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sukeruton-san · 21 hours ago

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A Coffee Heart pt 3

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" Drake, why are you looking at a civilian's family history "

"The adults are Midwestern villains their secret hero son may be my long lost twin and they also have a daughter but she's mostly fine by herself. We might need to overthrow an entire government branch though"

"Excuse, me"

" You're excused"

After chatting with Danny for a while and getting more information without it sounding like an interrogation also making sure he'll be fine for couple of hours I went digging for the rest of the day.

And oh boy you won't believe what I found.

The Fenton's are fucking wild, after breaking through several firewalls just for the town and then even more for their security I found out 'the haunting world' really means haunted like ghost haunted. These people are the definition of mad scientists proudly stating that they built a portal to another dimension in their basement, and judging by the floor plan right below where Danny sleeps, said portal was letting dangerous ghosts out onto the city, but not all of the ghost are like that though.

The 'echoscientist' are heavily biased when it comes to ghost stating that they are 'nonsenseient' and 'don't feel pain' that they need to be a 'contained' 'experimented on' or even 'eradicated'' which is bullshit and horrifying. It's pretty obvious that there are several neutral and even some good ghosts appearing, most noteworthy being Phantom the hero of Amity Park (I know that majority is painting him as a villain but that is so far from the truth! there is an hour long video of him playing with children at the park helping everyone with daily tasks and more) also it seems pretty clear to me that Lazarus water and ectoplasm are similar in compounds which is frankly something I rather not think about right now.

The Fenton's cause so much property damage it's not even funny. they seem to not care for human lives and their excuse for doing so being 'dangerous ghost in the area' when it's clear that Phantom has it handled they don't even shoot at the attacking ghost they shoot at him which is so wrong on so many levels. the anti-ghost inventions they make seemed to even cause several attacks as well. Phantom already has enough on that his plate with the ghost attacks being 24/7.( Poor guy looks exhausted and burnt out) He doesn't need to have to hide/escape/be afraid from the people he's trying to protect. Hell even the red huntress(another vigilante) makes allies with him then shoots him in the back when the danger is over.

Looking closer at Phantom he has fluffy, soft, and thick white hair that seems to move like it's underwater; piercing, glowing, Lazarus green eyes; body type like Danny's but you can see more of the muscle and shape with his clothing being more skin tight, speaking of clothing he looks like he's wearing a hazmat suit with a symbol(a stylized D with a P in its negative space) postered on it and a utility belt. both the symbol and utility belt were added on later to the original suit which seems to resemble the ones the Fenton adults wear constantly

Actually Phantom looks a lot like Danny in general. . .

And Phantom has been called 'halfa' by some of his rouges. . .

No. . .

OH NO

Phantom and Danny looks so similar because they are the same person!?! after looking at Danny's school absences, tardys, and straight up running out of the class with the ghost attacks they line up

Danny seamlessly shows up with injuries that phanton has gained from Ghost attacks (but they're also injuries that seems to come from something else). Danny is apparently known to run from ghost attacks and as soon as that happens Phantom comes around the corner. Phantom uses Fenton tech that has been modified from the original, which probably he did, another similarity to add between us. . .

Wait I can add being a vigilante/hero as a similarity between us as well!

SHIT! Phantom is a ghost, dead, not living, did my twin brother die at some point!?! Cuz he sure as hell wasn't born like that!?! It must have been the day the portal was open. from what I was able to gather he was the only one home that day and the portal spontaneously worked after failing at first. And about a week later the first official ghost attack happened.

Also what is all this shit about the Anti-Echo Acts and the GIW!?!?! A whole government branch dedicated to the horrendous sayings of the Fenton adults!?!?! It looks like a lot of the Ghost attacks are dying down because it's became too dangerous for them to be out there.

We probably wouldn't have even noticed about all bullshittery with the government and this town in pacifically if if it wasn't for danny coming here.

. . . . .

Danny is here.

He is Phantom.

He said he was forced to be here.

He was forced into leaving his town.

The town that is attacking him at every corner.

With a support system that seems to be nonexistent.

And from looking at the old videos/photos he was learning everything from scratch.

With barely any appreciation for the things he does.

With the government trying to dissect him ( the fuck)

So logically after taking down the government and shutting down the portal if possible ( don't know if Danny needs it or if they environment has changed too much) Amity Park wouldn't need a hero if there's nothing to do there.

plus with their treatment of obvious heroes they could deal with their shit themselves, how does he deal with that I don't know.

They wouldn't mind if Phantom stays in Gotham would they? Probably not.

Oh well

He should probably start that welfare check now he'll do a more thorough investigation with the government later, twin brother priority right now.

" Drake, where are you going? You can't just say all of that and leave! Drake!!"

Yup welfare check

(think I'm getting better at writing shit!)

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #A Coffee Heart

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side-by-side-sideblog · 12 hours ago

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As a butch individual I will not like you, fuck you, talk to you, make friends with you, or entertain you if you hate men, neither will my partner and other butches I know. It is not progressive, man hating isn't queer culture, because men are queer culture. Men are why I am masc, they accepted my masculinity first, lesbians were butch and masculine phobic to me for 8 years till I figured my shit out. I know that isn't the norm, but it isn't rare either.

These people put me back in the closet over and over. They don't support gender or sex being a spectrum, if they do they're showing no signs of it. They think saying men dni will stop guys who harass people but they don't stop because they don't care about consent and a dni doesn't change that. There are plenty of girl bloggers who also don't respect consent and send people gore and threats over minor disagreements. We don't go after them hardly at all in comparison considering we have people who've been doing that since 2016 and earlier that people still reblog and uplift because they're women. Men doing that on here don't get that treatment, because it's rightfully wrong. Most other sites white non queer men do getaway with that more while women don't, the Tumblr user base reversing that isn't progressive, because cis white women here get more slack then anyone else because trans fems, trans mascs, intersex people, and non white people get the "evil" tag over small shit, let alone actual bad things.

We teach in current society that men are incapable of consent, as if it's in their nature. This isn't true, but it sure does create a lot of guys who lack boundaries. That doesn’t mean Man = Bad it means society saying Man = Wild Beast is bad. A man is just whoever identifies as one, and identifying as a man has nothing to do with lack of consent, or toxic masculinity. I sometimes wonder if I identify as butch in a man way, idk, and I don't care, I am who I am, and women are who I spend time with in a queer way. My closeness to masculinity isn't traitor behavior. Femininity isn't Divinity, I do not worship women. Masculinity isn't an Ignominity, I do not criminalize men. Masculinity is also not Divinity, and Femininity isn't an Ignominity. Both can be fallible at times when the conditions are right, but they are neutral markers.

To make man = good we do that by just changing ourselves and our ideas of masculinity being bad, then we teach it to everyone else, including kids, friends, partners, and parents. When people stop the "boys will be boys" then more men will be taught consent.

I have an actual irrational hatred for a character that makes me burst into anger and hour long rants (not joking) because I see him as the epitome of toxic masculinity. Seeing him in a profile picture can ruin my day, but I do not put him in a dni list because I am not going to blame fans of him for my distaste in how the media itself supports his bad actions as good. Just like if I get harassed by men who lack consent, I will not blame all men and put men dni.

Saying "I block ＿" is better anyway.

Plus, how can you know someone's a woman? Not everyone has pronouns listed, gender listed, or just a big neon sign saying "I'm a woman." you will have no idea if people are respecting your frankly outrageous ask of who can follow or reblog your posts.

Men on this site who respect women and reblog posts do exist, and there are a lot of them. Also trans eggs who are on this site are not going to figure themselves out through media like mlp, she-ra, and whatever you post by saying men dni. My trans sister cracked her egg six months ago, so for her blog she would have steered clear of men dni disclaimers and probably blocked them out of respect. Now how does she undo that, go through her entire block list? That would be crazy work for people who wouldn't have respected her pre transition (which they didn't, not even other trans girls or queer gurls in highschool did, only now would they support her. That's what man hating does to people.)

There is no simple solution to keeping people away, oh wait... It's called blocking.

tldr; Having a dni for an entire demographic of people just for the flaws of a few inside doesn't work. It never will. People who don't care about consent will breach it to hurt you.

if you have "cishet men dni" in your bio i, a trans man, will not touch you with a 10 foot pole. i should not be forced to out myself as a trans man just to interact with you. on top of that, cishet men are not inherently evil. stop trying to reinvent bioessentialism with your "girl good, boy bad!" mentality.

#trans fem #<- because I mentioned my sis #idk what else to tag #idk #I love men #<- that's a good one #found out toxic masculinity/femininity and anti femininity/masculinity are in some forms of scrabble when looking for inity suffixes #so that's a useless fun fact #or useless to me I guess #anti bioessentialism #<- forgot that one

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lieslab · 3 days ago

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Go fish

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Minho X gn reader

Summary: You decide to go on a fishing trip with your boyfriend, not realizing that it means you have to actually fish.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2.1K

A/N: Which member of management do I have to fight to let Minho make a fishing video? Let him show us his skills. I haven't forgotten that he's wanted to make one for a while now. Until it happens, I imagine it'd go something like this if you were there and hated fishing.

_ _ _

“This is the worst day of my life,” you mumbled beneath your breath.

Across from you, Minho looked over with an unamused frown. “Hey, I heard that. I don’t know what you’re talking about. This morning, you were so excited to come with me on this trip. I told you what we’d be doing, but you were all like ‘no, I want to go! It’ll be so much fun!’” He kicked his leg up and waved his hands around to mock you.

“Don’t belittle me. That was before I found out you were going to use actual worms. That’s disgusting.”

His dark eyes squinted. “How else do you plan on catching fish? Have you been watching too much American TV? Are we going to go fishing with our bare hands?”

“I thought you were using rubber ones!”

“The correct term is fishing lures.”

With a huff, you silently pouted beside him. High on his own amusement, he popped the plastic lid off the worms he purchased twenty minutes ago. His solo fishing trip turned into a duo trip. Never in a million years did he think you’d join him for something like this, but here you were beside him.

Your nose scrunched up in disgust. The pink-noodle worm squirmed along his fingers. Bits of damp dirt clung to its naked body. With the lid off the container, the wet mildew smell floated your way. You pinched your nose and turned around. “How can fish eat that? It stinks.”

“For the same reason you like blue cheese, you think it tastes good.”

You shot him another glare. He grinned, held out the worm in your direction, and let it dangle. “So do you think you can bait your own pole or should I do it?”

“You do it. I don’t want to be responsible for causing the worm pain. It’s going to give me nightmares.”

“It’s a worm.”

“And hooking the worm is going to hurt it. Don’t you have ear piercings? You know what it feels like to be pricked with a needle. It hurts.”

He sighed, attached the worm on the string, and casted the string out into the murky water. “You know how a bobber works, right? You know how to reel in a fish slowly and then-”

“Okay, just because I didn’t want to put the worm on the hook, it doesn’t make me stupid.” You grabbed the pole from him, headed towards the edge of the bank, and focused on the white and red bobber.

“You’re going to be in a world of trouble when I pull out the fileting knife.”

“I’m going to filet you.”

“Tough talk from the person who couldn’t put a worm on a hook.”

You stuck your tongue out at him and took your attention back to the bobber. Your feet dug in the oversized grass and you stayed quiet. Behind you, Minho began to set up a new fishing pole for himself. Attached with a worm and a hook, he set up a few feet away from you and threw out his own line.

For months, he spent so long talking about how eager he had been to go fishing. When the cold cleared up and the sun began to warm South Korea, he planned a fishing trip. He never planned for you to tag along, but you insisted.

He didn’t find your presence annoying, but rather amusing. For as long as he dated you, you were a little more sensitive. Your ideal free time wasn’t spent fishing, but rather hanging out with your friends or watching Netflix. He started to pack up when you asked if you could join him, but he agreed instantly.

He learned how to fish years ago. Childhood was full of his parents, family friends, and his own friends trying to see who could catch the largest fish. Bets were made. Recipes changed over time. The wholesomeness and memories created, they were irreplaceable.

Something about taking the time out of your day, catching the food, preparing it, and consuming it; it made everything extra special. The taste of fresh fish, not everyone could recreate that flavor. The extra work made it all worth it.

“It’s moving! I caught something! I caught something!”

Your voice broke him from his own bobber. He glanced over and, sure enough, your bobber slowly moved towards the bank. With each rotation of the handle, you tugged it closer and closer. Water splashed, a yellow webbed tail smacked the water, and disappeared beneath the surface again.

He dropped his pole and hurried over to you. “Do you have it?”

“Yeah, but whatever it is, it’s huge. I can feel the weight on the end of the line.” You continued to slowly bring it in. When it jerked and the bobber tugged, Minho leaned over to assist you.

After a few moments, the tip of a face popped out from the surface. Beady rotten eyes caught yours. A mouth opened and shut. Sunlight reflected off the glimmering scales.

“No fucking way,” he mumbled.

“What? What is it?”

“Hang onto it, I’m going to get the net!” He spun around and hurried back to his car. A metal hoop laced with a black net and a long handle.

You gagged when the fish splashed water. Water splashed over your legs, soaked your shoes, and seeped into your socks. You grumbled, feeling disgusting, but kept your hold on the handle.

Minho rushed back, trailing through the grass. The netting disappeared through the water, tucked beneath the murky surface, he clung to whatever you caught, and yanked it up. His eyes widened when he brought the fish to the surface. “Oh my god.”

“Why is it that size? Are fish supposed to be that big? Is that normal? Is it sick?”

The seriousness of the moment chipped away with your concern. His infectious laughter filled the air. “You c-caught-” He burst into another round of laughter.

“It’s not funny!” You cried out. “Why is he that big? Minho, he’s like a fucking giant! Is it normal?”

He nearly dropped the net back into the water. Sniffling, he wiped at one of his eyes. “This is what we call a Common Carp. I don’t know how you managed to catch one this size. It’s got to be over ten pounds, at least.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“It means that we don’t have to spend hours searching for dinner.”

Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped. “We’re going to eat him?”

“It’s a fish. You don’t know the sex, but yes. We’re going to eat this fish. Do you think I came out to catch fish for fun? If I’m going to put a hook through the mouth, I’m going to consume a fish or two.”

You grumbled and groaned. Like a lost puppy, you followed Minho back up the bank. The mildew colored fish’s mouth opened and shut, trying to gain air. The moment Minho put the net on the ground, it flopped out.

“No!” He cried out and reached for it. The wiggling fish managed to avoid his grasp. Squirming and flopping back in the direction of the water, you dropped down in front of it on your knees.

A wet tail slapped a small section of your bare ankle. You gagged, but didn’t pull away. Instead, you stretched out with two hands, dived forward, and pinned the slimy creature to the ground. Fish slime hit your tongue and you nearly lost your lunch. Thankfully, Minho dived forward and took over from there.

Once he removed the hook, he grabbed the lower jaw and placed it in a large blue bucket of water. And you? Well, you lost it. You gagged and fought against the urge to vomit. Your hands splashed the murky water repeatedly. The scent of wet fish clung to your skin.

“Are you okay?” Minho called after you.

“I’m fucking dying. He touched me with his germs! I’m going to have-” You gagged again and spit. You vigorously rubbed your hands against the springy-green grass. “Ew, gross! I can still feel the scaly skin!”

“You big baby. How are you going to learn to filet a fish, if you can’t handle catching one?”

“Don’t make me do that. I don’t want to watch! I’m going to-” Another one of your loud gags tipped Minho over the edge. He burst into another fit of laughter and collapsed to his knees.

“Hey! It’s not-” Another gagging sound brought tears to his eyes. He tried to stop, but you looked so distressed. Fishing had always been normal to him, but you acted like you touched bio-medical waste. Your reaction was so dramatic, he couldn’t help it.

“Stop laughing at me!”

“Stop g-gagging!” He shot back, breathlessly. He sucked in a deep breath and tipped his head towards the ground. “I think I’m going to pee myself from laughing so hard.”

“You’re not helping!”

It took a while for the two of you to contain your composure. He rose back to his feet, grabbed his pole, and started to try to catch another fish. Minutes ticked by, but the water remained still. Not daring to touch your pole again, you walked back to the bucket the carp was in.

“I’m sorry I caught you.” You plopped down beside him. “Soon, you’ll be in my stomach and I apologize for that. I was trying to do what was best. I didn’t realize we were going to eat you. If I would have known, I wouldn’t have stuck a pole in the water, Mr. Fish. “

“Stop talking to the fish,” Minho called over his shoulder. “It can’t hear you. Fish don’t speak English.”

“Tough talk for the guy who barely speaks English himself.”

You didn’t know what he said in Japanese, but you could only assume they were strings of swear words. You sighed, turned back to the bucket, and leaned closer. “I’m really sorry about all this. Soon your suffering will end and-”

Splash!

Minho glanced back over his shoulder to see you frantically wiping at your face. “You stupid fucking fish! Screw being nice! I’m going to eat you with zero remorse!”

Minho blinked, taken back by your sudden change to demeanor. “What did you-”

“He splashed me!” You grabbed the edge of your shirt and wiped it over your face. “I’m going to get pink eye or something!”

He sighed, tipped his head back, and rolled his eyes to the sky. Maybe this would be the first and only time the two of you went on a fishing trip together. Fishing obviously wasn’t your forte.

After your fight with the fish, and no luck catching another, Minho packed up the pole to go home. You sat in the passenger’s seat with your arms crossed. The bright blue bucket held steadily between your legs. The oversized fish rocked with the sloshing water.

Silence sat between you and Minho. In his head, he focused on recipes he could make with fresh fish. You avoided looking into the bucket, until you gave up. You sighed and glanced down at the fish.

“I’m sorry that I said I’d happily eat you. I didn’t mean it. The words came out in the spur of the moment. I grew angry at you because I don’t like fish germs.”

Only the sound of sloshing water greeted you. You looked further down and your face softened. Beneath the murky water, beady dark eyes met yours. Your heart ached at the idea of being pulled from your home and being forced into such a confined small space. Like being trapped in the jail cell, the fish did nothing to deserve it.

“Minho?”

“Huh?”

“How are you going to kill him?”

“As humanely as possible. Just because I’m going to filet him, it doesn’t mean I have a black heart. I’m going to show what compassion I can. Just because we’re larger beings and above fish in the food chain, it doesn’t mean I want the fish to die in a tragic way.”

“I don’t want to watch.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I’m going to name him Minnow.”

“That’s a carp, not a-”

“Minnow. Short for Mini Lee Know.” You glanced over innocently and smiled. “Because just like him, you’re a pain in my ass too, sometimes.”

“You’re lucky I love you, you idiot.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“You’re on fish cooking duty.”

“As long as you promise to do the filleting and cleaning, I have no problem doing that.”

“Wanna scale him?”

“Over my dead body will I ever touch another disgusting, slimy, wet, smelly fish ever again, bucko.”

And from that point on, you kept your word; never again.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @danihwang882 @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

Ko-fi

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids drabbles #skz fanfic #skz imagines #skz scenarios #lee know #lee minho #lee know fanfic #lee know fluff #lee know x reader #lee know x you #lee know x y/n

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mommyownsmee · 1 day ago

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8🙈

8: What are the rules you would give your little/sub/domme?

Rules - For my Submissive

You will address me as „Mommy/Daddy“ in private at all times and I‘ll always call you by a name of your choice [unless inappropriate]. You decided for „…“ in private and „…“ in public. We decided that you can call me „…“ in public.

You must always obey my orders [unless inappropriate]. If you can‘t you have to give me a reason for it, which I will respect at all times.

You must send me a selfie of you everyday [definitely], or a photo of what you wear [if you can].

You will take any punishment you may receive [without complaint]. Appropriate punishment will be given for breaking any of these rules- and you must give a proper apology: „I’m sorry for [what you did] Mommy/Daddy“. Rule breaking is only allowed under special circumstances [birthdays etc.]

We agreed on the Punishments together and added them to the app already.

You must always tell me when/where you consume any drugs/alcohol and who you are with- before doing so. I want you to be safe and have infos if there is an emergency.

You may not have another treat you as I do allow. I will not be happy and you will not be forgiven if I find out [and I will].

I may add/remove anything from these rules at any time [we can always talk about these rules].

Mommy/Daddy will always tell you if they‘re having a bad day [our dynamic will maybe have a certain timeout].

You will always say good morning and good night to mommy/daddy. You will always tell mommy/daddy when you have to leave and where you‘re going [except it‘s an emergency. In this case you can tell mommy/daddy later what happened].

You have to put on your online time and checkmarks for messages on your social media for mommy/daddy. I want to see if you‘ve read my messages and when you‘ve been online. Otherwise mommy/daddy will be very worried. This is a point that can‘t be discussed.

Bedtime is at midnight. Only exceptions are weekends [Friday and Saturday] or birthdays, etc.

You are mine. You belong to me alone.

I want you to tell me your location when you‘re not at home or at work.

You have to stay within 2 meters when we are walking in public, no walking away from mommy/daddy.

You have to inform mommy/daddy about your plans for the day [in the morning].

You have to ask mommy/daddy whenever you want to buy expensive (things that are not groceries/ drugstore articles/... Like electronic devices, clothes etc.)

No eye rolling, no sticking tongue out, both gets you -500 points OR one overstimulation punishment.

Rules - For my Domme

| I AM AUTISTIC |

Communicate clearly & directly – I sometimes struggle with subtle cues or unspoken expectations. Please be clear in your instructions, tone, and intentions so I can fully understand what you need from me.

Correct me, but with understanding – If I make a mistake or displease you, I accept discipline, but I also need to understand what I did wrong and how I can improve.

Acknowledge my efforts – I thrive on pleasing you, and knowing that I’m doing well fuels my devotion. A simple acknowledgment, whether praise or correction, means everything to me.

Give me the freedom to express myself – I need a space where I can express my thoughts, emotions, and concerns without fear of punishment or dismissal.

Establish routine & predictability when possible – I function best when I have structure. Please help me by keeping routines, rules, and expectations as consistent as possible, and letting me know in advance if things will change.

Encourage my growth – Submission is a journey, and I want to grow both as your submissive and as a person. Help guide me to be better, not just for you, but for myself as well.

Allow me to seek comfort in you – When I am vulnerable, uncertain, or struggling, let me turn to you without fear. Your dominance is my anchor, and your presence is my refuge.

Recognize when I need you the most – There will be times when I struggle to express my needs. Please be attentive to my unspoken signals and guide me when I cannot guide myself.

Give me time to process changes – Sudden changes in routine or expectations can overwhelm me. If something needs to shift, please let me know in advance when possible, so I have time to adjust.

Respect my sensory needs – Certain textures, sounds, or touches may overstimulate or distress me. Please be mindful of my sensory sensitivities, especially during play, discipline, or intimacy.

Allow me to use stimming or self-regulation methods – If I need to stim (rocking, tapping, fidgeting, etc.) or take a break to regulate myself, please allow me to do so without judgment. It helps me stay calm and present.

Be patient with my emotional processing – Sometimes I may struggle to express what I feel or need right away. Please give me the time and space to process my emotions and communicate them in my own way.

Understand my social exhaustion – Engaging with people can drain me faster than it does others. If I need quiet time or struggle with social interactions, please allow me the space to recover without guilt.

Rules - For my Little

Littlespace rules for public

Always hold hands with mommy (you can also hold onto mommy‘s arm if you need/want to)

Mommy will always open and close all doors for you

Mommy will talk for you in every situation

Please whisper into mommy’s ear if you want something or have the need to say something

Basic rules

You must always respect Mommy

You must always be be truthful and honest to Mommy

If you are sad Mommy prefers to know immediately.

You are allowed to eat snacks if you will eat a lot of healthy stuff (We will discuss this further).

You don’t have to do anything that you don‘t feel comfortable with.

You are always allowed to speak your mind without punishment given, but Mommy doesn‘t want you to use bad words.

„No“ is „No“. There is no „maybe“.

Evening rules

Your bedtime is 12-1 am (We can talk about a specific time).

You should always take care of your body (shower daily, brush teeth and take makup off etc).

You get Mommy-time daily before bed (read a book, talk or play something) in which Mommy will be there for you only. No distractions.

Morning rules

Your wake up time is 7am (We can talk about a specific time).

You have to brush your teeth in the morning.

You have to eat a healthy breakfast.

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ashen-char · 1 day ago

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mikey madison characters x reader for valentines

notes: a little late, it hasn't been valentines here for two days at time of posting! just felt like it ❤️

amber freeman (scream)

says she doesn't care about valentines' day and she's being honest, she thinks it's stupid and a marketing ploy to sell chocolates and stupid heart-shaped stuff. BUT she will also get pissed off and not speak to you for days if you don't get her anything.

if you ask her to be your valentine, she scoffs and says something to the effects of "we're dating. of course, dummy. it's not like i have something better to do on that day...". as if she didn't clear her schedule specifically anticipating a date night. nothing huge and public though. you two are more chill, and she hates the vulnerability and mushiness of PDA. (though she isn't above making out in a corner of one of her parties). if you tried to go the traditional route of a huge rose bouquet and taking her out to a packed restaurant, amber would claw your eyes out. she wants it to be customised to you two, not "basic bitch energy"

she'd get you a cute horror themed plushy. that's ones of her favourite things about your relationship. you don't judge her about her hobbies and passions, letting her rant on and on, ever letting her show you wayyy too much of the stuff. at this point, it's a hallmark of your relationship, horror is something you two talk about to bond. the first gift is a teddy bear holding a heart in one hand and a knife in the other. the heart says "i can't BEAR to be without you"

the second is a bottle of whiskey she stole from her parents liquor cabinet. then a handwritten letter of all the shit she likes about you (read: things about you that don't piss her off. the reasons why you're more tolerable than everyone else in this miserable town. how you actually make it worthwhile to stay). amber tells you that she's been thinking about it and... she doesn't want you two to drift apart. it's mushy, and embarrassing, but she says she'll pick her college according to which places accept you. "where you go, i go, valentine." she plays it off with a wink, but you can tell that she means it. she can't bear the thought of being without you after all.

her favourite candy is 100% liquorice and black jellybeans and you'd get her a basket full of it (and dark chocolate). her ideal valentines date is to go to a drive-in movie theater deep in the woods to watch some corey slasher, making out in your backseat during the boring scenes.

max fox (better things)

she loves valentines but all her exes have been shit and either broke up with her around that time (leaving her to celebrate it with friends with a galentines thing) or completely forgot it. so max keeps her expectations low. she's half-expecting you to come with a card and a last-minute dinner reservation at a shit restaurant cause all the good places are all booked up.

if you ask her to be your valentine, you should make it a big gesture. get sam and frankie and duke involved, they'd love it (and see how much better you treat her). you get sam to distract max on a day out, pester her and make sure she doesn't have a clue that you came over and you're decorating her room. rose petals all over her bed, a sign that frankie helped you design with some lame pun that max will ADORE, while duke helps you set up all the candles. the pun is probably along the lines of "will you be valen-mine?"

for valentines', max's gifts would be hella creative and handmade and thoughtful. a painting of you that she secretly did while you weren't paying attention and just laying in her bed. a mug she made and painted herself, with one of your inside jokes etched on the handle. a scrapbook of all the pictures she's taken on your dates, filled with notes of her favourite memories on the sides. the cutest ones being a photoshoot session on your first date, where max stole a first kiss on the final pic. the two of you smiling big and excited, not yet knowing you'd make it this far and this long.

you leave her guessing the whole time on your date. at first, you get her to believe you're taking her to her restaurant and she complains that she already has staff meals there all the time. but nonetheless, she's already so giddy for what you've done by showing up and getting her chocolates (she loves the ones with the seahorses and seashells) and a gorgeous bouquet of tulips. she's sniffing her flowers the whole time, grinning in the passenger seat. she's being so sweet and adorable that you spill and tell her the plans.

you got concert tickets to her favourite band AND they're floor seats so you can be right in the pit. max practically screams, kissing you all over as thanks. she's glued to you the whole time during the show, and you get to sing the lyrics of the "best love songs" (max's words) right to your girl. max takes pictures all night, posting you all over her socials. snapping her friends bragging about how she has the best valentine ever and they should be mad jealous.

river (all souls)

it's hard for river to make days about her, to put her feet up and relax. when you broach the conversation about valentines, she'd groan and tell you about how jade got glitter all over the couch when she was decorating letters for her whole class. you'd tell her that you meant her plans for valentines. as in, would she be yours. as in, you already paid jade's babysitter for the night and the kiddo is totally on board (jade REALLY wants you two to have a romantic night. when river turns to her daughter, playfully betrayed that you two planned this behind her back, jade giggles and gives her a thumbs up).

as you two head to your reservation, river has to be assured and reassured that jade is alright staying home for your date. river isn't used to fancy food. or sit-down restaurants where there are hosts rather than one waitress going around addressing every regular by name. when she tells you that she feels out of place and awkward even though she put on her nicest clothes (a hoodie without cigarette burns!), you take her hand and run right outta there together.

instead, you two go on a late night walk. you share jabs about the passing people you see, the man on the phone clearly being cussed out by his girlfriend, the cheating scumbags who thought they'd get away with booking dates back to back. sharing a cigarette, you two are sitting on a park bench, river sighing and apologising that she's not the type of girl who can appreciate all this cute shit you do for her. she wants to be able to swoon, to allow you to pamper her or whatever. but it's just one day, and the stuff you do every day is better. you being around is better, the most romantic gesture she's ever known.

you hit the corner store together, hand in hand. river picks out hella snacks, especially candy to share with jade, and an unhealthy amount of monster energy. you pick out a valentines card that has some dirty joke in it and she snorts and kisses you hard in the aisles. you slip a ring onto her finger.

anora mikheeva (anora)

valentines is a busy day in HQ. divorcees, eternal singles, the heartbroken - it's the perfect place for those that wanna drink and stare at naked girls all night, forgetting what day it is. and ani likes it like that. she likes being able to hustle more outta these suckers, likes that she can offer an ear to their sorrows and convince them way easier to buy a dance.

you ask her to be your valentine simply. you're laying in her bed, curled up with her all naked and blissed out, cuddling but not asleep. she makes a joke about holiday rates until you realise she's serious. she's fully booked. ani presses an apology kiss to your lips, offering to hang out the day after or something. that she'll make it up to you by giving you double the orgasms next time - giggling when you get fussy because you don't want her offering sexual favours all the time!

because don't get her wrong, anora loves romance. she wants to be swept off her feet, she loves the big gestures, the extravagant or extremely meaningful gifts. it's time that's an issue. scheduling. she can't put her life on hold for it. cutesy shit ain't gonna pay the bills.

it's surprisingly easy to decorate her room while she's asleep. like usual, ani got home in the early morning, slipping on her eye mask and earplugs so the sun and occasionally passing train don't wake her up. vera lets you slip in - her boyfriend's there as well - and she's amused at the sight of the huge cardboard box of goods you're gonna spread around ani's room.

her favourite rom coms. her guilty pleasure binge shows. a cute stitch plushy due to her disney obsession. her favourite flowers - dark red peonies because roses are way too normie. most importantly, you make breakfast in their tiny-ass kitchen to treat anora so she doesn't have to rush the morning to get ready for work.

you'll fit in the time around her schedule. you're determined to make her feel special even when the rest of the world demands that she be this very specific person all the time, this jaded hustling girl.

you sit on ani's bed, waiting for her to wake up, a tray of freshly cooked breakfast in your hands. she wakes up to the smell of chocolate chip pancakes, the way mom always used to cook her as a kid. there's cut up strawberries shaped like hearts, whipped cream on top. on the tray is a tennis bracelet she's been desperate for after some of the other HQ girls were bragging about their sugar daddies gifting it to them. you worked hard, often picking up overtime, to be able to afford it. ani gasps so loud when she realises you went all out, hands clasped over her mouth as she shouts "you fucking didn't! oh my god! i thought i was being robbed you fucking asshole!" as she complains about how loud you were.

#mikey madison x reader #anora #amber freeman #better things #mikey madison #river all souls #max fox #scream #anora mikheeva x reader #amber freeman x reader #max fox x reader

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constantfragmentation · 3 days ago

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Agreed.

Do I believe Vander blames himself, that he wronged Silco? Yes, I do. But he really doesn't do much beyond extended a weak olive branch to a trusted friend that he just tried to kill. It wasn't a fight that got out of hand, he tried to kill him.

I don't know about anyone else, but I'm sure as hell not going to seek my attempted murderer out afterwards to 'reconcile'. Yeah, no. Silco isn't going to the their special place in the mines, the Drop or anywhere else in FEAR he may run into his attacker and die the next time.

Let's also not forget, the Felica reason is really stupid. He lost his head? The writing is so weak here. Silco and Vander's break seemed more profound than an accidental death of a mutual friend. People get hurt and die in revolts. They had to know there would be casualties or why bother with revolting against Enforcers, who are heavily armed?

Also, if we use a vague timeline between the Day of Ash, Silco recovering from extensive injuries mentally, emotionally and physically, to the point in Arcane S1E1, WHERE... Vander and Benzo make the comment of 'there are worse things than Enforcers out there" meaning Silco and immediately painting him as the big baddie in the first episode.

So, by the age of the kids supposedly on the Day of Ash and then in Ep1, Vander had YEARS to try and contact Silco. They lived in the Underground, know the same people. There's not exactly an infinite places to stay hidden. Vander and Benzo clearly know Silco is operating in the Undercity.

You can't tell me in all those YEARS, Vander couldn't have made the effort to actually contact Silco and clear shit up. He chose not to and continued painting his 'brother' as a bad guy. For someone who 'never forgave himself', he sure didn't make an effort to find his brother. His effort was the weakest ever.

Even his "I never forgave myself" is hollow. No, buddy, you should have been begging your brother's forgiveness for what you did to him. It's this pathetic attempt of Vander's is what I find insulting. We're supposed to go, "oh look he was sorry , if only Silco KNEW!". But it doesn't address the work needed to regain a person's trust and forgiveness.

Vander didn't put in the effort to deserve Silco's forgiveness. End of story.

The mutliverse episode just felt like a slap in the face in this respect. Silco's personality completely changes which makes ZERO sense. The young Silco and Timeline Silco in S2 don't make any sense compared the characterization of Silco in all of S1.

Young Silco HAD to have traits that build into what makes S1 Older Silco. The drowning isn't going to make those traits magically appear. It was always about the cause. Even if Vander apologized, his handling of the Underground and working with Enforcers is what pits Silco against him. THAT is the betrayal.

I don't think Vander's letter would have done much if we're going off S1 Silco explanation of the drowning and aftermath. Silco tried to see if he could get back the 'old Vander' but also knew it might not happen and had Plan B in the wings.

" I let a weak man die".

Silco decided that the cause was still the most important thing to him and learned not to trust anyone so willingly and blindly.

The Felicia angle is so weak. There is no build-up to this magical trio of friends. Silco doesn't seem to know her kids or vice versa. The kids seems to see Silco as an enemy most likely due to Vander and Benzo.

If Silco was a true friend, why doesn't he know the kids or vice versa? You'd think due to their age prior to the bridge, Silco would be a part of their lives and not just Vander?

S2 was such a disappointing mess. If they really wanted to explore these relationships, then they should have laid some of the groundwork in S1 but didn't. The fact it was dealt with in such a sloppy manner and expected fans to love it? That's what bugs me.

And the blatant character assassination of SO many characters in order to make their plot work.

All of S2 was poorly executed. Period.

y'all. y'all know the letter wasn't the apology right. it was the olive branch. "you know where to find me" was an invitation. he couldn't apologize in a letter. he wanted silco to meet him. yeah it was a shit apology. because it wasn't one. my word.

#silco #vander #arcane critical

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cowboylikemac · 3 days ago

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LOVE NOTES | J.P

“ love’s a game, wanna play? ”

james potter x reader

including : fluff

word count : 1k+

Valentine’s Day at Hogwarts had always been an over-the-top affair. Professor Flitwick charmed pink and red paper hearts to float lazily through the corridors, Madam Pince enforced an even stricter no public displays of affection in the library rule (which never stopped couples from sneaking into the Restricted Section), and Peeves delighted in dropping flower petals—or sometimes actual ink—onto unsuspecting students’ heads.

It was ridiculous. Excessive. Completely overdone.

And yet, it had never mattered much to you—until now.

Because for the first time in your life, you had a secret admirer.

The first note had appeared in your Potions textbook, folded so neatly it was clear whoever had left it had taken great care. The parchment was slightly crinkled, as if it had been held too tightly before finally being placed inside.

“A smile like yours could rival the sun—lucky for us, you don’t burn as bright, or I’d be blinded every time you walked by.”

At first, you assumed it was some sort of prank. Maybe Sirius Black was up to his usual nonsense, or perhaps some lovesick Hufflepuff had gotten the courage to anonymously express their feelings. Either way, you dismissed it as a fluke.

Until the second note arrived.

This one was slipped into your robe pocket between Transfiguration and Charms, folded once with the same careful handwriting:

“If kindness had a sound, I think it would be your laugh.”

The third note came the following morning, waiting for you at breakfast beside your goblet of pumpkin juice:

“I swear the library is quieter when you aren’t there. Even the books miss you.”

By the fourth note, which had been tucked into your favorite quill case, you were officially flustered.

Who in Merlin’s name was doing this?

Who was noticing these small things about you?

And, more importantly… why did it make your heart pound so much?

The answer, of course, came in the form of one James Potter—who, much to your amusement, was not handling the situation well.

“What do you mean someone is leaving you notes?” James demanded, sitting across from you in the Gryffindor common room, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His hazel eyes, usually filled with mischief, were narrowed in something suspiciously close to jealousy.

You raised an eyebrow, casually twirling the most recent note between your fingers. “I mean exactly that, James. Someone’s been leaving me love notes.”

James’s scowl deepened. “But who?”

You resisted the urge to laugh. “If I knew that, they wouldn’t be a secret admirer, would they?”

Sirius, who had been lounging beside James, smirked in amusement, clearly enjoying his best mate’s unraveling. “Merlin, Prongs, you sound jealous.”

James scoffed, waving a hand in frustration. “I’m not jealous—I’m concerned, love.” He gestured wildly. “What if it’s some creep? Some bloke with terrible intentions?”

You shot him a look. “James. Someone who writes poetry about my laugh doesn’t exactly scream dangerous.”

James ran a hand through his messy hair, looking properly exasperated. “I just don’t like the idea of you getting all these notes from some anonymous git who can’t even sign his name.”

Sirius snorted. “Big words coming from the bloke who’s been carrying his love letter around for two weeks without delivering it.”

James immediately stiffened.

You blinked.

“What?” you asked slowly, turning to James.

James spluttered, his face immediately turning scarlet. “I��I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

Sirius threw his head back, absolutely delighted at the turn of events. “Oh, come off it, Prongs! You’re the worst secret admirer in history.”

You stared at James, your heart hammering in your chest. “Wait.” You sat up straighter, gripping the note between your fingers. “You wrote these?”

James didn’t respond right away. Instead, he let out a quiet groan, dropping his head into his hands. When he finally spoke, his voice was muffled. “Maybe?”

Sirius was howling with laughter now. “Oh, this is bloody fantastic! You’ve been ‘jealous’ of yourself this whole time!”

James groaned again, refusing to lift his head. “I hate everything.”

You, meanwhile, were trying very hard not to laugh.

“James,” you said, reaching out to gently pry his hands away from his face. He peeked up at you through his fingers, looking so embarrassed that it was almost endearing.

You squeezed his hand. “You’re an idiot.”

James exhaled sharply, finally meeting your gaze. “I know.”

“But,” you continued, a small smile tugging at your lips, “you’re a very sweet idiot.”

James perked up ever so slightly. “Sweet enough for a Valentine’s date, pretty girl?”

You hummed, pretending to consider it. “Hmm. Maybe.”

James straightened. “Maybe?”

You grinned, enjoying the way his face lit up. “I might be more convinced if you write me one more love note.”

James groaned dramatically, though there was no hiding the dopey, lovesick smile spreading across his face.

And when Valentine’s Day finally arrived, a final note appeared on your bedside table, written on slightly crumpled parchment in familiar, loopy handwriting:

“I may have been late to the game, but if you’ll let me, I’d love to be the only one writing you love notes from now on.”

And something told you that he would be.

happy valentines day from yours truly, mac <3

masterlist!

tags: @lydiascabinsix @lydiasfalling @laufeysvalentine

#cowboylikemac #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter smut #james potter fluff #james potter x y/n #james potter x self insert #james potter x oc #maraduersera #maraduers #maraders era #the maraunders map #marauders #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew

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sacredsorceress · 2 days ago

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scrutiny // bucky barnes

PAIRING: bucky barnes x avenger!reader SUMMARY: (CA:BNW spoilers) your husband decides that he wants to run for congress, but he won't do it without you. WORD COUNT: 2k A/N: tbh I needed to rationalize bucky running for congress after ca:bnw and the thunderbolts trailer WARNINGS: angst, PTSD, anxiety, captain america: brave new world spoilers, nightmares, pregnancy mention

masterlist | bucky barnes masterlist | inbox

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

"Are you sure this is what you want?"

The day was young. Dawn had barely begun. When you took a sip from the glass of water on your nightstand earlier, the clock had blinked 5:14 back at you. You wondered now how much time had passed.

A stream of gray light filtered in between the window's shades allowing you to see your husband's face. Scruff littered his cheeks, left unshaven from three days before and strands of hair hung loosely behind his ears in desperate need of a wash.

I'll scrub it clean later, you thought.

Your fingers could feel the phantom touch of the shampoo against his scalp as your fingertips massaged it into his skin. You'd even hold the showerhead for him, letting the warm water wash away shampoo along with the worries from earlier in the day.

But that was later.

Now, a tension thick enough to cut with enough a knife consumed the air.

"I think so." Bucky said.

Bucky's voice was coarse from the lack of use in the night. He cleared his throat as you heard the distinctive beep! beep! of your neighbor unlocking his car, signalling a start to the day.

"You think?" You couldn't help the bitter edge to your voice. As you tossed and turned the night before, playing different ways to approach the situation, you had tried- sincerely you did- to find a kind and gentle way to voice your opinions. But it seems that had faded away along with your consciousness as you went to sleep. "Buck, this isn't something you think you want to do. This could... I mean it could-"

You couldn't tell if his tone was due to exhaustion or frustration.

"Go ahead," Bucky said. "Say it."

"This could ruin our lives." You spat. "We're finally on track to having normal lives and now you want to run for Congress?"

"I think you know it's too late for us to have normal lives, Y/n."

It was the simplicity with which he said it. As if it was an obvious fact that only you were not aware of. In a way, you suppose you were.

Outside the window you heard your neighbor kick at his car door as the engine fussed. Battery's dead. You could hear him shout at his kids through the hurricane door, telling them that they'd have to take the bus to school.

You wanted nothing more than for Bucky and you to live normal lives. But the fact of the matter was that every day you were proved about the impossibility of it.

A week ago Bucky had come home to an empty house.

It's not as though he had never come home to an empty house before, because he had. Really, Bucky wasn't sure what it was. But before the logical part of his brain could remind him that you could be anywhere, doing anything, his pulse had began to quicken. Bucky could feel his heart thumping against its cage as blood rushed to his head, flooding his ears.

His lungs burned as he inhaled faster than he could exhale. His flesh hand shook.

Stumbling through the house he swung open a door to every room and closet, even shoving hangers aside in hopes of finding your waiting face between articles of clothing. With what little breath he had, Bucky called a wispy shout of your name.

He tossed sheets from their beds, ingredients from their cupboards all in search of you.

When you had finally come home fifteen minutes late, keys jingling in the lock, you found Bucky, head in his hands, sitting on the floor dialing Sam.

Later he would tell you that he didn't know what had gotten into him.

But you knew. This time it was nothing more than a missed bus, but before, it had been the real deal.

You had disappeared in the hands of some mastermind before he could even fight for you. And he wasn't alone.

Two nights ago Bucky woke to the sounds of you screaming.

His heart pounded in his chest, terrified that something had happened to you until he felt your wriggling form at his side. Your legs had tangled themselves in the sheets and a sheen of sweat coated your forehead as you heaved. The colourful glow of your magic emanated from your palms.

Not again.

In a moment he was up, grabbing your arms.

"Doll?" Bucky asked to no avail. "Doll, It's a dream-"

Before he could register what was happening, your head had whipped towards him, light glowing from your eyes.

"Stop it!"

And with that, a kinetic blast shot from your palms, building a shield between the two of you.

It took a moment, and several hits against the barrier with Bucky's vibranium fist, for recognition to blink its way back into your eyes.

When it did, your eyes burned with tears. Bucky welcomed you into his lap with open arms and held you as if the world depended on it. He supposed it did.

"I didn't know."

So maybe your husband was right.

Maybe you were past normal. But that didn't mean it was a good idea.

"We could move," you suggested. "Get out of the city... out of the country even. We could put this behind us like a bad dream. We could be safe there-"

You shifted in the sheets to face him, flinging your hands in reference to some distant future. Bucky could feel the breeze from your gestures brush against his skin and found himself wishing he had wings.

"It's never going to stop." Buck sighed, not out of frustration over you, but rather the fact he knew he was right as much as he wanted you to be. "They'll find us. They always do."

"So... what?" You asked. "So you put yourself out there and let them pick apart your life? Your every move? Because it'll start the second you announce you're running for election. They don't understand what our lives are like, Buck. They'll blame you for everything the Winter Soldier did. They'll scrutinize every little thing you do-"

Although your words had venom to them, it wasn't meant to sting Bucky into anything more than self awareness.

In truth, you weren't upset that he wanted to do something like this. Surprised? Yes. But upset? Angry at Bucky? Never.

What you were frustrated with was that you couldn't understand.

The same system that had turned itself against Bucky Barnes was now gaining him as a willing volunteer.

You'd seen firsthand how the admiration of someone when looking at you would quickly shift to fear at the sight of him. You'd stood alongside him as he fought to gain back the trust that he- James Barnes- had never been the one to lose. Again and again he was treated as a monster, a sinner, when all he had ever done was go fight in a war when he was asked 80 years ago and had paid the price for it ever since.

At times you didn't believe you deserved him- the kind, gentle love of your husband- why did they?

Lost in your own tirade, you hadn't noticed your husbands hands inching towards yours until the warm touch of his calloused fingertips begged for entrance into your closed fist.

"They already do pick me apart." His voice was rough, ragged. "I know you don't think I should do it, but I... I've spent so much of my life with no control over how it goes. I want to be able to do something, you know? Maybe I can make it better for other people, and us and... and if we have kids someday that end up with abilities like yours, they won't need to be scared like we were."

You could feel the steady beat of your heart thumping inside your chest. Your bottom lip quivered. Loosening your grip, you felt Bucky brush circles inside your palms.

His chest- shirtless from a restless night sleep- rose with a deep inhale.

"I won't do this without you."

It felt silly, almost, to think it but you were afraid of letting your husband out into the world. As if he wasn't several decades your senior, as if his face wasn't plastered in museums. But then again, the person the public knew was a hero or villain- not a man.

You knew the man- the one who lost sleep over memories that weren't his. The one who flipped a coin to decide whose turn it was to do the dishes. The one who slow danced with you to a scratchy vinyl on winter nights. Bucky Barnes was human and you were afraid they wouldn't see him for the man he was. Or refuse to and further hurt the man you loved.

You glanced down at your intertwined fingers. The light that was slowly pouring in had grown warmer and doused both your hands in its glow.

This was it, though, wasn't it? You've had the universe against you more times than you could count, what's a campaign trail?

You were together 'til the end of the line.

"I'll..." you started, squeezing Bucky's fingers. "If this is something you really want to do... I'll support you."

Bucky kept his mouth closed, waiting to hear it..

"But," you argued. "I won't stop getting my hands dirty. I'm an Avenger first and the Congressman's wife second."

And for the first time that morning, the tension shattered. You hadn't realized how thick it had been until your chest lifted.

Bucky was hunched over then, tendrils hanging in his face as he continued to massage your palm. It was then you noticed that in the years since his freedom, his posture had worsened. Buck'll complain about his back later, you thought.

The simplicity grounded you.

"'Congressman's wife," Bucky snorted, shaking his head. "God that sounds crazy."

You leaned forward and brushed a stray hair from his temple to get a better look into his eyes. Your fingers lingered against his skin.

You smiled.

"If there's one thing I know for sure though," you said. "Fuck, will you be able to pull off those suits."

A rumble of laughter escaped his throat and joined your own in a light symphony that drowned out the worries of before.

Your husband pulled your hand towards him, reeling you into his grasp. And before you could think, your lips were on Bucky's turning your giggles into delight-filled hmms.

He told you he loved you, not in words but in the feeling of his fingers gripping your top and his lips lingering on yours between breaths. You told him you loved him back.

Later, after you had washed Bucky's hair, massaging his scalp just as you had promised yourself earlier, you sat, hand in his, as he confirmed his intentions to run.

The rest of the day became a blur of phone calls and questions from wannabe campaign managers, journalists, politicians- really you couldn't remember- but what you would never forget was the way his eyes fell on you amidst the chaos of the afternoon, grounding him on his own world the two of you shared.

That morning Bucky had told you that he wouldn't run without you, but what he really meant was that he couldn't.

They said all the things you had warned him about. They scrutinized him to a degree that even his former captors would be impressed by and minimized his accomplishments so much so he wondered if they'd wipe his name from being next to Steve's in the museum.

Though, it ran off him like water with you by his side.

As evening turned to night and his phone finally stopped ringing, Bucky climbed under the sheets beside you.

And as your fingers traced the scars on his chest, humming his ringtone as you dozed off, he had a profound realization: how could the words of a stranger carry any weight when he received the love of a woman like you?

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes blurb #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #winter soldier #james bucky barnes

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agoodroughandtumble · 3 days ago

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Valentine's Day - Zoro x Reader

Status: Complete Summary: A fluffy/angsty oneshot for Valentine's Day Warning: Language (18+). These guys will never know they're in love

Even with the cold water lapping against your shins, the heat radiating from your drinking partner was enough to keep you warm. Increasingly aware that should you turn to face him the heat rising from your cheeks would give your thoughts away, you kept a steady focus on the water in front of you, the hard wood of the dock you sat on, the glint of moonlight against the gentle waves. It was annoyingly romantic.

Zoro was unaware. Zoro was always unaware. It was hardly surprising – the man didn’t have a romantic bone in his body, and even if that weren’t the case he had had ample opportunity to do anything other than this. Whatever “this” was. So. He clearly just wasn’t interested. Which was fine. Absolutely fine. Or at least it would be if you could look at him without a bombardment of gymnastic butterflies invading your stomach. It was pathetic really – the two of you sat in what Zoro would describe was a comfortable, drinking silence whilst the rest of the crews’ party raged on within earshot on the beach. You would describe it as increasingly awkward. Still, it was better than not being in an uncomfortable silence with Zoro. And so, inevitably, the patheticness continued.

You took a sip of your beer, swallowing thickly, waiting for the courage that usually followed inebriation. It wasn’t following quite as quickly as you liked. You were just going to have to ask. Or attempt to anyway. As long as he didn’t look at you. Or answer. Or hear the question. Or maybe just be aware of your existence anyway. This was, somehow, a new level of self-inflicted pathetic yearning. At least that was somewhat of a progression? Or maybe regression? Something different at least.

“So, erm,” you cleared your throat, “Any plans for tomorrow?” Despite your gaze still fixed firmly on the horizon you could feel Zoro’s eyes on you. Your fingers fidgeted against the bottle in your hand.

“What do you mean?”

His voice sounded sincere. Because of course it did. Because how could he possibly understand what you were asking the day before Valentine’s Day. “Well, you know,” you bumped your shoulder against his, trying to sound casual against your increasing frustration. “Valentine’s Day. Any plans?”

Zoro shrugged. “Guess whatever crazy shit Luffy will drag us into.”

In hindsight, you shouldn’t have been surprised. You certainly hadn’t been hopeful (well, alright, maybe, a tiny amount – that small niggling feeling that there might be something between the two of you…) but at least he hadn’t waxed lyrical about some over-elaborate plans made for Nami or Robin.

“Of course, yeah.” You nodded, hoping whatever confusion of emotions wasn’t written completely across your face. Turned out it was annoyingly difficult to keep emotions to yourself when you weren’t actually sure what those emotions were. “Same, just...vibing.” Oh, fuck. Now, that emotion you knew all too well. Just vibing? Might as well have said just being a sad bastard without a date, or just desperately waiting for the slightest hint of romance to detract from the whole Zoro had carved out of your heart only to completely neglect. Just vibing? Fucking hell.

“What do people do? On Valentine’s Day?”

You looked at him – couldn’t help yourself. And the earnestness in his eyes almost crushed you. “Oh, erm.” Your fingers fidgeted with the beer again, eyes dropping, focusing on the bubbles fizzing to the lip of the bottle. “Flowers, chocolate, dinner… I suppose.”

“Okay.” Zoro downed his bottle.

The awkward tension would have been back but he stood up before it could settle. You watched him walk back along the dock to meet the rest of the crew, your heart leaving with him.

The next morning found you on the deck leaning against the guardrail. The ever changing motion of the waves always calmed you – reassuring you that everything was temporary. Everything would pass. Even your feelings for Zoro would inevitably be washed away by the ebb and flow. And as you would forget the streams and rivers and fords of this hateful longing so too would you forget the springs. In theory. In reality in your peripheral you could see Nami and Zoro in very close proximity, and the fact that you couldn’t hear them only solidified your suspicions. Last night he’d asked you what people did on Valentine’s Day – today him and Nami were having a moment. The least he could fucking do was fall for someone you didn’t care about. At least then you could irrationally hate them.

It made sense. Zoro and Nami had known each other far longer than you had known either of them. She was beautiful, fun, intelligent and they wound each other up relentlessly. Of course all of their “bickering” over money was flirting. You should have seen it before. If you had known from the start Zoro would always be unavailable you wouldn’t have been so naïve to think you stood a chance. You just hoped they wouldn’t rub their insufferable happiness in your face. You could smile for the rest of the crew. You could wax lyrical about how perfect for each other they were. You could be happy for Nami. You couldn’t pretend to Zoro. He saw through you far too easily, and even if he couldn’t you didn’t exactly have a poker face.

You closed your eyes, focusing on the smell of salt, the gentle rocking of the ship against its berth, anything to replace the gnawing at your heart. If Zoro didn’t want it, he shouldn’t have taken it.

“What do you mean?” Zoro’s gazed fixed firmly on your face, trying to decipher the smallest flicker of emotion. You were staring at the horizon with a determination he often saw. Always far away, always something, anything that wasn’t him. He’d seen the same look on your face when you were head down towards your shoes. Every time, every single time, he’d tried to get the two of you alone you were always so focused on anything else. And yet every time you accepted his invitation. Why. When he’d asked you to have a drink with him on the dock he’d thought the pair of you could, fuck it, talk. But every time you were alone it was as if you wanted to be somewhere else.

This was stupid. It was too obvious. The faint music from the party in the background. The “clandestine” meet on the dock. The moonlight. He might as well be wearing a sign proclaiming his love. It was too much. Fuck. He always went too far. Too deep. Too… too Zoro. This was supposed to be a casual drink only now he was practically getting his dick out in front of you and expecting you to be totally cool. Fuck’s sake.

“Well, you know.” He felt your shoulder bump against his, “Valentine’s Day, any plans?”

His body tensed. Where you asking him, or were you asking him? He should say something romantic. Anything romantic. He should stay pick a star and he will get Luffy to catapult him into the sky so he could bring it back for you. He should. say. anything. “Guess whatever crazy shit Luffy will drag us into.”

Fucking stars. Fucking Luffy. Why is that in his head. It had started as a romantic gesture and now suddenly he’s wanking on about the captain. Shit, why didn’t he just drag Usopp and Sanji into the conversation too? That fucking love cook would be all over Valentine’s Day – he’s probably preparing a special dinner for you, Nami and Robin right now. Rose petals, candlelight, mood music… fucking curly brows. How could he do something so easily, so casually, so effortlessly when Zoro couldn’t even answer a question without sounding like a dick? Zoro knew how to train, how to fight, how to be a swordsman. He didn’t know how to make you smile. He didn’t know how to surprise you. He didn’t know how to convey the one fucking thing. The fucking thing.

“Of course, yeah. Same, just...vibing.”

Zoro almost felt the tone in your voice drop. You hid it well, but Zoro was all too accustomed. He had studied you almost as much as he had studied the sword. He knew every nook, every corner, every falter in your words. He didn’t need to look at you to understand how crestfallen you were.

Wait.

So… you wanted something? For Valentine’s Day? Maybe not from him, maybe (hopefully) not from anyone else but you wanted something. He could do something. It might not mean a lot but he could, would provide what you wanted. He could be a stand in paramour if that would put a smile on your face – hell, he could do anything if it put a smile on your face. “What do people do? On Valentine’s Day?”

For all of Nami’s intel and all her hype when Zoro started walking towards you the only feeling he was aware of was that of dread. He was aware that you would probably prefer anyone, literally anyone, to be approaching you but here he was – two roses behind his back because even with Nami’s help that was all he had managed to find. And fuck the pervert cook providing your dinner – he was going to. It was going to be awful and possibly inedible but he was going to do it. Flowers, chocolate, dinner. Two out of three. Maybe. Definitely one out of three. Definitely something.

“I got you these.” Zoro thrust the flowers at you.

The sudden noise made you jump – the two roses in your face made you stop.

He retracted them. “You don’t have to take them.”

“No, wait,” Finally finding some wind within your lungs in which to speak you took the two roses. “I want them. I’m, er, no. Thanks.”

Zoro stared at you. You stared back.

“Dinner’s in five minutes. Just us.” Zoro said, told you, before disappearing again.

You opened your mouth to speak but he was gone. And anyway you weren’t sure what to say. You glanced around you – the rest of the crew didn’t seem to be aware except Nami who gave you a bright smile and a thumbs up. You followed Zoro into the galley.

#olpa #one piece #zoro x reader #one piece live action #zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x y/n #opla x reader #opla x y/n

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doberbutts · 3 days ago

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I understand why you don't want to get into the nuance of what privilege is and such but I have been aching to every time I pass by someone talking about this post.

And you know what! I don't feel bad linking it, because it's free! Available for free from the mouth of the woman who gave us the concept itself! And you can pay just $4 for the rest of the essay!

Specifically:

For this reason, the word “privilege” now seems to me misleading. We usually think of privilege as being a favored state, whether earned or conferred by birth or luck. Yes some of the conditions I have described here work to systematically over empower certain groups. Such privilege simply confers dominance because of one’s race or sex. I want, then, to distinguish between earned strength and unearned power conferred systemically. Power from unearned privilege can look like strength when it is in fact permission to escape or to dominate. But not all of the privileges on my list are inevitably damaging. Some, like the expectation that neighbors will be decent to you, or that your race will not count against you in court, should be the norm in a just society. Others, like the privilege to ignore less powerful people, distort the humanity of the holders as well as the ignored groups.

And

Difficulties and dangers surrounding the task of finding parallels are many. Since racism, sexism, and heterosexism are not the same, the advantaging associated with them should not be seen as the same. In addition, it is hard to disentangle aspects of unearned advantage which rest more on social class, economic class, race, religion, sex and ethnic identity than on other factors. Still, all of the oppressions are interlocking, as the Combahee River Collective Statement of 1977 continues to remind us eloquently.

And

One factor seems clear about all of the interlocking oppressions. They take both active forms which we can see and embedded forms which as a member of the dominant group one is taught not to see. In my class and place, I did not see myself as a racist because I was taught to recognize racism only in individual acts of meanness by members of my group, never in invisible systems conferring unsought racial dominance on my group from birth.

You see, it's very interesting to me as I'm sure you're tired of hearing by now, that we've got the theory directly from the people who have coined the words, and for some reason we have a serious, grievous misunderstanding on what the theory is talking about.

To put it bluntly, privilege is about material benefits for being a member of an empowered class, and not simply something that you possess due to your identity. This is not just my understanding but the direct words of the woman who coined the word "privilege" to be used to talk about this exact concept. To say that it is not is actively going against the theory that surrounds the concept in the first place.

As for whether or not trans men have male privilege- that entirely depends on the trans man in question, is highly conditional and individual, and relies on a significant amount of overlapping dynamics of various systems of oppression. I don't know that Julie (but Jack in his head) who looks identical to any other cis woman and moves through life this way has a demonstratable amount of male privilege. I do think perhaps Roger, who looks identical to any other cis man and moves through life this way, probably does as long as he keeps his mouth shut about certain things. I think the same system that harms Julie is the one that uplifts Roger. I think this system hurt Roger quite a bit when he was still going by Kendra. And I think this system turns on Roger the instant it smells blood in the water, and hurt him very badly the moment it gets the opportunity

In this essay, McIntosh goes on to list a number of privileges she as a white woman holds over any and all black people. She relates most to black women- unsurprising as she namedrops the Combahee River Collective and is working primarily through an anti-racist yet deeply feminist lens- but does mention at times how whiteness grants her a shield not shared by black men's own male privilege.

This is why I always ask- what are you (general) defining as privilege? Give me an example, and don't just say it's because the demographic exists or by definition of identity. Identity is not privilege. How the world treats you, how society is structured to either lift you up or grind you under the heel, and the relative safeties or dangers of your life are what privilege amounts to.

If you (general) don't want to hear it from me, you don't have to. But at least read the damn essay so I can stop saying "that's not what privilege means though" every time I read a take like this.

i’m not even gonna break this one down bc “male privilege isn’t a material benefit it’s just literally not being a woman” i think pretty much speaks for itself.

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distracted-milkshake · 3 days ago

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Like ‘Em Weird - Steven Grant x reader

Warnings: bri’ish reader, non explicit sex, snogging tf out of Steven, general embarrassment, slight jerk Marc

Words: 4k

Rating: M

Summary: A fast moving relationship halts abruptly when the cute guy you met at a cafe wakes up a completely different person.

How you helped Steven figure out his body has multiple tenets, and that he doesn’t mind sharing it it’s you

I haven’t actually finished Moon Knight, so any inconsistencies or straight up false stuff is on me. Other guy isn’t here because I haven’t met him yet

Whipping up 1-5k oneshots while I can't get even ten in on my wip is such a me thing it's not even laughable anymore

Also! I have read a lot about DID and talked with friends who have it, and the portrayal of the reader does not represent kind or correct treatment of people with such issues at all, just wanted to be clear that I as the author know that and this isn’t any sort of handbook

AO3 link

“You gonna talk to me or just keep staring?”

Steven blinks, immediately feeling his hands and cheeks go hot.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was staring–!” He quiets as you stand and drag your metal chair the few feet across the cafe patio to his table, plopping into it.

“Hi.” He murmurs, eyes dropping to his lap as he wrings his hands.

”Hey,” You reach your hand over the table, flashing a smile, introducing yourself.

“Steven Grant.” He shakes it, adjusting in his seat.

“No worries, by the way. I never know how to start a conversation either.”

“I am so sorry, really, I hadn’t noticed. I uh, I don’t do that, I swear, I was just sort of spaced out.” He sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly, running a hand through his hair to get it off his face. “I don’t usually see a lot of pretty girls around, not ones that I find pretty– well, I mean there’re plenty of pretty girls, just not as– you just…” he swallows, wishing he could sink far enough into his chair to disappear from the face of the Earth.

“God I wish I could start over.” He says.

“This conversation, or since you started staring?”

“My life at this point.”

“Take as long as you need.” You grin.

“My name’s Steven, I work in a gift shop.”

“At the museum?”

“Yeah,” he nods, sitting up straighter.

“I knew it, I’ve seen you before! I love that place.”

“Ah! Me too! It’s ahm, probably about my favorite place in the world.”

He goes off about something having to do with history, half of which you don’t quite follow, but you listen anyway.

He tells you about several different exhibits from the museum he works at, stuff that isn’t on the little plaques, going on tangents here and there about the origins of popular misconceptions.

“…and that’s just off the top of my head; numerous examples of it.” He takes a sip of his coffee, suddenly seeming to realize something.

“Shit. Im sorry, I’ve been talking entirely too much. You want to tell me about you?”

“No, it’s cool, I get it.” You laugh. “You read a lot.”

“Oh loads, anything that interests me, I love books.”

“Music's my thing.” You say.

“Oh, do you play?”

“Nah, I collect. CDs mostly, vinyl sometimes.” You finish your drink, setting your cup aside.

“I’d love to get into it, but I should be going. Do you wanna get dinner sometime?” You ask.

“Yeah,” he nods and you pull out your phone, handing it to him to put his number in.

“I’m vegan, but anywhere you like is fine though. Saturday work?” He says.

“Saturday’s brilliant.” You click your phone closed when he turns it back to you, tucking it back in your pocket.

“Brilliant.”

“I’ll call you with the place. See ya then.”

“See ya.”

Saturday rolls around, and you get off the bus to a lovely little Indian place with a bounce in your step.

You had double checked thy had plenty of vegan options, spending the last few days trying and failing not to text Steven every half hour.

“Sorry! I got put on inventory again.” Steven huff as he bounds up to you, making you feel a little silly as he’s all dressed up.

“You’re right on time actually. I just came early.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” He says, exhaling heavily and straightening his back.

He holds up a “Um, these are for you.”

“Oh my God.” You smile, taking them from him and turning them over.

“I hate flowers, but that has got to be about the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Sorry, I’ll uh, I’ll remember that.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, I appreciate it. Shall we?” You gesture to the restaurant door.

“Oh– Of course,” Steven sidesteps to hold open the door for you, and you both head in.

Seated with your food on the way, you look your date up and down expectantly, to which he sets his drink down and explains.

“I am keeping my mouth sealed unless spoken to. Even if it means I’m staring.” He jokes at the end with a smirk.

“Sure you’re going to be able to stick to that?” You tease, taking a long sip from your mango lassi.

“Sure am. Talk to me.”

So you do.

You tell him all about where your from, your favorite band, the kinds of movies and shows you like, and he chimes in with his own, careful not to dominate the conversation with his preferred topics, which as much as you love the sound of his voice, you’re grateful for.

“You know there’s something special about you maybe.” He says when you’re about finished with your meal. “I feel like I just click with you. Is that weird?”

“No, it’s not weird.” You shake your head, meeting his eyes. “That’s not weird at all.”

You walk with him down the street, hands in your pockets from the slight chill, but keeping close enough your arms are almost touching.

It’s quiet, and it’s a comfortable quiet, but you can’t help but feel nagged at by a lack of something.

You come to an intersection, and Steven turns to you.

“Well, thank you, for going out with me.” You take him in, framed in the streetlight, messy hair and nice clothes, pretty eyes catching the light.

“I hope you have a great rest of your night–”

You push him against the brick wall of the building closest and catch his lips in a kiss, startling him as his hands hover over your shoulders, then your arms, before finding your back and waist, pulling you close.

He kisses back confidently at first, then out of sync, then trying to pull away, saying something muffled.

“Good?” You break the kiss to ask, wetting your lips.

“Yeah. S’prised me’s all.” He says, breathing heavy. “I just wanted to say I think you’re gorgeous.”

You pull him back into it with almost feverish urgency, pushing your tongue past his lips and to the roof of his mouth where you find his and press and move against it roughly, hand finding the back of his head to tilt just enough to have the perfect angle to explore.

You recede to let him breathe and Steven catches a dribble of spit with the back of his hand, looking mortified as he having no where else wipes in on his coat.

You bite your tongue to keep from laughing, wiping his bottom lip with your thumb.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Sorry that’s gross, I dunno if I’ve ever been kissed like that, I’ve no idea how,” he wipes his lips again.

“It’s not like movies. Very, very wet.”

“You talk a lot for someone who stares.”

“In the restaurant. Out here I’ve dropped it now. You know I don’t know if I want to be remembered as that guy in your head.”

“Something else, then?”

“I’m cool with gift shop guy.” He says as you give him lighter pecks on the mouth.

“Much better than spaced out Steven.” You giggle, tracing his cheekbone around back to his ear and down his beck, letting your thumb slip under his collar as you press your forehead against his.

“Yeah well, I find it hard to get a good night’s sleep.”

“I’d like to get a good one with you.”

“Hmnn?” His eyes flit to your lips and then back up to yours, bewildered.

“Oh, oh you mean!” He pulls back and gives an enthusiastic nod, a wide smile on his face.

“Hells yeah.”

“I like your apartment,” Steven says under his breath between dizzying kisses in your entryway, watching you alternate between his throat and kissing him with utter fascination, unsure how to keep up or what to do with just how expertly you’re making him fall apart.

“You haven’t seen it yet.”

You pull him by the wrist through your living space, past the couch to your bedroom, where you shut the door and shuck off his jacket.

“Do you have a condom?” He asked before you can devour any attempts he has at talking again with your mouth.

“Yeah, one sec.” You dig around in your nightstand drawer, pulling one out and turning back to give Steven a gentle shove onto the bed, climbing atop him and undoing his buttons with your free hand.

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” Steven says when you finish with his top and strip off your own, tearing the condom open and sitting back on your haunches. “This is unbelievable.”

You grab him by the chin, making his heart skip a beat. “Let’s aim for unforgettable.” You say.

Steven lays on his back, hands on his chest, having finally caught his breath.

“That was lovely.” He says.

“Lovely?” You repeat, stretching your spine, side eying him.

He turns on his elbow you look at you. “Lovely. Amazing. Mind blowing. All of the above.”

“Been awhile?” You chuckle, tracing his collarbone to his shoulder before hooking your arm over it.

“You have no idea.” As lost in your eyes he is, he pulls away to check the time, sitting up.

“I um, I should get back to my apartment,” he moves to get off the bed, and you sit up after him, catching his wrist. “Hey wait. Don’t be ridiculous, stay.”

“No, I uh…” Steven stops himself, not wanting to mess this up. If he told you he had some weird sleep condition, that he literally bolted himself to his bed to sleep every night for fear of missing hours or waking up places he didn’t recognize, he was certain that was the kind of thing that would scare you off.

That look you're giving him, that half lidded, cocksure smile, still topless and not even trying to cover it, it’s convincing enough on its own.

“That’d be just fine. Yeah. Yeah okay.” He relaxes back into the bed and you lean up and kiss him.

“Great.” You murmur, pulling him in and tugging the covers back over you.

Maybe just one night would be fine.

Marc wakes up in an unfamiliar room, with an unfamiliar woman in bed next to him.

You stir, burrowing your face into the pillows before you feel the bed spring back, blinking your eyes open and pulling yourself up just enough to see him retrieving his clothes from the floor.

“Hey, no rush, it’s Sunday, come ‘ere.”

“I’m sorry, you seem nice and all, but I was not supposed to wake up here.”

“What happened to your accent?” You laugh humorlessly, brow knitting.

“Accent? Jesus, I don’t have time for this, I’ve got to be in Madripoor in like two hours, that idiot was supposed to be back at his apartment.”

He gathers up the rest his things as he mutters to himself. “Yeah yeah I know, I can get to the justice after I get back to his apartment and sort things out there. I swear if this is what gets him… yes. Of course I’m grateful. I will handle it.”

“Hey, wait!” You pull a t-shirt and pajama pants on, following him into your living room, but by then he’s already got his shoes on.

He opens and struts right out your front door without another word, slamming it behind him.

Monday afternoon you take your lunch break to head down to he museum, stomping right up and into the corner gift shop, where sure enough, Steven sits twiddling a pen while he reads.

He sets aside both when he sees you, smile falling when he sees your face.

You plant your palms and lean directly over the counter, huffing.

“Hey, you know I really can’t believe I fell for your shy soft boy act, you pull that on everyone? Or was I just ‘special’ enough to catch your attention?”

“What? I– what are you talking about– hey!” He jumps up from his seat as you push back from the counter, folding your arms.

“I mean what on Earth is wrong with you!” You stare him down as he rounds his station to speak with you.

“Hey, whatever I said, I’m sorry? I don’t– I didn’t mean it– will you please tell me what you are talking about?”

“You jerk. Can you go one minute without lying? Rhetorical, because you obviously can, if it’s convenient to getting in my pants. God! I can’t believe I slept with you.”

“You slept with me?!” He exclaims, hunching over as a couple passerbys give him looks, making you roll your eyes. “Holy shit, I thought I dreamt that.” He says mostly to himself, tugging at the hair behind his ear.

You look at him, jittery, wrinkled clothes, chewing at his thumbnail.

“Are you high?” You ask, tilting your head to get a better look at his face, trying to make out if it’s a bruise or just bags under his eyes.

He quickly shakes his head. “No, no-no-no, I-I don’t do pills or anything. I mean, maybe I should, to be honest– but I’ve never done drugs of any kind.”

You throw up your hands. “Why would I believe you after yesterday!”

“Yesterday? Why– What happened yesterday.”

“Unbelievable. You know, you aren’t worth this. Don’t text me anymore.” You turn to the door, but his whirls around you in a panic, blocking you.

“Wait! Wait, please. Look I don’t know what happened the other night, but I assure you that's not me, I’m not like that, I would never say stuff like that, I’d never use you, I like you! I really like you, and I don’t want to never see you again.”

You study his expression, torn between how completely devoid of any sort of dishonesty it looks, paired with how desperate his tone is, and just who you remember walking out of your apartment.

“You’re acting completely different now.” You shake your head, hanging it and letting out a long sigh before looking back up at him, which you immediately regret because he has the saddest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. “I have to get to work. If you think you can explain to me just what the hell is going on with you, meet me at the park at six thirty, I’ll… I’ll hear you out.”

“Thank you,” he folds his hands, needing to shout after you as you make to leave. “I won’t let you down, I promise!”

You give a dismissive wave as you head out museum's front doors.

“…and that’s all I know, I swear.” You’re seated on a bench in the park. By now the sun has set, and the lights are the only illumination with a cloudy night sky.

“I believe you.” You sigh, letting the leg you’d been sitting on down from the bench to stretch. “How often does this happen?”

“Most nights. I’ve been trying not to sleep because of it.”

You shake your head. “Why the hell haven’t you gone to a doctor?”

“Because I can sort it, it’s fine. You go to a doctor if you're sick, I’m not sick.” He fiddles with his hands, realizing your looking at them he smoothes them down his pants and keeps them on his knees.

“Sleepwalking isn’t sick. It-it’s just like, stress, or something.” Even saying it aloud he didn’t believe it, but what was the alternative? That he was legitimately mad?

“Steven, look at me. You need to get help for this. That's mental. It’s not normal. Tell me you’ll get help.”

“I’ll look into it.” He scratches at his

You frown. “And mean it. You need help.”

“I mean it, I will get help.” He nods when you put a hand over his, pulling him into a side hug.

“Thank God.” You murmur.

Two months later, you and Steven are kind of dating.

Though your relationship had taken a big step back, you still texted and called him frequently. You didn’t feel like you could bring yourself to getting any closer, not when you still didn’t know who you had woken up in bed with.

Today he’s over for tea, on your couch with his hands folded, helping himself to the biscuits you put out.

You come back from putting the water on, stuffing a couple cookies in your mouth before he can eat them all.

“Oh! I erm, I got you a copy of that new CD from that band you like.” Steven digs around in his bag, pulling out a still wrapped album, handing it to you.

“Holy cow.” You scoff as you take it.

It was the newest release from your favorite band, and had been sold out everywhere for more than two weeks.

“I can’t believe you remembered. I’m putting this on right now.” You pop on the stereo, slow rock jams filling the apartment as the water boils and you bring the pot to the table, filling Steven’s cup.

“So how are you doing?” You ask.

“Oh, mostly good. I still haven’t figured him, Marc, out much, but I am sleeping better.”

“You figure out just what ‘he’ is yet.”

“No, still no diagnosis. I’m having trouble finding a therapist I like. I also, you know, not keen on institutionalization.”

“Right. Well I mean so long as he doesn’t decide to go on some break.” You grimace, wondering what the hell he could’ve had been up to in Madripoor of all places, if he’d even been serious.

“Beg your pardon?”

“Never mind.” You give your hand a wave.” I still can’t believe I’m how you found out.”

“Hey now hang on, I knew, I just didn’t know why.” He stands up to be at your height, annoyed.

“Or how, or what.” You give him a look.

“Yeah. But I did know.” He shrugs. “Even though he was trying to keep it from me.”

“Well yeah, probably because you’re the nice one. Marc is a prick.”

“The hell did she just say about me!?” Marc growls, catching his eye in his reflection in your tea kettle.

Steven blinks. “He didn’t like that.”

You draw your brow, frowning. “He can hear me?”

“Apparently? I don’t get most of it myself, I didn’t think he could hear me till like last week.”

You push off the back of the couch. “Tell him to come out here and talk to me right now.”

“Uh, right, sure, yeah. Marc, you heard her.” He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.

When he opens them again, you slap him across the face.

He cups his cheek, turning to look at you. “Still Steven!”

“Shit– I’m sorry!” You cover your mouth.

“You were going to smack him? But that’s me!”

“I thought– I didn’t think it through, really. Is he not there?”

“I can’t really make him come out, he just kind of does it if I let him.”

“I’m sorry I hit you.” You say.

“No,” he shakes his head. “He totally deserves it. Prick is right on the money.”

“Even so, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Already better.” He smiles. “Though a kiss wouldn’t hurt…”

You raise a brow and smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

You hang out a while longer before heads home, leaving you to think.

“I want to date her too.”

“What?” Steven looks up at his mirror from across the room. “You won’t tell me where you’ve been pissing years of my life away, what you’ve been doing, but now you want to meddle with the one good thing that’s happened to me, after you nearly screwed it all up? That’s rich.”

“I didn’t want much of anything to do with her until I saw the way she slapped you, I mean, that was unexpected.”

“She’s for sure, isn’t she? All the more reason you will not seeing her unless she asks.”

“Let me talk to her or I’ll break up with her.”

“We’re not together…ish. I don’t know, it’s not the simplest.”

“I’ll ghost her. Delete her contacts. You know I will.”

“Alright! Okay, fine. Jesus.”

He picks up his phone. “Don’t you negotiate in anything but threats?” He starts to dial your number, then stops.

“Hang on… you’re jealous, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You're jealous I have a girlfriend and you don’t. And she doesn’t talk nicely about you.”

“I’d stop talking now.”

“Holy shit, that’s hilarious. You act like you think my life is boring, but you envy it.”

Marc glares at him, jaw working.

“I’ll tell you what, I will set you up, but you have to tell me what you’ve been doing, and where you've been taking me.”

“Khonshu’s not gonna like that.”

“Again with bloody Khonshu. You’re flipping bending over backwards for that fool. Figure it out, cause that’s that.”

“Fine.”

“Perfect. Done deal.”

He hits dial. “Hey so uh, Marc wants to meet you. Properly. I’ve told him he needs to apologize.” Marc rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything. “Right. Yeah. Can you meet me?”

“This… Marc the Merc, the pissy one?” You say, looking him over. You’d met Steven not far from the museum, and held his hand while he relaxed and let Marc take over.

“Yes, it’s me again. Hi.” You meet his eyes, feeling oddly bothered by just how the same they look. It’s Steven, but it’s not.

It’s painfully not him, and yet you can’t put into words how.

“Hey,” you say, not sure what else you’re supposed to.

“Let’s get this part out of the way: I’m sorry I walked out on you. It’s Steven’s fault we were there at all, and I had shit to attend to, but I was less than curt about it.”

“Accepted, if that’s the best I’m going to get.” You nod, and he gestures for you to walk with him, so you do.

“I haven’t been keeping tabs. What’s he been telling you about me?” He says.

“Not a lot. I mean, he barely knows you, and neither do I.”

“There’s not a lot to tell. He’s not supposed to be tangled with my life, but, since he is, I figure we might as well share.”

You stop, and he does too.

“What?” He says. “I’m willing to be more open if you are.”

“What are you talking about? Are you saying you want to get with me?”

“Would you like to?”

He looks you right in the eyes, catching you off guard. Before you can answer he cups your face and kisses you, arm around your lower back, nearly lifting you off the ground.

You pull away, eyes wide, breath ragged, trying to get your brain to catch up with your body, realizing you're right in the street where everyone can see you.

“Too much?” He asks.

“No,” you shake your head. “Just– just surprised me.” It’s quiet for a moment.

“His apartment’s not far,” he finally says. “If you wanna see just how much of a prick I am.”

You stare up at your boyfriend’s apartment ceiling, wondering what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into.

You turn when you hear footsteps coming back to the bed.

“Hi,” he gives you a little wave, holding out a cup of tea.

You sit up on your elbows, slowly taking it. “Steven?” You say tentatively.

“Yep, it’s me.” You stand up, throwing back half the cup and setting it aside, swallowing. “Everything go okay?” He asks.

You nearly knock him over in a hug, burying your face into his shoulder.

“Better than okay,” you say, smiling against his bare skin.

“Really? Oh, Gods, that's a relief.” He wraps his arm around you, pressing his nose to the top of your head.

“Marc was different than I thought.”

“Now we’re even, he said he’d cooperate with me some more, so I think it all works out?”

“I love you. Both of you.”

“Really? It’s not too weird?”

“Hey,” you press a kiss to the bridge of his nose. “I like ‘em weird.”

Even though you had next to no idea what was to come, between you, Steven, and Marc, you were confident you would figure it out.

#steven grant #steven grant x reader #marc spector #marc spector x reader #moon knight #moon knight x reader #fanfiction #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #one shot #x reader fluff

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nameless-jamie · 2 days ago

Text

You And Me As Always

Valentine's Day Special - Day 5 - FINALE

Jamie Tartt x PA reader

Masterlist Valentine' Special

TW: cursing, jealousy

A/N: Hi guys I wanted to end this Valentine'S Special strong, so here's a ff with yall's fav pining pair Jamie and his assistant. Thank you for all the love this series received. I deem this series officially finished now! Maybe I will do something like this more often! I love you all. Happy Valentine's Day!

Valentine’s Day at AFC Richmond was always a bit of a spectacle.

Between the lads showing off their grand romantic gestures, the inevitable teasing in the locker room, and the ridiculous amounts of chocolate that somehow ended up in Jamie’s locker (half from fans, half from the team just to wind him up), it was always a thing.

And for the past few years, Jamie and Y/N had their own little thing too.

Every Valentine’s, without fail, they’d surprise each other with something small—nothing fancy, just a little reminder that they thought about each other. A coffee waiting on her desk with a heart drawn in the foam, a sticky note in his locker that said Try not to be a dick today—Happy Valentine’s. It was never a big deal.

At least, that’s what Y/N kept telling herself.

Because it wasn’t a big deal.

Except, maybe, it sort of was.

Because she was hopelessly, stupidly in love with Jamie Tartt. And he, being Jamie, had no clue.

Which was why she had tried so hard this year to actually do something different. Both of them actually didn't do a thing for each other this year...

She had a blind date tonight. To get her mind of their thing.

Rebecca had set it up, going on and on about how Y/N needed to “get out there” and “stop wasting time waiting for things that might never happen.” Which was fair. It was probably about time she tried dating again.

So why did she feel like bailing?

Maybe it was because she knew how tonight would go. She’d go on the date, make polite conversation, and the whole time, she’d just be thinking about how much she’d rather be spending the evening bantering with Jamie.

But whatever. It was fine.

It wasn’t like Jamie actually wanted to spend Valentine’s with her.

Right?

The locker room was full of buzzing energy that afternoon.

The lads were in rare form, all hyped up and comparing their plans for the night.

“Gonna be massive, lads,” Isaac declared, clapping his hands together. “Got a whole weekend planned—spa day, private dinner, the works.”

“Mate,” Bumbercatch shook his head. “You just won Valentine’s Day.”

“Oi, I always win Valentine’s Day.”

The guys laughed, each chiming in about their own plans. Sam had something elegant planned—dinner and dancing. Dani, of course, was “taking Valentine’s Day as an opportunity to celebrate love with the whole world!” Which, for him, probably meant a party with half of Richmond.

And then, predictably, someone turned to Jamie.

“What about you, Tartt?” Colin smirked. “Surely the great Jamie Tartt’s got a big night planned.”

Jamie, lacing up his boots, just smirked.

“Oh, yeah. Got a hot date.”

The guys whistled.

“Ooohhh, Tartt’s got a mystery girl,” Jan teased.

“She’s well fit, right?” Isaac asked.

Jamie leaned back, completely unbothered. “Fittest girl I know. A model.”

And then, without meaning to, his eyes immediately flicked toward Y/N, who was busy folding Jamie's dirty football kits... That was certainly not her job.

She hadn’t looked up. Hadn’t reacted at all.

Was she even listening?

He frowned slightly. Not that he wanted her to react.

Except, maybe, he did.

“You’re being weird about it, boyo” Colin teased. “That means it’s someone we know, yeah?”

“Maybe.” Jamie smirked. “Maybe not.”

The guys groaned.

“Such a prick,” Isaac muttered.

“Yeah, yeah.” Jamie rolled his eyes. “What about Y/N? You got plans tonight?”

Y/N, overhearing her name, turned around just in time to see all the lads looking at her expectantly.

“Oh. Uh… yeah, actually,” she said, clearing her throat. “I have a date.”

Jamie’s smirk immediately dropped.

The fuck?

Since when did Y/N have a date? Since when did Y/N go on dates in general?

“Wait, wait, wait.” Dani waved his hands. “You? A date? But it’s always you and Jamie on Valentine’s Day!”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“Yeah, you two always do your little… thing.” Sam smiled. “The coffee and the notes, the little looks you give each other. It’s like a tradition.”

“That’s—” Y/N faltered. “That’s not… I mean, yeah, but it’s not like a thing.”

“Sounds like a thing,” Colin grinned.

“Shut up.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “And yes, I have a date. Rebecca set it up.”

Jamie frowned, arms crossing.

“A blind date?” he asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“Yeah.”

Jamie scoffed. “That’s fuckin’ stupid, love.”

Y/N frowned. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, c’mon,” Jamie said, leaning back against his locker. “You don’t even know the bloke. Could be a proper weirdo.”

“Or he could be great,” she shot back. “Not everyone’s a weirdo, Jamie.”

Jamie shrugged, hating the way his chest felt tight. “Still think it’s stupid.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Of course you do.”

He wanted to say Don’t go.

Instead, he just huffed, looking away.

And for the first time, Y/N really thought about canceling.

She lasted exactly seven minutes at the restaurant.

She had shown up, sat at the table, and listened to her date talk about his favorite wine pairings for way too long before realizing she wasn’t even really there. Physically, sure. But her mind? It was somewhere else entirely—somewhere that smelled like expensive cologne and fabric softener, somewhere that had an annoying yet undeniably attractive accent teasing her about how stupid blind dates were.

She had barely muttered an excuse before she was out the door, coat wrapped tightly around her as she stepped into the cold night air. But now what? Going home felt wrong. Like she was admitting defeat. And if she was being honest, there was only one place she really wanted to be.

So she found herself in front of Jamie’s door, hands shoved deep into her coat pockets as she bit her lip, debating whether this was a really bad idea or just a regular bad idea. She hadn’t even texted him. Had no clue if he was home. But for some reason, her feet had taken her here anyway. Maybe because, no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, this is where she belonged.

When the door finally swung open, Jamie leaned against the frame, raising an eyebrow as a slow smirk played on his lips. “Well, well. Thought you had a hot date.”

She rolled her eyes. “Thought you did.”

Jamie shrugged, stepping aside to let her in. “Yeah, well. She bailed. Some last-minute modeling thing.”

She snorted, kicking off her shoes as she walked past him into the warmth of his flat. “You’re full of shit.”

“Am not.”

“Jamie.” She turned to him, arms crossed. “You never had a date, did you?”

He hesitated for only a second before giving her a lopsided grin. “Maybe. Maybe not. Guess we'll never know.”

A laugh bubbled out of her, and Jamie took that as a win.

“So what happened?” he asked, flopping onto the couch, patting the empty space beside him. “Blind date bloke turn out to be a twat?”

She sighed, sitting down next to him. “No. He was… nice.”

Jamie made a face. “Nice?”

“Yes, nice.” She pulled a throw blanket over her lap. “But I didn’t want nice.”

Jamie’s smirk faltered slightly. “No?”

She shook her head. “No. I wanted this. Our Valentine's thing.”

Jamie’s throat went dry.

“Not normal Valentine’s Day, or big grand gestures, or some random guy Rebecca thinks I’d like,” she continued, voice softer now. “Just… this.”

Jamie swallowed hard.

They sat on her couch, watching dumb movies, sharing cheap chocolates, and teasing each other relentlessly.

And when she dozed off halfway through the film, leaning against Jamie’s shoulder, he barely breathed.

Because it was always them.

And no matter how much they tried to pretend otherwise, it always would be.

#jamie tartt #ted lasso #ted lasso show #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #afc richmond #jamie tartt imagine #Jamie Tartt x PA #valentine's day

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