#or has an eureka moment

[wildstar25]

MiqoMarch Day 6 - Secret

The jealousy that began to bubble up, though likely pointless to hide from her of all people, Arsay desperately tried to keep a secret from her dear friend Krile.

[coffin-ramblings]

Ashley is "very not good" and "in fact very bad". That is what the promo card tells us.

The flippant attitude to cannibalism and murder, the abuse and manipulation of Andrew, and constant death threats to Julia prove that, so why do they need to say that? Isn't that enough to prove that she's a bad person? On the same promo, we are told Andrew "exists" and is a "doormat extraordinaire", which while true, is a lot more complicated than it looks. He does not just "exists", he was the one who raised Ashley thus one of her "creators", and he is not that much of (if he ever was) a doormat extraordinaire, he lets Ashley make the choices because it's what he wants, and has asserted power several times throughout the game for his and Ashley's benefit. So is what the promo says about Ashley completely true in light of that? Is the truth perhaps a lot more complicated, as it was with Andrew?

Furthermore, it's quite odd how Ashley is quick to accept being called a "tar soul" and how she implies she's a bad person too when she and Andy buried Nina's body.

And in Decay vision, if she kills Andrew, she goes on a rant about how she's glad he's dead, despite it clearly being the worst thing she has ever experienced.

While it's easy to think that she's having a mental breakdown and saying stuff out of madness, I have seen someone (can't find the post though) argue that this is Ashley's attempt to continue her self-narrative that she is a "bad person". She believes no one likes her because she's a bad person. She thinks not even Andrew likes her, and she "has to" drag him the "good person" to be her level of the "bad person" to keep him stuck with her. And when she kills her brother, her parent, her best friend, her soulmate, her everything, she immediately jumps to the justification that she is glad that he died instead of being devastated that he tried to kill her, because bad people can't feel remorse and heartbreak from having to kill someone they love, right?

And I'm inclined to agree with them. Ashley's thought process of pranking Nina is that she'll have her back as a friend after she learns her "lesson", even though she isn't happy being constantly left out or avoided by her.

She didn't hate Nina then, she was afraid of being even more lonely than before if Nina takes Andrew's attention away from her. And her initial reactions to Nina's death was to go "oops", try to justify why she died, cover it up by burying her, and after she's buried, Ashley says that she can just forget about her by not thinking about her for a long time.

That is not the reaction of someone "bad" reveling in their victory of an innocent person's death and trying to get away with it, that is the reaction of a kid who went through something traumatic, not want to get in trouble for it, and trying to rationalize it with something that sounds like an adult in their life (Renee?) would say. Then their brain triggers dissociative amnesia because remembering it would cause great stress and PTSD. Given how stressful Leyley's life was and still is, it makes sense that's her brain's main coping method, and Nina's death was just another instance of it shunting trauma away in an attempt to keep PTSD from happening. It is likely that amnesia made Ashley quite forgetful, as dissociative amnesia does not affect just one singular event, it also affects other memories as an overprotective measure. This also may be why she develops such a flippant attitude to their crimes: joking about them helps her not have to confront the weight of what they just did. Thus, even that attitude being a marker of her being a "bad person" is more questionable. Really, her actions that have the intent to directly harm people are what her make a bad person, but I digress.

The idea that her flippant attitude is perhaps not a good marker of her being a "bad person" is best shown in Episode 1 after they eat the neighbor. Ashley is made aware that her devil-may-care attitude is quite abnormal and worrying for Andrew, which worries her. If she talks before going to bed, she gets visibly confused and worried at Andrew saying she needs to see a professional.

When he later asks how she's so unbothered by the cannibalism, she replies she says she compartmentalizes nervously, which she then follows up afterwards with a joke to not have to dwell on it.

That specific coping method of compartmentalization is the same thing Andrew's brain does in his dream in Episode 2, where it ends with him having a flashback of burying Nina.

In fact, it's interesting how we never get to see adult Ashley's every day psyche. This is not the same as seeing her thoughts and perspectives in the waking world, nor is it the same as the Burial vision where it's Ashley's self-narrative of her life from childhood to adulthood and how she potentially changes it. We never get to see her dream without it being a vision, a glimpse of what her mind looks like in the present processing her experiences in the every day and the past.

This is particularly crucial because while Nina appears while Andrew's brain is doing its standard compartmentalizing of Andrew's current stresses, the only times Nina appears in Ashley's head (outside of Burial vision) were flashbacks of when she is doing this as a child. While it's framed as the moment when Andrew "proves" his devotion to her, flashbacks similar to PTSD ones can happen alongside dissociative amnesia, and they do occur in dreams. Even though Ashley has forgotten Nina's name and eyes, she is always there, haunting her dreams.

This all suggests that the plot twist of our perceptions of the characters in episode 3 is that when we finally get to play Ashley in her normal dreams or see her mental breakdown (maybe if she kills Andrew?), we find out that she feels some sort of guilt for Nina's death and perhaps their other crimes. Even though she insists to herself she doesn't feel guilt about that because she is a "bad person", it is all a lie that she manages to convince to herself and the audience. This would be very shocking as we're in her head a lot of the time, so we'd assume she can't lie to us. But she has all along, just like how Andrew has to us.

[nenekobasu]

I’ve been reading some of your analysis posts for a while, and one thing you keep emphasizing is how Isagi is a key in Blue Lock, while Kaiser is Blue and a Lock. And another is how Isagi is a gun in a team of swords

I agree a lot on what you’ve said about Kaiser (neo egoist, new hero), but I’d like to talk about Isagi.

Is it so bad that he is a key in Blue Lock and a gun in Bastard München?

For a while now, I’ve thought of Isagi being too much of a goody two-shoes. He listens to everything Ego says without question, and he always look as if he has some kind of mindblowing eureka moment when he does. I think it would be nice if he challenges Ego on some stuff and gain his own unique football philosophy, similar to how Kaiser challenges Noa to instead play like how he likes.

Maybe that’s the point of Isagi being a key and a gun.

Although I admit it’s too early for Isagi to deviate from Ego’s ideals, as he himself can’t seem to visualize past it yet, this build-up is just in time.

hi, thanks for the question. if i'm understanding the ask correctly, the sum of your argument seems to be "the point of isagi's nel arc development is that isagi demonstrates he can challenge egojin in the realm of thinking/ideals/etc, by creating something original to him" (if this is wrong i'm sorry and please disregard the rest of this answer)

starting off, i can't refute this in a satisfying way. the reason is because the argument seems motivated by a dissatisfaction with blue lock's pre-ubers match presentation of isagi and egojin. my belief about egojin is that he's the author-insert who acts as the fullest representation of blue lock's ideology, and as such occupies a position of thematic correctness within blue lock; isagi following egojin, then, is him fulfilling his purpose as the protagonist of blue lock, embracing his story's ideology and becoming its embodiment. this is a basic aspect of blue lock that i accept as 'correct', regardless of how i feel about it being so; from this standpoint, any instance of isagi deviating from his purpose will be unacceptable to me.

with that in mind, i think "isagi becoming a key and a gun" was where the nature of the story being told was transformed. before, in manshine (when isagi followed egojin and was 'correct'), isagi fulfilled his ideal form as a god-devil under great pressure, and bonded with yukki the sword— at that point, the story being told was that "isagi, under lock, becomes the heart of a sword." for the story to transform into one where "isagi, freed by a key, becomes a gun" was only possible when isagi betrayed who he was in the previous story.

since i accept the previous "lock and sword" story as what is 'correct' within blue lock, i feel the need to condemn this current story. but i understand that, for anyone dissatisfied with the previous story or with what blue lock advances as the 'correct' option, any change would be refreshing and/or a cause for hope. i can't argue with the frustrations of someone who (from my standpoint) rejects one of blue lock's core elements, as i, too, have only accepted this element not out of agreement but out of convenience.

overall i regret this response, as i realize i've basically just told you "yes it's bad because blue lock said it's bad which means it's bad." this exposes only my acceptance of egojin's correctness, and with it my acceptance of blue lock's message. it's important for me as a reader that blue lock remains contained within itself, so i can't reject the frustrations of anyone who dislikes it. that being said, i'll try to make another argument for why i condemn isagi's "gun and key" development.

to make something clear, isagi himself isn't the key— hiori is. and, isagi didn't organically become a gun on his own— hiori made him into one. instead of egojin feeding isagi ideas for how to become number 1, hiori was the one giving birth to isagi as their number 1 striker. isagi doesn't meaningfully challenge egojin, because all isagi did was replace egojin with hiori. 

so while the current isagi opposes egojin's teachings, he only developed to do so by latching onto a more convenient version of egojin who was capable of giving him immediate glory. the cause of isagi's opposition towards egojin was not a desire for rebellion, but forgetfulness. if anything, his "gun and key" development reveals how dependent he is on other people to give him direction and form his own ideas… as such, i'm incapable of seeing any silver lining to isagi's development

(as a final note, i understand the intent behind the isagi-egojin to kaiser-noa comparison, but while i do absolutely think creating his own ideal to challenge noa is core to kaiser's development i also think that this doesn't cut into noa's position as a 'correct' figure within blue lock, and that kaiser challenging noa leads to him 'following' noa in a true sense— for instance, kaiser's early test run of his ideal in ubers match leads to his ch.220 goal, which is eerily similar to noa's barcha goal. kaiser breaking from noa ultimately leads to him becoming more noa-like) (also i don't think of egojin as someone with an "ideal" in the same way as the master strikers but i haven't thought about it enough)

in any case i've done my best to communicate my beliefs about blue lock, but i understand if this answer fails to satisfy your objections. there were other approaches towards answering this that relied on an examination of the "key" and "gun" symbolism, but it would have looped around to being about the same central issue of whether the 'correctness' blue lock presents should be accepted by the reader. to take one final swing, though, i want to add that isagi is the chosen protagonist of blue lock, bound by blue lock's confines… from the beginning, true escape for him was a fated impossibility. i want isagi's current ideal of "freedom" to be thought of in this context of a deeper incontrovertible oppression, where isagi yoichi is only the protagonist because he exists in the prison called blue lock (manga). no amount of partnering with a key or shooting his enemies dead will change that isagi is trapped, but the only reason he doesn't realize this fact is because he's incapable of seeing what lies beyond his own, tragically limited perspective

[eurekq]

I get that people want an enemy in every situation but idk why it's so hard to just accept that people like jk rowling will see anything and find a way to make it about their vitriolic ideology. People cry after losing olympic challenges all the time. Carini in particular was crying because in losing she failed to keep a promise to her recently deceased father and also because she had been hit in the nose, which will make literally anyone on planet earth tear up (a totally legal hit afaik. just one that produces an unavoidable reaction). She admitted she had been wrong in not shaking khelifs hand and apologized. She said that if she were to see her again she would give her a hug. Like I don't know I feel like there are more productive targets to focus on. Yeah she acted shitty and unsportsmanlike in a single emotional moment; this was coopted and her words were mistranslated without her knowledge. Something can have bad consequences without it being a deliberately calculated evil mastermind move. In the meanwhile at the Olympics: did you know that the netherlands sent a man convicted of raping a 12 year old to compete? That's fucking insane to me but I guess it does make sense. They allowed Israel to compete after all

[burntcheerio]

people who hate on meena the elephant from the movie sing boil my blood

[misspoetree]

I've been thinking a lot about this.

About the transition from Pete's "I really went home" speech to Kim's shirt that simply says "human".

About the gut-wrenching feeling it gives me.

And I think I finally understand.

Because on one side, we have Pete, losing his humanity again and again, to the main family using him like a dog, to Vegas treating him like a pet. Who has to fight, fight, fight tooth and nail to reclaim it, to keep it. Bloody and beaten and ripped to shreds. For something that should be, no, that IS a birth right.

And on the other side, we have the Theerapanyakuls. Murdering and manipulating and exploiting, using people as they see fit, stripping them of their humanity while treating their own (sense of) humanity - their love, care, compassion - like, well, like a fashion item they can put on and take off anytime they like.

And if that contrast, transition, symbolism isn't brutality in its purest form then I really don't know what is.

[luv-again]

everything is so connected in this fic, not only just 'it makes sense chronologically' but also bc one thing led to another. each step brought them here. shadow and amy were meant to meet at cryptic castle one way or another. for a reason

[ticklet0d]

Eddy: Hold on, I’m having one of those things..a headache with pictures!

Double D: You mean an idea?

[courtneydeservesbetter]

Been rewatching random episodes of tdi/tda whenever there’s a lull cuz I’ve been catching up with ‘laptop work’ now that the power is back on and having Duncan be a cheater was the most hypocritical decision they could have made him do and while I disagree with it (OBVIOUSLY) it is a very interesting choice. And we as a fandom should definitely talk about that aspect of his character more!

Now I’m not necessarily rewatching the whole show- I might start to though cuz I’m getting that itch again, but I’m only watching an episode here and there so I could be forgetting something. But him cheating is such an interesting thing about his character, not only because Duncan was down bad for Courtney to a SEVERE degree, but also because he was SO PROUD of the fact that he was ‘straight with people’. Yes he was a bully and an asshole, but that was like one of his moral codes in the early seasons- he didnt lie to his friends about major shit. And yeah this is definitely a flawed moral code, and he definitely has lied to and tricked people throughout the series, but it’s almost like he genuinely thought that being a liar was the worst thing you could be. He says it multiple times in season one (when they’re all mad at Heather for manipulating Lindsay, when they voted Trent off for kissing Heather, ext) and he literally tells Leshawna in tda that he ‘never messes with liars’… And then just a season later he cheats on Courtney and lies about it till someone else tells her instead. He’s become what he thought was the worst thing a person could be, a liar. And yet the writers as far as I can remember, never address that!

[shantechni]

Trying and failing to make an analysis post about the oddest point my brain decided to latch onto when it's low on inspiration and an adequate level of comprehensive writing skills.

[theskyexists]

If only I understood anything about electronic circuits beyond electrons go

[miyanagateru]

huh so you have to remove the left eye to use the prototype sync machine huh.....

humm

[eurekq]

hi guys. Whoever's out there playing rogue trader. Who are we romancing

[petrichorium]

anyway the thing w luffy is he doesnt even rlly care here or there abt it until the first time and then hes obsessed to a truly unforeseeable degree. He's aware of the general gist of menstruation ofc and he follows chopper's directions for taking care of you but the thought of fucking doesnt rlly cross his mind simply bc he's not one to push anything when ur not feeling physically well & thats def how he approaches it. Until someone else mentions that sex is Possible and can help and suddenly hes very intrigued by the idea......... suddenly he cant Stop thinking about how you're all warm and cozy in bed with a heating pad and all the treats u cld want............

he's hooked the moment he realizes how sensitive you are, though. those breathy whines when his thumbs only just brush against your nipples, the way you squirm as he gropes at your sides and your stomach. you protest when he dips his head down, and if he weren't so determined in his exploration he might find it cute the way your hands scramble to grip his hair—not push away, he notes with something like smugness warming his core, but pull closer almost instinctively. your thighs, too, close around his ears, and he laughs lowly, watching your bare abdomen twitch as his breath fans over it. though you seem to catch yourself, move to pull away, he doesn't give you the chance; he's wrapping an arm around your thigh and holding you steadfast, even as you gasp out his name in a poor attempt at a reprimand that comes out as a moan. the folds of your pussy are swollen, hot to the touch as he reaches out to run his thumb over them, and he drinks in the way you clench involuntarily.

later, when he finally eases into you, it still manages to take him by surprise—slick and scorching like you've never been before, so receptive to every tiny movement, it's all he can do to pull your arm away from where you've flung it over your face and catch your hands in his own, pinning them to the mattress on either side of your head just to watch how your lashes flutter as he bottoms out.

it's a wonder, he thinks, how he went so long without this.

luffy is like. top 5 op men to have period sex with i dont need to justify it

[salemlunaa]

𓆉 ˚∘ WHY ARE YOU STILL DOING THIS TO YOURSELF?

what are you waiting for? just do it

This meditation is all you need, stop scrolling and do it now, you could've had your dream life, 3 hours ago, a day ago, or even 5 minutes ago. But you continue to doomscroll and then get upset at the time wasted, you're only harming yourself and it makes no sense to me how this information is priceless yet you want to scroll and scroll and scroll for what. There is no epiphany to be had, do you know why so many complain about our community being repetitive?

Because there is only one truth, there is no "click" that is needed for a godly being. You're looking for something that doesn't exist and you're wasting your days. Then you find a post that has made it click for you, for about 5 hours before you retreat back to the app with your tail behind your legs, to look for more "helpful posts" as if you don't already know everything.

Get out of here for real, you know how, it may be validating to like those memes about failing and like that posts about others who have had it hard, but you don't have to be like that anymore.

Why obsess over success stories when you can be one? What is scrolling actually doing for you? This community is nice but why do you want to stay more than you need to?

leave, you know how. yes, you do. Do not stay here longer than you need to, this community is the train station helping you get on that train (the void) to get to your desired destination (your dream life). We have given you the details to really get on that train, why are you still at the station? What is it doing for you? The people at the station are lovely people, but wouldn’t your dream destination be nicer? Days bleed into months and months to years, and next thing you know it’s 2028 and you’re still at the station. Why?

Your parents may make small talk with people on the plane to your vacation, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t going to get off that plane. The fellow passengers may be a vibe, but the vacation will obviously be better and that’s what they came on the plane for, to be transported to their destination not to stay on the plane and make friends. It’s nice to know that there are people going to the same destination as you, but not nicer than enjoying the vacation. After all they worked hard to be able to take the family away.

You’ve gone through alot, i hope you’re not throwing this away to scroll for another few days.

There is absolutely no eureka moment, you are the only person who can provide that not us bloggers. You need to get on that train. Now. You know how. Why are you stalling, procrastinating, maybe it’s the fear of failing or the “if it’s so quick and easy i’ll just do it later” mentality, don’t let these things keep you here longer than you need to be here.

And a tip for the road: act like this is life or death, do or die, there is no “what if” or “i’ll try” it’s happening

YOU KNOW IT ALL, UTILISE THAT KNOWLEDGE

[husbandjoel]

honey, where is my shield? | john walker

summary: you’re the fixer upper of weapons for the new avengers and want to do something for john walker’s upcoming birthday

pairing: john walker x fem!reader

word count: 2.7k

content: silly short fluff. walker has a bad attitude briefly, swearing, bed rot with self wallowing, kissing and illusions to sex if you squint

a/n: oh no 🧍‍♀️i’m forming into a 🧎‍♀️john walker apologist 🐀

        "Has anyone seen my shield?" John Walker strolled into the Watchtowers Living Quarters with his hands at his side, perplexed whilst the rest of the unorthodox team unwinded separately.

        He stopped at the foot of the sofa that Yelena Belova was sprawled across with a bowl of popcorn tucked under her armpit. Hands on his hips, she looked to him and he expressed impatience.

        "That tin taco?" A cheek full of mushed popcorn, Yelena snorted and fed her guinea pig a piece of red pepper she had prepared on the side, "No—I haven't seen your shield, Walker. You should take care of that thing. Or, throw it in the garbage disposal."

"Agreed. It's a heap of junk." Ava added along to Yelena.

"OK. Thank you for the unsolicited advice." Walker sneered and turned on his heel to find Bob to see if he had located his shield. As he turned, Yelena snapped her forefinger and thumb together in a Eureka! moment.

"Yes. I have seen it!" Yelena proclaimed and Walker ushered her to complete her thought, "Miss Fixer Upper has it."

Of course. Walker swore under his breath. Of course, you had taken it.

The Watchtowers esteemed colleague that wasn't apart of the New Avengers, but essential to the team. Their handywoman. You had been recruited by Valentina after a number of occasions where the team would come back from their missions with their items that were key in their protection, crumpled up like a piece of paper. That, or, Bucky Barnes arm needed reworked after temporarily disarmed by his opponent.

You were a kind little thing. Worked hard until your fingers had peeled many layers, sleepless nights sat with your miniature spotlight zoned into one of the New Avengers equipment that had to be fixed by that morning. Everybody sung your praises — hell — even John Walker liked you even when you had taken it upon yourself to remove his shield from his personal area and fix it.

The elevator dinged to the level you were on, John grimaced at the decor Valentina Allegra de Fontaine had curated for the Watchtower. It was an eyesore leading up to your workshop at the backend of the hall.

He didn't even knock as he burst through the door, making you jump the height of yourself in your seat, hands flying to your chest — your eyes magnified through the magnifying headset you were wearing.

"Oh—John!" You huffed as his eyes went to the very thing he had been ransacking his room for.

        It was propped up against a stand, the exterior faced you, the metal still tattered and warped but it seemed as if you had managed to pry it back into a circular shape again. There was something metaphorical about his second shield not fracturing at the seams when up against The Sentry, John Walker didn't want to deep dive into that therapy session. But, it made him upset. You fixing a problem that didn't need to be fixed.

        Two strides and he had snatched it off of the stand upon your worktop. You reached for it, your equipment clattering as you stood, "No, no, no! The paint hasn't dried yet!"

        He felt the wetness of the paint smudge beneath his fingers and to prove a point with his jaw tightened, John stared at you before his hands bent it back into the taco shape it had originally been prior to your non-consensual repairing. John was just adding flare to the dramatic stroke, wedging the shield back onto his forearm.

        "Ever heard of, if it's not broke, don't fix it?" He seethed without reason.

        You mulled over your answer, "I mean—It, it kind of was broken, John. I was doing you a favour. You know how many pliers I went through to bend it back into shape?"

        "Don't touch my stuff again."

        He slammed the door, shutting you off in your little cubbyhole and leaving you utterly gobsmacked at his behaviour. No. You wouldn't stand being spoken to like that. Having had your fair share of quips when attempting to help these supposed heroes and their reckless need to destroy their possessions, John had yet to be added to that list.

        There was an obvious knowledge of his bitter attitude, the rest of his team made shallow remarks at his expense, but you hadn't been one to dogpile onto that. He was sweet on you in particular moments, holding the door open for you, catching you at the elevator before your days work began — hair frazzled and eyes heavy — whilst he took the boxes of supplies from your arms and helped you to your workshop.

John had even invited you out for a friendly drink that you politely declined as you looked back at the mountain of work Valentina had left in her wake.

He was — no — had, been having an exceedingly hard time in regard to his personal life, not that you meddled too deeply but you wanted to do something nice for him. A surprise for his birthday which had been circled in red on your Bricky Gervais calendar that he had gifted you for Secret Santa after he thought you were an architect.

Even then, the calendar was in reference to construction workers.

Nevertheless, you pushed yourself out of your seat, magnifying glasses still in position which made it hard to identify how close things were, but you had worn them enough to figure it out. John had made it to the end of the corridor when you swung the door back open, your feet stormed across the marbled floor; hand drawn back before you launched your attack.

The pencil in your hand hit his forehead with the softest of smacks and paint smeared fingers rubbed the red mark that began to flourish.

The air grew thick with silence. The kind that had you suddenly regretting your childish actions against a serum enhanced vigilante.

“Don’t speak to me like that again.” You feigned confident pride, arms folded over your beating heart whilst John bent at the waist to pick your pencil up.

Dwarfed in his hand, John stepped into your space, his lips retained a humoured smirk from the absurdity of the situation. You counted your blessings that a man like John Walker had a softened spot in his heart for you. Pencil gifted back to you, he turned on his heel without another word; the elevator dinged at your level and he stepped in.

As the doors slid across to connect, John looked down at the paint smeared shield, his eyes narrowed at some chicken scratch that rounded with the curve of the shield:

You’ll never walk-er alone :)

His head rolled back and he sighed.

Now he felt like an asshole.

That continued through the night. It was a rarity, but John had a day-off from pummelling said enemies into the concrete with his fists. After his divorce, there wasn’t much of anything on his list to do when he had a gap in his crammed schedule thanks to Valentina. Fuck, he hated that woman after the Captain America comment.

He went grocery shopping for himself, a few extra items added to the basket to make a batch of Cactus Juice for himself and anyone else who took a fancy to it. Once returned, he packed his small section — compared to Alexei’s — of perishables in the fridge and returned to his room. John didn’t want to spend time with anyone in the group; and the feeling was mutual.

Fingers slotted between each other on the slow rise and fall of his stomach, John had laid for hours and stared up at the ceiling like he was doing time in solitary confinement. He eventually snapped out of it, after thinking about the downfall of his marriage. . . And his failure toward his son and Lemar Hoskins.

Eyes shifted to the corner where he kept his shield propped up as if it were a trophy. A tragic one, but still a prized possession. His eyesight had dwindled, even with the serum, but he could still see the bespoke white writing you had etched into his shield. Close to it were the smeared fingerprint evidence of John’s premature anger inflicted upon you. He had hoped you didn’t take it too personally, Walker was trying to work on that flaw, he really was.

John liked you. A lot, if he thought about it too hard. He had wondered for a long enough time if he only liked you because you weren’t launching vituperative insults in his direction. And, when you did insult him, John seemed to like it? He wasn’t sure. Things were complicated and he harboured guilt for looking at you in a certain light when he was finalising his divorce with Olivia.

Still. He had to make things right.

Knowing your ability to work overtime, John shifted off of his bed and pulled a white tee over his head to protect his modesty. Although — obnoxiously — he did think you may have thanked him for a shirtless moment. He worked hard for his lean physique.

Door opened, the blonde male almost body slammed you who had been on the other side carefully protecting the small flame lit from the pink candle atop of a sloppy red velvet cupcake you had made. Your alarm was voiced into a squeal, your shoulders quick to deflate once you had noticed that the flame had been blown out by the swift movements of John.

“Fuck sake, John.” You mumbled, “That was the last of the lighter fluid.”

John stared at you, “What are you doing?”

“It’s your birthday, duh?” Finger pointed to the clock that had struck twelve to signify the roll into the next day, which coincided with John’s birthday. You turned back to him and whispered, “Happy Birthday. You already spoilt your present from me.”

That was his birthday present?

“Your present to me, was to fix my own shield?” He sounded more ungrateful than he meant to. Actually, his tone was in disbelief that you were stood at his bedroom door in Hulk slippers and a large tee that read: Take a shower, I just did you dirty. You looked silly.

He really liked it. And you.

“Don’t make it sound like such a terrible idea. Bob said it was a good idea for someone that nobody knew what to get.” You waved your free hand in the air to defend your own honour and John just listened.

From the way your eyes shone from the warm glow from the lamp on his bedside table, the slope of your nose and down to your lips that were moving at a million miles per hour as you talked the ear off of him about his tendency to shoot first and ask questions later, resulting in him spoiling his own birthday gift; physically and figuratively.

Man, he was down bad.

He nodded along to your vexed words, taking the hit as he stepped closer to you, his hand unmistakably smoothed over the small of your back, head dipped as he reigned you in. His apology formed in the action of pressing his lips against yours — words muffled and soon snuffed out.

So, you hadn’t expected that type of response. Eyes wide as your lips warmed against John’s, your breasts pressed into him as he practically inhaled you in the corridor. Sure, there was an inkling of a crush on the Big Bad Wolf of the New Avengers. You hadn’t really tapped into it much aside from small acts of service that John didn’t seem to reciprocate. It was your love language after all, maybe it didn’t stretch to his.

To add to that, you didn’t want to be branded the other woman so to speak. It was a grey area when it came to a person in the finalisations of a divorce, and with this new group of heroes heavily saturating every front page of New York newspapers, you couldn’t imagine the guttural punch it would cause for his ex-wife to see him prancing around with another woman. If he liked you, that was.

But, you weren’t in the public eye. You were stood in a dark corridor, wrapped up in the troubled John Walker. And, you took your chances.

His hand came to yours, where you were tightly grasping the cupcake made especially for him. John’s fingertips plucked it from you and tossed it to the side which earned a pull back from you and he chased your lips.

“I worked really hard on that.” You warned at the discarded cupcake that spread it’s cake matter across the flooring.

John watched you, “It made a thud when it hit the floor. It would’ve broken my teeth.”

“I know. It was intentional after your little outburst in my Workshop, Walker.” You heard the grumble in his chest before he returned his reaction in the form of more kisses.

Hands smoothed to the meat of your thighs, John lifted you up with ease and turned to lead you both into the bedroom with a kick of his heel to shut his door. The cupcake long forgotten as he showed you how much he appreciated your efforts on fixing his shield that had dwindled in the shadow of his own ugly behaviour.

bonus:

        "Honey—?" You lifted your head to the call from your fiancé. Feet up on your desk, you had been admiring the way the new jewel on your ring finger caught the sunset that dipped below the horizon. John stumbled from the bedroom, hair in all directions from yanking his original attire off and back into his U.S. Agent gear.

        Oh. Absolutely not.

        "Have you seen my shield?" He asked through panted breaths.

        You blinked at him innocently, the corners of your mouth pulled downward into a frown as you shook your head.

        "Why? Do you need it?"

        He gawped at you. Look at him! Of course he needed it! "What—Yes, baby. I need my shield, please. Have you seen it? The guys are waiting on me" John begged before he dipped back into the bedroom, the scene in disarray as he clawed into every corner to try locate it.

        You slowly stood from your chair and rounded the table, your sweet time was taken to meet him in the bedroom. Shoulder rested against the doorframe, you folded your arms as you watched your fiancé dissolve into a flared panic with profanities leaving his mouth.

        The thing was, it was your birthday. And, John Walker had gotten on his knees in front of you and promised that the third birthday spent in a relationship with you — now newly engaged — would not be spent alone whilst he sped off to gallivant with his Thunderbolts, no, New Avengers esteemed co-workers. 

        As observant as ever, you had overheard Bucky Barnes speak about a minor incident they would have to step into the day prior, and, well, you took that opportunity to misplace John Walker's slightly out of shape shield, the old writing of yours faded but still present on the curve.

        John turned to you, frantic, "Honey, we are talking about the greater good here." His muscular back turned on you.

        "Greater good?" He halted his movements, his posture straightening when he took a deep inhale — eyes closed as he connected the dots. You scoffed, "I am your fiancé, I am the greatest good you are ever gonna get."

        Blue eyes met yours. Stern and telling that he was cemented in his decision. You stood your ground, expression stoic, making sure to have your ring finger exposed enough to remind John Walker who he was devoted to.

It lasted all of forty seconds at most. Then you deflated like a balloon, arms to your side and surrendering to his face.

“Fine. It’s where you never look.” You admitted. You watched as the cogs turned in John’s head before he sprinted down your shared hallway and into the laundry basket brimmed with fresh clothes that needed to be folded; the idea of your birthday dinner a distant memory.

He came back, folded shield in hand and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips that followed with an ��I love you’. Or, more along the lines of: I love you, I might die at the hands of my enemies or my co-workers. The lines are blurred on that, but I love you. And, then, you blinked and he had gone whilst the dust settled amidst the sudden chaos.

You sighed and retreated to your bedroom.

John made sure to bring you home a red velvet cupcake and a pink candle to match.