#need this sweet girl to be a war criminal on the side | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

terapsina · 8 months ago

Text

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @isagrimorie (thanks, this looks fun 🤩).

---

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

120

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count?

324,790

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I'll just copy-and-paste from ao3, cuz I'm not writing all that down.

The Vampire Diaries (TV) (25), Legacies (TV 2018) (12), Person of Interest (TV) (9), Once Upon a Time (TV) (9), Leverage (US TV 2008) (7), Shadowhunters (TV) (7), Doctor Who (2005) (5), Arrow (TV 2012) (4), Merlin (TV) (4), Captain Marvel (2019) (3), 苍兰诀 | Love Between Fairy and Devil (TV) (3), Batwoman (TV 2019) (3), The 100 (TV) (3), Willow (TV 2022) (3), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV) (2), The Magicians (TV) (2), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling (2), Supergirl (TV 2015) (2), The Originals (TV) (2), Star Wars - All Media Types (2), The Old Guard (Movie 2020) (2), Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types (2), The Good Place (TV) (2), Avatar: Legend of Korra (2), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV) (2), Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV) (2), Charmed (TV 2018) (1), Angel: the Series (1), Wednesday (TV 2022) (1), Star Trek: Voyager (1), Teen Wolf (TV) (1), Star Wars: Rebels (1), Sweet/Vicious (TV) (1), Star Trek (1), Star Wars: Ahsoka (TV) (1), Lost Girl (TV) (1), Legend of the Seeker (TV) (1), Hustlers (2019) (1), Stargate SG-1 (1), Revolution (TV) (1), Sanctuary (Canada TV 2008) (1).

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

5 Times The Doctor Talked About River Song With Graham (+1 Time The Fam Finally Met Her) - the 13/River fic where Graham finds the Doctor's missing wedding ring and she gradually opens up about her wife.

“Her name was River Song.” She says once he’s already taken a few steps. He stops, turning around, giving her the opportunity to continue or not as she needs. “She was an archaeologist. And a professor. And a criminal. And she was brilliant and absolutely mad.”

“She must have been. Married you didn’t she?” Graham jokes before he can help himself.

But Doc just grins like she agrees and laughs to herself.

Something uncoils in Graham’s chest at seeing Doc’s face regaining its natural brightness, however tinged with grief. The grief isn’t new either, he’s seen shadows of it in her all along but this is the first moment she doesn’t seem to be trying to hide it. Or maybe the first time she’s not trying to hide from it.

The Suspicious Case of Tribbles - the 13/River fic where River tries to "borrow" the TARDIS for lil'bit.

"Don't mind me. Carry on!" The woman says, dropping a bag of something heavy that sounds like a bag of rocks to the floor and hurrying towards the TARDIS controls. "I'm only here to establish an alibi. A short hop over to the other side of the hemisphere and some 38 planetary hours in the past should do it. I'll send you lot right back to him none the wiser. It'll be our little secret."

She's Come Undone and Set Free - Elejah, Bonbekah, Klaroline and Elena/Caroline/Bonnie/Rebekah friendship story that deals with Elena and Caroline getting to be angry and making Damon pay for what he did to them, as well as supporting each other and beginning to heal. (WIP, but there's only 2 chapters to go).

“I want you to know, that’s not why I will always hate you, Damon.” She strengthened her hold on his face at the look of caution that was surfacing at her words, likely because he’d just now been remembering that not that long ago she’d broken his neck. “I won’t even hate you because of the sire bond. Though I wasn’t lying, it felt like being a slave to your every desire, whether or not you actually voiced them. And the funny thing? I’m not sure I’ll ever know how much me there was when I was making any of the choices that lead to Jeremy dying.”

“What’s your point?” Damon asked and grabbed her hands in a vice-like grip that made it impossible for Elena to try again what she'd done nearly two days ago when she'd regained her humanity. But she'd already known there wasn’t a point trying now that he'd be expecting it, so she didn’t fight to escape him.

“She’s my best friend, Damon. I will never forgive you for what you did to her,” she said and did absolutely nothing as Damon’s eyes widened and he tried to turn around. He wasn’t fast enough. He’d been too consumed by Elena to pay attention to any other heartbeats around them, and despite her age, Caroline had always been an unusually fast vampire.

Morai's Call to Hope - my Star Wars, time travel, Snips and Skyguy fic where Anakin gets pulled into the World Between Worlds three days before his Fall, watches as Darth Vader is about to kill Ahsoka... aaaaaaand jumps forward to stop him. (WIP and I'm very ashamed about it, because I loved writing this story and really hope to get back to it someday)

From behind Anakin there comes again a whisper from a different time: ‘I would never let anyone hurt you, Ahsoka… never…’

But in front of Anakin comes something else.

‘Then you will die,' the Sith says in direct contradiction to everything Anakin has ever promised both aloud and inside his own heart to the closest thing he’s ever had to a little sister or a daughter. And every single cell of his body rebels against a time where he would ever utter those words to Ahsoka. So even as the red lightsaber ignites in the Sith’s hands, Anakin rushes forward and through the fragile line of a portal separating his reality from theirs.

As the Sith’s lightsaber finishes the arch of its blow instead of encountering Ahsoka’s white dual sabers it’s stopped by the intervening block from a blue lightsaber in the hands of the Anakin Skywalker sixteen years out of his time.

You know who you remind me of? - the 13/River fic where the Doctor is in the middle of hiding under a table with Yaz for plot reasons when she hears the sound of her wife's laughter and is immediately distracted from the mission that brought them there.

The laugh is thick with mischief and a galaxy of secrets.

She knows that laugh.

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to. I adore comments and really truly appreciate receiving them, so I do try to respond to them. But sometimes I get into a kind of slump where replying just feels exhausting. And by the time I'm over that, it might have been like two weeks, and then it feels embarrassing to respond.

And sometimes I just don't know WHAT to say.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably Last Words. I do have quite a few angsty fics but I usually end them either happily or with an open ending that's got light at the end of the tunnel. But this once I came up with an idea for soulmate-identifying-last-words and then wrote a Korrasami fic for it.

Asami had known that Korra was her soulmate. And like everyone else she was in no hurry to see it proven. And there she might be counted lucky, because she did not learn it for many years to come. They survived the war with Kuvira, and then returned from their vacation in the spirit world, and survived many more battles beyond that. The Avatar lived a long life.

But Asami Sato lived a longer one.

So that has the saddest ending.

Well, that, or maybe what's the point of greater good, which is my Queliot (with a side of Wickoff) story where Julia talks to Quentin during the time Eliot was possessed by the Monster.

She finds him stubbornly looking through the mountain of books, searching for any and every scrap of information on Enyalius they can get. He looks like he hasn’t slept since the moment weeks ago when Eliot managed to surface for those brief few moments to tell them he was alive. Hope’s a bitch that way.

“We need to stop him Q.” Julia says, from behind him.

Quentin’s shoulders freeze in place and he leans forward, hands clenching the spine of the book he’d just been about to pick up.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Like I said, I tend to mostly write happy endings. But if I have to pick what I considered as the happiest one, then here's a story that's full of angst in the middle, which made the ending feel even happier because of the contrast.

6 Times Bellamy Tried to Forget That He Was in Love With Clarke (+1 Time He Couldn’t Anymore) - exactly what it sounds like. My big look into Bellamy's head through most of the seasons. Canon almost to the end, where I sharply switch tracks and give Bellarke the happy ending they goddamn deserved.

The first thing he saw as the delinquents pulled aside the sheets of scrap metal to let their two missing people in was Clarke running in front, scraped up but seemingly uninjured. He wished that the relief that overtook him was entirely selfish, that it had to do with the fact that he had his partner back and he wouldn’t have to carry the burden of their people’s lives all by himself. But that was crap.

It was vastly overpowered by the simple joy of seeing that Clarke was alright.

“Hey, we heard an explosion. What happened?” she fired out rapidly as soon as she was in front of him. Face serious and eyes focused entirely on Bellamy, - and it was something that had gotten to be so familiar to him that it almost felt like having her there was akin to getting back a missing limb.

He almost, almost fell to the instinct to pull her into his arms because he was just so damned glad that she was alive that the only thing that saved him was the fact Jasper got there first.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not a lot. But there's been a few occasions where I have gotten some, yes. Mostly the 'this was a waste of my time' variety.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Not... really? On a few rare occasions I've written a bit of spice but I don't think that people that read smut would give me more than 2.5⭐ out of 5⭐.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Yes. When the idea for one strikes. And I don't know if I'd say it's the craziest one, but definitely a fun one is my Stargate SG-1/Leverage crossover where the Stargate Program needs to recruit some thieves.

The Homeworld Security Job. (incidentally this is also the fic that got me the most amount of hate comments).

“I know, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that no one at SGC can go, you need thieves for this mission. And this is a big planet, you guys must have some good ones between those 7.5 billion people. You get me a few of them and I can teach them how to play a wealthy minor Goa’uld long enough to get in and out. But I can’t teach someone to be a good enough liar to not get caught. Not with the time we have here.”

“What do you want us to do, Vala? Grab a bunch of criminals off the street and hope they don’t decide that stealing a Stargate and selling that to the highest bidder instead would be a more lucrative business plan?” Cameron asks.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I'm aware.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Once. My Lunarry fic the ones that seek and find (six years in the relationship of harry and luna) has a translation into Chinese Mandarin 探寻和发现（哈利与卢娜相处的六年).

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. It's always sounded kinda complicated.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

I do NOT have a one single favorite ship. But there are a few that I will probably never let go of and those are: Elejah, Swan Queen, Hizzie, Bellarke, Spuffy, Doctor/River, Clizzy, Bering and Wells, Kahlan/Cara, Parker/Hardison, Graylora and DFQC/XLH.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

All of them 😭.

But especially the Star Wars time travel one I mentioned earlier. I love that one so much. And I want to go back to it and finish it. But the stars aren't looking all that bright.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'd like to think that I'm good at getting into characters' heads. Their inner monologues tend to be the easiest part to write (it's the dialogues and surrounding scenes that trip me up).

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Grammar. English isn't my first language, so the fiddly parts of the grammar is what I've picked up through osmosis while reading, which isn't exactly... a flawless way to do it.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've done it a few times (mostly in my Clizzy fics, because Izzy's character peppers a decent bit of Spanish in her dialogue on the show) and have nearly always kind of regretted it (I've needed to do fixes nearly every time, had to learn that google translate cannot be trusted the hard way).

19. First fandom you wrote for?

If I remember correctly, then I think that was a very terrible attempt at a BtVS/Stargate SG-1 crossover that has been deleted since then.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

This is a very predictable answer but that's She's Come Undone and Set Free, I'm just really proud of this story for a lot of reasons. And though there are a few other of my fics I love more than others, this one is just... my favorite of all of them.

---

Tagging: @vorpalmuchness, @jennifersminds, @muse-oleum, @amandamonroe and whoever else wants to.

#ask meme #writing #terapsina rambles #terapsina's writing rambles #elejah #thirteen x river #river x thirteen #bellarke #bonbekah #tvd #stargateverse #leverage #stargate sg1 #doctor who #star wars #clone wars #queliot #the magicians

8 notes · View notes

kit-williams · 11 months ago

Note

Hey idk if you're going to do anything more with your cope fics but in the Soap one. Did Nikto do something?

So funny enough I was actually writing something that I was debating on posting unless someone asked so uh I guess I'll just paste it here.

I will say this about Nikto he's very villain coded and of course in the lore he is very much a scary war criminal. I 100% blame @halcyone-of-the-sea for actually getting me to look at Nikto Highly recommend their fic Ravishing Allure

This takes place before the soap fic.

Um non consensual kissing

I knew I was regressing slightly... without my meds and being barely clinging together I was regressing a couple of years emotionally. Perhaps it was a stupid idea to be running in the halls of the base holding the switch in my hands eager to show Soap the cutest little pokemon cafe worker. Perhaps I should be more careful with Kortac around... perhaps I should be more careful with who was lurking around.

I should have been looking where I was going when I turned the corner and run right into a broad chest. That hardly limited it down to who it could be but the apology died in my throat as the scariest blue eyes were staring me down. Nikto. He scares me... I didn't remember his wiki page really just the feeling that he was a very very bad man. But I manage to slam right into him.

It's his eyes... I usually hate prolonged eye contact except for one man really... my husband and its terrifying how such a rich blue shade is staring right down at me in the same manner that he does when I've upset him. I twitch slightly as my desire to soothe and make my husband not mad bubbles back up... I had done a lot of healing to stop being an utter pushover and people pleaser to him and our friends but it seemed it was rearing its ugly head back here. I instead just make myself look smaller and far more submissive as I hold the Switch between us like it will keep him from me.

"S-sorry Nikto. I... I wasn't paying attention." I say before I try to quickly move past him and then I felt it. That soothingly familiar touch... the comforting warmth of a hand around my neck, resting there as if it belonged not squeezing because it didn't need to and I trusted the palm that usually rested there... the comfortingly large hand that was there during sex or just his way of flirting with me.

I think I was far to eager in the way I looked back up at the arm holding my neck. Maybe it was the look in my eyes... a silent hope that it was my husband there and not Nikto that this was all over. Maybe it was the way I cocked my head to the side when he did his... maybe I should have reacted better than my hardcoded submissive self did... I just didn't react.

I only whimpered as my back was pressed against the wall as he boxed me in. I was scared of what would happen if I didn't obey him demanding me to close my eyes. I pressed back against the wall as I've kissed enough times with my eyes closed... felt my husband kiss me on the lips as I danced between consciousness and unconsciousness... I was well aware of how close he was leaning to my face.

I groaned softly as he wasn't sweet or kind or this was the precursor to something else. It was rough and demanding... demanding what? I couldn't say but I felt so complacent and guilty like I was cheating on my husband when I started to kiss back.

-----

Her tongue moved against his as his hands moved down her waist in mock tender touches. Breathlessly she kept kissing back. The gentle groan as he bit her bottom lip and sucked on it for but a moment. His hips rolling against hers.

Nikto was intrigued by the "Girl out of time" just as much as König was. They were the one to get König the data he wanted allowing the large man to get closer to the target... perhaps there was intrigue from them as well. Nikto finally pulled away putting his mask back on as a thumb of his brushed upon her slightly swollen bottom lip, they held back a shiver as she did a simple 'om' sound before slipping the tip of his thumb into her mouth and being far too cute for her own good.

She still was submissive when he let her open her eyes and sent her on her way with a smack to her ass as she hurried off.

#cod x oc #cod #cod mw2 #cod nikto #mwii nikto #OC #cope fic #coping #idk if this counts as a cope fic #but it's in the same universe I guess #OC: Goblin #ask reply #reply

9 notes · View notes

cambion-companion · 2 years ago

Note

in all honesty, I am absolutely annoyed by how so many stands (on both sides) act so childishly. like honestly: it's fiction.

if I want to support an hot one-eyed babygirl, I will without the guilt of actually standing a real life war criminal, like I think that a lot of gets the difference between fiction and reality, but still so many in the fandoms don't and in all honesty it's grating on my nerves.

like there are so many bad takes and bullying, whereas we all should bond together in the fix-it fics for the pain that George and the series writers will push onto us.

I am truly sorry that you got all those asks and comments, they are truly awful.

also some positivity: I absolutely love your takes on Aemond (even more as a girl dad, because I absolutely see him with only girls, like he just gives me wholesome vibes, so I can't wait for more content with that idea, if you have anything for the future, but I'll gladly take anything you write!)

have a lovely day!

Aww another lovely Anon blessing my inbox! Thank you my dear, you are absolutely right! As is everyone saying this is a fictional world and people need to calm tf down and let people, I dunno, live?

It is the internet after all, but I have a strong community in this Aemond loving corner of Tumblr.

Haha you're so sweet! I shall definitely be writing much more Aemond fanfiction in the months to come between now and season 2!

8 notes · View notes

pollsonmorenichetopics · 4 days ago

Text

Disproportionate Retribution Poll Round 2 Side A:

Jeff and Pam McKenzie's (Home Sweet Hoem Alone) Disproportionate Retribution:

"Unlike the original Home Alone villains who were burglars for a living and tried to KILL a child for getting in their way, these two ordinary people only tried to break into a house to retrieve property they thought was stolen from them, so that they could sell it and not lose their home (Jeff recently lost his job and they can't afford mortgage). They are not violent or malicious in any way. And yet Max tortures them in such painful ways even the original burglars didn't experience, and they have realistic reactions like literally SOBBING in pain, but it's meant to be seen as funny and vindicating. Horrible."

Kamen Rider Imperer/Mitsuru Sano (Kamen Rider Ryuji) Disproportionate Retribution:

"Mitsuru Sano was disowned by his wealthy father so, living out of a dinky appartment, he was offered the chance to join the Rider War, compete with 13 other Riders, and get a wish granted so of course he accepted. As Kamen Rider Imperer, he was a wild card out of the bunch and sold his loyalty, backstabbing other Kamen Riders if it meant a better pay. Being a merc in a free-for-all war isn't that bad (considering that there IS a convicted criminal among the participants) but Imperer's life got better when he inherited his father's business. He tried to turn things around, start a life with a nice girl he met, and Imperer even went out of his way to save another Rider who would've died without his help. But you can't leave the Rider War. As a Rider, you are bound to a monster that needs to feed on other monsters (Feeding them another Rider's monster is the goal) so, with a starving herd of Gigazelles, Imperer had a new sense of resolve to fight and win. He would never get this chance as Kamen Rider Tiger, the Rider he was sheltering, jumped Imperer with the reasoning that inorder to be stronger, Tiger had to kill those he cared about most. Imperer ONLY wanted to make a nice life for himself and went about it in a pretty shrewd way but having someone he saved just because he could turn on him? Leading Imperer to his death in an alternate dimension, watching his fiance through a glass reflection?? Having someone who genuinely cared about him kill him??? Hey Toei WHAT are you putting in your kids' show?! Genuinely, Kamen Rider Imperer's death scene messed me uppppp. He was always super polite, honest with the fact that his loyalty was flimsy, and even offered to pay the other Riders for their aid but in the end, bro died alone and marked as missing with a body that could never be recovered"

#jeff mckenzie #pam mckenzie #home sweet home alone #kamen rider imperer #mitsuru sano #kamen rider ryuki

1 note · View note

joyfultunes · 3 months ago

Text

I've finished three books lately--2 short stories and a novel.

The first was The Brave Little Quakeress by E.P. Roe. We follow a young girl named Phebe, who is living in pre- Revolutionary War America. Her father is an outspoken patriot and has incurred the wrath of his Loyalist neighbors. They attempt to come after him several times, but each time, his young daughter bravely rescues him.

The next short story was Queen of Spades, also by E.P. Roe. This was a very sweet story about a young city slicker fella, who comes out to the farm to see his girl. When he arrives, he discovers they are in the midst of a work day, and he decides to jump in and help. In the process, he greatly impresses his father in law to be, and wins Sue's heart even more.

The novel was Crude, by Mike Bond. This is a thriller, about the threat of a nuclear war. There were a lot of main characters in this one. The first was Ross, the CEO of an oil company called Rawhide. He is faced with criminal charges when his oil rig suddenly blows up in the middle of the night. The press tries to claim that it was poor maintenance that caused it, but Ross is, and always has been, a stickler for regulations. Liz is the only survivor of the explosion. She has no idea what happened, either, claiming it was fine one second, and then the next, everything exploded.

The charges of poor maintenance are not Ross's only concern. Soon, his company's stock plummets, and he is facing bankruptcy. When one of his closest advisors is kidnapped, and then killed, he knows something else is going on, behind the scenes. He asks a friend, Turk, to investigate and see what turns up.

Meanwhile, the president threatens to launch the nuclear missiles. He claims Russia is already making threatening advances into Estonia and America needs to protect herself. Ross fears this will be the end of humanity as each side launches their missiles and ends billions of innocent lives.

Can Ross and Turk find out who caused the rig to blow? Who is trying to take down Rawhide? Most importantly, will the president launch the missiles or can Ross somehow prevent an all out nuclear war?

I won this book in a Goodreads giveaway. I am giving my opinion freely and am not being paid for it.

I liked this book a lot. I gave it 3.5 stars. It would have been 5, except for the objectionable elements. The objectionable things are not a main part of the story, still I cannot endorse this book for any Christian.

#books #justfinishedreading #august reads #historicalfiction #romance #thriller #end of the world #revolutionary war #farm girl #city slicker #oil rig disaster #nuclear war #nuclear weapons #closeddoorromance

0 notes

deathvalleyqueen · 7 months ago

Text

going through old screenshots cleaning things up I forgot I made my another one of my DnD characters... so I am just going to ramble about her for a bit cuz she makes me happy. (longish, mostly just me rambling with screenshots.)

While I am 85% sure the save file is gone to the void... but Morrigan in the DnD game is my Gravelord Sorc (a necromancer sorc) who technically isn't mostly alive. Her best friend is a Ghoul she summoned at when she 5 and she came into her magic. His name is Steve - in the game he is a less evil Durge Butler... kinda lol. They play games, Steve is kinda the comic relief for the party which for the game which really is a dark game - is much needed. She is spooky girl, but with a heart of freaking gold.

She is an indoor kid, who doesn't have friends and speaks to dead people. She is more of a summoner than a typical glass cannon. Though she has a love for a good fireball.

She is technically a tiefling with a Shader-Kai mom, her father is a tiefling. These are characters my friend and I played as a couple (Shadow Sorc/Grave Cleric, Spirits Bard/Undying Warlock) that were on a villain arc NGL so when he started a campaign he asked if he could use them as villains and I asked if I could make Morrigan.

Her lore is pretty sad ngl, like her parents basically created her through dark magic. She has no idea about the outside world or how to people. She is the baby of the party at only 20 years old. Morrigan met the party as she was running away from her mom who wanted her to do some profane ritual to make her into a monster more or less... it's some dark stuff. Her parents aren't the main villains of the story, but they are ones they are going to have to face. She is much closer with her dad, who pops up and is actually chill with the party at this point. They are cute... and their story is gonna be so sad from the bits my DM buddy has let me in on to emotionally prepare myself.

Morrigan is going to have an artifact (think vestiges of divergence vibes - all the characters in the game have them) that more or less gives her levels in Undying Warlock. Between this and the stuff she gets from the homebrew subclass, we found her, she gonna be very hard to keep down Lich with domain and control over the undead. We keep joking between ourselves she is gonna be The Raven Queen of his world - or rather has the potential to be. As in the campaign, we played her parents - the whole side thing we did to amuse ourselves was try to have them ascend to godhood - because the game was otherwise very boring. We amassed an obscene amount of wealth, started a cult, owned an Air Ship, 2 warships... like what was left other than to become gods. However, for Morrigan, it's less of a desire and more she has no choice to seek the power to save the world.

She honestly is one of the most fun characters in a DnD game I have played because she is genuinely a very sweet person despite being someone who on paper should be a horrible monster. She doesn't see the undead as anything more than people and spirits. She thanks the creatures she summons for their help. She is more afraid of the living than the dead because the living have hurt her, her undead "friends" have only helped her. She tries really hard to be a good person by her standards - even when she suggests things like hunting down criminals so she can raise an undead crew for her ship so they could "Save gold and help people". She doesn't really understand her powers and thinks they make her evil because people never really wanted to help her before she met the party. Like really she is slowly becoming the heart of the party, which was not what I had planned for her. She was gonna be a goofball who could summon meat shields.

She had been in the background for a while as we all play 2 characters (small group, hard game needing a large party) in the game and i just wasn't enjoying a war cleric - I normally enjoy a Grave Cleric but was tired of playing the same cleric subclass. My other DnD character my Durge OC is loosely based on is from the same game and they are interesting contrasts. T'alice is a barb/rogue powerhouse and uses anger as her defense to cope with honestly some horrible things and is a self-loathing demigod who has no patience for Gods and their games. Morrigan was raised in a cult where her mother was viewed as their god, she uses humor as her main defense and she is blissfully unaware of a lot of the danger she faces. Tali is jaded... Morrigan is naive. The irony of it all to me is Morrigan would be considered of the two the morally good character, while Tali is honestly a little closer to evil but it's a the road to hell is paved with good intentions and bad rolls situations.

^ DnD accurate Tali btw. I did an honor run and was taken out in Grimforge.

I didn't do it on purpose but even their looks contrast each other. Tali is a Drow, dark dresses dark, has pretty short hair with an undercut in the picture. Where is Morrigan is pale... deathly so... with white hair, still dresses dark (cuz that's just a me thing) but is about a foot shoter than Tali and looks like a strong wind should take her down.

They are honestly my two favorite DnD characters, and honestly two of my favorite characters i have ever created and playing them both in the same game is treat really. Sounds chaotic - is, but so much fun.

#dnd character #just me rambling #i also made them in bg3

0 notes

horsedenial · 11 months ago

Text

The au is this

White diamond wants a disciple after pink has failed her so she makes one out of herself. It’s not strong enough to survive on its own so. She gets a human from the zoo selected for being exceedingly violent and clever. And puts a rock where its eye should be. She puts it through rigorous training and finds that human vessels, while useful in some regard, ultimately suck shit. But she doesn’t know what to do with this thing now because she can’t just turn it off without killing it. And it took a lot of time to make damnit! So she does some maneuvering and leaves it trapped deep inside the earth in order to “charge” so it eventually becomes strong enough to not need a human host. Obviously this doesn’t go unnoticed by the crystal gems and rose & pearl go investigate but r so horrified by what they see that they cause a cave in, hoping to kill it peacefully. They end up sealing the entrance permanently but it remains alive. Things stay like that for a really long time.

Young adult Steven falls ass backwards into it while on an adventure with the Crystal gems. Pearl has since forgotten about this shit and has her suspicions on what it might be but firmly believes her and rose killed it so she doesn’t speak up asap. Steven just has a bad feeling. Doesn’t help that it’s creepy asf too.

They r obligated to help this fucking thing. They stop calling it “it” cuz they (think?) she’s actually a girl. They don’t know cuz she doesn’t talk. She doesn’t do much.. doesn’t seem grateful to be freed, or malicious at all. Just kind of stares and hides in weird places to stare some more. Keeps killing random things and leaving them around beach city. Kills a farmers cow. Steven is like “what the absolute fuck” when he finds her but she pulls out a perfectly done cheeseburger and gives it to him. It’s really good. Maybe impossibly, evilly good. But like. It’s ultimately an act of appreciation, right?

Her gifts become more elaborate and strange. They veer on the side of complete insanity but are also sweet. In a way. All of it seems like a weird, overly complicated bit. It’s pretty much the only form of contact they have with her for 8 months until she just up and disappears one day.

She’s been building her strength up slowly. She does a lot of snooping to find home world’s weaknesses and methods of attack. She has a basement full of hypnotized gems she’s collected over the course of the year. Using them, she gets to homeworld and confronts white diamond!!!

It’s not a fair fight. WD kills her pretty much instantly. But her gem is now strong enough to exist without a human form!!! She respawns with her gem now on her forehead rather than her eye and her ability to speak restored. Then she amasses her army of hypnotized gem drones and kills the ever loving shit out of white diamond.

Idk what happen next maybe she becomes a war criminal maybe she just goes home like nothing happened and is like “what’s up steven!!!!!!! Guess who can fucking talk now bitch!”

That’s my Iliad thanks. Thank you. Thanks you.

#text #steven universe au

0 notes

evil-pnkcake · 1 year ago

Text

Name: Akane Mori

Likely locations: Tokyo, Osaka, Yokohama

Active period(s): 2000 - 2010

Role: A gang leader. Closely tied to Osaka yakuza, being their on-hand info source and human force back-up. Not a yakuza but she earned enough respect to be considered by some people as their sworn sister.

Likely first/quick impression: A little bit too loud and too harsh, flashy as a yakuza, big smile and contagious laugh. A note: to keep an eye on her.

More detailed impression: Generally sweet but brash. has a good head on her shoulders but usually keeps it dumb and light-hearted. Good humour, good heart. Have a way with words to get almost anything she needs and wants, have a way with a knife to cut her way to whatever she can't get.

Likely scenarios: Behind the back of Omi negotiators, smoking outside cabaret clubs with her girls, having chats with local low-rank families patriarch's. Can be spotted in Purgatory (strictly business).

Canon relationships: She was Daigo's classmate in high school, but now they're barely talk, being on opposing sides of never ending yakuza war. Her and Florist consider each other colleagues, unlike their clients, they have a warm relationship and a mutual love for gardening. She and her gang was also closely tied to Go-Ryu Clan after Ryuji Goda became it's patriarch, becoming his first-hand intel source - which in turn pushed her up the career path to be recognized as a reliable and stable source by higher-ups of Omi.

What can you do: seduce and be seduced, take her on a date, knife fight her in a dark alleyway, ask her for a favor or strike a deal. But honestly anything goes as long as it's not killing her! Also after her active years she retired from criminal biz, laying low at Yokohama, Ijincho, where she was born, to spend some quality time and to work at various bars - so do what you want with it!

Yakuza OC registry

The idea is to reblog this post and list your OC with just enough basic info so that others can easily name drop or reference them as an easter egg! feel free to also link any other more substantial informational posts you have; for this thread let's keep it nice and quick! I'll go first

Name: Kadokura Kenshi

Likely locations: Sapporo, Tokyo, Osaka

Active period(s): 1970s+. Depends on AU. hes alive or dead whenever he needs to be

Role: powerful CEO of Sapporo-based arms company Rachi Heavy Industries. Has ties with yakuza, but more or less a reputable businessman.

Likely first/quick impression: smiling, sharply dressed businessman.

More detailed impression: very strong jawline, short wavy black hair, gregarious and friendly—in a way acts more American than Japanese. Expressive hands.

Likely scenarios: being polite to service workers/giving good tips, schmoozing with powerful people, speaking foreign languages, getting very intoxicated at clubs or parties, (rarely) serial killing a homeless person or someone else 'no one will miss.'

Canon relationships: friends with Sagawa and Andre Richardson. Close professional relationship with Kitakata Daizo. Ties with Jingweon before the massacre. Knows all the yakuza brass in both Tojo Clan and Omi Alliance. Koga Matsuhisa started out as an intern with Rachi Heavy Industries and they're friends now.

What can you do : no holds barred. kill him brutally if you want. i will laugh heartily.

83 notes · View notes

sillyrabbit81 · 2 years ago

Text

The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood Part 3

Series Summary: Lori "Babycakes" Tate swore she would never date a biker but when her life is in danger, she is put under the protection of a small club known as The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood. She suddenly finds herself attracted to not one, but five bikers.

A reverse harem, biker AU.

Part Three Summary: Lori meets the Brothers.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC, Walter Marshall x OFC, Mike x OFC, Geralt x OFC, August Walker x OFC

Word Count: Approx. 4 k

Warnings:

Series Warnings:

Reverse harem, age gap (OFC 23, ages range from 23 to mid 40s), oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected p in v sex, anal sex, group sex, masturbation, praise kink, mentions of body fluids, drug use, recreational drinking, sex work, criminal activities, mention of death, violence, use of weapons, mentions of war, mentions of abuse, angst, fluff, probably a lot more that I will add as they come up.

Part Three Warnings:

Masturbation, caught in the act, flirting, smutty thoughts, embarrassment, angst, fluff.

Authors Note: Thanks to @henryobsessed for beta reading.

I hope you enjoy it!

Divider made by me. Edited by me, there will be errors.

Masterlist

Parts Masterlist

Part Two Part Four

Lori

We had only been on the highway for a few minutes when I heard the other bikes. They drew up in formation and briefly took up all four lanes. Each rider was wearing their colours and full-face helmets so I couldn’t get a read on any of them, other than they all looked to be close to Sy’s size and build. Well, except one, who seemed a little slimmer, but was at least as tall as the others.

One of the riders signalled something to Syverson who inclined his head in response. Then two of the bikes pulled ahead while two others fell behind and they stayed that way for the rest of the journey.

The problem with being a pillion on a motorcycle, especially on a long stretch of highway, was that you didn’t have much to do except think.

It wasn’t something I normally had a problem with, I was fairly comfortable with my own company for the most part, but I had a lot on my mind and not a lot of it was pleasant.

There was one incessant thought, one that wouldn’t leave me alone despite how often I tried to ignore it. It was inescapable considering my arms were currently wrapped around the subject of those thoughts.

Syverson. He was a complication in my life that I didn't need right now.

The first problem was that he was attracted to me.

I shouldn’t be surprised really. Not because I thought of myself as remarkably good looking, but because he’s a biker and I’d heard the phrase “any hole is a goal” uttered too many times by guys like him to take his attraction as anything more than a passing interest.

When I realised he was checking me out, my first thought was that I should take advantage of it because if I got him on my side it might make dealing with him and the rest of the Brothers easier. So I played up the innocent girl act by biting my lip and looking wide-eyed. But if I'm honest with myself, it had only been partly an act.

The truth was I found Sy to be ridiculously hot.

And funny.

And honest.

And kind.

And sweet Jesus, when he swept his thumb over my lips I almost moaned.

Which was my second problem. I was attracted to him too.

Sy might appear a little different to most of the bikers I knew, but in the end, he was in the life and that meant he was not a viable option as a romantic partner. I’d seen too much heartache and too many failed relationships to go down that road.

I loved my mother, but I didn’t want her life. A life walking around a clubhouse wearing a patch that read “Property of ….” so other assholes don’t try to touch you, always being worried about his fidelity and the social stigma that comes from being associated. Not to mention the constant stress of knowing your partner could end up in jail or dead.

Still, there was no harm in flirting with him, right? Who knows how long I was going to be stuck with them, so what was the harm in having a bit of fun? I’m sure he’d be up for it. I've yet to meet a biker who wasn't keen for a bit of no strings attached sex.

No, not a good idea. Not with Sy anyway. I liked him too much already. He had made me laugh for God’s sake. After all the shit I’d been through, it only took one perfectly imperfect wink for me to melt. If he'd tried to pick me up in a bar and he wasn't in the life, there's no doubt in my mind I’d go home with him.

No. Hooking up with Sy would be too risky. The last thing I wanted was to catch feelings.

I concentrated on ignoring how hard his body was, how good he smelled, how blue his eyes were, and how cute his dimples were when he smiled.

Fuck. Maybe it was already too late.

After a couple of hours of fixating on Sy and arguing with myself, I finally found something that took my mind off it.

I was freezing.

The icy wind of the Arizona desert cut right through my jeans. My knees were starting to ache and my leg muscles cramped.

I huddled closer to Sy, leaning my head against his shoulder to use his huge form as a windbreak. It worked, mostly, but my hands were unprotected, my gloves were no longer enough to keep my fingers from growing numb. I started making fists, trying to keep the blood pumping, hoping it would warm me up.

I felt Sy take my hands, one at a time, and slip each into his unzipped pockets in the front of his jacket. Instantly they felt warmer, and once again I was surprised by his kind gesture.

I tightened my arms around him, hoping he’d realise I was trying to thank him. He seemed to understand and gave my knee a gentle pat. He left it there for a few moments, and I could feel the warmth of him heating my cold knee through his glove.

Ever so slowly, he moved his hand down my calf and rubbed it gently, as if he were massaging heat back into my cramping muscles, before he worked his way up again. I held my breath as he patted my thigh and I squeezed him tight again, this time tightening my thighs as well.

I suddenly didn’t feel quite as cold.

I was not going to fall for him, I was not going to let his tender gestures fool me. I was not going to be seduced by a few moments of sweetness and a nice smile and a strong body and amused eyes so clear and blue they were like the sky on a cloudless day.

No way. Not worth it.

As soon as the cold ebbed away, a sudden wave of weariness hit me and I felt tired. Dead tired.

The rumbling sound of the v-twin between my legs, its gentle vibration at this speed, and the smoothness of the road became a soothing lullaby, and I found myself dozing, suspended in the twilight between being awake and asleep. It made the final hours fly by and it wasn’t until we turned off the highway that I was able to stay awake.

By the time Sy and the other riders pulled into a motel it was very late, well after midnight, and I felt a little sorry for the other guests. Not many people can sleep through the sound of one set of aftermarket pipes, let alone five.

When Sy killed the engine, I groaned as a muscle in the bottom of my foot tightened. It was gonna take a minute for me to get off the damn bike and I was a little embarrassed as the others were already lifting their long legs over their rides and Sy was waiting patiently for me to dismount. The guy who had signalled Sy on the highway headed towards hotel reception immediately, not even taking the time to remove his helmet.

I took a deep breath and willed myself to clamber ungracefully off the bike. My legs protested, but I was able to clear the bike before they gave out and I stumbled into a firm body that caught me by the shoulders before I ate pavement.

“Ooft! Easy sweetheart.”

I looked up at a man with a beard similar to Sy’s, but his hair fell around his face in thick curls, almost like a cherub from an old painting. His blue eyes were serious and a little stern, even as a smile split his face and his voice was unexpectedly warm. My breath caught in my throat, he was gorgeous.

“Has Syverson already worn you out?” he asked in a gentle voice with a soft and polite English accent.

His hands held my upper arms, straightening me until I was standing again. My legs still felt like jelly, and not just because of exhaustion. I was right when I thought the other riders were as big as Sy, this guy was at least as burly. But unlike Syverson this guy had the appearance of a cranky grizzly, having little of Sy’s playfulness despite his smile.

“Ease up, Marshall,” Sy said. I looked at him gratefully and one side of his mouth turned up in a smile in return.

“She’s fine,” Marshall said, and I turned back to him.

He was staring at me, his head tilted to the side showing off a large black and grey rose tattoo on his neck and a small gage in his ear. He looked like he was studying me, and from the wolfish grin on his face, he seemed to like what he saw. My heart started to race, thundering so loud I thought there was no way he couldn’t hear it.

“Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

I nodded slowly and Marshall tentatively let me go, keeping his hands close as if he thought I would fall again. Once he was satisfied I could stand on my own accord, he loosened the straps of my helmet and gently took it off before smoothing my tousled hair. He tucked the helmet under his arm while he helped me take my gloves off and shoved them into the helmet.

Two more bikers flanked Marshall. Both were unbelievably appealing too. One of them drew my attention immediately because of his unusual and striking appearance. He had silvery-white hair pulled back into a braid which isn’t unusual in itself but his face wasn’t that of an old man; he looked to be in his late 30s. The other was younger, probably my age, no way was he over 25. He appeared to have a youthful enthusiasm that I hadn’t seen in the others.

I stared at all four of them with my mouth no doubt agape. These weren’t bikers, these were models, each one more attractive than the last.

“I’m Mike,” the younger one introduced himself, grinning broadly.

He was cute and cheerful, his blue eyes seemed to sparkle as if he knew something you didn’t. He had a barbell piercing through his eyebrow and a small stud in one of his ears. There was a glimpse of a tattoo that poked above his jacket and up his neck, but I couldn’t make out what it was.

I instantly liked him and returned his affable smile. In a way, he reminded me of my brother before the drugs and the club sucked the life out of his eyes. I stuck my hand out to give him a shake, but before I could introduce myself, he threw his arms wide and wrapped them around my waist. He squeezed with a groan and lifted my feet off the ground. I yelped but started to giggle; I was not expecting this level of flirtation within seconds of meeting him. I liked it though, his flirtations came across as playful and fun rather than sleazy.

“Mike,” Sy barked.

“Fuck, alright.” Mike put me down but not before he whispered in my ear, “He never lets me have any fun.”

Mike planted a quick kiss on my cheek and let me go. Marshall must have seen because he smacked the back of Mike’s head.

“Fucking creep,” Marshall reprimanded.

I was worried that it would go further than that, but Mike just chuckled and rubbed the back of his head like it was something he was used to.

Sy stood beside me and laid a heavy arm lightly around my shoulders, directing my attention to the other biker.

“This old man is Geralt,” he said, smirking.

Geralt gave Sy a weary look from beneath lowered brows before he offered me his hand with a half-smile. I took it and I gasped as I looked at his eyes, I had never seen such bright amber eyes in real life before. They were beautiful and appeared to shine even in the darkness of the car park. I opened my mouth to tell him my name when I heard another voice behind me.

“Syverson.” A set of keys were thrown at Sy, which Sy caught easily in one hand. “Take the client to her room, you take the first watch.”

I turned to the guy, he wasn’t looking at me, his eyes were on Marshall, throwing him another set of keys.

“Marshall, you’re with Mike, second, third shift. Geralt, you’re with me, fourth, I’m fifth. Any questions?”

I felt Sy stiffen, seeming to bristle at the orders. This last Brother was obviously in charge and when he finally looked in my direction, I could see why.

He took my breath away. He was just as attractive as the others but he had a next level aura of danger that the others couldn’t compete with. He shouldn’t be so good looking; by all rights his Tom Selleck moustache should look ridiculous, but it somehow didn’t.

“Walker,” he said simply.

“Lori,” I managed to mumble. There was something about Walker that simultaneously made me feel hot and cold. He wasn’t tattooed or pierced the way the others were, but he was far more intimidating than the rest of the Brothers.

He smirked and raised his eyebrows as he looked me up and down.

“She’s pretty,” he said, while still appraising me, and obviously not addressing me, “but I don’t get what all the fuss is about.”

Heat rose to my cheeks as anger and embarrassment swirled within me. I was tired, sore, and been through hell in the two weeks since my parents had been killed; the last thing I wanted to do was get into an argument in a car park. But I knew if I was going to get any respect from this guy I couldn’t let his rudeness slide. I knew guys like Walker and I couldn’t let him get away with shit like that or he’ll think he can walk all over me.

I was also too exhausted to fight, too tense, so I snatched the keys and my bag out of Sy’s hands and made my way to the room.

“Jesus, Walker,” Sy said behind me. “Do ya always have to be such an asshole?”

If Walker replied, I didn’t hear it.

I opened my room and slammed the door closed, locking it behind me. I went straight for the bathroom, dropping my pack carelessly on the bed and stripping off my clothes as I went.

The room was basic but clean and well maintained, however the bathroom left a lot to be desired. I took one look at the showerhead and knew it wouldn’t be the best shower of my life.

When I turned the water on, the pressure was so hard I had to cover my nipples before I could stand to be under the spray. But the water was blessedly hot and was exactly what I needed to soothe away the aches and pains of the ride.

I leaned my forehead against the tiles and took advantage of the harsh spray, letting the water massage my back. It felt good, real good, and as my thoughts started to drift, a familiar need began deep in my core as my body cried out for my nearly nightly ritual before I slept.

My hand moved slowly over my breasts, nipples hardening under my fingers, I turned around, the water pressure no longer hurt, the stinging pain only served to heighten my arousal. I pressed my back against the cool tiles as my hand drifted lower, the competing temperatures made my skin feel electrified, sensitive to every touch. My fingers danced slowly over my belly, getting lower, and lower until they slid over the small patch of hair on my mound. I shivered as the pads of my fingers ghosted over my clit, seeking the warmth and slick of my throbbing heat.

A moan escaped my throat as I slid two fingers inside me, curling them deeply, feeling for that smooth spongy spot. It was hard to reach at this angle, so I widened my legs, curled my spine and groaned as I found it.

I closed my eyes, letting my thoughts wander, thinking for a moment of Jake, my sometimes fuck buddy, but quickly my thoughts shifted, and it was no longer his face I saw in my mind.

Images of Sy came quickly, the way he felt as I held him while we rode. How he had caressed my leg sent shivers up my spine as I imagined him touching me like that again, skin against skin.

But that wasn’t all, I thought of all of them, Marshall, Mike, Geralt, wondered how each of them would feel. Would their hands be rough on my skin? Would their lips be soft on mine? Would they grunt and groan? Would they whisper words of praise in my ear? Were they dominant, or primal, or tender, or giving, or maybe all of it at once? I know I shouldn’t let these men invade my fantasies, but God, I couldn’t stop.

Then I thought of Walker with that smirk, that teasing grin that made me want to both slap him and drop to my knees.

“Fuck,” I mumbled as my thighs started to tremble.

“Fuck!” cried a louder, deeper voice.

I froze. I became a deer in headlights as I looked towards the door and saw a figure distorted by the thin layer of condensation that clung to the glass of the shower.

Snapping into action, I swiped an arm across the glass catching a fleeting glimpse of a wide-eyed Sy as he slammed the bathroom door shut.

I turned the water off and grabbed a towel, my breath coming in heaves, my guts churning as my face burned with embarrassment.

Okay. Think about this clearly. He couldn’t have actually seen anything, the glass was too fogged up.

He had heard though, there was no doubt about that.

Oh God.

I had been thinking about him, and the others too. I had left the bathroom door open and everything, he’s going to think that I did that on purpose. But I didn’t, I had locked the door to the room and…

Asshole!

Fury overtook my shame and I stormed out of the bathroom.

“You pervert! I locked the door.”

Sy was standing by the window, peeking through the curtains. His jacket was off, slung over the back of a chair and a silver handled gun was strapped to his thigh. He turned slowly, taking in my appearance and sucked on his bottom lip as he took a few steps towards me.

“It’s a hotel, Babycakes. They have spare keys.”

“My name is Lori and I would have thought a locked door meant I wanted privacy.”

Shrugging, he grinned. “You ain’t gonna get much privacy until we get to the Clubhouse.”

“What? You’re staying in here?” My voice was a little shrill but Sy nodded and I shook my head. “No. I thought you’d wait outside the door. I don’t want to be sleeping here with… men I don’t know.”

I almost said Walker but stopped myself. Oddly he was the only one I didn’t feel like I could trust.

“You scared of us, baby?” Sy asked in a low voice.

The back of his fingers skimmed over my still damp shoulder and down my arm. For a moment I couldn’t breathe, his touch was eerily similar to what I had just been fantasising about, gentle yet deliberate, hot and thrilling.

“Why?” My voice was huskier than I hoped it would be. “Does that turn you on? Is that the kind of sick shit your club is into?”

“Not at all,” Sy replied steadily, smirking, “I like my women willin’.” He cupped a hand under my jaw, lifting my chin higher. “Did ya finish the job in there?”

My eyes widened in shock, I didn’t think he would be so bold as to come right out and say what he saw. He chuckled as his hand slid down my neck, resting on the bare skin of my chest.

“I could give ya a hand if ya want,” Sy said, his voice seemed lower if that was possible, deeper, rougher, deliberately seductive, “Might feel good.”

“Is that a standard service you offer as part of your contract or…?”

I tried to sound disinterested, but my voice betrayed me. I was breathless, my body was a hot, throbbing mess. Sy licked his lips and my eyes were drawn to them. They looked so plush and inviting, and the whiskers surrounding his mouth seemed so soft.

“It’s an optional extra,” Sy shrugged and his fingers traced the edge of my towel, “But for you, I’ll throw it in for free, no charge.”

“No thanks.”

It’s what I said but it’s not what I meant. I said no out of habit, having said no to men like him my entire life. It was a lie and an obvious one. My fingers were already sinking into his beard, and I could feel him clench his jaw beneath my touch and his nostrils flared. Taking half a step closer, I met his eyes. They were hooded, dark and still held a glimmer of amusement. His hand moved to the nape of my neck, the other snaked around my waist, resting on the small of my back.

“Then how ‘bout I eat ya pussy cause I want to?”

He pulled me closer, our bodies met and his fingers slid into my hair. I put a hand to the centre of his chest, I had every intention of pushing him away and he must have known because he held me tighter, pressing his hardness into my hip.

“’Cause I wanna hear ya make those noises again, but this time I want you to make ‘em because of me.”

My core fluttered, no it was more than that, every muscle in my body seemed to quiver with anticipation of his offer, and dear God did he have the confidence of a man that knew he could deliver.

“No thanks,” I managed to utter. Barely.

Sy’s grin didn’t waver as he inhaled deeply and let me go.

“Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug and went back to his position by the window.

It took me a minute to get my bearings. I was completely dumbstruck, still overwhelmed by Sy even though he was now across the room.

I cleared my throat and swallowed hard. Fuck me, was I in trouble here.

Sy glanced at me over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow as the corner of his mouth twitched in a smirk.

“You’re really gonna stay here all night?” I asked.

“For a couple of hours, then one of the others will take over,” he said, his voice sounding a little more serious and matter of fact than it had moments ago.

I didn’t like the sound of that. All five of them coming and going in my room while I slept, me not knowing who I’d wake up to?

Despite Sy’s advance or maybe because of it, I felt like I could trust him and would rather he stayed with me than the others. Having to keep an eye on one horny biker would be easier than having to watch out for five.

I took my bag from the bed and dressed in the bathroom, with the door closed. Though I was beat, I blow dried my hair with the shitty hair dryer the hotel had attached to the wall before braiding it.

While I was brushing my teeth I looked at my pyjamas in the mirror, realising now why Sy had chuckled when he saw them. When I packed, I had no idea the Brothers would actually be in my room with me. The tank top was so thin you could see the dark pinkish skin around my nipples.

The thought made my body warm. Part of me liked the thought of them seeing me like this. But I knew it would be a mistake to go down that road. Nope, my pussy would be a barren wasteland for the foreseeable future.

Pointedly not looking at Sy, I went back into the room and grabbed my shirt from the floor, turning it the right way round and slipping it on over the top.

First thing I was going to do when I got to the clubhouse was buy new pyjamas.

484 notes · View notes

lesbianspirirt · 2 years ago

Text

Masterlist: D.R Ideas

hey! this is a masterlist (obvi) of D.R/I.R ideas for you<3 please let me know if you like it, what reality you're going to shift to, and what other shifting content you want to see from me

just a nsfw warning, there are some mature themes in a lot of the media listed, as well as some jokes, swears (i think idk tbh), all below the cut

ALSO: please remember that reality shifting brings you to real worlds, the people in those places are REAL they have feelings, thoughts, they aren't just characters there!

Once Upon a Time (it's a T.V series based on fairytales, but it's kinda dark, never watched it tho so idk much about it)

The Wolf Among Us (telltale video game, similar vibes to Once Upon a Time)

Stranger Things (never watched it, but it looks horrifying so yknow)

FNAF/Five Nights At Freddy's (might start working on one for myself, kinda want to be a paranormal investigator in that world)

Elden Rings (I know nothing about the game so if this suggestion is ass just ignore it lol)

Halo (looks like a cool world but again idk what its like so)

Squid Game (don't remember if this was in my other lists and too lazy to check)

Minecraft (maybe not blocky cuz like that's nightmare fuel)

Days Gone (video game)

World War Z (never seen anything from it but i think there's a story and characters with personalities)

Scooby-Doo

Detroit: Become Human (i think i already added this in the other lists but whatever)

Red Dead Redemption

Doki Doki Literature Club (maybe, like, a normal version without the sentient computer storyline)

Yandere Sim (maybe remove Yan-chan cuz obvious reasons 😨)

Life is Strange (idk, seems pretty chill but idk much about it either)

Heavy Rain

Watch Dogs (kinda boring unless you're a super-hacker but hey, i need to fill this list lmao)

Pokémon

The Walking Dead Game: Michonne (don't think a lot of ppl know about this one)

Beyond Two Souls (kinda scary ig but cuz of the paranormal shit going on in that world)

that's all the new stuff, everything below this is form my other 2 lists since this post is a masterlist lol

Disney (I personally want to shift to experience the story of Frozen and Tangled since it's hinted that they're connected also bc I'm Norwegian)

Modern! A.U of media from your current reality

TMNT (whatever version you prefer)

X-Men

Teen Titans (i can't remember if I added it to the last one lol)

Justice League

Villain (not an excuse to kill, torture, etc.)

Sims (there's lot's of lore, lot's of the pre-made characters have cool stories, some are hot too)

Domestic (live a domestic life style with anyone you want to, you could have a few children or live like a house-spouse)

Divergent (recently. the movies were added to Canadian Netflix, it's kind of like The Hunger Games and isn't too bad other than the horrible love interest it should've been Christina and Tris they would've been so cute)

High School! A.U of media from your current reality (for example: Arcane in a high school setting, can be set in whatever decade or world you want)

Decade! A.U of any media from your current reality (script out the bad things cuz good god if it's anything like this reality, you'll be leaving asap)

Time Traveler (y'know, time travel)

Totally Spies

The Princess Bride

Percy Jackson

The Wizard of Oz

Avatar (the blue one)

Pirates of the Caribbean

Criminal Minds

Bob's Burgers

Modern Family

Artemis Fowl

The Maze Runner

The Owl House

Z Nation

The Walking Dead Game

Deadpool (his sidekick, side-chick, im not judging)

The Outsiders

Ouran High School Host Club (be rich, incredibly desirable, both, neither, whatever)

Your own Spiderverse world

Avatar The Last Airbender

The Legend of Korra

The Last of Us

Everything Sucks!

Birds of Prey

Victorious

Monthly Girls' Nozaki-kun (make manga with an unlikely group of friends)

Royalty D.R

Victorian Vampire D.R (maybe like just make yourself need rare steak instead of humans or something)

Animal D.R (try out living as a cat with some sweet folks or live as an ant idk just make sure that you can still think DO NOT let yourself forget to keep your human consciousness)

No Nips D.R (can you tell that I’m running out of ideas?)

Decade D.R (you got a favourite decade? one that has music, fashion and movies that you love? yeah)

H2O: Just Add Water (stay away from the condensation tho)

Genshin Impact (powers and you could be a god ig)

D&D (basically a fantasy D.R)

Randomly Generated Rom-Com (you don’t know what kind of story you’ll get to live through plus it’s a rom-com, no sad shit here)

any Tremors movie (movies are scary af, not really recommended but its your choice)

Arcane

Miraculous Ladybug (make sure you script out the uh, odd things)

Ghost D.R (scare, harass, haunt, whatever you want!)

Rage Room D.R (have a D.R thats just a room full of shit to break)

Pillow D.R (lonely and tired? just shift into a world where you’re sleeping on a hot persons thighs/boobs)

Mario Universe

Zelda D.R (based on whatever game or the show from like the 80s)

#shifting realities #shifting #shifter #reality shifter #reality shifting #reality shift #desired reality #desired reality ideas #intended reality #shifting community #shifting to desired reality #shifting to stranger things #shifting to the mcu #shifting to naruto #shifting to hogwarts #shiftblr #reality shifting community

123 notes · View notes

cherry-interlude · 3 years ago

Text

Lana Del Rey Songs Categorised

I didn't include a few but that's covers/demos / sorted by vibe/lyrics / there are other versions of this that could be made

Bad Girl - Lana's bad girl songs that make you feel cool af

Scarface

Summer of Sam

Making Out

Put Your Lips Together

Dum Dum

Kinda Outta Luck

Children of the Bad Revolution

Dangerous Girl

Girl That Got Away

Maha Maha

Hangin' Around

Catch and Release

Queen of the Gas Station

Gramma

Smarty

St Tropez

I Learned How To Make Love

Teen Romance

Prom Song (Gone Wrong)

Paris

Puppy Love

Television Heaven

Love

Back To Tha Basics

Brooklyn Baby

Me and My Boyfriend

Sweet Romance - Somewhat gentle and cute romance songs

Starry Eyed

When I'm With You

JFK

Because of You

Daddy Issues

Tulsa Jesus Freak

Bartender

Groupie Love

Lust For Life

Lucky Ones

American

Joshy and I

Dreamgirl

For K Part 2

You Mister

Coca Cola

How Do You Know Me So Well?

Stoplight Delite

Serious Romance - They have a more serious tone but they're genuinely romantic

Yosemite

Swan Song

Cinnamon Girl

Living Legend

True Love - Deep and romantic

Let Me Love You Like A Woman

Young and Beautiful

Life Is Beautiful

Venice Bitch

Love Song

California

Old Money

Off To The Races

Video Games

Never Let Me Go

On Our Way

Heartbreak - Songs for feeling all kinds of sad romantically

Thunder

Hallucinogenics

Fine China

French Restaurant

Hollywood's Dead

Your Band Is All The Rage

Afraid

Some Things Last A Hard Time

Happiness Is A Butterfly

White Mustang

Norman Fucking Rockwell

Terrence Loves You

The Blackest Day

Cruel World

Dark Paradise

Summertime Sadness

Blue Jeans

Pawn Shop Blues

Westbound

Methamphetamines

F You - Aimed for people who kind of suck

Tired of Singing the Blues

Noir

Playground

It's Not You It's Just Me

Damn You

In My Feelings

High By The Beach

Flipside

In The Sun

So Legit

Seduction - Sexual songs generally

Trash Magic

Us Against The World

Marilyn

Meet Me In The Pale Moonlight

Paradise

Playing Dangerous

Behind Closed Doors

You Can Be The Boss

Party Girl

Pussycat Kittycat

BBM Baby

Big Bad Wolf

Be My Daddy

Ooh Baby

Push Me Down

Delicious

Freak

Salvatore

Daddy's Girl

Burning Desire

Mermaid Motel

Yayo

Disco

Hey You

Body Electric

Kill Kill

Jimmy Gnecco

Wolf T-Shirt

Sad Romance - Kind of toxic romance or the darker side of romance

TV In Black and White

I Talk To Jesus

Colour Blue

Put The Radio On

My Best Days

Resistance

Velvet Crowbar

Breaking Up Slowly

Fuck It I Love You

The Next Best American Record

The Greatest

Cherry

Summer Bummer

Tomorrow Never Came

Shades of Cool

Black Beauty

Is This Happiness?

Million Dollar Man Pretty Baby

Drive By

Hey Blue Baby

Greenwich

Hawaiin Tropic

Axl Rose Husband

Butterflies Part 1

Heartshaped Chevrolet

Bellevue

Ben

How To Disappear

Dreamy - Aesthetically pleasing songs sonically, and a lot of Lana's songs are but these stand out the most

Yes To Heaven

Angels Forever Forever Angels

Ave Maria

Wayamaya

Roses Bloom

Honeymoon

Art Deco

Religion

West Coast

Guns and Roses

Bel Air

Cherry Blossom

Dangerous Love - Jealousy and obsession

Your Girl

Is It Wrong?

Jealous Girl

She's Not Me

Serial Killer

Caught You Boy

Roses

Criminal and Gangsta Love - The bad romances

Queen of Disaster

Backfire

Beautiful Player

Crooked Cop

Hundred Dollar Bill

Gangsta Boy

Live or Die

Hit and Run

Ghetto Baby

Every Man Gets His Wish

Live Forever

Bad Boy

Match Made In Heaven

Bops - They're good for bopping

Roll With Me

Motel 6

Florida Kilos

Brite Lites

Diet Mountain Dew

Boom Like That

Starlet - A lot of Lana's songs feature starlets but these are the songs that let her shine as a star

Hollywood Dynamite

Fake Diamond

A Star For Nick

Radio

Strong - Being the stronger one in the relationship

Lift Your Eyes

Serene Queen

Break My Fall

Big Eyes

I Can Fly

Get Free

Mariner's Apartment Complex

Ride

All You Need

Junky Pride

Move

There's Nothing To Be Sorry About

More Mountains

In Wendy

Wild One

Wait

Weird Vibe - They either sound creepy or just have an unsettling feel

Bentley

C U L8r Alligator

Strangelove

You and Me

Let My Hair Down

Get Drunk

Betty Boop Boop

Jump

Raise Me Up (Mississippi South)

Jesus Is My Boyfriend

Hmm - They could go into other categories but they are songs that have darker, disturbing elements

Baby Blue Love

1949

Roller Derby

Heavy Hitter

Boarding School

Ultraviolence

Lolita

Put Me In A Movie

Sad Girl - Songs with a sad vibe

Last Girl on Earth

All Smiles

Wait For Life

Hope Is A Dangerous Thing For A Woman Like Me To Have - But I Have It

13 Beaches

Heroin

Music To Watch Boys To

God Knows I Tried

Pretty When You Cry

Carmen

This Is What Makes Us Girls

Without You

Oh Say Can You See

Born To Die

Valley of the Dolls

Stripper - Pure stripper theme

Go Go Dancer

Dance For Money

Midnite Dancer Girlfriend

Other Woman - Pure other woman theme

Other Woman

True Love On The Side

Sad Girl

Cola

Next To Me

Money/Fame/Materialism - Songs that revolve around those three things

Money Power Glory

Fucked My Way Up To The Top

Gods and Monsters

National Anthem

Breaking My Heart

Makes You Think - Deeper songs

Coachella

God Bless America - And All The Beautiful Women In It

When The World Was At War We Kept Dancing

Beautiful People Beautiful Problems

Change

Money Hunny

Looking For America

Songs That Sound Like Diary Entries - More personal tracks

I Must Be Stupid For Being So Happy

My Momma

Wild At Heart

Dark But Just A Game

Not All Who Wander Are Lost

Blizzard

Elvis

White Dress

Aviation

Run Motorcycle

Out With A Bang

Dance Til We Die

Bad Disease

Fordham Road

I Don't Wanna Go

For You

Try Tonight

You're Gonna Love Me

Outliers - They're more happy

Come When You Call Me

Birds of a Feather

Driving In Cars With Boys

#lana del rey #lana del rey songs #lana del rey unreleased #may jailer #lizzy grant #aka lizzy grant #sirens #born to die: the paradise edition #ultraviolence #honeymoon #lust for life #norman fucking rockwell #chemtrails over the country club

1K notes · View notes

real-jane · 3 years ago

Text

nostalgia for the new

(bucky barnes x fem!reader, shield)

summary: Bucky overhears someone listening to big band music in the wee hours of the morning. The someone? A curious SHIELD spec ops agent, who doesn't seem to mind his tendency for nostalgia... and happens to be good at picking locks on ankle monitors.

warnings: um. pure fluff? very sassy reader who likes to swear, two idiots starved for touch, lots of references to 'dinosaur music', self deprecating bucky with burden trauma, more fluff and also fluff.

word count: 8.3k+

a/n: this is for @peterhollandkait who bemoaned needing fluff, who also loves the 'I hate everyone except you' trope, and who is directly responsible for my descent into madness... and will be very mad at me for writing this, in a loving way.

series masterlist - masterlist

Somewhere, in the deep recesses of the compound, someone was playing Benny Goodman.

He had tracked the lilting brass lick from the fifth floor stairwell landing--stopping at each ventilation grate to listen. Whoever was listening to Swing’s Senior Statesman occupied the eighth floor. There were only a handful of agents he knew by name, and none of them resided on eight. Could be anybody. It was gonna drive him crazy if he didn’t find the source.

Nobody was out and about in the halls after one a.m., at least nobody who wasn’t an insomniac super-soldier, but someone was awake in room eight-oh-five. There was no light from beneath the door, but Bucky pressed his ear to the smooth metal--this was the place.

He raised his hand to knock and froze. What the hell would he even say?

Hello, agent. It’s urgent that you tell me… why you’re listening to the King of Swing. Right now. Because… I recognize it, and…

And, what?

Hello, agent--you have the musical taste of a centenarian. As do I. Okay, goodnight.

He sat on the floor, beside the door to eight-oh-five, where the first real familiarity since his deprogramming flowed like a blessing. If he remembered Benny Goodman that acutely, it meant old Bucky was still in there. Pre-Hydra, pre-enlistment, innocent bright-eyed Bucky Barnes was perking up his ears from another realm, one in which he had never known anything but sweet girls with one-syllable nicknames, and dates to Coney Island.

Bucky raised a hand to card it through his hair, but his fingers met the unfamiliar shortly-cropped style Steve had urged him to get. Cap had personally escorted him all the way to Brooklyn, to a place called Sal’s with a spinning pole out front--familiar as ever--and flat screen televisions on every station showing the highlights of the current top professional football games.

Unfamiliar.

Steve had said a haircut would make Bucky feel like himself again. The only thing cutting off his hair did for him was remove a layer of safety from invasive eye contact… which, there was a lot of in a compound filled with SHIELD agents who didn’t trust war criminals. Spending forty dollars to have a kid named DJ give him a shitty fade certainly hadn’t been a comforting experience.

No. The one thing that made Bucky feel like the blue-eyed boy from Brooklyn was currently playing on the other side of the door. It wasn’t playing out of a radio, the way he had grown accustomed to when he could find the right frequency in Italy, clutching the little box against his ear for just four bars of Benny before the connection fizzled out… whatever device was playing it now, a phone maybe… the sound system had no problem managing the notes. The future was a strange and horrible place, all told. But there was still Benny Goodman.

Bucky lost track of how long he sat there. His fingers tapped through the melodies on the cement. His heart swelled with the brass. Sometime between midnight and dawn, something a little like calm took him over, and Bucky Barnes fell asleep.

***

You would have fallen on your face if it weren’t for well-honed reflexes, and non-slip soles on your sneakers, because there was an entire man asleep on the floor outside your room. Well--he was propped up on his knee, but dead to the world, with one leg stretched out in front of him. There was no question of who he was, but why… Why in God’s name was the former Winter Soldier parked on the eighth floor? Asleep.

As quietly as you were able, you pulled your door shut behind you. The faint click shocked the man awake, and he was on his feet before you could even greet him. His cheek was imprinted with the lines from the plates in his metal palm, the front of his freshly chopped hair was smashed upwards, and he whirled on you with wide eyes.

“Morning,” you managed, far softer and far more evenly than your racing heart could account for. The man blinked at you, not fully seeing you. He shook his head like he was erasing a bad dream. He frowned.

“Sorry.” He scratched his nape and stumbled away--towards the very elevator you needed to take to the ground floor, so you could run your morning laps on the track.

It would be… very rude to wait for the next elevator to come up, and very obvious if you turned around and made a beeline for the stairwell, so… you found yourself waiting several feet away from the bleary-eyed interloper to the eighth floor. When it became clear that he hadn’t actually touched the down button, you slowly reached forward and pressed it. The man beside you said nothing.

You’d never been within a hundred feet of Bucky Barnes before.

Every agent in your division was either afraid of him, or talked about him like he didn’t belong among the Avengers, and you had it on good authority that none of them had ever so much as shared an elevator ride with him, because he kept to himself. Sometimes he was waiting in the hangar when the quinjet returned, but only if the Captain was returning from a mission, and only if it hadn’t gone smoothly. He didn’t leave the compound, and he didn’t socialize. That was all anyone actually knew. Diane in Medical said she once got to see his metal arm up close, but Diane also claimed to have seen Tony Stark naked in the pool with Director Fury, so you knew better than to believe anything she said.

Also, she made weak coffee. Untrustworthy.

The elevator car arrived, the doors slid open, and Bucky stalked inside. He pressed his back to the glass and waited. You stepped in after him, flicking the bluetooth switch on your cordless headphones so they’d pair with your phone.

Barnes hadn’t pressed a button for his destination.

“Where to?” you asked gently. You looked at him when he didn’t reply--he was staring at the ground, unblinking. Before you could stop it, your hand touched his shoulder--the metal one--and you could’ve sworn that he gasped on contact. He looked at you from beneath the longest eyelashes you had ever seen. His eyes were piercing, like polished mirror. But he didn’t jump, or shake you off, or do any of the things that were flying through your brain as possible punishments for touching the Winter Soldier, himself. He swallowed. He breathed in slowly through his nose. Then, he spoke.

“Five. Please.” The ‘please’ was clearly an afterthought, and his voice was gravelly from not being used much.

“Sure.”

You pressed the button for five, and then the G with a star beside it. The doors closed, enveloping you both in contained silence. The feeling of the elevator descending made your stomach drop, which was enough to make you realize that you were still holding the man’s shoulder. Your hand snapped back.

“Sorry. I… shouldn’t have touched you. Without asking, that’s… super rude, I know I hate it when people just touch me without us even knowing each other. Especially someone from work, like…” you trailed off, and you felt your cheeks flush. “Boundaries, right?” It was the weakest attempt at small talk you had ever made, but you could not stop yourself from trying to be cool about being in the immediate vicinity of a man people largely avoided. Like you wanted to make him comfortable with you. Because everybody said he hated other people, he only spoke to Steve Rogers, blah blah blah--

“It’s… fine.” He shrugged.

The car stopped on his floor, but when the doors slid open… Bucky Barnes didn’t immediately exit, despite how much his body language seemed to indicate wanting to flee. Instead, he reached forward and hit the ‘close door’ button. It did just that. The car descended once more. He turned his body fully towards you and crossed his arms.

He cleared his throat. “I thought I heard… swing music.”

You looked at him with wide eyes. “When--last night? Oh, fuck… I thought I was being quiet, I’m so sorry--”

“No! No. No, uh--” He rubbed his cheek with his knuckles. “I haven’t heard Benny Goodman in, pshhh… seventy years, give or take?”

“So you… like him.”

“Like him? I saw him play at--”

Ding!

For one brief, blinding moment, Bucky Barnes had become a flowing beacon of energy, and then he stifled it just as quickly as the elevator reached the ground floor. There was pink in his cheeks. He stepped back so you could exit, and you paused with a hand on the bumper to keep the door from closing on you. Bucky Fucking Barnes likes big band music, you realized. You could not prevent the smile from pulling at the corners of your mouth.

“You saw Benny Goodman live?” you whispered. Those blue eyes flicked up to meet yours again. He nodded so faintly you nearly missed it. “Bet that was unreal.”

“Carnegie Hall,” he mumbled.

“Fuck. That’s incredible.” The doors lurched against your palm but bounced back open. “I have a record player. It’s not live at Carnegie Hall with Benny, but it gets the job done. I think you’ll agree that any Benny is better than none.”

His jaw was slack in surprise as he just stared at you. The elevator dinged--a sign that an upper floor had called for it. The man narrowed his eyes at you.

“Who are you?” he breathed, incredulous in his navy hooded sweatshirt with STARK ENTERPRISES printed up the sleeve, and black tac pants which clearly hadn’t seen any combat in a long time the way the dense fabric had softened in retirement. He wore black boots like he was going to be called on a mission any ole’ time, but clearly those worn things only saw the smooth cement floors of the compound because the leather would crumble in the heat of field work. He tapped his toe like he was waiting for you to explain yourself.

“Y/n. Agent 257, SHIELD spec ops. Benny Goodman aficionado. And... you are?”

Your hand extended towards him for the second time that morning, this time giving him ample distance to decide whether or not to take it. But… he did. His fingers dwarfed your palm, long and strong enough to shatter every tiny bone. He was very warm.

And of course you knew who he was… nobody could visit the Smithsonian and not become acutely aware that James Buchanan Barnes was an integral part of Captain America’s history. But the enlistment photo of baby-faced James Barnes was nothing like the man you shared the elevator with, and you didn’t want him to think that you presumed anything about him other than what he had personally shared. He wasn’t a figment of Diane’s imagination, a Howling Commando on a propaganda poster, and he wasn’t the Winter Soldier.

Not right now.

“Barnes. Um… Bucky. Fellow Benny Goodman fan.” Something strange happened to his face… almost like a smile. The deepening of dimples, even. The smoothing out of the lines between his eyebrows.

“Pleasure,” you said, and… it wasn’t a lie. You barely came up to his chin, but he was slouching down like he didn’t want to overwhelm you with his stature. Even bent over as he was, he was striking to look at. He released your hand, but as soon as his arm straightened at his side, his fingers flexed and opened again. This was a man re-learning how people were to one another.

“Sorry, and thanks,” he said quickly. “Just… thanks. For a reminder.”

“Of?”

He tilted his head to the side and considered you. “When things were simpler.”

“Sure,” you said softly. The elevator lurched for the tenth time and you stepped out of it, finally. Just before the doors closed, your new acquaintance raised his hand. His lips were pressed into a thin line, but you could’ve sworn the corner was turned up in the faint inclination of a smile.

As you ran your laps on the track, with the dulcet tones of Moonglow crooning between your ears, it came over you slowly, but… Bucky Barnes wasn’t frightening, like the Dianes among you said. He was a lonely person, far from home… clinging to something familiar. You didn’t know anything about that, did you? No… it wasn’t like you cycled through your Grandma’s record collection to send you traveling back in time to Christmases at her side, while she warned you off handsome boys with charming smiles, and taught you how to boil every kind of vegetable until it was grey. No.

You wouldn’t know anything about nostalgia like that.

what happened after bucky met the girl

For the rest of the week… Bucky Barnes was kind of just. Around. Not everywhere you went, but hovering by the elevator a few times when you came back from your morning laps. Twice actually sitting in the caf, which was not a thing his Avengers compatriots ever did. One time juggling a phone he didn’t fully seem to know how to use while passing by from the gym to the locker room. Every single time… he waved. He didn’t quite smile, but somebody was acquainted with the Winter Soldier enough to be greeted by him publicly, and it was you.

But it also became a fun little… moment, for you. He’d wave, you’d get close enough to toss out a quiet “hey, Benny” (which once had Agent Ellis asking you if you really didn’t know Bucky Barnes’ name or if you just liked being a bitch to “a man with no friends.” Except… he did have one friend, and not just the famous one with the justice fixation.).

It didn’t hurt to have a little bit more of that handsome face in your routine. His haircut became less severe--super-soldier hair seemed to grow a little faster--and his stubble stayed perpetually at five o’clock, much to your delight, and his eyes were a little less tired. They didn’t meet most people’s, but… he always looked you in the eye. The corner of his mouth would turn up. If he wasn’t careful, he’d lose his carefully crafted reputation for being repellant.

Entirely unrelated:, you wondered if vibranium was magnetic. It certainly seemed like it when he grasped your elbow to keep you from falling when your heel caught going up the steps. You know… conveniently he was just there.

Maybe you should’ve been creeped out. If he were an opportunist, maybe you would be. But Bucky Barnes let you brace yourself on him as you removed your broken shoe. You received approximately four emails about the sight of you holding onto his metal arm, smiling. One which included slightly blurry pictorial evidence. You saved that photo on your phone without shame.

There were no rumors to feed, or address. But if Bucky got fewer dirty looks in the hallways because you called him a silly nickname and took his help when he offered it… who cares if the gossip mill took a few rotations?

In the meantime you wondered… It had just taken a mutual love of music to find a friend in Bucky. Maybe there were other things that would help you breach his shell a little further… then, your meetings would be purposeful, instead of just… “accidental?”

***

He hadn’t meant to hover, but… M was playing on a massive television, which encompassed most of the wall of the lounge room, just off the communal kitchen on floor five (which was only used by Steve, Sam, Nat, and occasionally Bruce when he could be coaxed out of the lab). Seeing M in the cinema in 1931 had been a trip, the way the audience had squirmed. They were gripped by the story of the sympathetic murderer, put on trial by his peers. This was an old film. Only fossils watched stuff like it.

He found himself leaning against the island with an untouched pb&j in one hand, eyes glued to the screen.

Dot had hated it. “Who cares!” she had exclaimed, touching up the lipstick so sickeningly red that he had begged out of kissing her, for fear of being branded by the acidly crimson mark of a vixen he had no right to date. Dot. What a dame. He shivered. He hadn’t seen the end of that film with his criminally under-enthusiastic companion. He had spent far too much money to get her a black cab home without him at the end of the night.

“Jesus Chris, Benny!” Your voice from the couch made him jump about three feet in the air, and you peered at him over the back of the overstuffed pillows with wide eyes. “You’re too fucking quiet.”

“You have a sailor’s mouth. Benny.” He tossed the nickname back at you and took a bite of his sandwich to feign indifference, despite his confused expression as you paused the film.

“Do you… want to not be a creep, and join me?”

“I’m not the one watching M, doll--”

“I swear to god,” you gasped, grappling with the pillows to sit up and point at him accusingly, “if you tell me you saw this movie when it came out in theatres, I will murder you. With… this mostly-empty popcorn bowl.”

You held it aloft so he could see how very dangerous and roundly-edged your threat was. You couldn’t care less that you didn’t really know this man. You knew you were a lot to be around when you were worked up, and he could deal with it. He’d been around you enough all week without explanation.

This was his penance!

He paused with the sandwich half-inside his mouth. Then, he replaced it on the plate and folded his hands. He narrowed his eyes at you.

“Oh, no. I did see it, quite soon after it was released. In Germany. While I was stationed there, in the original German.”

You melodramatically gasped. “You’re a monster.”

His face fell, and he took a determined chomp of sandwich to hide it. “The sass,” he mumbled between bites.

You sat back against the pillows with a melodramatic huff, turning your attention back to the very old, very creepy movie which was paused on the tv.

There was something about him being there, talking to you candidly--it made you want to push his buttons a little. See if he had a sense of humor beneath that stark exterior. Belabor the point so he stuck around for longer than a wave and a smirk.

Also, there was the very real fact that M was a freaking masterpiece, and it gave you those full-body chills that were just unmatched by modern thrillers… and also Brock Rumlow had made a pass at you at the shooting range, and so the idea of watching a murderer get everything he had coming to him seemed very therapeutic, and being on the same couch as a very handsome man would make it even better. So… you really had every right to be sassy to him. All things considered.

Maybe you should go talk to someone about that, someone with a psych degree. Instead of Bucky Barnes.

He snorted. “Can’t believe you’re watching this alone.” He had migrated to the side of the couch, and stood there with his hands in his pants pockets.

“Imagine trying to sell anyone else on this movie,” you laughed lightly.

“Try me.”

You gestured to the opposite end of the couch. Please, your face pleaded. He folded immediately. Bucky sat, stiffly, sagging against the cushions.

“Picture this: Guy does bad things. Other guy knows it. Writes ‘M’ in chalk and pats him on the back so other people know he’s bad. The whole town shows up to prosecute him, and then you feel bad about it.”

His head swiveled towards you, and before you realized what was happening, he was actually--toothfully--smiling at you.

“That… was the sorriest excuse of a summary that I’ve ever heard!”

A shower of popcorn kernels pelted his upper body and head in retaliation. “You’re extremely rude.”

“Play the movie, already, Benny. You’re losing me.”

You hit play on the remote and watched him out of the corner of your eye. He picked a piece of popcorn from his sweatshirt and popped it into his mouth. His head laid back against the cushions, but he was engrossed in the film. Sure. ‘Losing him.’ If that rapt attention was what losing the Winter Soldier looked like, what the hell did ‘keeping him’ look like?

...your stomach and your cheeks conspired to turn you seven shades of red at your own, far-too-intrusive thoughts. Just like they had when he uttered that little honorific. Not Benny, but… ‘doll.’ The one that reminded you that he was approximately four times your age, trapped in the shell of a forty-year-old man who was far too handsome for how unapproachable he was. Maybe putting a man on ice for that long preserved that old fashioned goodness you’d heard so much about from Grandma Kath.

“Heaven forbid,” you whispered. If he heard you, he didn’t show it. Instead, he watched the rest of the movie with rapt attention.

Towards the end, his posture had changed. He rubbed his chin with one hand, while his metal arm was folded across his chest. He was frowning. As the credits rolled, he let out a breath like he had been suppressing it for a while.

“God. Brutal.”

“Yeah.”

He bounced his knee, staring up at the ceiling. “Why M, of all the films?”

You scoffed. “I had a little angst to work off from the day.”

His head swiveled to look at you. God, Frank Sinatra had nothing on those baby blue eyes in front of you. He raised an eyebrow, as if to say “tell me.”

“Rumlow. Wouldn’t lay off my form during target practice.” You rolled your eyes but the memory still bit in ways you didn’t want to admit, especially not to a man who seemed far too pressed down by his own memories to bear anyone else’s problems.

But. He raised the other eyebrow, and you couldn’t help yourself.

“I’m certified in every hand gun that SHIELD recognizes, I’m a dead shot, and yet that asshole thinks my form could use some work, and he said something really… really shitty, palmed my ass, and I put a hole in his shin, so. I’m sort of on probation until I either apologize, or Nick Fury decides that it was just a funny prank I played on his favorite covert agent.” Your cheeks were red and you were still as angry as you’d been standing over Rumlow, with your pistol smoking.

You didn’t regret it. But it had cost you all the goodwill you had built up in your tenure with SHIELD. It was lucky Natasha Romanoff had witnessed it all, or you were certain you would’ve been escorted outta there with a pink slip in hand. It was thanks to her that you were given the run of the Avenger’s lounge for the evening. Something about “solidarity between women,” and “best thing I’ve seen in ages,” she had said, before popping your popcorn herself.

You worried the slightly swollen tendons in your dominant hand (always happened after too long cradling a compact pistol) when his fingers slid into view. He didn’t touch you, but… Bucky patted the cushion between you in solidarity.

“I have one criticism.”

You looked up at him, confused. The man was smirking at you--an expression that gave you the tiniest glimpse of what sort of power he might’ve had over women in a freshly pressed uniform, and a hat sitting just so on his brow. You had seen photos of him as the Hydra asset, and he wasn’t half as terrifying that way as the idea of unadulterated Bucky Barnes straight out of the 1940s on soldier’s leave, in his dress uniform. The current incarnation of the man was much softer, more serious, but… certain charms could survive seven decades, and brutal mind control.

Dimples were forever.

“You’re clearly not a perfect shot,” he said. “If you were, I wouldn’t have had to listen to Rumlow whine this afternoon, while they pumped me full of someone else’s blood. All of Medical heard his griping. No, no… if you ask me, Benny, you should’ve aimed right between his eyes.”

“Oh god, I can’t imagine,” you laughed. “I apologize that I put you through that.”

“I wasn’t there long enough to hear the root cause, but I understood enough. Now I know that you are ‘that bitch’ to whom he referred, I’m sure you didn’t go far enough.”

“It is I. That Bitch.” You shared a smile with the man.

“It’s an honor,” he chuckled.

A bit of bravery flared in your chest. “That must mean you’re “the Scary Dude” that waits for Rogers on the helipad.”

“Yep. I’m also---” He used his fingers to list off-- “the Scary Dude who gets blood transfusions every Friday in Medical, Scary Dude who lives on five, Scary Dude who can’t leave the compound, Scary Dude everyone’s afraid to get within twenty feet of…”

“Mmmmm… sorry, I don’t see it.” His face had sobered, but he laughed at your words. “You’re telling me that you, Benny, you’re scary? Yeah… I think that’s bullshit.”

“Well, I don’t think you’re a bitch.”

“We’re even.”

“Guess so.” He huffed. “I could do something about Rumlow for ya.”

“Other than shooting him? Nah. Thanks for the offer, though.”

“Sure, doll.”

“Probably should’ve just gone down to the gym and sparred with the first poor sucker I found,” you said wryly. “But watching this movie seemed less destructive.”

“And you got a babysitting gig out of it.” He gestured to himself.

“What do you mean?”

He sighed and reached into his pocket. He offered his phone to you. On his screen was a blueprint of the compound, delineated by blue glowing lines. An indicator blinked with his name over it, and quite close in the image of the lounge, a smaller red indicator flickered. It was labeled ‘AGT 257.’ You felt anger flare in you.

“They’re tracking you?”

Bucky reached down and lifted his pant leg, urging it out of his boots. When the fabric was free, he was able to show you the monitor affixed to his ankle.

“You don’t go anywhere because… you can’t.”

“Mmhm.”

You stared down at the glowing dots, which approximated the two of you as little blinking targets. You knew that interface… before you could second guess it, you brought up the keypad of his device and typed out the code which you had taken part in setting, for a security system, which you hadn’t been given clearance to know anything else about. Without knowing it, you had had a hand in creating that very program.

A Bucky monitor.

You swiped away the keypad and the indicator with Bucky’s name over it came to a standstill. It was still as bright as ever. But it was frozen. Only someone who intimately knew the system would know why it wasn’t blinking anymore, and the only person who knew for now was you. Disabling the tracking was simple, because you had been told it was needed “simply to help disguise or locate agents in the field…” well. You didn’t much like being tracked. And Benny Barnes was your… Well, he wasn’t what they said he was. Not if he liked swing music and old German movies. So.

“What?” he asked. You handed him his phone back, and smiled angelically.

“Hey, do you wanna see that Benny Goodman record?” You stood up from the couch quickly. You had only jammed the system for five minutes. It was the genius of the system--a stop/gap that could also jam infiltrating systems. But you didn’t have long to get him outta there before whoever was monitoring him realized it. You could engage the blocker in your room if you made it before the program was back online, and give him a taste of freedom.

He clocked the grin on your face and frowned. “You don't gotta humor me--”

“Yes or no?” You held out your hand to him and bounced on your toes.

“I mean--”

The metal of his hand was so cool in yours but you yanked him up, and didn’t give him time to actually turn you down before you ran for the elevator. He was faster than you, hot on your heels, and as he came around to what you had done, he squeezed your hand tight.

“My monitor isn’t buzzing,” he breathed as you pressed the up button far more times than it required.

“Wonder why!”

The doors opened and you dove inside. You pressed floor eight. The doors shut. He loosened his grip on you in the course of the quiet ride upwards, but he didn’t let go. You glanced at your own phone. Two minutes until the system un-jammed.

The doors opened again, and you ran full-tilt down the hallway to your door, knocking your wrist against the doorknob as you fumbled to press your thumb to the bioscanner. “Fuck!”

“You good?” he breathed behind you. Your door unlatched, you pushed him inside, and the telltale sound of his monitor resuming its buzz sounded just as your door locked again. You sagged against it. The location would still ping the monitor, but it would look like it just… blipped away in your hallway.

Fuck, indeed.

Your wrist ached. A few fingers massaging it helped, but you’d need to ice it before bed. Ice cold reality hit you when your vision focused on the toes of worn black boots.

Bucky Barnes was inside your bedroom… and you had dismantled his babysitter program. Aaaaaannnnndddd somebody had probably realized it already. And he was staring at you, and he was so damned cute--

Play it cool, woman. You shook out your hand and shrugged.

“I, uh… sorta had a hand in the beta run of that program,” you said, pointing to his pocket where he had stashed his phone to make a break for it. “So. I… also happen to know how to disable that ankle monitor. If you’re so inclined. Oh--do you like Édith Piaf?”

You had trailed off further into your living space--really, it was just a small studio with a bed (which you hadn’t made one time since you moved into the compound, to your ever living shame now that there was a fully grown man there to witness it), a desk, several bookshelves, a small wardrobe, and a personal washroom. Your record player sat open on your desk, with the small stack of records beside it, which you had sorted through the day prior, once you returned from your run and thinking solely about how the man currently in your bedroom seemed to love the ‘good stuff.’

“Who are you?” His voice filled your space. It was such a warm timbre, and you wondered how anybody found him the least intimidating.

“Y/n L/n, Agent 257--”

“I know, I know,” he laughed. “You’re an enigma.”

“Thank you?”

“Oh, that was definitely a compliment,” he said softly. “And yes… I like Édith.”

***

He watched with rapt attention as you disabled his ankle monitor, all while Édith Piaf sang something nice about not having regrets, fingers curled against his skin to wiggle the magnet under the weighty mechanism which had been bruising his ankle for months. Your hair had dislodged itself from its messy bun--

“Je me fous du passé…”

You snorted. “Everyone cares about the past, Piaf.”

He swallowed. Hard. If that was so, then who was he to disagree? He was a man with far more lifetimes of past than most men got, and… all of it clouded by horrors. And if Édith Piaf was wrong, that she couldn’t cast away her past and declare that she was beyond regret, well… he wasn’t quite sure he’d survive a world where Édith Piaf was wrong.

The latch popped. The green light faded out. Your fingers brushed over his ankle bone, but stuck there, poking around at a spot which was especially tender. He sucked in sharply. When you looked up at him, sorry as you were for causing him harm, he sighed.

“You weren’t kidding,” he said.

“We can’t help ourselves,” you said, turning back to his ankle, and smoothing your thumb over purple bruises that the band had created with friction and time. “We are built by it. It’s not who we are, but… our past still shapes us. We have to care. Don’t you think so?”

“…I meant about the ankle monitor.” He twisted his mouth to keep from smiling when you narrowed your eyes.

When you handed it to him--the device, which had rendered him completely captive for months on end, which constantly buzzed against his bone--he shook his head silently. You stood, because you seemed to need to busy yourself with being out of arm’s reach, but you leaned into your desk as Édith’s grief weighed like yours--like his. Bucky wondered, with Doc Raynor’s words in the back of his mind… what’s she carrying that isn’t hers to bear?

He traced the shape of your profile in the dim light from your desk lamp, the subtle glow behind your head.

“I’m gonna get in a lot of trouble for that,” you giggled. “Gods. What would Diane think of me, now?”

“Diane?”

You made eye contact over your shoulder. “Blonde. Works reception in Medical.”

Bucky knew exactly who Diane was, because the last woman to infringe on his space without asking--but without the charm of a girl who knew why Édith Piaf mourned, or Benny Goodman wailed--was Diane in reception. His first real bad turn in Medical, the one which had earned him another two month stay in Wakanda against his will, and the blasted ankle device upon his return. She had fawned. She had clutched at the old Hydra model of his infamous arm, urging him to relax, and he had felt the plates reject the very notion of being caressed. The woman had been zapped on a rogue wire.

Interesting that the new arm had no trouble with you touching him gently. He could’ve sworn the dumb thing purred. Nevermind the fact that he couldn’t stop freaking smiling around you. It was embarrassing. He had a reputation to maintain--people to keep away. The less invasive the better. He wasn’t afraid of being triggered anymore, but… after years of being the guy Steve Rogers went to war for, Bucky was just so tired of only having Steve.

There was another world, one he had only found in his dreams, where there was someone who didn’t make him feel like… he was a burden. Not Steve’s, or his country’s, or anyone. Sam was as close a friend as he had found to Steve, but even Sam bore the brunt of expectation on his back in the compound, so. That left Bucky feeling mighty alone.

Except… this last week. There was You.

Five rapt knocks echoed through your tiny suite and Bucky winced. You frowned at him--was that a hint of regret? He braced himself on his knees. The consequences of an evening with you were about to fall heavy on your head, too. He heard your door unlock and the hinges squeaked as it opened.

“Can I help you?” Your voice was sickeningly sweet, and Bucky couldn’t help but smile into the safety of his knees.

“Buck,” Steve sighed.

“Cap,” Bucky replied, but he didn’t look up at his oldest friend. Édith Piaf taunted Captain America in the doorway.

“Allez, venez, Milord!”

“You can’t take the monitor off, Buck. You know that. I get a call from Fury himself askin’ me why you’ve disappeared off his radar--”

“He didn’t take it off,” you said firmly. “I did. I know where he is. He’s here. So. No monitor needed. Thank you, goodnight Captain America--”

You must’ve tried to close the door in Steve’s face because the metal bounced off rubber with a twang--Bucky heard that sound a million times in the fights both with and against America’s hero. He allowed himself to peek over his elbow, and Steve rubbed his face. He was in his gym clothes and a hoodie--he wasn’t kidding, Fury must’ve called him immediately away from his usual Friday boxing sessions with Sam.

Steve fixed his eyes on Bucky and nodded to the door.

Bucky moved to stand, but you side-stepped around the Captain so you were between them. Your finger pointed at Bucky as if to warn him to remain where he was.

“Can you explain to me why this man here is being kept like a tiger in a cage?”

The pitch of your voice was in direct conflict with the wailing French chanteuse, but you made no move to either lower the volume or turn it off, and neither did Bucky. He watched your fingers dig into your hips as you took a fighting stance. Your hips canted to one side--you were all leg. You also happened to have beautiful hind assets, which James Barnes was too much of a gentleman to fixate on. Much. But you were standing right in front of him, and directly in his line of sight--

“I don’t like it either,” Steve sighed, “but it’s a condition of his pardon.”

“It’s a dumb condition,” you insisted.

Bucky sighed. It was not worth the energy you expended, even if hearing you do so on his behalf did things to him, things which he ought not even think about in your presence.

“Doll--”

“Hush, you. You realize that he’s a marshmallow, Rogers? Why are you letting Fury decide whether your buddy can eat a sandwich without surveillance? You vouched for him. He’s done his work. Let the poor man listen to some freaking music in peace.”

Steve was silent for longer than seemed necessary, but he reached over and flicked the record player off. He was much taller than you, and yet you weren’t cowed. Bucky shook his head as Steve patted your arm. “Steve Rogers. Who are you?”

“Why do you old men keep asking me that?” You ask, as you took Steve’s hand. “Y/n.”

“You shot Rumlow,” Steve said with a touch of admiration.

“You’re a legend now, doll.” Bucky’s chest tightened when you glanced at him, eyes glinting with glee.

“Nat is your biggest fan.” Steve’s face betrayed amusement and he let down the front of intensity he had put up, clearly having expected to be confronting Bucky about what was going on. Now that it was a legendary agent, the likes of whom Natasha Romanoff was praising, Steve was more than happy to relax.

He still shot Bucky a pointed look.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, shook his head--leave it, Rogers!--but Steve folded his arms. He leaned back against the wall (classic Rogers I’m-About-to-Dad-You-About-Something pose). Bucky’s head fell against your mattress. He hadn’t really been thinking about it when it was just the two of you, but once a third person entered the strange sphere of understanding he felt… guilty.

No, no--you don’t get to regret this, James Buchanan Barnes.

She’s nice--pretty, even.

She likes your dinosaur music, and weird movies.

She’s hilarious, and she isn’t afraid to shoot assholes.

She’s the first shred of evidence that you have some goodness left in you. And if there’s just one tiny piece of good left, that’s enough to hang your hat on.

“You’re smiling.” Your voice was soft next to his ear. Bucky’s eyes flickered open. Steve was gone, you had put something else gentle but swinging from at least the Cretaceous period, and you were pressed up against his left side--the arm that didn’t like Diane, but seemed to be awfully pleased to have you near.

“Penny for your thoughts, Barnes?”

“I…” he laughed, and stopped himself. “I don’t know. Is that ok?”

“I suppose.”

“Did you call me a marshmallow?” he asked in faux annoyance. You rested your elbow on the bed behind his shoulder, and turned your knees against his thigh, beaming.

“That’s what you are, Bucky Barnes.”

He patted your knee, but the hand remained there, tightening for purchase. “I’m not, doll. You… you get that, don’t you? It’s nice of you, what you said to Steve, but. They’re right to keep watch on me.”

Your irises flicked back and forth between his as you studied his face--Bucky didn’t like being looked at, perceived, but your gaze just wasn’t the kind he used to hide from behind a shield of unkempt hair. It sort of felt like… you saw through it. Beneath the wrinkles formed through decades of pain, beneath the hardened mask and dark circles under his eyes… he wondered if you would’ve taken a second look at him if he was just a soldier on leave and you were a sweet girl he met in a smoky bar. The kind of girl who would see through the soldier’s bravado, too. And the programming, and what he had done.

“You think so loud.” You brushed the vein in his forehead, smoothing the worried wrinkle that lived between his eyebrows permanently. Bucky shivered.

“You got me thinkin’.”

“Sounds dangerous.” You grinned.

Bucky squeezed your knee and wrinkled his nose up, but he was so far from annoyed by the girl who got him thinking like a boy again.

“Bucky,” you said gently. “I know what they say about you. I’d have to be stupid not to hear the gossip that goes on in this place.” Your fingers touched his temple experimentally, and Bucky closed his eyes. “I also have approximately zero space for people who make me uncomfortable, and… there’s just something about you, Tin Man.”

“Hmm?”

“Mmhm. Is this ok?” By then, your knuckles kneaded a slow pattern in the base of his neck, working at a knot that probably fed off the way his bones bore the vibranium prosthesis, at least that’s what Bucky figured based on the way Banner kept sending him referrals to the physical therapist on staff. The green guy wasn’t subtle. Bucky opened one eye.

“Doll, people don’t… touch me. Generally.”

“So that rumor about you giving out Free Hugs on Fridays…”

“Totally false.” He smiled.

“Good to know. What other music do you like?”

“Trying to distract me?”

“It’s working.”

“I saw some Ella Fitzgerald over there--”

“Say no more.”

You stood, pushing off his shoulder to get some leverage, but he held fast to your hand. You stopped, looked down at him… he hoped he’d remember the softening crinkles by your eyes for the rest of his life. It just took a tug and he was up, too. You pressed his cool metal fingers to your hip so you could stay connected, but reached over and changed the record. Bucky watched the curve of your neck as you set the needle in the right groove. That place on your neck looked special. Soft. Like it was in dire need of having nice things whispered into the freckles it bore. His other hand found your right hip, just grazing there. The music started up again.

God, he had listened to that song a hundred times, but it never sounded like that before. Maybe it’s because you turned between his hands, your right hand sinking into the coolness of his left and holding it to your heart. Maybe it’s because your left hand guided his right around your back, and you stepped into his chest. He sure was thinking, a mile a minute.

No, there’s no way he ever would’ve heard this song this way before he knew what loss felt like. He used to take it for granted, holding a girl in his arms while a band crooned away, but. Ella Fitzgerald and You were all he needed just then.

You smelled like lilac, and you hummed against his neck in a way that had Bucky seriously pondering if he was actually just dead or dreaming--then, you laughed, and he was so glad to be alive. Your grin turned up at him. He couldn’t help but smile back.

“I told Captain America to get lost,” you whispered. “And he listened to me!”

“Apparently,” he chuckled.

“Can I make an observation?”

“Don’t know if I can stop ya, doll.”

“You’re nice to be around,” you said, “and I think you’re a little dizzy for touch, but… so am I, and I’m big enough to admit that.” You rubbed the nape of his neck, memorizing the growth pattern of the gentle swirls which were only just long enough to start forming. “But if you feel differently, at any point… that’s okay.”

“I’m… I dunno,” he blushed. You were right. He could tell he didn’t need to confirm it. But if he ever felt differently, it wouldn’t be feelings of retreat. He didn’t know the meaning of the word.

“S’okay. But you have a standing invitation to my private jazz club any time. And to lunch, or if you want to spar, or watch really weird foreign films that nobody else would care about… or if you, like me, really need to feel like it’s okay to take up a little space on this god-forsaken earth without owing anybody anything…” You shrugged. “Then I’m game.”

It didn’t take much from the position you were in for Bucky to engulf you fully in his arms. Your toes barely grazed the ground--in fact, you wound up standing on his shoes--and he let himself press his lips to your neck and hold you. He couldn’t really wrap his head around it, the offer you made. But that wasn’t something he needed to really grasp all at once.

That night, Bucky Barnes just needed to sway while holding a beautiful woman who said nice things in his ear.

The Winter Soldier was still notorious around the compound, but… his reputation suffered a cataclysmic shift in the days, weeks, months that followed.

He was seen every morning jogging beside you, Agent 257, each of you with one earbud in your outside ears as you kept pace side by side. He took his meals in the caf in a booth by the window; he ate a strict diet, which was capped by a brownie he shared with his meal companion--You. He bought a motorcycle, and you rewired it so he could blare the top forty of the 1940s at will. Which he did, whenever he liked, and Fury fielded enough complaints to have a solo garage built for the man.

He smiled. Not at people, but at You. He made you coffee so strong you had to beg for mercy.

He didn’t wear a goddamn ankle monitor anymore. Sometimes he got to leave the compound--with you and Steve as his escorts, but at least it meant occasionally seeing a movie or watching the sun set over the National Mall, with one arm around You… and Steve Rogers sitting fifty yards away in a baseball cap and sunglasses, absolutely invisible.

When you were off duty, he’d meet you in the gym to spar. If you were on duty, he’d spot you at the range. When you were sent off-site for missions, he would always be waiting in the hangar for you to touch down again… having anxiously watched a program on his phone, which allowed him to monitor your location at all times you were apart. It had taken about half a mission of Bucky pacing Tony’s office for the man to hook him up with his own surveillance that linked to your beacon.

He bullied Banner for your blood work that time you got hit by a sniper, and got himself banned from visiting Medical. He talked spec tech into a new kevlar suit with a better brace for your shooting hand. Bucky had your six, and you never allowed him to question whether or not his efforts were appreciated. You wrote him so many thank you notes that he had to buy a book to press them in (and definitely didn’t read them when you weren’t around).

His fingers gravitated to yours, or your back if your hands weren’t free, or your waist if you carried something heavy up stairs, or to your shoulder to take your bag, or your hair to ease your aching head when stress became too much. And it never mattered who was around. He was private, but you were too important not to hold.

The first time you were off the compound longer than a week, Bucky met you at the bottom of the ramp of the quinjet--and suddenly, he was known for kissing the life out of a top level agent in front of most of the Avengers and God and frankly, he didn’t care who else. Nobody knew that was the first time he let himself kiss you like that, but they certainly knew that the Winter Soldier had his girl. He courted you at the pace of a snail, but he made oaths only meant for you shortly after the public kiss, while Benny Goodman played in the background.

You made your bed for him. He unmade it, with your help.

It wasn’t absolution, or some kind of amends for what he had been or done. You were the exception--nostalgia and future in one. That was the thing about Bucky Barnes: he found himself somewhere between who he was before Hydra ever touched him, and who he could be after You touched him, and it didn’t matter what anybody else thought of him. You had a way of bringing out the very best in Brooklyn’s blue-eyed boy.

All it had taken was super-soldier hearing, a touch of insomnia, and Benny Goodman.

***

Thanks for reading! Part 2

#bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes one shot

563 notes · View notes