get a smoke? I’m feening.” You give a smile, the residual of the painkillers making it easy to appear unassuming.

“No. What else does it do?” Ghost is straight to the point, and it reminds you of Konig, and you wish Ghost would stop doing that because you’re trying to do something here.

Another drunken hum, “What’d’ya want it to do? I can do it.” You wave your hand at him, casually flashing your restraints so Konig would get a clear view.

Ghost steps towards you and grabs the front of your gown, yanking your face inches from his, “What does it fucking do?”

A proud smile crosses your face, “Not your mom, ‘cause I got that covered myself.”

Mohawk puts a hand of warning on Ghost’s shoulder, reminding him not to get too violent with you.

Ghost ignores the warning, his fist connecting with your temple before you had a chance to brace yourself.

Skull boy packs quite a punch.

You’re reset for a moment, blinded by a bright white and the ring in your ears makes a blaring encore.

You can tell by the warm and wet feeling under your bandages that the gash from Ghost’s gun had split open.

You don’t know how long it takes you to get your bearings, but once you do you’re almost thankful Ghost had rocked you.

You’re hoping Konig can see the urgency of the situation and your injured brain being rattled around your skull gives you an excuse to lie motionless, hindering interrogation. They know you’re not useful to them when you incapable of coherency. It’s why Stupid-Haircut is trying so hard to keep Ghost from injuring you to bad. It’s why they went through the trouble of nursing an enemy back to health. If Ghost turns your brain to soup like you’re so clearly provoking him to do, you won’t be able to tell them what they want to know.

Okay, painful change of plans.

Instead of forcing yourself to stay clear enough to manage all the details through the fog of the concussion, you’re going to force yourself into ignorance by weaponizing Ghost’s temperament against him. It’s in their best interest to keep you cognizant, and it’s in your best interest to get Ghost irritated enough to torture you until you’re unable to speak.

It’s going to be brutal, but you’ve been feeling nothing but pain at the hands of him, and you don’t think you’re far off from the cozy clutches of unconsciousness as it is - that it won’t be long until you’re unable to feel anything.

Always the masochist.

You can’t help but smile, even though it all. A genuine one, toothy and face-wrinkling, one that wasn’t for anyone else in the room, but didn’t care if they saw. It wasn’t a desperate attempt to relieve your discomfort. Not a waste of your precious energy lulling strangers into their sense of comfort. Not a weak effort to influence the opinion of you belonging to whoever happens to be in your vicinity.

You feel like you’re watching yourself descend into madness, powerless against the euphoric feeling that floods through you. Warmth coasting through your veins. You could tell it wasn’t the drugs, the concussion and the growing list of other injuries, or even the idea Konig may be rushing to your rescue any minute now.

It was because in this moment, despite everything that has happened, you can’t help but be enamored with yourself.

You?

Of course. Of course it took these conditions to pull it out of you.

It’s always the hard way with you, wasn’t it?

“If you can’t restrain yourself maybe you should let me handle it.”

“Back down, Johnny.” Ghost warns in that low, cautionary tone that can’t help leave the receiver wondering just what horrible punishment would occur if they pushed. He doesn’t even have to look at Johnny to hammer the intimidation into him. It’s only accompanied by a low extend of arm vaguely in his direction.

Neither you or Ghost noticed the way Johnny’s eye twitched or lip snarled, but he heeds Ghost’s warning.

Ghost’s eyes lock on you, and you think everyone in the room has caught on to the predicament they’re in.

Johnny, who’s been up to speed since the start, walking the tightrope of being respectful to his superior without letting him damage the value of his informant.

Ghost, who’s long lost his respect for you before he even laid eyes on you, and since meeting you has only been sinking deeper into his hatred of you. He’s used to getting information from soldiers. Out of powerful individuals that could handle a hit and that stay conscious during an interrogation session. The ones smart enough not to antagonize and beg for the brutality. Ones that grit their teeth an at least try and suck it up to maintain a scrap of dignity. Not you. He knows he needs your brain but he’d be happy to put an end to all of it, right now. Pull the plug on your project the manual way. If they can’t have it, no one can. Maybe he’d get what he wants along the way if you’re coherent enough to squeak it out, but that’d just be a bonus in his eyes.

And you. Wonderfully brilliant, even if occasionally misguided, and as much as you hate to believe it sometimes, incredibly lovable, even if Ghost is looking at you like he wants to put your head on a stick. But you don’t care about that dummy. No, you’re not even looking at him or his Johnny. Even if he takes your life from you right now, you think you could accept that. Not for any necessarily suicidal reasons, even though the concussion has definitely knocked some dark feelings loose.

You close your eyes, and the smile still hasn’t left your face, even if your sore muscles were pulling on the edges of your headache.

“Too much morphine.” Ghost says, to no one in particular, not hesitating as he forcefully grabs your forearm and digs his thumb into the skin encasing your IV needle.

You immediately hiss through gritted teeth, but he doesn’t hesitate as he takes the beginning of the needle with his other hand, roughly poking around in your arm.

You try to pull away but he’s got a grip tight enough to force your arm extended. You’re sure his fingertips will leave bruises.

He removes the needle entirely before puncturing you in a different spot on your inner elbow, shaking the needle violently beneath your flesh. You gasp, pulling against his iron grip with what little strength you have.

“Where’d your smile go?” Ghost asks in a neutral tone, his eyes dead of emotion as he removes the needle before stabbing another hole in your arm.

You let out a yelp, eyes screwed shut as your other hand jerks against the restraints. You’re too focused on the sickening feeling of skewered veins to make up a good comeback.

He does it again, and your fists clench and a high grunt escapes through gritted teeth.

“I’ve always wanted to learn how to set an IV.” Ghost says dryly, his eyes cold behind the mask as he thrashes the needle.

“Keep practicing.” You hiss, pitch warbling through the pain.

And he does.

It’s brutal, Ghost flaying the crease of your arm repeatedly. It’s been less than a minute but you’re sure the torture started a lifetime ago. You just have to take it, it’s all you can do. Your verbal stalling wasn’t cutting it, so you’re just going to have to opt for this instead and hope you can piss him off enough to get just a little too violent with you.

When he’s done, he jams the needle back where it was, managing to lay it back in your vein. “There we go.”

You study each other for a brief moment, before he leans in close, so close his projection becomes obscured through your head. You’re eye to eye now, nothing between you two but the mask your nose is almost brushing up against.

He grabs your face, his gloved fingers digging into your jaw with the same force he had held your forearm. He holds your head still and all you can do is look at him, brows pinched in fury as your nails dig into your palms, fists fight the restraints.

His eyes twitch as they flicker between each of yours.

“I am going to ruin you.”

You shake your head in an attempt to free your jaw from his clutches, but his grip is strong and he makes a point of forcing your head still, looking down his mask at you.

“You can give me all the information you like. I’m not stopping until it’s finished.”

Ghost finally lets you go with a rough shove. He takes the device from his ear and his wrist, discarding them both over his shoulder. Johnny catches the ear piece with a slight fumble, and the wrist remote hits the ground with a ting, rattling obnoxiously as it rolls to a stop. Johnny’s got his hands full as he yells but you you don’t bother listening to what he’s saying.

You’re too busy relaxing into the attack as you let Ghost carry you to death’s door.

———————————————————-

Even wincing is painful.

You're finally stirred awake by the feeling of a gloved hand on the back of your neck.

It’s hard to open your eyes, and when you finally do you see him, from the chest up, he looks just like a just a blurry figure. Two of them, actually, doubled vision multiplying the lone man that stood before you.

Even with your damaged vision you can tell it’s Konig, making out the telling shapes of his gear and those biceps you’ve studied so close you could pick them out of a lineup.

The hood that always intimidated you, but now fills you with a comfort like no other. You can see the light of your projection shielding his eyes.

A blinding bright light surrounds him, haloing your vision and it hurts, but you can help but keep your weary gaze fixed on him inbetween slow blinks.

You’re sure you’re dead. That you’re passing over and this is your brain manifesting some hallucination to comfort you as you transition.

You reach out to touch his hood, just to see if you can. You wanted to see if you could feel him, the researcher in you testing the potentials of your delusions. The restraints cut you short for a final time, before Konig quickly cuts your hands free with a knife. He takes your weak extended hand in his and you can feel it.

It engulfs yours, the scratchy feel of his glove wrapped around your hand, and he feels real.

His other hand retracts from your neck and reaches up to turn his projection off to get a clearer look at you. His hand comes back from under his hood and moves carefully to the side of your face, his thumb tracing a bruise on your cheek. His can’t believe what he’s seeing, his eyes darting around to the various injuries plastered on you.

“Meine liebe…”

He says, and you’re not sure if he’s speaking a different language or if your Ghost gave you dyphasia.

“Who did this?” He asks, horrified as he realizes there’s anyone out there cruel enough to do this to you.

You thought his stares were scary before, but the way his eyes glaze and turn cold as they follow the swells and bruises marking your face appears animalistic. It shoots a feeling in your gut so unnerving it confirms that you’re definitely not experiencing some euphoric deathbed hallucination.

When you don’t answer, your eyes just flicking around his features as you adjust, he asks again.

“Who did this?!”

His voice strikes an urgent and menacing tone the second time. On your recording he had been able to see Ghost’s point of view, but not Ghost. A front row seat to watch you get brutally attacked but not being able to identify the aggressor himself.

Always determined.

You reach up with your other hand to your saving grace, and place it on his upper arm, “Don’t leave.”

He hears how delicate your voice is, how you barely have the power to speak. How your hand quivered as you reached out to him, how you had squeezed his arm with what little might you had to encourage him to stay, to join you in a world where your aggressors and injuries didn’t matter, none of it mattered.

And how can he say no to you?

His eyes soften again and you can’t help but smile at the man behind the hood. You’re smile immediately turns to a wince as it forces an uncomfortable tug on your fresh injuries.

“Come here.” He says softly and he picks you out of the hospital bed with little effort. He’s got one arm secured around your back and the other is under the crease of your knees like he’s carrying you from the alter. He tilts you gently so your head can rest on his chest while he carries you to safety.

You’re wondering if you really are dead after all. It’s too good to be true, your plan working and Konig carrying you from the danger like he’s a fireman rescuing you from a burning building. You can discern the capabilities of his muscles as he holds you tight. You’re not even slowing him down, he’s still able to hurry through the hallways, guided to the exit by your device without fault.

The jostling hurts, but he’s doing his best to hold you steady, and being in his arms, resting the less injured side of your forehead against him, makes the pain all worth it.

You can hear the sounds of gunshots in the distance, not even your impaired hearing could muffle the loud pops. They must have had a full team come out to do an extraction. You thought it was a lot of to-do for little ol’ you.

Konig gets you to nearest exit, carefully managing the door as he opens it to ensure it didn’t hit you, and carries you out to the getaway vehicle, setting you down across the backseat like you’re made of glass.

“Liebe, they need me.” He looks back to the building, “Can you stay here?”

You give a weak nod, and he gives your hand a squeeze.

“I’ll be back, I promise.”

And you have his word.

He rushes back into the building while you try and rest in the backseat.

————————————-

The safe house was incredibly depressing. A rundown little two-room shack in the country, decorated with outdated appliances and furniture. The wall paper is peeling from the ceiling and you’re not sure if it was originally a drab yellow or if it had been stained from years of abuse. You can tell no one’s been around to take care of the water damage, judging from the large brown stains spotting the ceiling. There’s a kitchenette in the corner with an oven, a fridge that hums too loudly, and a microwave that appears never to have been cleaned. A worn beige couch outfitted with two dusty orange cushions that sag with age. A few generic paintings on the wall that hardly comfort you. No internet and no cell service, but there is a small box-shaped TV that you’re sure is from the 50s, the picture warped and cloudy.

Base placed you here temporarily until you relocate, your apartment now too dangerous to live in as your address was in enemy hands.

Judging by the way your supervisor spoke to you when discussing the transition, they must be in the dark on what caused the breach.

Your secret is safe for now, but there’s no telling when it’s going to get discovered. Waiting for the truth to come out has left a weight in your chest that sticks around from the moment you wake up to the moment you fall asleep.

They had assigned you a counselor to visit you and help process the trauma of the event, but you don’t trust them enough to give them the full truth. You just tell them about the violence Ghost inflicted, walking through the nightmares that result from it. You haven’t gotten a goodnight’s rest since it all went down, often waking up in the middle of the night kicking and screaming at the vivid night terrors of Ghost at the side of your bed.

Other than your counselor, the base associate that brings grocery to restock the noisy fridge on Thursdays, and the occasional check-up from your supervisor, you’ve been totally isolated from the outside world.

You don’t care about most.

Just Konig.

He had held you in his arms and carried you to safety at the risk of his own life. You knew you didn’t deserve it after what you did, but you can’t help but daydream.

Thinking about the way it felt to have your head on his chest, the cotton of his mask brushing your bruised cheek, his arms grasping you tight - protecting you - it definitely helps distract from the uncomfortable feeling lingering by your heart.

You wondered if he knew, if he had seen himself on Johnny’s copy of the recording, but still was kind enough to do such a favor for you.

Then you really wouldn’t deserve him.

You spend all your time thinking about Konig, bouncing between the depth of your guilt and the highs of the fantasy, just as you have been since you met him.

When he visits for the first time, it nearly triggered a panic attack. You had not been expecting visitors, and you were still haunted by the precious unexpected visitors you had. You’re delightfully surprised when you peek out the window and see Konig, looking nervously at the landscape behind him when you don’t answer right away. Your eyebrows spring up in shock and you let out a verbal exclamation at the sight.

You quickly run your fingers through your hair as a last ditch effort to appear somewhat put together before opening the door, forced to tilt your head back to look at him. His eyes widen at the sight of you, and he moves, almost like he’s about to step closer but stops himself.

You force yourself to contain your excitement at his visit, “Konig, It’s good to see you.” You look down at your clothes, still donned in loungewear, “Sorry about the jammies. Come in.” You open the door for him so he can step in before shutting the door behind him. He takes a few steps into the room before stilling, taking a moment to look around.

“Sorry for stopping by unannounced.” He says, followed by a clearing his throat. His eyes linger on the old beige couch before meeting your eyes again. “I‘ve been worried about you.”

You knew you were unreachable, he couldn’t have gotten in contact any other way, “Don’t apologize, you really have no idea how good it is to see you. I’ve been thinking about how to say thank you, for what you did, but I’m not sure there’s enough words between our languages to cover it.” You put your hand to back of your neck, looking to the floor for a moment before meeting his gaze again. You give a nervous laugh, “So I guess I owe you a bottle of wine, huh?”

You can tell he smiles under the mask by the way his eyes crinkle, “Just doing my job.”

You glance down at the arms that had held you so tight and wished they were wrapped around you again.

“Thank you, Konig. Really. I owe you my life.”

“It was my pleasure.” He says as he gives his head a little shake. His gaze shifts a bit higher, “You’re healing nicely.”

You touch a hand to the gash Ghost had left from his gun. You were most likely going to have a scar, but it had closed and the swelling had gone down significantly, the previous inflamed red now a medium pink. “Ah, well thanks for noticing. You know I made those skin cells myself?”

Huh?!

He tilts his head, “That’s good, I hear store-bought isn’t what it used to be.”

You giggle and roll on your heels a bit, not necessarily at the joke but at the fact that such a normally rigid and imitating man is now being cheeky with you, and it feels so nice to break the tension a bit.

“How are you holding up?” He says, and it reminds of the way your therapist inquires, with that gentle tone that clearly eludes to the incident without directly referring to the incident.

“Uh,” You trail off a bit, touching the nasty bruise on your inner arm, large from the spread of the internal bleeding, but now faded to a healing yellow. “Y’know? It’s actually been,” You let out another nervous laugh, “awful, actually. But that’s alright. Uhm, I think it’ll get easier with time.”

He nods and his eyes dart down to the bruise you’ve been mindlessly tracing with your finger. Something dark flickers behind his eyes but quickly subsides.

“If it’s worth anything, it does.”

You give him a weak smile and you have no way to confirm but you think he does the same.

A silence falls on you both for awhile, both of you picking a random point in the room to unfocus your vision on. The silence doesn’t feel awkward, more like you both were grieving for a minute - or maybe just lost in thought. Even if neither knew what to say to the other, you were still bonding over your traumatic experiences in your own quiet way.

You’re the one who breaks the silence, your voice a bit cracked from your dry throat, “What do you do about the nightmares?”

His eyes leave you for a moment as he considers it. “I leave a book by my nightstand. For some it’s TV, others crossword puzzles. There’s no stopping it. You just have to find what calms you down after.”

You give a nod. You knew there wouldn’t be a magic cure but you still have to take a moment to process that you’ll have to be dealing with it for the foreseeable future.

There’s a long pause before he speaks again, “You dream of him?”

You swallow again, trying to make it easier for you to speak but bail, instead slowly nodding your head.

Another silence falls over you both. A longer, more drawn out one. You both get lost in thought for awhile.

When you interrupt the silence again, the words spill out of you fast, coming out in a jumble and before you can stop yourself. He had that effect on you, making you feel so vulnerable and exposed, ready to spill your guts. Deep down you knew that it’s time to rip the bandaid off. Free yourself from the guilt and the constant fear your world is going to come crashing down around you.

“Do you know what I did?”

He studies you, tilting his head, “What do you mean? About your SOS?”

His response tells you that he truly doesn’t know. If he knew what you did, he’d have known exactly what you’d meant. Regardless, you still make a futile attempt to jog his memory, hoping you won’t have to explain yourself, “How I ended up there? What caused the breach?”

His eyes squint in confusion, “I was told we didn’t know how they received your information.”

Your head tilts down in shame, and you have to look away from him.

You take a deep breath and rest your palms flat on your thighs.

“Okay, look, I’ve done something horrible. I have not been very good to you, and… that sucks! Because I really thought we could have been,” You hesitate for a moment, “friends.” You close your eyes and take another breath, “At first I thought I could keep it a secret from you, even if I believe you have every right to know, but the truth is I just can’t handle the guilt anymore. I’m exhausted waiting for the other shoe to drop, okay?”

Konig’s whole body is tense now, standing at attention as he waits for your words. You’re worrying him.

“The day we met,” You’re choking up now, the adrenaline coursing through you, causing you to shake and perspire, mouth dry, “After our day in the shoot house, I forgot to disconnect your feed.”

Your tone shifts from serious to a bit desperate, “It was an accident, I swear, Konig.” You look at him, pleading eyes begging him to believe you, “And I should have just disconnected the feed when I found it, I know,” You’re getting exasperated, “But I’m sick and curious and to be honest I just couldn’t help myself when I saw you.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his spot, and swallows hard. He knows what you mean, but he has to confirm it with you to believe it, “What did you see?”

You look away from him and to the floor. It takes you a moment to work up the courage, “I saw you getting off.” You say it so quietly, ashamed to admit it.

“I shouldn’t have watched Konig, I shouldn’t have. It was wrong and I know it doesn’t mean anything now but I truly am sorry. But I did watch and I heard my name and I’ve been wracked with guilt ever since.“

He stands still, his breathing escalating slightly. He doesn’t say anything and the silence drapes over you both for awhile.

This silence was definitely awkward.

His eyes tell you nothing and his expression is masked by the hood.

You swallow, knowing you owe him the full truth as you force yourself to continue. If he’s already disgusted with you under that hood, this will really put you over the edge.

Your fist clenches, “In a moment of pure stupidity, I kept the video.” You break eye contact for a brief moment before returning your gaze to him. “I sent it to myself.”

“Okay?” You spit, angry at yourself, “I kept it and I’ve watched it so many times because I am just addicted to the way you moan my name, Konig. I’m sorry. I heard it and I needed more. It made me feel so good, and so so terrible at the same time.”

You’re on a roll now, rambling like you’re talking about your research.

“And I have not been able to stop thinking about you!” You laugh a bit, “And I understand how serious this is. So if you want to go straight to head of command and have me discharged, I won’t hold it against you. In fact, if you don’t even feel like filing the report, I’ll pack up my things and leave now, and you won’t hear from me ever again.”

You pause, and he doesn’t fill the silence, so you keep going, the words coming out like vomit, “But there’s something else you deserve to know. When I sent the video to my phone - for personal reasons only, okay?! I was not planning on showing anyone, if that helps. When I sent the video, it opened a vulnerable point of entry for TF-141 to hack in. They… have your video. I’m so sorry, it was a major lapse of judgement, and I overlooked so many protocols, and I put our intel at risk. I put your private moment at risk. I put us all at risk. I-“

You cut yourself off, tears starting to well in your eyes. It was relieving to get it off your chest, but you knew what was about to happen. You knew you were lighting a fuse with one hand and holding dynamite with another.

“I’m so sorry, Konig.”

The tears start flowing and you’re powerless to stop them. You hoped it wasn’t coming off as a desperate attempt to gain sympathy.

For awhile you stand there, eyes fixed at the floor as you wait for his response.

Konig hasn’t moved, hasn’t said anything, just stands in his spot, staring.

When you finally look at him, eyes full of heartbreak, he maintains eye contact for a few moments, expression unreadable.

After a moments to process, he uncrosses his arms to dig into his pocket, pulling out the device you had given him on that very first day. His boots slowly cross the linoleum floor and he gently sets your device on the dinky table behind you before removing the wristband and setting it down next to the earpiece without making a sound.

He doesn’t even look back at you before he turns his back and walking out the safe house door, shutting it with a soft click.

——————————————————————

It’s been three days since Konig left you alone in the safe house.

You’re wondering if you should cut your losses and leave. Change your name & get started with a new life.

You’ve already preemptively packed up your things to make it less painful on yourself when your supervisor comes to kick you to the curb.

Even as your life is dissolved and scattered to the wind, you actually feel a lot better than you have in months. Almost like the worrying was worse than the actual consequences. At least now you can live honestly.

Nonetheless, it was still pretty painful. Your latest infatuation finding out how you so deeply betrayed them. Watching him walk out on you had left you sobbing face down in the dusty orange couch pillows to muffle your cries.

It’s late at night on that third day, and you had managed to find some respite with a surprisingly warm shower and losing yourself in blurry reruns of a game show when you hear the light ting of metals.

At first you think it’s the ringing in your ears returning, it had been on and off ever since Ghost concussed you, but you quickly realized by the uneven rattles it had been coming from within the safe house.

Your eyes scan the room after switching the TV off, first starting with the fridge that hums too loud, but quickly dart your attention over to the movement of the safe house’s doorknob jiggling.

Not again.

You try and suppress the flashbacks enough to find somewhere to hide, but the safe house is one big open room with a small obscured bedroom that was more bed than room, and you don’t think the bed is high enough off the floor to crawl under.

So instead you freeze on the dingy couch, your heartbeat deafening in your ears as you watch your doorknob wiggle in its loose hold.

There’s a distinct click and then a long pause. You don’t even see the doorknob rotate because the door gets flung open with such speed and force it slams against the wall and bounces back.

“Konig?” You fear melds with confusion as you make sense of the figure rushing in.

He’s already closed most of the gap between you when you manage to squeak out a more alarmed, “Konig!”

It’s scary to have such a large man charge you, especially one you’re so used to being docile around you, one that usually stands hesitantly by the door until invited closer.

You don’t have a lot of time to think about it. Konig grabs you by the crest of the back of your neck with one hand, his other hand lifting up his mask to kiss you without room for arguing.

You let out a surprised gasp that was muffled by the kiss, and he takes that opportunity to have his tongue greet yours. His grip is tight on the back of your neck, his fingers digging in slightly to stake his claim. The stubble on his chin brushes roughly against your skin as he takes what’s his.

Once you catch up, you close your eyes and try to match his intensity but it’s difficult to keep up.

He finally pulls away, out of breath and letting his hood fall back over his mouth, his now free hand moving to the side of your face, “I’m sorry I left you, mein schatz.” He pulls away from your face slightly with a breath, “I needed to think.”

Your wide eyes flicker between his, mouth slightly parted as you nod. “Yeah,” your voice is breathy, the shock of the kiss having knocked the wind out you, “That’s uh, understandable.”

He brings his face closer to you. His eyes shift, and you see that dark flicker again.

“You have to understand, liebe, your deed will not go unpunished.”

Your brows retract as you swallow at the threat, looking up at him with concern in your eyes and your thighs pressed together.

You’ve been nervous around Konig before, maybe even scared, but you’ve never feared for your safety. Quite the opposite, actually. Such a large, strong soldier on your team gives you a shield of comfort - he made you feel safe.

But the way his voice had lowered and his eyes tinted with something primal shoots a tingle down your spine and raises the hairs on your neck. You’re not sure what he means, but your brain is coming up with ideas faster than you can sink your teeth into the details.

You’re almost ashamed at the warm feeling of arousal that sinks to your lower abdomen.

He kisses you again, this time closed and softer. When he pulls away his face stays dangerously close to yours, “You’ve done a very bad thing, liebe. You understand?”

His voice is low and husked but holds incredible authority. You can’t help but feel like a child being scolded in the principal’s office. You nod slowly, lips pursed and eyes still rounded in suspense.

He brings his finger up to your chin, his face close enough your noses are brushing, “I can’t hear a nod.”

The knot in your stomach doubles and your breath hitches a bit, shaking as you speak, “Yes, Konig, I understand.”

His thumb strokes your cheek, but it doesn’t soothe the mixture of fear and arousal flushing your skin.

“Would you like to right your wrong?”

You take a deep breath. You’re not sure what you’re agreeing to, but you’ve been desperate to fix what you’ve done since the moment you committed it. “Yes, Konig.” You nod your head, “I’d do anything.”

A pleased hum comes from him, and you're close enough to feel the vibration. You swallow nervously, gaze hesitantly watching his animalistic eyes stare down at you like you’re his prey.

“Stay.” He orders, pulling away from you and letting his hand linger on your face for an extra moment before turning away from you.

You obey, both fear of consequence and desperation to please not allowing an ounce of will to defy him. Your eyes are still locked on him as he steps to the dinky little table he had set the device on three days ago.

You had left it untouched, making it easier to swallow by still thinking of the device as his. As if Konig had just left it behind by mistake instead of intentionally returning your property to you.

He took both carefully in his hand before returning to you, boots asserting themselves as they slowly and confidently traverse the linoleum. He holds the devices out for you to take. “Feed on. Projection off.”

And you follow his instructions, what choice do you have? When his voice is strict and he’s standing over you, intimidating stature making you feel so small and defenseless. The shake of your hands causes your fingers to fumble as you struggle with the remote, his hand held out impatiently as you stumble with fluster.

When you finally get it, you place both devices in his palm, staring up with your eyes begging for his approval.

He gives you nothing, as usual, placing the earpiece under his hood and setting the wrist piece down simultaneously.

“You stepped out of line, liebe.” Konig takes closer to small gap between you you, “You humiliated me.”

His eyes are half-lidded now, boring into you with menace.

“And now I’m going to humiliate you.”

He touches your face with his thumb again. You can’t help but flinch at the gentle touch, on edge from unease and excitement.

He gives another light huff, reveling in his ability to intimidate you.

“On your knees.” He commands, finger pointing at the floor as he slides back to make room for you.

He huffs in satisfaction at the dumbfounded look on your face. Your mouth slightly agape and stuttering - it’s dawning on you now; exactly what you have to do to right your wrongs.

He squints at you, voice leaving no room for error, “Did I stutter, Schatz?”

That sinister glint in his eye returns again, and just the sight is enough to get you to slide quickly to the floor, assuming your position on both knees, neck slowly tilting back to take him in as he towers over you.

He leans in to to cup your face again, giving it a soft yet firm pat, “Good.”

Your heart flutters at the praise, even if simply articulated.

That’s all you want to hear. That you’re good. You want to be so good for him.

You’re dripping now, Konig already having you ache for his touch.

His strong hands slide down your face, four fingers cupping your jaw as his thumb brushes your bottom lip gently. When your lips part he slides his thumb in your mouth and you oblige, obediently sucking and showing him what you can do with your tongue.

He gives a low pleased hum before removing his thumb and reaching for his belt, the buckle jingling as he unlatches it and removes it from his waist in one swift pull.

Your stare follows the belt as he folds it in half, and he muses at your worried look. He likes the way your mind wanders, always running with the possibilities. It’s what drew you to him in the first place.

He doesn’t hit you, though, just taps it against the bottom of your chin to get you to fix your gaze back on him. Once he’s got your attention, he discards the belt and reaches down to pop the button on his pants, yanking each end to get the zipper down in one smooth move.

He slides his thumbs behind both waistbands, pulling them down just enough to expose his cock. It’s rock hard and practically springs from his pants, and you can’t help but let out a small squeak and just how big it is.

You’ve seen it before, studied it endlessly, imagined it so many times.

It did nothing to prepare you for kneeling before it. Just like the rest of him, his cock intimidated you, at full attention and already leaking precum.

“Wrap your hands around it, schatz.”

You follow his orders, softly gripping his cock. You’ve studied the video of him jerking off so many times, you know exactly how to please him. You start with a loose grip, your hand sliding from base to tip at a slow pace, as your other hand cups his balls.

At first he watches, enjoying how your hands looked so small around him. He can’t help but close his eyes and tilt his head back as he lets out a soft moan.

It sounds so much better in person, and your pace picks up, desperate to elicit more from him.

He tilts his head forward to get a better view of you.

“Suck.” He commands, and you hesitate for a brief moment, worried about the logistics, before ditching your fears and giving it your best shot.

You keep your hand steady on his shaft as you guide the tip to your tongue, a slow lick clearing the bead of pre-cum that had formed.

He lets out another low moan that makes you quiver.

You press your lips to him, slowing working the tip into your mouth as you tease with your tongue.

As you work steadily down his shaft, you have to fully unhinge your jaw to fit him in to avoid teeth, and even then it’s a close call. You’re continue carefully and he seems willing to be patient with you as you get used to his size.

You manage to somewhat comfortably fit half of him in your mouth, using your free hand to squeeze the base of his shaft. You start to move back and forth, pressing your tongue against him.

He watches in awe as you take him in, not holding back in his pleaded hums and groans.

“So good, Schatz.”

Warmth pools in your chest at the praise.

You look at him with a doe eyes and a full mouth, bobbing on his cock as you slick it up.

He moans at the sight, placing a hand on the back of your head. He follows it up with another order.

“Deeper. I want to see you choke on it.”

You’re not in a position to argue, so you oblige, letting his cock slide as deep as you can, but he’s not pleased with your attempt. He tightens his grip on the back of your head, fingers laced between strands of hair, and slowly forces his cock in until you’re squeaking out noises involuntarily, eyes welling with tears.

He starts to fuck your mouth, slowly at first, but picks up the pace. He doesn’t wait for you to get your bearings or catch your breath, savoring the lengths you’ll go to please him.

“There you go, schatz, so good for me.”

The tears are steaming now as he triggers your gag reflex, and your underwear is stained with your arousal in response to being praised and used.

He pulls out of your mouth, his cock still wet with your spit, and takes a step back to admire you. Your breath quickening to catch up, the flushed look of your face, the disheveled hair. He relished in the mess he was making of the intelligent professional he had come to know.

He gives a pleased hum at how you wait so patiently for his next order.

“Up. Clothes off.”

Your breath hitched, cheeks flushing a shade deeper. You wipe the spit from your mouth and slowly stand, hands shaking with nerves.

Your fingers dig into the hem of your shirt, desperate to grip onto something, and you hesitate at his command, nervous to let him see you even more exposed.

You ignore your nerves, too willing to please Konig, and pull your shirt over your disheveled hair and discard it on the couch. Your fingers fumble with the waistband on your lounge pants, sheepishly pulling them down your thighs and stepping carefully out of them.

You stand before him in your underwear, and you can’t help but cross one arm over yourself. The way he’s staring at you, not shy about his gaze mapping your newly uncovered features. He steps forward again, close enough his hard cock brushes against your warm skin.

He gives a low hum of approval and steps closer, his hands gently running along your sides until they find your waist, staking their claim with a firm grip. He leans in and you feel the drape of his hood caress your shoulder as he brushes his head against yours, lips in your ear.

“You’re so beautiful, meine schatz.”

You close your eyes as he plants a kiss though his hood on your neck, and you can feel his breath through the soft cotton.

It’s not fair that you’re naked while he’s still fully covered. You feel so vulnerable and exposed.

You quickly understand that’s exactly what you had done to him and let out a soft whimper at the realization that this is intentional, that he’s issuing this power play as part of your punishment. You’ve had your time to admire his body, now it’s his turn.

“Bedroom, now.” The softness leaves his voice with the demand and he pulls away from you once again to get a better view of you.

The knot is your lower abdomen doubles as you turn and head to the bedroom, giving him a good long look at the back of you.

You stand at the narrow space between the end of the bed and the wall, looking up at him when he enters, waiting for his next order. You can’t help but notice the jingle of his belt as he carried it with him. He sets it on the bed and takes his time committing your image to memory.

“On your back, liebe.” The pet name doesn’t soften the domineering tone, warning you not to dare rebel against him.

You follow his order, getting up on the bed and laying down for him, your upper half propped up by your elbows.

Konig follows, crawling over top of you slowly, his massive frame engulfing you beneath him as you lean into the bed. He appears even more menacing over top of you, strong arms and legs trapping you beneath him. You can’t help the nervous expression on your face as you stare up at those hungry eyes.

He brings a hand up to touch your face, leaning forward to plant another kiss on your lips, lifting up his mask as he does so. It annoys you that whenever he pulls away the hood falls, and you can’t even get a peek at what you assume is a strong jaw.

The hand on your face slides down your neck, fingers traversing the bumps of your collarbones before he shifts down to your chest, stopping for a moment to tease your nipples to attention. You suck in a breath and arch into the touch.

He hums again, low and devious.

Your hands reach up to touch his arms, but he doesn’t let you, removing his hands from your chest and grabbing your wrists firmly. He passes one off so he can hold both of your arms in one strong grip, and you’re amazed he’s able to subdue both of your wrists with just one of his massive hands. He leans back and uses his free hand to reach for the belt at the foot of the bed, before wrapping it around your wrists and fastening the buckle tightly.

He leans in close to your face as he places your restrained hands back above your head. He takes in the way your breath quickens through parted lips, eyes wide and cheeks flush with excitement and worry. He likes making you falter, likes watching you breakdown underneath his power.

“You’re all mine.” He reminds you, one hand keeping your bound wrists firmly above your head.

You nod, and when you speak your voice comes out quiet and broken, “All yours, Konig.”

It gratifies him, judging by his self-assured laugh and the way his cock twitches against your stomach. “That’s it, liebe.”

He removes his grip on your forearm with a firm squeeze to remind you to stay, and he scoots himself back so that either leg is straddling your thighs instead of your waist. His gaze shifts down, soaking in every inch as he cups you over your underwear, his careful touch taking advantage of your sensitivity.

You can’t help but grind your hips into his teasing, already leaking for him.

“Mm, I can tell you’re enjoying this. Such a dirty little pervert you are.”

You close your eyes and let out a whine at the teasing, both verbal and physical.

“Don’t worry, liebe, I’m getting impatient as well.”

He slips his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, sliding his fingers along your hips to tease you a bit before sliding them down, having to readjust himself as he takes them off. He repositions himself between your legs this time, letting either of your ankles at his sides.

His hands slide up your quivering thighs, spreading you open and getting a good look at you. You try and fight the embarrassment under the heat of his stare, resisting the urge to bring your bound wrists down to cover yourself.

He takes his time slicking himself up with lube - he came prepared, you noticed. Premeditated passion. Guess he has to when he’s got such a large cock.

You’re worried about the logistics, but you get the feeling Konig wouldn’t dare hurt you in this way.

Once he’s nice and slicked, he lines the tip against your aching warmth, and leans down close to you.

“Are you ready, meine liebe?”

“Please, Konig.” You whine, rutting your hips to grind against him.

He closes his eyes as he slowly works himself into you. Your suspicions are confirmed as he stops just after the tip, opening his eyes again to confirm the level of comfort displayed on your features.

Your teeth are grit, but you nod your head in approval.

He’s continues, pace so careful as he pushes himself further into you. It’s been so long since you’ve got any action, especially action from someone so well endowed, you’re incredibly tight around him. He’s studying you, searching for signs of being pushed over the limit as he takes his time stretching you out.

You can’t help let out a soft moan when he’s halfway in, just at the feeling of being filled. Your eyes flutter shut, giving yourself the ability to concentrate on the cock working into you.

It takes awhile, it does. You’re so small and he’s so big, but he doesn’t seem to mind, enjoying using you as his cockwarmer, walls so cozy and tight around him. He thinks it’s so goddamn arousing that he’s so huge you have to push yourself to take him. He likes that he’s a challenge for you. He wants to train you and shape you in every sense of the word.

But for now, he allows you take the lead from underneath him, letting yourself grind your hips down on to him at your own pace as he lets low moans escape him.

When you’re finally at the point of desperately rutting your hips against him, you give him all he needs to hear.

“Fuck me, Konig, please fuck me.”

He obliges, unable to say no to your eager and breathy tone. His fingers grip onto your outer thighs as he thrusts into you. His pace is quick, but he’s still cautious not to force himself too deep inside you. He’s a disciplined man, after all.

Even without being all the way inside you, he’s still deep enough to hit the spot, forcing moans to escape from parted lips.

“Look at me, liebe.”

You oblige, and his cock twitches inside of you at the sight of your half-lidded eyes glazed in pleasure. He grunts, his pace picking up as he ventures deeper inside of you.

You can’t help the mutters and moans spilling from you. Your hands mindlessly move from above your head to his chest, tugging on the fabric of his shirt.

“You feel so good. So good for me, schatz.”

You moan in response, and he decides he’s worked you open enough to push all the way in.

You’re cockdrunk now. Breathy moans escaping without thought, eyes unfocused and body limp to his desires.

When he suddenly pulls out you whine. “Koni- please.”

“On your front.” He commands as he sits back on his knees, towering over you.

You’re flush and out of breath as you do as he says, positioning yourself the best you can with your hands bound. On all fours, head down towards the pillows as you arch your back.

The bed shifts under him as he scoots close before giving your ass a firm smack, the gasp leaving your mouth more out of surprise than pain. He gives you a few more, alternating between your cheeks. Just enough to leave handprints behind, marking you as his own.

He lines up with you again, pressing into you without hesitation.

You both let out moans at the return of warmth. He’s less gentle now, pounding into you hard enough the sound of flesh crashing together fills the room. The creaky bed is slamming against the dingy walls and your thighs are rippling on impact. You can’t help but quiver as the pleasure washes through you.

He’s got such a rhythmic pace, slamming into you while he grips your hips tight to keep you still.

“All mine.” He growls between breathy groans.

You can't even respond, practically drooling into the pillows as Konig fucks you senseless. A string of broken praises fall from your lips, mostly nonsense. Konig leans in and leaves little kisses down your back, without breaking his pace.

“Koni, I’m gon’na- fuck, Konig.”

“Come for me, meine liebe.”

Your eyes pinch shut and a broken moan leaves your lips as you ride the waves of intense pleasure washing through you. It’s enough to make your entire body clench, your walls gripping onto Konig.

He doesn’t let up, forcing your thighs open as he mercilessly pounds you through orgasm.

He gives your ass another firm smack, and your fingers are clawing desperately at the pillows, searching for any sort of stability but you’re powerless to Konig and his forceful cock.

You’re on cloud nine, feeling so far away from your body as you’re washed up on the shores of pleasure. Konig’s strength is the only thing holding you steady.

“I’m going to come, schatz.” He warns, moaning your name just like he did on the video before he fills you up and stakes his claim deep inside you.

His fingers dig into your thighs as his muscles tense under his clothes, his thrusts and moans becoming uneven as he loses himself to the euphoric gratification.

He pauses for a few moments after he slows to a stop, taking a moment to catch his breath as he lets his cock warm inside you.

He pulls out of you with a low grunt, watching the come that spills out of you. When he releases his grip on you, you’re too weak to support yourself, sliding limp on your front and basking in the afterglow of your orgasm.

He takes pleasure in knowing he marked you, completely broke you down and disheveled you. Made you feel so good you have to collect yourself afterwards.

He steps out for a moment before quickly returning with something to clean you both up with.

He’s gentle with the clean-up, wiping away the mixture of lube and come from you while minding your sensitivity, not wanting to disturb your bliss. He removes the belt from your wrists as well.

“Konig? Cuddle.” You mutter, arm stretching across the bedspread.

You don’t see the smile underneath his hood, but after he wipes himself off he joins you back on the bed, the mattress creaking for a final time as he pulls you in a spoon. You feel so safe and small, pressed into him like this. His strong arms wrapped around you. His chest on your back. You let out a pleased hum.

“That’s going to make a nice video.” He says, removing his earpiece and turning it off as he sets it on the bed.

“You can have the real thing anytime.” You say, eyes closed with a warm smile on your face.

He hums low in your ear and gives you a kiss on the cheek, “You’re forgiven, Schatz.”

“Thank you Koni.”

You both drift off, tired out from your intense finishes.

You stay close throughout the night, but having him pressed into you unfortunately didn’t stop the nightmares. When you wake up in a panic, kicking and screaming at the latest renditioning of your mind’s unresolved trauma, Konig’s there to press his hand to your heart, telling you that everything’s okay, it was just a nightmare.

Your breath is still rapid and your heart is still pounding as you steady yourself, transitioning yourself back to reality after the night terror.

He hugs you so tight, reminding you about how he’ll always be there to protect you, that no one will ever hurt you again, he will not let anything happen to you.

You steady yourself, and he knows well enough how hard it is to calm yourself after such an immersive terrifying experience.

“I brought something for that, Schatz.”

When he leaves the room you think he’s going to bring you a book, a puzzle, something to do to distract yourself.

What he brings back makes you tense, your eyes widening at the gift. He sets it down for you, getting back into the bed and resuming his position wrapped around you, protecting you. But your eyes are glued to the gift, the full implications sinking in.

Konig had set down Ghost’s mask.

“No one will find out about your secret. I took care of it.”

You don’t need him to explain further. You know Ghost will never have the opportunity to hurt you again.

“Thank you, Konig.”

He kisses your shoulder through his hood, “My pleasure, meine liebe. Sleep tight.”

And you do.

———————————————————————-

More by uhohdad:

The Girl Who Conquered The Mountain: [Hunger Games AU] Konig & Reader are selected to fight in a twenty-four tribute fight to the death.

Meine Perle: Reader is tasked with feeding enemy prisoner Octo!Konig

HIS: Konig has an unhealthy obsession with you.

Original Works Masterlist

[princelylove]

My Prince, if i may please ask a question…

It seems like it wouldn’t be too difficult to get rid of someone obsessed with their darling by pretending to have the qualities that they hate.

For example, getting pornography and leaving it somewhere for Pannacotta to find, or buying illegal drugs to make Bruno think you do drugs, even if darling wouldn’t do these things normally?

If one starts (constantly, even if they think they’re alone) acting like they have a ‘true’ side to themselves that their obsession is disgusted by, then wouldn’t they leave you alone?

Leone could easily replay your actions before you started pretending to see it’s all an act. But for others, this could work if you’re convincing enough, right?

Thank you.

You know what? You’d be right! If they were suddenly stupid.

It's not the worst attempt. Maybe they've just started having an interest in you. Maybe they don't know you as well as they'd like to yet. But, look. Pannacotta isn't stupid, and neither is Bruno.

Pannacotta is a man who values his ability to use basic pattern recognition. That doesn’t mean he won’t have a reaction, but. Think about it logically, Panna. Of course they (you) would have a personal life, or try to scare you (him) off. You (he) are (is) acting like a fucking creep!!!! Duh!!!! Bruno can ask Leone to replay your actions, but Pannacotta can't, as their relationship is strained. He has less tools, but Panna doesn't need them to figure out that you're faking to shake him. Who leaves this stuff just laying around? A pervert who needs to be "mercy" killed, that's who, but you're not supposed to be doing these things. Ughh. It's too much for him. Give him a little while, he'll consider all of his feelings, and decide what to do from there.

You're probably not expecting him to double down, but Pannacotta is obsessed, whether he likes it or not. He doesn't want to like you, you're gross, but. He's giddy at the idea of talking to you again, of you looking at him and having those sorts of thoughts, and- oh, god. He didn't just think that. He didn't just admit that. Why can't you just leave him alone????

Bruno… knows what withdrawals look like. If you’re consistently using drugs, he’d know, because he’d cut off your access to it in the first place. His logic is that you can’t hide your body’s reaction to not having it.

He sees your recent purchase, and he raises this: confiscating it and all of your money. If you’re really addicted, you’d sell your things to get your fix. Would you sell your prized possession? Sentimental objects? Are you going to ask someone for a favor? Would you sell your body for just a little? Would you ask him?

You'd need to be such a convincing actor that Bruno Bucciarati is reminded of all the addicts he's ever had to deal with- an association that he'd like his darling to be nowhere near. If you do fool him (or genuinely are an addict), he'd just lead you through going clean. I don't think Bruno's problem is the drugs itself- if you're an adult (Which you should be if you're reading this), you can smoke. You can drink. Children cannot, and his problem is pushing drugs on children who haven't had the chance to develop yet- although he has a distaste for those who do it in public. He has sons, don't be a bad influence on them. He'll still love you, of course he does, we all have our struggles.

Leone, however, isn't the most intelligent on team Bucciarati. He’s average, but, look. I see every single member of team Bucciarati outshining him in the ‘figuring things out, and quickly’ category. Even Narancia knows when something's off- gut feelings over real logic, but still. Leone's quick to blame himself and outside sources before he'd consider blaming the best thing that's ever happened to him. The tricky part of that is that Leone doesn't have the same turn offs that the prudes above him do- the type of person he falls for doesn't have to be good, he just thinks they are. You're mean to him? Deserved, he's a dick to you. Good luck weirding him out.

Back to the topic of my last post of yanderes having some sort of fault. Something you can exploit and theoretically abuse... Yanderes are only human- Bruno was once a little boy. So was Pannacotta. For some yanderes, you can pick and prod at their insecurities, for others, you can express how off-put you are. Everyone's different. If you really wanted to shake Panna, you'd have to commit. A little pornography will upset and disgust Pannacotta, but he's too obsessed to let you go. Bruno's a committed husband who won't abandon his spouse for a little problem that you can recover from.

Have you ever stayed with someone that wronged you? Forgiven something that's entirely unforgivable? Most yanderes- especially delusional yanderes- won't let you go because you're attempting to break their fantasy. I think it's possible, but not with those two. Or three, rather. Leone's there too.

What does being let go mean, though? Do you assume that if they don't like you anymore, it means you're free to go? Some yanderes are compelled to change you, or they'll just kill you. Would you let your ex just roam free if they knew you killed people? So trusting.

[ronn-uuu]

Stay up for me?

I made a part 2 for y’all bitches!! 😁 I hope you y’all enjoy!! 🫶🏾

|Part 1|

Summary: It’s been 4 weeks since the music incident with Steven. You’ve been trying to talk to your neighbor(s) to befriend ‘him’ but he’s never there. One day you hear him through the walls one night and decide this is your chance.

Pairing: Marc x Reader (heavily), Steven x reader and Jake x reader.

You were laying on your bed with your phone in hand reading some random stuff (like you are now.) trying to cure some sort of boredom or need inside of your chest. Your mind wondered onto the neighbor, the one you met about a month ago, you kinda wanted to see him again. Your attempts to talk to him always failed. He was never home and when he was you were out. One time you passed him without realizing it, he was leaving and you were heading to your Flat. You walked right past him no words at all. You didn’t realize he might be your neighbor until you were trying to fall asleep.

You huffed in embarrassment, you really missed your chance and you don’t know when—

Muffled speaking cut your self loathing. You looked at the wall next your bed, waiting to see if you were just hearing things.

“We need to talk to Khonshu about these hell of hours, yeah?” Muffled through the thin wall. It took you 5 seconds to hop off your bed put some pants on, slip your fluffy boots on, and clean yourself up in the mirror. It was embarrassing how quickly you changed emotions, your looks and self esteem just for a guy who knocked on your door a month ago. Though you didn’t care, you wanted to finally speak to him. The very pretty Steven Grant was home and you just had to shoot your horrible shot.

You closed your front door and walked next door. Your heart was going so fast and I you were literally beaming, like a kid who just got praised for something. You knocked softly after fixing your hair one last time.

Marc was currently in control, he got them home and cleaned them up. The month after meeting you was full of them running around meeting up with Layla, protecting people, artifacts, and people. Their sleep schedule was totally fucked, once steven finally fell asleep and in the same minute Jake woke up and went out to go fight crime. They had an altar meeting after waking in a dark alley bloody, bruised and still in the suit.

Marc sighs as he feeds Gus 2.0 since Steven will never let Marc get away will killing the original Gus. Just when he was beginning to start his horrendous sulking he heard a knock.

“Who could be awake at this hour?” Steven questioned.

“Who knows,” Jake replied. Marc walked towards the door and opened it. None of them would have thought it would be the pretty neighbor from next door, Marc should have given the body to Steven but Marc didn’t give him an ounce of control. His eyes racked over your frame. You looked so snug in that fluffy faux fur jacket and those fluffy boots, he couldn’t help but think you looked cute.

“Hey Steven!” You exclaimed. You were excited to meet him again but hearing a name that wasn’t his but his altar’s made him jealous.

“Hey, it’s been awhile,” Marc says. You notice his accent was American, his features were more rougher, and he stood more confident than when you last saw him. Maybe it’s because last time you saw him, he was tired. But he changes accents when he’s tired…?? You shoved the thought of it down. Maybe he’ll tell you one day.

“Yes it has. I’ve been trying reach you for a while,” you admitted. Marc smiled, you we’re trying to reach them and it won't be the first and definitely not last time he cursed khonshu. He could have been spending his time with you but he knew deep down that lives would have lost so he kept the cures to a minimum.

“Really?” Marc smuggly asked. Steven was partying in their mind., their neighbor literally sought for them after the music incident. This was the close he got for someone showing interest in him. Jake praised him for it too.

“Yes, steven,” you said as you playfully roll your eyes. Marc would be lying if he didn’t say ant to tell you everything… First with his DiD. That he was Marc Spector and not Steven, but one thing held him back. Rejection. If you reject him even the slightest about his identity he’ll never feel alive again. His mind is already ‘broken’ enough.

"I should have asked this when I knocked on your door. What's your name, sweetheart?" Marc asked looking down at you. You smiled and told him your name before he parriot it back to you with such softness, like it was a delicate flower. Your eyes soften towards him, if he keeps saying your name like that you'll never let him go. Their mind was filled with steven and Jake repeating it.

“Hey I’m thinking of getting a late night snack… want to come?” You ask and ‘steven’ nods. You smiled widely that would have your cheek bones hurting for a bit.

[meowstix]

ok so uh. here's my Big List Of Changes I'd Make To Bakuten Shoot Beyblade. off the top of my head.

s1:

be less 🤨 about some of the one-off teams. racism in beyblade is a whole can of worms that i don't feel super confident in talking about overall (seeing as how i am well. very much white) but at the very least there's a couple things that stand out as questionable and this is definitely the easiest fix in regards to that

that's about it

v-force/2002:

WHY THE HELL IS EVERYONE LIKE NOTICEABLY PALER. give them some fucking sun jfc (this also applies to g-rev)

this is one of the larger ones but include atleast an episode or two showing teams from s1. in particular i'm imagining neo-borg early on (see ozma defeating yuriy in the manga), the ppb team during the america eps, and. ok i'm admittedly not sure how you'd work baihuzu and the euro team in there but whatever

psykick should not exist. make zagart be responsible for everything from the start and call him out on all of the fucked up shit he's responsible for

instead of doing a bunch of random goon episodes make them do silly filler things with Maybe a goon thrown in at the end

g-revolution:

rubs hands together. there's a LOT to go over here for starters either treat daichi better or don't include him at all. if you were to opt to remove him then have kyojyu fight alongside takao instead

i don't actually know what to do with the world tournament but it definitely needs a full overhaul. on one hand the character balancing was doomed from the start but also i do kind of wish team cybers was there.

on the topic of the world tournament remove tao entirely. we did not fucking need the "pervy old man" archetype in beyblade. who the fuck thought that was not only okay but necessary

MAKE BARTHEZ SOLDAT MORE RELEVANT FOR THE LOVE OF GOD THEY'RE ONE OF LIKE TWO INTERESTING THINGS HAPPENING.

speaking of which lean more into takao's struggles with fame

let kai and yuriy be anything more than Edgy. let them have depth. please. (i know yuriy did get to have depth for a bit but in his case i mean during the world tournament)

ideally i think takao vs kai, and really takao's battles with all of his teammates, would be a showcase of how far they've come since the start of the series. call back to their first encounters, show how they've changed, all of that stuff.

and speaking of kai. oh boy. time for the bega arc. for a long ass time i struggled to think of a reason for kai to join, but i think i've got it. after not only his loss to takao but possibly other fights during the world tournament, kai genuinely feels like he's falling behind. volkov takes advantage of this and while kai ultimately knows not to trust him, he's desperate.

this then ties into his conflict with brooklyn. brooklyn is in a similar position to how kai used to be at the start of the show, albeit less uh. Violent. so, kai not only learns how to deal with his own conflict, but also helps brooklyn deal with that same inevitability of burnout.

also, remove the whole aspect of brooklyn not enjoying beyblading because i can definitely see why the beyblade anime would be hesitant to have a character quit beyblading because they fucking hate it. this also fully allows the moral of brooklyn's story to change from "just work hard lol" to "you will never be perfect, and that's okay."

god dammit this could also tie into takao abandoning what the media and public expect of him i just now realized this one IT'S ALL COMING TOGETHER I TELL YA.

you know the clip that's like "you're taking everything i say out of context to make it sound like i think coolsville sucks" and they cut it down to "i think coolsville sucks". i want more of that vibe

here's probably The most major change. the justice 5 matches? to hell with that. instead go for a hades city-style break in, allowing everyone to showcase their own unique strengths even outside of beyblading, and letting all of the main characters win their own respective fights.

and lastly, and this is the most crucial thing: cut it with that attitude of being Cool and Edgy. you are a fucking beyblade anime, embrace that! stop trying to act like you're Above power of friendship and silly spinning tops! have some fucking whimsy in your life.

oh also i guess like. acknowledge sacred beasts existing even if they're not really plot relevant. i kind of forgot about that

[bagheerita]

For the unpopular opinion edition! 💚 🖤 💖

Woot! I’m gonna do SGA, bc it’s my main fandom, and SGU, bc I know it’s more your favorite.

(I do wish I was more aware of what the unpopular opinions in the fandom are bc I have no idea how mine rank on a popularity scale...)

💚: What does everyone else get wrong about your favorite character?

My favorite SGA character is Todd, and I’m not sure I can think of a specific something that I think everyone gets wrong about him. I encourage people to have more, wilder takes on Todd. Maybe always pairing him up with John is something I don't like? Lmao, it’s the pot calling the kettle black, but I do wish that there were more fics that explored him in other relationships. They do have good chemistry, so I get it, but I guess I'm just a rare-pair shipper at heart and now that John/Todd is getting more popular I want rarer stuff. 😅

My favorite SGU character is Greer. I do not remember ever reading anything that I felt got him wrong, so... Please have wrong takes about Greer, world. Reading bad takes annoys me and makes me want to write my own fics. 😂

🖤: Which character is not as morally good as everyone else seems to think?

This is so interesting, because SGA is the war-crimes apologist fandom, so I don’t think everyone thinks anyone is particularly morally good.  I’m gonna say Heightmeyer. I can never forgive her specifically for the way she lied to Michael, betraying her profession and his trust, and I was unmoved by her death. I feel like she has a few fans so that’s probably an unpopular opinion.

SGU is a morally grey character hot spot so... Maybe Caine? I think we’re supposed to think he’s “good” but I’m not sure if everyone actually does. I'll say also that Riley is really annoying me on my current watch-through of the series. I feel like he'd be that friend who's always like "we should do this because it's the right thing to do" in whatever situation, when actually it's just the most annoying thing to do.

💖: What is your biggest unpopular opinion about the series?

I’m not sure about biggest… I feel like this is probably pretty niche, but I’ve seen a couple takes about Kolya being sexually abusive to Todd during his captivity. I don't know if people are taking this as a headcanon or just a fic idea... but while I think it’s an interesting idea, I disagree with it having happened. Mostly just because I don’t see Kolya as being a sexual person, I don't get that energy from him. (Yes, he is certainly a sadist, he gets pleasure from breaking people down, but I don’t think it’s sexual for him.)

For SGU, I once got a repudiating comment on a post because I was ragging on the show for having bad writing, but I don’t necessarily think that’s an unpopular opinion. How about, I wish Amanda was in more episodes and I wish there was more exploration of Amanda and Ginn being in the ship. I think Amanda is a fascinatingly flawed character with a lot of potential that is never realized, because of the aforementioned bad writing issues. Stop focusing on her obsession with Rush and explore her general hedonism! (I'm thinking of the episode of SG1 where Daniel gets addicted to the sarcophagus as a model... give us more of Amanda being obsessed with being able to "feed herself" alien strawberries or whatever, and she makes it a problem for the whole crew because she's stopped caring about fixing the ship.) If I'm not going to complain about needing to rewrite the entire arc that ended them up there, I think the show cuts off the idea of Ginn and Amanda being "spirits in the ship" right when it could have gotten interesting, not that that is unusual for Stargate. We can't have nice things 😭 and I would have liked to explore that more as a plot point, and also had more for Eli and Ginn to do. The whole "together but apart" and "dead but still here" thing is super tragic, and I would have liked to get more of it explored through a lens that wasn't just Amanda's obsession with Rush.

Thanks for the ask!!😁

(unpopular opinion ask game!)

[wazzappp]

It's my dad's birthday weekend so my family rented a place by the lake and HOOGH is it giving me ideas for the safe house Robbie and Gabe would be staying at between RE7 and RE 8.

I want to change some stuff about the safe house itself (specifically I want it to be by the water). Maybe fewer stairs (just in case Gabe has some trouble adjusting). It's still in Spain of course we still need RE8 to happen, still in the woods, just with a lake!

After about 2 days of interviews (interrogations) to figure out exactly WHAT happened the BSAA makes their decision what to do with the boys. They're told they're getting relocated. Congratulations! It's not a choice.

They're shipped out on a plane to some place they don't know the name of and introduced to a house they've never seen before. There's a lady showing them around like she's trying to sell it to them. It's an older place but with new furnishings. It's nice and cozy. Two floors, fireplaces for the winter, two bedrooms and two bathrooms (Gabe is EXTATIC about that bit he gets HIS OWN BATHROOM. Robbies not really mad about it either). The top area is a living room with a kitchen dining room deck and a bedroom with a bathroom. Downstairs is an additional bedroom and bathroom with its own smaller deck. The backyard is a bit of a mess with two distinct areas. The garden (facing the lake with an artificial beach and dock) and a running around area (overrun with tall grass. The people who lived there before hadnt bothered to weed or mow. Or hadn't been there in a while). There's also a garage (the lady mentions There's also a fixer upper car in there.) There's also a town not to far away (they'll need to ask for permission to leave).

Groceries are delivered each week with instructions for how to cook the meals inside (if they want to switch to pre-made all they need to do is ask) along with a weekly allowance of what robbie made in about a month working at Canelos for any extra stuff they might want. It's perfect. Robbie is scheming for how to get away immediately.

But suddenly he realizes the wall to stop erosion on the small beach is starting to fail and Gabe has been loving being in the water so much. So he takes a couple of rocks and spends a day moving them around to fix it. The fixer upper in the garage has some unique problems of its own too, and if he ever wants to get to town he should really take care of that. And they have the money now so he orders Gabe all the ninja wolf memorabilia he could want. Games and books and action figures the whole deal. Pretty soon posters are all over his walls.

The meals are good too. Gabes finally approaching a good bodyweight and he's using it to explore the woods nearby and he's taken an interest in cleaning up the garden. Robbie realizes the more grassy area would make an EXCELLENT shooting range for practice (he was caught off guard. He wont be EVER again). He asks about it and the handlers say they'll see what they can do. Sending someone to 'train him' (supervise) while he tries new things and sets up targets. Sometimes he even has Gabe move pulleys around so he can practice shooting moving targets. They still dont trust him, but to appease his want for a morning routine of shooting practice they let him keep a handgun. Gabe is able to call some of his friends on occasion (monitored of course) and tell them a bit about what life is like now. They feel distant but hey. Better than nothing.

It's sort of hard to think about leaving now (especially after Gabe starts practicing his abilities in the garden. Especially after Robbie cuts himself on accident while cooking and sees it heal right before his eyes. When he starts to wonder if it's a good move to keep him away from other people).

The BSAA has managed to strike a balance between 'allowing them to recover' and 'keeping them busy enough that they won't WANT to escape or fall into any post traumatic depression (hey they can't really control that but they can t r y). Keeping the boys together, monitored, and away from people they can infect is their best move. Regular doctors visits help to monitor their mutations. They're both still infected and the BSAA knows that. But it's worth more to keep them alive as possible assets than to destroy the first real example of a stable biowepon.

[mwolf0epsilon]

Hi there. I'm still new to tumblr and to the starwars animated series fandom so I'm not very good at keeping up with things or asking about stuff that's been going on. As of late I've noticed there's a lot of discourse about Tech from the bad batch show. Could you maybe explain to me why? It's ok if you don't want to answer, I just saw that sometimes you answer these kinds of questions and you never sound mean when you do it? I'm trying not to sound dumb but I don't understand what's going on.

Yesterday when I got this ask I decided I wasn't going to answer it immediately. Both because it was my birthday and I'd rather enjoy it than delve deep into fandom drama that I'm not 100% interested in following, and because I just didn't have the time to do it any sort of justice in terms of explaining what's gone down.

Newbie Anon I'll be frank with you, I am not really sure what sparked the recent mess relating to Tech (there's always hot debates sparked by TBB for obvious reasons if you ask some of the older people in the fandom, but that's something I think you'll figure out fairly quickly if you stick around tumblr for a while). But I do have a bit of a theory...

I'm gonna keep this one under a cut for the sake of my followers and pals that don't want to get slapped in the face with this topic.

---

To start this off Newbie Anon, The Bad Batch is unquestioningly a Whitewashed Mess.

It has surpassed The Clone Wars in piss poor poc design, and while this is not a new issue (the clones have always been inconsistently portrayed as white men in various forms of older media) the animated series haven't done jackshit to fix the models despite the producers going back to fix other character models in Tales of the Jedi (proving that they can do so but simply refuse to properly represent Temuera's features in the characters that should all look like him).

Temuera Morrison as Jango Fett, compared to clone trooper Dogma

The example above helps point out some of the issues with the clone models. The profile of the face, the shape of the nose, chin and ears, the bone-cheek prominence and even the brow ridge is incorrect.

The shape of the lips and eyebrows are the only parts of the model that look right. The eyes are almost correct if not for their size and coloration. This is less of a stylistic choice like many claim, and more obviously an attempt to make the clones's features resemble less of those of a Polynesian man and more of an Euro-centric man.

Cody is another excellent example of comparison because he was directly portrayed by Tem as well, and thus his model in the show is more blatantly incorrect in the way it was depicted. Down to both the features I mentioned above and also his height being needlessly exaggerated to make him look more "intimidating" (the wikia lists all standard clones as being 6 feet tall despite Tem being 5'7").

Commander Cody as he appears in ROTS compared to his TCW Model

And then we have Clone Force 99...

Clone Force 99 aka the Bad Batch

Newbie Anon, you'd need to be blind not to see the physical discrepancies between Jango Fett and the Bad Batch. The only member that looks remotely like a clone is Wrecker who unfortunately draws heavy inspiration from the Hulk...

The Hulk... Let that sink in.

Even Echo who was a standard clone prior to his capture barely looks like a clone anymore, and the insistence on keeping him looking the way he does while justifying it as medical in nature is offensive in many ways (both towards poc and the disabled) especially when Echo was most definitely treated very poorly by the writing team (dehumanized on various occasions because of his cybernetics all in the name of a "good laugh", portrayed as the broody "killjoy" that does nothing but complain and argue with Hunter, missing the point entirely on his character which we'd gotten to know long before cf99 were a thing, just to then toss him away when they no longer wanted to focus on anyone but TBB exclusive characters).

Their designs are atrocious examples of whitewashing and the fandom has been divided on this topic for a long long time now.

There's those who likely don't understand what the problem is, which doesn't make them dumb mind you. Not everyone who watches a show is super connected to a fandom or with this kind of debate. A show is a show, animated or not, and it's watched and sometimes not spared a second glance. And since TBB is mostly aimed at kids it's mostly kids who are watching it, and the issues pass over their heads because... Well they're kids and they're still learning. No harm in that at all, eventually they'll grow up and grow wiser (or not, sometimes that's just how these things happen).

There's those who have pointed this out time and time again, arguing that they should look more like clones because it makes no sense that they look so wildly different from the rest. Especially when the explanation provided is that their "desirable mutations" made them look like that (which essentially means that being white is a desirable mutation and that's a brutally racist thing to claim).

There's also those who see nothing wrong with their designs and that even consider them hot. Hunter, Tech and Crosshair especially are viewed as the Hotties of the squad and have a massive following of kinnies and girlies who would definitely not mind getting hot and bothered with them.

Which is where the recent discourse kind of starts off...

But not as unexpectedly as you'd think. More, it happened because of something I suspect is far too big of a coincidence to ignore. The overall timing matches up with the recent outcry at least.

So, there's this company called Sideshow. It's a figures/collectibles/merchandise company that has been producing high quality star wars figures for a while now. They take pride in making as accurate a facial sculpt as possible, and over the years they have improved tremendously especially when portraying characters who have Tem's features (mostly thanks to Hot Toys who've improved the original sculpts they were using).

A comparison between the original Sideshow captain Rex sculpt vs the more recent Hot Toys version

Commander Wolffe's two much older face sculpts compared to Commander Cody's more recent face sculpt

Clone trooper Domino Twins face sculpt compared to the Jango Fett face sculpt

ARC trooper Domino Twins face sculpt compared to the ARC trooper Jesse face sculpt

Sideshow and Hot Toys are undeniably good at what they do in terms of sculpting the faces of these characters. They've done a lot of improving and while some of the skin tones are still a little off off on occasion (especially in Rex who's lighter hair color automatically makes his skin tone look even more pale than it already does), you can't exactly say they don't look like the source material.

When it comes to quality figures, the fandom was of course pleased when Sideshow and Hot Toys started working on a TBB line where the figures had facial sculpts that matched Tem more closely than their show counterparts.

The first three figures of the TBB line to be unveiled

Obviously there's still issues (especially on the skin tone department) but you can see Tem's features more easily in Hunter and Echo. In Crosshair's case he seems more like he's related to the clones rather than being a clone himself (he looks like he could be the son of a clone) but at the very least the shape of the eyes, brows and ears is a more accurate match than what his model looks like in the show.

It's not perfect. But the fact Sideshow and Hot Toys tried to make them look like clones made a lot of people happy that there was someone in the companies trying. So when Wrecker and Tech's facial sculpts were announced everyone was excited to see what the end result would be like.

The Wrecker face sculpt revealed at long last

They managed quite well with Wrecker aside from how pale he looks. I'm very grateful they didn't try to make his brow and jawline thicker to make him look "meaner" or more brutish.

The Tech sculpt on the other hand...

The Tech face sculpt

They managed to get the ears and shape of the head right... But the rest is most definitely not at all what a clone should look like. I draw attention towards the shape and size of the lips, nose, brows and eyes specifically (coupled with his lighter hair colour and his hairline being quite receded and it's even worse to look at). The balance is way off to the point they manage to make him most definitely look like a basic white guy in altered clone armour.

This was a blow to people who were hopeful that the figure would make him resemble Temuera a little more like what they'd done to the others. It just didn't work for Tech and people were rightfully frustrated with it.

However, as soon as this was brought up there was a spark of "What's wrong? I thought you said Tech was hot :)" arguments with people laughing over the "Tech Girlies" getting what was coming to them for thinking their whitewashed pretty boy was suddenly less attractive than what they previously thought.

Now I could be wrong, it could have nothing to do with the figure reveals. I'm not very good at keeping up to date with fandom discourse because I mostly don't have the energy to care anymore (I'm here for a good time, I know my own convictions and where I stand morally, I don't need to constantly argue and moan about it when instead I could just pass along information and make my own stuff to share with the people who're here to have fun with me, I am not morally bound to star wars nor would I ever dare equate my enjoyment of the fandom to something like a marriage commitment because that's honestly ridiculous). But I donno Newbie Anon...

The timing seems too much of a coincidence and this fandom is notorious for starting fights very easily. Tech's figure coming out as the ugly duckling of the bunch and setting off a war between people who are genuinely disappointed the sculpt is bad, the Tech fangirls, and anyone who's just eager to pick a fight with everyone else, wouldn't really surprise me much.

I've seen shit like this happen in every fandom I've been. It's a matter of getting used to it and learning to pick your fights more wisely. Getting worked up about fandom discourse will only burn you out faster than you can say "oh bother".

[yuttikkele]

yeah i really enjoyed the final day miraculous episodes, but here are the things I thought should've happened. long post, spoilers under the cut:

I feel like it would’ve been good for Adrien to come in at some point and ACTUALLY face off against his father instead of his girlboss doing it for him. Maybe him not knowing about his father will lead to more interesting scenarios in the future, but I felt like this season was REALLY building up Adrien’s freedom and HIM HIMSELF talking to his dad and conquering his oppressor, so I just think him actually getting to see why his dad’s been ignoring him for so long and fighting against that would’ve been good. BUT if these next seasons completely ignore all the terrible things Gabriel did, and Adrien actually continues to think his father was great instead of tackling those issues and making them interesting plot points, I AM GOING TO RIOT. WORST CASE SCENARIO.

In addition to Adrien conquering his father, and along the lines of overcoming and continuing to improve by looking forward, I think Gabe should’ve faded to dust. No wish being made. Now, I think they just REALLY wanted to show the wish making process, which ok it was pretty cool, so MAYBE Ladybug will like, revert all of this. But the WHOLE thing of the show was that you don’t need to go back and change things, you gotta keep looking forward (meet the robinsons is SCHOOLING you rn, astruc) and improve with your own human qualities. Like, you just showed us ladybug and chat noir LOST. After everything, they LOST. And this was supposed to be the FINAL ending??? “Oh, but the world is so much better!” YEAH. OF COURSE THE WORLD IS BETTER WITHOUT GABRIEL AGRESTE. HE IS A TERRIBLE HUMAN BEING. BUT, HE WON. THE VILLAIN WON AND HE GOT REWARDED FOR IT. bro the heroes didn’t only just LOSE, the whole MORAL OF THE SHOW IS LOST. “Oh, things are so much better now that the villain WON and MADE A WISH. btw guys did you know that doing TERRIBLE HORRIFIC THINGS makes the world a better place teehee!” GABE SHOULD’VE DISINTEGRATED.

And the show wouldn’t have been bad if Adrien didn’t have a family! It would’ve been interesting! He has to move on through life knowing the truth of his father, mother, Nathalie, AND himself while his father, mother, and Nathalie are DEAD, and that’s okay! I mean, he wouldn’t actually not have a family. He has Gorilla, but if that’s not enough, one of the other families could’ve adopted him! You COULD introduce a whole new family that would adopt him. Or, Amilie and Felix could move to France to live with Adrien, so then Felix and Kagami could be closer together! Just avoiding that problem altogether and having Adrien never know about his father is HORRIBLE because we’ve already found out in this series that lying about stuff like that doesn’t work out. And we’ve found out that just MOVING FORWARD and knowing that you can live with mistakes and become better is the WHOLE STORY.

And I’m starting to realize that miraculous does NOT like its own lesson that’s being taught. Chloe wasn’t allowed to move on and become better EVEN though she was given the chance. You can CREATE a character that’s not supposed to be redeemed, but don’t redeem them and then TAKE IT BACK. Miraculous, instead of teaching to “keep moving forward,” is instead teaching that “instead of living with mistakes to make you stronger, you should go back in time and fix them for the best results!” Which we already know is WRONG and not true at all. I know I know, there will probably be more mess-ups as a result of the wish that they just didn’t show, but what Gabe wanted came true, and that’s still terrible. Showing that the heroes won means so much, and I know it’s not the end of the series, but this IS the end of Gabriel Agreste, and showing that the heroes triumphed over him just means so much. And they didn’t. He won, and the heroes didn’t stop him, and he’ll get what’s coming for him, but the fact is that the heroes didn’t stop him. Or, maybe he won’t get what’s coming for him! Gabe doesn’t have to deal with whatever’s going to happen now that he’s made a wish since he’s dead! He even got to hold his wife one more time. Oh, but, he doesn’t have to see how MUCH he hurt his son, his assistant, and everyone around him.

Listen, the consistency of miraculous is not.. the best, but they should at LEAST be consistent in the lesson that is being taught through the story. And I know, they might fix it in the next seasons, and I hope they do! Because even though this didn’t go as I thought it would, it still has a LOT of potential, and I just really hope miraculous doesn’t pull a “miraculous” and throw all that potential away and put it to waste.

I do have a few questions that I hope will be answered tho! Like, I thought a wish made everyone forget that a wish happened. Like “that’s just how it’s always been” but only the kwamis know. But marinette seems to know what happened? And I thought a wish sorta, reset the whole timeline. Like you wouldn’t be able to go back, cause then you could just go back in time and stop a wish from happening. But instead it sorta seems like.. it’s part of the timeline? Cause the time travelers go back in time from what I’m assuming is this “rewritten” future. And everyone thinks Gabe helped ladybug defeat monarch so like, is this a new timeline or did the Thing happen and marinette was like “well I’m not gonna tell them the truth” and instead told everyone that Gabriel helped ladybug? Well, marinette did say she “only saw the miraculous and the rings” so I guess that’s what happened?? The other thing is, I could just be all wrong about ALL of this and marinette DID find a way to stop Gabe, though with the whole universe cataclysm-ing, that seems unlikely..

Yeah it just doesn’t make sense, but I’m sure they’ll explain it.

[lunarreverb]

I just finished the new epilogue! I enjoyed it a lot! Long thoughts about videogame storytelling mechanics generally but also the epilogue too:

Honestly, what a treat. It is so difficult not to be charmed by this game over and over, and the love Larian keeps pouring into it. And while we could 'well actually' about how the original ending was rushed and how all of this stuff should have been in there from the jump or that we should actually also be getting all of the cut content and all of that - I mean, I wouldn't be UNHAPPY if they restored more cut stuff and kept giving us more and more and more - but I can't find it in me to be too upsetti spaghetti with anything we're 'missing' now, as of getting the epilogue, the way that something like the ending of Mass Effect 3 made me...upsetti spaghetti with meatballs. And maybe it's because BG3 landed on me in a different time in my life, or maybe it's because even though it's technically a sequel in a series, it didn't wind me up with anticipation the way the finale of a firmly stated trilogy did. In any case I guess right now I just feel content. BG3 has been a precious and joyful journey, little bugs, snags and all.

(Except with the way spawn Astarion gets treated when the sun lands on him at the docks, that's still so fucking rude, but being able to see him thriving in the epilogue soothes that hurt.)

But! the epilogue being set after a time skip also has me thinking about one of the other minor hangups I had about the main story of BG3, that I have largely been happy to forgive since I imagine the challenges of balancing storytelling and videogame mechanics are just, a LOT - but I sometimes felt pacing of things in BG3 was a bit unintuitive? Or unnatural? All of the adventures the party had and the amount of character growth I witnessed seemed miles out of sync with the number of days that I was manually toggling with long rests. This was especially true in my first, doomed playthrough, when I made the rookie mistake of rationing my Long Rests really hard, and I missed out on so so sooo many scenes and completely bungled starting the Astarion romance. It had literally just been a few ‘days’ that my party had known each other when I got to the tiefling party, after all, surely I wouldn’t need to lock in my romance with someone by this 'early game' event? Nevermind how may in-game hours it had been?

(That first playthrough attempt was a disaster for so many reasons, not least of all because I didn’t even find Astarion right away on my first attempt searching the beach. Complete dumpster fire. While I think I am grateful that I skipped EA so the whole story could be fresh to me, I still wonder if having a quick jog through the Act 1 map before committing to a 'real' playthrough would have spared my directionally-challenged ass a lot of grief.)

And I don't know how one would go about fixing this 'mismatch' necessarily, or even if it's even altogether important to get hung up on that. It's less of an issue in other games that invent little, blind gaps between events - non-open worlds, where your marker moves along a map between locations of interest and you may imagine to your liking the amount of time that has passed off-stage. Or, games where the day-night cycle occurs independently of your actions. I don't think the latter necessarily suits a game like BG3 where choice is king, but I wonder if there could have been more places to imply time passing 'between' regions, after events... I don't know! Maybe that's not right either. I'm just saying there's no way the owlbear cub should've grown all the way up in what must've been a few actual weeks? Maybe?

ANYWAY, tangent aside - the epilogue is precious, and my major point is that I appreciate that there's a timeskip in there. It really felt like the characters had some realistic space to grow and make personal progress and I'm so happy for all of them. Halsin's duck almost made me cry, guys, for real.

...um. Happy for everyone, except Gale. I really fucked up with Gale in my Tav run. Honestly, he is so fascinating because I simultaneously feel multiple ways about him, and he's been an entertaining challenge to figure out roleplaying around. I like him as a character on paper, and I want wholesome things for him, but this face is how my Tav feels about him even as a god:

"Fucking wizards, man."

Anyway, I still have to finish my run with my Gale-mancing Durge, so I can look forward to this interaction going better with a regular-flavor Gale when I get there. I was in honesty kinda running out of steam to finish my Durge run, but this new patch is kind of giving me a boost for it.

I'm ALMOST tempted even to do another run just with my old Tav again, maybe on a harder difficultly, for shits and giggles. Or an Origin character run. Or something else! Faerûn is my oyster!

[larcenywrites]

And which one is your favorite? 👀

NOT AGAIN AH I wanna go for young but I DONT KNOW BECAUSE LIKE- GAH there’s so much to unpack there and then when I say one, I’m like “oh, but x has these qualities too which I love writing about” uuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhh I think still young only because that’s something that can be played around with a little more I feel like? Like that’s such a clean slate to draw on because there’s not as much info there as opposed to the older Tony we all know very well and know what’s out of character or what he has or hasn’t done! Like of course there’s still some things we know for sure about his younger self and certain things would only make sense A Certain Way, but for the most part anyone can interpret him in many different ways and pretty much all of it can make sense! And I do think that’s neat and fun :D

But it’s also interesting to think and write about, well, Iron Man! Because there’s a lot that can also be unpacked and interpreted there! From trauma and domestic life to juggling happiness and health- because that’s a much more complicated life! But I love to write and think about him pre!iron man as well, but not like I would write younger Tony. While he’s still been that billionaire playboy CEO but not quite yet Iron Man. There’s plenty to try and sift through there too- Especially if you wanna analyze how he made it to that point and why he acts like that! And through the power of fiction, we can theorize and create a world where Tony had some better help along the way in those younger years that could’ve prevented that altogether.

Overall it’s hard to choose because this character is so so dynamic and lovely but at the same time still open to so much interpretation! But that’s just if we’re talking about nothing more than the interest in writing and interpreting.

Our younger version here is obviously still pretty experienced, though still with emotional distress that shows up during a hard fucking as much as during the willing vulnerability of a sweet forehead kiss. He’s still learning (in many different ways) and it can be shown in, well, many different ways! He’s simply more overpowering than dominating, and trying to find release and comfort and even love in these physical pursuits. As we head into those older versions it still gets just as dynamic. Probably mostly uncaring and unattached for a while- this time it really is nothing more than stress relief and perhaps the fucked up triumph of an asshole with a reputation to keep. Anything more is too vulnerable now and too much of a hassle, not after everything that’s happened and the reworking of that newly fragiled mind that built walls to unfortunately keep the bad stuff in and keep the good stuff out (though it wasn’t entirely his own doing- and not consciously at least). Maybe there’s a fleeting thought here and there. Someone’s hung around in his bed a few too many times and he starts to think it could be a nice thing to have. That maybe he should actually try to be… something. But that sounds like a long commitment and fixing up all those internal issues and then the thought becomes exhausting. He’s too tired. He’s too busy. He doesn’t have that kind of time- hell, he could do so much more with all that time. All he has to do is cut off that contact and go on with what’s always been normal and what’s always worked.

But then, something happens. No, unfortunately nothing good. Something about a military demonstration gone wrong, terrorist-inhabited caves in the desert, being kidnapped for forced labor, something not mentioned but not well hidden under his shirt… No one needs to know anymore than that. For the first time since 1991, the fear of a future unknown combined with a another youth wasted spent on autopilot catches up to him, but this time his pursuit for peace of mind isn’t quite so destructive (or is it?). And now, faced with mortality and morality, so many switches are flipping in that head and if he doesn’t try to do these things now he might not ever be able to. Maybe he can make room for love, finally- no, he can. And whoever’s unlucky enough to end up in his arms, he’ll be sure to show his gratitude in every way.

We skip ahead and hopefully by now he’s with someone, because dear god does he need an anchor he can trust and it would be far too difficult to find one now. It would be far to difficult to deal with all of this all on his own. The stress of the world is quite literally on his shoulder, and the distress is evident in the way he works and the way he walks. The only safe space left is in his own home and preferably in the arms of that anchor. The distress is evident in the way he hides and the way he holds. He can’t control the sky falling out or even his own damn team or even his own weapons at times, but here he can control the narrative and spill out the day’s trauma, and in return replace it with something more gentle and sweet when he decides it’s safe to give up that control again- but this time on his own terms.

He’ll never quite escape the trouble and heartbreak that’s haunted him since childhood. Maybe it’s because he’s never actually changed? Is he the same person now as he used to be? Does he want to be? Do others want him to be? He can rethink it all he wants and what could have been, but perhaps the story would’ve always came out the same. Maybe it boils down to who’s story could be manipulated the most, or who deserves more to have their unfortunate tale mended by the end. As much as I would love to show him how to love and make those early tragedies and hardships easier to bear and without all those bad habits and isolated walls, I find it hard to say that I wouldn’t just as easily give everything up to clean those wounds in a warm bath and finally bring comfort to a hero that doesn’t want to be strong anymore.

Which one is your favorite?

[taiblogcomics]

The Way the Cookie Crumbles

Hey there, carrot juice. You know, Thanksgiving should be a more interesting holiday. My schedule means it always intersects with my update day, while stuff like Halloween and Crimbus only come up, like, one in seven years. But, like, while I am in favour of eating and being thankful, there's only so much you can write about those as a comic book plot. As such, despite being a major holiday where I live, there's little to do to celebrate it for this blog. And furthermore, ponies don't even have an equivalent like Nightmare Night or Hearth's Warming~

Anyway, here's the cover:

Okay, despite my Thanksgiving spiel, this cover does feature baking. And golly, those cookies do look good. And cute! But do they have specific cookie cutters for all the Mane Six? Maybe Rainbow Dash and Applejack's could be doubled up, but everypony else is unique in shape and too uniform to be individually cut. …Izzy. Izzy, get your hoof off the cookie, it's going to smudge. I appreciate you bringing the Rarity cookie into frame because we otherwise couldn't see it, but put your damn dirty hooves on the floor, please. I guess that's what Zipp and Pipp are doing in the background, making more icing to fix all the Pinkie cookies you've ruined.

So you remember last issue was a true crime podcast centering around a bake-off. This one continues into the actual bake-off, which is now open to non-earth ponies for the first time this year. So naturally, all the friends in the Mane 5 have teamed up as a single team. And of course, Sunny establishes right away that she's just happy to bake with her friends, no matter the results of the competition. Oh good, so that won't be the completely obvious lesson at the end, right? Coz if this was on the show, you know that's what it'd boil down to.

Apparently, the bake-off is more than just a free-for-all competition. There's, like, a whole theme and such they have to follow, like Iron Chef or something. So the fact that Pansy won four years in a row with her signature cupcakes is even more impressive. Anyways, after being introduced to our judges (which one's going to be the snobby Simon Cowell expy, I wonder?), they reveal the theme for this year: baked with love. Oh boy, one of those nebulous themes instead of something concrete like "fruit filling" or "concrete".

Izzy, Sunny, and Pipp all voluntee that they have an idea, and they opt to hear Sunny's first, since she knows the competition best. She tells a cute anecdote about some jam-filled cookies her dad used to make. Man, we don't hear enough about Sunny's dad, I really like exploring that part of her life. Hitch remembers those, noting how they always made him feel welcome when he'd follow the smell to Sunny's house and drop by for a bite. Big trouble, though: they didn't actually bring any jam with them. Maybe they should bake with ingredients they actually have.

To that end, Pipp whispers an idea to Zipp, who lights up in delight. So they have a parental anecdote to share as well. True to her nature as an online influencer, Pipp prefaces her recipe with a long personal story about her mother and how they used to make cloud beignets together. While they were baking, they'd play charades and other games together. And while she's telling the exact measurements of how they were made and sprinkled delicately, Zipp wisely rushes her to the end, since they are on a timer and everything~

Speaking of that timer, though, that puts a bit of a kink in the whole beignets plan. There's not enough time to chill the dough. So that one's out as well. Now it falls to Izzy, who does not have a heartwarming tale of a parental figure. Instead, hers is told more like a Frankenstein movie, with herself as the mad doctor. And the unholy act she performs is a batch of brownies she bakes with a dragon pepper inside. I have had Tabasco chocolate before, so it could work. …If Izzy had remembered to bring her emergency pepper, which she hasn't. Of course.

When Pipp questions whether those would even have been good in the first place, Izzy replies that despite what you might think, the differing flavours manage to balance each other. In that way, it's kind of like their friendship. And thus Sunny is struck by a sudden inspiration. They'll make some basic-ass cookies, but each of them will add a favourite ingredient. This will represent them, and make an all-new recipe representing their friendship and unity. They'll call 'em "friendship cookies" or something. The name's not important, it's enough they have an idea.

And this could be a potential for disaster. But somehow, everybody makes sensible choices for things to add, even Izzy. She's picked sprinkles, Hitch added oats, Zipp and Pipp supplied peanut butter and chocolate (respectively), and Sunny chose violence. I mean, raisins. Basically the same thing. It's kinda like Trail Mix: The Cookie. Sunny explains all this to the judges as she presents them. The harshest comment she gets is "this is too many flavours", which is pretty good as far as baking show judges go. The second tells her there's a start, but it could do with tweaking. And the third just straight-up likes them. I guess that's not bad!

So none of the judges were wowed. That's all right, because the five of them all sure do. And that's what really matters. In the end, Dahlia wins the competition for the second year in a row. Check out last week's review if you've forgotten her whole deal! And so the comic ends with the five friends taking the remaining cookies to have a picnic on the beach. In fact, the last page is completely wordless, just a full splash page of them enjoying their cookies together, along with all the ones they didn't get to bake during the competition. Imagine bringing four baked goods on a picnic and nothing else. That's some heckin' prep time~

This is actually kind of an interesting follow-up to the previous issue. Rather than being a direct sequel, it kind of sets up an element in passing, then explores that same element in a different way. Both stories revolve around the Maretime Bay Bake-Off, but one is a missing persons case and one is a cooking competition. Kind of a neat way to keep continuity while both are stand-alone stories. Works really well here! Anyways, I think this was a very nice issue. And while not deliberately a Thanksgiving issue (this was published back in June), it does speak to family, working together, and baked goods. Seems pretty fitting to the holiday to me~

[cjsinkythoughts]

The Conversation

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 7661 (Don’t come at me - you guys asked for it)

Warnings: !FATWS Spoilers!, Cursing, Fluff, Feelings, I Dunno What Else, This One’s Pretty Chill, Except The Ending, But You’ll See When You Get There

A/N: Here it is! I was hesitant about posting it because that means we’re getting closer to the end and I’m such a nostalgic bitch! I’m definitely gonna cry next week when the last episode comes out! Anyways, I’ve got a few things to talk about:

I think this is one of the most important chapters I’ve written and I’m excited to see your reactions to it. It is longer, but you guys asked for that, so you got it! Also, I’m loving the Asks, Comments, and Reblogs. I try to respond to all of them. I have work in a little bit, so I won’t be able to until after, but I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Ask me anything; about my series, the show, any of the movies, personal stuff, I really don’t care. If you’re not comfortable, that’s totally fine! Every like means so much to me!

I know it’s not the end yet - we’ve got one more episode and a list of One Shots to get through - but there’s a definite feeling of this series coming to an end, and I just want to thank you all for the support and love you’ve been giving it! I’ve really enjoyed writing these characters and this story! It’s very, very special to me and I’m glad I’ve been able to share it with you lovely people!

On that note, be kind to yourselves and others! Thank you again for reading! Excuse any mistakes - this isn’t beta’d! Enjoy and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT! (Sorry for the gifs I just love them so much and he’s so pretty and this part is technically two parts so...you get four!)

“Louisiana.” Bucky hummed, looking around the airport.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re not gonna find anything interesting about Louisiana in here, doofus. Let’s call an Uber.”

“An Ooper? What the hell is an Ooper?”

You giggled, shaking your head and grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the luggage carousel. “Uber. It’s like…a taxi service. But there’s an app on your phone to get a driver instead of waiting for one on the street.”

“Oh.” He blinked, tilting his head. “That’s…helpful.”

You laughed again, stopping in front of Carousel 3, where your flight from New York was assigned. You went back to New York to grab a bag with clean clothes and other necessities, along with taking a real shower for once. It was nice to be back in the States, as much as you loved traveling. It’d been a crazy few weeks and you were ready to just relax.

“Do you think there were any problems with Sammy’s present?”

Bucky shook his head. “Nah. Especially considering they know who we are.”

You snickered at his slight grumble. They had had…problems at the other two airports - first the one in Sokovia then JFK in New York - considering Bucky’s entire arm was metal. It’d taken a full hour before they actually let you go, and by that time they had to give you a new plane because yours had left.

“Seriously. Who else has a fucking metal arm and has 1917 listed as their birth year on their Driver’s License?” You giggled again. That was also true. They thought he was messing with them. It wasn’t until you stepped in a few minutes after they asked Bucky to step to the side, seeing Bucky get frustrated, that they realized Bucky wasn’t pulling their legs.

“Well, we’re here now and that’s all that matters.”

He nodded in agreement, watching for your bags, his hand finding yours when he realized how many people there were. “Do you know where he lives? I didn’t even think about it.”

“Yeah, don’t worry. He invited me over once. I declined, but I saved the address.”

“He…invited you over?” Bucky frowned.

You gave him a look. “I’m sure he invited you, too. You just never checked his texts.”

He licked his lips, tilting his head. “Yeah, no, I know, but I mean…why didn’t you go? Weren’t you two just talking about how you wanted to meet his nephews the other day?”

“Yeah, but I had gotten a tip on Wanda at the time and I didn’t want to miss the chance that she was there. He told me it was fine. I still felt really bad. I could tell he was a bit disappointed. I think it was one of the boys’ birthdays. Or something. I don’t remember. Is that bad? Yeah, probably. I really should remember. Maybe I should keep track of birthdays on my calendar or something.”

“Doll.” You looked up to find him giving you a magnificent smile, teeth and all. “You’re rambling.”

“Oh. Am I? Sorry. I didn’t realize.”

He shook his head quickly, squeezing your hand. “Don’t apologize. It’s cute. I’m just not used to you talking so much. You kinda did on the phone sometimes.”

You shrugged, pushing down the heat crawling up your neck at his words. “I rambled a lot to Steve.”

“Oh.”

His face fell, making you scrunch your eyebrows up in confusion, nudging him slightly to grin at him. “It’s nice to have someone to ramble to again, though.” There was that smile again. You were stopped from saying anything more when you noticed some kids pointing and chattering excitedly at a gleaming silver box coming around the corner on the conveyor belt. “There it is.”

He looked over his shoulder, dropping your hand and stepping over to grab it, lifting it effortlessly. You didn’t know what was in it or how heavy it was, but you were sure it felt like a feather to him.

“Alright. Got our bag, sweetheart?” You lifted up the duffle in answer and he jerked his head towards the doors. “Let’s get outta here, then. Call that Booper or whatever.”

“U-B-E-R! Ub-er!” You threw your hands up, following him as he started walking towards the exit. “What’s so hard about it?!”

He just gave you a little smirk over his shoulder.

***************

Bucky kept asking the Uber driver questions about his job. The guy was super nice and patient the whole time, a thick southern accent lacing his answers. Southern hospitality was no joke and apparently had no limit as Bucky asked about his experiences, listening intently and telling him his own stories of taxi drivers in NYC.

When you got to Sam’s sister’s house, Bucky, being Bucky, tipped the driver half of what you paid for the ride, thanking him for his time and energy, before getting out.

“You’re so adorable, you know that?” You teased him as you stepped up the porch stairs and knocked on the door.

He rolled his eyes, a tint of pink dusting across his cheeks. “He was nice.”

You hummed at his defense, the smile never leaving your features. After a moment, Bucky raised his fist to knock again. “Jesus Christ! Don’t fucking knock their door down!” You grabbed his wrist and lowered it.

“Sorry. I forget sometimes.” Bucky informed you absentmindedly,  tilting his head to peek in the window. “I don’t think anyone’s home.”

“They’re probably at the docks, then.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “The docks?”

You nodded, gesturing for him to follow you. “Yeah. They have a boat, remember? He talked about it last week.”

“Oh right. The one he’s trying to convince his sister not to sell.”

“Yeah.” You confirmed. “I’m pretty sure it’s that way. I don’t know how far, but we can call the Uber back-”

Bucky scrunched up his face and shook his head. “Nah. I don’t wanna bother him again. We can walk.”

You gave him an incredulous look. “It’s literally his job to drive people around.”

“Well, yeah, but what if he’s got other people to drive?”

You lifted his metal knuckles to your lips. “Trust me, Buck, I’m sure he’d rather drive you than anyone else.”

“Thank you?”

Swinging your now linked hands, you gave a firm nod, letting him know it was, in fact, a compliment. “You are so very welcome.”

The walk was a lot longer than you thought it was, and you ended up on Bucky’s back after he kept complaining about how you “shouldn’t be walking this long” and you were “injured” and you “needed rest’”. You’re not sure how a shoulder wound affected your ability to walk, but you relented and let him carry you the rest of the way to stop his whining.

“You forget, you did pull your thigh.”

“That was, like, three weeks ago! Yeesh!”

You finally got to the docks, which were bustling with people. Bucky set you down and raised an eyebrow which you shrugged in reply to, before heading over to where you spotted Sam with a few other older men.

“How do we get it off the truck?” You heard Sam ask, pointing to a large boat engine part in the bed of a beaten up truck. Scoffing as Bucky lifted it up without breaking a sweat, you leaned against the truck. Bucky grunted and set it down, looking at Sam.

“You’re welcome.” What a punk. “Just dropping this off.” Bucky lifted the case and set it where the engine was previously, Sam coming to stand on the opposite side of the truck as you. “You can sign for it and I’ll go.” You snorted, shaking your head, making Bucky shove your shoulder - the uninjured one - playfully. “I called in a favor from the Wakandans.”

Sam looked at you curiously. You shrugged and shook your head. “Don’t look at me, Sammy. He wouldn’t tell me what it is. He’s all hushy hushy about it until you say so.”

Before Sam could reply, there was a squeak and hissing over at the boat where steam was coming from a few pipes.

“Sam!” You knew that was Sarah from pictures Sam showed you. You stayed up by the truck, pulling yourself onto the bed while Sam tried fixing the pipe, Bucky butting in to show him how to do it properly.

“Why didn’t you use the metal arm?”

You saw Bucky lift up said metallic limb. “Well…I don’t always think of it immediately. I’m-I’m right handed.” Letting out a laugh, Bucky turned around and scowled teasingly at you. “And what’re you laughing at?!”

“Nothing!”

“Well then get your ass over here!”

You rolled your eyes, hopping down from the truck as Bucky asked if Sam wanted help with the boat. You leaned against a wooden post, grinning when Sam looked at you.

“I don’t have any plans.”

Sam gave a small smile, jerking his head back. “Yeah.”

You jumped down onto the boat to follow him, looking over your shoulder and stopping with an amused eyebrow raised as Bucky introduced himself to Sarah. “I’m Bucky.”

“Ah…Sarah.”

“Sarah.” Bucky repeated her name, before walking towards you, a grin still on his lips.

“Careful, Barnes. That playboy Steve warned me about is coming out.” You nudged him with a smirk, ignoring the feeling of your stomach dropping.

He rolled his eyes, kissing your head as he passed you and Sam to go where Sam was gesturing. “Don’t worry, Y/N. You’re still my doll.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, falling into step besides you and lowering his voice. “Conversation?”

“Hasn’t happened.” You informed him through clenched teeth as he groaned.

Sam gave you a list of chores that needed to be done to clean up the boat, giving you a quick tour and letting you know where all the tools needed where. You set to work immediately.

Sanding down, replacing old parts, cleaning, polishing and painting over the things that didn’t need replacing. They didn’t let you do any heavy lifting because of your stupid shoulder, but you were still able to help.

Sam had turned on some music for you to listen to, so you danced around the boat while cleaning. Turning your head when you felt a pair of eyes on you, you smiled when Bucky snapped his head back down to the wood he was sanding down.

“Gonna dance, Barnes?”

He looked back over, shaking his head. “Nah. I’m good watching you.”

Rolling your eyes, you got back to work, continuing to bop to the music, fully aware that he was watching you now.

A little while later, you were repainting the edges of the boat orange, when you looked over and noticed Bucky playing around with a paint scraper…sitting right on the edge that you had just finished repainting a few minutes ago.

“Buck!”

He looked over, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back your mischievous grin. Shaking your head, you waved dismissively. “Never mind!”

He gave you a confused sort of pout, before shrugging and continuing to fidget with the tool. It wasn’t until later when he got up to help Sam tear the metal plating off the edge that it came to light with Sam chuckling and raising an eyebrow.

“Sit in something there, Barnes?”

“What?”

Bucky craned his neck back, eyes widening when he saw the orange paint on his ass, contrasting with his jeans. You let out a cackle and he whipped towards you, pointing at you accusingly, although the small uptick of his lips let you know he wasn’t really mad.

“Y/N!”

“No, no, no!” You laughed, sprinting across the deck, shrieking when he grabbed your waist and spun you around. You gasped when he grabbed a paint brush and painted an orange stripe right down the front of your shirt. “James!”

“Justice, sweetheart.” He breathed in your ear with a chuckle.

You shook your head, wiggling out of his hold. “This is a nice shirt!”

“You should’ve thought about that before.” He smirked, crossing his arms. Your eyes caught sight of Sam behind him, who raised an eyebrow and the bucket of paint he was holding. You nodded with a little giggle, making Bucky’s eyes narrow. “What’s so funny over there, do - holy shit!

You guffawed as orange paint dripped down his head, Sam standing innocently behind him with the now empty bucket behind his back. “Samuel!”

“Oops?”

“I’m gonna kill you!”

“Try me old man!”

“Fuck!

“Doll!”

“Oh my God!”

Paint, orange and white since those were the only cans they had out, flew across the deck, paint brushes being used like fencing swords.

You found out too late that wet paint was a little bit slippery and you slid on a huge puddle, sending you, not onto the ground below, but over the side of the edge into the water. 

“Doll!”

“Cher, you good?!” 

The three of you looked at each other, stunned for a moment, before bursting into fits of laughter and you nodded. “I’m good!”

The boys helped you get back up onto the dock, Sarah appearing with towels she conjured up out of thin air. “Let’s get you into dry clothes. Do you have-?”

“We’ve got some. We got a bag.” You told her with a grin, facing the guys. “You two should clean up some, too. Sammy, you’ve got a little something right there.” You pointed to your cheek, his own having a giant white splotch from his temple to his jaw. “And Buck?” You sniggered, gesturing to the whole of him. “You’ve got a lotta something right there.” 

“Ha. Ha.” He looked down. His top was practically tiger print, drenched in orange with white here and there, and his ass still orange as well. His hair, which had been plastered to his forehead, was starting to dry now, and it only made you laugh some more thinking about what a pain it’d be to get it out. For him, at least.

“God. Can’t even have a relaxing day on the boat with you two.” Sam jested once you finished up and joined him and Bucky, who had just finished dumping out some water buckets. Bucky had changed his shirt and it looked like they tried wiping their faces, but Sam still had small lines of white down his face. “How ‘bout a couple of drinks? Surely you can’t ruin that too.”

“Ruin?” You gasped in mock offence. “Sammy! I just made the day more…interesting.”

Sam chuckled, ruffling Bucky’s hair, which still had orange streaks in it. “Let’s go get some beers.”

************

You chatted for a bit, mainly you and Sam with you asking how Sarah and the boys were while Bucky with your legs in his lap, just listening to you two and sipping at his bottle. You had his hand in your own lap, wiping it down with a rag due to the paint that got on it.

“You’re lucky this is vibranium, you know.” You commented off handedly. “If it was your other one, it’d definitely get stained.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Bucky shot back with a teasing grin.

“Sammy’s.”

Sam spluttered. “Wh-what?! You started it!” You laughed, shaking your head.

Falling into a comfortable silence with just the water and birds chirping as your soundtrack, you downed the rest of your drink, which Bucky took as finished. “Well,” you moved your legs to let him stand up. He leaned forwards to clink his bottle against Sam’s and you stood up and stretched. “Gotta catch our flight tomorrow. Get a hotel room for the night.” Sam gave you a look to which you rolled your eyes at as Bucky set down his bottle and grabbed his jacket. “Crash, you know?”

“So you’re just gonna set me up like that, huh?”

“Well I don’t wanna make it weird for your family.”

“Just stay here.” You laughed as Sam babbled on about how nice the people were here, grabbing the jacket Bucky handed to you. It was getting a bit chilly from the breeze on the water and the sun going down. Plus, that water was cold.

“But don’t flirt with my sister.”

You cackled at Bucky’s face, that turned serious, his head shaking. “No.”

“‘Cause if you do I’ll have Carlos cut you up and feed you to the fish.”

“Can’t hold back the dog, Wilson. It’s been stuck in a kennel too long.”

Bucky turned to you, grabbing your jaw and squishing your cheeks together. “You know what? You need to shush. You’ve been snippy all day.”

You just smiled as innocently as you could with your lips being held by his metal fingers. “You’re too fun to mess with.”

He pecked your nose. “As long as I’m the only one you’re messing with. I’ll be right back.” He let you go and spun around, maneuvering around the boat in a way only a trained assassin could do.

“Oh my God, please! Please just put me out of my fucking misery! You’re killing me, cher.”

“What?” You gaped at him.

“Don’t act innocent!” Sam huffed, giving you a pointed look. “If I have to watch you two make googly eyes at you one more fucking day with neither of you doing anything about it-”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh come on, Sammy-”

“Don’t ‘come on, Sammy’ me! And don’t come at me with that ‘he doesn’t like me back’ bullshit. If you think for a second that boy wouldn’t follow you to the depths of the fucking ocean, you’re blind as a bat, woman.”

You shrugged, pushing up the sleeves of Bucky’s too big jacket. “It just…hasn’t come up.”

He deadpanned, shaking his head and standing up. “That’s it. I’m done. You two are driving me insane. I’m gonna lock you in a room until you have the conversation that needs to be had the next time either of you does something stupid.”

“Yikes. That’s gonna be quick.” At his look, your smile dropped and you nodded. “Okay, okay. I’ll…I’ll bring it up later.”

“Tomorrow or nothing.”

“Sam-”

Sam tilted his head, brow creasing. “Is it still Steve? Is that what this is still about? Because he’s gone, and he’s been gone and you need to get over it-”

“No. It’s not…” You sighed. “It clicked the other day. When we were hanging out. Steve left and, yeah, I might always love him, but Bucky…God…I love Bucky, Sam.”

The man grinned proudly. “I’m glad to finally hear you admit it. So what’s the problem?”

“It’s still complicated, right? I mean…he’s his best friend and I’ve never dealt with stuff like this before and-”

Sam’s smile dropped and he groaned again. “Imma head out. I can’t take this. Dumbass and dumberass. I swear to God.” You sniggered a bit as he grumbled, walking towards the ramp to climb off the boat, just as Bucky reappeared.

“Hey-”

“Nope! Not right now, Barnes! I can’t handle it! I can’t!”

Bucky gave you a weird look. “What’d you do?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Nothing.”

“Well, c’mon, doll. Sarah said she’s gonna make gumbo for us, whatever that is.” He held out his hand as you walked over. 

“You’re such a city boy.” You teased lightly, taking his hand and letting him help you pull you onto the dock. You shoved the sleeves of his jackets up again since they slipped from the first time. “Let’s go get some dinner. I’m starving.”

******************

“We have the couch and a mattress we can pull out, I just have to make Sam get it from the attic-”

“That’s alright. The couch is fine.” Bucky waved dismissively while you nodded in agreement.

Sarah raised an eyebrow at you two. “For both of you?”

You blinked, exchanging a look with Bucky, before shrugging and turning back to her. “Yeah.”

“Don’t fight it, Sarah.” Sam peeked out from the hall. “They’ve got a weird relationship.” You stuck your tongue out at the man while Bucky rolled his eyes, dropping your duffle bag by the couch. “How mature, Y/N.” Sam mimicked your action.

“Uhm…okay. Let me set up the couch for you then.”

Once everything was set up, you and Bucky thanking her for dinner - delicious and you’d never seen Bucky smile so much, the boys having kept him highly entertained throughout the meal - and for letting you crash, Sam and Sarah headed to their rooms, the boys already having been tucked in for the night.

“Are you gonna sleep on the floor?” You asked quietly, sitting down on the couch and doing the things for your night routine you didn’t already do in the bathroom.

“I think I’ll be okay.” He sat besides you. “I’ve been doing fine the past week or so.”

You smiled at him. “That’s good. Alright.” You stood up and stretched. “Let me just make sure everything’s in the bag and ready-”

You yelped when his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest, shifting down to lay against the couch’s arm. “Do it in the morning.” He yawned, looking up at you tiredly. “I wanna go to sleep.”

“Then go to sleep, Buck. I’ll be right back.” He shook his head, his hold tightening as he sunk deeper into the couch.

“No. I fall asleep better with you.”

You rolled your eyes but grinned, settling down with your legs between his, your chin resting on his sternum so you could still look at him. He beamed, but you could see the exhaustion settling in, and he grabbed the blanket Sarah left over the back of the couch and draped it across your back, over both of your legs, before his arms crossed snugly under the covers at the small of your back.

“Dinner was nice tonight. I haven’t had a meal cooked like that in ages.” You hummed.

He nodded in agreement. “I think that’s the first time I’ve sat around a table with a family since the 40′s.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Did you like it?”

“Yeah...kinda makes me wish I had my own.”

“Your own what?”

“Family.”

You bit your lip, shyly avoiding his gaze. “You’re my family, Buck.”

A light kiss was pressed to your forehead, his fingers bringing your gaze back to his. “There’s no one else I’d rather have.” The room lapsed into silence again, the clock ticking on the wall, the low sound of crickets outside.

“You have really pretty eyes.” You mumbled, tilting your head slightly as you studied them. They always held so much emotion in them, especially in contrast to when you first met him as Soldat. They matched the water you fell in, and you wouldn’t mind falling over and over into them.

“Yeah, well, you’re just really pretty inside and out, so I think you’ve got me beat, doll.” He whispered back.

“You know who else is pretty? Sarah.”

He nodded with a hum. “That’s true. But I meant what I said. You’ll always be my doll.”

“So you’re not gonna ask her out?”

He gave you a weird look as you traced his sharp jawline absentmindedly. “Nah, sweetheart. It’s just…some harmless flirting. Except on Sam’s part.”

You gave a soft huff of laughter. “Yeah…he’s gonna strangle you. It is nice to see you like that, though. Flirty. Relaxed. Happy.”

“You make me happy, sweetheart.” He hummed, nosing your temple. “The road trip helped. I’m learning everything from you. Maybe not the flirting, but the carefree part.”

You blinked at him, finger stopping for a moment as you thought. “Oh…”

You felt his fingers dance up your spine, making you shiver slightly. “What I would give to know what’s goin’ on inside that pretty lil’ head’a yours, doll.”

“I just think it’s funny you’re learning how to be carefree from me…when I just started learning how to do it myself.”

“Oh yeah?”

You nodded, your finger continuing its path down his jaw. “I think it started with the goats.”

“The goats?”

You nodded again, resting your cheek on his chest, watching your finger move up from his chin. Once you got to the end of his jaw, you lightly scratched his scruff. “In Wakanda. Our goats.” You weren’t looking at him, so you didn’t see the way he physically melted at your words, his eyes going soft, his lips turning up slightly.

“Our goats, huh?”

But your tired brain wasn’t really processing what he said, instead focusing on the features your finger was now tracing - over his lips, up his nose. “You’re pretty too, Buck. Did you know that? Inside and out.”

He craned his neck to kiss your forehead. “Go to sleep, cuddle bug.”

Nodding, you nuzzled into his chest, finger feeling over the bumps and indents on the dog tags resting near your head. You tried going to sleep, but you kept shifting, your mind not shutting off.

“Hey, sleepyhead, I’m trying to, you know, sleep.”

“Sorry.” You apologized meekly. “I just…I dunno. I can’t.”

“Are you comfortable?” He peeked open and eye to look at you questioningly. You nodded. “Is it too hot? We can take the blanket off. I know I’m a walking furnace-”

You shook your head. “No. I don’t know why. I just can’t sleep.”

He licked his lips thoughtfully, before cradling your head and guiding you back down to his chest. “Lay down, sweetheart. Relax.” He stroked your hair, moving his head down to rub circles in your back muscles, pressing down harder when he felt knots. 

You hummed, your eyes closing. “That feels good.”

“Shshsh. Just go to sleep.” His lips pressed against your head once more, lingering a bit longer than they usually do, as you felt yourself drift off. You cuddled his side, throwing a leg over his waist, before nodding off, only barely hearing his words. “Attagirl. There we are.”

******************

“Doll?” You felt a shift underneath you and groaned, your eyes barely cracking open. “Hey, sleepyhead…it’s okay. I’m just gonna slip out from under ya, alright? Gonna go help Sammy with somethin’.”

You raised an eyebrow, letting him move you against the cushions as he sat up on the edge of the couch. “Sammy?”

“Yeah.” He bent over and kissed your cheek. You stretched out your limbs, about to rub your eyes, when he stopped you, kissing the inside of your wrists. “No. Not you, doll. Go back to sleep.” 

“Bu’...’m gonna help.” You slurred out, looking at him with confused, squinty eyes.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s okay. Rest. You can help when you wake up again. Okay?” You mumbled out an “okay”, bringing the covers up to your chin and snuggling deeper into the cushions. “There ya go, cuddle bug. Good girl.” There was another kiss, one to your temple this time, before you slipped back into unconsciousness.

******************

The next time you woke up was because of a clatter in the kitchen. You yawned and sat up, stretching, eyebrows furrowing when you realized Bucky wasn’t with you. It took you a moment to remember your conversation, which you half thought you dreamt.

“Boys!”

“Sorry!”

You chuckled at the shouts, rubbing your eyes. “I am so sorry!” Sarah apologized, looking over at you from the stove. Trying to make the boys breakfast before school. Do you want anything? Eggs? Cereal? Toast?”

“Uh, cereal’s fine.” You stretched out your back again, before throwing back the covers and standing up, a little shakily.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where Sam went, would you?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Uh, I think him and Bucky went to fix something on the boat. I don’t for sure, though.”

Sarah groaned. “He probably went to fix the stupid water pump which doens’t need fixing. Dumbass.”

You chuckled, padding over into the kitchen. “Yeah. I just work with him. I can’t imagine growing up with him.”

“Trust me; some days you want to throw him in a box and send him out to sea. Bowls are in that cupboard.”

You snickered, moving over to grab a bowl from the cupboard she pointed to. “That’s how I feel with Bucky. Sam is less often, but when those two get together…it’s a full zoo.”

She laughed at that, nodding as she got out the milk and a few boxes of cereal for you to choose from, handing you a spoon. “That I believe.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

You started pouring your cereal, watching in slight amusement as she got the boys ready for school. “Bus is here! Get out the door! Bye! Love you! Make sure you take those extra lunches to-!”

“Yeah, mom! We know! Love you too!”

You gave a slight smirk as she huffed, looking around the kitchen at the pans and dishes left out. “Kids, huh?”

She gave you a smile. “Yeah. They’re a handful, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything. How about you? Any thoughts of kids?”

“Me?” Your eyes widened, nearly choking on your food. “Oh God no. Not right now, at least. I don’t even have a solid house right now. My life’s too off the walls for that.”

“And Bucky?”

You raised an eyebrow as she leaned on the counter. “Bucky? What about Bucky?”

“Does he want kids?”

“Uh…I dunno.” You shrugged, clearing your throat as you remembered your talk last night. “Kinda makes me wish I had my own.” You quickly pushed his words aside. “He hasn’t told me.”

“Wait, wait. You two…aren’t together then?”

You blinked, your eyes widening again. “Together? Me and Bucky? No…why? Did Sam say something?”

Her expression morphed into one of disbelief, crossing her arms. “Sam didn’t say anything. You guys did. Are you seriously expecting me to believe you aren’t together?”

“We’re not! I mean - he was flirting with you yesterday-”

“Right, okay. Honey, that’s flirting. And it’s harmless. The way he follows you like a puppy and you look at him like he hung the stars? That’s feelings. And that’s a lot more impactful than flirting.”

You frowned in contemplation. It was really that obvious? You were really that blind? This whole time? You knew Sam knew - but you just figured that’s because he’s been there since it started. And Sharon knew for the same reason. But Sarah? The woman you just met the day prior and had barely had a conversation with?

“It’s, uh…” You chewed on your cheek, swirling your cereal around. “It’s complicated.”

Sarah didn’t look impressed. “Do you like him?”

“I’m kinda in love with him-”

She shrugged, not letting you finish your bashful statement. “Then I don’t see what’s complicated about it.”

And that was that. She turned to clean up breakfast, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You thought it was more complicated than that. I mean…you were in love with your best friend. Who left you. With the guy you had feelings for who just so happened to be your best friend/crush’s best friend. And now you were completely in love with your best friend’s best friend, but your best friend still had a piece of your heart.

But…you loved Bucky. And he was here. And Steve was not. And when you put it that way…you guess it wasn’t so complicated after all.

******************

You snickered as you walked up behind Sarah, the woman berating the men for not leaving the water pump along like she asked.

“Hi, Sarah.”

Sam shot Bucky a warning look, who grinned, but you were surprised to see Sarah ignore him, sending you a knowing glance instead, before turning back to Sam. “I told you specifically that the water pump was not the problem, and yet, here you are.”

“Yep, Samuel.”

You chuckled, Bucky shooting you a wink. “Yeah, Samuel.”

Sam narrowed his eyes at you, turning to Sarah. “In our defense, you were supposed to be done long before you woke up.”

You nearly facepalmed at his “defensive” and you were trying so hard to hold back laughing as she told Sam off, sending them away.

“I don’t wanna hear a peep from you.” Sam pointed at you, but that only made your chortles come out, and you didn’t even bother hiding them. “She’s a very mean person.”

“It’s tough love.”

You giggled as they started arguing, slipping an arm around their waists, their arms instinctually coming up to your shoulders.

“Oh my God. A prowess?”

“Yes, Y/N. A prowess.”

“You know, maybe if you someone let me help-”

“Hey, woah! You were tired! I let you sleep! I was being nice!”

“Too late now. I’ll be lucky if Sarah lets me within a hundred feet of it!”

“She got you so good, Sammy!”

“I agree with Buck for once! You’re too snippy right now! And c’mon man! Stop flirting with my sister!”

“It’s my natural charm.”

“Charm? What charm?”

“Ouch, doll! That one hurt!”

****************

“Okay.” You stepped out of the bathroom, walking over to the couch and setting the bag down on it. “I’ve got everything packed. We’ve got a little over an hour until we need to head out which gives you two time to go set something up for Sammy and maybe even a bit or training before we leave.” 

Bucky frowned. “You’re not gonna come out?”

“I will in a bit. I just got a phone call I need to take.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Government call?”

You gave a mocking smile. “Can you guess what they want to talk about? It’s okay. I’ll survive. It’s only a phone call, so I can always hang up. Pretend I didn’t have good service. I do it all the time.”

“I’m sure you do.” Sam chuckled. “In that case, I’m gonna go grab some stuff and get the shield.” As he walked out, he made sure to mouth at you behind Bucky’s back ‘conversation’ making you swallow thickly. You were planning on talking to Bucky anyways, and with Sam’s insistence…

“Okay, so, I was thinking when we get back-”

“Can I talk to you?”

Bucky stopped digging through the bag, blinking at you in surprise at your sudden burst. “Uh…well, we already are, so yes.” He chuckled, straightening and crossing his arms.

“I wanna have the conversation.”

He was left stunned, once again, his mouth opening and closing and his weight shifting form one foot to the other. “Like…that conversation? R-right now? Are you sure?”

You winced at her nervousness. “Sorry, sorry. I know it’s kinda…I just…I need to talk about it. Now.”

“Okay, okay. No, that’s fine. Don’t apologize. I just wasn’t expecting it.” Bucky cleared his throat. “That’s all.”

“Okay…” You breathed with a small nod. You opened your mouth, but Bucky shook his head.

“I hafta say this first; I didn’t mean to hurt you by telling you about Steve. I-I dunno what I thought. That it’d give you closure or something. I dunno. But it hurt you and I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention.”

“Buck-”

“I was jealous. And guilty. And mad. And upset. I still am. Kinda. I guess. I dunno.” Bucky shook his head, running his hand through his hair and all you could do was gape at him as he started confessing to you. “Remember when we danced? In Madripoor? Doll…I don’t wanna dance ever again if it’s not with you. I fucking love you, Y/N. And not in the way we’ve said it before. I’m in love with you. I have been for-for a while now. I just - you were Steve’s. Steve loved you and you loved Steve and that was that and I was just the broken childhood best friend. But Steve left and he told me to take care of you and I didn’t know what to do with that, because you still love Steve. I think. I dunno. And I didn’t want to break what we have because you’re all I have left of him. You and that stupid shield. You’re my family. My home. I really meant it when I told you that. And that’s why I couldn’t tell you. Because it means too much for me to break what we have because I fell in love with my best friend’s girl. You know?”

He looked at you with pleading eyes, begging you to understand, but your brain was still trying to process what he was telling you.

“Oh God…” He groaned. “And now I just told you everything and you’re looking at me like that wasn’t what you wanted to hear and now I’m thinking this wasn’t the conversation you were thinking it was going to be-”

You were moving across the room before you could stop yourself, pulling him by the teal Henley you knew was comfortable having worn it to bed before when you visited him in New York, and slanting your lips over his.

His breathing hitched and he froze, and for a hot second you thought you made everything worse, but then he was kissing you back and his hands were on your hips and he was pulling you closer and it felt so fucking good you didn’t want to pull back for air.

“Shut up.” You muttered when you finally did pull back, your forehead against his, your eyes clenched shut. “Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up.” You pulled back to look up at him, chests heaving against each other, your eyes prickling. “I’m not good at this. I’m not good at opening up. I only ever was good at it with Steve but Bucky…I’ve been doing it with you. This whole time and I didn’t even realize it until the conversation in the car.”

He reached up to cup your cheeks, wiping away the relieved tears that were falling from the weight you were finally getting off your chest.

“I love you. I’m in love with you. How could I not be? After all that time in Wakanda? I was never Steve’s girl, Bucky. I wanted to be. Dammit, did I wanna be, but I wasn’t. Not really. And he’s gone. But you’re not. And I don’t know why it took me so long to see that. That you’re the one in front of me. You’re the one who held me when I needed it once he left. You’re the one that would listen to my rambles that I’m just realizing was most of our phone calls. You’re not just the broken childhood friend. Don’t ever think that. I don’t pick up the phone at five in the morning after searching for a friend until two for just anyone. Even Steve’s best friend. And I’m such an idiot because I’ve been pushing away my feelings all these years for Steve and then I let them out with you at the wrong time, because I love Steve, Bucky, but I’m not in love with him. Not since I fell in love with you. And I know it doesn’t make sense, but Steve was the first one I cared about and that’s just how I feel and I can try to explain, but-”

His lips crashed onto yours again and you could taste the salty tears that were pouring down your cheeks, but you didn’t care. He was holding you and he was kissing you and it was even more perfect than you thought it’d be.

“You’re adorable when you ramble, but Jesus Christ, shuddup, doll.” He breathed. “Just tell me you love me. Tell me you love me just a fraction of how much I love you.”

You looked up into those ocean eyes, your own shining with earnest affection. “James Buchanan Barnes. I love you.”

“That’s all I need to know.” He murmured against your lips, holding your head against his, still wiping away your tears. It felt like with each one that fell, you felt lighter and lighter. Like they were taking away every fear and anxiety you held within you for the past six months.

“Alright! I was thinking we could just set up in these trees out here - holy shit! Is it done? Did you do it? Did I miss it? Has the conversation been had?”

Bucky chuckled as you giggled. “He has the worst timing.” The last two words were loud enough so Sam could hear, although the man heard the whole sentence. 

“I’m gonna take that as a yes!” Sam cheered. “Halle-fucking-lujah! Finally! I was that close to locking you two in the attic.”

You shook your head at Sam’s personal celebration, drowning the rest of his words out as you looked at Bucky, who swept his thumb over your cheek catching one last tear, before pecking your lips.

“I finally get to kiss where I really want to.” He spoke softly, kissing your lips again. “Are you mine, doll?”

“I thought you said I’d always be your doll.” You answered cheekily. He grinned, kissing you again, pulling you against him by the hips.

“Okay, okay! That’s enough! We get it! You’re in love, finally, but I don’t wanna see it anymore! Now will you come help me with this shit?”

Bucky left one more lingering kiss on your lips, before you pushed him away reluctantly. “I’ll be right out.”

He nodded, moving over to help Sam carry the things he’d gathered.

You watched them put it all up from the window, gnawing on your cheek as you spun your phone in your hands. Coming to a decision, you tossed your phone in the duffle bag and walked out with it just as the boys finished.

“That was a quick phone call.” Sam raised an eyebrow.

You shrugged. “Didn’t call them. If they really need me, they’ll find me.”

Bucky grinned as you set the bag down under a tree, pecking your lips when you got close enough for him to grab by the waist to hold you against him. You rolled your eyes, shoving him playfully away and giggling as Sam let out a groan.

“Alright. Let’s see what you’ve got, Sammy.”

~

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Bucky knew he needed the tough love talk Sam was giving him. He needed to hear it. Because, deep down, he had known it all along, he just refused to believe it. He tried doing it. Making amends. He knew he wasn’t though. And of course he knew immediately who that one person would be.

“And hey.” Bucky looked at him. “Let me tell you what. Telling my girl all that you told her? That’s a good start. I’m proud of you. Both of you. You’re already happier. I can see it in your eyes.”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head as he thought of the gorgeous woman he nearly let slip through his fingers. He looked over to the house, where she was inside somewhere getting ready after suddenly deciding she needed to shower before they left. “I was stupid.”

“Yeah you were. You both were. I’m so relieved it’s over.” Sam nudged him. “Treat her right, Buck. She deserves it.”

“I know…I just hope I can.”

Sam shook his head. “Uh-uh. Don’t do that. You were just starting to use that cyborg brain of yours! She chose you. And before you say anything,” Sam cut Bucky off from speaking as he opened his mouth to object. “She chose you before Steve left. It just took her dumbass this long to realize it.”

Bucky nodded, a small smile on his face. “Yeah…okay…” Before he could say anything, the goddess herself stepped out, jogging over, looking absolutely amazing in her jeans and his t-shirt. “Good talk.”

Sam laughed at his quick ending of the conversation as she came up besides them. “Talking about me?” She asked cheekily, eyes shining. Bucky couldn’t help but take her under his arm, pecking her lips. Now that he could, he didn’t think he could stop. He was addicted to say the least.

Throwing Bucky a wink, Sam shrugged. “Just all the things that get on our nerves.”

“Ha ha.” She rolled her eyes. “We better get going.”

Bucky and Sam clapped hands. “You know Karli won’t quit.”

Bucky smiled. “Ah. You call us when you have a lead and we’ll be there.”

Y/N stepped forwards to give Sam a hug. “Anytime, Sammy.”

“Eh. Anytime between noon and midnight.” Bucky corrected. “Or noon and ten. Noon and five…you better just call at noon to be safe.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Sure, sure.”

“Not necessarily as a team.” Bucky continued, grabbing the bag, getting Y/N back in her spot at his side under his arm.

“Nope!”

“We’re not that good.”

“Definitely not.”

“We’re professionals.”

“Definitely.”

“And, uh, we’re partners.”

Sam snapped, pointing at him. “Coworkers.”

“But we’re also a couple of guys with a couple mutual friends.”

“Ones now gone and you’re dating the other.”

“So we’re a couple of guys…with a badass to help out.”

“I can live with that.”

“Perfect.”

“Oh my God.” Y/N let out that laugh Bucky could never get enough of, shaking her head at the two of them. “You forgot dumbasses.”

Sam shook his head. “Nuh-uh. That’s your couple name.”

“Dumbasses?”

“Oh yeah.” The three of them came to a stop, Bucky and his girl - God he loved confirming it now - facing Sam. “Thanks for the help, guys. Meant a lot.”

Bucky patted his shoulder. “Of course.”

Y/N shot him a wink. “Until we meet again, Sammy.”

“Until then, cher.”

Bucky couldn’t stop his grin as she wrapped her arms around his waist, the two of them starting to walk to the main road where she already ordered an Uber. He looked down at her, kissing her lips for the nth time in the past hour.

“I wish I didn’t wait so long,” he told her seriously. “But I’d wait a thousands more centuries if it meant I get to call you mine.”

She giggled, shaking her head. “You’re such a sap! But…” she moved up to kiss him and his heart stuttered. He knew he had a goofy grin on when she pulled back, but he couldn’t help it. Especially when she laughed again. “I have to agree with you on that, Buckaroo.”

[buddienights]

Stage Four Eddie Diaz and this art by @like-the-rest-of-la fried my brain ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (and Buck’s). Someday I’ll write a fic for this account on something besides my phone and will know how many words it is going in.

Rated E for “exceptionally inappropriate use of a club bathroom”

“Oh, sorry to hear that, Buckaroo,” Hen says.

“Yeah, thanks, Hen,” Buck says, a little rote. He should be feeling something about this but he just…isn’t. Except maybe relief, but he doesn’t want to unpack that.

“What did Eddie say?” she asks.

“I mean, I texted him last night,” Buck says, lacing up his other boot. “He got kinda weird about it?”

Like Eddie hasn’t been weird for the past eight months.

“Weird how?” Hen asks.

Buck shrugs and finishes the buttons on his shirt. “Where is he anyway?”

“Sorry I’m running behind this morning,” Eddie says, running into the locker room and dropping his bag on the bench.

“Speak of the devil,” Hen says.

“Thought my ears were burning,” Eddie replies with a warm smile in her direction before he goes to pull off his shirt and grab his uniform. He glances over at Buck while he does and it’s the first good look Buck’s gotten at him since he’s shown up.

Buck misses a button.

“How are you?” Eddie asks, eyes warm and full of concern and not weird at all, except for the — except for the hair.

Which is weird.

Which is fucking hot.

“I’m—” Buck starts and then realises what he’s done with his buttons.

While he starts trying to fix the problem, Eddie continues, “We should all go out tomorrow night. Take your mind off things. There’s this club Karen’s been wanting to go to. We could make it a thing. The four of us.”

“Uh, ye—yeah, sure,” Buck says, still trying not to stare at Eddie’s new haircut. He wants to put his hands in it. He wants to put his hands in it and he wants to pull on it to see if the strands are as silky and soft as they look and then he wants to—

“Hen?” Eddie asks. He’s opted for a short sleeved uniform today and Buck thinks the dry cleaners must’ve done something to it because it’s tight around his biceps, more so than usual, and that’s—

“Uh, yeah, I’ll ask Karen about it,” Hen says, blinking back surprise. “Maybe my mom can look after the boys for a sleepover.”

“Sounds great,” Eddie says, and then claps Buck on the shoulder and leaves the locker room.

For a beat, Buck and Hen stare after him in equal confusion.

“I see what you mean about weird,” Hen says.

“Uh huh,” Buck replies which is about as close as he can get to coherency.

“The only clubs my wife knows are gay bars,” she adds.

“Well, at least no women will hit on me,” Buck says.

“Uh huh,” Hen agrees, and through the glass of the locker room, they watch Eddie soft-shoe through some pre-shift chores, looking almost like he’s whistling to himself. “We gonna be concerned about your best friend just asking us on a double date to a gay bar?”

“We’re not gonna think about it for now,” Buck replies.

Hen nods and they’re saved by the bell.

~*~*~*~*~

Buck spends most of the next day sleeping. Their shift had been busy, and he’d been distracted by Eddie’s haircut and good mood. It wasn’t good enough to be infectious, because it was so strange, but it was undeniable.

At the end of the shift he’d made plans to drop Christopher and his truck off at Hen’s and then the three of them could share a Lyft to the club. Buck, on account of already living closer than the others, was on his own for transit.

And so Buck sleeps, and then he showers, and he tries to do something interesting with his hair but it’s the wrong cut for him to really do anything.

Instead he just tries to find decent clothes. Half of his wardrobe — the stuff that makes him look decent at least — he keeps hearing Taylor’s voice in the back of his head telling him it makes him look hot, and he’s gonna have to go shopping. He’s going to have to replace his entire closet.

He winds up with a snug black shirt and jeans and decides to call it good. It’s not like he’s going to pick someone up. He’s just going to have a nice time with friends.

The others beat him to the place and when he gets there, Buck lets the throbbing pulse of the music and the swirling purple and pink and blue lights over the dance floor just completely overwhelm his senses and drag him out of his head. While he heads to the bar to get a drink and a better vantage point, the lights cycle through to oranges and white to go with the pink, and by the time he reaches the bar, they’ve cycled again to the full rainbow.

Buck reaches the bar and smiles awkwardly when the bartender visibly checks him out. At basically any other point in his life, Buck would simply be flattered. But right now he’s…

“What can I get you, handsome?” the bartender asks.

“What IPAs do you have?” Buck asks since he can’t quite make out the stained menu on the bar.

“You made it!”

Eddie’s voice comes from behind him, almost a shout to be heard over the music.

Buck turns to greet him and promptly loses control of his legs and has to drop to the nearest barstool to keep from falling down entirely.

Because it’s not just Eddie’s hair.

And it’s not just the bright smile he’s aiming in Buck’s direction.

And it’s not just the eyeliner smudged underneath his eyes.

And it’s not just the black mesh shirt that shows off Eddie’s formidable musculature or his chest hair.

And it’s not just the leather pants Eddie is wearing.

It’s the combination of all of those things and Buck’s pretty sure he’s gonna have to collect his bottle of beer from the bartender and stick it between his legs to get himself to calm the fuck down.

Eddie says something to him then, but with the combination of the music and Buck’s entirely unreasonable response to Eddie’s outfit, Buck doesn’t pick up a single word. Eddie notices, rolls his eyes fondly, has a quick exchange with the bartender, and then leans up close and personal into Buck’s space. Clasps a hand on his shoulder. Leans in to put his mouth right beside Buck’s ear. Basically presses Buck’s face into the intoxicating warmth of his chest.

“I was worried you were gonna play hooky,” Eddie says in Buck’s ear, lips close enough to brush softly against the shell.

Buck’s only saving grace is that the same loud atmosphere that necessitates this closeness also covers the embarrassing whimper that comes out of his mouth.

“Ha, nope,” Buck says.

Eddie squeezes his shoulder, thumb gently stroking over the muscle at the side of his neck, and smiles when he leans back. He collects their beers from the bartender and beckons Buck along towards a table where Hen and Karen are snuggled up together. Buck watches him go for a second, unable to make his eyes move away from Eddie entirely, and incapable of picking whether to focus on the shifting of his back muscles under the mesh shirt or the gratuitous way the leather pants cling to his ass.

He only remembers to stand up and follow when Eddie pauses to look over his shoulder at Buck in confusion. He’s glad, when he gets to the table, that Hen seems as stunned by Eddie’s transformation as he is. Maybe not with the same result, but while Eddie and Karen chat about something — wildly, Buck is pretty sure they’re talking about PTA stuff — Hen joins him in slack-faced staring.

“So, this isn’t a question I’ve ever thought to ask you before,” she says, leaning into Buck’s side of the booth. “But you seem…comfortable in a gay bar for a straight man.”

Buck lifts an eyebrow at her. “Like half the stories I told you guys when I was a probie about the people I hooked up with were about men.”

He says it a little louder than he means to — honestly just trying to be heard over the music — but there’s a definite pause in Eddie and Karen’s conversation. Neither of them turn to look, but Buck is pretty sure Eddie goes a little pink.

Which, serves him right.

“Oh,” Hen says. “Never mind then.”

She takes a sip of her drink, some kind of house speciality based on a cosmo as far as Buck’s lapsed mixology certification can determine, and then adds quietly, “So you are in love with Eddie, right?”

“That’s what your end question was?” Buck asks.

The mesh shirt shows off all of Eddie’s arms and whenever he lifts his bottle to take a drink, the muscles there flex just a little, and leaves Buck incomparably parched.

“Yeah, I just thought I was gonna have to talk you through a minor sexuality crisis first,” Hen replies.

“Not since I was a senior in high school,” Buck assures her.

Eddie lifts his arm again, muscles coiling and shifting beautifully.

Buck sulkily fellates his beer in response.

“We should dance,” Karen announces.

Eddie’s up and out of the booth almost as soon as she says it, pausing by the end of the table to polish off his drink. Karen copies him, as does Hen. Buck stays right where he is.

“You coming?” Eddie asks him, eyes bright and — and hopeful?

“I’m — you don’t want to see me dance, man, trust me,” Buck says. Which is true, but the truer truth is that he doesn’t know if he’s going to be fully capable of keeping his hands to himself. Not when they’re both single now and Eddie keeps looking at him like that while also looking like that.

“Buck,” Eddie says, fondly exasperated. “The point of coming out here tonight is to cheer you up, not so you can nope in a booth.”

“I’m cheery,” Buck says, forcing a smile. Eddie raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Promise. Go have fun.”

Eddie looks like he might argue a bit more but Hen and Karen pull him along to the dance floor. Buck stays when you he is, just watching. Hen and Karen look like they’re having a great time, and Eddie proves to be an exceptional shimmier.

Buck really doesn’t have any intention of dancing with them. Not until some guy dances up to Eddie, getting his hands all over the mesh covering Eddie’s torso, and breathing his introductions into Eddie’s ear. Buck’s stomach churns.

And then Eddie catches his eye, pointedly.

It occurs to Buck after he’s already moving that there’s no way Eddie would actually need saving in this situation. The guy’s flirty by way of being handsy but he’s not threatening. Buck can tell that even from afar.

But he only has these moments of clarity when he’s already in the process of plastering himself along Eddie’s back and smoothing his palms possessively over the flat planes of Eddie’s abs to fix on his hips and pull him close. It’s the closest he’s been to Eddie since— and fuck but he never wants to let go.

Eddie snakes his arm up around Buck’s shoulders and scratches at the short hair at the nape of his neck.

“Hey, baby, sorry I left you out here alone,” Buck says, loudly enough for the guy hitting on Eddie to hear him.

He’s pretty sure Eddie laughs, and the guy takes a second to look wistfully disappointed before smiling and shaking his head.

“Didn’t mean to intrude,” he assures them.

“No hard feelings,” Eddie promises. He keeps scratching his fingers at Buck’s hair, soothing and electric all at once. “Got him to come dance with me, so, thank you.”

“Happy to help,” the guy says. He looks them over again and Buck tries not to glare. “And thank you for your public service of, like, looking like that.”

Despite himself, Buck laughs, as does Eddie, and the guy dances off.

“Sorry,” Buck says, starting to pull his hands away from Eddie.

But Eddie just twists in his arms and stays pressed to him. “For which part?”

“I — I don’t remember,” Buck says, not entirely able to form full thoughts on account of the way they’re now swaying to the beat.

“The only thing that you should be sorry for is the fact you weren’t gonna dance with me,” Eddie says. He winds an arm around Buck’s neck and scratches at his scalp again. It makes Buck want to purr.

“Okay, seriously, what’s gotten into you?” Buck asks.

Eddie’s bright, flirty expression dims and he sighs — not that Buck can hear him over the music. He unwinds his arm from Buck’s shoulder and steps back out of his grasp. Before Buck can do more than look confused, Eddie snags a finger through one of his belt loops and tugs him away from the dance floor towards the relative quiet of the mens room.

“So?” Buck asks. “What’s going on?”

“I got tired,” Eddie says. He considers and then scrapes a hand over his face, slightly smudging his eyeliner. Because Eddie’s wearing eyeliner and that’s an image Buck’s just gonna file away for later. “No, I got so damn exhausted.”

“Exhausted from what?” Buck asks, concerned. “Are you not sleeping well? Is Chris having nightmares again?”

Eddie laughs, a bit forced and involuntary. “God, you don’t even hear yourself do you?”

“What?”

“You’re — you’re so sweet and you care so much,” Eddie says, and he’s not meeting Buck’s eye. “No, Chris is fine and I’m…sleeping as well as I ever do. I got exhausted from trying to pretend that I’m — that I’m not who I am.”

Buck frowns, scanning the outfit and the hair and, honestly, their location. “And this is…you?”

Eddie’s laugh is a little less forced this time. “No, this is a drastic overcorrection. I’m just so tired of pretending I’m not…”

He gestures widely at the room around them and then sighs and runs a hand through his new hair. “I don’t know.”

“Is there like a general topic section because I could maybe try and guess?” Buck suggests. “If that helps.”

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie says. “General topic of things I’ve been pretending to myself about is you.”

Buck blinks. “Me?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. He scrapes his fingers through his hair again and now it’s standing on end and god Buck wants to touch it. “You. And the way I’ve been trying to pretend for years now that the way I feel about you is a normal way to feel platonically about your best friend, but I’m so fucking in love with you I don’t know what to do with myself sometimes.”

Love.

Eddie is in love with him.

Not in a platonic friend way.

In love.

It feels like a warm click in his chest that’s a flintlock against kindling, not hollow and cold.

“And I don’t know, I thought maybe, maybe I’d get a haircut and wear the world’s stupidest shirt and change the status quo enough that maybe you’d see me now,” Eddie continues.

“I always see you,” Buck says when he realises he needs to speak.

“I know, I just meant as more,” Eddie says.

Buck takes a step closer to him. “No, I — Eddie, I always see you that way. I just thought—”

I thought you were straight, for one.

I thought you didn’t feel the same.

I thought…

“Ah, fuck it,” Buck says and cups Eddie’s face in his hands.

When his lips meet Eddie’s, the kindling that’s started in his chest ignites. A good, warm and long-burning fire.

The kiss doesn’t last long and they part only far enough to rest their foreheads against each other.

“So,” Eddie starts.

“I love you too,” Buck says. “I mean, you knew that part, I mean I’m in love with you too.”

“Thank god,” Eddie replies and cups the back of Buck’s neck to pull him into another kiss.

This one doesn’t end quickly and it doesn’t stay chaste. Buck traces the seam of Eddie’s lips with his tongue and is quickly met with Eddie’s in response. He runs his hands over Eddie’s shoulders and down the long muscles of his back, slips them under the hem of his shirt to rest comfortably on the bare skin of his lower back.

“I know you said this is a stupid shirt,” Buck mumbles against Eddie’s mouth. “But I really, really like it.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, kissing the corner of Buck’s mouth and then along his jaw. “I think I’d like it better on you.”

“That’s fine, I can wear the shirt as long as you keep the leather pants,” Buck says, and dares to slide his hands down to get a good grasp on Eddie’s ass.

Eddie groans against his neck and steers Buck into one of the stalls, fumbling for the lock. Buck helps him with it and then gets his hands back on Eddie’s ass, pressing them together at the hips.

It’d be embarrassing to have to go back into the club this hard.

If only there were things they could do about it.

“I have a suggestion,” Buck says, rolling his hips against Eddie’s while Eddie shoves his hands under Buck’s shirt.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, leaning far enough from him to pull Buck’s shirt over his head. He takes a moment to hang it on the hook on the back of the stall door, which is both sweet and conscientious of him and then Buck can’t think full words because Eddie’s tracing the tattoos on Buck’s chest with his tongue. In an organised enough way that it seems like something he’s been thinking about and planning for a while now.

“One I think you’re gonna like,” Buck says, pulling Eddie’s shirt off for him as well. It’s only fair and he wants to get his mouth on Eddie’s chest too.

“What is it?” Eddie asks and then interrupts his answer to kiss him again.

Buck lets himself dissolve into Eddie’s mouth for a moment and then clears his throat. “We get off quick, and then make our excuses to Hen and Karen and go home and do it right.”

Eddie nods and runs his hands across Buck’s torso like he’s mapping it and reaches for the button on his jeans. As he undoes it, he says, “And then you stay the night and forget to ever go back to your apartment right?”

“Something like that,” Buck says, reluctantly pulling his hands away from their new favourite resting place and undoing Eddie’s pants too.

He loves that by “home” Eddie understood he meant Eddie’s house.

“Good,” Eddie says. He reaches his hand into the front of Buck’s jeans to draw him out and Buck has to bite down hard on his bottom lip to keep his reaction quiet. Eddie gently — too gently — runs his hand over the length of Buck’s dick, almost like he’s measuring. The soft, “Jesus Christ, Buck,” he utters at the end of his examination is punctuated with a very sticky kiss.

Buck finally gets his own hand into Eddie’s pants and it’s certainly not like Eddie’s anything to scoff at. Buck strokes him a little harder than Eddie had and gets a sharp exhale into his mouth.

“I just realised,” Buck says. With his free hand, he pulls Eddie closer and now it’d only take a quick adjustment for them to rut up against each other.

“Hm?” Eddie asks, nibbling down Buck’s neck.

“We never actually had that dick measuring competition,” Buck says.

Eddie snorts out a laugh and rests his forehead against Buck’s collarbone to look down. The back of his head is blocking Buck’s own view.

Eddie swallows a second later and looks back up. “I think it comes out to just working better together.”

Buck nods in agreement and kisses him again. They can do a more thorough investigation back home if they want.

For the time being, he presses Eddie close enough to get a hand around both of them and groans when Eddie follows suit. The feel of Eddie’s cock sliding beside his, wrapped in both their hands, is one of the better things he’d had the pleasure to experience.

Between Eddie’s hand, and his cock, and the feel of the muscle under Buck’s hand flexing and unflexing, and the headiness of I’m in love with you, it doesn’t take long for Buck to finish, spilling over both of them. Eddie moans against his bare chest and follows.

It takes them a moment of heavy breathing to untangle their hands, and then longer to be willing to separate enough to reach for cleanup stuff.

In the lull time, Buck kisses along Eddie’s jaw and his neck and revels in the feel of his skin.

“I love you so much,” Eddie says.

“I love you so much also,” Buck says, and finally reaches for the tissue.

When they’re clean enough to pass public inspection for as long as it takes to get home, Eddie hands Buck a shirt and pulls on his own. They’re all the way back to the dance floor to find Hen and Karen before Buck realises what Eddie’s done.

“We’re gonna head out for the night,” Eddie says to Karen when they find them in their booth with fresh drinks flashing smitten eyes at each other.

“Okay!” Karen says.

“Nice shirt, Buck,” Hen says.

Eddie smirks and Buck glances down at the mesh covering his own torso.

“Thanks, Hen,” Buck says. “We’ll see you at work.”

“Hopefully, I’ll see—” she gestures at his mostly naked chest. “—less of you.”

Buck nods, and then has to laugh, and is grateful when Eddie pulls him away, fingers tangled through Buck’s.

Hen and Karen’s giggles follow them until they’re lost in the noise of the club.

[morganwrites-starwars]

Time is a social construct pt. 16

Mandalorian Time Travel AU

Summary: Din is trying his best, ok? But between trying to find a teacher for his magic kid and learning there were other Mandalorians who follow a different creed, Din is very confused and lost. So when he ends up on a plant that his HUD says is Manda’yaim and encounters two teens on the run from a group of dar’mandas called Death Watch, Din figures he way as well help them. He never meant to adopt them. Or become Mand’alor.

A/N: Ok, I realize that Satine probably wouldn't be referred to as a duchess before her dad dies, but I also don't think its the biggest issue, and I don't feel like trying to fix it. So let's just say in the Mandalorian duchy, the duke and duchess are the oldest man and woman in the family. So, Satine's mom is dead so she's default Duchess.  

Masterlist

<Back/Next>

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            The amount of holos Din took of the kids curled up on Satine’s bed was between him and the Manda. Bo-Katan was attached firmly to Satine, who had, in turn, curled around Obi-wan, and Grogu had been lost in the tangle.

         Maybe 30 minutes in, there was a light knock on the door. The kids on the bed shifted but didn’t wake up. Din quietly went to the door and opened up, fully ready to scare off some haughty advisor. But it was Master Jinn on the other side.

         “May I speak to you for a moment?” Jinn asked in a whisper. Din stepped into the hallway, and Jinn peeked past him, smiling when he saw the tangle on the bed before the door closed. “How are they?”

         “Tired,” Din said. Jinn nodded.

         “As expected.” Jinn folded his hands into his cloak. “I was hoping to ask about your future.”

         Din crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “Shoot.”

         “Well, the things you mentioned were all concerning,” Jinn said slowly, considering his words. “But, as you may imagine, I have a special interest in the ‘Jedi genocide.’”

         “I wasn’t there,” Din warned, “Grogu filled in the gaps, but you’re not asking him about it. He’s had enough for now.”

         “Completely understandable,” Jinn said agreeably. “I would just like the general points, if you will. I plan to contact the council soon and should like to be able to give them some more information.”

         “And you don’t need stuff on the Mandalorians or the Clone Wars?”

         “Well, of course, those things are important, too,” Jinn said, holding a hand out as if to calm Din. “However, the massacre of Mandalorians would be best handled by Mandalorians, and I believe we are both in agreement that Satine is in no state to deal with such matters.”

         “And the war has to deal with the Mandalorians, right? Cause were violent barbarians.” Din was being annoying, he knew. But Obi-wan wasn’t there to tell him not to. So Din was going to enjoy this while he could.

         “I did not make any assumption about this ‘Clone Wars,” Jinn said, still annoyingly calm, though Din thought he might’ve detected a hint of annoyance in his voice. “However, I should like to know if it is relevant to the Jedi.”

         “Ok,” Din relented. He explained the concept of the Clone Wars and how it led to the genocide of the Jedi and the rise of the Empire. Din threw in how he met Grogu and his quest. His throat was dry, and his voice turned hoarse by the end. Jinn looked progressively more horrified. He stayed silent after Din finished, looking pensive and stroking his beard.

         “That-“ Jinn cleared his throat. “Hm.”

         “Is that all?” Din asked, impatient to get back to the kids.

         “Yes, thank you,” Jinn said. Anything further was cut off by the door opening. Standing in the doorway was a groggy Obi-wan, holding an even groggier Grogu. His kid whined and reached out to Din, so he immediately held his son.

         “He got upset when he woke up, and you were gone,” Obi-wan explained, hiding a yawn behind his hand. When he noticed Jinn, Obi-wan straightened up and tried to brush his hair. “Master, is everything ok?”

         Jinn smiled and set a hand on Obi-wan’s shoulder. “Yes, Obi-wan, everything is fine. I simply wanted to ask Mando here about his experiences. You can go back to bed; you look like you need the rest.”

         Obi-wan blushed. “Are you sure? I surely have work I should do or even meditate-“

         “All thing you can do later,” Jinn soothed. “Rest now, Obi-wan. I am going to meet with the council later, and if you are awake, you can join me.”

         Obi-wan nodded and returned to the bed. Grogu was snuggled into Din’s arm but was peeking at Jinn.

         “Hello, young one,” Jinn said softly. “I am sorry for taking Mando away and worrying you.” Grogu cooed, and Jinn chuckled. “Thank you for your forgiveness.”

         Grogu began babbling, the sounds slurring together as Grogu started to fall back asleep. Jinn nodded along until the kid fell asleep. Jinn looked at Din curiously.

         “He speaks very highly of you,” Jinn whispered. “I am glad you found each other.”

         Din looked down at his son and trailed a gentle finger down one of Grogu’s ears. “Me too.”

         Jinn said goodbye and left, so Din returned to the room, trying to set Grogu back down on the bed. But his son whined whenever he attempted to, so Din settled down with Grogu held close to his chest.

         The Mandalorian, apparently from the future, was a puzzle, and Qui-gon was eager to solve it. He never took his helmet off and refused to share his name but quickly won the Kryze girls' favor and even Obi-wan's. Bo-Katan, he could understand; the fiery girl had expressed interest in learning and following a more traditional Mandalorian lifestyle. But the peaceful Satine and his Padawan were more baffling phenomena. And even thinking about the youngling, Grogu, gave Qui-gon a headache. He’d never considered what Masters Yoda and Yaddle looked like as a baby, and Qui-gon didn’t even want to know how many years old the child was.

         Qui-gon shook his head to disperse the thoughts- brooding over them wouldn’t result in any worthwhile answers. He would have to meditate before his meeting with the council.

         He went to his room just to do that, settling on the floor near the bed, closing his eyes, and taking deep breaths. Soon enough, years of practice allowed him to fall into the gentle ebb and flow of the Force. He let his consciousness float as he reached out, depositing his questions and concerns into the Force, not demanding or expecting an answer. He allowed himself to feel the life surrounding him- there was a lovely garden outside his window shining in the Force.

         But something shifted- a cold prick just out of reach. Tentatively, Qui-gon followed it as if following a line the Force had set out. When he reached the source, he had a feeling he couldn’t explain, a feeling that this was a point of no return. He cast out a question of if this was what he was meant to do and received a gentle nudge from the Force. So Qui-gon fortified his mental shields and allowed the Force to do what it wanted.

         He is the Chosen One- a burning wound-

         The sound of thousands of feet marching to tune- the feeling of resigned fate- Blast him!

         A cold feeling- a strike of lightening- the smell of something burnt- I HATE YOU-

         The feeling of thousands of lights snuffed out- younglings were screaming why are the clones attacking-

         Qui-gon jerked himself out of his meditation, heaving and feeling the tears he hadn’t even realized he’d cried. Frantically he reached out for his bond with Obi-wan, admittedly weaker than it should be. But he could feel that his Padawan was ok, still asleep, surrounded by warm comforts and a calm, muted presence watching over him. He was alright; everyone was ok. Qui-gon forced himself through the breathing techniques he was taught as an initiate. In or 5, hold for 6, out for 7. Repeat. Repeat until his heart stopped racing and his hands- and when had they drifted to his stomach?- stopped shaking. The Force was there, a comforting presence in the back of his mind.

         Qui-gon tried to sort through the things he’d been shown and experienced and had the slightly hysterical thought that he’d just experienced his own death and the death of his people.

         Was this what Obi-wan felt all those times he’d awoken screaming from a dream he said felt like a vision from the Force? And had Qui-gon really brushed him off while his Padawan struggled with echoes of a gruesome future?

         Qui-gon hadn’t noticed he’d reached for his comm until it rang, calling someone he didn’t remember dialing. Tears were still falling down his face when the call connected.

         “Qui-gon?” The deep voice of his Master spoke. “To what do I owe- are you crying?”

         Qui-gon sniffed and rubbed away his tears with the back of his hand. “It would appear so.”

         Master Dooku’s brow furrowed, his stoic Master’s expression of concern. “What is wrong, Padawan? You are on the Mandalorian mission, yes? Is your Padawan alright?”

         “Yes, Obi-wan is fine,” Qui-gon said, closing his eyes as he allowed himself to reach out to Obi-wan’s Force signature again. “We’ve had, well, unexpected visitors.”

         Master Dooku raised a brow. “And these visitors have caused your tears?”

         “In a somewhat indirect way,” Qui-gon admitted. “I had questions about them that I meditate on, and what the Force showed me….”

         Burning-cold-fire-why-

         “Qui-gon, padawan!” Master Dooku’s concerned voice snapped Qui-gon out of his spiral.

         “Sorry, Master,” Qui-gon muttered, rubbing a hand down his face. “But yes, it was unsettling, and I called you without realizing it. I hope I did not interrupt anything.”

         “You didn’t,” Master Dooku assured, though his frown felt contradictory. “What are you going to do about what you saw?”

         “I have a meeting with the council in-“ Qui-gon checked the time; he’d been meditating longer than he thought-“Half an hour. I will bring it up.”

         Master Dooku hummed in response, silence falling between the two. Eventually, Dooku broke it. “I can come to Mandalore-“

         “That shouldn’t be necessary,” Qui-gon said with a fond smile and a shake of his head. How many people would believe that the infamous Master Dooku was a worry-wart?

         “You will tell me the minute it is,” Master Dooku demanded. Qui-gon agreed, knowing when it wasn’t worth arguing with his Master. Besides, Qui-gon could feel Obi-wan awake and heading toward him. Qui-gon considered saying goodbye to his Master, but Obi-wan reached his door before he could go through with it.

         “One moment,” Qui-gon told his Master, setting his comm down to open the door. Qui-gon couldn’t stop his smile at seeing Obi-wan. The boy had tried to fix his bedhead, but a portion in the back was still sticking up. Qui-gon reached out and smoothed it. “Good morning padawan. Did you have a good rest?”

         Obi-wan smiled. “Yes, Master, I did. I hope I’ve made it in time for the council meeting?”

         “You have,” Qui-gon said, stepping aside so his Padawan could enter the room. The boy paused at the sight of Qui-gon’s comm. “There is someone I’d like you to meet.”

         Qui-gon walked Obi-wan over to the comm and sat down with him. “Master Dooku, this is Obi-wan Kenobi. Padawan, this is my Master, Yan Dooku.”

         “Pleased to meet you, Master Dooku,” Obi-wan greeted politely with a bow of his head.

         “You as well, Padawan Kenobi,” Master Dooku returned with a fond quirk of his lips. “I have heard many things about you. Very good things.”

         Obi-wan blushed, and Qui-gon couldn’t resist poking his Padawan teasingly in the Force. “Tha-thank you.”

         “When you return to the Temple, I would hope we could perhaps have tea together,” Master Dooku suggested. And surprisingly, Qui-gon didn’t feel the need to reject, and Obi-wan didn’t look opposed.

         “That sounds like a nice time,” Qui-gon said with a smile, enjoying the subtle signs of surprise on his Master’s face.

         “Yes, I will look forward to it,” Master Dooku said, regaining his composure. Something off-screen caught Master Dooku’s attention. “I’m afraid I have to leave now. Remember what I said?”

         “Yes, Master, it was only a few minutes ago,” Qui-gan said with a casual hand wave. Master Dooku ‘hmphed’, and they said their goodbyes.

         “Are the others awake?” Qui-gon asked Obi-wan as they stood up.

         His Padawan nodded. “The Duchess and Bo-Katan took them to eat- Grogu was hungry.”

         Qui-gon hummed and examined his Padawan. His meditation had left him with the feeling that poor Obi-wan, who’d already been through so much, as a critical player in the future Mando had discussed.

         “Master, is everything ok?” Obi-wan asked. Qui-gon nodded and assured his Padawan that he was just thinking. “Should we head over to the comm station?”

         “Yes, that would be a good idea,” Qui-gon agreed. “And you are sure you want to attend?”

         Obi-wan nodded quickly. “Yes, Master.”

         “Alright, but if that changes, please don’t be afraid to excuse yourself.”

         There wasn’t an immediate response to that request, but he eventually agreed. Obi-wan was still learning that the council wasn’t a scary monster, they were Masters who’d understand that Obi-wan was a padawan, and this was an emotionally taxing situation. But, still, Qui-gon would be sure to keep an eye on his Padawan.

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[weirdos-am-i-right]

Fuck Traveling// Pete Davidson x reader

Request from @annalayton19

Hi! I’m a new follower and I really like your stuff! Could I request a Pete Davidson x reader (angst to fluff) where Pete is on tour or filming away from home and the reader is left behind. After like 6 months of being apart Pete starts to get tired of the long distance and basically like done with it. And then he realizes his mistake and comes home to make it up to her! I’m sorry if that’s super long! Also if this imagine doesn’t interest you, then no sweat! Thank you so much in advance 💕

A/n: This took so much less time then I thought it would. Anyway, here you go, I really hope you like it!

Warning: angst, swearing, like one cigarettes

€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€

Six months. Six months was an extremely long time to be away from someone you loved.

Y/n sat on the couch, a small pout on her lips. She looked at Pete—her boyfriend of a year—and frowned. “I wish I could go with you.” Pete frowns too, and sits down next to her.

“I know. I wish you were coming with me too. But hey, it’s only a couple of months, all right? I’ll be back before you know it.” He kissed her cheek.

“I just wish my contract would let me. You have no idea how annoying it is to not be able to do things because of freaking Marvel.” She groans, falling on her back with a slight ‘plop’.

“Well, because of freaking Marvel, you are one of the best actresses out there. And I know you’re going to kill it with filming. My tour isn’t even that cool. It’ll broke you to death.” He jokes, leaning back on the arm of the couch.

“Babe, you’re a comedian.”

“Oh right, I forgot.” He grabs her arm, and pulls her up into his chest. “I love you, okay?” He lifts her chin up, and kisses her. “So fucking much. We’ll face time everyday, I’ll call you every evening and wish you goodnight.”

“Okay.” She looked over a the clock, and sighed. “We have to go. Your flight is leaving soon.” He brushes hair behind her ear, bringing her eyes back to him.

“I love you. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“I love you, too.”

********

The car ride to the airport was long, and quiet. Pete was driving, he had one hand on the steering wheel, and one hand on Y/n’s leg, rubbing small circles into the center of her thigh.

She knew she was going to miss him so much, but she also knew she was going to be extremely busy with filming, so it wouldn’t be as bad.

Once they were at the gate, they tearfully hugged, and she kissed him. “All right, now get out of here. We’re not doing that rom-com turn back at the last second goodbye.” She laughed at him, tears steaming down her face a bit. He wiped one with his thumb, and kissed her again. “Love you. Now go, so I get to watch you walk away.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She turns around, and starts walking back to her car. She knew he hated leaving her too, but he was a lot better at hiding emotions then she was, that was one of the only things she learned while dating him.

She got in her car, and put her head on her steering wheel.

She groans, and leans back. Starting her car, she pulled out of the airport, and drove home.

**********

The first few months were the worst. Y/n hated going to bed alone, the left side of the bed always cold.

She was filming almost every day, and seeing her co-workers and friends always cheered her up, after all she had been working with the same people for quite some time now, so she felt comfortable around them.

The fourth month was slowly becoming easier. She got use to coming home to no one there, and making dinner for herself. She still talked to Pete every day, texting him good morning, and Goodnight, and FaceTiming him a lot during the day.

Though she knew he loved her, she felt as though he was slightly pulling away. The FaceTime calls were short, and he never texted her back right away like he use to.

“And so, we we’re almost done with the shoot, so close I could practically taste the coffee in my trailer waiting for me, and then Kevin calls cut, and he makes us do the whole scene over again! I swear, I was about to strange that man. Ugh, I can’t wait til you come home. Only two more weeks, I can’t believe we made it.” Y/n rants, talking to Pete on the phone.

“Uh huh. Cool.” He wasn’t looking at her, instead his attention was somewhere else. Y/n frowns, tilting her head a bit.

“Pete…are, are you okay?” That seemed to catch his attention, and he finally looked at the screen.

“What? I’m fine.”

“Okay…you just seem so…different lately. I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but you seem like you don’t have time for me anymore. Or if you do, you don’t like talking to me.” Pete scoffs.

“Of course I don’t have time for you right now. I’m in between shows, I’m driving to one as we speak. I mean, god forbid I get a minute to myself without my agents or you calling me.” Pete snapped.

“Wha-I’m just talking to you. If you didn’t want to, you could have said something.”

“That’s bullshit you would have thrown a fucking hissy fit or something.” He rolls his eyes.

“That’s not true. I understand when people are tired, believe me I would know.”

“Would you?”

“Yes!” She had tears stinging her eyes. “Of course I do, you’re forgetting what I do for a living. I work from 6 am to whenever we finish which most of the time is in the middle of the night. I have to re-do the same scene about ten times because RDJ won’t stop making jokes in the middle of the scene!”

“Oh, sorry, I forgot about your super-star actress life.”

“Why are you being so mean to me? I was only concerned about you.”

“Mean? What are you, five? I can’t-I can’t do this anymore.” She huffs, crossing her arms.

“What do you talking about? Are you breaking up with me?”

“Wh-”

“Because then fine. If you don’t want to be with me, I don’t have to take this shit. I’ll be with someone who, oh, I don’t know is actually here.”

“Oh that’s fucking rich, you know I can’t be there, don’t even do that.” She scoffs.

“I don’t care. You want to act like a petty bitch, I have no problem doing it right back.”

“No, I think you’re just a petty bitch.” She wipes her eye, and he laughs dryly. “Oh of course you’re crying.”

“Shut up. If you don’t want to be with me, fine. Go enjoy your show, Pete.” She hung up the phone, and turned off the ringer. She plugged it into her charger, and went into the bathroom, turning the shower on.

********

Pete rubbed his eyes, and took a drag of his cigarette. He knew he shouldn’t have snapped at her, it wasn’t her fault he was cranky, and needed to take it out on someone.

“I’m a dick.” He mumbles to himself, and bangs his steering wheel.

His phone rang again, and for a good second his heart leaping out of his chest, thinking it was his girlfriend, calling him back. He checked the phone, seeing it was Colson. He answered the call.

“What’s up, man?” Pete asks.

“The shows starting soon. You almost here?” Colson questioned. Pete looked at his google maps, seeing he was supposed to be there in ten minutes.

“I’m a good ten minutes away. I’ll be there.”

“You sound weird. What the fuck did you take without me?” Colson asks, trying to lighten the mood.

“Uh…Y/n and I just broke up. I think.” The line was silent for a few seconds.

“Why the fuck would you do that, you idiot? Are you kidding me?” Colson scoffs. “Man, what the fuck?”

“Shut up, man. I can’t stand talking on the phone with her. I’m busy, she’s busy, she plays a superhero for fuck’s sake. I didn’t even expect it to last this long to be honest.”

“Man, you fucking dumbass. That girl was probably the only good thing you had going for you. Get her the fuck back.I thought you loved her.”

“I did-I do. I do love her. I’m just so stressed right now, and excuse me for not wanting to hear about fucking Kevin Feige being a shitty director.”

“Hey, fuck-shit, you ever think that maybe this is more hard on her? Acting is fucking hard, you should know that, especially for a company like Marvel.

“Man, who’s side are you on?” Pete turns into the parking lot, and grabs his phone.

“You think I’m on your side here? You’re forgetting that we were friends before I met you. I can not believe you just fucked up the best thing in your life. Fix it, man. You’re going home in a week, fucking fix it.” And with that, Colson hung up, and put his phone away.

He kicked a rock across the pavement, and cursed under his breathe.

********

The worst thing about breaking up with someone you live with, who so happens to be long-distance is that their stuff fills the apartment with an existential amount of regret.

Y/n laid on her couch, flipping through the channels of the TV. She had called off work for the next few days, not feeling up to put on a performance for anyone. She knew she would get shit for it later, but she didn’t care.

Her head perked up when there was a knock on the door. She sighed, and got up, going over to the door. She really didn’t feel like company at the moment, and was sure she was going to send away whoever it was.

When she opened the door, her breathe caught in her throat. Pete stood in the doorway, looming over her. He looked like shit. She could tell he hadn’t slept, and probably didn’t eat anything, but she knew he didn’t look much better.

“Why-why didn’t you use your key?” Y/n asks, opening the door a bit for him.

“I uh, didn’t want to barge in on you. You also probably weren’t expecting me.”

“I wasn’t. I thought you didn’t get back until next week.” She says. It took every ounce of her not to jump into his arms, and kiss his face until she was sure she kissed every part of it.

“I took off early. Can we talk? Please. I was a dick. I was such a dick. I’m sorry, I know we grew apart in the last few months, and I promised we wouldn’t but we did, and I’m so sorry for that, baby.” He grabs her hand, and she slightly pulls it back, but let’s him grab it. “Please, forgive me. I love you, so much, okay? So fucking much, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”

She felt tears welling up in her eyes, and she looked away from him. “What you said really hurt.”

“I know. And I’ll spend every day trying to make it up to you.” She quickly wrapped her arms around him, pushing her face into his chest. He didn’t hesitate to hug her back, leaning down and kissing the top of her head. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Fuck traveling.”

“Fuck traveling.”

.