#someone should write a fic where wilson goes...well yeah

[oldmanffucker]

[fortysevenswrites]

📓📔📒📕📗📘📙📚📖!!!!!!!!!

Okay. 9 books, 9 fics. You're welcome.

1. Kastle/The West Wing Crossover Every time I watch TWW, I think about Karen and Donna Moss being friends, and once I thought of a fic where during the early seasons of TWW, the President and staff go to New York and Karen is moderating one of the series of town halls they're there for (specifically one where Josh Lyman is speaking). And of course that one, because reasons I had not yet come up with, gets attacked by The Hand, and Karen, Donna and Josh (who gets injured, because Josh ALWAYS gets injured) get rescued by Frank and it basically ends with the President demanding to meet Frank to thank him for saving Josh's life and everyone is like, "Mr. President do you not understand that Frank Castle is technically a MURDERER and the Secret Service will n e v e r let you in the same room with him and it's bad enough that you're currently on the same ISLAND?" So, yeah.

Here's something I wrote for it:

“Josh, did you hear?”

“I have impeccable hearing, Donna,” Josh says without looking up from the memo in his hand. “What is it that I am supposed to have heard?”

“Carol told me that she heard from Lindsay in credentialing that Karen Page has been assigned to cover the President’s town halls in New York for the New York Bulletin!”

He waits for her to keep going, but she doesn’t so, he looks up and sees her waiting expectantly, “And?”

“Karen Page? What It Means To Be A Hero Karen Page. She’s connected to half the vigilante-superheroes in Lower Manhattan. She was held hostage by ninjas. She interviewed Tony Stark about the Sokovia Accords. Last year, The Punisher himself may or may not have held her hostage after saving her from that terrorist Lewis Wilson.”

“And?”

“And, would it be inappropriate, as a member of the White House Staff, to ask her for her autograph?”

Kastle: The Big Indulgence

This is one of the first long fics I came up with for Kastle (and come hell or high water I WILL write it one day). Basically, it puts the NMCU actually IN the MCU. Post TPS1, Sarah tracks Karen down and they become friends, and at the same time, Frank becomes friends with Bucky Barnes (yes Emily, I know he's not your fav) by way of Curtis' group (Curt, of course, regrets ever letting them interact ever). Karen gets nominated for an award for her journalism work by the Maria Stark Foundation, where she meets Pepper, Natasha, and Darcy, and befriends them as well. Everything comes to a head and Karen and Frank reunite after the discovery that Sarah Lieberman is related to one of Bucky's surviving family members (the Liebermans are Jewish, Bucky's family is Jewish, it works!). Then, things related to Billy and Hydra happen, there's an incident where a few people disappear into an alternate universe for...an... amount of time, the Avengers meet the X-Men to help get them back, and Frank may or may not be a little psychic. Someone ends up coming from that alternate universe who doesn't belong here, but it's okay because she's [redacted] and also Leo's [redacted].

Leo-Centric, Kastle

Leo gets an internship as Darcy Lewis' assistant (well, technically she's working for Jane Foster, but it's basically working for Darcy), where she meets Karen, matchmakes her with Frank, and also gets a girlfriend. I think the summary says it best:

Summer 2021.

In which Leo Lieberman gets the internship of a lifetime—working for Jane!Freaking!Foster’s soon-to-be former personal assistant, Darcy Lewis—both comes out of the closet AND gets the girl, and helps her long-lost murder-uncle finally reconcile with the ace reporter of his dreams.

If Frank was actually bulletproof, it would totally be just like Superman and Lois Lane.

5 Times Seth Tells Kate He Loves Her

A five-times fic where Seth is just ass over tea kettle in love with Kate, and makes sure she knows it and doesn't care what other people (read: Richie and Scott) think about it. The first one takes place the night they get back from Matanzas, and I just love the little bit I've written so far. I know 2 that I'm going to write so far, so...3 to go.

Kate Meets Vanessa Post S3

So I started writing this around Valentine's Day this year, and I might keep it as a Valentine's Day fic no matter what, but basically, in a grand universal coincidence, Vanessa strolls into Jed's just because she's stopping for lunch on her way to...somewhere. She meets Kate, who is covering the bar for Kalinda and Greer (a culebra OC that I will one day actually formally introduce in my fics, I promise), who are downstairs "checking on inventory" read: screwing in a maintenance closet because it's Valentine's Day, and then Seth comes out and there's a little, very awkward reunion, and basically Vanessa is the MOST amused, Seth is the MOST uncomfortable and Kate's just like...okay? And? Also, Seth is still bitter about Vanessa taking the tire iron to his car back in early S1.

The SK/Detroit 187 Fusion

Seth is a detective in Houston PD, who comes into the office one day to discover they...hired an intern? Said intern is Kate Fuller, a grad student at the University of Houston, who is working on her master's thesis by studying something related to crime (duh). Seth thinks she's a Disney princess in human form and they're very antagonistic with one another, but also he likes her way more than he thinks he should (but feels a LOT better about it when he finds out she's 23, not like...barely legal to drink or anything. Angst happens when a gang (Malvado's, but Carlos' branch of it) attacks Kate's family and kills her parents, and Seth takes her to Eddie and Richie for protection while he and his partner, Ximena, and the rest of the department solve the case and put Carlos' crew away.

SK Post 2x02 AU

After Kate and Seth part ways in 2x02, Kate goes back to Bethel, but Scott isn't there (so Jessica lives). She ends up in Houston for two years, working at a gym and keeping her to the ground looking for word about her brother, until one night, she's attacked by a bunch of Culebras, and is saved by Seth, Richie, and Kisa. She finds out that Carlos and Malvado are after her because she's the key to the way to the Blood Well, and Carlos and Malvado's henchwoman, the one and only Sonja, draws them all back to Bethel by putting Jessica in danger, and...it's all going to come to a head in some way that involves them saving Jessica from Sonja and killing Malvado and stopping the events of S3 from ever having to happen.

SK Season 1 AU

I don't know if i'm ever going to go anywhere with this, but I had this thought of...what is Carlos as Kyle wasn't a dick to Kate, and he took her to Mexico instead of Kate going back with Jacob and Scott. She ends up at the Twister before Seth and Richie do, and spends time with Kisa before she goes out to perform, and somehow it ends up with Kate going through the labyrinth with the brothers? I don't know. Something like that.

The FDTD/The Punisher Crossover That Starts Off In New York

So this is one of 2 crossovers I have for SK-meets-Kastle, but I love it. This is post 2x02, and Kate ends up in New York after not being able to find Scott back in Bethel. She ends up going to work as NM&P's assistant, and befriends Karen. To get to know one another better, Karen takes Kate to Josie's, where Kate discovers that Josie is a culebra, and Josie promises to keep Kate's secret. One day, this...guy shows up at the office, asking to talk to Karen, and Karen kicks Kate out of the office while they talk, and when she comes back, the guy is gone and Karen doesn't want to talk about it. (It's Frank, of course it's Frank). Also featuring one day where Frank is on the roof, Matt gets wind of it and goes up there to confront him about seeing Karen again and comes back with a black eye, and Kate is V confused whereas Karen is 10000000% pissed off at them both. Not long after, Kate and Karen are out one night, and they're attacked by a bunch of culebras. Frank helps intervene while Kate really is the one to save the day...and then she has to explain culebras to them. Of course, Karen saw aliens fall out of a portal above Stark Tower, so...snake vampires? Whatever. Kate calls Freddie to figure out why she was attacked and it turns out Carlos and Malvado are after her (and, later found out Karen too). Kate, Karen and Frank end up in Texas and things all come to a head at the blood well, as it does, and while Carlos shoots Kate in front of Seth, Richie, and Scott (which, BAD IDEA), Kate falls into the blood well, and when she's pulled out, she's healed. But...she also has something inside her that wants to destroy the world, and everyone has to race against time to figure out how to get Amaru out of Kate before she takes over completely and destroys them all. They figure out a way, but it has an...interesting side effect for Kate and Seth. Also, this is the one where Maggie takes one look at Freddie and Ximena and shrugs and says, "You know what? Porque no los dos?"

So yeah, there you go!

(Also, I thought about also including the Amaru isn't evil, she's just cranky and wants to go home, S3 AU, but we just talked about it yesterday, so I figured it doesn't count hahaaha.)

send me a book emoji of any kind and i will tell you about a fic idea i have

[neighborhood-merc]

Guys !!! I am back! First of all, I hope all of y’all (your friends, family, pets! too) are doing alright. Keep safe! Wash your hands! Don’t go out if not necessary! Kisses! Kisses! Kisses! Alright, alright, let’s do this shall we? Same shit applies. [Here is Part 1 & 2 btw ] 

The themes of the stories on this list varies, I’m either into something heart-warming, fluffy, domestic that sort of stuff or into some really really heavy and dark messed up ones. (READ THE TAGS) It always depends on the mood am I right? *wink wink*

It’s always gonna be smutty though lol

As long as it’s tastefully written, whatever kinky shit, I can be into it, I don’t judge the writer (they give us free content y’all, who are we to judge??) With that being said if I add something straight up messed up here now/or in the future, don’t come for meh, just mind the tags of the fic, for your own discretion if anything.

this list should be Wade Wilson/Peter Parker - Spiderman/Deadpool pairing only. I kinda like my babies greedy/possessive for/of each other.

READ THE TAGS.

I don’t care who tops or bottoms.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Summaries are taken directly from the fanfic’s summary.

Read the tags first!

Deluge (this is such a good boi, this fic is a good boy!) Weapon X chose Wade Wilson because of several factors in his life. He was a preternatural. He had extraordinary abilities that could be expanded upon. The cancer just made him desperate enough to agree to whatever they wanted to do with him.They didn't just turn him immortal. They destroyed his very soul, tearing him apart and shaping him into something new and never seen before. They took everything he had been and left him with ashes and bones. Soulless.He killed his creators and went on with his life.Then he met Spider-Man.Things started to change.Something inside him, something that had come out of the ashes and was a nightmarish, terrible thing, sat up and took notice. An intense, single-minded notice.

The Perks of Working Third Shift An AU in which Wade is wandering the globe and ends up in NYC where he meets the absolute most perfect man he's ever seen who's working third shift at a quick mart. Even better, the man seems happy to flirt back. Wade makes it his mission to score a date.Peter stopped dating a long time ago, but Wade's flirtations, energetic attitude, and hilarious comments make it hard for Peter not to enjoy the attention. But will all of that be ruined if Wade finds out his secret?

Better Like This  (Listen,  NotEvenCloseToStraight’s Spideypool works are amazing, read all of em, honestly just check out ALL the works of the writers on my list because if I list everything, this is gonna be a long ass list) No one knows Spider-Man is an Omega. Not the newspapers, not the NYPD, and certainly not the overly loud, definitely obnoxious, sort-of-a-good-guy, completely Alpha, Deadpool. And Peter would like it to stay that way. But when he drops into an unexpected heat, Deadpool is the only person he can call to help, and how quickly the Alpha switches from shouting dirty innuendos to whispering comforting things really throws Peter for a loop. After sharing a heat, Peter is convinced that Wade is his Alpha, and is ready to take him as his mate, but Wade rejects him. Wade knows that a man like him wouldn’t make anyone a good mate, much less a perfect, pretty Omega like Peter. So he says no, pushes the Omega away and unable to even work together anymore, they go their separate ways. Peter is devastated, heartbroken, seeking comfort in the arms of another Alpha, and all Wade can do is watch from a distance, and keep telling himself that he is doing the right thing, sparing Peter a life of disappointment and pain. Peter deserves better than him as a Mate, and one day Peter will understand. It’s Better This Way. But is it really?(Peter is Andrew Garfield)

Use Me Peter wants to help Wade. Wants to make him feel beautiful, wants to make him feel wanted... Wants to put out the fire in his own gut whenever he sees the merc for what he really is. He does.

Double Mint Gum Wade decides that only one of his fine-ass self just isn't enough 

Spider Spidey (SPIDERY SPIDEY!)

Bleed the Water Red Peter and Deadpool are held captive by a super-villain that has an inclination for torture. After she boasts her untarnished record at never having hurt a child or teenager, Peter is forced to break the truth to both her and Deadpool.“Did you know I have a perfect record?” The villain collects a rusted pocket knife, tracing it up Peter’s arm, over his shoulders, down to his collarbone, as though considering where to cut. Peter focuses on controlling his breathing, fear twisting awfully in his belly. “You may look down on me, Mr. Spider-Man, but for all the righteous suffering I inflict, I’ve never hurt a child. Not once.”“Y'know, I don’t think you do,” Peter blurts. At his words, Deadpool's stare intensifies. “Have a perfect, non-child harming record, that is.”

Don’t Keep Me Waiting Peter's 90% sure Wade likes him. Or at least he was sure. When you almost jerk off in front of the friend you're definitely not pathetically pining for and they never mention it again, it makes you doubt yourself. Peter knows he should probably just ask what the fuck is going on, but where's the angsty fun in that?

Sometimes When We Touch Peter answers a Craigslist ad for someone who is willing to pay for some unspecified physical contact/sex because he's just that broke. He's surprised to find out Wade Wilson is the one who posted the ad, but thinks he can still manage just fine even when the man explains he'd like him to wear a special costume for the occasion. Of course things become a little more complicated when Wade reveals the outfit he's chosen: a shockingly accurate Spider-Man suit

Sunflower 26 and standing at the head of Parker Industries, Peter feels young in every way. He doesn't know himself, he lacks a lot of experience, and he's struggling to get a grip on what he thinks of the merc with the mouth, an absolute force who has starting pushing his desires in a direction that terrifies him.He desperately tries to come to terms with sexuality, even when it means dragging Wade flat on his face.Takes place after the dance scene in Spider-man/Deadpool, with important plot details omitted. Follows these two through extreme character growth.

Two Thirds of a Whole (I honestly felt weird about this one, but eh, maybe someone who’s into it would appreciate it) Peter Parker and Wade Wilson, finding Vanessa dead and having never met, assume the second body is their other soulmate. When they meet in a market ten years later, they both have a chance they never thought they would get again-- a chance at love.But can they find a way to be happy as two thirds of a whole?

Holding Back The thing about not being able to die is that it makes everything so dreadfully boring. Seriously, immortality's a bitch. So, you gotta keep things interesting. How else are you supposed to get through the day without going insane? Well, more insane.Wade wants to be a hero, but fighting bad guys isn't enough to keep things interesting. Wooing Spider-Man might help, though. And exploring his kinks definitely will. Of course, he never thought anything would come of either of these things. Boy, was he wrong!

Missed You  (Imagine me covering me shyly covering my face for this ehehe) “Wade,” Peter whines, pulling off Wade’s mask and catching his lips in a deep kiss. All he can smell is leather and sweat and gunpowder, and he’s already embarrassingly hard. Wade comes home from a mission. Peter missed him. A lot.

Big Peter can't stop looking at and thinking about Wade's great big arms and shoulders and hands and back. He's fine. (He's not fine.) 

 Slip of the Tongue Sometimes Peter can forget how big Wade is, how much presence he has. Right now is not the time. His heart rabbits in his chest as he swallows, looking up. There’s always something there when Wade’s looking at him, something predatory, that makes Peter nervous and wanting, shivering hot all over.

Wade The Cat  “Aw don’t be afraid little buddy, it’s okay, he’s gone”Wade almost cringes at how someone is talking to him, what the hell?! He’s not a defenseless animal. Wait. No, yeah, he is.Wade looks a little alarmed, stepping back as the man crouches next to him, smiling sympathetically “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you. You okay?”Wade holds his breath, gives an once over at the guy, beautiful chestnut eyes, the adorable smile, the red face probably resulting from the cold and the brown humid hair stuck to his forehead as he holds his umbrella for both of them and yep, ladies and gentlemen if he wasn’t before, Wade is right now a defenseless animal because “Meow” Wade says wiggling what should be eyebrows “Honey, I’d let you take care of me all night long” Wade purrs.

Gonzo Journalist (It belongs to a series “We fell in love in October) A young photographer working for The Daily Bugle hears about the tragic fate of an ex-soldier and decides to write an article about his cause to help him out. Maybe more than in one way.

The Man in the Mask When Wade is unceremoniously dropped off into the custody of one Dr. Parker, he assumes the man has only the worst possible intentions for one of the world's last remaining mutants. But it turns out, the universe still holds plenty of surprises for them both.

You Wear My Name Over Your Heart Like It’s Invisible "Why don’t you ever let me see it? If you have the name already, why can’t you tell me whose it is? I thought we were best friends."Everyone gets their Name when they turn twenty-one. It isn’t their own name either. It’s the name of their Soulmate. When Wade Wilson wakes on his twenty-first birthday, he looks down at his chest and sees Peter Benjamin Parker. He stares for a moment then shrugs, gets dressed, and doesn’t think about it for another six weeks.

Parachute, Please Peter unexpectedly goes into heat after an Avengers mission, which could have been fine, but the ride back is 2 hours and he's stuck on a plane with his closest friends and family.At least there's one person he can call at times like these for relief. And in comes Wade.

Peter Parker’s Home for the Wayward Villain A really long redemption story.

And Words Are Futile Devices Peter doesn’t think he’s lonely. He’s too busy to be lonely. He’s twenty-two, working on his PhD and holding down a shitty job at the Daily Bugle, not to mention his nightly extra-curricular activities. He’s too busy for friends, and he’s certainly too busy for romantic interests. And yet, shockingly, apparently everyone in his life thinks he needs to stop being an anti-social recluse and get laid.So Peter enters the wide, wonderful world of online dating. He doesn’t expect to find his soul mate, or even a friend, and he’s definitely not looking for hook ups. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for, really, until one Wade W. Wilson catches his eye and captures his heart with risqué dog pics and a concerning obsession with cannibalistic serial killers.This is a love story. A sweet, inevitable journey towards each other. There is humor, and melancholy, and a touch of both gravitas and levity to the weeks that trickle by. But really it’s just an account of the slow, magnetic movement of Peter towards Wade, and Wade towards Peter.

Strays Wade finds Spider-Man unconscious on a roof top. Score!Or: Spider-Man has lost his memories, some of his vocabulary, and all of his social conditioning. Wade is losing his mind.

The Inverse Deadpool doesn't have to try very hard to hide his second gender anymore because ever since Weapon X, no one in their right mind would ever believe that Wade Wilson was an omega. It doesn't matter anyway, because Wade knows no Alpha would keep a male omega. No alpha WANTS one, much less one that's as scarred and unstable as he is. Apparently, Spiderman was born to break every rule Wade has ever known.

The Body Remembers When the Mind Forgets When people need a mate in their life, it isn't usually because they've forgotten they already have one. 

Half Your Age (Plus Seven) In which Deadpool has oddly specific and frustrating morals, Spider-Man has excellent friends, his lab partner has an opening for a bassist, Johnny Storm has the warmest feet, and everyone has had enough of hearing Peter talk about Wade Wilson (except Aunt May: she’s always glad to hear he’s back in town).

[chantelle-x0x]

Cabin Kisses - Steve Rogers x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: I honestly don’t know how good this is. I tried really hard to make this as fluffy as possible but I also thought I’d add some fluffy-angst at the start just to get it going, but I really hope you enjoy this fic and it wasn’t a complete waste of reading time. But I don’t really know how good this one is given I am really busy with real life and I’m trying so hard to get my writing out still so, enjoy! If you can. Most importantly though, this is my entry for @barnesrogersvstheworld who held a kiss challenge and let me have the prompt ‘At a cabin in the mountains’. Thank you so much for letting me be part of this!

Permanent tag list: @glorious-fandoms, @rousetta, @fuckyourgondola

Steve Rogers tag list: @alepowell @kaitlynw011 @get-loki @i-just-wanna-live-gc Disclaimer: **All characters besides Reader, belongs to Marvel (MCU)**

Word count: 1,543

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader, Platonic!Peter Parker x Reader

MCU Characters: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Peter Parker,  Natasha Romanoff (mentioned), Bucky Barnes (mentioned), Clint Barton (mentioned), Sam Wilson (mentioned

Rating: General (15+ maybe?)

Warnings: A fluffy panic attack (if that’s a thing if not then), Stevie being a giant teddy bear and helping you through a panic attack at 2AM. Also, is HYDRA a warning? Because it’s mentioned. And lastly, implied stuff but nothing happens at all! Clean content xx 

Summery: You have a really bad nightmare and it effects you worse than normal, so Steve has new plans for you instead of going on a mission.

After a mission failed, you went back to the compound with your teammates. Tony and Steve were already talking about going back with more than four people and training even more so you’re all prepared for the worst. You had a gash in your arm but you tied it up with some cloth to prevent bleeding too much. Steve kept checking on you but you promised you were feeling okay and that you’d be alright. As you got to the compound, you went to the med-bay and got stitched up before thanking the nurse and exiting, heading to your room. After changing into your pyjamas, you take your laptop and sit on your bed putting on ‘To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before’. You’re about 20 minutes into the movie when there’s a knock on your door.

‘C’mon in.’ You say warmly, sitting up properly. Steve entered your room, closing the door gently behind him. He moved over on your bed smiling at him as he takes place next to you.

‘How are you feeling?’ He asks as you close up your laptop. You shrug in response and sigh.

‘The pain meds are wearing off now so I’m starting to feel the pain, but other than that, I’m doing just fine.’ Your voice was quiet and you looked really tired. Steve cuddled up closer to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. Before long, you slumped against him and fell asleep. He places a kiss to your forehead then picks you up bridal style and places you into your bed and covers you up. You sigh but open your eyes a little and pull on his arm gently, whispering, ‘Stay?’ He nods and goes to the other side of the bed pulling the covers over himself.

You and Steve had been dating for a couple of years, you just hadn’t gotten a room together. Sometimes you needed your own space for a little while and Steve understood that, so you both agreed you wouldn’t move in together; anywhere. Not for now anyway. More than space though, you had major trust issues from past relationships, Steve would never hurt you and you knew that, but it wasn’t easy to just pick up and leave with someone especially when you have an ongoing doubt that you might do or say something that’ll cause a problem.

At about 2 AM, Steve wakes up. He feels your non-stop movements, like your feet kicking air and your hands gripping and letting go of the sheets. Your sleeping grunts, as well as your sweating and light shaking. He whispers your name, gently shaking you awake. You wake up and it takes you a moment to realise where you are.

Every time you, Steve or someone else you cared about dearly got hurt during a mission, you'd have either a nightmare where they’d get really injured and end up dying, tearing your heart apart or, you’d die and you’d have to watch the people around you slowly start to forget you and it would get to a point where they didn’t care about or remember you. When you wake up, you cry and basically have a panic attack. And that’s exactly what happened.

Once you adjust to where you are, your eyes well up in tears and you start to cry really hard. Your breath comes short but not for a second were you alone. Steve’s warm arms wrapped around you and he whispered sweet things to help calm you down. He continuously kissed your forehead and rocked you back and forth in his arms. After calming down you realised how bad everything really was today.

‘Everything is okay doll.’ Steve whispered as he wiped your tears away. You sniffled before holding on tightly to your boyfriend. When morning came you found that you were alone in your bed. You knew Steve had probably gone for his morning run so you went down to get some food. Tony called you into a meeting and you found everyone there.

‘The mission from yesterday failed as we all know, thankfully most of us didn’t have anything terrible happen. We need to go in again tonight. Cap, you’ll be paired with Y/N. Help her train and then when we get there, go undercover as HYDRA interns. Barton and Romanoff you guys are together, Barnes and Wilson, you guys pair together and don’t mess this up.’ Tony kept giving out what everyone needed to do, but your head was elsewhere. The meeting ended and you chose to quickly slip into your room, leaving Steve with Tony.

Steve met you near the Quinjet but before you got on, he guided you wordlessly to a small plane. ‘What are we doing Steve? I thought we had to go with them, then we’d split up.’ Steve opened the door letting you in first.

‘That was the plan, but now we have to leave separately.’ He said and you nodded. You two fell into a comfortable silence, but after a while, you started heading towards a runway in a mountain.

‘Steve, where are you going?’ You ask.

‘We’re not doing the mission.’ He informed.

‘Why not!? I’m completely fine!’ You were frustrated. It’s happened before, sure not this badly, but it’s happened.

‘You’re not. It hasn’t happened like it did last night and I don’t want you to get hurt.’ You decided you’d give him the silent treatment for a while. He waited to tell you and you were actually looking forward to being a HYDRA intern for a couple of days. You entered the cabin without a word which made Steve chuckle.

About an hour passed when Steve gave you a cup hot chocolate and wrapped a warm blanket around you. You smiled at him and thanked him. ‘She speaks!’ He said euphorically. You laughed and rested your head on his chest since he took place next to you.

‘I love you Steve. Thank you for taking me away. I guess I never knew how stressed I could actually be.’ Steve smiled and placed two fingers under your chin before pressing his lips to yours. You melted into him almost automatically. You placed your cup down on the floor before wrapping your arms around Steve’s neck. His tongue slid along your bottom lip asking for entrance which you happily gave him. He laid you on the couch. You smiled into the kiss and before pulling away, you pulled on Steve’s bottom lip. You both took a moment to breathe, his eyes no longer bright blue like before. You went to kiss him again when you heard a knock on the door. You both eyed each other, but there was another knock.

‘Stay here.’ Steve said sternly, picking up his shield and heading to the door. You didn’t follow his instructions and quietly followed him taking the gun from the table near the couch. Another knock echoed through the room. Steve opened the door ready to attack when a young Peter Parker was standing outside.

‘Woah. Sorry Captain. I-I uh, I went to help Mr Stark but he sent me here because he said it’s too dangerous. Hi Y/N!’ He said waving to you. You smiled and went to the door and hugged your young friend. Steve shut the door after Peter and you got him a cup of hot chocolate.

‘You scared me Peter!’ You exclaimed. He rubbed the back of his neck and apologised.

‘You’re here now kid so you should be safe. We’ll head back in a few days. You can find your room right? With your spidey-sense.’ Steve tried to get the kid out off the room.

‘That’s not how it works but yeah. Thanks for letting me stay here Captain.’ Peter said smiling.

‘I’ve told you before Peter, call me Steve.’ Steve said with a smile, while trying to usher Peter away.

‘Right. Well thanks guys!’ Peter said before leaving to find an empty room.

‘You don’t like to listen to orders when you’re off duty, do you?’ Steve asked, taking you by surprise. You then realised what he meant.

‘Long answer, if something happened to you, I wouldn’t have been safe and if you needed backup, I’d be there to help.’ Steve cocked an eyebrow and had an amused look.

‘And short answer?’ He asked.

You step closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, smiling up at him whispering, ’No.’ A slight shake to your head. ‘No, I don’t like orders when I’m off duty, but you should already know that, captain.’ Steve smirked at your words and a slight blush dusted his cheeks. Before anything could progress however, Peter came back into the room with a smile on his face.

‘What’re we watching?’ He asked, you laughed and pulled away from Steve’s embrace.

‘Soon.’ You whispered to Steve, he instantly understood what you meant and smiled. ‘Your choice Peter.’ You smiled at the teenager before sitting next to him on the couch.

You had to admit, although you didn’t want to be away from the “fun” mission, you were quite enjoying the time with Steve and Peter. You were all safe and away from danger. That’s what you always wanted for Steve.

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Constructive criticism and general feedback would be awesome as well! Thanks for reading x

Masterlist

[pagesofivy]

Stupid Shopping

Pairing: Sam Wilson x plus size!reader

Warnings: self doubt, stupid clothes being too small, some angst with your fluff.

Beta: @quilliamfears

W.c. 1381

A/N: This is for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan ‘s Full Figured Fantasy writing challenge. My prompt was “Life is way too short to spend another day at war with yourself.” This challenge is super close to my heart and I had three different ideas for where I wanted to take the prompt. I still might do those later but that’s a maybe, when I’m feeling inspired. This actually started as a different fic focused on Sam’s wings and having a wing!kink but the prompt took me elsewhere and I’m really happy with it. I dunno who to tag, sorry! Forevers and marvel tags will be on the reblog.

The first thing that caught your attention about Sam Wilson was his wings. He was out practicing as you rolled up to the Avengers compound in your car, and you’d been fascinated by the man’s movements. Too soon, he’d landed on a roof and out of your sight, and you continued on in your travels, going through the security and into the compound to meet with Steve and Tony about a spot on the tech side of the team.

They’d accepted you, invited you to stay on the compound too, and you’d accepted, quickly falling into the little family they’d created. Sam continuously fascinated you, and you’d made a couple more pairs of wings similar to his to tinker with.

Sam sits with you when you work, giving his thoughts and opinions on your designs and tweaks, asking for certain things, praising you for your ideas. He watches as you work on other tech too, fascinated, and you talk to him as you work, explaining some of the more simple things. Once he got the simple stuff, you start explaining the more complicated things, and eventually your conversation moves to more friendly topics.

It’s always hot in your lab, so when you work, you wear a tank top and shorts, though you’ll wear more when you’re doing something dangerous. When Sam hangs out, at first, you’re self-conscious about what you wear, knowing that it shows off your chubby thighs, arms, and sometimes stomach, but Sam never seems to notice, so eventually it goes to the back of your mind and you get lost in the tech.  

You don’t let him know about your insecurities, when you two become friends. You also don’t tell him that you’re falling in love with him, because there’s no way he could feel the same. Not with Nat and Wanda and all the other thin, gorgeous, badass women that inhabit the compound. Not when you’re curvy, thick, chubby, whatever you call it. You’re bigger than average, plus size by all means. ‘Full-figured’ your mom would say, a soft smile on her face. But you shake that thought out of your mind as an announcement comes over the annoying speakers Tony installed throughout the bunker.  “There’s going to be a party tonight, fancy dress, attendance required. That means you, (Y/N). Starts at 7 p.m.” Scowling at the speaker as Tony’s voice cuts off, you let out a frustrated huff and throw down your tools. Sam frowns and reaches out for you, taking your hand in his and pulling you to face him.

“What’s the matter, (Y/N)? It’s just a stupid party. I’m not sure why Stark called you out like that, but if you don’t have anything to wear, we can play hooky and go shopping for something. I need a suit anyway.” Sam offers, smiling up at you encouragingly, and you hesitate a moment before nodding.

“Yeah, I need to go shopping for something. He only called me out because he knows I tend to avoid his parties. I always feel kinda out of place around everyone.” You admit, pulling away and cleaning up your workbench a bit so that you can play off your admission like it’s not a big deal. Sam doesn’t say anything, just waits patiently and frowns, but he plasters a smile on his face before you can see.

“Well, let’s go! I should get a suit in some wild color just to piss Stark off.” His grin is genuine and mischievous, and you laugh as you turn and meet his eyes.

“Definitely a great plan. Let me get in some clean clothes then we’ll go.” You grin back at him and head out, leaving him to shut the lights off and lock the door; or rather, have F.R.I.D.A.Y. do it, but still.

Going shopping was a mistake. You’d been to three stores so far, ignored the judgmental looks from the sales staff that clearly said you didn’t belong, and endured the dress zippers and fabrics all getting caught on your curvy frame.

“None of this stuff fits, Sam.” You whisper as you stare at yourself in the dressing room mirror, dress half-zipped, stuck at your hip. This is the fourth dress you’ve tried on in this store and none have worked so far. You want to scream, rip up the dresses, and disappear. You slip this one off and tug on your street clothes, not noticing Sam in the dressing room with you at first.

“Life is way too short to spend another day at war with yourself babygirl.” Sam murmurs, coming up behind you and resting his hands on your waist, meeting your eyes in your mirror. His voice makes you jump, his touch surprising you, and tears well in your eyes as you shake your head, sniffling.

“I don’t know how not to, Sam. I can ignore it most of the time, but times like these, when Tony wants to throw fancy parties, when I have to go shopping and dress up, I… I can’t.” Your tears roll down your face and Sam whirls you around, cupping your face in his hands.

“I’ll be right there with you, princess. Wear whatever you want. Hell, I’ll find someone that will make your dress specifically for you, if that’s what you want. Please, just don’t cry beautiful.” His voice cracks, saddened, and you sniffle, reaching up to wipe at your face.

“Sam, stop, it’s fine. I don’t expect you to do anything like that, I just won’t go to the party. It’s not a big deal.” You try to pull away but Sam follows, shaking his head.

“I need you to look at me, (Y/N). Please.” His plea breaks whatever will you have and you meet his eyes, which are almost as teary as your own. “You are gorgeous. You don’t need these damn clothes from these stupid stores that don’t like making clothes for anyone above a size zero. You take my breath away every day, whether you’re wearing a tanktop and shorts, covered in grease and oil from working on my wings, or long sleeves and jeans on a cold day. Hell, you could wear a flour sack and you’d still steal my heart every time. Wear what makes you feel good, and ignore everyone else. I love you, (Y/N), and it kills me to see you hurting like this.” His admission stops you cold and your breath catches in your throat, not sure what to say.

“You… You love me, Sam?” You whisper, eyes pleading with him that this isn’t a joke, that he’s being honest. You’re not sure if you can handle him toying with your emotions. Sam smiles softly at you and leans in slowly, giving you time to pull away. When you don’t, Sam presses his lips to yours, conveying all manner of unspoken emotions, and you’re so shocked that you don’t really kiss back. He starts to pull away, taking your non-response as rejection, but you surge forward and kiss him, making Sam chuckle quietly at your eagerness.

“Believe me, babygirl?” He asks when you break apart, grinning brightly at you. You flush, embarrassed by your brazenness, but nod, smiling shyly at him.

“Yeah, I believe you Sam. And uh, I kind of love you too. Just in case you didn’t know.” You declare, and Sam smirks, his eyes dancing.

“I had a guess, from that fiery kiss you just gave me, but it’s good to hear it out loud. Now, let’s go home, we can watch movies or something instead of going to Tony’s lame-ass party.” He suggests, but you surprise him when you shake your head.

“Nah, there’s a consignment shop around the corner, they usually have some cool prom dresses and stuff in my size, we can check there for something. And find you your crazy-colored suit.” You tease, wiping the last of the tears from your eyes, and Sam laughs, pressing a kiss to your temple as you walk out of the dressing room area, his arm over your shoulders.

“Anything for you babygirl.” He promises, and you hold your head a little higher, feeling ready to take on whatever the day, and Tony’s party, has to throw at you.

[a-splash-of-stucky]

A Messed Up Place | Fourteen

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Summary: A collection of precious moments throughout your pregnancy

Warnings: Fluffiness, swearing.

Notes: WooOOOoooOOO! A whole century later and we’re finally back with another chapter! I’ve missed writing for this baby :’) Also -- four fics in four days whut? 2018′s off to a good start ;)

As the summary suggests, this chapter is a collection of ‘moments’ throughout your pregnancy. After the trainwreck that was the last 13 chapters, I’ve decided to finally gift you with some pure fluffy goodness.

AMUP Masterlist

Bucky moves back into the compound that very evening. As they say: no time like the present, right? Having made amends with you, Bucky feels as if the chains that have been holding him back have finally been unshackled, like he can finally go about this relationship the way he actually wants to, the way he should have done from the very start.

He’d had to make a quick trip to the apartment in Brooklyn, just to clear out his things. He hadn’t brought a lot with him in the first place, which means that most of his worldly possessions are still safely stowed in his room in the compound — something that worked out in his favour, in the end.

Since then, he’s thrown himself into romancing you like he’s never romanced anyone before. Bucky’s also been doing a lot of reading, trying to prepare himself for parenthood as best as he can.

The rest of the team are happy to have him back at the compound, if a little puzzled by his sudden, unexplained disappearance, and equally confounding return. Natasha comes to visit him a couple of days after he moves back in. a grim set to her jaw and a purposeful gleam in her eye.

Bucky watches her with wary eyes from his spot on the bed, hands stilling in his lap. He’d been cleaning one of his rifles before she’d come in and interrupted him. He tracks her as she leans against his dresser, arms loosely folded over her chest.

“I know that you and Y/N had something going on before she got with Steve,” she tells him. Before Bucky can open his mouth to refute her claim, she holds a single finger up and barrels on. “I also know that when she did get with Steve, you were devastated. Pretty obvious with the way you were moping about the place. And it’s why you asked me to set you up, right?”

Bucky hasn’t said anything, but his silence must’ve been a good enough answer for her.

“It was to help you get over her, wasn’t it?” Natasha presses, picking up the comb he keeps on top of his dresser and twirling it between her fingers. “It was to get over her.”

“Stop,” Bucky growls, hands clenching into fists at his sides.

She smiles tiredly. “I’m not judging you, Barnes. I just—,” she breaks off, eyes downcast as she says the next two words. “The baby.”

“What about it?” Bucky asks tersely.

“Is…I don’t know whether it’s yours, or whether it’s his, but I’m guessing that it’s either Steve’s death or her pregnancy that was your trigger. One of those things, or maybe both of them, I don’t know — made you leave,” she surmises, setting the brush down and affixing him with a cool gaze.

“The two events happened so close together—I’m just not sure what set you off. But—whatever it is, I just hope you two get it sorted out.”

Bucky blinks owlishly, surprised by the sudden swerve in the conversation. “I—thanks, Natasha,” he murmurs.

She nods curtly, pushing off from his dresser and sauntering towards his door in one sinuous motion. “You’re both good people,” she says, glancing at him from over her shoulder. “Idiots, but good people.”

“Thanks,” Bucky says dryly. She blows him an exaggerated kiss as the door falls shut.

————————

“You don’t have to come,” you say nervously, for what is probably the tenth time in half as many minutes. “I’ve gone to them by myself before, it’s—,”

“Y/N,” Bucky says, cutting short your nervous babble. “I want to, okay? I really do. I wanna go with you, I wanna see the baby.”

“Okay,” you breathe, smiling nervously at him. “Okay, of course.”

It takes exactly eighteen minutes for Happy to drive you both to the hospital. Throughout the entire journey, you keep your hands folded in your lap, fidgeting anxiously with the hem of your t-shirt. Towards the end of the drive, Bucky finds himself reaching across the massive gap between you and him in the back seat, resting his hand on your knee and squeezing it reassuringly. You’re startled by the sudden gesture, but the tentative smile you flash his way tells him that you’ve appreciated it, nonetheless.

Happy pulls up in front of a sleek building which Bucky has a hard time believing is an actual hospital. It’s all shiny glass and polished steel and spotless floors, nothing like the dingy labs that HYDRA used to work in. Though the interior is sophistically decorated, the faint scent of antiseptic that seems to cling to every hospital building is present, making Bucky’s nose scrunch up in disdain. He follows you to your doctor’s office — Dr Habiba, he learns, is her name — and takes a seat in the overstuffed armchair. You, on the other hand, perch yourself on the examining table, jiggling one leg nervously.

It’s a fairly standard office, albeit devoid of those tacky health-conscious posters that normally adorn hospital walls. Even the medical equipment in there has its own aesthetic appeal, fitting in with the rest of the decor as if they were abstract art installations.

“Twenty weeks, eh?” Dr Habiba comments, once she’s got you settled on your back. You smile and nod, your expression perking up as she chats pregnancy stuff with you — most of it goes straight over Bucky’s head. Dr Habiba’s got dark skin and jet black hair that she’s pulled back into a neat chignon. By his best guess, she’s probably in her mid-forties. She seems pretty competent, moving the machinery around and speaking with the air of someone who’s been through this routine a billion times.

When it’s time to start the scan, you gesture for Bucky to stand beside you, near your head. He’s touched by the gesture, even more so when you take his flesh hand from where it’s lying beside your shoulder and interlace your fingers together.

“All healthy, looks exactly as it should be at this stage,” is the verdict you receive. You blow out a breath Bucky hadn’t realised you’d been holding, expression visibly relaxing at the words.

“You sure you don’t want to find out the sex of your baby?” Dr Habiba asks, looking to you, then Bucky, then back again. Bucky flushes. Does she think that the baby is his, or something? After he’d introduced himself, you’d told her that Bucky was a friend of yours. Perhaps the doctor is more perceptive than she appears.

Bucky squints at the mass of black and white on the monitor. The grainy image does look like a baby, he’ll give it that; he can see the shape of the head, can even make out the bump of a nose and the slope of what he thinks could be a lip. Even so, he’s got no idea how this woman, talented as she may be, can tell what sex the baby is with any kind of certainty.

“Um,” you say, sharing a look with Bucky that he can’t decipher. “I—um, well…I…Bucky? Do you wanna know?”

He’s taken aback. Surely it’s your decision, not his. Bucky licks his lips nervously. “I…uh…only if you want to,” he says hesitantly, not sure whether that’s the answer you’re wanting to hear.

“But do you want to?” you ask, more insistently this time, as if his opinion really matters to you.

“Uh…not really,” Bucky admits, free hand scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “I—think a surprise might be nice.”

Your mouth splits into a grin, eyes beaming with happiness. “Really? Great!” you exclaim.

Dr Habiba has been watching this entire exchange with an amused smile on her face, clearly discerning that there’s something more going on between you and Bucky, that you are clearly more than just ‘friends’, as you’d claimed. Whatever she thinks she does not voice aloud, however, instead just murmuring a soft ‘okay then’ as she turns back to the screen of her monitor.

“How many pictures do you want me to print out?” she asks.

“Three,” you say unhesitatingly. At Bucky’s arched eyebrow, you elaborate, “One for me, one for the fridge in the kitchen — so that no one tries to steal my picture, y’know? And one for you.”

Bucky is not ashamed to admit that he looks at that small print-out for a full five minutes before he falls asleep that night.

————————

“Oh fuck, Bucky!” you moan, head lolling forward as Bucky runs his hands all over your back.

“Yeah, doll? That feel good?” he murmurs absentmindedly. He digs his thumbs into the base of your spine, chuckling at the low groan that rumbles out of your throat.

“Ah, f-fuck, yeah,” you hiss, as his hands start to smooth down your sides, exerting just the right amount of pressure to make your body limp and pliant.

Someone snickers.

Bucky looks towards the direction of the sound and discovers that the source is Wanda, who is trying very hard to conceal her giggles behind her hand. Sam and Natasha, sitting on either side of her, are doing their best to suppress their own smiles. Bucky quirks an eyebrow up questioningly, and that seems to be the tipping point. Wanda gives in, doubling over and clutching her stomach as her shoulders shake. Her laughter set Natasha off, who buries her face into Sam’s neck.

“Wha’s so funny?” you slur out. You scoot backwards and inch the bright red exercise ball you’re bouncing on towards Bucky, so that his hands can start massaging out the tense knots in your shoulder.

“S’nothin,” Sam snorts, “You just sounds like you’re havin’ sex over there.”

“Fuck you, Wilson,” you growl, though the heat in your tone is subsequently ruined by the whimper that falls from your lips. This promptly sets off another round of giggles among your three spectators. Bucky can feel his lips fighting to pull into a smile, even as his cheeks flame up in embarrassment. It seems that you’ve decided to staunchly ignore Natasha’s wolf-whistles, instead choosing to arch into the steady press of Bucky’s fingers.

When you told him that you were feeling sore today, Bucky hadn’t hesitated to offer you a back rub. In hindsight, he probably should’ve waited for the privacy of your room, or something.

Tony and Pepper walk in at that moment. “What is this I hear about sex being had? Why am I not invited?” Tony asks loudly.

“Tony,” Pepper sighs, giving him a gentle cuff on the ear. He scowls like a little child in response.

“Bucky’s giving Y/N a massage,” Wanda wheezes, still not having fully recovered from her laughing fit, “And I think Y/N’s enjoying it a bit too much.”

“Fuck you, Wanda,” you grumble. Bucky pets your side sympathetically.

“Well, I think we should all just be happy that Y/N and Bucky have worked things out,” Pepper says, raising her voice to be heard above everyone’s laughter. “And we should all leave them in peace, hmm?” she suggests, eyes darting towards the door pointedly.

“It’s okay, Pepper, they can stay if they want to,” Bucky assures her.

It’s good knowing that the rest of the team are at ease like this. Bucky hadn’t noticed it, but him being in a sour mood for the better part of six months had really been a dampener on the atmosphere at the compound. Now, with all of the bad air cleared between you and him, it’s like a curse has been lifted; smiles are easier to come by, nowadays, and the sounds of laughter can almost always be heard.

Besides Sam, no one else on the team knows the full truth. Of course, some version of the truth had to be fed to them, that had been an inescapable fact. The condensed version of yours and Bucky’s story, is that you and Bucky started a friends-with-benefits arrangement about six months before you got with Steve, after which, the arrangement became null. Then, one drunken night of passion in KL changed everything, meaning that this baby could potentially by his — that had earned you and him a couple of disapproving looks, at the time. The two of you have assured everyone that you’ve put your differences and disagreements behind you, and that your relationship from here on out should progress a whole lot more smoothly.

Natasha’s probably managed to put together more of the puzzle, but he’s not going to begrudge her that. Natasha’s Natasha; she’ll understand, in her own roundabout way.

“How dare you insult the pregnant woman,” you grumble, tipping your neck forward to give Bucky more room. “Just fuck off and let Bucky give me my massage in peace.”

Bucky can’t help but smile a little at the hint of fondness in your tone.

————————

You’re coming out of the bathroom just as Bucky pops his head into your bedroom, having just got back from a trip to the city. You’re swathed in a fluffy polka dot bathrobe, your damp hair hanging limply around your face. Bucky holds up the small canvas bag he’s holding in his right hand and waggles his eyebrows triumphantly.

“What’s that?” you ask, waddling over to your bed and sinking down on it with a grateful sigh. Being five and a half months pregnant is starting to take its toll on you.

Instead of answering verbally, Bucky comes bounding up beside you, thrusting the bag into your hands. Nervous excitement is radiating out of his every pore. He feels a little like a wolf that’s gone hunting for its mate — not that you’re his mate, or anything — and is now presenting his treasures for inspection.

Your lips pull into a frown, which quickly turns into a giddy smile when you peer into the bag. Inside is a collection of fruits that Bucky bought from the farmer’s market earlier this morning — strawberries, blueberries, a small melon, even a couple of mangoes.

“Bucky, what…?” your voice trails off as you turn to look up at him, eyes sparkling with wonderment.

Bucky shifts his weight from foot to foot and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Well, uh…I’ve noticed that you’ve been craving a lot of fruits, lately, especially the sweet kind, so I—I went out and bought you some.”

He doesn’t know what he was expecting, exactly, but he’s certainly taken by surprise when you surge forward and throw your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a fierce hug. “Thank you,” you whisper sincerely. Bucky wraps his arms around your torso and gives you a gentle squeeze, not wanting to jostle anything he shouldn’t be jostling. He’s enjoying the way his heart swells with pride at having made you this happy.

“Oh, there’s also this,” Bucky says, when you finally step away. He shrugs his backpack off his shoulders and plonks it on the bed, pulling open the zip and rummaging around inside. With a soft hum of victory, he pulls out a tub of cookies and cream ice cream and waves it in your direction.

“You got me ice cream?” you gasp, eyes going comically wide.

“Well, last week you said you really wanted some,” Bucky said, handing it over to you. There’s a brief moment where his fingers brush yours as you take the tub from his hands — maybe it’s his imagination, but he swears that sparks fly at that point of contact.

“You remembered that?” you ask softly, gazing down at the tub of ice cream like it’s a whole lot more symbolic than simply, a tub of ice cream.

Bucky snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. “You were keeping me awake all night talking about it!” he reminds you, aiming for nonchalance, but tone coming out far too tender for him to do it effectively. Besides, he’s pretty sure he’s got some goofy grin on his face that ruins the effect anyhow.

You shyly catch his gaze through your lashes. “I was not,” you mutter, “But thank you. I love you.”

Bucky’s breath hitches in his throat, just as your free hand flies up to clamp over your mouth. Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head once the words you’ve just said finally register with your brain.

“Y/N—,”

“I’m sorry!” you blurt out, “I—I mean, I do, but—,”

“Romantically?” Bucky interrupts, “Or as a friend?”

Your jaw snaps shut, eyes travelling to the floor by your feet, not wanting to meet his stare. “Um…would you kill me if I said both?” you ask timidly.

“No,” Bucky replies. “I bought these things for you because I feel both, as well.”

“Oh, good,” you say, before tossing the ice cream onto the bed and pulling Bucky in for another enthusiastic hug.

————————

Bucky’s just finished relieving himself and is busy washing his hands at the sink when he hears your scream.

“Bucky!” you shout, “Get in here, now!”

A million and one thoughts surge through his system, a sense of panic being the strongest of them all. He bursts through the door — probably ripping it off of its hinges in the process — and sprints towards you. You’re sat on the armchair in the corner of his bedroom, bottom lip caught between your teeth and hands cradling your bump.

“Y/N?” Bucky asks breathlessly, fighting to keep his cool in the face of all the emotions threatening to cloud his rational mind. Bucky collapses to his knees in front of you, reaching up to cup your face. “What’s wrong? Is it the baby? Are you hurt? Are you—”

He shuts up when you grab his flesh hand and place it on top of your belly. His confusion deepens momentarily, until he feels a barely-there fluttering sensation against his palm. Understanding clicks into place.

“Are those—,”

“The baby!” you cry happily, your hand coming to rest on top of his. “You feel it?”

Bucky has to swallows around the lump in his throat before he speaks. “Yeah,” he says hoarsely, “I feel it, alright.”

He flattens out his hand, pressing as much of his palm onto your stomach as he possibly can to maximise the amount of movement he can feel. There’s no pattern to the motion. He’ll feel a quick burst of fluttering, before the baby quietens down again. Some movements are harder and sharper than the others, but all make him smile equally wide. There may or may not be tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. He makes no move to brush them away.

“I started feeling movement a few weeks ago, but you never when you were around, for some reason,” you say softly, the fingers of your other hand threading through his hair, nails scratching gently against his skull. He has a sudden urge to butt into the touch, nuzzle his head into your palm like a cat.

Bucky’s not embarrassed to admit that the two of you spend the rest of the afternoon watching a movie from your couch, your hands intertwined on top of your stomach. He can think of worse ways to spend his day.

————————

Bucky is lying on his bed, back propped up by a couple of pillows, feet crossed at the ankles and a parenting book held in his left hand. He looks up when you breeze in through his open door, a small white box in your hand.

He resolutely tries to not think about the last time you waltzed into his room holding a box. The past is the past, and your relationship has come far since that day.

“I bought my first something for the baby!” you announce, beaming happily at Bucky as you climb onto the bed.

“Oh really?” Bucky asks, putting his bookmark back into place, before setting the book on his bedside table and pushing himself upright. He crosses his legs Indian-style and rests his elbows on his knees, all whilst trying to tame the exhilarated thumping of his heart. “What is it? Lemme see.”

You twist around so that you’re sitting on the bed properly, mirroring Bucky’s pose. You set the box down between the two of you. It’s square-shaped and pristine white, probably a little larger than Bucky’s hand. The name of the company is embossed on the front in a neat gold font. You open the lid and set it aside, then reach into the box and pull out the — wait, is that a piece of fabric?

“It’s a blanket,” you explain, holding the item in question up and shaking it brusquely, so that it opens up completely. Bucky reaches out and touches it, rubbing the material between the thumb and forefinger of his flesh hand. He fights not to gasp aloud; the blanket is the softest thing to have ever touched his skin.

You pass it to him and Bucky drapes it over his lap, running his fingers over the material to marvel at its unbelievable softness — Jesus Christ, he can’t wrap his head around how silky this thing feels. It’s a pale brown colour, a cross between beige and warm chestnut. There’s a small teddy-bear embroidered on one corner. It’s square-shaped and pretty large too, probably about half a metre in length and width.

“I wanna go baby shopping with you,” Bucky says suddenly, the words coming out of his mouth before his brain can even parse them through.

“Okay,” you say, as if that settles everything. It’s probably not as big a deal as Bucky’s making it out to be in his head, but his excitement levels have definitely kicked up a notch at the prospect of being able to go baby shopping with you. With great reluctance, he hands the blanket back over to you, observing as you carefully fold it into a neat square and place it back into its box.

“I need to properly start buying clothes and things,” you sigh, “Ugh, I need a changing table, and a crib, and a stroller, and—,”

“Hey,” Bucky interrupts, laying a hand on your knee, “Don’t stress yourself out. I’m here to help, right?”

The corner of your lips quirk up into a half-smile, just as one of your hands come to rest on top of his, your thumb stroking over his knuckles. “Yeah. I’m glad,” you murmur. “What’re you reading?” you ask, jerking your chin over to the book he’d set down.

“Oh, uh…” Bucky flushes, running a hand through his hair in embarrassment. “Just a parenting book,” he replies. There’s a pause, then, “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this, Y/N,” he says quietly.

Your thumb pauses its back and forth motion. “You…want to stop? To back out?” you ask carefully.

“No!” Bucky cries hurriedly, quick to reassure you that that is not what he means at all. “No, no, I didn’t mean it like that, I just…I think I’m gonna do more harm than good, is all,” he sighs. “I’ve never fed a baby, or put one to bed, or given one a bath, or—,”

“Hey, neither have I,” you point out, “I’m gonna be just as clueless as you are.”

“But—,”

“We’ll just have to learn together, yeah?”

And there’s just something so earnest in your gaze that Bucky finds himself not caring about his inexperience anymore. Who cares if he fucks things up? It’s all a learning curve, right? Even so, he can’t quite shake off all his worries. “And—there’s something else,” Bucky says, “It’s not just that.”

“No?”

“No,” he admits, shaking his head slowly as he gathers up the courage to say what he’s been meaning to say for a while. “I—don’t know if this,” he says, waving his metal arm around, “Was made for handling babies.”

He forces his gaze to meet your eyes, even though all he wants to do is curl up into a ball in the corner and wallow in his self-pity. Bucky watches as your eyes soften, your mouth falling open into a soft ‘o’.

Moving carefully, as if you don’t want to spook him, you reach forward and take hold of the wrist of his metal hand, bringing it into your lap. You wrap both of your hands around it, enclosing it in your grasp. Your gaze flick towards Bucky to ensure that he has his eyes on you, before you bring that hand up to your lips and slowly, deliberately, brush the tenderest kiss over each knuckle. Then, you stretch each finger out and press your lips to each fingertip. There’s a sense of reverence to your actions, adoration and—and acceptance so clearly discernible in your gaze. The gears and plates in his arm whirr and click, responding to the nervous energy flickering through him. Bucky wants to snatch his hand away from you, but it is as if you have him frozen in place.

His breath hitches as you use one finger to trace the grooves on the back of his hand, your expression unreadable as you cock your head to the side. “I have faith in you,” you say quietly. “Once upon a time, you didn’t think that this hand could touch my lady bits, either, remember?”

“Y/N,” Bucky says exasperatedly, pushing aside the scandalous images that pop into his head.

“And lemme tell you,” you whisper breathily, leaning in closer so that your face is just inches away from his own. “I’ve had some of the best orgasms of my life, thanks to these fingers.”

Bucky feels as if you’ve stolen the breath from his lungs. He clears his throat and tries to remember how to get his mouth working again. “M-metal arm kink,” he jokes, but his voice is too husky for it to come off as playful as he wants it to.

You shake your head. “No! Well, actually—maybe, but that’s not the point,” you say, rolling your eyes at Bucky’s self-satisfied smirk. “My point is that you’ve got more control over this arm than you give yourself credit for,” you tell him, giving the hand an extra-tight squeeze, for emphasis. “I mean, I’m sure you can get Tony to amp up the sensors in it, if you really wanted to, but—whatever the case, I know that you won’t hurt the baby, and that’s good enough for me.”

If Bucky were to ask himself what possessed him to reach up and cup your jaw, at this point, he wouldn’t have been able to answer his own question. He feels as if his body is on autopilot, flesh hand holding the back of your neck as he leans forward. He’s thrilled to see that you’re closing your eyes, your own head tipping upwards and slightly to the left.

The first press of his lips against yours is perfect — everything he remembered it to be from that night in KL, yet so much better, untainted by bitter thoughts of self-hatred. You hum softly in the back of your throat as Bucky deepens the kiss, tongue licking lightly at the seam of your lips. God, but he’s wanted this for as long as he’s known you. All the parts of him are singing in ecstasy, overjoyed to finally be able to indulge in this experience with you.

The two of you pull away before anything can get too heated. Bucky does so remorsefully, but he knows it’s for the best, in the long run.

You sit back, a dazed look in your eyes. Bucky swallows, cards his hands through his hair. He doesn’t know how you’ll react to that. “Um…that was—,”

“Perfect,” you finish, smiling happily at him.

Bucky breathes an internal sigh of relief. “I—yeah. That’s…yeah. Wanna watch a movie or something?”

————————

The two of you are in your room, snuggled up under the covers as a random movie plays on the TV. You’ve got the volume turned down low, however, because neither of you are really watching it. You’re just using it as an excuse to have a lazy evening together.

You’re pressed up against Bucky’s side and his fingers are idly drawing loopy patterns on your tummy. With you at almost seven months pregnant, your belly has rounded out considerably. One of Bucky’s favourite past times is running his hands all over it.

“C’mon, I’m being serious here, any name suggestions?” you ask, prodding him on the shoulder. “This baby ain’t gonna name itself, y’know?”

“What boy names are you thinking of?” Bucky asks.

“I was thinking maybe Steve, or Steven as a middle name,” you admit.

Bucky snorts. “We should spell it S-T-E-P-H-E-N,” he jokes.

You scrunch up your noise in disgust. “Ew, no, that’s an atrocity. I—fuck no, that’s too weird.”

Bucky laughs, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. A hint of possessive pride flares in his chest at the way you burrow even closer to him. “Being serious though,” Bucky continues, “I like that idea. Using Steve’s name, I mean. Spelt the proper way.”

You hum, brows knitted together in thought. It’s apparent that you haven’t heard a word he’s just said. “Or…how about Roger? As a middle name, I mean?” you suggest.

“Oh, that’s nice too,” Bucky says. “But why’re you thinking of middle names first? Shouldn’t first names come first?”

“I know,” you sigh, scrubbing a hand over your eyes. “They’re just harder to think of.”

“What ideas d’you got?”

“I like Carter,” you tell him, “William. Nicholas. Theodore—,”

“Theodore’s good,” Bucky interjects.

“Yeah? Theodore Roger?”

“Yeah, and the baby’ll have your last name, right?” Bucky asks.

You turn your face to look at him properly, confusion evident in your expression. “Oh? Are you sure?”

“Well, we don’t exactly know whether this baby is mine or Steve’s, right?” Bucky points out, shrugging one shoulder indifferently. “I mean, well—it’s all up to you at the end of the day, I guess, I’m okay with anything.”

Bucky watches as you nibble on your bottom lip, mulling over what he’s just said. “Yeah, I—y’know, let’s just cross that bridge when we get there, ‘kay?”

“Sure thing, doll,” Bucky agrees, squeezing your hand reassuringly. He watches as you yawn widely, covering your mouth with your hand, a sheepish look in your eyes. Bucky then notes the time on the clock on your bedside table; it’s almost 11PM at night.

“I’ll just head into my—,”

“No!” you cry, hand darting out to catch his wrist as Bucky moves to roll away from you. Bucky stills, heart racing so fast he can feel it in his throat. “I—I mean,” you add hastily, “I would really like it if you could stay, but if you wanna go back, I understand.”

It takes Bucky two tries to get his answer out. “Okay, doll, I’ll stay,” he says softly, reaching out to stroke your hair out of your face. He asks FRIDAY to switch off the movie as he rearranges the pillows around you, propping one underneath your head, before pulling the covers up and over the both of you. He reaches over to switch off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. You pull him down by the sleeve of his shirt, rolling onto your left side so that Bucky can spoon you.

His mind is whirling. This is the first time he’s actually sleeping with you — that night in KL doesn’t count — and his heart doesn’t know what to do with itself. He hopes that you can’t feel or hear the mad thumping of his pulse. Bucky allows his body to do what feels natural, curling protectively around your back, his arm resting around your burgeoning waist, his nose tucking into the space behind your neck. Your hand rests on top of his, fingers intertwining with his flesh ones.

“I love you,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your skin.

“Love you too,” you whisper.

————————

“Oh my god, Y/N!” Bucky gasps.

“What?” you ask, turning around to look at him.

“Look at these!” Bucky cries excitedly, holding the tiny booties up for you to see. They’re a lovely blue colour, with white stripes on the soles. “They’re so tiny!”

“I know!”

“They’re so cute!”

You place your hands on your hips and narrow your eyes at Bucky in suspicion. “Barnes, do you need a moment? Need to step outside?” you tease, “I’m gonna need you to calm down.”

“But they’re so cute!” Bucky whines, as he brings them over to you for closer inspection. He drops them into your hands and watches the small smile that crosses your lips as you rub the material between your fingers.

“It’s times like these that I wish I knew what I was having,” you groan, looking miserably around the shop.

“You’re having a human child, I hope,” Bucky deadpans.

You snort, smacking him across the chest with the back of your hand. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it!”

Bucky grunts in agreement; for as progressive as this century may be, all the baby clothes in this shop seem to be in various shades of either pink or blue. “Everything’s either really girly, or really boyish,” you grumble, as you continue walking between the racks of clothes. “I mean, yeah, if I had a boy, I could put him in pink things, and vice versa, but…yeah.”

“Oh look!” Bucky cries, as the pair of you round the corner and enter a different part of the shop. Specifically, the part of the shop that houses distinctly less gendered clothing; the unisex section. Everything here is in calming shades of white, beige, yellow and green. Bucky wanders down the aisles, dropping the items of clothing that catch his fancy into his basket as he passes them by.

“Buck? Come take a look at these,” you call.

Bucky hurries over to you and barks out a sharp laugh at the display you’re looking at. “Avengers merch? For real?” he asks.

“Bucky, we need to get this stuff,” you say seriously, moving to put a set of Black Widow-themed bibs into your basket.

“Wait, no!” Bucky says, catching your wrist to stop you.

“What? Why not?”

“Because I’m pretty sure the rest of the team are going to get us this kinda stuff for our baby shower,” Bucky explains. You frown, but shrug a shoulder in agreement, dropping the subject in favour of exploring the rest of the shop.

Bucky’s noticed that he’s started referring to the two of you as ‘us’ more and more frequently, in recent days. It’s not something that he consciously chose to do — it’s more a habit that he picked up and found he couldn’t stop. If you notice, you don’t correct him and for that, he’s secretly pleased.

————————

“Never again!” you groan, throwing an arm over your eyes dramatically. Bucky chuckles as he continues digging his thumbs into the soles of your feet. Apparently, three hours of non-stop shopping takes a lot out of a heavily pregnant lady.

“Never again,” Bucky agrees.

“How ‘bout Samantha?” you suggest, continuing the discussion you’d been having in the car. You lift your arm away from your eyes at Bucky’s indignant scoff.

“Who’s nickname would be Sam? Do you want Wilson’s head to get any bigger?” Bucky asks, “If it gets any bigger, he won’t be able to fit it through the door.”

“Okay, okay, point taken,” you laugh. “What about…ooh! What about Stephanie? Or Steffi, as a play on Steve?”

“Oh, I like Steffi, actually,” Bucky agrees, using a thumb to dig into a particularly sore section of your foot, if your sharp intake of breath is anything to go by.

“Middle name?” you prompt. “Oh, what about after your ma? Or one of your sisters?”

Bucky’s fingers falter at your suggestion. It means a lot to him, honestly. “Um…Steffi Rebecca doesn’t sound that nice, and neither does Steffi Winifred,” he muses. “My second youngest sister was Elizabeth—,”

“Steffi Elizabeth?” you try, “Mmm…Steffi Beth? No, don’t think so.”

“And my youngest sister was Ann,” Bucky finishes.

“Steffi Ann,” you murmur, lips pulling into a small smile. “I like it. I really like it, actually.”

“Me too,” Bucky says quietly, “Almost as much as I like you.”

“Like?” you echo, waggling your eyebrows suggestively.

Bucky rolls his eyes but takes the bait. “Okay, more like love,” he admits, as he leans forward to plant a soft kiss on your lips.

“Love you too,” you breathe.

[purplefictionmom]

I'd normally be like "ALL THE QUESTIONS" but I'm really interested in 7 and 15 (but like if you wanted to do them all then hell yeah pls do)

You know what, Imma answer them all, cause I love you darling~

All answers under the cut, cause I’m sure I'll get long winded, as usual haha

1) is there a story you’re holding off on writing for some reason?I mean, there was a story that I had been sitting on for...10 years, I think? I just didn’t know how I wanted to tell the story. It started as a mockumentary type of thing, then when that didn’t fit the narrative style I wanted to tell, I moved to a classic modern fantasy style, but that didn’t pan out either.

Then, the game called “What Remains of Edith Finch” came out and it hit me so hard that I nearly passed out: that is the perfect narrative style for the book idea I’ve been sitting on!!

Incidentally, if you haven’t played/watched someone play it, “What remains of Edith Finch” is an excellent game and Jacksepticeye does a wonderful let’s play of it :D

2) what work of yours, if any, are you the most embarrassed about existing?Not as much anymore, but I used to hate bringing up “...And the Things That Followed.” Just for a short what-for: ATTTF is a Left4Dead/2 fanfiction, reader-insert that started as a sort of experiment: I perused lunaescence and picked a fandom that I was familiar with, but that didn’t have a lot of fanfiction to choose from. I mostly wanted to see if smaller fandoms stay active, even with very little content to choose from. And boy, did I get my answer.

The biggest reason that I ended up embarrassed over it was because I hadn’t intended it to be a romance fic (I mean...the two main characters are the reader and a Hunter, and what with necrophilia being really gross and all...), but I had readers out and out demand for it, to the point of going on strike from reading my fanfic. This was years ago, mind you, so I caved like a wet noodle and now hate that particular fanfic, to the point where I don’t even want to write the two sequels that I already had planned and half-written.

So, it started out as embarrassment, now its more I wish I could just delete it and forget it exists, but I’m one of those authors who has a really hard time deleting anything, even things I hate haha.

3) what order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?For the very first, ultimate scene I picture in each fic/story/novel, it could really end up anywhere in the final version.

After that first initial scene I see, I try to start as far back as I think I can get away with and move forward from there, so I guess the short answer is I write from beginning to end, no matter how it ends up being at the end, haha.

4) favorite character you’ve writtenI guess this is supposed to not include characters I don’t own, but that’s no fun so here you go:

OC: A supernatural Hunter named Silva and another hunter (who I have an rp blog for) named Theodora ‘Timmie’ Wilson

Non-OC: Writing Yusuke from YYH and Asgore from UT

5) character you were most surprised to end up writingI’m not quite sure what this question means, so I’ll just take a stab and guess it’s talking about how a character can end up differently on paper than how you first envisioned them in your head.

And that award goes to Silva. I expected her to be a hard, cold killer, but she had so much inner turmoil and hidden thoughts that she was definitely the hardest character to write until I actually started to understand her.

Which took an ungodly amount of time, tbh haha.

6) something you would go back and change in your writing that it’s too late/complicated to change nowProbably how often I use the double-hyphen. Its meant to be an alternative to using commas (which, I use to many as it is anyway haha), but now they litter my writing like popcorn on the floor at a midnight release, haha.

7) when asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?Honestly? A little of both.

I’m someone who sees fanfiction (and any fanwork at all, tbh) as legitimate art forms, but there are so many who not only don’t agree, but they belittle and question those who participate in fandoms.

There are days I have all my shit together and I’m ready to defend my fanfiction to the death, along with all my original content; I have my sources, I have examples, so on and so forth, but other days...

Well, let’s just say there are days I don’t even volunteer that information to people willingly haha.

8) favorite genre to writeOther than fanfiction, I love horror, fantasy, and scifi the best, though there are plenty of times it feels like I’m hardly writing for any of those genres at all, haha.

9) what, if anything, do you do for inspiration?Fanfiction, most of the time, but I also listen to songs on the radio, discuss ideas with friends/family (my step-dad was the only person when I was growing up who nurtured my love for telling stories and many of my ideas for novels came from talking with him over the years), or I also like to free-write.

At least, I think its called free-writing haha. I basically just put my pen on paper and just talk to the page with my pen. Sometimes, its just a rant, but more often then not, I’ll find a story or character hidden there.

10) write in silence or with background noise? with people or alone?All of the above, haha. In the perfect atmosphere, music is playing in the background, and I’m completely alone with no distractions, but since that’s not reality, I’ve sort of forced myself to adapt to what I can.

My computer (where I do 90% of my writing) is in the living room of my house, so my hubby is usually around, and if he’s playing overwatch, then its usually a few voices playing in the background.

If it gets to be too distracting, I just put headphones in, but I also write in notebooks and I take those everywhere, so for that, I just write when/what I can as I go along.

11) what aspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you started writing?Definitely dialogue, but also my prose. Honestly, all of it, haha. I look back at stuff I wrote years ago and I wonder how anybody thought I was any good, haha.

12) your weaknesses as an authorIf I had to pick one, its probably that I tend to either over-explain, or under-explain. There is no in-between, haha. My first drafts are often a mess of me focusing in on the details of one room and then not describing a setting for two chapters or more.

13) your strengths as an authorProbably my ability to logically follow order of events, even though I don’t plot, like, at all. This also makes it easy to see where I can divert from what’s expected and explore different avenues.

14) do you make playlists for your current wips?Not really? I tend to either put my whole library on shuffle, or I have a dedicated writing playlist that’s full of background music from video games and other things like that.

15) why did you start writing?It started as an outlet.

When I was about 10, my dad came home from work one day while my mom was still at work and while I watched, packed all his stuff into his car, called my mother and told her that if she didn’t get off work soon I’d be home alone, and then left.

I was in a complete and total depression from around then until well into my late teens (I have a little depression now, and a slew of other problems, but now for diff reasons). On top of my dad leaving, my mother, step-father and I all moved to a completely new state, where I started to bomb academically and had literally no friends until almost a year later.

It started out as angsty pre-teen poetry (a lot of which actually still pretty good, even as I go back to read it), then it spilled into fanfiction and fandoms, and around the age of 13--once my step-dad found my love of writing and wanted to pull me away from fanfiction--I finally started writing original ideas out.

16) are there any characters who haunt you?Silva, and a few others. Not so much because their stories are left untold, but moreso because of the way they helped shape me as a writer and the things I was interested in writing about.

The debate about whether or not a writer should write about a certain subject usually stems from readers, but I tend to lean toward the argument from a writer’s point of view: there are subjects that I broached as a teenager that I needed to explore in order to be who I am today, as a person and as a writer. Not to say I have something horrible in my writer’s past that I wouldn’t be able to share, but more that it might be questionable about the age that I delved into those topics. (and no, I don’t mean just smut, though that is included in what I’m talking about)

17) if you could give your fledgling author self any advice, what would it be?Stop wasting your time trying to please family members with what you write. Most of them are going to ignore the whole of your writing and focus in on the one swear word you threw in for characterization anyway.

Write what makes you happy; whether or not its publishable isn’t the point. You’re just starting out and you need to write; to get better, to learn the ropes, so just go WRITE!

18) were there any works you read that affected you so much that it influenced your writing style? what were they?Oh geez...at the beginning, everything I read affected my writing style. Fanfiction, published novels, everything.

Probably my biggest influencers would be “The Green Mile” by Stephen King, “The Hobbit” by JRR Tolkien, “This Present Darkness” By Frank Peretti.

And while these are hugely different authors with different writing styles, they more influenced me in my way of thinking. Of expanding my imagination of what could be if I just had the courage to write it.

19) when it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?I either have a notebook filled with notes about characters/information, or I use a website called Hiveword(dot)com. It’s a novel tracking website that also advertises its program (which you have to pay for), but the website itself is free and you can store all the information about your book, characters, timeline, etc.

20) do you write in long sit-down sessions or in little spurts?Both, but I get more done with longer sessions. I know that seems like a no-brainer, but its more because of how I prep myself for my writing time:

I have to have a glass of water or cup of coffee, I have to have my music playing (which, with spotify could take a few minutes to load), I have to re-read the last page or so of what was previously written so I can get back into the feel of it, then I can actually sit down and write.

the little spurts end up being in my notebooks and they’re a mess, honestly, haha.

21) what do you think when you read over your older work?I used to cringe and close it immediately, but I’ve been trying to analyze and see the biggest differences in my writings from a then and now standpoint. Sometimes its really hard, if its particularly bad or whatev, but its been a real confidence booster when I can see where I was and where I am now.

22) are there any subjects that make you uncomfortable to write?Not uncomfortable, per se, but I tend to try and think of things from a reader’s perspective at the same time I write, so there are times when I get a little too involved in what’s happening on the page, haha.

HIAPOTS was a terror to write at some points because of this.

23) any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?All of it, if I’m being honest, but obscure things specifically? Hmm...

I mean, probably the fact that I give all my pets personalities and conversations between each other? I do it without thinking, but there are times where I’ll find myself using lines or situations from this weird little thing in my actual writings, haha.

24) have you ever become an expert on something you previously knew nothing about, in order to better a scene or a story?OMG SO MUCH. Like, idk about ‘expert’, but I have so much useless trivia in my head because of being an author. Talk with me for an hour and see if I don’t throw ‘fun facts’ into the mix of our conversations haha.

25) copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud ofOh ugh...umm...let me to look...

From a currently unpublished reader/sans fic I’m writing:You understand, don’t you, Sans? 

Sure, Sans understood. Sans always understood. He was the one who didn’t make waves, or overturn boats--you could always count on Sans to be the reassuring nod when you felt lost or the understanding ex who’s perfectly okay with just letting things die, even though the ending came as the greatest punchline ever written in history:

He hadn’t even seen it coming.

(I love delving into characters’ heads, and i love it more when i can do it well enough to feel comfortable with letting other people read it, haha)

From Part 6 of my Garrus/Reader serial fic:“They were my cases,” Garrus admitted, his eyes finally leaving Castis’s in favor of looking at the floor, “And I can’t watch it happen again.”

If Castis didn’t have such a steely reign on his composure now, Garrus might have been clued into his father’s line of thought. As it was, Castis was being forced to realize that he had been wrong in his assessments of his son.The older turian had always thought Garrus shirked the rules and regulations as a form of rebellion, since Castis stepped in and forced him to quit training for the spectres--as if to prove he didn’t care about what his father cared about. Now, Castis realized the reason Garrus pushed them aside so easily was because he did care, maybe too much.

(Honestly, the whole argument between Castis and Garrus in this part of the fic is something I’m proud of)