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shotorozu · 3 years

Text

encountering a ‘pick me’ girl

character(s) : kirishima eijirou, todoroki shouto, bakugou katsuki (bnha)

warning : PICK ME GIRL, misogyny (?) pick me girl makes an off handed comment about your body but it’s not detailed at all

PART TWO — PART THREE

legend : [Y/N = your name] afab! reader, but they/them pronouns used, quirk not mentioned

headcanon type : fluff, angst if you squint

note(s) : i made 2 versions of this post so,, if you’re reading this— then i probably decided that i liked this one more than the other one i made,, anyways, i used real life examples 💀

»»————-　♡　————-««

kirishima eijirou

i’d imagine that eijirou would have an idea of what a pick me girl is— i mean, there were probably 2 of those girls in middle school

but has he experienced it first hand? nahh.

though, eijirou didn’t think he’d encounter one when he was already in a healthy and committed relationship!

eijirou is practically friends with everyone— and yeah, even the most unexpected. so, he’s bound to accidentally befriend a pick me girl

him, being the nicest one out of all of the characters in this list, will still be nice to said pick me girl, despite wanting to snob them to the core

because really— you can’t really fight fire with fire in some cases

but, he can be everything but lenient when the pick me girl starts insulting you for doing certain things, and for absurd reasons too

like,, how you laugh, and how you take care of yourself (for example— if you wear makeup, or how you style your hair)

which is odd! everything about you is everything but the things the pick me girl has stated so.. he cannot stand by.

SCENARIO

the girl giggles to herself after that snide comment leaves her lip gloss coated lips. eijirou shifts uncomfortably— honestly taken aback by the anything but subtle insult that was thrown at you

“like.. seriously! it’s honestly quite superficial if you look at it like that. who the hell would put that much effort infront of your boyfriend? i’d assume they’d see everything AND everything but.. i guess not.”

you blink. superficial? now that’s a new one. the girl infront of you has been babbling insults sugarcoated in boasts the entire time, and you’re just wondering if it’s about time you guys leave but—

“well that’s unfair,” your boyfriend laughs, “i put the same amount of effort as this cutie right here,” eijirou pokes at your cheek, earning a quick laugh from you— which he can only thank the heavens for that

“but that’s different. it actually looks put together when you’re doing it, eiji.” the certain glint in her smile makes you want to wipe it right off with a dirty mop, “it’s impossible to look put together with expensive clothes, but being built like a—”

the sound of the sliding of a chair is quicker than your actions, and it easily cuts her off.

“i’m sorry, but we gotta go, it’s totally not cool of you to say those things about Y/N!”

“what? but i mean.. it’s true, right? i’m looking out for them! they’re literally out here l—”

“bye!” eijirou waves her goodbye with your hand, dismissing the sour expression on her face— as he dashes off with you

you’d question how he’s just so nice to people like that, but when he turns around, you could see the distaste in his eyes

“so that’s what a pick me girl’s like,” shaking his head, his expression lights up with such a quick manner “i’ll never make friends that are like that again!”

safe to say, eijirou’s friend list has been a a person shorter ever since that incident

bakugou katsuki

oh, so that girl’s bold bold.

if she thinks she could get away with being a not so subtle pick me girl infront of bakugou katsuki, then she couldn’t be more wrong.

it’s absolutely revolting— i mean, he hasn’t displayed any romantic feelings towards ANYONE that isn’t you.

also, they’re quite gutsy if you ask me. so congrats for having guts??

i don’t think he’d be friends with a pick me girl. he’s very selective of who he’s befriending, so it’s probably your friend that’s the pick me girl in this case

he wouldn’t know what a pick me girl would be, but he’d probably know the description of one.

over some time, he’d grow some resistance to insults directed at him, but when someone insults his s/o

oh boy. that’s not good. remember when i said that katsuki was almost like your scary and intimidating dog

this is what i mean

knows he can’t make a scene, so his first option is to be dismissive asf— but if said pick me girl literally can’t get it, he won’t be afraid of shoving some explosions into her face

because his hands are rated e for everyone

SCENARIO

“so you wanna be picked or something, is that it?” he hates how you literally have the resistance of a rock— which is something he always liked, but in this case hated. if it weren’t for you— he would’ve blasted explosions into her sorry excuse of a face until it’s beyond recognition (that wouldn’t be hero like, is what you’ve said in the past, but he disagrees.)

but seriously? ugh. he just wants to leave this horrid place, and make some dinner with you in the comfort of his home. why are you even friends with her anyway? she’s not even trying to be slick at this point.

“p-picked? i’m not understanding, katsu.”

“it’s bakugou.”

“right,” her laughter is like nails on chalkboard, “i’m just watching out for Y/N, y’know? there’s no point in wearing all of that.. on their face.” and she’s obviously referring to your obviously very well done makeup

“it’ll make your skin terrible in the long run! and really— i couldn’t really understand on why someone would wear that much, when you could survive with i dunno.. lip gloss at most?”

you would’ve actually said something as a rebuttal, but your boyfriend is quicker, and a lot more direct than anyone else in the area.

“just say you can’t do makeup and fucking scram,” katsuki’s ice cold glare finally breaks out of the act he’s been trying to hold together for you

“their makeup is fucking bomb as hell, compared to your ridiculous spider lashes, lady. come back when you’ve watched james charles’ entire fucking channel.” he harshly states in similar bakugou fashion, despite the lack of screaming.

and if you squinted hard enough, you could see tears welling up in her eyes. but katsuki tugs your hand before anything else could be said

“let’s fucking go, you need better friends.”

he makes you cut ties with all of them, and he practically scolds your terrible choice of friends— but he goes quiet when you tell him that you’ve been friends with her since middle school

“good fucking riddance. next time, i’ll punch them as soon as they say something outta line, got that?” and next time (hopefully, there won’t be a next time) you’ll actually lash out— or maybe,, you’ll let him loose for once.

todoroki shouto

now shouto might be,, socially unaware sometimes. but he can tell whenever someone’s trying to insult his s/o

like,, right away.

now— you both run into this person after a pleasant date, and she eagerly presented herself as your friend

so, her attitude catches him off guard because who’d have anything rude to say about you and towards shouto’s face? especially when it’s about something normal.

like,, wasn’t she your friend?? why is she even like this?

his hostility is very well known, so they should be scared.

he gets detached from the conversation, and he’ll immediately go cold— and shouto would probably go as far as walking away with your hand in his

doesn’t matter if he properly says goodbye or not— if a girl’s being rude to his s/o, they obviously don’t deserve his usually polite attitude. nope, that’s a luxury.

oh— and what more when they’re seeking for his validation. newsflash! said pick me girl won’t be get any from him.

SCENARIO

shouto couldn’t stop the bitterness bleeding into his mouth, when the girl in front of him continued to babble and take up the valuable time he had left with his s/o

initially, she presented herself as your friend from middle school— but as of now? she seems to be more interested in him more than you, despite knowing you first.

she’d ask him a string of obvious questions with very obvious answers, like ‘is she treating you well?’ ‘is she acting correctly?’ and questions of the sort

“oh, sorry! i’d hate to cut this conversation short, but—” you finally decide that it was about time to leave, while shouto looks pretty,, deadpanned right now, you could tell that he was gradually starting to get irritated by your friend’s words.

“wait. thats.. kind of controlling, don’t you think? do you ever let shou make decisions?”

“uh.. controlling? since when??” you question at the accusation. this girl knows nothing about your relationship dynamic, and she’s already jumping the gun and making conclusions.

your gaze snaps back to shouto, who looks just as surprised as he could possibly be.

“yeah! it clearly looks like he still wants to talk” which is an obvious lie, shouto just wants it out of here “i wonder how you managed to snag such a guy like him,” she comments with a smile that looked anything above suspicion (yet, it makes your stomach churn)

you could see the way her hand gets gradually closer to him— and frankly, you’re not sure about what she was planning to do next, “you wouldn’t need to dress all expensive and fancy, if you’re with a girl with an already classy appear—”

“i think this conversation is over,” shouto grip is firm on the wrist that was attempting to grab his shoulder, shouto makes no attempt to even look at the girl infront of him “i don’t know what you’re trying to do, but it’s not humorous. at all.”

“what?” she stammers, drawing her hand back “i-it’s obvious they don’t know how to take a joke! this is why there are barely any good w—”

shouto’s next actions knocks her speechless, his hand rests at the small of your back, before gently guiding you forward— “love, what movie are we watching later?” he says, making an effort to press a quick, yet intense kiss on your lips

“oh,” you breathe out, surprised by this action. “don’t be so tense, love.” shouto comments on how tense your shoulders have looked, ever since she started running her mouth, “now.. what movie do you want to watch tonight? comedy? thriller?”

“you pick,” you laugh at the quick shift of topic. and when you look behind you, you could see shame and defeat welling up on her face. shouto finally feels like he could smile again, the bitterness dissipating from his mouth

after shouto questions you if that was what a pick me girl was, he makes sure that you guys won’t ever encounter such thing again

“you.. don’t have more friends like that, right? if you do— we could always do another friend list cleansing.” this statement makes you laugh but shouto is anything but joking

but being reminded of his reaction to that ‘pick me’ girl does puts a smile on your face.

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

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mrsseverussnape · 4 years

Note

Congrats on 100 followers! Please can I request older!Sirius, who - while laying low in Grimmauld Place - asks Remus to find the love of his life, who’s hidden herself away from the wizarding world when he went to Azkaban. He brings her back to Sirius for a sweet reunion. Thank you!

A/N: Thank you dear! I really liked that request but i took me little bit long, sorry for that. Hope you will like it😽🌹

Characters: Post Azkaban!Sirius Black x fiancée!reader

Theme: angst, fluff

Lost Love

“I need her, Remus…” Sirius mumbled as he looked through the old photo albums in Grimmauld Place. Seeing your photos together from Hogwarts years were painful enough but the one album from your engagement was unbearable for him. He finished up his wine and stared at Remus with teary eyes. “Can we find her?”

“You know you cannot leave the house, Padfoot. But I will try my best, I will ask some people and we will see if someone knows anything about Y/N.” Remus patted his best friend’s shoulder reassuringly.

13 years ago from now on, everything was way different how it was now. Sirius and you, high school sweethearts have engaged and thrown a small party with close friends and family members. It was exactly how you have imagined it; coastal theme party by the beach in spring. The freshly bloomed flowers’ and the salty sea’s scents were mixed together and created the most peaceful vibe with the sounds of the waves and the happy songs of the birds.

After the engagement, the couple bought a small house in Cornwall by the sea and completed your small family with a Cocker Spaniel puppy. Everything was going so good for you two even a war was on its way. You have not joined the Order of the Phoenix due to your parents’ jobs in Ministry of Magic, you didn’t want to draw any more attention to them since this upcoming war was causing enough stress and danger for them. Sirius was on the other hand; he has joined the Order and fully working to save the wizarding world. James and Lily Potter has become the main targets of You-Know-Who after they had their baby boy Harry. This had a tool on both Sirius and you since they were your best friends and you two were Harry’s godparents, you must have saved them all from the war and You-Know-Who.

But things have gone downhill terribly on October 31. You and Sirius have attended a Halloween party and you were having fun, relieving stress. Sirius has left to renew your drinks while you were dancing with your friends but he has never came back. You have waited for 15 minutes but getting drinks shouldn’t have been that hard so you started to look around for him but he was nowhere to be seen. You were annoyed but decided to wait little bit more; maybe he felt sick and he was throwing up in the loo, you thought. It has been 20 more minutes and Sirius was still lost, you couldn’t believe the fact that he literally left you here without saying anything. You were extremely annoyed with him and excused yourself then went to your shared home, hoping he would be there. Even at home, there was no signs of Sirius. You had no idea what happened or if you accidently hurt him in some way but nothing came to your mind. You waited him until you have fallen asleep on the sofa by the fireplace. In the morning you woke up to loud knocks on your house’s door, you jumped up from where you were sleeping and ran to the door.

“Sirius!?” Your expression quickly changed when you noticed it wasn’t Sirius but 2 formal dressed men.

“Miss Y/L/N?” one of them asked.

You just nodded while an eerie feeling started to grow in you, you could tell something was wrong by their faces. Did something happen to Sirius? You thought to yourself but afraid to ask and hear their answer. But you didn’t have to wait for any longer because they started to talk after making sure they found the right person.

“We are sent by the Minister of Magic to inform you about Lily and James Potter’ and Peter Pettigrew’s murders.”

“What…?” This was the only word you could say, you felt a coldness run through your body. Before you could collect yourself from the information you just heard, the other man continued.

“Sirius Black is sent to Azkaban for murdering Peter Pettigrew and 12 muggles.”

You collapsed on the ground; you didn’t hear anything they said anymore. Everything was blurry, you thought you were having a nightmare but feeling of the cold wind and rain on your skin were real enough. You didn’t know how long you stayed on the ground or when the men left. The thoughts were running through your mind like crazy, you couldn’t think of a reason why Sirius would kill one of his best friends, Peter yet alone 12 muggles. Everything was normal yesterday, you have had a calm day then gone to the party that your friend threw to celebrate Halloween. Even in the party Sirius seemed normal until suddenly he got lost. You had no idea what has gotten into Sirius after that, how could Sirius kill someone; you couldn’t wrap your head around that at all.

It has been one week since you found about the incidents and it was the worst week of your whole life. You have given a decision; you gave Rocky, your dog to your parents and said your farewells to them before abandoning everything. You couldn’t live in your shared house anymore, every bit of it reminded you of Sirius, beside that the country started to suffocate you as well; everyday you were hearing or seeing news about your fiancé and people were talking shit about him nonstop. Even some people who knew your relationship with him were attacking you with their bloody words. You couldn’t take it anymore and moved to a small island in Turkey. You didn’t know anyone here, you didn’t know the language, it would be a total isolation for you and that was what you wanted and needed. After a while you got used to the country and started your own job there. You were a decent artist and you started to sell your artwork in the island, the tourists were very interested in them and you made enough money to live. You have bought a small cottage and a bird to company you, time has started to heal you slowly but steadily.

You were working on a sculpture while listening to slow music, this was your new hobby for a while now. Your peaceful night cut by a loud knock on your door, unexpected knocks became one of your phobias since the incident. Every time you felt the same cold feeling run through your body at the sound of it, you slowly stood up from your chair and walked to the door. It was almost midnight and you weren’t expecting anyone at all, also it was February so the island was nearly empty. You had no idea who this person could be and you must admitted to yourself, you were scared. You held your wand tightly behind you and crack opened the wooden door. It was dark outside and you couldn’t see the person’s face at all.

“Who is this?” you asked sternly.

“Y/N? Is that you…?” the man questioned softly.

Your eyes widened when you heard the voice, how could you forget your best friend’s voice even after all these years. “Remus!?”

You pushed the door open, and soon you and Remus were hugging longingly. You invited him in since it was cold outside, now you were sitting on the small sofa on your living room.

“How did you find me?” you were wondering that from the very beginning.

“Let’s say I have my sources.” Remus chuckled looking at you. “It has been a long time but you look great Y/N.”

“Thank you Moony, same goes for you too.”

“You are just being kind.” Remus smiled but his expression got serious in the next second. “Y/N, you should come back to London with me.”

“Di- did something happen to my parents…? Is this why you came here that late?”

“No no, it is not like that. But this is important too.”

“Remus can you please tell me what’s going on!?”

Remus sighed and looked into your eyes. “I cannot tell you, it might be dangerous but you must come. Even for a day, if you don’t want to stay you can come back here. But please, you will regret if you don’t come with me.”

You were confused, you had no idea about what’s going on and Remus wasn’t a good help neither. It has been 12 years and no one ever came to find you and now middle of the night Remus was here all of a sudden and wanted you to go back to London with him.

“I don’t know Remus, don’t you think this is a little bit weird?”

“It is, I am aware of that but try to understand me. I wouldn’t be coming all the way to Turkey middle of the night, if this is not very important. Please, I beg you Y/N.”

You thought for a while, Remus seemed genuine with his words even you still weren’t sure about the whole situation but you accepted it. After you said you accepted, Remus immediately walked you out to use the portkey. You didn’t have any time to get prepared; you were in your pyjamas at your home and seconds later you were in a dark corner in London with Remus. You shivered as the cold England weather hit you, Remus was walking you to a street soon you two were standing in front of the Grimmauld Place. You knew this house very well but you had no idea why Remus brought you here. Before you could ask anything, he rushed you to the house. You little bit relaxed at the warmness of the house but yet again you were pulled by the hand and Remus walked you to the living room.

“Here you go! I am leaving you alone, thank me later!” Remus grinned and walked out of the house.

You froze in your place when your eyes met with the curly haired man who was standing in the opposite side of the room. He wasn’t any different than you, he couldn’t move or couldn’t talk, just stayed there with teary eyes and looked at you. You weren’t sure if you were dreaming or this is really happening right now. You have thought you would never see Sirius ever again in your life but there he was or was he?

“Y/N, my love…” Sirius ran to you after his shock washed off. He pulled you in a tight hug when you started to sob uncontrollably. You held onto him so tightly that your knuckles turned into white. You and Sirius stayed like this for a while and cried your eyes out. Your whole body was shaking because of the extreme emotions you were going through right now, Sirius made you sit on the nearest sofa and sat beside you, still holding you tightly. Sometime later you felt little bit better and for the first time in 12 years you looked into his silver eyes. Now they had wrinkles around them and weren’t shining with the mischievousness as they did before but they still had the love in them that he held for you. You cupped his cheeks lovingly.

“Are you real? “ You whispered.

“I am very much real, darling. Want me to pinch you?” Sirius let out a chuckle, his thumb was drawing circles on your knee.

“Sirius...” You sighed his name before pressing your lips into his, he immediately returned the kiss. The kiss was full of little bit of everything; longing, love, excitement, lust…

You pulled away breathless, apparently you two needed some practice about it. The sheepish smile on your face made Sirius laugh as he pulled you into his embrace once more. You looked up at him grinning.

“Remember you owe me a drink, literally for 12 years. Now bring couple of wine bottles here, we have so many things to talk about my beloved fiancé!”

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no-mercy-bby · 4 years

Text

First of all, please do not look at me or perceive me at all. My brain go brrr

Ralph Bohner(Peter Maximoff) x Reader

Inspired by my brain and:

[Very light yandere themes, you are being held in the mancave against your will, light(?) Stockholm syndrome]

It's honestly really fluffy also kissing/making out but it doesn't get worse than that.

You Can't Run Away

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"Don't waste your breath, babe!" The man calls out to you from the couch ss he strums idly on his guitar," No one can hear you from in here."

You quickly turn around, the door opened enough just to tease you and capture your attention. After the short dramatic strum of the man's guitar, you run for the exit only to see the man leaning against the now shut door.

"You can't run away, pretty. You'll start ruining everything that's in place and she can't have that." He explains as if you were a child before nodding towards the couch. "Go sit."

"No." You shake your head, glaring at him, which in return made him smirk at you.

Within a spilt second you were rather delicately set on the middle cushion of the couch as the man is now across the room, blending up a milkshake. (Pretty sure I read an article that said that)

"How did you do that?" You question quickly, confused, but a little intrigued by him.

"I'm pretty good at running." He chuckles, tossing you a dimpled grin from over his shoulder.

You unintentionally smile back before glancing to the mess of papers stacked on the table to thd side. Shuffling through them, you eventually come across what looked to be a headshot. It looked like the man across the room, only maybe a few years younger, with his hair looking to be natural brunette.

But the name was what threw you off.

"Is your name really Ralph Boner?" You question while trying not to laugh, it wasn't even that funny.

The man however proceeds to practically giggle out loud as he now browses his movie collection.

"Heh, boner."

"So, you're not Ralph then?"

"Pfft no way, babe." He grins at you once again, but instead of you smiling back you simply stare at him confused.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" He asks while speeding to sit beside you, his arm immediately wrapping around your shoulders, and tucking you against his side.

"Something isn't right out there." You mumble as you glance past him out the small basement window, seeing the sky gradually turn more shades of scarlet.

"Of course, that's why you're in here, with me." Not-Ralph replies simply, tossing away the headshot from your hand before leaning into kiss you.

You freeze as his other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer to him, so now you were almost sideways across his lap.

His soft lips brushed against yours, making you quickly move yours away from his.

"You basically kidnapped me." You state quietly, meeting his eyes, and try not to stare at his lips as he bit at them.

"A perk of the job." Not-Ralph smirks as you try not to smile while rolling your eyes. He quite literally sweeped you off feet in more ways than just the literal sense. How was he so charming? Why did this feel so right?

"I don't even know you..." You whisper as a pathetic excuse, while trying (and failing) to avoid his puppy dog eyes.

"Well, we can get to know each other..." He whispers before capturing your lips with his own in an unexpectedly passionate kiss.

You hesitate for a second before returning the kiss, tangling your fingers into the hair at the base of his neck, tugging lightly and making not-Ralph moan into your mouth.

You feel heat quickly rise up to your face as you break the intense kiss, laughing quietly as not-Ralph's lips search out for yours. You press your hand against his lips before they can connect to yours again.

As he eyes peek open he immediately grins at your flustered state. His eyes slowly wander from your face down your body.

"Nice outfit change." He winks, only flustering you further as you glance down to see what you were wearing. A tank top and skinny jeans, wait weren't you just wearing something completely different? How did that happen?

Glancing back up at not-Ralph, you notice his own outfit change.

"I could say the same about you." You smile, brushing your hand across the shiny silver of his jacket. His whole previous outfit was completely replaced, topped off with goggles instead of a Smurf-like beanie.

But the necklace was what threw you off.

It was still the same and didn't change. You reached up to touch it, but quickly draw you hand back as you feel a sort of sting against your fingertips.

"How come your necklace didn't change, Peter?" You ask him, preoccupied with staring at the necklace to notice what you said. It felt almost as if the necklace was telling you to touch it- to take it from not-Ralph.

"What did you just call me?" The sharp edge to his voice makes you meet his eyes.

"...Ralph?.."

"Nooo, you said as different name. What was it?" He asks you almost desperately, grasping your wrists quickly in a tight grip as you try to touch his necklace again.

"Why does it matter?" You huff, trying to pull your wrists from him," Let me go."

"Nuh-uh, not till you tell me my name." He persists, making you glare at him as you snatch your wrists from his grip before trying to run out the door.

Peter easily catches you with an arm around your hips and tugs your back against his chest, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"You can't run away," He whispers in your ear then starts kissing at your neck.

It felt ...familiar?

"Peter..." You sigh, remembering that very specific memory, before spinning around and facing him. "Its that necklace. Its hurting you."

Peter nods his head, oddly silent, watching you intently.

Agatha said Fietro was her eyes and ears for Wanda, but he could still control most of his actions.

"I don't know..." You shrug, not knowing what to do to get this necklace off of him. But if you listened to it's call and put it on, surely Peter could get it off you?

Trying to think only about wearing it, you reach out to the necklace again, and it quite literally falls into your hands.

Peter gasps in shock as he's freed from Agatha's necklace only to recognize you were about to put it on yourself and give Agatha your power instead.

Frantically Peter smacks it out of your hands and sends it flying through the air before picking you up and speeding the both of you outside.

You lean your head heavily against Peter's shoulder and when Peter looks down he sees you had fallen asleep or most likely passed out from all the dizzying sensations of Agatha's magic. As well as, speeding with you from the first time.

"James E. Wo-" Jimmy's eyes widen as he looks at his witness and the girl curled up in Peter's arms.

"Yeah, yeah, Jimmy. I was just about to go searching for you." Peter smiles half heartedly, glancing down at you in his arms, sound asleep.

"Who is she?" Jimmy asks curiously with a nod at your form.

"Mutant, I know her, well used to. Apparently Wanda isn't the only one breaking through the multiverse." Peter explains quietly to Jimmy.

"You mean she can create portals to other wor-"

"-she needs to be in witness protection with me, Jimmy." Peter cuts him off quickly.

You had risked so much to break through the multiverses strict hold, and all for what?

Him?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A cliffhanger for you😘 please let me know what you think!! I love you and good night/afternoon/morning💕

PART 2 :)

#peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff #wandavision #ralph bohner #ralph bohner x reader #i wrote da

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themousefromfantasyland · 3 years

Text

Hey let's talk about queer coding, Disney villains and why this whole conversation always makes me mad.

Coding is when an author implies a character to be from a certain socio-cultural background without actually saying it out loud. The examples that come to mind are JK Rowling writing Remus Lupin's lycantrophy as a metaphor from AIDS and Frozen 2 using the Northuldra's conflict with Arendelle as metaphor for colonization and cultural genocide.

Queer Coding is when certain work of fiction implies that one of the characters is part of the LGBTQ community, but without confirming in canon.

A pretty common criticism against Disney, is that, supposedly, "ALL" villainous characters from the classics were secretly queer coded, hitting at some kind of secret homophobic agenda. I'm not here to defend Disney, it's just that the logic behind some these arguments and analysis is so bad and flawed that makes me cringe.

First, coding needs authorial intent. The author writes a character in way that is meant to make the audience draw a connection between them and a real-life group. The ability of the audience to see a real-life group in that character is essential to convey the message the author is trying to tell. If there isn't authorial intent, we are left only with the audience's headcanon.

Don't get me wrong, to me all interpretations of a fictional work are valid, but an author isn't responsible for interpretations that fall outside his intent, for good and for bad.

An author cannot take credit, for example, for accidentally writting character that certain minority group took a liking to. Let's say that this character is heroic and the audience felt sympathetic to their struggle. Their interpretation is valid, but if the writer takes credit for that, it will be just shameless opportunism, since it was never their true intention. Sometimes the blue curtain is just a blue curtain.

So, it's okay for queer people to relate to Disney villains. A lot of people in general do relate to them better than to the protagonists. But it's in the audience, not in the author. Disney cannot take credit for that, nor can it take for any other character. Disney cannot take credit for Luca x Alberto and Raya x Namaari even if they wanted to.

Just to add another example, JK Rowling writing Lupin as metaphor for people struggling with AIDS is probably the most problematic coding that I ever saw. Werewolves are actually highly dangerous in canon, Lupin was infected as a child by someone who really wanted to infected him and most of the werewolves side with Voldemort in the Second Wizarding War. She is totally responsible for these interpretations since she is the one who invited her readers to draw the connection in the first place.

And this is not to say that there isn't queer coding in the villains of Disney canon. Ratigan from The Great Mouse Detective and Governor Ratcliffe from Pocahontas are both written as two very effeminate male characters, specially if compared to the rest of the cast. Ursula from the Little Mermaid was literally inspired by a drag queen, Divine.

But the standards used in some of these analyses are so vague, so broad, so arbitrary, that you are excused in thinking that all over-the-top, comical villains are automatically gay.

Hades spends the whole film touching Meg, hugging her, comically flirting with her, and somehow he's the gay best friend. His whole personality is heavily influenced by James Woods, a super conservative republican christian, who changed the character from the originally planned Jack Nicholson type to satanic car seller, but he's totally gay right?He did a lot of ad-libbing in his recordings, especially in Hades' dialogues with Meg. If you ask me Hades is totally coded more as an abusive boss or smooth-talking pimp than anything else.

Gaston was described by his animator as a "grotesque prince charming". He's a brutal caricature of the super macho types, a mockery of the cishet frat bro, but he's still often included in the list of queer Disney villains.

I once saw an article that claimed Lady Tremaine was a "men-hating lesbian" and I was left as... Did we watch the same movie?

Jokes aside, if it's to include Disney characters under the rainbow umbrella using every arbitrary trait or popular headcanons, Disney is full of queer characters, both villains and heroes.

Bashful, Flower, White Rabbit, Mad Hatter, March Hare, Cheshire Cat, Alice, Ariel, Sebastian, Beast, Cogsworth, Genie, Hermes, Clopin, Victor, Hugo, Laverne, Mushu, Mulan, Li Shang, Timon, Pumbaa, Kuzco, Pleakley, Jumba Jookiba, Merida, Edna Mode, Go Go Tomago, Elsa, Honeymaren, Oaken, Raya, Namaari, Luca, Alberto. Cross-dressers, outcasts, sassy bachelors, badass spinsters, sensitive men, fierce tomboys. There are already enough people to start a gay-straigh alliance in the Magic Kingdom.

#disney #disney villains #queer coding

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kashimos-hajime · 4 years

Text

dear... whoever | b.b.

summary: a mandated series of long and short diary entries from the new head of R&D for Stark Industries.

WARNINGS: swearing, LOTS of fluff, mentions of drinking and sex and hospitals and guns, general fun and witty attitude, small angst, big jealousy, obviously au after civil war. everything after does not exist. pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 9.5k

a/n: written for @softbiker and 100% inspired by @sunmoonandbucky with the format. my prompt was let me love you by rita ora and i wrote it from the perspective the singer is singing it to rather than the actual singer. this was super fun to write. enjoy!

July 31/20

Dear…

Whoever is going to read this. So… me, in the future probably. So, it should be dear WHOMever, I think, but it sounds wrong.

Is it too cliché to say dear diary? I don’t know. After all, I don’t WANT to be writing this but unfortunately I am because it’s mandated. Apparently, the psychiatrist that works for Stark Industries thinks it’s necessary that I write down my feelings and show that I’ve adjusted to working part-time superhero, full-time head of Tony’s stupid R&D department.

Something about how that much stress can cause psychotic fractures in the worst case scenario.

Cute.

Anyway, I don’t know what to write. Currently, it’s 4:23AM. The only reason I’m awake is because I have trouble sleeping on the best night. I heard Barnes messing about and because I am the Hermit of the Rec Room Couch (catchy, I know), I can hear him just walking about.

What the hell is he even doing?

To be honest, I’ve never talked to Barnes besides the occasional greetings because he’s the sort to keep to himself, I guess, and, valid. I’m not saying it’s not, considering his history, but you know.

I think I’m a friendly person, and I’m bored. He’s eventually going to hear me writing noisily because of super-soldier hearing or whatever, so I might just get up and introduce myself.

Not that I’ve been working here for years, but whatever.

I’m really bored and hungry, honestly, so a trip to the kitchen would be considered normal (and warranted) in such circumstances.

Fuck it.

Time to make a new friend or die trying. If you never hear from me again, you’ll know why.

Aug. 1/20

Dear Jane,

I finally got the time to write in here and you may be wondering why I have named you. Well, after the conversation at roughly 4:30 AM, here are things that’ve changed in a disorganized list. None is more important than the other. I'm just writing what comes to my head.

One: Barnes said he doesn’t really let anyone call him James. I called him James once because I forgot. Profuse apologies followed. He said it was okay and didn’t mind me calling him that. Now, in my mind, I think he’s just saying this to be polite and really just wants me to call him Bucky but he seemed sincere. We’ll see how it goes.

Two: Barnes was awake because his cat woke him up. I didn’t even know he had a cat but it’s a gorgeous white cat named Alpine that Barnes carries around in his half-zipped up hoodies sometimes. It’s adorable. He’s super soft and friendly and I love him already. He showed me all the tricks Alpine could do. Amazing.

Three: Barnes’ favourite movie is the Godfather. Totally surprising there. Please tell me you understand sarcasm.

Four: He said he liked the name Jane when I told him what I was doing up and also in the rec room (couldn’t sleep, writing in my diary) and that I didn’t want to say “Dear diary”

“Why don’t you just give it a name?” he eloquently suggested and Jane was his answer to my question of “Which name?”

Five: Barnes, or James, I guess he is now, is my friend.

Six: We said we’d meet up at 4:30AM or earlier again because I told him I wanted to show him my s’mores dip recipe.

Seven: Wish me luck. Hope I don’t get murdered.

Eight: I think I might be in love with him.

Bye.

Aug. 5/20

Dear Jane,

In an effort to summarize what has happened in the past four days, I will open with the fact that James Buchana Barnes is the cutest motherfucker on the planet. He’s super old fashioned, but that’s a given. He opens the doors for me, offers to take my bags up, and in the past four days, we’ve met up at around midnight to just eat and chat. Then he walks me back to my room with a glass of water and I’m left fanning myself because it’s so sweet and he’s so sweet and OH, MY GOD, I am a child.

This feels like a crush. Like, butterflies in my stomach, self-conscious every time he looks at me, can’t stop staring, and wanting to impress him at every turn sort of crush.

AKA, a middle-school crush and I feel completely ridiculous but that is besides the point because he’s just the loveliest person.

Someone should tell him chivalry is dead. Steve thinks he’s just being sweet on me, and Sam says I should flash some ass just to get a rise out of him which would be funny. He’d look absolutely adorable blushing his head off.

We’ll see. I am considering it.

What else happened? I’m drawing a huge blank.

As explained in a previous entry, I was to show Barnes my s’mores dip recipe. Huge success. Crowd loved it. That’s how I learned he has a huge sweet tooth like me. Got an email from Pep about a board meeting which I ignored. If it’s really important, she’ll see me in person. Went swimming with Sam. We started planning Tony’s big Christmas party even though that’s MONTHS away.

But, you know. We’re so busy all the time, it might be worth it planning ahead.

As head of R&D, it’s vital to me that this goes well because they’re fun when they do go well, and a chaotic disaster when they don’t. Also, I have to find a date but details will follow.

I think that’s it.

If there’s more to follow, then I’ll just come back but there really isn’t.

Oh, Alpine found my room. He’s in here right now and he snores. It’s cute, just like his owner.

Okay, goodnight.

Aug. 7/20

Dear Jane,

Sam, James, and I went swimming.

Pro of the day: James is ripped and that man was GLISTENING.

Con of the day: I AM STUPID in front of hot ripped men.

Pro of the day: We got ice cream together. Strawberry for me, mango for James because he wants to try new flavours, and Sam ordered some monstrosity with vanilla ice cream, chocolate and raspberry syrups, and a bunch of banana slices. A swirl of whipped cream to finish it off. It looked like diabetes in a cup and that’s coming from me.

Con of the day: James used his thumb to wipe the ice cream off my lip and my brain short-circuited. Sam teased us about it, but James very stubbornly and convincingly said we’re just friends.

Con of the day x2: We are just friends and that is NOT going to change. I cannot explain how much my heart literally fell out of my body in disappointment.

God, and James and I are meeting up at 2AM tonight so he can show me this new stupid stuffed celerey recipe he learned.

It’s not stupid.

It’s really, REALLY cute he researched it.

This sucks.

Aug. 11/20

The worst day ever. I don’t want to talk about it but might as well make a note on it. More on it later, I guess.

Aug. 15/20

Dear Jane,

Sorry, I’m dramatic. Must get it from working with Tony for so many years.

Let’s just review what occurred on August 11, 2020, at approximately 3:23 in the afternoon.

I learned that James went out on a date. A DATE. From SAM. When James had ample opportunity to tell me at our regular meeting at witching hour over celery sticks.

EXCUSE ME? WHO IS THIS WOMAN?

I’m not even mad. I’m just angry that the man I became friends with only 2 weeks ago and caught feelings immediately for is seeing other people.

I sound like a raging bitch. I promise you, Jane, that I am not. I’m just the insanely jealous type.

No, I’m not.

God, what is happening to me and why does it have to be James.

I never get crushes and the instant I do, it’s for the most emotionally and physically unavailable person ON EARTH.

Also, work was work. I was distracted, drank soup from the canteen, and generally accomplished nothing. Alpine came for some snuggles while James was out. That’s the only good thing.

Thanks, universe.

Aug. 16/20

Dear Jane,

So, I brought up this mystery lady over homemade sundaes.

James seems pretty serious about her because he a) apologized for not telling because he wanted to keep it private and asked me not to tell anyone and b) has a second date with her later today.

Oh, GOD. There is no point to this.

Aug. 19/20

Dear Jane,

What’s the point of asking someone intimate, personal questions if not because you guys are best friends?

James called me his best friend today. He says he knows me, but if he did, he’d know I feel like throwing up whenever he’s around and that his stare burns through every layer of clothing until I feel like he just knows my secret.

I told him we’ve known each other less than a month, but he said something stupidly charming about “intuition” and feeling and that this feels right and how he knows he can tell me anything and that I was an easy person to talk to.

I should’ve been a shrink.

At least, my trip to Wakanda is going to give me distance. A solid two months of no one else but me, tech, and new faces. Going there to collaborate with Shuri is definitely exciting and taking up more space in my brain than James these days.

Maybe I’ll fall in love with some soldier over there because apparently, I’m catching feelings willy-nilly these days.

See you on the plane, Jane.

Aug. 23/20

Dear Jane,

On the quinjet, it’s fairly quiet. It’s one of the things I love about it. The silent yet soft engines that can lull me to sleep. We should be arriving in a few hours so I thought I’d write. I’m getting the hang of this, I think.

There's a press conference later, too, in the trip with the UN and it’s not that I can’t handle it, but that I could’ve done this in my sleep and wished Tony sent someone else. I hate the press, not gonna lie.

Anyway, this gives me time to be introspective.

Is it just me or James always Okay, is it just my imagination that whenever I try to get close to James, he just kinda pulls away? Not in a romantic way. I’m not stealing anyone’s man because girl code, but he won’t even let me just stand near him anymore. It’s like I have an infectious disease only transmitted through physical contact and it’s just weird.

I don’t know.

Before I left, he said he’d miss me and that we should keep in touch through calls (Obviously, I would) and that he hopes I won’t forget him.

So, you say those things but you won’t even let me even hug you?

You’re a manipulative asshole, Barnes.

Oct. 20/20

Dear Jane,

I am so sorry that it has taken so long for us to reunite.

In hindsight, I’m a fucking idiot.

I left you on the quinjet which went back to New York and a different quinjet came to pick me up. I came back like two days ago so these past few days have been spent searching for you.

James offered to help, and he seems normal again.

Weird. Guess he was just in a mood with the new girlfriend and adjusting to having me as a friend, too. Guys go through that, I guess.

In Wakanda, I did not, in fact, fall in love with a soldier or anything. I curse every day that I didn’t, trust me. I’m just as disappointed as you are because I just want to get over this stupid crush. For the two months I was gone, it was like I didn’t like James at all like that. Even during calls, I could pretend we were just two teammates keeping each other in the loop. He talked about his girlfriend, I listened, I explained science because he’s a nerd, and he asked questions like he was interested.

It was FINE.

Then, he was waiting for me when I came back to NYC and it slammed into me like Bruce in Hulk-mode.

James asked if I wanted to meet his girlfriend because she’d be coming around for the Halloween party anyway, and he thinks we’ll get along swimmingly.

He really said swimmingly. He is stuck in the wrong era, but we all knew that.

I said yes, to be polite.

Here’s to hoping she’s a vindictive bitch and I am justified in hating her entire being.

Oct. 22/20

Dear Jane,

I met her. She’s small and pretty and mature and normal.

If I wasn’t stupidly in my feelings about James, I’d love her, too.

She’d treat him right, give him a good home to come back to.

Best not to notice the people fighting beside you in that way, I guess.

Oct. 25/20

Dear Jane,

God is dead and NO ONE has eyes on the road.

Jesus isn’t even taking the wheel on this one.

It’s a fucking disaster.

I do not want to describe in every little detail the intricacies of dreaming about James Buchanan Barnes fucking my brains out, so I won’t, but this is for the record that it happened and how the fuck am I supposed to come back and see him in his probably gorgeous attempt at his recreation of Brendan Fraser from the Mummy AKA my favourite movie (which HE KNOWS THAT IT IS?? GOD, the audacity.)

Girlfriend (his girlfriend. “Girlfriend” is the name which she shall be henceforth known as in these entries because petty wins are all I have right now) is dressing as Rachel Weisz. Because “couples goals” or whatever.

I wouldn’t know. Sam and I are dressed up as sexy salt and pepper shakers (his idea, not mine) and he made me take the salt stick because I think he knows. Steve’s not dressing up because he’s more focused on handing out candy as Captain America.

Tony is… Tony. Iron Man and all that.

Anyway, I’m out of town in DC for a meeting with the Secretary of State for a few days, but I’ll be back in New York on the 30th so I’ll have a few hours to adjust to being around James again before he dons on that outfit that I know will be totally hot.

He called me his best friend again in his latest email.

Made me smile like an idiot, but I digress.

Nov. 1/20

Dear Jane,

Halloween was killer. Sam and I won best duo for costumes because we’re that good. Ate a lot of candy and it seems to be looking up.

I dunno. I didn’t mind James and Girlfriend on the couch that much in the after-party. Mostly stuck by Nat and Sharon and Tony. An ood trio, but a fun one nonetheless.

It was fun, but I still have to go to work no matter how many jello shots and vodka gummy bears consumed.

Wish me luck, not that I need it.

Why do you think Tony hired me?

Nov. 4/20

Dear Jane.

Natasha said I smile at James in a way that utterly betrays every emotion I want to hide in my chest.

Note to self: Don’t smile at James, or at his jokes, or at anything he ever does again. Avoid him. Put a stopper on this friendship.

Note to note to self: I can’t. He just makes me smile whenever he’s around and he’s always around. There’s no simpler way to put it.

I’m gonna try this hiatus thing, though. Distance myself a bit. We’ll see how it goes.

Nov. 13/20

Dear Jane,

Day nine of this hiatus business and it sucks. I miss my best friend.

We’re scheduled for a mission together, and we’re leaving tomorrow so I was going to have to talk to him during the briefing and the op either way.

Well, glad to know this didn’t work.

Nov. 15/20

Dear Jane,

Guess who just got fucking shot!

ME!

Guess even scumbags can’t take a holiday because some stupid arms dealer got a cheap shot on me while I was downloading their whole computer system and other tech mumbo-jumbo I am too high to write about.

James left a few hours ago with the rest of the team, but not before he got me a bunch of ice chips and said he was worried and that he hopes I get better soon. He even promised to get me some flowers to spruce up the room and to say my HEART went CRAZY is an understatement.

He came to my rescue, essentially, as soon as he heard I got pinned. He carried me to the quinjet the instant he cleared the area and stayed by my side the whole time even though the bleeding stopped and I was in good hands. He was just so protective, barking at doctors and nurses. It was embarrassing but also really, really sweet.

Is it weird of me to say that I want him to stay by my side forever?

I’ve never fallen in love before.

Is it always this fast and this hard? I feel like I’m crashing instead of gently and wonderfully falling. Everything is dumb and awful.

Is this what love is like? Because it hurts worse than getting shot because I think I’m going to vomit flowers or butterflies or something.

God, he’d never love me. We’re just friends and even though we have a lot in common, he’d never. It’s just too much of the past in the present or whatever.

Also, he has a girlfriend but it seems very surface-level. God, that makes me sound like a “one of the boys” type of girl who’s a bitch to one of the boy’s new girlfriends, but I don’t know. James told me they don’t really talk about the deep stuff like we do. But she makes him happy, I think.

In hindsight, one may ask what the deep stuff is.

More on that later. I’m tired.

God, why him?

I HATE THIS.

goodnight.

Nov. 16/20

Dear Jane,

James visited again today. He sat beside me and we talked until the nurses had to kick him out. He also brought the flowers.

I asked about Girlfriend casually. I said I liked her.

He said he did, too.

I don’t know why I think he’s lying. No, I do.

It’s because jealousy is the green-eyed bitch from highschool who still shows up in my life because she thinks she’s relevant to society.

That was mean. Unrequited love makes you mean. Side effect noted.

P.S. The deep stuff includes his past, his arm, his memory, his favourite colour. I dunno why that matters. It just does.

Nov. 17/20

Dear Jane,

Got out of the hospital today because of advanced technology and all that. Nothing’s left but a scar and residual soreness. James helped me to my room and said to call him if I had a problem.

I joked that he has a girlfriend and for some reason, he got really weird about it. It’s hard to describe. I dunno. Nat dropped by for popcorn and movies.

It’s 2:32AM. I’m wondering if he’s in the kitchen but I’m confined to bed rest so I don’t know. Also, Nat is asleep beside me and I don’t want to bother her.

Hopefully I can get up and move in a few days. Life is boring.

Nov. 24/20

Dear Jane,

Sorry we haven’t caught up in a moment. Work’s been hectic and I’ve been working overtime trying to make ends meet. Most days I’m in the office or lab, just trying to get enough things done so I can take time off come Christmas.

James stopped by tonight with Chinese takeout and some sweet buns.

He broke up with his girlfriend, too.

Guess that’s why he was being weird about it.

I tried being as casual as I could asking why, but he didn’t want to talk about it, so I asked why he came by. Couldn’t be for the company because when I’m in work mode, I just don’t talk and he knows that.

He said something about his arm feeling funny so I gave it a quick diagnostics check.

I think both of us knew his arm was feeling fine.

Everything is stupid, life is meaningless, and James’ lips are the prettiest shade of pink in the ugly lights of the lab.

I would very much like to have kissed him, but I didn’t.

Girl code.

It’ll probably be a while before I get another chance to actually have time and energy to write another diary entry. Christmas season’s coming close and Pepper is gonna need help with the party.

Yay, me.

Dec. 4/20

Dear Jane,

Morgan asked me in less eloquent words if I had a boyfriend (it was more like “You boyfriend?” But whatever. Who even taught her that word?) and I swear to GOD Nat could not make it anymore obvious looking at James.

Remind me to absolutely throttle her. I don’t care if she’s the infamous Black Widow. She has clearly never seen me hopped up on nothing but a negative amount of sleep and rage/embarrassment/spite/all of the above.

On another note, Pep asked if I was bringing a plus one for the party. I said I’d think about it. Normally I’d just take Sam but he has his eyes on someone at the VA and I like my friends getting laid so no go there.

Might just go alone. I don’t know.

Pep said I should take James, but I don’t really think she knows the truth about that situation. Luckily, Tony instantly rejected the idea and said he’d find me a date if I couldn’t.

Thank the universe for at least placing me in the close circle of the most well-known and richest man in the world because he also gave me his card and said go wild.

He knows me so well. I’m thinking about Christmas shopping when I have another free day, and I’ll pay for that with my own money, of course, but clothes shopping is a free market.

I cannot wait.

Dec. 12/20

Dear Jane,

I wish I could show you my haul, but I got so much stuff Happy had to drive to help me. Besides obvious gifts, I also managed to snag a gorgeous dress for the party.

Thoughts on black and gold?

I think it’s beautiful. Hopefully Nat and Sharon think so. We’re having a girls night tonight and showing off outfits, so that’s exciting.

James asked if we could meet up tonight.

I told him I had plans and he looked so downcast.

I dunno. Everything feels weird between us. Like we’re fine, we’re best friends still, but something’s changed when no one was looking. He’s single now. I guess that energy is different because I had gotten used to his energy with ex-Girlfriend.

I don’t exactly mind but it’s not ideal either. I miss summer. It’s much less complicated than winter. Winter, one has to worry about wind and chills and snows blocking roads, black ice, dry skin, freezing fingers.

Summer: there’s just a lot of sun, wind, bugs, and the vaguest notion of being bored.

Look, I love winter. It’s my favourite season. It’s quiet and gorgeous and dreamy, even though it gets dreary in New York. The snow falls slowly sometimes, Christmas is gorgeous here, and I’d rather be cold than sweating buckets, and there are no bugs to bother me. Also, it gives me a good reason to stay in the labs or in my room where it’s warm and toasty.

I just miss the relative simplicity when James and I were just strangers on the edge of being friends, which is, in retrospect, a selfish reason to like one season and hate another.

Well, some philosopher somewhere probably said something about humanity being selfish.

Dec. 16/20

Dear Jane,

T-minus nine days until the party.

No date in sight.

Maybe I’ll ask Anderson from HR. We had coffee together a few times and he’s nice. Good catch: smart, not too bad looking, and really nice. I’ll head down tomorrow and ask.

Alpine had purred when I told him my plan and headbutted my hand, so I guess I got the Alpine-Seal-of-Approval.

Dec. 17/20

Dear Jane,

Operation: Ask Anderson from HR to Tony’s Christmas Party failed. Granted, it could’ve been because that was a god awful title and that that name, in itself, prophesied catastrophic failure, but also because I was accosted by my best friend.

I wish I meant Sam.

Nope. James caught me in the elevator and we made small talk. Sounds fine, right? Then we turned the topic to the party. Talked about clothes and prospective celebrity appearances and drinks and food. Just about everything, so might as well turn to talks about dates, which meant I had to explain why I was in the elevator in the first place.

Going down to ask Anderson ended in James revealing that he didn’t have a date either.

He doesn’t know who Anderson is, which I thought would be the case, and he popped the question before the doors opened.

Notice how I said “didn't” have a date.

Guess who’s going to the party with James, clearly stated as friends, platonic soulmates, etc.?

Me.

Yippee.

Dec. 18/20

Dear Jane,

It’s 3:42AM and I’m in the rec room as usual. I was gonna not write here today but it normally helps me sleep to just write a bit, get what little thoughts are in my head out. Yeah.

I hear James in the kitchen talking to Alpine and it’s making me smile like an idiot.

Oh, shit, he knows I’m in here. He’s making milkshakes.

I am morally obligated by best friend duties to join him.

Goodnight, Jane.

Dec. 24/20

Dear Jane,

I’m not sleeping with James Buchanan Barnes tomorrow night.

This is a resolute promise. An early New Year’s resolution.

Dec. 25/20

Dear Jane,

Merry Christmas!

In between jovial festivities, I’ve finally found a little nook that’s quiet enough to write in. We opened presents, had a big family breakfast, went skating and just lounged around, and frankly, I’m exhausted. Need to recharge the old social battery.

Among the assortment of gifts is one that stands out to me. James got me a gift that said “Open When Alone” and I did before I started this entry and it was a fucking necklace. Like, a gorgeous one. It’s gold and thin and it feels wonderful. There’s a little cat paw charm on it and it’s so pretty because he has a matching bracelet for himself and I have still not yet recovered.

It’s just so sweet and it reminds me why I love him.

Yes, love has made me unbelievably sappy. I just heaved the biggest sigh in history.

Unfortunately, I have to go earlier tonight. To the party, as written in previous entries. I remember my oath of one-night celibacy and I intend on keeping it, despite how fucking endearing this gift was, because he said it best: we’re just friends. I’m not about to coerce my best friend into sleeping with me out of a piteous, unrequited love. That’s just gross.

You will either see me hungover tomorrow, or very drunk later tonight. It’s all very depending on how this night turns out.

Dec. 26/20

Dear Jane,

Fuck.

P.S. He REALLY does not mind me calling him James. Take that as dirtily or as clandestinely as you wish.

Dec. 27/20

Dear Jane,

I spent the entire day in bed with very pleasurable company.

I am SO GLAD we haven’t gotten called in because James doesn’t leave unless to go to sleep in his own bed or to eat, and I do NOT want to explain to the team that James fucked my brains out for two days straight because my heart is bursting.

He’s a good kisser. His lips are soft.

Intimate knowledge of that is now burned into my memory for future reference.

God, this is a dream come true. He doesn’t even question it, he just

It’s like I’m a goddess to him. He treats me like one, at least, and it’s like he’ll do anything I ask. And we act like it’s normal, too. Midnight trips to the kitchen included.

Best Christmas ever.

Dec. 28/20

Dear Jane,

I feel like I’m ignoring you but I’m also having the best sex of my life. He’s just… so fucking good and it’s a holiday and holy shit my mind is blown.

Love at first meeting isn’t real.

Well, maybe this one time, it was destiny.

Dec. 29/20

Dear Jane,

It isn’t just the sex, you know? It’s the pillowtalk, too. He just makes me laugh so much and everything is so easy between us and it feels real. Popcorn and chips in bed, some mojitos, just each other’s presence. It’s enough like that, you know?

Some quote about how the one you love should be both your lover and your best friend is in my head but I’m too lazy to look it up. James’ head is in my lap and he’s just reading while I’m writing and everything seems perfect.

He doesn’t ask what I’m writing because he knows it’s private and I trust him.

This is perfect.

I think I really am IN love with him.

Jan. 1/21

You know that cliché/tradition of New Year’s kisses?

WELL THEN.

Best (and worst) New Year’s ever. I’ll explain more later. I’m too tired and too angry and also sore and bruised.

See you when I’m not hungover.

Jan. 5/21

Dear Jane,

I’m finally stable enough to write.

In a crazy turn of events, Barnes and I got into a fight because of what happened after New Year’s Day’s events: I caught him leaving before I woke up and at first, curious questions ensued, and it wasn’t a fight but then it became one and I don’t even know how it happened. I wasn’t even mad. He just started being weird and I got annoyed and we tried and failed to keep our voices down. Luckily, my room is pretty soundproof.

Things just got out of hand and I feel like tearing my hair out. I wanna storm up to him and just yell some more.

Tony came into my room and didn’t say shit about my hickies and the fact that James is avoiding me like the plague. He gave me a really good hug, though and then gave me a few weeks off extra. I don’t know how he knows, but then again, it’s Tony.

He just said love’s tough sometimes.

Yeah, tell me about it.

I’m thinking about just taking a long vacation and disappearing. It seems like a good route to take at this point.

Jan. 6/21

Dear Jane,

James is looking at me right now as I write this. I wonder if I should look back or if he’s going to come up to me. We’ll see.

I’m only writing this so it seems like I’m busy. I’m running out of things to say, honestly. Can he just go? What’s the point in staring like that? What’s the point?

I could ask myself the same question. What’s the point in loving someone who’ll never love you? Yeah, he’s sleeping with me but he pulls away every time I try to do something more. Outside the bubble of my room and the small time frame of post-11PM to around 4:45AM, he acts like he’s allergic to intimacy.

It was never like that with ex-Girlfriend.

Maybe it’s something to do with me.

I don’t know, but he keeps looking and I want to get up and leave, but I won’t. I’m not gonna let him win.

Jan. 6/21

He didn’t. He just went out. Sam and Steve asked if I was okay because as soon as he left, I got up for the bathroom and screamed into a towel.

I don’t think either of them knows what’s going on, but they have a notion.

Jan. 9/21

Dear Jane,

He apologized. Still no explanation as to why, but it feels weird.

I told him I’m going on a vacation to Switzerland. Go skiing or something and asked if he wanted to come.

It was stupid to ask, but he said yes.

Shit.

Jan. 14/21

Dear Jane,

Switzerland is lovely.

No work is relaxing. Awkwardness between me and the other traveller on this vacation. Weather’s supposed to be nice when we get there. Sunny snow days, pretty mountains, other Swiss things.

No other comment.

Jan. 21/21

Dear Jane,

I lasted all of a week.

Yep, I slept with him again, and yes, he was back in his hotel bed come sunrise.

I dunno. I’m over it. We don’t apologize and hope everything gets back to normal because neither of us want to say anything to ruin it any further and we both have a major fear of the complicated. To be fair, he said he didn’t want to sleep with me if I was completely against it.

Also, I tried calling him Bucky at dinner like ex-Girlfriend (and everyone else) does and he made the most disgusted face.

He said, and I quote, “Bucky? When did I stop being James?”

I told him I was trying something out and he said it failed. Snarky bastard.

I guess if he’s still James, that must mean I’m still special.

That’s the Tony-inherited ego talking.

But it does make me exceptionally happy to play with the idea that I’m special to him. Best friend with convoluted benefits. Sounds like the title of a very long-winded self-help book that doesn’t really help much but that does sound like the story of my life so I can’t complain too much.

We’re going home in a few days.

I’ll probably sleep with him again. Bet Steve’s shield that I do.

Jan. 24/21

Dear Jane,

I get three Steve’s shields because I was right every single fucking day.

He’s like a habit I can’t quite kick and don’t really want to.

We snuggled afterwards last night. His arm was around my shoulders, we were naked, I was resting my head on his chest. For a moment, it felt like something couples do and then I fell asleep and woke up alone.

Quantum physics is easier to understand than this but I think we’re being mutually exclusive right now, so it’s almost dating.

I dunno. I don’t mind it anymore. It’s better than nothing.

Feb. 2/21

Dear Jane,

I’m absolutely miserable.

I’m still getting laid, but that’s not related. Correlation and causation or something.

Why is New York so dreary and when can everything just stop?

I don’t know. Winter is ending and now it’s in that awful transition phase between seasons and it’s mucky and rainy and disgusting. Tony got these limited edition ice cream flavours though so I’m gonna ask James if we can make milkshakes out of them or something.

He doesn’t like the muck either. That’s not really relevant, I guess.

Feb. 14/21

Dear Jane,

I got flowers and chocolate from the department because I think they can sense I’ve been in a bad mood since forever. Then, there was an anonymous delivery and inside was this gorgeous chain bracelet that matches the necklace sort of. I lied and told the department it was from Pepper.

What a wretched holiday.

Yours truly.

Feb. 18/21

Dear Jane,

Normally, when boys get their haircut, they look ugly for a day or two after.

Not James.

He got his hair cut shorter and he looks really good. Like unbelievably good. Short hair fits him just as much as long hair does.

No other observations.

Feb. 25/21

Dear Jane,

It was Morgan’s birthday party today. James came in one of those brown jackets with the sheepskin wool inside and he looked so good. We mainly stayed apart to prevent any dalliance because one does not disappear from the Madame Secretary’s birthday party and the team doesn’t really know what’s happening behind the scenes except for Nat and Tony, really.

I really wanted to kiss him in front of our friends. I caught him staring a few times, and every time, the smile seemed to vanish off his face.

I’m lying in bed and it feels pretty empty.

It occurs to me that I’ve been in love for a pretty long time and I’m not even in a relationship with the guy.

Energy could’ve been devoted to so many other things and I’d hate being in love if it weren’t for the fact that it’s James.

Again, love making me sappy and all that.

Feb. 28/21

Dear Jane,

Jane is such a common name. Some would call it plain yet it means gift from God.

I wonder if James knew that.

Mar. 10/21

Dear Jane,

It’s James’ birthday. Birthday sex is a requirement and a desire. I also got him a gift which is a pair of new black Timbs. I hope he likes them. I’m excited for cake, I guess. Morgan did my makeup but I’m gonna have to wipe it off for the small little party tonight.

I think, ordinarily, I’d be in knots because it’s James’ birthday and I love him and he’s my best friend, but I just don’t know. March is fairly boring and contemplative and rainy. Work is work. Helen Cho did a presentation on her Cradle technology. Very cool.

Mar. 20/21

Dear Jane,

It’s raining and doesn’t feel like spring. Alpine vomited on my bed a few days ago because he’s not feeling well. James and I took him to the vet and he’s on antibiotics. Poor boy. He’s sleeping in the corner of my room right now while James is away on a mission. I think I’ll just work from my room for a bit until he’s feeling better.

Nothing much to report, which is why I didn’t write anything. The month passed by too quickly. James should be back by the end of the month. I miss him and not because of the sex. No one else who doesn’t work for me or pays me listens to me ramble on their own free will. Talking to screens just isn’t the same.

April 1/21

James got back really early this morning and I, by tradition, was awake. I sort of wish I wasn’t though. In true April Fool’s tradition, I made fun of him for being a day late to which he genuinely apologized. I told him to shower and get to sleep but he was in that mood where you’re so exhausted you’re wide awake.

James suggested we make really strong cocktails for each other as a celebration for an extraction mission completed successfully.

Who am I to say no to celebrating?

He really likes grapefruit juice so I made a REALLY strong Grapefruit Paloma. He made this really interesting drink that was purple and tasted like oranges and cranberries. A lot of blue curacao was in it so it was pretty bitter but it hit like a fucking truck which is probably why I didn’t understand anything he said at first.

He told me he loved me.

I think, somehow, he managed to get drunk after the Grapefruit Paloma and two more bottles of vodka. Don’t ask me how because Steve NEVER gets drunk. Maybe HYDRA-brand serum is faulty? I don’t know.

I asked if he knew what date it was. He laughed really loudly, said no, realized, stuttered apologies and then said it again.

It was the most perfect sound in the world and it was the best moment in recent history.

Or, the sickest practical joke.

Consensus not yet reached.

April 2/21

Dear Jane,

I asked if he remembered what happened yesterday morning.

He did not.

Sickest practical joke confirmed.

April 9/21

Dear Jane,

I’ve been avoiding writing because I’ve felt a whole lot of nothing. Everything is abysmal and James’ confession is all I can think about. Tony’s on my ass about slipping and he has half the mind to put me on paid leave until I get my shit together, both as the head of the department and as an agent.

Drunk words are sober thoughts, all that garbage.

I wish I could live my whole life drunk and honest. Maybe then I wouldn’t be in this situation where I’m stuck in eternal limbo with my best friend whom I’m in love with. Minus the drunk part.

Duty demands I return to this weathered journal until it’s finished so we’ll see. I might be back this month. Maybe not.

May 1/21

Dear Jane,

It rained a lot in April so now the flowers are blooming early. April showers bring May flowers. Guess it has some merit to it.

Limbo sucks. Its inescapable nature, its terrible facade of everything seeming fine when it really isn’t.

Of course, James still makes me smile, but nothing seems really okay when I let myself stop for a second.

I’m going out with Steve to a charity thing tomorrow. Should be a few hours worth of not thinking and free booze. Oh, and James and I made out in one of the quinjets after dinner today.

Felt weird considering we aren’t a couple, but it happened spontaneously as that is the nature of our relationship, it appears.

The cause also happens to be the cure of melancholy. Weird.

May 6/21

Dear Jane,

For context, it’s 5:23AM.

Went for a walk in Madison Square and then Central Park with James yesterday, although in my head it’s still today. We met up with Nat for some training at the gym. Got a bit mobbed by fans and the paps who asked if we were dating like we’re the tabloid’s biggest scoop.

We weren’t even holding hands, but I guess it’s just another reason why we shouldn’t be TOGETHER together in public.

We had another deep stuff talk again in bed after the usual business. I wanted to ask what this is between us and if he’s pursuing other options, because I’m not and I wanted to know if I should, but I also didn’t want to ruin the vibe.

He was in a good mood today, and seeing as sometimes he has nightmares, I thought it was best I don’t ruin it. He thinks I don’t notice but how do I not notice? He’s my best friend.

I kissed his cheek when he got up to leave and he kissed me goodbye on the lips.

I guess that means something.

May 17/21

Dear Jane,

In a moment of complete boredom, I listened to Imagine Dragons’ new album. It wasn’t too bad, to be honest, but Sharon thought it could’ve been better. Whatever.

May 22/21

Dear Jane,

Ran into ex-Girlfriend today. She still has that whole sunshine thing going on still. We had coffee and she asked if I got together with James yet.

I choked on my coffee and nearly died on the spot.

That’s how I learned that James apparently broke it off softly and ex-Girlfriend had, very wisely and knowingly, said that he should chase the apple of his eye before I (the apple) rotted alone and forgotten at the trunk of the tree. Or, as any sane person would say (and ex-Girlfriend DID say), get picked from the tree by another hand.

She said it was quite obvious that I was in love with James even months ago. She also thanked me for being so nice, anyway, and that it must’ve been difficult. What a fucking SAINT.

I set her up with a date with Steve because they have the same energy, honestly, and that’s going down on the 26th barring any emergencies.

Call me Cupid, but I think I just constructed the perfect match made in heaven.

Mentioned this meeting to James minus the apple detail. He asked if she was doing okay, which she was, and seemed glad for that. Between kisses and his sneaking hand beneath the covers, he also asked if there was anything else. Not really much to say on that front.

June 3/21

Dear Jane,

It’s starting to dry up consistently, now. It’s getting warmer, too. Sam brought me flowers and told me to at least turn the air-con on if I was gonna be stuck in the lab all day. Oh, the simplicities of summer are hopefully returning. Got out early and hung out with Morgan at the park in the evening.

It’s nice to hang out with someone so blissfully unaware with the stupidity of love. All Morgan cares about is grass and buttercups she grabs from the ground. She doesn’t have to worry about how to tell the guy she’s in love with that she loves him.

Oh, didn’t you hear? Nat said I should just buck the fuck up and tell him.

And Nat is scary when not listened to.

Much to brainstorm about.

June 14/21

Dear Jane,

Just here to brainstorm some ideas for future Stark Industries projects and thought I’d preface it with a small diary entry. Nothing really happened. Work’s catching up for some reason and bad guys are acting up. I’ve pulled a few all nighters, not gonna lie.

Really tired, but in a good, productive way. Haven’t thought much on the James front. Gonna have to focus on that after everything calms down.

June 20/21

Dear Jane,

It’s officially summer and yet today was awful with only subtle hints of being okay.

So much for simplicity.

In the evening, I read on the hammock on the balcony. No one really bothered me except James, but he’s never a bother.

Steve and ex-Girlfriend (who will now be reidentified as Girlfriend) are pretty cute, and she meshes well with the group. There’s nothing really awkward between her, James, or me, so I guess two people’s summers are going well. Bully for them.

Didn’t really eat. Was too busy working. James got me dinner. Didn’t feel right and just kept working. This whole agreement between us has been very flexible but we really need to fit in a session soon.

I’ll make it work somehow.

June 22/21

Dear Jane,

I got my wish and didn’t at the same time. We spent the whole day in the sheets (very blissfully relaxing) and I, stupidly and with very little sleep, let it slip.

In less elegant terms, I told him I loved him. It felt very real and genuine and very-out-of-a-movie, but his reaction was less so.

What did I say? Allergic to intimacy.

He tried to play it off as best friends and even that was uncomfortable, but I, very seriously and very foolishly, corrected him that “no, James Buchanan Barnes, I am IN LOVE with you.”

He left a few minutes ago, saying something about heading down to the gym, but I know he’s just trying to avoid me.

God, how am I so stupid?

June 25/21

Dear Jane,

I haven’t seen James in a few days. I thought he was avoiding me but turns out he’s out of the country. Something about protection for whatever dignitary is travelling at the end of the month. I don’t know.

I wasn’t assigned to that op so the details weren’t shared liberally. Sam just said it’d be a while during the ambassador’s entire stay. High threat level which is why the Avengers were contracted.

I just hope he stays safe. I know he probably took off to take his mind off things, but I don’t know how he’s focusing when all I can think of is those three little words.

I love you.

Seems so fake the more I hear it in my head, but his reaction was so real that I think I might’ve just irreversibly messed things up.

July 12/21

Dear Jane,

It’s been a hectic couple of weeks. If future me finds this with blotted words, it’s because I am indeed crying while writing this.

James was medically evac’ed last night and transferred back to New York. Helen Cho was flown in from her medical conference in Minnesota where she was showcasing the newest version of the Cradle.

There was an assasination attempt and James is fucked up bad.

Holy shit, I’m so scared. I’ve never been so scared in my life. It’s like an invisible demon has my heart in his claw-like hands and he’s squeezing with all his might. I think my heart might explode.

I just want to hold his hand but he’s so high risk no one’s allowed to see him right now.

The waiting room is too quiet. Steve’s holding on to Girlfriend’s hand so hard I think her bones are broken but she’s taking it like a champ. Nat’s pacing, slowly patting a sleeping Morgan who she’s carrying. Sam and Tony are talking about stuff.

It’s too quiet.

I’m so scared.

July 13/21

They got him into the Cradle. Thank God. I think I might cry some more out of relief, but he was conscious for a few minutes earlier and he’s stable now.

It’s really late at night but they extended privileges to me to stay with him so I’m just sitting here, writing. Listening to the Cradle do its thing and the monitors do theirs.

When he was conscious, I was with him. He said some stuff under his breath but the one thing I could make out was “I’m an idiot.”

Granted, he’s right. It was supposed to be Steve or Tony on that mission. You know, people with more defense op experience, but he had to go out and volunteer himself.

I feel sort of guilty.

It’s partially my fault, isn’t it?

I think I’ll try to tuck in for tonight. I wanna be awake when he wakes up, too.

July 14/21

Dear Jane,

James woke up today. He’s still in the Cradle (lots of internal damage spread throughout the body) but he’s conscious. He saw me and immediately tried to sit up which was sweet, but when he couldn’t, he just told me to come closer and then told me that he loved me.

I called him an idiot for running away. I told him he really scared me. I told him that I loved him so fucking much. I told him that I feel so guilty and he just held my face and said that it will never be my fault.

He’s so fucking romantic, even when he’s lying down with a wound being stitched closed live in front of my eyes.

Oh, and he kissed me. I don’t think I noticed how much I actually missed him until that moment.

I don’t know how to describe the feeling in my chest. It’s a mixture between super happy and super scared and super, super warm inside. Summer might be looking up.

July 18/21

Dear Jane,

We got home today. James is staying in my room. The team doesn’t say anything about it. We’re best friends, after all, but I think they’ve known for a long time that there’s something more. Some of them are just too polite to say so.

I won’t have much time to write over the next couple of days. James has to be kept on a strict, extremely healthy diet and medicine regime.

I don’t care. I’m just glad he’s home.

He’s kissing me a lot more, now. Alpine likes the fact that his two humans are now in the same room. He purrs so loudly, I can hear him from where he’s dozing, curled up underneath James’ chin. He (James) is resting after his second round of antibiotics for the day while I work from my room, and sometimes I catch myself looking back just to make sure he’s okay.

I’m going to go kiss him now.

Be right back.

July 21/21

Dear Jane,

It’s almost Nat’s birthday (the 26th). Super exciting. James is back on solids and I’m helping him around with walking. Even with the Cradle and the healing factor, he’s still super banged up, so it’s better safe than sorry.

We had a really long talk about love and stuff. It’s good to finally have it out in the open. It was mostly me talking about my side of things and he just nodded a lot. I know he was listening though.

We also kissed a lot, like seventeen year old couples who are heavy on the PDA, but within the privacy of my room. I dunno. I like the heat of his arms and the way he kisses the shell of my ear when he’s bored or it’s a commercial break.

It feels very natural.

I am very much in love with him.

I tell him that and he always looks skeptical, but whatever. He doesn’t have to say it back (I tell him that there’s no pressure) and he’ll get it through his thick skull eventually that he’s now stuck with me.

July 25/21

Dear Jane,

We made cookies in the early AM as tradition for the party tomorrow and I told him that I love him (again, but this time he didn’t run, nor has he the past few times. Fantastic).

While the cookies were baking, he explained everything on his side of the story: how he was scared to be vulnerable, how opening up to me is just different and new and scary and I get it. I really do. I know how it feels to think you don’t deserve good things and sabotage feels like the only way to save everyone from hurt.

He smiled a lot more after that. I guess he’s just glad I get it.

One day, I’ll successfully convince James that he deserves everything good this world has to offer.

Until then, I’ll just keep trying.

P.S. He said, with less hesitation than the first time, that he loves me, too. Best. Day. Ever.

P.P.S. The cookies are so good and I want to devour them all. I could barely stop James from eating all of them. Again: Best. Day. Ever.

July 26/21

Dear Jane,

In summary of today:

Happy birthday, Natasha.

James has been given the clear bill of health which is exciting. Also, I asked him about the Jane and gift of God thing.

He knew. “Intuition” and all that. He also said I looked “like a royal dame” in my swimsuit. Smug idiot just trying to be charming.

I love him and that’s the only reason it works.

Back to the festivities.

July 27/21

Dear Jane,

Good morning to you and to James who’s still in my bed at a ripe 6:23AM, fast asleep.

Progress. Now, back to sleep.

July 27/21

Dear Jane,

It’s now 9:49AM and James greeted me with orange juice and waffles. He said I was cute when I slept. Creep.

He also said he tried so many times to stay in my bed after, before we were like we are now, but he never could, and now he’s upset that he missed out on my cute sleeping/waking up for the day face every time he did so.

He is exceptionally cute when he’s pouting.

I think we’re officially boyfriend-girlfriend, but we’ll work out the semantics on that later. For now, it’s another summer day together. He suggested Chinese takeout for dinner because I have to go dip back into the lab later today to check on some samples.

I agreed and he kissed me in promise like it was our “thing.” I can’t stop smiling like an idiot.

Massive progress.

July 28/21

Dear Jane,

He told me I was the only one for him.

Also, he kissed me in front of our friends for the first time. Natasha yelled “FINALLY” and pushed us into the pool. Sam laughed and then I grabbed him and threw him into the pool. Ensuing: a water fight for the ages.

For a day: 10/10

July 31/21

Hey Jane,

I think I’m happy.

I’m sorry I ever doubted the effects of writing down my feelings.

James has a romantic trip to uptown planned for our first date and he said it’ll take the whole day so I thought I’d get this entry in the morning. I dunno. It’s really early and the happy thought was the first thing that came to my head.

Weird, but it’s a good weird.

See you in a bit.

518 notes · View notes

davidmann95 · 4 years

Note

Comics this week (3/17/2021)?

Justice League #59: This issue feels like the biggest testament to the word that Infinite Frontier is just the interim before the real relaunch that’s coming, because there is zero pomp or circumstance here of the kind you’d expect even if you think Bendis sucks. Young Justice of all things felt weightier than this in its debut; this is perfectly passable mind you, but if it was anything less than Justice League I’d go “ok, this is one of those Bendis books I don’t care about” and pass it by. I’m pretty sure his more substantial plans for the title are being kept for a proper new #1 waiting in the wings, but in the meantime it’s a perfectly slick team book with a couple decent bits, a bunch of my favorite characters, and pretty Marquez/Bonvillain art so I’m fine with it. Obviously the V/Xermanico Justice League Dark backup was the highlight.

Superman: Red and Blue #1: Apparently a lot of Superman fans didn’t like this, which doesn’t surprise me - a lot of it is Clark beaten down, needing help, or otherwise on the back foot one way or another, and that triggers a lot of alarm bells for a certain type of stan at this point. For my money though these were almost all great, and I was even able to get the cover by the Final Fantasy logo artist Yoshitaka Amano.

* Ridley/Henry/Bellaire/Sharp: The big advertised presentation, I’ve been really curious in the wake of Other History what Ridley would do with a Superman solo story and this absolutely didn’t disappoint. A harrowing take on Clark as truly vulnerable and how his mindset shifts or doesn’t in response I’m kind of astonished DC let the team get away with, this came together wonderfully.

* Easton/Lieber/Chan/Cowles: The weakest of the bunch, a severe but moving tale contrasting Superman’s splashy adventures with his potential impact on those around him bookended by some much weaker stock “are you sure you’re doing enough?” material, though it’s absolutely beautiful under Lieber and Chan, especially the final page.

* Craig/Bennett: A fantastic little tale of parallels on the human scale existing in Superman’s wake, and while that material’s only front-and-center for a couple panels here I would kill to see Craig draw a big cosmic epic.

* Watters/Dani/Sharpe: The big standout aside from Ridley’s story, there’s kind of no excuse for this not having been the first feature of the issue given it’s about the gimmick of the format in a way that leads directly out of its inspiration in Batman: Black and White. I do wonder what colorblind readers would make of the message of this one though, even if I read it the point of what happened as extending beyond the literal physical. In any case, I desperately hope this and Future State: Superman/Wonder Woman won’t be the extent of Watters’ work in this territory.

* Bennett/Thompson/Peteri: A simple but sweet little story of a young Clark learning a formative lesson - don’t see the gimmick that often of having both caption boxes and thought balloons around for different purposes, and it’s one I’m always happy to see.

Nightwing #78: As a Taylor fan, gotta say, this sucks. Flat, twee, totally without narrative momentum or weight except for a single completely bonkers new element in Dick’s world I’ll discuss in another ask, and of all things for some reason a bizarrely shameless Fraction/Aja Hawkeye ripoff alongside its rote regurgitation of Dixon and Snyder. This is everything people who hate the guy’s (non-Injustice, non-DCeased) work think of it as, and Redondo, Lucas, and Abbott’s next level, jaw-droppingly gorgeous work here is crushingly wasted. I’m not sure I can judge this as a ‘failure’ when it’s absolutely going to succeed at its actual goals - not as a story even if I understand even more people are pulling it than the new JL, but as contextless panels to circulate around comics Twitter/Tumblr in perpetuity - but as someone who thought a lot of Taylor’s strengths have been often overlooked and was hoping he’d pull out of some of his worst habits, it’s such a downer to watch him dive in face-first. An instant drop.

Catwoman #29: Fully out of the Brubaker shadow for me at this point and into its own oddball take on crime in Gotham, it doesn’t seem to be attracting much heat but I hope the team gets the space to see its story through and I suspect this run will be looked back on very fondly as a hidden gem in years to come.

Batman vs. Ra’s Al Ghul #5: IT’S BACK BABY, AND LESS EXPLICABLE THAN EVER. So happy.

Captain America Anniversary Tribute #1: Actually picked this up for a friend of the family who was interested and it’ll be shipped to him later, but read it while we have it and it’s exactly what it says on the tin, so if a bunch of artists doing their spins on these pages appeals it’s perfectly worth your time.

Iron Man #7: I continue to be unable to believe in the best way that this is what the ongoing Iron Man comic is about now.

S.W.O.R.D. #4: Alright, alright, alright - probably the weakest issue so far (which is to say it’s still a lot of fun by most any other books’ standard), but we’re past the King In Black of it all and ready to get into the promise of that debut.

Radiant Black #2: I was really concerned whether this would live up to the promise of the first issue or immediately begin to decline, but I’m happy to report that so far this seems like it’s leaning into its better aspects even if the superheroism remains the weaker half, and I’m still curious to see where this goes.

Abbott 1973 #3: Picked up some after the last issue was losing me, I’m back in the tank for the remaining couple.

Orphan and the Five Beasts #1: Stokoe doing kung-fu horror, madness, and righteous vengeance, an easy win.

Ultramega #1: I was skeptical about this one - I’d barely heard of James Harren even as folks were suddenly talking as if him doing work was long understood as a must-see, the preview didn’t especially grab me, and this didn’t seem to much stand out to me among the increasing surge of toku-inspired material. I was ready for the hype to betray me, but while I’ve seen a critique of this as a sausage-fest unwittingly or otherwise building a lot of its narrative on the pain and death of mothers I’d like to see femme or nonbinary critics unpack further, as a reading experience (prior to seeing said critique) this absolutely blew me away. Incredibly dense even at 60 pages - where a lot of those are splash pages no less - beautifully disgusting, gut-wrenching even aside from the pages with guts being wrenched, monumental, and mysterious, a tale of what happens when we’re let down by the men forced into the role of godling-saviors and what happens next. That Harren mentions in the afterward that this is the first comic he’s written is as remarkable as its is infuriating.

#Week's Comics #Opinion

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haberdashing · 3 years

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open your eyes (i see your eyes are open) (4/?)

Jon, faced with being the last one left in a dying world, sends his memories back in time to someone who might be able to fix things before the worst can happen.

Sasha James, for her part, is very confused.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4

on AO3

The visit to Artefact Storage was nice, but just like when she’d been reassigned, Sasha was only too happy to get out of there and head to the Archives, though she knew well enough now that the latter was plenty dangerous in its own right. At least she knew what to expect from the Archives. At least the Archives weren’t literally paying her to test out horrible, unpredictable things...

...no, that was Jon’s job now, wasn’t it? Elias had chosen him, the Web had chosen him, and now he was the Archivist, and he was going to be put through things much worse than anything Artefact Storage had to offer...

Sasha had started this train of thought in the hopes of reassuring herself, but instead, as she entered the Archives, she just felt a little queasy as she thought of what lay in store in Jon’s future.

Or what would lay in store in Jon’s future, anyway. Things wouldn’t be so bad this time around, not if Sasha had a say in it.

Jon was already in the Archives, perched over Tim’s desk as the two spoke about something, and Sasha was struck by the sight of him. He looked so different than he had in his final days before, and not just because his skin was free of scars--his hair was short and much less gray than before, he was still wearing a suit of all things rather than the hodgepodge of outfits he’d rummaged through as his professional mask slipped and his options grew slimmer...

...and, as Jon turned her way, Sasha could see his eyes focus on her, and though his gaze was still dark and meaningful, there wasn’t the same weight to it, the same sense of the universe itself staring back out of those deep eyes.

(She still felt like she was being watched, but that was only to be expected now, wasn’t it?)

“Good to see you, Sasha.” Jon shot her a quick nod. “I was just briefing Tim on his next project--you’re still working on the Hodgson file, correct?”

God, that felt like ages ago, though Jon had only given Sasha that assignment last Thursday. The Hodgson file wasn’t even one of the real ones, just somebody who’d gotten drunk and mistook what was probably a plane for an alien vessel, though Sasha was struggling to recall all the details at the moment. “Right, yeah, I was, er, having trouble looking up the relevant flight patterns, I believe it was? But I’ll keep trying, of course, so-”

Jon looked over Sasha again, and his gaze softened slightly. “Are you feeling alright? You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine, I... it’s just, um...” ...hell, she was struggling to come up with an excuse, so why even bother? She wanted to tell Jon about what she’d learned eventually, and perhaps now was as good a time as any. “Actually, could we talk in your office? When you’re done with Tim, I mean, I don’t mean to rush you.”

“I think we’re done here already.” There was a flat tone to Tim’s voice that set Sasha on edge--had he and Jon been arguing, perhaps?

“Oh, yes, we’ve covered pretty much everything I wanted to discuss at this point, so.” Jon rapped twice on Tim’s desk with a slender fist, a gesture Sasha had never seen him use before his promotion but had already encountered several times since. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Sounds like a plan, boss.” Tim’s voice had a bit more energy to it now, and as she walked with Jon to his office, Sasha saw him shoot her a wry grin.

Sasha closed the door behind her and took a seat as Jon got settled.

“What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Well...”

That feeling of being watched that permeated the Institute was making the hairs on the back of Sasha’s neck stand up, and she knew it wasn’t just because Jon was looking at her with an expression somewhere between curious and impatient.

What were the odds that Elias- that Jonah Magnus was watching them right now? Probably not great, really, he did have an actual job besides just spying on his employees, but he certainly could be watching. Was thinking about it that much more likely to make it happen, drawing his attention to her thoughts? God, it was hard to know, wasn’t it? And that was the problem, being caught up with knowing and not knowing...

“Now that you’re the head archivist here, it’s your job to hear when the general public’s encountered something supernatural, right?”

“If it’s in a statement given to us, yes, but those are usually made by liars and the mentally unwell.”

Sasha did her best to drum up a smile. “Good thing this isn’t a statement, then, right?”

It could be a formal statement, probably, but Sasha didn’t want that, not when anybody with access to their archives could read it afterwards, not when there was information she now knew that could prevent the literal end of the world if the right people acted upon it.

A soft sigh, more perfunctory than anything. Jon was trying to play the grump again, but Sasha was pretty sure she could see through it even without everything she now knew about Jon masking his true feelings. “Where are you going with this, Sasha?”

“This weekend, my mind just- just filled with a ton of information suddenly. Info about you, about the other assistants, about the supernatural, about a little bit of everything really. Things I should have no way of knowing, but now I do. I figured you ought to know--could come in handy down the line.”

“Do you have any proof of this?” Jon tilted his head to one side slightly. “Something you shouldn’t know about me, perhaps--and not just from hacking, either?”

Sasha thought about arguing the point about hacking with Jon, but honestly, it was fair enough that she be called on it. Instead, she just nodded and took a deep breath--not that she really needed the extra air for what she was going to say, but because it felt right, and who was she to deny the moment that extra bit of dramatic flair?

“Mister Spider wants more.”

Jon’s face went pale in an instant, his gaze unfocusing as he seemed to look more through Sasha than at her.

“Jon?”

Jon didn’t respond.

“Jon, it’s okay!” Sasha rapped gently on his desk. “It’s just me. It’s not... it’s not that.”

Jon blinked rapidly a few times before shaking his head.

“You alright?”

“I’m fine.” Jon was clearly not fine, as his hands were shaking slightly and his face still didn’t have its full color back, but Sasha wasn’t going to argue the point. “But I- I’ve never told anybody about that, how did you-”

“I told you. Weird supernatural information shoved into my head over the weekend. Simple as that.”

“Right. You- you weren’t making that up, then.”

It wasn’t really a question, but Sasha answered just the same. “Of course not. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Jon looked unconvinced, and Sasha suddenly remembered how when “Antonio Blake”’s statement had appeared, Jon had thought only Tim could be trusted to investigate it, only Tim could be ruled out for having written it as a practical joke on his new boss--that felt like an eternity ago, and yet it hadn’t even happened yet...

“You said you didn’t want to give a formal statement, correct? Was there any other action you expected from me regarding this?”

Sasha shrugged. She still wasn’t sure how much she could share, especially here, in the belly of the beast. Maybe in the tunnels, some time... assuming there still were tunnels, and they weren’t being plagued by worms or Not-Thems or murderous Jurgen Leitners...

“I just wanted you to know about it, mostly. I know a lot about these old archives now, so if you’ve ever got a question, I’m glad to do what I can. Not that I wouldn’t be willing to help anyway, but, you know, if I already know the location and validity of statement number 0051701, or whatever, might as well use it, right?”

Jon squinted a little. “What is statement number 0051701?”

“Oh, it’s...” Sasha let out a soft giggle. “We haven’t gone over it yet, but it’s about an old calliope organ.”

“Kuh-LY-o-pee.” Jon corrected.

“Ka-lee-O-pee.” Sasha repeated, a grin growing on her face. “Though there’s really no one correct pronunciation, or so I’ve heard.”

“...right. Well, thank you for letting me know about all this, I suppose.”

“Of course. You are the boss around here, right?”

“As Tim keeps reminding me, yes.”

Sasha stood back up and cracked open Jon’s office door, but before she left entirely, she added, “Seriously, reach out if you need me- or any of us, really. It’s not healthy to spend too long cooped up in here by yourself.”

“Duly noted.”

As the door closed behind Sasha, she could only hope that she was doing enough, that her offers to help would be taken advantage of when Jon needed it most.

#tma #tma au #tma fic #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives au #the magnus archives fic #the magnus archives fanfic #personal #my writing

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fanfictionaries · 5 years

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A Fine Line Between Lust and Hate - jbbuckybarnes Birthday Challenge

Thank you to @jbbuckybarnes for this fun writing challenge! Congratulations on over 900 followers and also happy 21st birthday! It’s a fun age, enjoy it!

Prompt 1: Bookstore AU

Prompt 2: “Just gimme the book and fuck off!”

Pairing: AU Bookstore!Bucky Barnes X female reader

Summary: If there was one person you hated more than anyone else in the world it was James Buchanan “Call Me Bucky” Barnes. Or at least, you thought you did. As Bucky continues to press your patience, it becomes unclear as to whether it’s hate you feel, or lust.

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: Swearing, smut, doggy style, oral (male receiving), NSFW/18+ only

Author’s Note: Man, I do love a good rousing debate over literature.

***

You stood in one of the long aisles as you worked on putting the store’s most recent influx of donations on the shelves. The endless rows of historical memories stretched high above your head and all around you. However, the large stack in front of you currently sat untouched, a copy of Ernst Jünger’s Storm of Steel held tightly in your grasp, as you watched the events occurring at the front desk. Your coworker, James, was leant casually against the counter, once again ignoring his work duties as he openly and obnoxiously flirted with the woman in front of him.

God, you hated him. You hated his stupid long hair that he pulled up into a stupid bun. You hated his stupid tight jeans that hugged his thick thighs and his stupid red Henley that accentuated his muscular shoulders and arms. You hated his stupid handsome face that only fueled his overall cocky attitude. God, you absolutely hated James Buchanan ‘Call Me Bucky’ Barnes.

You hadn’t set out to hate him of course. Quite the opposite in fact. When your boss informed you of a new employee who wasn’t a billion-year-old woman, you had been ecstatic. Not to say you didn’t love Lucille, but to finally meet a person close to your age that loved books so much they were willing to work at the musty, expansive bookstore was a dream come true. For years now, you’d found yourself spending more time alone, tucked into the rows of books than you did with anyone your own age. You’d think that the kitschy bookstore would be a draw to the younger individuals in town, with the rise of intellectualism or at least the guise of intellectualism within today’s youth. Not to mention, the fact that it was nestled in between the cutest antique store and 50’s style diner. But, alas, it didn’t seem to be on trend for your town. Instead, you got the odd stragglers of older individuals who still enjoyed reading physical books, and local community college students looking to either sell or buy books for classes. That’s why the idea of coming into work every day to a coworker you could relate to was beyond wonderful. However, it hadn’t taken long for James to get so far under your skin, you practically wore him like a pair of itchy long johns.

It had started with his complete disregard for the books and their safety. As a self-proclaimed bibliophile, you took great pride in the care and safety of the books in the store. They were a mix of new and used, the older ones coming into your protective arms the moment you clocked the torn corners and dog-eared pages. You spent hours restoring them before putting them out to be appreciated by the next reader. That’s why, on his third day there when you’d spotted him using his copy of Catcher in the Rye as a coaster for his iced coffee, you’d nearly had an aneurysm. You wished that the situation was a one-time thing, but every time you turned a corner, he was bending spines, creasing pages, WRITING in the margins. He was a book sadist.

Then of course, there was the lackadaisical way in which he approached his job. Not once, not twice, but ten times in the last three months you had stayed late finishing work that had been assigned to him. Why did you do it, instead of letting him take the fall for shoddy work? Well, because it was always things that needed to be done either before the shop could close or before the shop could open. Closing out the till, turning off all the lights, locking the back door, fixing the displays, picking up the giant stack of books that had fallen near the back, changing a burnt-out light using the very old and very rickety ladder.

And lastly, the one thing you absolutely hated the most about him was just how incredibly flirty he was! From the very beginning, he took every opportunity to hit on you. At first it had been flattering, but incredibly jarring and confusing. What could he possibly want with you? He looked like that and you looked like, well people didn’t really want to date the weird bookstore girl that always smelled faintly of old books. Then, it had all come into focus. James flirted with everyone. Not just you. Everyone. The moment a woman under the age of forty walked through those front doors, James was there with his stupid charming ways; “Can I help you with anything today?” “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing in here today?” “I knew a woman of your caliber would have good taste in books.” All the while, he’d chance little glances your way, smirking at you and raising his eyebrows slightly. It was all a game to him. Prick.

“Now, see, that is a fantastic choice. I knew the moment you walked in you had good taste,” stated James pointing down at the copy of The God of Small Things that was currently clutched to the woman’s chest in her perfectly manicured hands. You rolled your eyes. Ridiculous. You glanced over again to see James smirking in your direction before he walked the woman to the front door and waved her goodbye, shutting and locking the door behind her. Last customer of the day. You sighed, turning back to the stacks in front of you and swiftly putting the books back into place. The quicker you got this done, the quicker you would be out of there and away from James’ mocking face and overall itchy personality. You continued to put the books away, probably harsher than you should have, as you listened to the faint sounds of James closing out the till. Well, at least he was doing that today. I knew the moment you walked in you had good taste, you mocked him in your head, huffing and puffing at just how infuriating he was. You winced at a particularly harsh shove of a book into the shelve. Quickly, you pulled it out and inspect the corners and sides of the hard cover.

“Careful there—” a pair of large hands came into your line of site, snatching the book from your hands “—What did Michael Herr ever do to you?”

“Nothing,” you huffed, turning to grab the book back, but coming up unsuccessful. “Although, I really would prefer it if you didn’t allow customers to stay so late past closing.”

“Why? Got somewhere to be? Hot date?” James asked, circling around you to lean against the bookshelves to your right.

You snorted, “As if that’s any of your business.”

“Come on. Lighten up a little bit (Y/N). She needed help finding a good book for her English class,” said James, pulling the book out of reach as you attempted to grab it back from him once again.

“Okay,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes and reaching back down to the stack of books remaining on the cart to your left.

“What? You got something against Indian authors writing about caste relations and cultural tensions?”

“No, but I think if Roy tried to squeeze one more literary device into the text, the book would literally explode. Nobody genuinely enjoys a work where the author is intentionally trying to be clever. It’s obnoxious,” you said as you continued to put the books into their correct spaces as quickly as possible.

“Oh, so I guess you don’t care for Shakespeare then? What about Vonnegut, Anne Rice, Tolkien? Every author thinks they’re clever (Y/N). If they didn’t, they wouldn’t be writers,” said James, crossing his arms and leaning towards you condescendingly.

“That’s-that’s just ridiculous,” you responded lamely, placing the last book in your pile away.

“Oh really? Then please, oh smart one, name a single author who didn’t take themselves so seriously that it didn’t bleed through their work in some way,” James challenged, once again pulling the book in his hands away from your reaching hands.

You stood there, glowering at the man in front of you as you tried to come up with some king of answer. “C. S. Lewis,” you blurted out, wanting to kick yourself at the obviously stupid answer.

A barking laugh left James, “Oh come on. The man spent most of his career preaching Christian values and what it means to be moral. He even went so far as to write a short story on what the afterlife looks like and how to get into heaven. Or are we just going to pretend like The Great Divorce didn’t happen? Just because he wrote a bunch of entertaining children’s stories bathed in Christian symbolism with little effort does not mean that he didn’t take himself seriously.”

His astute criticism caught you off guard and peaked your anger, mainly because to a certain extent he was right. That didn’t mean you were going to let him know that though, “Excuse you! I’ll have you know he wrote The Great Divorce after the death of his wife. What else was he supposed to write about? You know what James—”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Bucky?”

“Just gimme the book and fuck off!”

Your eyes widened at your outburst. You’d never spoken to anyone like that before in your life. Opening your mouth to apologize, you quickly closed it when James sighed heavily and pushed himself off of the bookshelf. He stared at you, his eyes calculating as he closed the space between you, slamming the good on the shelf behind your head. You jumped, turning so that you faced him head on, your back to the endless rows of books. James placed an intimidatingly large arm on either side of you, bracing himself against oak shelves. You swallowed thickly at the sheer size of him. Your pulse quickened. He had never been this close to you.

“You know what (Y/N)? I think you’re just jealous,” James murmured, tilting his head dangerously low to yours.

“Jealous? Of what?” you asked, your voice embarrassingly breathy, as your head began to swim. He was so close. So close you could smell his cologne, a musky warm scent mixed with the fresh scent of soap and…old books? Subtly, you tried to inhale more of the tantalizing smell without James noticing. But one glance up and you could see that familiar smirk and cocky gleam in his eye.

“Me, and every woman that walks in here ready to fuck me in the encyclopedia section.”

You gasped at his words, “That’s ridiculous. Why would I be jealous of that?”

“Because you want to fuck me in the encyclopedia section.”

“I—I do not—I do not want to—I hate you!”

James leaned closer, his nose brushing against yours, “Doesn’t mean you don’t want to fuck me—” His head titled, his lips brushing across your cheek, your jawline, and then to the shell of your ear. “—Just say the word and I’ll take you right there. Right then. Any time. Any day.”

You shivered at the offer. Never had his flirting gone this far. Sure, James had given you a flirtatious smile and charming little comment here and there, but never had he come close to propositioning you. You should say no. You hate him. He’s everything you despise and yet…

“Fuck it.” Rising up on the tips of your toes, you wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his in a searing kiss. James’ lips claim yours, never hesitating for a second, as if expecting it. The soft skin of his plush lips a stark contrast to the harsh way in which you both battled for dominance. Every ounce of anger, frustration, and tension that you held towards him fought its way through your body as you nipped, bit, and tugged. James’ hands moved from the bookshelf to your body, gripping your hips and tugging you harshly against him, revealing the same level of pent up aggression. His hands traveled upwards, cupping your breasts through your sweater, roughly massaging them as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. Threading your fingers into his hair, you tugged harshly earning you a growl from James. Breaking away from the kiss just long enough to pull your sweater up and over your head, your bodies reconnected, the feel of your bare torso against him feeling oh so right. You continued to hang onto him for dear life, as his kisses left you breathless and needy. Bringing a leg up around his hip, your pelvis rocked against him, searching for any kind of friction as you climbed him like a tree.

“Eager, aren’t we?” James teased, hands moving down to harshly grasp your ass and lift you up. Wrapping your legs around his hips, you allowed him to carry you the brief distance away from the bookshelves and lower you onto the rough carpet floor. Trailing kisses down your neck and towards your breasts, he roughly yanked the cups of your bra down before taking a nipple between his teeth. You arched into his mouth, loving the sting as he bit down.

“God, I knew you’d be a fucking little minx,” panted James, sitting up on his knees. “Look at you all sexy and needy. Just had to get you to let go.”

Pushing up onto your elbows, you stared up at him, “Shut the fuck up and take your shirt off James.”

Swinging his hand down, he swatted the inside of your thigh, “The name’s Bucky, babe.”

Your head fell backwards at the contact and your pussy clenched as you moaned low. Sitting up, you ripped his shirt from his torso and threw it behind you before pushing him down onto the ground. You made quick work of removing your bra, shoes, and pants before reaching for his belt buckle. This time it was his turn to push up onto his elbows as he watched your near naked form, undo his belt and then his pants. You tugged at his pants and then his boxers in a desperate manner, James kicking off his shoes and socks to held aid in their removal. Finally, when he was naked before you, you took a moment to admire the lean curves of his muscular form and the thick cock that sat just below his belly button, nestled in a patch of short brown curls.

Running your nails lightly up and down his thighs, you smirked as he writhed below you, sucking in a harsh breath through his teeth. Lowering yourself slowly, you positioned yourself between his thick thighs and grasped the base of his cock in your hand, wasting no time in wrapping your lips around the head and swirling your tongue around him. Bucky cursed, low and sexy as you took him in your mouth. You worked him with your lips and tongue as your moved lower and lower. Spit gathered in your mouth as you breathed through your nose, giving your all into pleasuring the man below you. You wanted to once and for all wipe the smirk off of James “Bucky” Barnes’ face. When you made it almost all the way to the base, you hollowed your cheeks, sucking as you massaged the vein on the underside of his cock with your tongue. His hands flew to the back of your head, fingers lacing in your hair and gripping tight. He held onto you for dear life as you attempted to suck the soul out of him through his dick alone.

“Jesus Christ! Fuck! (Y/N),” he yelled, his body shuddering. When you slipped down the last few inches, allowing his cock to slip easily down your throat, he stilled, body rigid before he pulled you off of him with a curse.

You fell backwards onto your hands, spit coating your lips and drool falling down your chin as you breathed in deeply. A low growl escaped James’ throat as he launched himself at you, flipping you onto your stomach, and ripping your panties down your legs. His hands found your center in no time, his fingers delving deep into your core easily, aided by the embarrassing amount of arousal there. James fingered you, curving and finding that special spot inside of you that made your see stars. You yelped, bucking your hips back against him. His teeth sunk into the supple flesh of your ass.

“You’re god damn dripping down my arm (Y/N). Did sucking my cock turn you on that much?”

“Yes!” you admitted, continuing to rock your hips against him. Pulling his fingers from you, you whimpered at the loss of contact. The loss was only temporary though, as soon James was pulling your hips up, placing you back on your knees, face still pressed against the carpet as he lined his cock up with your entrance. There was no slow and delicate start. No, in one swift thrust, he was seated fully inside of you, hands firmly grasping your ass as he began to fuck you at a punishing pace.

“Fucking hell baby. Your pussy is like a vice-grip. I don’t think I’m going to last long,” he admitted, continuing to pound into you, his balls slapping against your clit with every thrust. He reached down, finding your clit and rubbing light, fast circles around it until you began to feel the familiar pressure building in your lower abdomen.

“Yes! Bucky! Fuck. Just like that, don’t stop!” you cried, desperate to reach your climax. The carpet scraped against your skin, sure to leave burns after. But you didn’t care. The only thing you cared about was the delicious stretch of your cunt around Bucky’s cock and your imminent orgasm.

“That’s it, baby. Say my fucking name again. Say my name as you cum all around me.”

You chanted his name over and over again, Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, until finally you were approaching the edge and falling over. Your body shuddered and hips bucked as you came, loving the feeling of every hard ridge of Bucky’s thick cock inside of you. A few seconds late, he was pulling out of you and then you felt the warm streams of cum splashing across your ass. You collapsed fully onto the carpet below you, Bucky falling after you and rolling to lay beside you. You laid there, in post-orgasmic bliss. The feeling of Bucky’s fingertips trailing up and down your spine soothing you down from your high. After a little while, the two of your stood up and began to redress. Bucky, ever the gentleman, told you to wait as he ran to the front counter and came back with some tissues before wiping up the mess he had made on your ass.

Once you were both dressed, you finished closing up the store. Neither of you spoke, instead choosing to spare the other furtive little glances as you turned out the lights and locked the door behind you both.

“Looks like the diner is still open. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” Bucky asked, looking down at you giving you a small, shy smile that you’d never seen on him before.

His question caught you off guard. He wanted to buy you coffee. “Oh, Bucky. You don’t have to feel obligated to—”

“—I don’t feel obligated. I, um, I want to.” He swallowed thickly, almost as if he was nervous. Was he nervous? “I know we just, well, I know we skipped a few steps, but I actually do want to take you out. I’ve been trying to hint it to you for the past three months.”

“So, all the flirting with the customers…?”

“Was me stupidly trying to make you jealous,” laughed Bucky, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets.

“Ah,” you said, a smiling spreading across your face, “How about you buy me a coffee and tell me all your thoughts on Brontë.”

“How much time do you have?” asked Bucky with an exaggerated groan.

Holding your hand out to him, you reveled in the feel of his warm palm connecting with yours, “All the time in the world.”

Marvel Taglist:

@caffiend-queen

@hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

#jbbuckybarnesBirthdayChallenge #fanfic #fanfiction #bookstoreau #smut #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #marvel

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pbandjesse · 3 years

Text

Im currently playing DND with James and all the friends. But I hate how this always happens where we say well stop at a certain time and now its gone on 40 minutes longer and Im tired and hungry and I just feel like my time isnt being respected and like if this was not a work night I wouldnt care as much but I just. Feel so mad right now and its making me not even able to enjoy the game. I just want to take a shower and get in bed. And like. I know I wont be able to fall asleep for hours. So this just makes me feel worse.

Its hard to think about the nice parts of the day. Cause it wasnt a bad day at all. Im just tired. I didnt sleep good again. I dont know if its stress or what. But its not fun.

I woke up today in an alright mood. I wanted to like. Just keep sleeping. But I got up. My chest was hurting but I was doing alright. I got washed and dressed. I didnt love my outfit and changed a few times. It is becoming harder to make outfits with just black bottoms. Which is annoying. I dont like that my favorite color clothing is being tainted by work.

Because I slept in a little later I only had an hour to do anything. I did put some stuff away and I did a silly digital drawing project for a video. I watched a video and had a bagel. I was in a good mood besides the rain.

It was a gross and rainy day. I wore my new windbreaker thing and had a nice walk over to the site. And today was a pretty alright day. One of the women I really enjoyed from my last site started working at our site. So that was nice.

I spent some time making pieces out of construction paper to make pizzas to explain to the kids what it means to be an ingredient and what it means to make things from ingredients. And that ended up being a really fun little project. I had a good time leading that.

I actually was really proud of myself today with the pizza project and I also lead the kids in an improve story telling game that went on for almost 45 minutes. I would ask different kids for a place, a character, and an action and then we go around the room telling the next parts of the story. We had aliens and monsters and skeletons. We had ex cons and redemption and fighting and a princess on a diplomatic journey. It was a lot of fun actually.

But there was also a lot of yelling? A lot of crying? I dont know why Wednesdays are so terrible but it keeps happening. And its just exhausting.

And now I am being told that this site is planning on us being there through June 15th?? Excuse me?? I did not sign up for that. I will stay to the end of may at the latest. But really I thought we were done at the begining of may. So I am just. Not feeling happy about it. I want to work on selling my plushies for a little bit before the summer. And I just feel like both being taken advantage of and being forced into something I wasnt prepared for.

I had some fun parts of the later half of the day when I just read to the kids for a while. I read like 5 books?? They all seemed to have a good time.

Most of the kids left before 5. And then our last 2 kids got picked up pretty soon after that. I got to leave here at 530 and the rain wasnt coming down hard.

I got home and heated up my leftover chipolte. I rested on the couch and was feeling a little overwlemed that we were playing DND tonight.

I laid down in the studio and got myself set up for the game. And the game was really fun for the first few hours. But I wanted to be done at 10. We played from 7 until literally 5 minutes ago at 11pm. And like. I have been writing this for a half hour now. It was to much. And Im trying not to be upset because I know a lot of this was I was planning on eating something when we were done and we dont get good service in the kitchen so I kept being like. Well be done soon. But I knew we werent going to be. And finally at 1030 I was like. Fuck it and went and had peanutbutter crackers and just got really quiet on the call. I had fun for the most part. Got to cast some spells. But Im tired and I just dont feel all that great right now.

Im going to go wash my face and lay down. I hope you all have a good night. Take care of yourselves.

3 notes · View notes

jaskiers-sweetkiss · 4 years

Text

Bombshell [B. Barnes] - 2

Pairing: British SHIELD Agent!Reader x Bucky Barnes

Warnings: swearing, (legal) alcohol consumption, explosions, memory loss, mentions of past trauma, mentions of death

Work Count: 5.8K

See end for Author’s Notes.

Masterlist Previous Part

___

"Agent Y/L/N, what's your status?" the concerned voice crackled over the coms. "Y/L/N check in."

You huffed, rolling your eyes as you took out a guard.

"Jesus Rogers, we split up less than two minutes ago. I'm fine."

"I'm sorry for being concerned," Steve muttered sarcastically under his breath, the coms barely picked it up and you bit back a laugh, trying to remain stealthy.

You peaked your head around the corner, peering into the large room before you to ensure that it was empty. Once you were sure it was clear, you made your way around what appeared to be a storage room, checking for any objects of importance or secret passageways. As you cleared each wall, you made sure to slap a small disk to each one.

"Y/N, we're at the quinjet, what's your status?" Natasha came over the coms.

"Just finishing up down here Nat," you replied lightly, making your way back to the stairs, slapping a few more disks in the hallway for good measure. "Who's 'we'?"

"Steve and me."

You sighed, equal parts worried and relieved. "Wilson, what's your position?"

"Couple Nazis on the roof, I've got it covered," Sam responded with a grunt.

"Take them out quickly, please," you ordered, holding your position on the stairs. "I'm activating the bombs and we'll only have a couple of minutes to get out of here."

"Yes ma'am," Sam answered, and you almost thought you could hear him mock salute you, "Will you have enough time?"

"What do you take me for?" You gasped, offended, "an amateur?"

Sam barked out a laugh and you couldn't help but smile in response.

"Nazis down." He announced over the coms. "Commence explosions."

"With pleasure," you smirked, pressing the button on the activator. "T-minus five minutes to detonation." You announced, running up the stairs. "Nat?"

"We're in position." The redhead affirmed over coms and you ran harder, making sure to press the button on each floor to activate the bombs you had placed on your way to the basement.

You had about two minutes to spare by the time you reached the roof, pushing yourself harder as you sprinted up the quinjet ramp.

"Go!" You barked out, Nat immediately pulling the jet off the roof and into the sky, the ramp not even closed.

"I... am going... to kill... Stark." You panted, doubled over as you tried to catch your breath. You could hear the explosions in the distance as the building beneath you was destroyed. "Honestly... would it kill him... to make longer-ranged bombs?"

"Well, to be fair, we've never had an explosives expert on the team before." Steve defended only to be met with a glare.

"That's no excuse." You glowered. "They had better bombs in World War Two and you know it!"

You had seen some of them yourself in Tripp's suitcase of Howling Commandos gadgets that he got from his grandfather. They may have been bigger and a pain in the ass to set, but at least they gave an adequate amount of time to get to safety.

As if he could hear your thoughts, Steve echoed the same sentiment,

"These ones are a helluva lot easier to set." He argued, tossing one of the round explosives in one hand.

"Rogers, you idiot." You snapped, snatching the bomb out of the air before he could catch it again. "This is a bomb, not a toy!"

Steve had the gall to smile while you scolded him. "Jesus, that is not something I should have to say to someone who is nearly one-hundred-years-old."

"Relax, Y/N, it's not like it's gonna explode." The super-soldier placed a hand on your shoulder and you scowled up at him.

"It very well could!" You knew that he was right, the explosive was stable and could only be activated with the remote, however, now the argument was about principle. "Who's the explosives expert here, hm?"

"How did a history major become an expert in blowing things up?" Sam asked curiously, breaking up your petty argument.

"Well, I've been exploding things since I was a little girl," you began, making a show of putting the bomb back into its designated case before plopping down into one of the many seats lining the interior of the quinjet. "My dad was a science teacher and we used to do all kinds of experiments together. Coke and Mentos, baking soda volcanos, film canister rockets- the works."

You sighed happily, though Sam and Steve didn't miss the sad look in your eyes that was always present when you talked about your family.

"I sort of naturally drifted towards real explosives after SHIELD recruited me." You shrugged and Sam nodded understandably, but Steve was staring at you as if you had just told him the moon was orange.

"What happens when you mix Coke and Mentos?" He asked warily and yours and Sam's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Y-you don't know?" Sam spluttered out through his shock.

Steve shook his head slowly, looking even more alarmed by your response to his question.

"Oh, Stevie, we are going to have so much fun when we get back." You grinned already choosing which of Tony's labs you would be hijacking.

___

"So what did you do for fun when you were a kid?" You asked as you sat on the floor of one of the many Stark labs at the Tower.

A soda-covered tarp sat abandoned nearby and you and Steve were surrounded by nearly-empty two-liters of Coke. After touching back down in New York, you immediately ran out to buy the soda and mints necessary for the classic experiment. You had a hypothesis that Steve might want to repeat the explosion more than once, a hypothesis that the man readily proved correct. Now you sat facing each other, steadily drinking your way through the flat soda left in the bottom of the plastic bottles because you had insisted it was "tradition."

"Well, my ma and I were pretty poor, even before the Depression hit." Steve began, taking a swig of the nearest two-liter and grimacing slightly at the taste of slightly-minty flat Coke. "We couldn't afford to go out much, so we made do with what we had at home. I remember I spent about a week drawing playing cards when our deck fell apart. I used to draw a lot back then."

You recognized the look of mixed nostalgia and grief in Steve's eyes as he spoke about the past; it was a look you were intimately familiar with yourself.

"When Bucky and I moved in together after my ma passed he'd let me sketch him while he cooked or baked in the kitchen." Steve smiled, a faraway look in his eyes as he recounted the past.

"You never helped out?" You asked, teasing lacing your voice.

"Nah," Steve laughed. "I was hopeless in the kitchen, still kinda am. After I nearly burnt down the kitchen twice Buck stopped letting me anywhere near the stove."

You smiled, thoroughly enjoying Steve's storytelling. He seemed at ease in that moment, completely relaxed and open, something rare for Captain America. The wheels began to turn in your own head when he brought up his childhood best friend, now a fugitive with spotty memories of his own past.

"What were his favorite things to make?" You asked and Steve grinned, though it was so natural you weren’t even sure he realized he was doing it.

"I was too sick to work back then, and with only one source of income we were still pretty disadvantaged, but on special occasions, Bucky would make this baked apple pudding that was divine."

"Divine, huh?" You giggled, tucking that information away. "I wish I could've tried it."

"I actually might still have the recipe." Steve perked up at the thought and you stared at him, puzzled.

"How do you still have a recipe from the thirties?"

"When I went into the ice the SSR boxed up everything in my apartment for 'records.' When I woke up SHIELD gave them all back to me." The blond downed the last of the flat soda and jumped to his feet, practically buzzing in excitement. "C'mon let's go look for it!"

"Slow down there, cowboy." You held out a cautionary hand before gesturing at the lab. "We have to clean all this up first so Stark doesn't kill us."

Steve groaned but relented and you spent the next fifteen minutes making sure Tony would never know they had exploded soda in his "state-of-the-art, high-tech labs."

___

"Sergeant Barnes, it's Agent Y/L/N. I'm coming in." You announced into the speaker, the door beside it unlocking with a click as the technology recognized your voice.

The cabin was dark when you entered but before you could reach out to flip the light switch next to the door you were pinned to the wall, grocery bags falling to the floor.

You couldn't help the gasp that escaped your lips though you made sure to control your breathing the way you were trained to. You knew what to do in this situation but needed to remain calm to do it. The arm pressing across the top of your chest made it difficult to breathe steadily, but you were able to manage after a minute of focusing on remaining still and slowing your heart rate.

"Sergeant Barnes." You managed to get out, your voice a bit raspy albeit steady.

The man growled at the name and said something in Russian that you couldn't understand.

"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes." You began again. "You were a Sergeant of the one-hundred-and-seventh division in World War Two. On a mission to intercept an enemy transport, you were injured and captured by Hydra. Hydra experimented on you and brainwashed you."

You could feel the muscles in the arm relax, though the man wasn't close to removing it just yet, so you continued.

"I am Agent Y/N Y/L/N. Three months ago we met in Washington D.C. and I brought you to this safe house. Every week since then I have come here to check in on you and bring you groceries."

This wasn't the first time you had been met with the Winter Soldier when you arrived at the safehouse and you had had to quickly learn how to bring Sergeant Barnes back. You had found the Soldier responded best to facts, and so you would lay out the facts that led Barnes to that moment in the most even and calm voice you could, allowing the Soldier to stand down and Barnes to come through.

"You are not the Winter Soldier, Sergeant Barnes." You reminded him evenly, and after a moment you felt the man relax entirely and stager quickly away from you.

"Agent Y/L/N, I'm so sorry." He gasped, voice ragged as he quickly worked to pick up the groceries that had fallen out of their bags when you had dropped them.

"It's quite alright, Sergeant Barnes. I know that wasn't you."

It was easy to say because you believed it, though you hadn't always. When you had initially brought Barnes to the abandoned SHIELD safehouse it had been to monitor him to see how much of him overlapped with his assassin alter ego. After about a month of observation, you had found that there was no overlap between the two, other than the fact that Barnes held the Soldier's memories. Hydra had tried to erase everything that made James Buchanan Barnes the man he was when creating their super-powered assassin.

"What's all this?" Barnes asked quietly, starring perplexed at the groceries, particularly the bag full of baking supplies.

"I thought you and I might bake something together," you said, trying not to give away your entire plan.

You had hoped to jog the man's memories a bit however you wanted to avoid accidentally planting false memories.

"I... I think I would like that?" The man said, though it came out more like a question as he still wasn't really sure what he did and didn't like anymore.

You smiled reassuringly. "Well then, lets hop to it!"

You worked quickly to put away the rest of the groceries before you laid out the ingredients for your bake on the counter.

"First and foremost those apples are going to need to be peeled and chopped," You said, nodding towards the apples as you held out a knife to the man beside you.

The two of you stood just like that for a moment, you with your arm holding out the knife and Barnes not taking it from you before you finally looked over at the man.

"What's the matter, Sergeant Barnes?" You asked, your accent clipped with concern.

"I can't be trusted." He said softly, and you almost missed it.

"Really now, Barnes, would I be trying to give you a knife if I thought you would hurt me?" You tried to reason, hoping you were doing enough to quell his anxieties. "I trust you, Sergeant Barnes, even if you don't trust yourself."

"James." He spoke so quietly that you weren’t sure if he had even spoken at all.

"What was that?"

"James," He repeated, more confidently this time. "You can call me James."

He wasn't sure why he had said it. From what he could remember, he hated the name James, everybody had called him Bucky. You were confused by it as well. You had never once heard Steve refer to him as James, always Buck or Bucky. Regardless, a first-name basis was a step in the right direction and you would take it.

"Alright then, James," you smiled at the man, "Those apples aren't going to cut themselves."

"Yes ma'am!" He joked as he finally took the knife from your hand, seeming to surprise himself as much as he surprised you and you smiled even wider.

You worked in mostly silence, the kitchen filled only with the sounds of your labor and James giving instructions- you had given him the recipe right away, hoping it would spark some memories. He didn't tell you if it had, but he moved through the kitchen with an ease and comfort you had yet to see from the man. You thought maybe he didn't realize; that he was having a subconscious reaction to being back in the kitchen, baking something that had at one point held such significance to him.

"Alright, Stevie, desserts in the oven, whaddya want for dinner?" James asked, his back to you as he rifled through the fridge. As soon as the words left his mouth he paused, slumping inwards on himself.

"James?" You asked softly, cautiously stepping towards the man.

"I- I remembered something." He said brokenly, and you decided it was safe to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"Steve- I- we used to live together, I think," James spoke, gripping the fridge door tightly in an attempt to support himself. "I- I used to bake this for him, I- where did you get this recipe?"

His voice had turned somewhat hostile with the last question but you stood your ground, not stepping back from the man in front of you.

"Steve gave it to me," you said softly, hoping he could hear the honesty in your voice, "He told me how you used to make it for him."

"Is he- does he know I'm here?" James asked as he turned around to face you, eyes and voice filled with panic.

"No, and I won't tell him until you tell me you're ready."

"Thank you, Agent Y/L/N."

"It's Y/N." You smiled kindly, "Now, what should we have for dinner?"

___

"This mean anything to you?" You asked, eyebrow raised inquisitively as you set the old paper down in front of Skye.

"Where did you get this?" The agent gasped, breezing past the fact that no one was supposed to know what she had been working on.

It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for you, nearly everyone at SHIELD seemed to think you knew more than you did.

"The Avengers brought me along on a Hydra raid. Found that in the basement of the warehouse, thought it looked familiar." You pointed to the worn parchment laid out on the table.

It was covered in an interlocking series of lines and circles that you didn't understand but you had seen Skye working on something similar in the past months.

"Does anyone know you have this?"

"Nope." You answered, a sly grin on your face. "Nabbed it before I left and then blew up the entire building, so Hydra won't know it’s missing either."

"What do you know about it?" Skye asked, seeming to have realized that this was supposed to be between her and Coulson.

"Nothing, other than that Coulson's had you working on it in secret for a few months now," you answered honestly. "You have to be a little quicker when closing down the holoscreen." You added when you noticed Skye's confusion.

"Noted," Skye responded dryly. "Well, thank you for the old parchment but I can't tell you anything else."

"I didn't expect you to," you smiled before asking, "How about something you can talk about? Like what happened with Browning?"

"Hunter's still pissed we've been shadowing them," Skye smirked and you laughed, not even slightly surprised. The mercenary was more a fan of his paychecks than of SHIELD's protocols. "But an enhanced took out Browning before we could get to him. We're pretty sure he's with Hydra which means they're after the 0-8-4 too."

"Big surprise there," you sighed, the world may think Hydra is gone but you knew the truth: they were just biding their time in the shadows once again.

"So when do we go out to collect it before they can?" You asked curiously, having been off base when the first mission had occurred and Coulson wasn't exactly accepting visitors to his office.

"As soon as we figure out where the government is keeping it." Skye sighed and you groaned. The US Government, or more specifically General Talbot, had been making SHIELD's operations even more difficult lately.

"Is he in the lab?" You asked, changing the subject.

"He's barely left, he's working on the samples we collected from the enhanced right now."

You frowned but nodded in thanks to the agent before making your way towards the lab.

Fitz hadn't been doing much better, he was still struggling to come up with words and his hands were still shaky. Additionally, he seemed to be talking to himself, or rather, a version of Simmons he had conjured up for himself. In your downtime on the base, you found herself just sitting in the lab, an option for Fitz to talk to if he wanted but you always brought a book or something to occupy yourself if not. Today you were sitting on the floor, leaning against a lab station while reading Rob Chernow's biography Alexander Hamilton.

"Uhh, Y-Y/N," Fitz began to panic, waving his hand wildly to get your attention.

"What is it?" You asked worriedly, quickly getting to your feet to stand next to the scientist.

"Y-you see that too, right?"

You did see. The metal samples Fitz had been analyzing had begun to ooze with a red liquid.

"Is that... blood?" You asked, face contorted in disgust and slight fascination.

Before Fitz could answer, the two of you watched as the pieces of metal turned into what appeared to be human flesh.

"What the hell?" You muttered under your breath while Fitz relaxed beside you.

"This is good, I mean- weird, but I can-" Fitz stuttered out tensing up once again and shaking his hand as he tried to come up with the words, looking over his shoulder as if looking to someone else for the answer.

"Figure out who's blood it is?" You supplied and Fitz nodded.

"Shouldn't be too hard." He affirmed quietly under his breath as if he needed to convince himself.

"Well you've got my help regardless," You smiled and Fitz nodded lightly before doling out instructions.

It wasn't the first time you had served as Fitz's hands in the lab and you fully intended to offer your services as long as he still needed them. Working together it took you about an hour to analyze the sample and search the various world DNA databases for a match, eventually finding one in SHIELD's own database.

"Carl Creel?" Fitz read the name out loud as you both peered at the monitor.

"We crossed him off the Index?" You asked skeptically, it wasn't uncommon for SHIELD to take out potentially dangerous enhanced individuals in the past, but clearly they hadn't done a very good job with Creel.

You pondered how SHIELD could've been so careless when Fitz pointed to the supervising agent listed on the report.

"Of course it was Garrett," you sighed. "We should get this to Coulson."

___

"Why am I here Maria?" You asked harshly, arms crossed as you stared at the woman. "I could've been helping Coulson."

"I get that you want to help, Y/N, but you still work here and you have to keep up appearances," Maria said firmly, ignoring her friend's scowl. "If you really want to help SHIELD, you'll keep your cover intact."

You rolled your eyes but you knew Maria was right. If you spent too much time away from the Tower the Avengers would get suspicious and they couldn't know that Coulson or SHIELD were still alive.

"Plus, you know you can't get involved with Talbot."

You rolled her eyes again.

"Why does it matter Mar? He clearly saw us both when we crossed his team at Providence. Why does it matter if he sees me with SHIELD again?"

"Y/N, you and I both know why it matters, you're just being stubborn. As far as the world is concerned, SHIELD is a terrorist group and if you're associated with them-"

"It'll bring a lot of bad PR to the Avengers and I'll have to step down from both organizations to protect them." You finished for her, sighing frustratedly. "I know, Maria, I just hate it."

"Go blow off some steam, hang out with the team, whatever you need to do," Maria instructed in the motherly tone she had used when she was your SO. "There's a classified mission on the books to explain your absence."

As if summoned, Sam walked into the conference room moments after Maria had finished speaking.

"Hey! Y/N is back!" He exclaimed, a grin on his face. "Where ya been?"

"That, my friend, is classified," you answered with a sly smirk before turning to Maria in order to keep up appearances, "Am I finished with my debrief, Agent Hill?"

"You're free to go, Agent Y/L/N," Maria confirmed before turning to Sam, "Next time, knock before you burst into occupied meeting rooms, Mr. Wilson."

"You could just lock the door," Sam shot back but retracted it when he was met with Maria's no-nonsense glare. "Yes ma'am, I'll knock next time."

You did your best to hold back your laughter at the interaction until you and Sam had left the room. You immediately erupted into giggles and Sam groaned.

"I don't know why you guys even bother with all that 'Agent Hill' 'Agent Y/L/N' crap." He said, trying to turn the tables on you as you boarded the elevator. "We all know you're friends, it's so unnecessary."

"It's about professionalism, Sam," you answered, smirking. "I know you don't get it because the Avengers lack any sense of professionalism whatsoever but-"

"Hey! I take great offense to that!" A voice yelped from behind you and you turned to see that Tony was on the elevator as well.

"Oh please, Stark, you're the worst perpetrator of unprofessionalism." You pointed out and Sam snorted.

"I'm not the one who exploded coke all over one of the labs with Rogers last week," Tony shot back and you flushed.

"That was on our off time and we cleaned it up!" You protested, "How'd you even find out about that?"

"You think I don't have surveillance in my labs?"

"Wait you guys did the Coke and Mentos without me?" Sam whined right as the elevator doors opened on the gym floor.

"Oh, look at that, this is my floor," you said, rushing off the elevator to escape your friend's inevitable wrath for leaving him out of the childish experiment.

"No way, Y/L/N, you're not getting off that easy," Sam followed you and you broke into a run.

You sprinted down the hallway towards the gym doors, Sam hot on your heels.

"Steve! Nat! Help!" You squealed as you burst through the double doors, darting behind Steve's tall frame as he stood in front of a punching bag.

"Get back here, Y/L/N!" Sam yelled as he ran through the doors, still swinging from your entrance.

"What's this about, Sam?" Steve asked in mock seriousness as the man stalked towards them.

"Oh good Rogers, you're here too," Sam said and Steve had the mind to look alarmed right before Sam landed a hit on the super soldier's arm.

"Sam! What the hell was that for?"

"You guys blew up pop without me!"

"I didn't know you were supposed to do it with us!" Steve protested and the pair went silent for a moment.

Then you found herself struggling in Steve's arms as he turned on you.

"Steve! Let me go!" You gasped.

"Tell Sam you're sorry," Steve instructed, and you bit back a laugh, schooling your face into one of determination.

"Never!" You yelled, using your years of training to maneuver out of Steve's grip and using his weight to your advantage to flip him to the ground, his back landing hitting the mat below them with a thud.

Natasha let out a whoop from the other side of the gym where she had been silently observing. "That's my girl!"

You shot the redhead a grin as you took up a defensive stance. "Try me, Wilson." you dared.

Sam looked between the British agent and the blond supersoldier who was still lying between the mat before standing down.

"Nah," he shook his head, "Just invite me next time."

You snorted but agreed.

"Hey Y/N, wanna spar?" Nat called from the other side of the gym where she was already wrapping her fists.

"Sure," you answered with a laugh, "I love getting my ass kicked by former Soviet operatives."

Sam, Steve, and Nat all laughed and you flipped them off mockingly as you walked to the locker room to change out of your work clothes.

___

"I got here as soon as I could," you said sadly as you knelt next to Skye.

You were in Hartley's room and Skye was packing up the agent's belongings.

"How's everyone holding up?"

"I think we're all compartmentalizing," Skye sighed, folding up a piece of clothing and placing it in the suitcase. "Coulson won't mourn until we find out if Hunter snitched, and Mack and Tripp are putting all their efforts into reverse-engineering the quinjet's cloaking."

You had to remind yourself to take a deep breath to stop yourself from going off about the cloaking. You were less than thrilled with how Coulson, and truly the rest of the team, had been handling Fitz since the accident, and now they had gone ahead and found a cloaking solution even though Fitz had been working on one for months. You knew the organization desperately needed it, but you thought Coulson could've at least brought Fitz on to what they were doing instead of keeping him in the dark. But now wasn't time to get into that debate, now was the time to mourn Hartley and Idaho.

You helped Skye pack up the rest of Hartley's belongings until you were joined by Hunter, who had apparently decided not to betray SHIELD. You gave the two of them space, heading to the lab instead. Your presence there had started as a way to comfort Fitz, but at some point, the grey tiles and sterile surfaces had become something of a comfort to yourself. You had planned to just sit in a corner and stew in your emotions, maybe text Nat or Steve or Sam, but when you approached Mack was there talking to Fitz. You stood in the doorway, not wanting to enter the room and interrupt whatever they were doing. It was rare for other team members to seek out Fitz in the lab, everyone was too afraid of what they'd find.

You watched as Fitz handed Mack a file, the taller agent looking them over.

"I didn't solve this today." Fitz blurted but instead of wincing or pointedly looking anywhere but at the man, Mack looked up from the files to look the scientist in the eyes.

"You think you can?"

You cursed yourself as you let an excited gasp escape you. It immediately drew the two men's attention and the atmosphere of the lab changed.

"Y/N," Mack acknowledged and Fitz looked down shyly.

"I was just coming here for some peace, but I'd love to help," you explained your eavesdropping sheepishly.

"I think we could use the extra hands." Mack smiled and you grinned, stepping into the lab.

"What're we looking at?" You asked, stepping forward to look at the file that was now placed on one of the many lab tables.

It wasn't long before you had a cluster of lab techs gathered around the three of you as Fitz doled out instructions.

"It's about the.. the resonant," Fitz explained, though it was clear that none of the techs quite knew what he meant by the way their eyes flitted between you and Mack for help.

Fitz noticed the looks and you frowned as he clutched the wires he had been holding closer to his chest. "I didn't solve this today."

"So, what is this?" Mack asked, holding up another object that you didn't recognize. "Is this some sort of sonic device? Like the cloaking?"

You watched as the two men grew increasingly frustrated with each other.

"No, I- ugh, I didn't-" Fitz fumbled, his tone becoming more helpless as he continued to be misunderstood.

"Sorry, forget the cloaking." Mack waved it off and you glared at the techs as they exchanged wary looks. "No one blames you for that, let's just focus on Creel."

You yelped slightly as Fitz threw the papers off the lab table they'd been working at and Mack yelled for him to calm down.

"Get. out." You growled at the techs as they exchanged another look when Fitz turned his back to the group. They scampered off and Fitz turned back around to face them.

Okay." He said, taking a deep breath.

"Take it easy," Mack told the man and you frowned as you saw Fitz become visibly upset again.

'Look, I didn't solve this today!" He exclaimed and Mack matched his frustrations.

"Yeah, I know! You've said that already!" He yelled back.

"No!" Fitz exclaimed, "I didn't solve this today."

Mack looked like he was about to blow his top but you finally made the connection.

"You mean you've solved this before?" You asked him eagerly, eyes alight with the realization.

Fitz nodded excitedly, his posture relaxing slightly now that he had gotten his point across.

"Wait, you mean this is an old design?" Mack asked

"Yes! Yes!" Fitz said and you reached for a tablet, pulling up the designs from the past year.

"Okay, we're with you, Turbo," Mack said as they gathered around the tablet.

You began to flip through the designs, a few of which you recognized from various SHIELD reports until Fitz stopped you at one called the Overkill Device.

"Let's tell the team." You grinned at Fitz who looked quite proud of himself as he looked over the schematics.

___

"Did you get the 0-8-4?" You asked eagerly as the team filed off the quinjet.

You had been bitter that you weren’t brought in on the mission, especially since it had nothing to do with Talbot or any other government official but you knew you had accomplished something big back on base so you were willing to let it go.

"No," Hunter shook his head, "But we got Creel."

He jerked his thumb behind him a few agents escorted Creel off the Bus. Hunter wore a shit-eating grin and even dared to throw some taunts at the man as he passed them. You knew this was important to him, after what the man did to Hartley and Idaho.

"So Fitz's device worked?" You were thrilled, he needed a win, and this was a big one.

"Worked like a charm!" Hunter answered, taking a break from yelling insults at Creel's back.

"Woah, what the hell happened to Skye, Tripp, and May?" You demanded as the three slowly made their way off the plane with help from Coulson, each of them glaring daggers at Hunter as they passed by. "And Coulson was in the field?"

"A lot happened, I'll fill you in over a beer," Hunter said, making his way into the base and you followed.

You were mostly quiet as they made your way to the kitchen, Hunter grabbing you two bottles from the fridge.

"So what did you do to piss off May, Tripp, and Skye and to get Coulson into the field?" You asked as they sat on the barstools that lined the kitchen island.

"Might've iced them all to get a shot at Creel," Hunter shrugged nonchalantly and you gaped.

"You what?"

"Then Coulson took Creel down with Fitz's device and offered me a job at SHIELD." Hunter continued, speaking like this was just another day at the office for him.

"Hunter, that doesn't make any sense. You shot three of our agents!"

"With ICERS!" Hunter protested, "I wouldn't have killed them!"

You merely raised an eyebrow as if to say "wouldn't you have?"

"Y'know what? I take great offense to that, Y/L/N." Hunter said, using the hand holding his beer to gesture at your face. "I think I'd quite like to drink alone now."

"You're such an ass, Hunter." You laughed, standing up from your stool.

"Funny, that's what my ex-wife told me before we split up." He joked and you rolled your eyes.

"Well, I suppose I'll be seeing you around, Agent Lance Hunter," you smirked at Hunter's grimace and grabbed two more beers from the fridge, carrying them back to the Hanger.

As you expected, the Bus ramp was down and Mack and Fitz were stood inside.

"You look like you could use some refreshments." You joked as you walked up the incline to stand with the two men, handing each one a bottle.

"What's this for?" Mack asked, an easy smile on his face as he accepted the drink.

"To celebrate, of course," you answered, "Without Fitz, we never could've captured Creel, and if Coulson's plans to hand him over to Talbot works we might finally have the military off our asses."

"I'll drink to that," Mack said and you saw Fitz smile, the three of you clinking your bottles together.

___

a/n: Lot’s of jumps in this one. I think I’ve kinda decided that’s how most chapters are going to be- I’ve got a lot of ground to cover between here and endgame and I don’t want this story to drag on too much. Since the story is in Season 2 of Agents of SHIELD right now I think the Avengers parts are going to be a little lighter to balance out the heavier SHIELD moments (Though I did manage to get in an Avengers action scene). That’ll shift once we reach MCU territory. Also, first full Bucky encounter! Let me know what you think!

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mostfacinorous · 4 years

Text

Stoki Whumptober Day 15: Into The Unknown [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12][13][14]

When he was removed from the cell the next day-- or let out, depending on how you looked at it, he had managed to get himself back to a state of being reasonably well put together.

“So I uh-- heard you didn’t sleep so great. Sorry about that. I had forgotten that Jarvis has problems when I ask him to monitor Thor’s vitals, too.”

Loki flapped his hand dismissively at Stark’s apology; he didn’t feel like going into the fact that his baseline would be wildly different from even Thor’s. It didn’t matter much.

“How is the Captain?” He asked instead.

Stark hummed.

“Seems fine now-- that was a pretty wild treatment, though, so I think it’d be good to keep an eye on him.”

He held the door open to allow Loki to board the elevator.

“We got breakfast delivered, so I imagine he’ll be there-- and Barnes, too.” Stark looked wary, and Loki wondered what part of the gathering caused that.

He found it odd that Stark seemed suddenly at ease around him, but perhaps his performance with Rogers the night before, and his relative lack of ill-will after being nearly roasted by his machine had given him some sense of confidence in Loki’s intentions.

Bold of him to assume that Loki’s goodwill extended to him. But then again, all of his windows were thus far intact, so perhaps there was some small basis for it. It wasn’t a high bar to clear.

“You seem… somewhat less than enthused about breakfast.” Loki offered it as an observation, but it was a question, ever so delicate, probing gently to learn more about these people he’d fought so often. He’d certainly never been allowed this close before, into their home. Or, home-base, at least. He knew Rogers had a place of his own, outside of the tower.

Stark lifted one shoulder listlessly. But before he had a chance to elaborate, the elevator announced their arrival with a cheerful ping and the doors slid open onto a scene of surprising domesticity.

The Avengers were gathered around the table, shy only Stark and alongside Barnes and a woman that Loki only knew peripherally as Pepper Potts, Stark’s good half.

“So, now we’re all here-- good morning everyone--” Stark began, but was interrupted by Barnes snorting.

“It’s after noon.” Banner pointed out, clearly amused, and Loki blinked. He must have slept longer than he’d thought, to compensate for the heat and his efforts the day prior.

“Well, yeah, okay. After noon. Happy brunch. Point is-- Loki. Steve. James Barnes-- what are we calling you these days? Bucky?”

Stark’s edgy energy was back, and Loki realized it was centered around the Soldier. Fascinating, that Stark was literally more at ease with Loki at his back than with Barnes at his table.

“James is probably fine.” He said mildly, buttering some toast and casually avoiding eye contact.

Rogers, too, seemed unsurprised but on guard.

Interesting. And charming. A crack in their united front, and Loki wasn’t even the cause. He ought to be offended, he supposed. Instead, he was merely amused.

“Right. So. James… after you stopped in on Loki last night, did you notice anything… weird?”

Rogers looked thoroughly confused-- Loki wondered at that. Had Barnes not told him about his stepping in? Loki would think he would-- to curry favor, prove himself as a good person, if nothing else.

Barnes sat his toast down, only a single bite taken from it.

“Define weird.” He said slowly, almost like the words were a threat.

“Your arm.” Stark said, clearly trying not to sound eager and coming off as smug instead. “I got your message after you were asleep, and asked Jarvis to run a scan, make sure Loki didn’t do anything to you.”

Loki felt his mouth falling open to protest, and, without looking, Stark held up his hand to stop him speaking.

“Your arm has some weird stuff going on with it, but it doesn’t match Loki’s power signature. And last night, it started flaring up. So, did you notice anything weird?”

“You’re asking if I noticed anything weird with my arm while I was asleep?” Barnes reiterated, speaking slowly, as if he was becoming more and more convinced that Stark was an idiot. “No. Because I was asleep.”

“Hang on, why were you scanning him in his sleep?” Rogers demanded. “And why would you visit Loki?”

“To have a chat, Steve, why else do people go see one another?” Barnes snapped back. “Anyway, it didn’t matter, because when I got there, Stark’s robot was in the process of frying the guy’s brain, so…” Barnes trailed off with a sharp glance in Stark’s direction.

Rogers whipped his head around, glaring at Stark who raised his hands defensively. “Loki?” He asked firmly, turning his eyes on him next. “Are you alright?”

“I should be asking the same of you, though your voice is much improved. In fairness, Stark’s machine was concerned because my vital readings did not match that of humans. No harm was intended.” Loki spoke mildly and strode forward to take a seat directly across from Barnes. “But tell me more about this ‘weirdness’. Do you suppose it’s related to the time stone?”

He helped himself to some bread and jam, and began to paint the latter across the former, performatively, of course-- a show of unconcern.

When he glanced up, though, it was his turn to receive the full weight of Barnes’ glare.

“Time stone?” The widow asked sharply.

“Oh. I’m sorry-- did they not know?” Loki asked, pretending at surprise.

“Is there a magical artifact in my house, and you didn’t tell me?” Stark demanded.

Banner stood.

“I’m sorry, I’m gonna excuse myself. Ah-- Pepper, can you update me or give me a call if I’m needed?”

“Of course.” She said smoothly, watching him go then turning her eyes back to Rogers and Barnes, who looked both cornered and uncomfortable.

Loki took a bite of his toast.

“Look, as much as I’m not excited about having the time stone here, I think we’re burying the lede. What weird stuff did Jarvis pick up, Tony?” the Hawk spoke up, having held his peace and just made faces for a bit, but, as ever, keeping his eye on the big picture. Loki shot him an appreciative glance.

“Like I said, it started flaring up-- and with the time stone present-- I assume you have it stored in the arm?” Stark asked pointedly, his gaze dropping to Barnes’ shirt sleeve covered prosthetic.

He pushed the sleeve up and opened a compartment, revealing the time stone, glowing a soft green.

To Loki’s eyes, it was pulsing, however faintly, but that wasn’t the real concern.

“It’s corrupting the metal. Or-- the metal is absorbing it?” He murmured, surprised and enthralled. “I’ve never seen something like that happen before.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, at the same time as Barnes snapped “It’s what?”

“Jarvis?” The Widow asked, standing to come closer.

“The stone is emitting a low level of power. I can confirm that the metal of Sergaent Barnes’s arm is absorbing it. It is, however, also releasing it back and amplifying the power in the stone’s direction at a .20 percent increase from the original radiation.”

Loki nodded.

“The pulsing-- the arm is absorbing the power, storing it, and then releasing it back stronger. This, in turn, overflows the limits of the stone-- causing it to release more.”

Barnes immediately plucked the stone from the compartment with his flesh hand.

“That’s all well and good,” Loki said, “but that leaves us with one problem: we’ll need to draw the power out of your arm.”

Rogers looked to him. “Can you do that?”

“I can.” Loki said. “I cannot guarantee there will not be lingering effects, but the excess we can draw out. Only, I will need to do something with it.”

Loki turned to look at Stark.

“Are you capable of building some sort of containment for it?”

“I don’t even know what ‘it’ is, that’s a power source unlike any we’ve seen before.”

“And the longer it stays within the cavity of Barnes’s arm, the more it grows.” Loki said calmly, then sighed.

“I can… try to ground it, or disperse it, but until I try, until I have it in my hands, I will have little idea as to the best way. Is there a safe place that Barnes and I may go to try and mitigate any damage we may cause?”

Loki saw Barnes narrow his eyes, and it did not escape him the way his flesh fist clenched all the tighter around the stone.

“I have the space upstate-- pretty isolated, big plot of land. That should be safest. I’m going with you, of course-- I gotta see this. And I doubt Steve’s gonna want to stay behind.”

“Nope.” Rogers responded quickly.

“We’ll hold down the fort here.” The widow responded, clearly not needing to ask the hawk how he felt about such exercises. Loki nodded in acknowledgement.

“To upstate, then.”

---

The upstate facility seemed to be somewhat more like a hangar than a tower, which Loki was grateful for. Less to fall on them, should something go wrong. And Stark insisted it was well built, launching into specifications and logistics than Loki had no interest in and didn’t understand.

Instead, upon arrival, he’d begun arranging a table with chairs for himself and Barnes-- opposite sides, to keep the surface between them. For Barnes’ peace of mind, more than anything else.

Loki settled down and gestured at the table.

“If you’re ready.” He said.

Barnes took his seat, and lay the limb out. Loki had been, admittedly, curious about it, and was finally being allowed his first close up examination of the thing.

“The workmanship is beautiful. Utilitarian, yes, but intricate and graceful all the same.” Loki ran his fingers gently up the edges where he knew the hollow was, able to feel the energy humming beneath his fingertips.

“I don’t need a narration.” Barnes said, sounding uncomfortable and cross, which Loki decided likely translated to scared and trying to hide it.

“Of course.” He answered smoothly.

The panel folded back and away, and he dipped his fingertips into the glowing green pool that had formed in the absence of the time stone.

“Ah.” He said, brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of what it was.

It was cold and hummed, the sensation not unlike being buffeted by a river. But it climbed his arm, and he felt it pulling at him, trying to toss him to or fro, back into the past and forward into the future simultaneously.

He put out a few tendrils of his own power, anchoring himself to the here and now, and urged the energy of the stone up over his fingers, across the back of his hand, and then, as he rolled his wrist, into his palm to pool.

Once he held it and was certain it would not leap forth nor spill through the cracks, he flicked his eyes back to Barnes.

There was no further trace of it there, though the metal sang with the empty echoes of a newly hollow vessel.

“I think you must take care to keep it separate from that metal, going forward. It is… It reacts oddly.”

Indeed, it was vibrating with a movement he was not used to feeling from time related magics. It had become agitated with its constant duplication, and it wanted now to burst free.

He frowned.

He could not put it to ground in such a state; it would merely spread itself out, affecting all it touched.

He could attempt to contain it with his own magics, however, and with any luck they might be able to lock that away in more conventional metals, for study or future use.

This course of action decided upon, Loki called his magics up and through him, pulling from the soles of his feet, though the core of him and down his arm to wrap around the power in his palm.

But in doing so, he made one critical error.

Before the power was contained, Loki became unmoored. And the power was interested only in spreading, now. He felt as it latched on to his power and tried to pull back, but it was no good, and too late.

The power of the stone slid within him, and he felt as time within him lurched, shifted, and changed.

#Stoki Whumptober2020 #Stoki #Frostshield #Capfrost #Steve Rogers #Loki #MCU Fanfic #Whumptober #That Writing Thing I do #I am so excited for tomorrow's installation you guys

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halictus-writer · 4 years

Text

Remus’s Trip to the Grocery Store

notes: 3,582 words. originally posted to ao3 on august 22, 2020.

non-magical, modern au. first meetings, fluff, humor.

told in 5 parts, the first two happen at the same time but are told from different POVs, same for the next two, then part 5 happens only once.

4:26pm – 4:36pm: Remus

Remus grabbed a red grocery cart and pushed it forwards. He didn’t have a lot of items to buy today, since he was really only stopping for tonight’s dinner and tomorrow morning’s coffee, but the choice between lugging around a basket that increased in weight over time or leaning heavily on a cart that helped maintain a personal space buffer was a no-brainer.

He grabbed his list from his back pocket. Once an envelope containing unsolicited credit card advertisements, it was now a neatly folded rectangle bearing thin but neat cursive lettering, with items such as “bread,” “premade salad,” and “fucking caffeine.” In the middle of deciding which items to grab first, Remus looked up and suddenly locked eyes with a worker at the cash register, immediately forgetting the pros and cons of his most-recently proposed efficient shopping route. The worker was strikingly handsome. Remus took in his medium-length dark hair, blue-gray eyes, and prominent facial structure, before also realizing that he himself was (1) staring, (2) caught in the act of staring, as well as (3) blocking other customers from utilizing the easiest navigational pathway between the frozen foods aisle and the produce section: a triple grocery store sin.

Shaking off his stare-induced stupor, Remus returned to the task at hand: buying groceries and going home before rush hour, eating a moderately-healthy dinner, getting into bed at a reasonable hour, and then reading until 3am. As he compared the price per ounce between two different boxes of granola bars, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander back to the worker. They look to be about the same age, he could also be a student at the local university. Remus wonders what his major might be, and if he prefers to sit in the front or the back of lecture halls, or if he ever skips classes altogether. Before he can decide if grocery-store-cashier-boy is a pen-and-pencil note-taker or a laptop note-typer, a woman’s exasperated “excuse me” comes from his side. Realizing he was blocking the cereal section with his cart, Remus made a hasty apology, before mentally cursing his lack of grocery store etiquette. Normally a champion of the unspoken grocery store rules, Remus determines that it must be the boy’s fault for distracting him. Mentally, he cursed him too.

4:26pm – 4:36pm: Sirius

Sirius flicked the switch under the counter, turning off the light above his cash register. He gave a sorry smile to the woman who had been walking towards his lane, basket in hand, before realizing he was temporarily closing the register. Sirius pointed her to his left where Dorcas was finishing a transaction with a mom and two small children. The smaller of the two kept tugging on the mom’s hand, and asking if he could dye his hair all the colors of the rainbow, like Dorcas’s undercut.

“Sure,” the mom said, laughing, “but only once you’re older.”

“I dyed mine years ago, when I turned sixteen,” Dorcas told the little family. “My parents were furious.” She handed the receipt over to the mom with a dramatic flourish, and offered the kids a conspiratorial wink.

“Hey!” Sirius stage-whispered, “stop corrupting the kids with your lesbianism!”

“It’s not like you’re a saint, with your gay-ass rainbow pin!” Dorcas laughed.

“The day I take off this pin is the day I break Effie Potter’s heart,” Sirius declared. “She was so excited to give it to me the day after Planned Parenthood tabled at her work.” Sirius’s voice trailed off at the end when he heard Dorcas return to her customer service voice, asking her next shopper if she had any trouble finding her groceries today. The rainbow pin actually meant a lot to Sirius, as it represented the acceptance and love shown by his adoptive mother, in sharp contrast to the biological mother who threw him out for his “lifestyle choices.” An additional perk of wearing it at work was that he could scan the groceries of complete strangers and not get flirted with. Except for the occasional man who was encouraged by the pin, but Sirius handled those occurrences on more of a case-by-case basis.

Sirius was clocking out for his break on the computer, when he looked up and saw a customer pushing a cart, wearing the thickest sweater he had seen in use all summer, and carrying a real-life paper shopping list. Sirius couldn’t help the small smile that formed on his face at the sight-- the whole combination was too endearing. His eyebrows shot up when the stranger lifted his head and looked right at him: he was gorgeous. In a very sweater-wearing, paper-grocery-store-list-making, probably-falls-asleep-while-reading kind of way, but still, gorgeous. The shopping boy broke eye contact first.

“Break break break break break!” James’s voice crescendoed as he hopped over towards Sirius’s register, before grabbing Sirius and squeezing just under his ribs, making Sirius jump and swat his hands away. Sirius is not ticklish, except for that one spot, which James annoyingly exploits on a daily basis.

James leaned over Sirius to use the computer to clock out as well, officially making them both free of work duties for the next twenty minutes. There was a break room in the back, but James and Sirius preferred to take their breaks at a closed register line, in the middle of the action, so they could continue to distract all of their coworkers. Sirius silently noted that their oddly-extraverted break-taking location would allow for an excellent vantage point, should the sweater-wearing boy want to make any more eye contact.

“So,” James began, drawing out the word. “Are you going to tell me who it is?”

“What are you talking about, James?”

“Who it is.” He repeated. “You keep craning your neck like a tiny little baby giraffe, looking all around the store. It’s precious. It’s endearing. Who are you looking for?”

“What? No one. Also, I’m not short.”

“Sirius. You are a very abnormally short little giraffe. Who is also looking for someone.”

“Oh my god, you are the most annoying person.”

“But I’m also three inches taller than you.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “Dorcas, back me up here.”

Dorcas looked up from weighing a customer’s bag of apples, looked back down to her computer, and said “No.”

James cackled unnecessarily loudly. “It’s one of three options. Number one, you’ve done something wrong and are hiding from the authorities. Number two, there’s a shopper here who you don’t want to see. Number three, there’s a shopper here who you do want to see.”

Sirius tried to keep a sufficient poker face, steeling himself to ride out James’s upcoming monologue.

“Number one is the least possible option. As is common knowledge, Sirius Black is a trouble-maker, which I commend him for. However, he is also an excellent escape-artist. In recent events, Mr. Black has been known to assign the blame to others, even his own brother,” James paused for a dramatic gasp, “in order to avoid the responsibility of his actions. If there were an authoritative body present in this fine establishment, and Mr. Black was on his government-mandated twenty minute break per four hours of hard labor, which he is, then there would be no reason for him to remain in such a visible locale.” James paused theatrically.

Sirius bit his cheek to hold in his laughter; he didn’t want to give James the satisfaction. “Are you done yet?”

“No. Possibility number one has been refuted, but possibility number two is also dethroned by the logic of scenario numero uno. If you were avoiding a customer, you would go to the break room. Therefore, ladies and gentlemen…” James made a sweeping motion with his arms, looking in turn at Sirius, Dorcas, and Dorcas’s current customer, an elderly man who appeared to be either a wizard or quite unaware that Woodstock had ended and his hair had turned gray.

“I’m still not listening,” Dorcas added, although her customer evidently was, having now turned himself fully towards James.

“Possibility number three is the only answer. Mr. Sirius Black has his eyes on a customer!” James gasped and covered his hand with his mouth. The elderly/hippie/wizard customer gasped as well, though not as loud as James.

“James, there is no customer, I was literally just looking because I thought I saw a girl from class. But I don’t think it was her.” Sirius lied. He knew that James wouldn’t mind hearing about the gorgeous sweater-clad boy, and Sirius knew he would probably tell him all about their five seconds of eye contact once they were both at home later. But, Sirius also knew that given the opportunity, James would do his best to embarrass Sirius in front of someone Sirius found attractive. It was best to keep James away during first impressions.

“Liar!” James scrambled onto the table where groceries were bagged, and grabbed the handheld barcode scanner. Now apparently conducting an interview, he spoke into the barcode scanner as if it were a microphone. “Mr. Black, do tell us, who is the unlucky victim?”

Sirius realized that he wouldn’t be able to compete with James’s energy level today, so he decided to join him instead. Speaking into the faux-microphone with a deeper-than-usual voice, Sirius answered. “Well, Mr. Potter, it was a shopper, you see, who is simply adorable, and no further questions will be taken at this time.”

“A-ha!” James announced with glee, and flung the barcode scanner down. “So there is someone!”

Returning to his normal voice, Sirius laughed and offered, “yes, you were right, you are always right, and I saw a boy, but just don’t do anything and maybe I’ll invite you to our wedding eventually.”

“Wow, wedding bells already? Must be a rather dashing young lad.” James could read Sirius like a book, they were practically brothers, and he knew when Sirius was done with a joke. Hoping that he would get to witness an interaction between Sirius and the customer today, James mercifully changed the subject to their weekend movie plans.

4:37pm – 4:42pm: Remus

Ten minutes later finds Remus’s cart holding all of the items on his list-- with the addition of two non-list items: one bar of 80% cacao dark chocolate, and one small pack of green tea mints-- and en route to the cash registers.

Remus noticed that the boy is still at his register, but that he was now joking around with another worker-- a boy with equally dark but messier hair and glasses-- who appeared to be dodging erratic jabs of an uncapped sharpie marker and laughing. Remus momentarily considered avoiding them altogether, but since (1) they are the only register without a line, (2) Remus isn’t buying any weird groceries, and (3) is capable of casual grocery store chatter with someone attractive, Remus steered his cart towards them. Glasses Boy saw him first, and momentarily frowned before his eyebrows shot up into his curls. He poked Attractive Boy, who turned towards Remus and smiled, before turning back towards Glasses Boy to smack his arm. Remus is now close enough to read his name tag, which states Sirius, and is glad to be able to stop referring to him as “Attractive Boy” in his head. He also happily noticed the rainbow pin clipped under his name. The other worker’s name is James, but Remus wasn’t looking away from Sirius for very long.

“Did you find everything you were looking for today?” Sirius asked, as he quickly types something into the computer. His words may come from the same required script he uses for every customer, but Remus noticed that his tone sounded friendly.

“I did, thanks, how about you?” Remus returned, pleased at keeping his voice calm despite talking to the most attractive person he had ever seen. A beat of silence followed before he realized what he said, and immediately blushed. “I mean, wait, sorry–”

Sirius’s laugh is warm, and it feels like he is laughing with Remus instead of at him, somehow, before he leaned in conspiratorially and offered in a slightly lower volume, “You know, I think I did find what I was looking for.” His eyes remained on Remus’s shocked expression for another moment before he returned to scanning the groceries. Meanwhile, the other worker, James, groaned loudly and took a step backwards.

Now speechless, Remus felt his face get even warmer and was certain he was now the same shade of red as the cart. Could Sirius possibly be flirting with him? Remus knew he wasn’t unattractive, but he didn’t think someone like Sirius would show interest in him.

4:37pm – 4:42pm: Sirius

Now with only ten minutes left of their break, Sirius and James have covered all of the conversational topics available to them within the workplace-- they have updated each other on the happenings of their last two hours, exchanged weird customer stories, discussed the pros and cons of “double texting” the red-haired girl James met in his Anthropology class study group-- and have moved on to entertaining themselves by play-fighting. Naturally, it escalated in volume, and as their manager would say if he was actually on the floor, “obnoxiousness.”

James brandished the barcode scanner and waved it over Sirius’s forearm-- sleeve pulled up to display his constellation tattoos-- screeched a remarkably accurate “BEEP,” and proclaimed that Sirius was worth a total of ninety-five cents. In retaliation, Sirius uncapped a black sharpie marker, and began trying to draw on James. James laughed as he dodged the swipes.

Suddenly, James froze, and looked just beyond Sirius’s shoulder with a small frown. Sensing that their mayhem had finally become noticed by a manager or shift lead, Sirius capped the sharpie and began to draft the perfect story that would get himself out of trouble and throw James under the bus. He was pulled out of his lie-crafting when James poked him in the side, now looking mischievously excited.

Sirius turned around to see the cute boy from earlier, and smiled reflexively. The boy was pushing his shopping cart towards Sirius’s register, and Sirius realized that the boy must not know that his lane is currently closed.

“Oh, yes,” James whispered with glee.

Sirius smacked him and issued a simple warning grunt.

Sirius stole another look at the boy. Now that they are closer, he took in the warm hazel eyes and the few faint scars running between his freckles. Already ignoring the anticipated tormenting he will receive from James later, Sirius quickly logs back in to the computer to be able to ring up the boy’s purchases, despite still being on break.

Now that the boy is actually standing in front of him, Sirius is surprised to find that he is a little nervous. He’s always been a successful conversationalist, and a very effortless flirter. James always pointed out that roughly fifty percent of the annual Thanksgiving food bank donations come from Sirius’s customers. Looking for something to say, he blurted out the first thing he could think of.

“Did you find everything you were looking for today?” Sirius quickly cursed himself for sounding so boring.

“I did, thanks, how about you?” The boy answered, and Sirius immediately loved his voice. He had the timbre of an audiobook narrator. “I mean, wait, sorry–”

Sirius’s laughter interrupted him. Deciding to double-down on the flirting to make up for the fact that he opened with a line about groceries, he put the charm back on and leaned forward just a bit. “You know, I think I did find what I was looking for.”

James groaned loudly and took a step backwards from the grocery bags, but Sirius knew he was still listening intently.

4:43pm – 4:50pm: both

“Is your name actually Sirius?” Remus blurted out. Sirius looked surprised, but Remus spoke again before he could respond. “No, it’s a cool name, I really like it actually, but I work in a coffee shop on campus and sometimes I steal someone else’s name tag because my name is Remus which is kind of a weird name but I just realized that I’m rambling so I am now going to stop talking.”

Sirius smiled at him. “Nice to meet you, Remus. I like your name too.” Time paused as their eye contact held, and small smiles began forming. The moment ended when James started making gagging noises, empty grocery bags in hand.

“Bye James! Your grocery bagging skills are no longer required.” Sirius said, shoo-ing him away without looking away from Remus. “Good luck with that girl who won’t text you back!”

James smiled mischievously as he began to make his way towards the previously unused break room. “Good luck with your foot fungus, Sirius! Don’t forget to apply your poultice at the top of every hour!”

Sirius shook his head before returning to Remus’s groceries. “You said you work in a coffee shop on campus? Which one?”

“Oh, it’s the UCenter Caffeine House.” Remus is pleased to have successfully said one sentence to Sirius without butchering any social or conversational norms.

“Are you a student then?”

“Yeah, I’ll be a Junior this fall. Are you also a student there?” Remus hoped his question didn’t sound too excited.

Sirius beamed. “Yeah, I’m going into Junior year as well actually!”

“Oh cool, what are you studying?” Remus asked.

“Philosophy. But I’m thinking about adding an Education minor because I’ve been thinking about becoming a teacher.”

“That’s awesome! I’m studying Psychology, but minoring in Education because I want to work in elementary schools.” Remus thought briefly of his seventh grade guidance counselor, Ms. McGee. “I hope I can help people the way that I was helped.”

Sirius paused his scanning, holding the green tea mints in the air, and looked up at Remus again. “That is really powerful to hear. I owe a lot to the psychologists that worked in my schools while I was growing up.” Remus was pleased to hear that Sirius is appreciative of his path, but also that he seems to actually value therapy and social work. “These mints are so good by the way, I just eat them like candy.”

Remus took advantage of the available lighter conversation topic. “Oh good, they reminded me of one of my favorite drinks at work! It’s a blended matcha mint tea. Although I usually add some chocolate sauce to mine.”

Sirius laughed, now scanning the dark chocolate bar, “Sounds like it matches your shopping cart items. Maybe I’ll have to come try this matcha mint drink, when do you work next?”

Now it is Remus’s turn to smile. “I work a closing shift tomorrow! So I’ll be there starting at 4pm, but the baked goods are half-off after 5.”

“Sounds like I’ll see you at 5 then, Remus. Will you be wearing your own name tag?” Sirius asked innocently.

It took Remus a half second to realize that Sirius was referring to his earlier embarrassing ramblings about his name. Not one to be out-done, even by ridiculously attractive grocery store workers, he replied with his own faux-innocence. “Yep, and if you’re coming right at five o’clock will you need to apply your foot fungus poultice at the shop? We have a bathroom inside.”

They both laugh, and Sirius can’t help but feel warmer, as if somehow this boy walked into the store and ended up talking to Sirius for a reason. They maintain a comfortable eye contact, before Sirius decides he should complete the transaction, having long ago finished ringing up Remus’s groceries.

“Did you want a plastic or a paper bag for these? My bagger seems to have returned to his break.”

Remus pulled out the compact folded reusable bag from his pocket. “Oh, I brought my own actually.”

“Perfect,” Sirius said, and they both began placing Remus’s items inside.

“Wait,” Remus interrupted, “did you say return to his break? Are you on break right now?”

Sirius sheepishly pointed up to the box above his register. Compared to the other lanes with workers, it is not illuminated. “James and I usually take our breaks out here, um, because we like being, uh, a part of the action?”

Remus’s face fell. “I feel so bad for making you work during your break; I didn’t realize your lane was closed, but, you were too nice to say anything. Although the thought of you wanting to stay on the floor during your break makes my introverted soul shudder.”

Sirius laughed, “No, don’t worry, I would have told you I was closed if I didn’t want you here.” Remus smiles in response. “But,” Sirius said, drawing out the vowel, “my break did end while we were talking and I should probably start ringing other customers up.”

“Oh, yes, of course, let me stop distracting you.” Remus picked up his bag of groceries, and took a step towards the exit. “It was nice to meet you, Sirius, and sorry again about interrupting your break.”

Sirius looked up from his station, and despite having already turned on the “Lane Open” sign, called out again. “Wait, Remus, um, your receipt!”

“Oh, I don’t need it, but thank you–” Remus was cut off by Sirius handing it to him, their fingers brushing for just a second.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at 5!”

“Yeah, see you!” Remus smiled as he walked out of the store. His smile grew even wider when he unfolded the receipt to see a phone number scribbled in black sharpie.

#halictus #halictus-writer #wolfstar #fluff #first meetings #modern au #non-magic au #short writing

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