#(Once I fully finish all of this to explain my version of him. Yeah; he's fun and pretty cool as a bad guy; but he also needs a reason.)

[thewalrusespublicist]

Paul and Linda Interview from Hellllllll

@slenderfire-blog as the patron saint of good sources sent me this interview and I thought I would write it up as it gives a worrying insight into the famed idyllic marriage and Paul’s mental state at the time.

Reader, it was not idyllic and he was not doing well.

Disclaimer: For context, this interview is in his Broadstreet era aka the grief/midlife crisis/I cant have a meltdown if I’m making a film period. I fully believe that Paul was having an extended emotional crisis/breakdown post John's death/successive unresolved and badly handled traumas. (As I was saying to @slenderfire-blog, let's just say if he feels like crying every damn day about John in 2021, imagine how it was in 1985.) So yeah Paul is having a time and I look forward to McCartney Vol 3. for potential confirmation and illumination on this.

At the same time JESUS FUCK PAUL THIS IS TERRIBLE.

Like so bad, bad to the point I now feel like contemporaneous Peter Cox account is 1000% more credible as this is essentially the PR version of what he said. So let's get into the greatest hits:

The happy, definitely-not-in-trouble couple

They do seem to adore each others company, be locked in with each other and Paul does rely on her a lot for support and approval:

As they talk, Paul constantly squeezes Linda’s arm reassuringly, strokes her hand or looks to her for approval or agreement whenever he makes a point. The two are inclined to talk at once or to finish each other’s sentences. At times, the link is so tight, they seem almost like different aspects of one person.

Though at the same time they both describe the relationship as 'rather volatile' and full of arguments where they go and sulk in different rooms. They lightly play it off but then Linda says a bit too seriously that shes usually the one who gives in first :/.

Paul built the house they live in and are sort of obsessed with cosplaying living the 'peasant' lifestyle with no help save one housekeeper Rose who is from Paul's bachelor days and the occasional babysitter (as far as I'm aware this is true).

The marrying thing in 68 was so intense he even asked lil HEATHER to marry him what the hellllll (of course he wasn't serious but it does feel like another way of indirectly pressuring Linda to commit). He also kept asking Linda until she gave in.

Random swipe in the baby name department at Zowie Bowie, lmao not friends with the Bowies then (good thing Duncan Jones happens to agree).

They romanticise the bickering and volatility as being like passionate young lovers

“My parents were married for 25 years and they were like young lovers,” says Linda. “Paul’s parents were the same. If you’re lucky, you get that in life. You see, those are the kinds of things that matter to me—not the diamond necklace.”

Paul:

Paul is clearly not okay and seems to be regressing by trying to recapture his childhood through his current situation. Throughout the interview Paul keeps going back to his parents marriage and his childhood as the ideal frame of reference. This is pretty standard but Paul takes it to the extreme of this meaning no friends, family only and the wife do all of the labour.

This (save the misogyny) is a far cry from his 60s revolutionary kick but I can see how this happened in the wake of the Beatles split, the trauma and complex grief from John's death and the press. In response and defense to the criticism and hurt, Paul seems to have retreated wholly within himself and his family sphere and is coercing Linda into fulfilling the role of the wife within that. Take for example, his portrayal of the housework and why Linda should like to do it:

“Linda really doesn’t like housework,” Paul explains, “because when she grew up, her family had maids and she wasn’t taught to do anything. But it’s something I’ve tried to tell Linda about because in the kind of family I’m from, housework is considered a pleasure—the smell of ironing and the laundry. Where I’m from, once a week, the women would sort of get the laundry out and smell the washing and feel it and see it and iron it all, and they’d be chatting or listening to the radio. It was like a peasant thing. It was an event, like treading on the grapes.

It's bonkers and infuriating and at first I was like I DONT KNOW PAUL IF YOU WANT THE PLEASURE OF SMELLING DETERGENT SO BAD YOU CAN DO THE BLOODY LAUNDRY. But then you realise how Paul connects it with comfort, especially with comfort after a bereavement:

“Growing up in Liverpool, that was always there for me. Even after my mum died, my aunties came around religiously every week and cooked and cleaned the house and did the laundry and provided that kind of atmosphere for us.”

It's romanticising the poverty he grew up in but also signifies to me how much it's a coping mechanism. He wants Linda to do the laundry and have that idealised maternal domestic atmosphere as in his head if you have that then you can carry on even in the face of cataclysmic loss.

Denny Lane's comments about Linda being like a mother to Paul feel really pertinent here. Reading all this has kind of reinforced to me this idea I've had for a while that Linda's maternal attributes was one of the foundational pillars of Paul's attraction to her and an essential part of their marriage. In another interview I'll post another time, he says they never went on holiday without the kids, with them taking tiny Heather on their honeymoon. It wasn't just tours, the kids really did go everywhere with them when they could and they made sure the children's bedrooms were just next door to theirs so they could be there all the time. It's great, wonderful parenting but also with the genesis of their relationship it's really hard not to see Linda and the promised family as the replacement to fill the hole from the Beatles. Not saying that he didn't go on to adore them and them be the pinnacle joy of his life but yh ... once you see it it's hard not to unsee. (Also the thing I've always been too scared to say/wild speculation again I don't know these people ... but I think they would have always had these problems until Paul actually reckoned with his mothers death/other traumas.)

Thinking about it all as well, it must be so hard to essentially cosplay the culture and background you grew up in with wealth and class separating you from everything you used to intimately know

Aggressive optimist Paul telling a very different story here (is he more honest here, more depressed, or maybe somewhere in the middle?)

“I’ve got all these contingency plans. I tend to look at the worst side of things. I’ll say, ‘If they turn us down, we’re going to do this.’ If anything hurts me, I want to fight it—so it doesn’t hurt me again.”

Nothing to add just ... ouch.

Reinforcement of John refusing to let Paul hold Sean because Paul 'didn't know him' ... which yh that is some bullshit its a baby. Paul goes onto mention how John wasn't great with babies as he had no experience whilst he had and somehow makes it borderline a competition lmao.

HALFWAY THROUGH I REALISED THIS WAS THE INFAMOUS PLAYGIRL 'JOHN SAID JEALOUS GUY WAS ABOUT ME' INTERVIEW. I NEVER REALISED LINDA WAS THERE.

Not him essentially saying 'in hindsight maybe Linda needed a lot of lessons' for Wings and admitting he just wanted her there. They both seem to accept it as something that wasn't fair to expect of Linda with no training.

He does this embarrassed little giggle like 'oh I may be a chauvinist YES YES YOU ARE SORT YOURSELF OUT.

Linda ohh my GOD Linda girl

She has rings around her eyes from exhaustion

Gets up at 7am to do the breakfast every morning despite going to bed late

Said she didn’t want to get married again initially as she had been controlled by men all her life until then

Says her kids are her best friends and that she never had a friend until she moved to Arizona later on (this is interesting to me that both Paul and Linda both saw themselves as 'loners' in childhood even though interviews from people in Paul's childhood repeat that he was popular. Maybe this was a narrative in their marriage or maybe Paul always felt internally lonely).

Qualifier here: I also don't think the best friend thing is true, there are a few people that pop up over the years who say they were very close to Linda and one did a lovely interview with Paul post Linda's death. I think the whole 'family is all you need schtick was part cope and part PR.

From apparent tradition Paul says that he doesen't tell her how much he's worth and their money situation as 'his dad didn't tell his mum' (even though his mum was integral to financially supporting the family may I remind you Paul). Linda girl listen I can make you happy I can give you a good life and treat you to nice things come with me Linda-

Theres one point where Linda PANICS because Paul mentions the supposed socialist uprising potentially taking all their money because HE WON'T TELL HER WHAT THE FINANCIALS LOOK LIKE. THIS FUCKER (also socialists Paul you're a northern liberal get a grip you class traitor)

They both romanticise living frugally with Linda not buying any nice fancy things ... its hard not to remember Peter Cox's account of Linda asking to borrow money when reading this :(((((

Linda's idea of a luxury holiday is not having to cook and clean and she can have fun :( Paul then interjects with 'yh that's great for a bit but not all the time as isn't it nice to have the family all in the kitchen!!' I'm sure Linda would agree if you actually helped Paul.

In summation: he needs help and a slap, she deserves a statue but would probably prefer a sit-down. Thank god there’s a lot to suggest that Paul has improved massively when it comes to his view on women and labour (wouldn’t have married a working businesswoman if they hadn’t) but this is still a difficult window into how things were in the 80s and the life that campaigners like Yoko were fighting against.

[mxtantrights]

Jason todd actually loves the holidays. But he has a hard time letting anyone know that. He's dealt with some tough shit. Death by joker, reincarnation by Ra's.

He didn't think that the holidays would be a thing for him. Why would it be? He has so much blood on his hands. Too much. He tries his best but sometimes it isn't good enough. He's no hero.

"Jay can you pass me the marshmallows?" you ask

He gets out of his thoughts. He reaches for the bag next to him and hands it to you. You thank him and continue on.

You're putting together your famous hot chocolate. He's never had it before. He met you in the early spring. Well he met you in late winter but you two weren't that close.

So as the seasons changed and you went from friends to something a bit more to a fully realized relationship, he found himself here. With you in the middle of winter.

About to try your version of hot chocolate.

It had all the works from what he can tell. He had the grocery list you sent him for the drink. Chocolate syrup, hot chocolate packets, big marshmallows, a bag of mini peppermints, and some of the sweet biscoff cookies.

He watches you work from near the oven, your back turned to him a bit. You pour the hot chocolate over the marshmallows in both cups. Then you swirl the syrup over that.

"Bub, can you break the peppermint for me?" you ask.

Jason, with a big smile on his face, grabs the bag of peppermints. He unravels about ten before you tell him it's more than enough. Then he places them in a ziplock bag. He reaches into the kitchen drawer to his side and pulls out the hammer.

Then he's carefully hacking at the candy. You watch him with a smile on your face. His tongue is peeking out of his mouth a bit from keeping concentration on the task at hand.

"Good?" he asks, then he lifts his head up.

You nod and he hands you the bag. You open it up and try to equally empty it over the two cups. Once the bag is empty you leave it on the counter.

Then you grab both mugs by the handles. You bring them over to Jason on the other side of the kitchen island. He takes the one in your left hand. But he waits for you to take your sip before he takes his.

His eyebrows go up. "Woah."

"Wait wait wait, hold on." you say.

You're quick to open the cookie bag. You hand him a biscoff. He watches as you take one of your own and dip it into the drink. He follows your move. Both of you take a bite of the cookie at the same time.

"Oh my god." he says with his mouth full.

You laugh, "I know. It's pretty great."

"How'd you figure out all of this tasted good together?" he asks.

You finish chewing and then take a sip. You put the mug down.

"My granny who isn't supposed to eat sweets, she told me this is the reason why. She had this every day when she was my age. Got lots of cavities and temporary allergic reaction to peppermint." you explain.

"Oh?"

You snicker, "She still drinks it every Christmas though. Whenever I come over and make it. You can have your second when she comes to visit."

"Introducing me to your granny, huh?" he teases.

You nod, "I plan on locking you down pretty quickly."

Jason smiles, and he doesn't know it but he also blushes. A red tint on his neck and his cheeks. You can't help to laugh at that. He takes another sip of his hot chocolate.

Yeah, he really loves the holidays. He loves you more.

[axcel-lucci]

Fishman!Law X human!reader

A/n: so apparently fishes lay eggs... ehem... also, I tried my best :P

Tw: smut. Dirty... dirty smut.

My masterlist

(Y/n) and Law have been together for a long time now, Perhaps 2 years tops? Even she wasn't sure.

Law had saved her from nearly drowning one time, when she was thrown off the ship by her own fellow crewmembers.

He brought her to his home, which was just an underwater cave that had looped around to a big massive dome with a pond in the middle, how does it work? (y/n) and Law questions to this day.

"Hmm... law" she called as they had entered his home once more

"Yeah...?" Law hummed as he placed her down so she can change from her wet swimsuit to some dry clothes she keeps in there.

His eyes were gold with inky black surrounding it, his arms had scales but he had the ability to make them blend into his skin as he was drying off, his four arms looked so delicious with his muscled chest making her stare a bit before snapping back

"I was wondering, I researched some things about this and that."

"This and that?" He raised a brow at this and looked at her while she looked at him with a tilted head. 'fuck-- she looks so damn cute-' he thought to himself but played it cool

"Yeah. You know, about fishmen? I wonder if... fish and fishmen are the same? I mean... they are both fishes, one is just... human like?" She asked herself the last part

"And what did you discover?" He turned to now look at her fully as he was dried up

She hesitated for a bit before shrugging, "that fish lay eggs" she said before stepping over to him and look him in the eyes with pure fascination, "can you lay eggs?"

Law was beyond embarrassed and ashamed at this point.

Yes, fishmen do indeed lay eggs, after all, they're just evolved versions of fish so that's not really something that should change.

He cleared his throat, "i-i mean... we do but... it's weird to explain, so bare with me"

She got all excited and nodded before he motioned for them to sit down at his big soft bed

"We can lay eggs, but... the eggs usually form in the female's body. Though... some types of fish can lay eggs without any other DNA in it... I'm still researching how that is even possible."

"Oh..." she hummed, mesmerized, "so... you can't lay eggs?"

Law debated whether to be truthful or not, eventually he settled to be truthful. He sighed deeply, "my... bloodline can lay eggs without... you know..." he blushed intensely

"I see" she nods with a smile, "but how does that feel though? Like... do you produce eggs while cu-"

"Shut--!" He cuts her off with a hand on her mouth and him blushing furiously

She giggled, "I understand Law." She smiled before kissing his cheek, "do you mind if I use your desk for a bit? I need to finish my homework..." she cried

"Oh that's right, you decided to go back to college, right?"

"Yep...! I want to provide for myself not by stealing or fighting, I want honest money." She said excitedly

"Sure, go ahead." He smiled softly before pressing a kiss against her lips, "just make sure to clean up right after."

"Thanks Law...!"

Later...

"(Y/n)" he called as she hummed from the desk, "I've been thinking... I want to live with you." He states making her pause

"What...?"

"I want to live with you, I want to be with you, not just periodically. I want to move in with you, now that you're back to school, you need someone to take care of you." He states as she paused her studying all together to get up and sit down next to him on the bed

"Are you sure? What about... this? Your home? Aren't you gonna miss it? It's not like you can carry stuff in and out of here" she mumbled

"I can visit from time to time I suppose" he nods, "I can figure it out. Don't worry"

"If you say so..." she smiled and kissed him deeply

He smiled as well before reciprocating the kiss which eventually lead to one thing and the other, the two eventually making out heavily on the bed while slowly shedding off clothes.

Law only had a few articles of clothing making him growl and basically tearing her clothes off of her

"L-law...!" She gasped and covered herself in embarrassment

"Hey now. Don't be shy" he pouted before taking her hands and placing them over her head, leaving him with three free hands that started exploring making her gasp and whine at every whim.

"Those were my favourite pajamas...!" She huffed with a pout

"I can buy you another" he smirked.

Truth be told, despite being a fishman, he's a high paying doctor with a reasonable time. (Which itself was quite rare to begin with)

She just pouted even more making him chuckle and kiss her

She then gasped once more when he pulled her legs away and his other hand play with the wet flower that bloomed in between

"Mmh... I haven't done anything yet and you're already wet... this is our first time, no?" He asks before kissing her again and pushing his fingers inside.

She moaned and threw her head back, Law physically grinned darkly before biting and sucking on her skin as a way to mark what's his, which was all of her

"L-law...!" She whined as her back arched when his fingers brushed against the spot inside her

"Oh... here?" He smirked before playing with the spot making her see stars and eventually come undone with shaky legs and gasping for air. As well as being dazed enough to not realize his hold on her was disappearing for him to take off his own clothes.

"S-so big..." she muttered once she grounded herself when she saw his member, "would that... fit?"

"We can always make it fit" he smirked as his hand then trapped her wrists together over her head once more and his other two hands secure her legs over his shoulders and eventually holding unto her hips.

His remaining free hand took hold of his own member and rubbed it against her wet entrance teasingly making her whine, begging for him to continue

"Alright..." he smirked before starting to push himself inside.

The sheer size of him made her walls stretch unforgivingly as she gasped and moan at how hot it suddenly felt

"L-law...! A-ah... wait..." she gasped once he's fully inside, "s-so big..."

"So tight" he groaned with a chuckle as his free hand from before gripped her thighs and started to grind against her and bite his own lip

"Law-" she gasped before starting to moan and whine

"You're ready" he muttered before gripping her hips rather tightly and raising them to a comfortable position only for him to mercilessly start to pound and abuse her cunt in the most pleasurable way possible.

Causing her to toss and turn in her position while gasping, moaning, and even whining for him to go faster despite his already rough pace

"Faster? Heh... why not." He smirked before adjusting their position swiftly and fulfilled her request by going in and out of her poor sorry cunt as fast and as roughly as he could

It didn't take long for (y/n) to come around him once the tip of his own dick started pressing against her cervix with immense pleasure.

With her coming around him, it just fueled him more as she gripped him rather tightly, sucking him back in as it grew slippery around him, letting him go in and out as much as he wanted.

He could feel his own release coming and his dick feeling heavier and heavier with his eggs.

(Y/n) could already feel the outline of his eggs inside his dick, ready to burst

"W-wait law" she gasped, "I don't think-"

"Shh..." he leaned down to her ear and bite it rather harshly, "just keep moaning like the pretty human that you are."

She gasped and moaned as she felt another climax build up inside her and suddenly release.

Law couldn't take the heaviness anymore and just shoved himself deep inside and release all the eggs stored in his body along with his warm cum.

(Y/n) moaned loudly at the feeling of the eggs filling her up, some of it even pressed rather dangerously against her cervix, one move and the eggs would directly go inside it.

By now there was a bulge by her lower abdomen and the eggs kept coming making her moan and beg law to put it somewhere else

"What a GREAT idea" he grinned darkly before pulling her hips so that he could press deeper inside her and his tip basically pressing against the cervix, the eggs started to enter her deeper inside making her gasp and moan even more

"L-law...! Not in there- I won't be able to- ahh-!" She moaned loudly as her legs shook violently, her insides was now probably filled with his eggs and she doesn't know how to take them out.

It just formed a lumpy bulge on her abdomen making her pant heavily and moan even more until the very last one of his egg slipped past her cervix and deep inside her womb.

"L-law..." she moaned once he slowly pulled out and a few eggs were already starting to spill out but he only put them back and prevented any of them to get out.

"Shh... it feels so good, Huh?" He bit his lower lip once she started squirming and the eggs moving inside her rather deliciously.

"L-law... please... how-" she gasped once law plugged that hole up with some device most fishmen use on their partners so the eggs don't escape.

"I said shh" he rolled his eyes and laid down beside her, he felt her legs immediately close and tighten before rubbing against each other, "hey now. Don't tell me you're getting off of our babies being inside you, Huh?"

"B-but law..." she looked at him with such cute eyes but he already saw those eyes a million times before and not be affected by it

"This calls for some punishment" he chuckled before flipping her over so that her chest was against the bed, his hands once again trapped her in place before thrusting inside her unprepared ass making her scream in pleasure.

"L-law...! You're not planning to-"

"I so am" he smirked before starting to thrust more harsher than before.

Her whines and moans, coupled with her begging for more, despite complaining about what's inside her womb being rubbed against her.

"I'm close" Law chuckled making her moan, "law... please."

Her voice was hoarse at this point. And just like before, his dick grew heavy until he can't take it anymore and spill his eggs inside her now wet anus as she moaned with tears in her eyes.

It felt so much more erotic, being filled with eggs on both sides as he plugs the holes up tightly, not letting any of the eggs escape

"There. We can just clear them tomorrow" he chuckled before laying down beside her spent form, a now large buldge on her abdomen as he softly strokes it's lumpy surface, "you know... I don't mind you giving birth to my children" he hummed at the idea

"Law!"

"Just kidding, don't worry. We can take them out safely tomorrow, even the ones inside your ass and those that were pushed through your cervix." He smirked at the mental image of (y/n) being so full of his eggs they start to slip out themselves.

She grumbled before eventually drifting off to sleep while Law watches intently and kissing her cheek.

"I don't think I'll be able to control myself tomorrow..." he chuckled to himself.

He eventually drifts off as well with a hand on her abdomen.

[double-barrel-paintbrush]

more Curse of Strahd ideas you can steal {for dms}

(again spoiler warning for the campaign also sorry I haven't given out more ideas had a bit of creative block for like...a long time also dear god this is really long so brace yourself)

Gadof Blinksy is an artificer (maybe multiclassed?) that uses his magic skills to help make toys and also has enchantments on some to help protect the children of the country well as make his toys more fantastical for the children. {I kinda fixated for a while on this silly man and wrote way too much stuff about him. I imagine he knows spells like Mending for fixing porcelain dolls and like heat metal for making toys out of well metal. As for the protective spells these enchanted toys hold one spell and can activate once per day like a banshee doll that casts Alarm or a rabbit plush that can cast expeditious retreat. Spells that also work for this are guidance, invisibility, lesser and greater restoration, rope trick, darkvision, aid, sanctuary and so on and so forth. Cuz for the love of god SOMEBODY has to protect the kids.}

The consorts of Strahd each have a magical item that tethers them to him in a sort of telepathic link so if something happens to them he'll know IMMEDIATELY. {Part of my campaign is gonna be taking down the consorts one by one either from killing them or making them turn on Strahd. And something about my version of Strahd is despite the fact his consorts are only there to fill the hole Tatyana's death created truly cares for them so anytime one of those two options happens Strahd kinda sorta maybe goes on a rampage á la Vlad Dracula Tepes from Castlevania}

The Morning Lord and Mother Night are twin deities. As well as they're also deities of the past and the future respectively. {Just thought it'd be cute. And also to explain why the Mother Night gave Madam Eva her accurate divinations. The church of the Morning Lord deal in things like funerals and memories for the past. The church of the Mother Night deals with things like weddings or births for the future. Could also be part of why Baba Lysaga worships the Mother Night)

Father Donavich's first name is Gabriel and which makes Doru's last name Gabrilovich. {Just because Father Donavich in the module doesn't really have a first name. And neither does Doru have a last name so uh yeah.}

Some characters like Victor are now neutral. As well as Helga and Piddlewick II. {Thought it'd be more interesting if these characters weren't fully evil that's all}

The older consorts Strahd has like Ludmilla are full on vampires for he trusts her not to betray him. {This is mostly so the consorts have the full capability to betray Strahd. Both the monster manual and Baldur's Gate 3 have vampire spawns be fully loyal no matter what to the vampire that sired them}

A couple group names I came up with but haven't finished making the groups are The Coven of Blood and the Court of Rats do what you will with those. {Just thought it'd be cool}

The horses that carry Ez's magic wagon are named Rubinus and Safir respectively. {They're both words for Ruby and Sapphire in different languages just like Ez's name is another language's word for emerald. Thought that'd be cute}

Also Ezmeralda has a gun as well as a crossbow that shoots wooden stakes. {I saw somebody I think on youtube have the idea that Ez has a gun to give the concept of her being the future of monster hunting while Van Richten is the past I added the crossbow as part of my own spin on that idea}

The people with souls tend to be younger as the soul gets taken to a baby maybe within a few minutes after birth and sticks there within five years. {Cuz people die all the time in Barovia the opposite I think is also true that people get born all the time in Barovia. And because of that more children tend to have souls more often than the adults. The soul not really sticking til five years is based off the idea of people "gaining consciousness" around five or six. and also to give magic users a time window to try reviving whoever had died as well as an explanation for babies dying from SIDS as the soul had returned to the body via revivify.)

Wereolf Ireena? Just a thought. {An intrusive thought I had a couple days ago}

Strahd's goal maybe instead of making Ireena into a vampire bride could try to tie the soul of Tatyana into a vessel that won't ever leave him. Aka Vasilka. {As an add on to the idea of Ireena being a werewolf Strahd may see the fact she is one as a deal breaker because Tatyana surely wasn't a werewolf. Also because I think after four or five times of getting Tatyana and then losing her has probably made him and everyone in his court tired of the cycle. So Strahd would rather end it entirely.}

the name "mongrel"folk (not sure if I'm gonna have that as their actual race name maybe like chimerafolk or something) was an insult to the Belviews by the Abbot because he just despises the poor things so much. He also created the first of this race using the bodies of the Belviews and animal corpses as an experiment for making a flesh golem that was perfect for Strahd's undead bride. {That's honestly about it. Tho if I do call them chimerafolk I will have to probably hear Nina Tucker jokes so yeh}

Volenta has a fight club. That's it.

People in Vallaki gossip that Rudolph van Richten is in the country. Maybe making jokes about him killing Strahd. {Just wanted a reason for 1 Strahd to know about van Richten being in the country and 2 so I can have a bit of npcs making Chuck Norris jokes but with van Richten}

That's about it hope this helps

[grayintogreen]

ROSEVERSE OST VOLUME ONE

Contains the inspo tracks for the first three fics in Roseverse. Also has liner notes under the cut because I have to explain some of these.

One Good Reason- Eric Stuart Band This is basically the song that inspired the things you hold most dear may not survive another day and kinda remains the main theme for Huskerdust in this first part of the series.

The River Won’t Flow- Songs for a New World So some of the songs on this playlist are not necessarily here because they fit moments, but because in my undying dedication to canon accuracy as close as I can manage, there’s moments where I’m like “SONG GOES HERE.” And in lieu of writing my own (because I can’t), I just flailed around until I found a song that fit the “vibe.” In this instance, this specific vibe this song offers suits a song about Lucifer reacting to the suggestion of sealing his powers and how this will showcase his humility (while hinting that he is EXTREMELY HUMBLED BY EVERYTHING).

Nobody’s Side- Scott Coulter I have so many covers of “Nobody’s Side” and not a damn one of them really fit the vibe I wanted here, so I just dropped the least offensive option. In an ideal world, a technoswing version of “Nobody’s Side” would be sung when Husk confronts Alastor about being Angel’s bodyguard.

Brave Face- Delta Goodrem Just a cute little song for the Chaggie moment in Chapter One.

Lithium- Nirvana I was going through a playlist of songs with sick guitar riffs and just was like “Yeah, Adam in the middle of a rage depression playing Nirvana on his guitar is fully what I wanted from that scene.”

Comfort Eagle- Cake This is simultaneously the perfect song to be playing in the background for the Adam and the Vees confrontation, but also god I want a musical number between Adam and Vox that is basically Comfort Eagle But Broadway.

The Fool- Ryn Carver Angel and Husk’s conversation as they leave the hotel in Chapter Two.

Kiss Quick- Matt Nathanson More Huskerdust pining, but now they’re at the porn studio.

VBS- Lucy Dacus Vaggie and Lucifer’s conversation in Chapter Two.

A Good Man Is Hard To Find- Bessie Smith Alastor at the end of Chapter Two in Eve’s domain.

Bottom of the River- Delta Rae Alastor’s flashback.

Hell on Heels- Pistol Annies Meet Eve! She’s awful!

The Lamb- Dessa Husk and Alastor’s conversation in the radio tower.

The Judgment- Elvis Costello Husk stands up for Angel.

Don’t Say Yes Until I Finish Talking- Christian Borle and the cast of Smash Another one of the “I just want a song here and can’t write one.” This song is actually specifically invoked in the prose even. In an ideal world, a song with this exact rhythm and sentiment would be performed by Vox (and occasionally Val trying to get a word in edgewise) during the confrontation at the studio. Bonus points for being sung by Vox’s VA.

Doing the Best That I Can (Escape From Berlin)- Stevie Nicks Husk and Angel’s “not-a-date.”

You Are the Problem Here- First Aid Kit Eve and Adam at the end of Chapter Three

The Rhythm of Life- Sweet Charity ONCE MORE WITH FEELING. This song does not fit the moment, but it’s the specific energy I want from a Vaggie and Angel number about her training him to take charge in the escape room.

We Both Reached For the Gun- Chicago Honest to God, the Radio Duel between Lucifer and Alastor is supposed to be this, but I could not write it out in the way I wanted without being obnoxious, but trust me that is what it’s supposed to look like.

Secondary Characters- title of show Bonus track of Chance and Diana realizing they’re the main characters while Husk and Angel are trapped in the closet.

Work Your Way Out- Ani DiFranco If you want to give yourself heart palpitations, listen to this song while reading the scene of Husk and Angel in the closet. It’s great.

All For Believing- Missy Higgins More Husk and Angel pining at the end of Chapter Four.

Feeling Good- Nina Simone Casino Demon theme.

A Tisket, a Tasket- Ella Fitzgerald On the Sunny Side of the Street- Ted Lewis Wishing (Will Make It So)- Vera Lynn

These are the three songs playing when Husk visits Al in his room, chosen for specific reasons. The first is for dissonance since it’s a silly little song that starts us off on something that is meant to be intimidating and creepy. The second- also for dissonance- is a friendly, cheerful song to play over the tension of Husk and Al’s conversation. The final song is indicative of Husk’s mental state.

Shape of My Heart- Josh Groban, Leslie Odom, Jr. In my head the Huskerdust sex scene would turn into a more reserved fantasy as the two of them distance themselves from the fact that they are, you know, on camera by singing a duet. Honestly, this song works almost perfectly for it with the card motifs without having to just hold it up for vibes.

Gunning Down Romance- Savage Garden SONGS FOR HUSK RUINING EVERYTHING.

Two Evils- Bastille My DM once played me this song at a pivotal moment in the narrative we were running and it’s stayed with me ever since. It’s got the perfect ambiance for Alastor and Husk’s conversation at the diner.

This is Gonna Hurt- Sixx AM Angel in the limo at the end of Chapter Five.

End of the World News- Tom McRae I imagine this song playing over a montage of scenes at the top of Chapter Six in the aftermath of Angel’s defection.

Capital G- Nine Inch Nails Adam’s broadcast.

Don’t Scare Me Papa (Axeman’s Rag)- Squirrel Nut Zippers Song specifically invoked by Alastor because he’s a nerd.

Holding Out For a Hero- Bonnie Tyler SIEGE OF VEE TOWER LET’S GO.

Wreck- Mieka Pauley Eve at the end of Chapter Six.

Candleburn- Dishwalla Lucifer at the top of Chapter Seven. Everyone cry.

Someone to Fall Back On- Jason Robert Brown Husk and Angel, the morning after.

Eat Them Apples- Suzi Wu Jez, who is absolutely NOT Eve, even though her theme seems to have so much Eve related imagery. Cannot imagine that’s relevant.

bury a friend- Pomplamoose Alastor gets his shit dragged out in front of everyone and Charlie gets her feelings hurt. (Thanks Eve.)

Secret- Denmark + Winter Vaggie and the gang at the diner learning all the Unfortunate Things.

Sabbath Incantation- Thom Yorke Charlie and Jez and the seal.

Case of the Ex- Mya Eve’s ascension and Adam’s death.

Walk Through the Fire- BtVS Cast This is my “Charlie drags herself out of the ruins of her dream” song as the gang prepares to face Eve. Obviously it’s not beat for beat perfect, BUT IT’S THE VIBE.

Nothing Left to Lose- Jeremy Jordan, Eden Espinosa This on the other hand… Listen, I wrote that conversation between Lucifer and Eve with this song in mind. In my heart, it’s being sung between them in that moment, only with slightly different lyrics.

I Didn’t Know I’d Love You So Much- Repo! The Genetic Opera See above. Literally wrote Charlie and Lucifer after Lucifer gets STABBED with this song in mind.

No Return- Craig Wedron, Aanna Waronker EVE FIGHT TO THE TUNE OF THE TOXIC FEMININITY THEME.

Wings- Birdy Charlie’s ascension + the power of love.

Forget About the Blame (Moon Version)- Trans-Siberian Orchestra, Lzzy Hale Lilith returns.

Last Exit to Eden- Amanda Marshall Aftermath, which does include Alastor eating Eve so that’s fun.

You’ll Never Leave Harlan Alive- Kathy Mattea Six months later. I went through so many damn covers of this song for one that fit.

We’ll Meet Again- Vera Lynn And here we are in red, red roses and dead things. This is the Vera Lynn song Al plays for Charlie as he’s giving her the tour.

Weeping (w/ Ladysmith Black Mamba)- Josh Groban Lucifer trying to help and FAILING.

I Never Promised You a Rose Garden- Lynn Anderson Or “lyrical dissonance my beloved.”

Fingerbreaker- Jelly Roll Morton The Chicago Strut- Jelly Roll Morton, Gregory Hines, Keith David The two songs that Husk and Al perform while getting sloshed. I don’t think the second one has a sax in it at all but I’m Bad At Music. It does have Keith David though!

[soul-heart-and-beyond]

Negaduck Headcanons! (Pt.1)

This is probably the most ambitious that I will get with exploring a character like this. Not only because I really like Negaduck (More than I talk about him. I generally do this with a lot of characters because you guys got your thing, and I don’t want to damage that character for you because of my portrayal or showing you all with my love for them. Yeah, I hold my feelings back, but I have good reason for that.), but because with all of the weird fluidity his story and character has backing it up. 

This isn’t going to be like the definitive version of him, I’m not sure if there will ever be one, but this is just how I see him and want to explore some of the less thought about concepts with him. There’s been stuff about him doing things because of NegaGosalyn or NegaMorgana, but this one’s going to be different. Consider this just a rework to make him more... realistic? (Sounds like a terrible idea since he doesn’t seem to work well with that, but just give me a moment.) At this point, I just want to share or project some things that could work once given good thought and consistency to his background.

I might have to split this into parts like the others since this one’s gonna be preeety long.

The best place to start off is with the concept of the Negaverse in general, which is supposedly everything nearly turned upside down compared to the common universe (I guess Primeverse but it’s hard to say honestly?) we see, the Disney Afternoon universe. Given that, heroes are villains, villains are heroes, ordinary people are grunts or the street trash would actually be good people, or dead, that too. It’s a place where evil or bad prevails over good, and while the good does stay strong, so does the evil that maintains the universe. Maybe it’s a boring concept, but to me at least (Though that doesn’t instantly make it good because I like it.), it allows for more interesting debates on morality, what doing the right thing is, and how should consequences work. It’s a glimpse into a world dominated by bad and the good thing there is to be bad, do bad, instead of being good and to do good like it is over in the regular DA (Disney Afternoon) universe. I wanted to touch upon this with Nega Fenton and eventually other counterparts of the muses I have, but since this whole guy is that concept personified, might as well do it with the one that started the whole mess.

Granted, Negaduck’s first appearance in the show is Just Us Justice Ducks, it kind of just skimmed over who he was an just got to the point of him being a villain, something that can really confuse others as most villains usually have an origin story to them or are already pre-established in the world before the hero does. It does give some mystery as to who he was, but since his origin of becoming Negaduck, of even finding the cake that had a dimensional rift inside of it and allowing for him to traverse from dimension to dimension. However, since there never was an episode to explore that and the comics were close to getting to his origin, it seems like he does have some potential to explore several avenues depending on circumstances. 

It could be like a situation where he lost NegaGosalyn (And while that seems more likely for Darkwarrior Duck to happen and we see she’s alive in Life, The Negaverse, and Everything, you can chalk it up to this being the mallard that was in the Negaverse, not the common verse, he could turn this way, so that’s an option.), or where he loses NegaMorgana like it was going to be seen before the comic got cut (Similar circumstance to NegaGosalyn, but it also wouldn’t feel right given that he doesn’t seem to have an attachment to common universe’s Morgana, while Darkwing felt empathy to NegaGosalyn. Sure, you can say that when Negaduck was trying to get Gosalyn to be his little partner during the latest comic run of Darkwing Duck, the Jailbreak one [Orange is the New Purple?], but that could have been some remnant of Paddywhack, you know, that interdimensional demon that did show interest in her in the show?) 

Anyway, it just doesn’t seem likely for him to lash out at everyone when NegaMorgana dies or disappears, and the same for Gosalyn since in the show he knows she’s alive, and just doesn’t seem to bother with her much anymore. She’s like a gem that’s lost it’s luster, a used up toy, something that he barely comes back to anymore. And if it’s because he lost her due to a custody battle, it wouldn’t make sense since the Friendly Four explain it upfront that he is Gosalyn’s carefaker, her parental figure, her father. Not only that, but he had to have been doing this this for a while since Darkwing Duck was Darkwing for some time before he met Gosalyn. Of course, he was a minor vigilante, but after meeting Gosalyn, Launchpad, Taurus Bulba and his henchmen, he did get more recognition from there on. Given the idea of somewhat polar opposite universes, it would mean that Negaduck was Negaduck before meeting NegaLaunchpad and NegaGosalyn and ultimately his first encounter with NegaTaurus Bulba.

Another point to address is Negaduck’s real name. You can think of his name as just Negaduck or Jim Starling, Jim Sterling, but for me and this rp blog, the OG Negaduck is Drake Mallard. For everyone else in the Negaverse to go by the same name and respond to that name like their common universe counterpart, and for Negaduck to be the exception? Doesn’t really make sense, and given how he is an evil Darkwing Duck, it only makes sense for him to be Drake Mallard. There have been other series and franchises to do this sort of thing where the character would actually be different like Owlman to Batman from DC Comics. Owlman from Earth 3 isn’t Bruce Wayne, and some characters like Superwoman of Earth 3 is actually Lois Lane. It works there but that’s because it fits that franchise. To fit Disney’s, Negaduck would most likely be Drake Mallard. 

Given that, it is safe to say that his life obviously is not like Darkwing Duck Drake’s as his whole universe is built around the concept of being bad is actually good. So his experiences with his childhood of him being bullied, clowned on, getting wrecked in high school for the first half of it were out of him just being overall bad at being bad. He did some nice things here and there, got punished or bullied for it, and still somewhat had want to do it again. Though over time, and especially around his junior year of high school, the general consensus or the norm of being bad finally clicked. He’d done it before several times, yes. It was what he was being taught at school, besides other useful things that would be needed later on in life. Pretty much, he snapped after being ridiculed for his soft personality, and out of defiance, was willing to kill everyone there. He didn’t get to take out everyone, but he did for the first time fully embrace how good it was to be terrible, to kill, the satisfaction of getting what he wanted or most of it. That day, he was forever changed, and ready to create some mass carnage and despair for his own personal enjoyment.

Knowing that his little prototype outfit for the event where he was ridiculed from wasn’t exactly going to make him look menacing, he sketched up some drafts as to what he would really want for himself to be seen as. Some had overly large fedoras, others had torn clothing, and some had on so much black, belts, and zippers that it just seemed too silly. Eventually, he would come out with his well known attire, and also acquired some orange-scarlet contact lenses to complete his change from Drake Mallard, the one cerulean-eyed wimp that couldn’t do much and was seen as a nobody by society. Instead, he was going to be remembered, he was going to feared, and he was going to be the one thing people worry about most. After all, being remembered was the only thing of value in life, and those that were remembered were the nasty, vile, ruthless, terrible, and just plain malevolent people. They were great because they brought forth a force of fear and anxiety with them, and he was going to be the next one.

After that, Negaduck would out in the streets of St. Canard, terrorizing the people, stealing money and valuables away from banks, stores, and factories, all of the while trying not to get on the radar of some of the superheroes that would clearly want to stop a low level villain like him. After all, he had no powers, was considered barely above a common grunt, but that was to give them a false sense of security. Whenever he wasn’t constantly planning his heists, having “fun” with the civilians, or just doing evil, despicable stuff just for the fun of it, the thrill it gave him, he was furthering him study of different martial arts, techniques, and overall strategies. Sure, the opponents he managed to rack in against their own free will weren’t nothing much but living body bags for him to test out his moves on and not much else, but whatever he could memorize, the real test would come when he was out in the field. With that, he gained some more firepower and artillery so he could slowly increase his status to the well known criminal overworld. 

It wasn’t too long that his face became somewhat well know around St. Canard, and by this point, he was bathing in that recognition, that glory, of being noticed as a menace to society. Of course, he’d have to scram whenever some of the hero chumps like Megawatt (Mega Megavolt) and Harlequin ( Nega Quackerjack), but he was doing better, getting better at being such a blight on the planet. Though his feats before meeting a certain girl and guy on a fated day were small, they were elevated to new heights afterwards. On another casual routine of giving the police a hard time, he saw some goons trying to take some sweet looking young duckling. She just looked so perfect in the sense of the ways on how he could ruin her day, make her cry, the works, and with that in mind, he went and fetched her from those men, but not before dusting off his knuckles on them. Yet he could feel something unusual about this girl as she seemed to appreciate him “saving” her from the strangers. Whatever they planned to do with her wasn’t going ot be nearly as bad as what he had, but she seemed to be somewhat thrilled at how cool and badass he was taking those guys out. It was... kind of charming to see someone actually compliment him out of genuine interest instead of fear.

While driving the young girl back to his home on his customized motorcycle, he wondered if he should indulge himself by keeping this little one around, to show them the ropes, and eventually see them become about as bad as he was? No one was going to be worse than him, but he was fine with them being second place onward. He was only worthy of number one. But as he continued to think about it, it started to seem like he was getting soft. Some of those small traces of Drake Mallard were trying to crawl their way out of what he was, and he couldn’t let that happen. He was no longer that person and definitely didn’t want to be associated with that name. It was by now the girl had asked him his name, and he responded with only, “Negaduck.”. After all, she didn’t need to know much else about him, and certainly nothing of his past life. Once arriving at his home, he let her off of his vehicle and they entered the house and took a break from all of the action that waited outside. Negaduck then decided to ask this girl for her name in return, and learning that it was Gosalyn, he kept that in mind so he could call her by that name. 

For a while they talked about different subjects, like what the other was going to do, and for Negaduck his case was simple, just continue destroying and tearing stuff up, while Gosalyn, she seemed to not really have a set goal in life or after their meeting. This came as a good opportunity for him to propose making her his protege so she could actually get on by in the world, though she’d probably have to ditch the cutesy looking garments she had on. He was astounded to see how quickly she accepted, though it seemed to have been influenced by her not having any parents or adult figures to take care of her. It did tick him off with the potential idea that she might be just putting up with what she could get at the moment, but given how her innocence seemed, it could be that she was just relieved to have someone to take care of her. He’d file in some adoption papers in the morning, but he’d have to know what orphanage she was from. With some more talk to continue on that note, he got the answer he was looking for, and a little more, some information about someone trying to take her, but for what reason? She thought the guys that he knocked out earlier had something to do with this person, and it seemed like a time slot just opened up on his schedule to go ruin this person’s day, or perhaps their life. 

Now that he had some time to relax and get a better understanding of what happened to Gosalyn, Negaduck took her along with him since she would know who he was talking about. Zooming through the streets and past the other vehicles that were in the way, the villain was still assessing himself. Why was he doing all of this besides pleasure? It’s not like the guy Gosalyn knew was going to get him any more famous, but he was wrong, as there were some of the same guys he let live and more on motorcycles with guns, ready to fire and probably willing to kill too. Now this was some action he’d been waiting for, the cops wouldn’t give him this type of attention. Drifting a bit and holding his fedora with one hand to make sure it wouldn’t blow off of his head, Drake grinned out of excitement as he continued to drive, but now he could get some better information out of these goons. Pulling off some close quarters saves and near fatal stunts, the two were able to make it out of the chase with one or two fellas still in pursuit. That was good. It meant his competition would be rough.

(End of Part 1!)

[shurisneakers]

if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically.  “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up. 

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.”  He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

[hozierandco]

Callum Turner x Reader - After-match, Part One (smut)

A/N: Since I'm very much obsessed with Callum Turner at the moment, I felt it was only fair I give it a go. It gets smutty towards the end, announcing a second part that will be extremely smutty. Read at your own risk.

When Callum's favourite football team is qualified for the final, Y/N has an idea in mind for the after-match. For obvious reasons, set before Covid.

"Chelsea qualified for the Final!", Callum shouted with a large grin on his lips and a tear hanging "Chelsea's in final!"

On the other side of the apartment they shared was Y/N who was watching Vikings on her computer. She shut down the laptop and reached out for her boyfriend of two years, throwing herself in his arms "Yeah! Good job! I'm sure you screaming for most of the game has something to do with it"

"Hey! For once, it's not you who's screaming!" Callum smiled with an even bigger smile, proudly exhibiting his teeth. He plucked Y/N off the floor and kissed her while she was still in his embrace "They're going to that bloody final!"

Y/N who could not resist her boyfriend's smile, joined in and together they started singing Three Lions.

There were four days until the final since the other team still had to get qualified. Although Y/N was not much of a football supporter, when a competition was on, she could not do any other way than to hear about it.

Callum was passionate to say the least. Chelsea in the final of the Premier League was absorbing all his energy. It was a miracle he was in London for it and not on yet another set. Y/N wanted her beau all for herself but a round ball was in the way and she could not compete. Or maybe she could?

Tottenham Hotspur would fight against Chelsea. Callum was more than excited at the idea of such a great game. An ecstatic Callum was even sexier than the usual version of him, which was already pretty damn irresistible.

But anytime Y/N teased Callum, hinting at the fact that he could take care of her, there was a notification popping on his phone: "Harry Kane hurt during training, could remain on the touch", "According to specialists, could be the greatest game of the season", "Bet on Upcoming Games", which distracted him from her.

Callum had been invited by a friend to see the game and eat pizza at his. In the meantime, Y/N would have a night out with the girls.

As Callum was about to leave on the night of the game with a pack of lager, Y/N stopped him as he passed the bedroom. Her too was close to leave and was finishing her makeup as her lipstick was in her hand.

"Hey! You were not going to leave without telling me goodbye, were you?"

"Fuck! You look gorgeous in that dress!", he nearly dropped the beers when he saw Y/N in a black dress made of velvet. The fabric was stroking her lines whereas the tiny straps showed her soft arms.

"I have a deal for you", Y/N offered as she drew a wave of red on her upper lip.

"Oh yeah?" Callum asked playfully as he grasped her hip with the hand that was empty, to have her closer to him. He was only a few inches of fabric away from her nudity and had to fight his urge to remove her dress.

Y/N came even closer as she whispered in his ear "If Tottenham wins, I get to do anything I want with you tonight. But if it's Chelsea, then I'll let you do anything" She went back to seeing him eye to eye "Deal?"

"That doesn't sound fair"

"No?"

"No... I mean you know nothing about football.. With Kane down, Chelsea stands its chance of winning"

"Who said I didn't want Chelsea to win?"

Callum held back a noise that got stuck in his throat and that ressembled an animalistic growl.

"Y/N... I swear if I wasn't already late, I would have ruined that dress of yours by now"

Y/N smiled and for sole answer kissed Callum on the cheek. Callum's phone buzzed to signal him his cab had arrived.

"I'll see you later, baby!", Callum said on the threshold, ready to hurtle down the stairs.

"Can't wait!"

Callum took the cab he had booked towards Islington where his friend lived. It was not until he was seated in the back that he felt a slight discomfort in the region of his crotch. That bloody dress, he thought to himself, hoping his erection would disappear by the end of the journey.

***

"Hi!", Melina, Y/N's colleague cried when the latter arrived at the pub.

The parvis in front of the establishment was packed with supporters who in turns had Tottenham's or Chelsea's scarves.

"Hey! How you're doing? Do you think we could go somewhere less crowded?"

"Are you kidding? It's the final. Anywhere we'll go, it's gonna be like that!", Melina had raised her voice to be heard.

"... At least here they serve a great fish'n'chips", Charlotte added.

Well at least she would know her fate for the rest of the night.

In Islington, Callum arrived. The commentators were already getting excited on the telly as Callum could hear from the threshold.

Callum hugged everyone there after he had set the beers on the table. Amongst them were comedians that he had met during film festivals but had not seen in years.

If the whole friend group was loud at first, making small talk and helping themselves to pizza, when the anthem started, they all got quiet.

The pub too went silent. In both the pub and at Callum's reunion, everyone had their hand on their bosom and sang along the players and the stands.

"Welcome everyone! The game starts now!", one commentator explained.

The defence was good on both sides and the tension began growing.

One missed opportunity for Chelsea later, Y/N received a text.

Cal, 9.14 pm: It's gonna be a long night Y/N, 9.16 pm: You have no idea!

Then, the release came.

Callum and his friends echoed the neighbourhood's screams.

"It's a goal for Chelsea!", the commentator exulted in the back though no one was paying attention to him, too busy celebrating the action.

"We'll be back after the break"

Cal, 9.53 pm: You can already take your underwear off. It's coming home, baby!

Y/N, 9.54 pm: Don't wear any...

Callum nearly choked on a slice of pizza when reading his girl's text. It would indeed be a long night.

The game was on again. Was it the excitement winning the crowd over or the humiliation of the goal they could not have stopped but Tottenham marked only seven minutes later.

Y/N, 10.11 pm: Looks like you'll be all mine tonight after all!

Cal, 10.14 pm: Ain't I always?

Y/N was now fully engrossed in the game, on the edge of her seat, careful as not to miss anything from her chosen team.

"You've kept your cards close to your chest. You're into football after all, huh?" Carey, a friend from college teased Y/N.

"Cal and I have a bet for tonight. My life depends on it"

The six friends laughed at the remark.

A session of penalty shoot-out had been whistled by the referee to settle a final result.

Cal, 10.51 pm: Good luck, baby! Y/N, 10. 51 pm: To you too, Cal!

The situation was excruciating. All the attendees in the bar were biting their nails. Callum and his friends had stopped drinking and in fact were competing as to know would hold their breath for the longest time.

The very last shot was for Eden Hazard, on Chelsea's side. If he marked, Y/N would have to surrender to Callum's fantasies. But if he missed the net, she could put to the test all the scenarios she had in her mind for the past few days.

Eden Hazard advanced on the penalty area, breathing in and out. Y/N breathed in and out too. Callum had won the breath-holding contest.

A few seconds later, the referee whistled the end of the game, making cheerful and despondent people in the audience.

[solomonish]

Way To Go MC, You’ve Allowed Yourself to be Poisoned (Demon Brothers)

CW for: descriptions of food and eating, brief descriptions of choking-like symptoms. (mainly in the intro, though the individual stories mention coughing, (light) blood and fainting). there will be talk of food and keeping an eye on what is being eaten in the individual character stories as well.

Ahh thank you nonnie! I got tired and stopped at the demon brothers but I’ll finish the nowdateables later if you want! Which let’s be real, I’ll probably do soon because I wanna write for Solomon lol

I hope you like it!

---

It started off like any other night, with you grabbing a seat at the dinner table as the last of the food was placed in the middle. Someone beside you took your plate and gave you your portion for you, smiling at your murmur of thanks as they set it down. You waited until the last person, Levi, sat down, smiling at him as he muttered something about finishing a level to nobody in particular. 

The moment you ate your first bite of food, something felt...off. Your tongue was tingling the slightest bit and you swore you could feel an uncomfortable heat follow the food as it slid down your throat. Thinking it was just a weird Devildom spice - after all, you’ve been here for how long? and nothing has happened yet? - you take another bite and immediately regret it.

Though such a food was no big deal for demons, it was powerful enough to knock you out of your chair and hunch over, grabbing your stomach as you cough forcefully in a desperate attempt to get the food out. Your insides were burning, your airways closing in and your chest crying out in pain the more you coughed. Soon enough, tears clouded your vision, and though you could hear the chaos around you, the only thing you could focus on was what felt like fire burning you from the inside out.

When you start coughing:

The moment you let out a little cough, his eyes are on you curiously. It’s just a remnant of the days when you were still so new to it all: the fragile little human makes a strange noise, be prepared to save a life.

He almost let his eyes fall from you, but he noticed that you weren’t stopping. It wasn’t the first time you had caused a scene at dinner, saying something afterwards about it “going down the wrong tube.” Still, this seemed...different.

When you fall off of your chair, he’s out of his before you even hit the ground. He’s kneeling by your side a second later, trying to tilt your head towards him so he can fully understand what is happening.

He finally realizes that you aren’t just choking and this is much more urgent when the blood starts coming out of your mouth.

He takes his attention away from you for a moment to ask who cooked dinner, and the brothers promptly rat out Mammon.

Though Lucifer is clearly agitated at that, he decides to lecture later and instead ask what Mammon put in the dish. Everyone erupts at once about halfway through because “How could you have forgotten what that will do to a human??”

That’s the last thing you remember for yourself - whether from the poison itself or being unable to breath through all your coughing, you passed out fairly quickly afterwards

Taking care of you afterwards:

Lucifer isn’t the type to panic in the moment. He’s very accustomed to taking the lead and having everything under control.

That’s in the moment, though. When he has Satan mix up the remedial potion, he’s fine, checking over you and keeping his brothers a safe distance away while he makes sure you’re still breathing. Once you’re safely in bed, brothers having been banned from your room until at least morning, and he’s the only one left lingering in the doorway, that’s when it all begins to set in.

There’s less regret and more general uncertainty in these moments - it starts with him wondering if he should really leave you alone, and soon enough it spirals into him reminding himself just how careful he needs to be with you in the Devildom. (And really, after taking charge of seven demon lords on accident, isn’t it just like you to get killed by a spicy leaf? Honestly, he should’ve known better.)

Once you finally do wake up, he tries to act like his normal “down to business” self - “I’ve told my brothers they are not to overwhelm you today, though we both know how that will go. I’ve made Leviathan figure out what bland foods are safe for humans, you’ll have to take it easy for now as your stomach is still irritated. Let me know immediately if you feel woozy or nauseous for any reason-” He prattles on and on, and though you’ve stopped paying attention you can still feel the softness in his tone

He tries to be gentle with you, and you have to remind him that you were just poisoned, not bedridden for months. Sometimes he’ll shoot you a glare and try to justify himself by saying it’s just like you to make another foolish mistake, but others he just won’t say anything and will keep the hand he has placed on your lower back “for safety”

Firmly believes in establishing as many preventative measures to keep this from happening again, so the next few weeks are going to be....a lot.

Sets up an alarm so he can remind you every lunch not to pick any of the “not safe for humans” options. Probably also gets you a seat in a class that goes over poisonous plants in the Devildom. 

Do not try to skip this. It’s easier for everyone if you just let him ease his mind how he likes.

When you start coughing:

At first, Mammon assumes that you just heard the joke he made and (naturally) started laughing so hard your weird little human body couldn’t take it

So essentially, you start choking and he starts laughing at you thinking you’re laughing together

That all stops the moment you fall out of your chair and double over, suddenly dry heaving on the floor.

He sort of short-circuits for a second, not entirely sure what to do until one of the more knowledgeable brothers stoops down beside you

They tell him to just keep your airways clear and make sure you’re still breathing while they go to get the elixir they need, and he does. It’s one of the few times they see him so serious - he just doesn’t want to mess up, so he doesn’t focus on any of their comments or bite back

(”Gee, Mammon’s actually stepping up for once” “Yeah, too bad he was the one that poisoned them in the first place”) 

(Lucifer: he WHAT)

Taking care of you afterwards:

Mammon is usually the first thing you see in the morning, so that doesn’t come as a surprise. What does surprise you is how quiet he’s being. 

When you sit up and groggily ask, “Is something wrong?” (barely getting the words through your swollen lips) he is torn between trying to say something smooth (”N-not now that you’re okay!! not that i care....”) or calling you a dumb human. So instead he just stares at you

Eventually you can get it out of him what happened, and it explains why your face feels like it had been burned and your stomach feels gross

Mammon says he’s going to come up with a surefire way to protect you so nothing like this ever happens again, but his version of protecting you is sticking by your side 24/7 and he already does that so?

You’re the one that’s going to have to take the lead. Make a list of common ingredients that are SUPER deadly to humans and make sure you both have one for reference

Soon enough, though, he figures out how he can help you without your guidance and you catch him pointing out what’s safe without you having to ask

He follows you to the lunch line and examines the clear plastic boxes until he can point out a few human-safe options. He’ll bend to whisper in your ear in line at some fast-food joint. If you’re not sure, he’ll be the first to ask before you even remember that’s something you should be doing anyway.

He’ll even try to make dishes he thinks you’ll like without the poisonous ingredient! Sometimes it takes a few tries but if he wants you to try something with him, he WILL make it himself

When it comes to you, Mammon really will give you the best care he can. Sometimes he just needs that extra push to think things through.

(And if this wasn’t a push. a hard shove. over a cliff. into shark infested waters)

(don’t do this again, mc. his demon heart can’t take it)

When you start coughing:

Levi has never mentioned how his brother don’t normally speak much to him at dinner and he’s just learned to be highly attuned to you. He notices a lot of little things you do, and is normally the first to realize when you’re choking or something.

That’s why, when you start coughing this time, he is the first one to panic. He knows that that isn’t a normal cough, he just doesn’t know what to do about it.

He looks down at his plate and realizes what’s on it, something he cries out right when you fall to the ground, clutching your stomach. You’re on the other side of the table and his brothers are already crowding around you, so Levi doesn’t get to see the blood and can only hear your coughing.

When your coughing gets weaker as you faint, he freaks. the. fuck. out. Did you die?? Even as he tries to look over his brother’s shoulders, he can’t get a good grasp of what happened until somebody tells him.

(It doesn’t matter much though. He’s still stuck in a loop of wondering what he could’ve done if he had gotten to dinner sooner, if he had managed to score a coveted seat next to you, if he had just looked at his plate or offered to take over for Mammon...)

Taking care of you afterwards:

You wake up in your bed and Lucifer is the one who comes in, asking you how you feel and if you’re up to classes to die. 

Being poisoned sure does take a lot out of you, so you ask to stay. Lucifer gives a quick nod and warns you not to shirk your duties, wishing you a fast recovery and letting you know that (human safe) food has been set aside specifically for you.

You doze off soon after (hey, a sick day may as well be spent sleeping in, right?) and when you wake up, somebody else is there, looking at you with inquisitive orange eyes and nearly scaring you half to death.

When you scream, he screams, backing up into your dresser and knocking some of the things off of it. 

“I-I’m sorry-! I was just- told to check up on you- just in c-case....I’ll leave now!”

Boy’s gonna make you chase after him when you’re basically sick smh

If you go to his room and demand to be let in, he will - and he’ll let you stay under the guise of “well if you have to check on me every hour it’ll be less of a hassle if I just stay here...”

You won’t be able to get him to say he feels guilty for letting this happen, but when you pick up on the signs ensure him that he’s doing fine taking care of you. HIs cool room helps soothe your mouth (which is still a little irritated), and you’re honored he has an alarm set to check up on you

You know he’s feeling better about it all when an alarm goes off and he just asks “Hey you good?” and he chuckles a little bit when you respond “Hold on I gotta check my own pulse....... yeah i think i’m good”

Overall he is worried but he doesn’t know how to communicate it? So it’s a lot of quick, worried glances and double checking nutrition facts on packages before he hands them to you.

He kind of leaves you to your own devices, but he does send you worried glances every now and then until you’re recovered. He also makes it a point, when Mammon’s on dinner duty, to tell him exactly how he prepared the meal, though you don’t know if it’s for your sake or just to bother him. Probably both.

When you start coughing:

Satan has taken to leaving his books in his room for most dinner and talks to you in their place, so he notices what’s in the dish pretty quickly.

However, the second step of realizing what it could do to a human doesn’t quite hit him until you’re already on your second bite.

He reaches out to grab your wrist anyway, watching you cough while also staring at him in confusion. As he watches your face redden and your mouth swell, you take your wrist from his grasp and cover your mouth with your hand.

He’s the one who knows what to do, so he appoints someone to keep and eye on you while he runs (yes, runs, but he’ll act all cool about it if his brothers bring it up later) to his room to get some potion that’ll (hopefully) negate the effects

(Don’t let him hear me say this but) he’s similar to Lucifer in that he’s very level-headed when it happens - somebody needs to be focused on the cure when some of his more dramatic brothers are screaming (looking at you, Mammon and Asmo)

Taking care of you afterwards:

Satan might be the best at taking care of you, but he’s probably also the least fun.

Once he realized a while ago how fragile a human could be (and that he was interested in actually keeping you alive rather than just watching how long it takes for something to hurt you), he put in an effort to read up on how to help a poisoned human in the Devildom.

He knows how you must be feeling, and he offers you soothing teas or even a (human safe!) numbing lip balm to help you out.

(He finds great pleasure in how ridiculous you look, now that the danger’s passed - though he won’t tell you outright, you can tell it by the amused grin he isn’t even trying to hide)

Don’t be surprised if you catch him eyeing your plates of food for a while after the incident, and any time you catch him in the act he’ll look at you, take a drink out of the nearest cup and lift his eyebrows in a weird little acknowledgment that he’s been caught before saying “It looks tasty.”

Overall, he’s the standard amount of worried? Even though he will take every opportunity to tease you about how you looked afterwards or how feeble you are to be taken down by something so small (jokingly), he won’t ever get out of the habit of double checking your food to make sure it doesn’t happen again.

When you start coughing:

Asmodeus eyes you warily when you start coughing, but continues with his entertaining until you hit the ground.

He’s by your side in an instant, hands hovering over you as if he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself (he doesn’t).

He doesn’t remember calling for Satan, but Satan is the one who kneels by you, so maybe he does? His focus is on you and deciding on something he can do to help.

This ends up shielding your face, puffy and a mess from your tears and retching, from the others who are all peering over at you in concern. He knows it’s not the most pressing detail, but he figures that maybe he can preserve your dignity a little bit, no?

He follows the action with his hands covering his mouth nervously, watching as they have to force a potion down your throat now that you’re unconscious. He’s allowed to stay by you once they determine that you’re safe since he normally doesn’t cause too much of a fuss - not when he looks as pale and miserable as he does now, anyway.

Taking care of you afterwards:

He’s not too experienced in the healthcare field, but boy does he know self care! He knows how to get your skin feeling less gross after the rather...irritable reaction it had and the best way to rest is if you feel totally physically relaxed, right?

For a while, if your stomach still feels like it’s churning or you’re otherwise unfocused, he’s the first to defend you from anybody who thinks you’re overreacting. 

Also makes sure nobody outside of the house knows how...unsightly of an ordeal it was. He isn’t shaming you internally or anything, but he’d loathe to have such an unpretty picture in people’s heads when you’ve been nothing but showstopping the whole time beforehand!

Will make sure to grab a seat across from you juuust before you take a bite for a while. It doesn’t matter if he’s across the room in the middle of a story or if you’re at a cafe with someone else and he’s still home. You’ll find him sliding in wordlessly to the seat across from you and watching you intently, making sure you’re eating something that isn’t going to burn you from the inside out.

Has multiple websites bookmarked on his D.D.D. that tell him what is poisonous to you and makes sure YOU are aware of what you’re putting inside your body before you eat it. He seems to genuinely think you’ll forget to save yourself from such a life-threatening situation, but the pout he gives you when you try to get him to stop is enough to convince you to live with it.

When you start coughing:

When you start coughing, he reaches over and starts patting your back absently in the way that usually helps.

He notices the way you grasp onto the table in an attempt to keep yourself up, coughing into your other hand as it gets worse by the second. When you almost slip off, he reaches out to catch you before you hit to floor

Is ready to do the Heimlich when one of his brothers stops him because 1) he’d probably snap you in half, and 2) that’s not what’s happening

He watches blankly as Satan approaches him, laying you down gently as instructed. That’s probably worse, watching you writhe on the floor like that.

He’s the one instructed to help hold you down so they can feed you the potion cure. He wants to hold your hand but it’s covered in blood, and he doesn’t want to risk loosening his grip on you and you somehow spilling it.

Taking care of you afterwards:

He’s the one most shaken up about the whole ordeal, I’d think? While the others are definitely worried he’s the one that has the BIGGEST problem with the feeling of helplessness so I think it would bring back some memories

He definitely keeps a watchful eye over you until you can tell him coherently that you’re okay, and even then he’s still treating you like porcelain for a short while

He can’t help it! Any time he’s reminded of just how frail you can be (and how unexpectedly something horrible can happen) he just...needs a few gentle moments to collect his thoughts.

Does NOT want you even looking at anything that has that plant in it (or anything else poisonous for that matter). Will straight up eat an entire dish from the pan if you give it a glance that he thinks means you’re thinking about eating it. He can usually get away with it since that’s similar to what he already does, but every now and then you see the look in his eyes and wonder if there’s something more to it

He’ll warn you in the future if he knows something is poisonous, but if you’re trying something new he’ll automatically ask you “Can you eat that?” If he doesn’t know, he can at least remind you to check for yourself.

When you start coughing:

Very few things can snap Belphegor out of a drowsy dinner stupor. You suddenly falling on the floor and coughing your insides out is one of the things that can.

If his brothers weren’t so concerned with you, they’d have a few quips about how quickly he startled awake

The first thing he does is dart his eyes back to the table, where he quickly realizes that they just inadvertently poisoned you. When he turns back, it seems the others have already come to that conclusion and someone is running off to help you

He knows that he doesn’t have much to offer in terms of help, but he will tear somebody (Mammon) away from you and kneel next to Beel.

He keeps himself under control by comforting Beel as he holds you down. 

There’s definitely a sick feeling in his stomach, something familiar about you lying on the floor and bleeding that he doesn’t like. He pretends to be averting his eyes at the sight of them forcing a potion down your throat and not some regrettable memory.

Taking care of you afterwards:

You wake up and Belphie is curled up next to you in your bed. Nobody else is in the house and it’s 3 PM. You feel gross and you can’t reach your phone to actually confirm what time it is and you have no idea what the fuck is going on until he wakes up

Which he does, after you poke and prod him enough and he’s very grumpy about it

“yeesh, you get poisoned and suddenly you think you’re the princess of the devildom”

“I get WHAT”

Definitely is planning to get Mammon back tenfold

He tries to act nonchalant about it but he does keep waking up ever few hours and lifts his head to like. check that you’re good for the first day or so. 

Sometimes he gets this sad look in his eyes and you have to smooth his hair back and reassure him that everything’s okay. It works a little but if he thinks he can trick you by pretending to sleep and then steal a few moments where he can Brood on his own while STILL cuddled up next to you, he will.

Suddenly takes an interest in what you’re eating. Every day. Every meal. 

He doesn’t go to check on you but he does text you a few minutes before lunch or if you’re getting dinner somewhere other than the house “What are you planning on eating?”

Gets real huffy if you don’t give him a straight answer. Usually will respond with a “Whatever don’t get yourself almost killed again”

If you decide to get cheeky and answer “Probably straight poison, like right out of the mysterious bottle with a skull on it” he will just say “ugh, sounds like you. have fun.”

“...”

“...”

“...seriously, don’t do that mc.”

he sets alarms to wake up so he can make sure you don’t ingest literal poison be a little nice to him please

[hugespace]

Therapy helps rhett realize that all of those "I'm dead" UFC moves were actually just a way to fulfill his need for physical intimacy at a time in his life where he didn't feel it was acceptable to ask for it, especially from another man. Now that they're both adults and completely different people than they were in college, rhett decides it's time to explain it all to link and let him know that he actually misses that physical contact with him.

It took me a really long while, but I finally finished this one! I really loved that prompt, so thank you so much for giving it to me, lovely Anon. I was initially going to write it as a platonic/romantic friendship kinda story, but it seems I'm determined to write a hundred different first kiss + feelings realisation scenarios, I simply enjoy those way too much.

*** 2,5K ***

Let me hold you

He’s done it again.

Not so long ago, Rhett promised himself not to bring it up in front of cameras or a microphone unless he talks it out with Link, privately.

Especially not as a joke.

And he’s failed already, he scolds himself short after the Ear Biscuits episode is recorded and they’re both out of the room, heading back towards their office.

He thinks he could have just omitted it, shouldn’t have mentioned anything. It simply wasn’t necessary to mull over it again, even with the topic of the episode revolving around their college experience. It wasn’t a big deal, he said it himself, countless times. Every time they talked about it on the show.

So, every time.

There’s never been a conversation in private about that incident or anything that preluded it, never in the absence of people to entertain, never not around at least one recording device. Because why would there be? It wasn’t a big deal. A funny story, s’all.

He’s also never been able to just let things go, though, and thanks to that inability, the lore of wrestling and the “I’m dead” move had to live on. It was an innocent story, a funny albeit embarrassing one – their unofficial brand after all, an easy misunderstanding and a fun little anecdote, not his carefully curated version of what happened, nor a watered-down one, not just a part of the entire story devoid of any feelings associated with it, not a big deal-! And most of all, not… true. Not true.

Rhett isn’t sure if Link has been consciously going along with that wordlessly agreed upon version of what their UFC phase looked like, repressing the truth behind it, or… simply never realised what it meant for Rhett and genuinely thought of it as a humorous yet insignificant part of their friendship in the past.

Most likely the third option, he has to assume. After all, why would Link attach any meaning to it? It’s not like anything actually ever happened, not outside of Rhett’s mind at least. Frankly, he himself went decades without understanding his own motivations, more than once confused by why the memories of wrestling with his friend and laying on top of him felt both shameful and deeply comforting. Why even long after they grew up, stopped being kids, and as a result retired all their UFC moves, the only way he could describe what he felt thinking about that time was longing.

Until therapy happened.

Just like with many different things in his life:

There was something in the darkness, and then therapy shone a light on it.

It was like there were countless situations he navigated solely on instinct, without paying much thought to the reasons behind why he acted a certain way, and once therapy equipped him with the ability to do so, he unearthed an entire deep layer of feelings and emotions that were always there. Just hidden, even from himself.

The wrestling being one of those things.

So, he thinks Link doesn’t know.

And he’s finally determined to change that.

Why now, when he’s had so many chances to talk to Link over the years ever since he started being more in touch with himself? He doesn’t really have an answer; it’s just that after talking about it with such levity again, after repeatedly making a joke out of it, it feels like he might explode if he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t confess to Link what it was really like. And most of all, it feels like the yearning has become stronger lately, and the conversation yet again playing it all off as them being young and silly only ignited it, made the flame inside of Rhett burn brighter, threatening to make his heart combust.

“I need to talk to you about something that’s been on my mind.” Rhett says easily once they’re in the office. It’s not an unsure statement or a nervous plea with words tumbling out of his mouth before he can lose his cool and change his mind. It would have been all that and more a couple of years ago, sure.

But he’s a different man now. He’s not afraid to tell the person who’s been with him for almost the entirety of his life what he feels.

Link, however. He does look unsure, a bit alarmed even, when he looks at Rhett and responds.

“Sure-? What is it? Do you wanna talk now?”

It’s just like him to worry. Run a hundred different scenarios in his head, most of them negative, trying to prepare himself for every possible outcome of a serious conversation before it even began. It’s an anxious survival instinct that makes Link resilient to even the worst that life has to offer and able to face it all head on. But right now, it’s nothing scary. Rhett doesn’t want his friend to be worried, so he quickly says as much.

“Don’t worry, s’not bad. Just something we talked about on the podcast today.” The blonde sits down on the couch and pats the cushion next to him, hoping he appears to be as calm as he truly feels inside and that it might dissolve some of Link’s concern, still written all over his face.

The other man takes his place on the sofa and looks at him expectingly.

“Right. So-“ Rhett’s calmness doesn’t completely evaporate once Link gives him his full attention, but it’s suddenly laced with some nerves. “About the wrestling. You know, in college. And before that. And- Especially about my ‘I’m dead’ move. I’ve been thinking about it, and-“

“Rhett, I swear, if you made me sit down for a talk only to tell me you’d like to make it a part of our conflict resolution again, then ha-ha. Very funny. I’d like to go get myself some coffee now.” Link cuts him off with an unamused look in his eyes and almost makes a move to stand up.

Rhett is quicker though and grabs the brunette’s arm before he can really move, effectively making him stay in place.

“What? No. That’s not what I’m saying. Like, at all. I-“ He realises he’s still holding onto Link’s arm and instinctively wants to retract his hand, but that same feeling that led him to initiating this conversation in the first place makes him reconsider. “I’ve been thinking about what it all meant and why I did that, especially when we fought or you were angry with me, and-“

“Because we were young.” Link quickly answers what wasn’t even a question. “We had too much energy and neither of us really wanted to hurt the other by punching him or- or fighting in earnest. What else would it mean.”

“Link can you let me talk? I’m trying to say something important.” Rhett squeezes Link’s forearm. “So, as I was saying. I mostly did it when you were angry or I was feeling unsure, and I didn’t realise it back then, but- But I know now, that I just… needed reassurance. You know, physical contact.” He explains, looking straight into Link’s eyes and trying to interpret his reaction before it comes.

When nothing happens, and the brunette just stares back at him with a furrowed brow, he feels compelled to continue and elaborate.

“Like when people… hug after an argument-?” His brain almost challenges him to make a different comparison, presenting a parallel between laying half-naked on top of your best friend and another activity people often partake in to make up after a fight. But that’s not- It’s not what he’s trying to say. It’s not like that.

The face in front of him frowns in confusion, blue eyes squinting and mouth opening and closing again, only letting out a puff of air and no sound at first.

When Link finally responds, his voice is unsure, like he suspects that he’s not understanding something right. “Are you trying to tell me you wanted to hug me when we bickered, so you pushed me to the floor and laid on me till I was even angrier, instead…?”

That’s not fully what Rhett meant, but it’s close enough, so he nods.

“What the crap, Rhett-? You're not making any sense.”

“Okay, listen…” He decides to go for a different approach. “We still don’t hug after arguments. We never hug hello. I think I could count on my fingers how many times we’ve actually hugged each other as adults, outside of the show!”

“Yeah! That’s just not what we do! We’ve never done those things, it’s just not a part of our relationship- I still don’t know what you wanna tell me here Rhett.” Link throws his hands in the air in a gesture of resignation.

“I want it to be a thing we do, okay?! I always did, but I was afraid to ask for it so I just took what you could give me without talking about it. Can’t have actual intimacy? Make up a UFC thing so I can be close to you! Can’t hold you when I’ve made you mad? Better lay on top of you till you give up and have no choice but stop!” Rhett pauses to finally take a breath.

“That time that guy saw us- I’m sure you remember I stormed off right after-? I panicked, it was like him seeing us and thinking there was something else happening almost made feel like it was something else, and since I started it, it also felt like I wanted it to be something else. I got so angry at myself for even trying and I never did it again. I’m sure you remember that, too!” Words flow out of Rhett in a hurried and increasingly loud cascade, while Link’s eyes grow bigger and comprehension dawns on his face.

“I know how stupid it sounds. But you know how I was. We were well into our thirties when I still refused to get close to you. And it’s not that I didn’t want to, it was the opposite – I wanted it a lot, man.”

„But I thought...?” Link seems to be turning a thought over in his head. “I thought you just never liked it. That the wrestling thing was about you… asserting dominance. That’s what it felt like at least. Like you trying to act like an older brother or somethin’.”

“No- It was me wanting to be close to you and not knowing how to ask for it. My very convoluted way of expressing love, you could call it. And I’m sorry it took me-“

“What changed-? I mean, what made you wanna talk about it?” There’s urgency in Link’s voice when he cuts Rhett off.

“I… I realised I miss it. I told you, we still don’t really hug or get intimate, however that sounds, and I’m not gonna just topple you and pin you to the ground again. We’re too old for that. For once, I don’t think either my back or your shoulders would survive if we started wrestling every time I wanted to be affectionate. But also- We’re over forty, Link. What does it say about me if I can’t just ask a person I love and have loved for almost four decades to hold me when I need it and would resort to, well, aggression-? That’s not how it should work.”

Link ponders Rhett’s words for a few beats before opening his mouth again, only to let three breathy words escape. “You love me-?”

It seems like the wrong thing to focus on, Rhett just opened up to say he not only craves physical intimacy now, but also struggled with that same need when they were younger so badly, he had to invent an entire intricate system allowing him to be closer, and Link questions the one thing he knows already. Because of course he knows, Rhett’s said as much dozens of times, of course he loves him. But it appears he has to say it anyway, judging from the weird look in Link’s eyes.

“I do, of course I lo-“ The blonde begins, yet he doesn’t get a chance to finish and ask whether Link heard the other part of his confession at all, because at once, his mouth isn’t free to keep talking and there’s no air left in his lungs as the man who was just sitting right next to him plunges forward and collides with him, lips first.

Oh. Rhett manages to form one more coherent thought despite being startled and entirely taken aback. Link misunderstood. That’s why he got hung up on the love confession. That’s not what Rhett meant, that’s not what he was trying to say, it’s not like that-

He feels like he should clear things up as quickly as possible. Logically, he should be panicking, racking his brain for a way to straighten things up, to explain to Link that it wasn’t what he was trying to say without making things worse, without ruining everything and making his best friend feel miserable and embarrassed, until…

Until Rhett realises his body went rogue and started responding without his conscious decision, his lips are moving against the other man’s, one of his hands is cupping Link’s face, while the other strayed away and is caressing his back. And it feels like his heart is trying to break out of the ribcage with how hard it’s pounding in his chest, along with his stomach doing wild summersaults. And he’s not panicking, not at all. And it’s not a misunderstanding, how could it, when he loves Link with his entire soul, with his whole being- And exactly like that, it hits him. Starting this conversation, he thought he already understood everything, but he didn’t– there was still that last puzzle piece missing.

They come up for air, panting from the intensity of that first kiss, foreheads flush with each other. Rhett finishes the sentence he began before Link’s move changed everything. “Of course I love you.” He means it now, he means it exactly like Link took it and can’t comprehend how he didn’t think of it before, but it’s perfectly obvious now.

So he hugs Link. He encircles the man’s body with his long arms, squeezes, and holds him, feels his friend snuggle into him, nuzzle his face into the crook of his neck and breathe deeply, holding Rhett's larger body in return.

All he needed was ask for the closeness.

He asked, and he got it.

He got all he wanted and so much more.

So, so much.

[sin-of-jess]

Kirishima-Sero-Kaminari foursome

Type:  Smut

All characters are aged up to at least 21!

~

The microwave dings and I pull the scorching hot bag of popcorn out, carefully opening the bag and adding its contents to the big bowl. It took three bags to fill the large plastic bowl, but it would be plenty for the four heroes as they settled down in the living room.

Kaminari was dumping the last of the chocolate candy into a smaller version of the popcorn bowl, Sero coming from the back of his apartment with arms full of throw blankets and pillows while Kirishima fumbled with the remote.

Since I was on popcorn patrol I sat in the very middle of the single couch, legs crossed and a blanket placed in my lap before the warm bowl. Sero sat to my left and Kirishima to my right, Kaminari plopping down in the nest of pillows in front of the three. Along with a single couch was a chair in the living room, but the chair sat a ways away from the couch, so Kaminari made due.

Low rated movies were a guilty pleasure of Sero and Kaminari, who had watched them as young teenagers. As I grew closer with the pair I had been invited to join, and this will be a dozen times since I've joined in. This was the first time for Kirishima, so they had let the red-headed man pick the cheesy flick of the night.

The movie chosen was a monster film, and after turning out all the lights and locking the doors, the group settled down. The movie was at least 40 years old and had your standard family at the center of the film. As the foundation of the film plays out, everyone begins joking at the bad acting as they munched on the snacks.

The popcorn was already a third gone, and my back began to ache at the straight angle I had kept it thus far. Shifting my legs so they were sitting on Sero, I adjust my upper body until my shoulder brushes with Kirishima's. He doesn't say anything, only glances down before his eyes go back to the darkening scene on tv.

Sero shifted his body, moving my legs so they sat comfortably on him, something we've done many times before. The monster favored the darkness, and it was nearly pitch black in the room as the fictional family on tv suffered from a blown breaker.

The scene was intended to be intense, but the group snickered as the crudely made black mass of a 'monster' moved across the window in the back of the shot. "It looks like someone with black bedsheets over their head," Jokes Kaminari as he turns and attempts to toss a piece of chocolate candy into Kirishima's opened mouth.

The candy misses and lands on my arm, and as I pop it into my mouth the lights flash on, and the mother on tv shrieks. "My heart is pounding," Sero comment's with absolutely no emotion.

As the movie goes on my body eases its way down until I'm perched up against Kirishima, who glances down at me every so often. "You okay?" I ask him.

He tenses for a moment, "Y-yeah." He whispers back, shifting his arm so it was draped over the couch behind us. The family in the movie settles down for the night, and that's when the scene turns steamy. The older couple went from discussing the weird happenings of the neighborhood to the woman topless and the man licking all over her chest.

"Errr..." Kirishima mumbles awkwardly as the scene unfolds.

The pair on tv waste no time in the act of sex. loud breathy moans filling the room along with the chuckle of Kaminari, "These movies are always rated this high up cause of sex."

As the man finishes and the scene changes, Kirishima grumbles out an "I thought it was because of the scary stuff."

It took a while for Kirishima's blush to lessen, but by the time the man had finally relaxed, another woman was topless. There was a young and gorgeous woman who was going skinny dipping in the river behind the wooded neighborhood. It was twilight as the woman slowly crept into the water, her nipples grew hard and so did something else.

Sero had chosen to wear sweatpants, just like the other guys. I was wearing comfy shorts, and my bare skin could feel the bump as his cock jumped to life at the sight. The scene was changing between the naked woman, the older son of the family peeping on her, and the shadowy monster hiding in the treeline.

"Just a group of perv's" Kaminari comments as he reaches back to grab some popcorn.

"Like you wouldn't be out there looking too." I retort as I let my leg slide across the thickening dick beside me. My eyes flicker over to Sero, who's eyes are already on me. I grin at him deviously as I rub a bit firmer, shifting around as if I was getting comfy as I glide my foot down his length.

The others don't notice the teasing, and Kirishima and Kaminari both cringe at the death of the naked woman. As the son rushes home to tell his family, Kaminari snorts, "How do you explain why you were looking."

"Why was she even getting naked there in the first place?" I comment back, to which they all agree. There's a blanket over Sero's lap, but the slow rubbing of my foot on his cock was barely noticeable in the dark room.

The parents dismiss the upset son, sending him to bed as the four of us laugh, "A murder you say?" Kaminari says in a mocking voice.

"Nah you're eyes are playing tricks go to sleep!" Kirishima continues in a similar mocking voice. Sero hadn't joined in on the jokes, his mind elsewhere as I continue to tease him.

I adjust again, my head resting on Kirishima's stomach and the popcorn bowl on the floor beside Kaminari. The parents in the movie are in the kitchen now, and as they come together in a heated kiss, the monster moves outside the window.

"Oh god, here we go again." Kaminari jokes as the two once again start fooling around again. I hadn't realized Kirishima had caught on to what I was doing to Sero, who was too focused on pretending to be into the movie to notice Kirishima. I can see the dark grey sweatpants shift a little in front of me, and he awkwardly coughs as he attempts to pull the blanket higher up to cover his growing arousal.

I was already feeling a bit warm with all the teasing I had been doing to Sero, and I wondered just how Kirishima would react if I did the same. I pull my blanket up so it's covering my entire upper body, but I slip my hand from under mine and into Kirishima's.

his throat hitches but I don't stop as my hand reaches the barely hardened dick. At first, I don't move my hand, wondering if he'll do anything to stop me. When he doesn't I give the slightest squeeze, his cock twitching in return. I grow more brazen as I slowly rub my hand along his length, his cock quick to grow at the treatment given.

I've stopped moving my leg against Sero, but his cock stays hard as I work Kirishima up. The first person to speak out loud about it all was Kaminari, who had finally noticed all the rubbing going on behind him.

At first, the two guys are embarrassed as Kaminari's head whips from one to the other. Maybe it was the oversexualized movie, maybe it was because it was three strong and attractive hero's; either way, I let my body take over as I lean forward and kiss Kaminari.

As expected, Kaminari kisses back as he turns his body to face me more. Sero, his shame lessening due to Kaminari's response to my kiss, had begun to rub his hand up and down my leg from over the covers. Kirishima's dick had softened a bit at being caught, but all I had to do was place my hand back on it for him to harden fully again.

I pull my lips away, and at that moment Kirishima speaks, "S-so... are we doing this?"

I sit up and give him a kind but serious look, "Only if you want to Kiri."

The redness of his cheeks quickly travels to the rest of his face as he awkwardly rubs his neck and avoids eye contact, "I mean, yeah."

At that, I move to straddle him, Kaminari wasting no time in groping my ass as I kiss Kirishima. He seems to not know what to do with his hands, so I grab them and place them at my hips. Sero moves over to where I once sat, and I blindly move my hand until I find his cock to rub on.

Sero grabs the hem of my shirt, pulling it off and exposing my lack of bra. As I continue to kiss Kirishima, Sero and Kaminari work together to pull both my shorts and underwear off. With my core now exposed, Kaminari slides his finger up and down my wet slit. I moan into Kirishima's mouth, pushing my hips toward's Kaminari's fingers.

Blindly I tug at Sero's sweatpants, exposing his cock so that I can properly pump it with my hand. The hand on my pussy has me to the point I'm quivering, and I pull away from Kirishima and use my free hand to try and pull his sweats down.

With his help his cock springs free, and I want to drool at the size of it. He's not quite as big as Sero, but Sero was way above average(That man screams big dick energy to me). I adjust my hips and slowly drop-down, a shameless groan escaping my throat at the action.

Kaminari uses one hand to spread my asscheek, his fingers wet from my juices as he circles my tight hole, "What about here, Y/N?"

I pause, only having a few fingers there before. When I look over my shoulder, Kaminari is stroking his average cock and looking at me with near puppy dog eyes. "Do you have anything we can use for lube?"

He grins and nods, rushing off to his room. In the short moment, he's gone, I keep my eye for Kaminari but slowly slide up and down Kiri's thick cock.

He returns, his speed making his cock bounce around as he holds up a big bottle of lube. "Of course you've got something." Sero comments.

Kaminari only grins impishly as he opens the top and squirts some of the product on his fingers. At first, he rubs the cold and slimy gel around my hole, but once he glides the first finger in I begin to move on the patient Kirishima's dick.

Once he's able to slide a third finger in, he holds them there and squirts the lube on his cock, rubbing it to coat him properly. I still so that he can position himself properly, and I let out a loud gasp as the head pops in.

It's not painful thanks to proper lubrication, but I feel grateful when Sero distracts me by rubbing my chest and nipples for stimulation. Kirishima joins in, his hand slipping between us as he fumbles to find my clit, rubbing it the moment he finds it.

I put my head on Kirishima's shoulder closest to Sero, my right breast still exposed and giving just enough room for Sero to move and pluck the hardened bud into his mouth. I moan as his tongue swirls around, Kaminari slowly but steadily filling my ass with his rod. He lets out a groan when he bottoms out, and slowly pulls out until only the tip is still inside.

"Eijiro... please, fuck me." I moan, unable to do it myself with Kaminari anchoring me. His ears turn red at the brazen statement, but his hands move to my thighs as he begins to pump up into me.

I've never felt this full in my life, and the moment the two match their pace an orgasm hits me out of nowhere. My entire body shakes as I wail out, clinging onto Kirishima's shoulders.

When the orgasm passes I look to Sero, "Can you-" Kirishima hit's just the right spot, another moan coming out, "Can you sit up here?" I ask as I touch the top of the couch behind him. He does so and I shift my body awkwardly so that I can place his cock in my mouth as well.

There's no way to describe what it's like to have all three of your holes filled with cock, but the dirty pleasure was enough to rip another orgasm out of me within minutes of the first one. A mantra of "Fuck!" muffles out of my cock filled mouth, and Sero begins to stroke my hair as he watches me take him.

Kaminari becomes vocal behind me, a repeated: "Ah, ah, ah!" Coming from him before he suddenly stills, a warmth filling me as I swear I feel his cock twitch. Kirishima's eyes are focused on where our two bodies meet, his thrusting not slowing when Kaminari's did. about 20 strokes from Kirishima later, Kaminari begins to groan as he lets the movement from my body being thrust pleasure him.

I pull Sero's cock from my mouth and use his thighs to balance myself as I look over my shoulder, "Denk- aaahhh! A-are you still hard?" The blonde man only grins impishly as he jerks his cock, his cum oozing out from around his cock. I go back to sucking on Sero's dick, and the dirtiness of having cum drip out of my stretched asshole and down onto the back of my thighs eggs me on.

I try and take his cock deeper down my throat, my constant moaning vibrating onto his cock. When my body screams for air I pull away, taking a loud gulp of air before my moans of pleasure begin. I use one hand to pump him, spit and tears wetting my red face. Sero uses his hand to wipe the tears from my face before gently gripping my chin and guiding his dick back into my swollen and red lips.

Kirishima's breathe increases as his hips turn erratic, a few thrusts later and he barely pulls out before rope after rope of cum spurt onto his stomach. I could tell he was coming down from his orgasm high, so I coax Sero to sit properly on the couch. I slowly maneuvered myself to where I'm now straddling Sero, Kirishima getting up and making his way to the bathroom.

Sero sheathes himself inside me before the bathroom door closes, and he wastes no time in matching Kaminari's fast pace. Unable to do anything else, I drop my head onto his shoulder and moan like a whore. Kaminari has a firm grip on my hips as he piledrives into my beaten up asshole, Sero having one hand wrapped in my hair as he starts kissing and biting my neck. Another orgasm hits me, this time my moans turning into screams as I see spots.

Kaminari grunts and again stills, pumping a second load into my ass. 10 strokes later and Sero follows suit, filling my cunt up with his thick seed. Kaminari pulls out and slaps me on the ass before walking over to the bathroom, knocking on it to let Kirishima know he needs in.

My body goes limp and Sero takes to stroking my back gently with his fingertips as his cock, which is still deep inside me, slowly softens down.

Once the two come from the bathroom, there's a clear air of awkwardness that can only come from a situation like this. "I uh, I need to shower." I sheepishly admit, and I feel grateful as the kind Sero helps walk me into the bathroom.

[shameonmeeguiltypleasure]

Seducing Mr Bridgerton Author rambles: 04.08.2022

Hi guys 👋

So I'm sick and I have to take a few days off from work. But I feel soooo guilty about taking sick leave I've been typing away at my laptop as if to play pretend like I'm still working 😂😅

What does this mean? Well it means I've been doing aloooooot of thinking for SMB and it's future plot events.

And y'all don't even get how much more is left to be written!!

I think all that's left from book Canon is the Cressida lie, Church scene, carriage ride, engagement party, then Daphne's party (I think).

Chp 9-10 of SMB is defs the kiss and the aftermath that follows.

But I've decided to ignore the 'Colin insecure bout his writing' thing. I think the whole Sir Lee thing is a bigger aspect to my Colin. And a whole lot more interesting to write and explore. I mean he still writes.... He's just not insecure about it. (I have plans. I will explain it eventually 😂)

I very much feel like we are entering the second half of SMB once Chapters 9 & 10 are posted.

And I intend for chapters 11 onwards to focus more on Lady Whistledowns persona, My version of the Featheringtons, and Colin and Penelope fully embracing their true selves without care for the opinion of others.... It's gonna be glorious 🤩 Like take all the tension between Colin and Penelope now, then make it LW & Sir Lee. 💥🤯💥

Secrets will be revealed, confessions will be made and dares will be issued. I can't wait to share it all!!!

In saying that... I am confirming the next fic for this series will be 'To Sir Phillip with Pleasure'. Once SMB is finished I want to leave my Polin characters to marinate in their ending for a bit.

Also, with how many Eloise scenes I've been cutting out of SMB I think she's due some major attention.

My Eloise is nowhere similar to Canon Eloise. And in her prologue you're gonna really get to know how she became so different from canon and really get to see SMB Colin's influence on her growing up.

I will say that I'm using Marina from the show' characteristics. I think I already mentioned it in SMB. But Marina is Penelope's cousin, and Eloise and Phillip met a little differently than canon.

First half of Eloise's book will mostly be letters between her and Phillip and her POV on SMB Polin events. Second Half is her running away and how she and Phillip get on.

Only once Eloise's book is finished will i return to writing SMB's direct sequel "Loving Mrs Bridgerton".

LMB will follow my version of Polin after Eloise's wedding. As I won't be using any canon sources as references this entire plot is going to be completely original. Despite the title, the story is gonna be more adventure, thriller and action then it will be romance. Let's just say....

Colin has some unfinished business to properly wrap up before he can officially retire his alter Sir Lee. With his beloved wife along for the journey, Colin is determined to see it done swiftly & properly. Having successfully retired Lady Whistledown and no longer being a spinster , Penelope is all for the new adventure. But only time will tell if she'll be able to handle the danger Colin has been risking as Sir Lee while traveling all these years. He's terrified the truth of his travels will cause him to lose her. She's not sure what to expect... But from the way her silly husband is acting, Penelope's determined to overcome it all...so long as she gets to keep him.

.... So yeah.... I'm suuuuuuuuuuper excited!!!!

I've got 1000 something words done for Chapter 9 and estimate a final word count of 5-7000. I will be leaving you readers on a cliffhanger BUT I fully intend on posting chapter 10 a week or so after. Chapter 10 is estimated to be about 7-9000 words long because there are lot of things to happen.

But Chapters 11 is currently planned to focus on the Featheringtons.

Honestly!!! I'm super excited so for all of this to get done 😆😆🤩🤩

It's exhausting but I love it!!

Anyway, hope everyone stays healthy,safe and strong ✨💪😘

[bethansfandoms]

hii! i had a prompt but i really wanna see a wolfstar version of it (i already asked the same prompt to a jily writer 😭) but can you do "say the words your wish is my command" but not in a lyrical way? so like theyre not singing it but theyre saying it in a conversation, and btw i looove ure writing 💞

tysm! i have no idea what kinda thing you wanted so i hope you like this :))

“It sucks that I can’t be with you,” Sirius mumbled into the crook of Remus’ neck.

“If you want to try and explain to my parents that you’re an unregistered animagus, be my guest.”

“I just hate the idea of you in that cellar,” he kissed him, “you shouldn’t be alone.”

“I did it like this for over six years, Sirius. It’s just one moon.”

There was a soft knock on Remus’ door and Sirius reluctantly detached himself from Remus, moving onto the mattress on the floor that he’d been pretending to use whilst staying with the Lupins.

“Remus, honey, we should probably get going.”

“Coming mum.” Remus leant down and gave Sirius a quick kiss. “See you tomorrow.”

Sirius tried not to be too disheartened as he watched Remus go. He’d seen the cellar. It was a cold underground room; the door to it was at the far end of the garden.

There was a chain in the corner, which prevented the wolf from being able to reach the door, and scratch marks on the walls from the transformations in the years previous to Hogwarts and the ones that fell over the holidays. Sirius hated the idea of Remus being there. Most of all, he hated that he couldn’t be.

Hope Lupin came up to Remus’ room hours later and knocked on the door again.“Yeah?”

The door slowly pushed open. “Hello Sirius, I wasn’t sure if you were asleep. Lyall and I were going to have some herbal tea before bed, would you like one?”

“No thank you. Is Remus okay?” He couldn’t help but ask.

Hope smiled and nodded. “Lyall put all of the protection spells on the door. He has to be at work early tomorrow though so it’ll just be the two of us, I don’t know if—”

“I know healing spells and stuff. I, uh, I’m with him after the moons at school so I’ll help tomorrow morning.”

“I’m glad Remus has you,” she said, simply. “Sleep well, Sirius.”

Sirius didn’t sleep at all.

He was up before Hope the next morning. As soon as the sun had risen, he was outside of the cellar door, wand in his hand, and taking down the protection spells; he descended the stairs into the room quickly.

Upon seeing Remus with a shackle on his ankle and a few deep gashes on his torso, he crossed the cellar in a half run and immediately let Remus’ ankle free before letting him collapse into his arms.

“Moony, are you okay?”

“Fine,” Remus rasped. His voice was incredibly strained. “I feel...” he let out a slow breath and went limp for a moment, Sirius kept holding him. Hope arrived moments later and helped carry a half conscious Remus out of the cellar and into the house, laying him on the sofa as Sirius mentally recited every spell he knew.

He quickly took his wand out of his pocket and got to work healing Remus’ wounds. They were far worse than they usually were after a moon with the marauders.

Hope stood there the whole time, watching, and Sirius couldn’t help but feel it must be awful as a muggle to not be able to use magic in times like this.

He’d managed to get madam Pomfrey to give him healing salves and draughts and after he’d exhausted every spell he knew, he carefully applied the salves to Remus’ wounds to help the scarring.

Remus slipped back into consciousness for a moment and Sirius gently explained he’d be giving him a draught that’d make him sleepy. Remus had murmured a dreary “love you” and if Hope had heard it, she hadn’t addressed it.

They decided to move Remus off of the sofa as he was too tall to be lying across it comfortably and a combined effort got him tucked into bed.

“There’s food and tea and coffee if you want anything, Sirius. I’ll leave him be for now but when he wakes up give me a shout. You were really good with him today, are you planning on being a healer?”

Sirius raised his eyebrows, “I can’t say I’ve really considered it.”

“You should. Between you and me, I think whatever spells you used today have done a better job than when Lyall usually does it.” She sent him another smile before walking out of the door, “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Sirius slipped into bed next to Remus and wrapped an arm around him, careful to avoid the new injuries. He stayed like that until Remus woke up at around noon.

Sirius ate lunch with Hope in the kitchen and prepared some soup and tea to bring upstairs to Remus. Hope had asked if he wanted her to do it but Sirius had politely declined and she let him go.

Remus was fully back to his senses now and cautiously sat up as Sirius entered the room with a tray. “Tomato soup, tea with milk no sugar,” he greeted. “Done the muggle way too which was mildly terrifying. Have you ever used a hob before? It’s scary.”

Remus laughed and put the tray onto his lap. “How bad was I?”

“Few scratches on your torso, a lot on your ankle, I don’t think the wolf liked being chained up. Broken rib but just the one. I used the spell madam Pomfrey told me to use but if it starts bruising you have to let me know.”

Remus brought the spoon up to his mouth and winced slightly, “My shoulder?”

“Oh, yeah, popped out. It’s back in but it’ll be a bit stiff. I could kiss it better if you like?”

Remus laughed again and rolled his eyes, “There wasn’t a scar on my lip that needs kissing better, was there?”

There wasn’t but Sirius leant down and kissed him anyway. “Just incase. What do you need? Jumper? More soup? A cuddle?”

“Sirius,” Remus smiled, “I’m fine, really. Although I might take you up on that last one.”

Sirius grinned and crawled into bed, nuzzling into Remus’ neck and hooking a leg over him. “Anything, Moony. Say the word, your wish is my command.”

“Is that Queen?”

“Less talking more eating.”

Remus chuckled and kissed Sirius’ head before returning the attention to his lunch. Once both the soup and the tea were finished, he lay back down properly, wrapping an arm around Sirius and playing lazily with his hair.

“I know I just woke up, but would it be okay if I went to sleep again?”

“Of course, Moony. Do you want me to leave?”

“No, stay. If that’s alright.”

“Your wish,” Sirius repeated, “my command. Love you.”

“Love you too. Thanks for coming here. I know you love being with James it’s just with dad working we weren’t sure if—”

“Moony, I love being with James but I especially love being with you.”

“I love being with you too.”

Hope came up to check on them an hour later and found them in Remus’ bed, limbs tightly wrapped around each other. She smiled as she gently shut the door. She’d heard Remus laughing earlier. She hadn’t heard him laugh after a moon before.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Long Con Part One

Prologue | Masterlist | Next Part Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader Rating: T Notes: Oh hey there! Welcome to Dany Has Been Googling Art Stuff For Like Two Months The Series. Warnings: Cursing (meant to mention that before WHOOPSADOODLE sorry) Summary: You’d never seen Agent Pike look anything less than collected, even in the thick of a case. 

“The Raft of the Medusa, huh?”

You didn‘t bother to look away from your laptop where you were stationed at your lectern.

“Géricault did good work,” You answered as you finished answering the email that you were working on. You knew that this couldn’t be a terribly timely or pressing matter, because the FBI agent that had shown up had bothered to sit through the second half of your lecture that morning. 

“How long have you guys been up to romanticism?” He asked.

“Oh, just this week. Géricault’s got a good range...Landscapes, horses, portraits… horses... current events… horses…”

“Lots of horses.”

“Yeah, he was kind of a horse girl.” 

You finally sent the email off and turned to look at Agent Marcus Pike. The man was, mercifully, still looking at the recreation of the Géricault painting. 

“This one of your old ones?” He asked. You laughed a little, leaning against the lectern. 

“No. I’ve got a friend in Atlanta that specializes in recreations of Delacroix and Géricault.” 

“He’s talented. I’ve seen the original, this is… Incredible.” 

“Mm, I know. The corpses almost look happy in this version.”

Pike’s brow rose and he gave you a look out of the corner of his eye.

“So?” You asked, “How can I aid the bureau today, Agent Pike?” 

He gave a small smile, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck as he turned to face you more fully.

“I’m actually not here on bureau business,” he told you, peering at you nervously. Your brows rose. You’d never seen Agent Pike look anything less than collected, even in the thick of a case. 

“You’ve got my attention,” You reassured him. 

--

You were trying so hard not to laugh, if not for the earnest look on Pike’s face. You watched him as you ran your finger along the handle of your coffee mug. The two of you had taken up residence at your favorite coffee shop and bakery, There Ain’t Muffin To It. It was a little out of the way of the college’s campus, but you preferred that - you hardly ever ran into your students that way.

Pike had insisted on paying for your coffee, and then he’d explained his… Situation. 

His fucking hilarious situation that you were really, really trying not to laugh at. 

“So…Just-- To make sure I’m on the level here,” You said, “Your sister Marnie is getting married in two weeks, and she was probably going to set you up with some cute hometown girl, and instead…” You had to pause, biting your lip to tamp down a laugh before going on, “Instead, you told her that you’re bringing… Me.” 

“That is the long and short of it.”

“And can I ask what possessed you to blurt out the name of an ex-fencer-turned-art-professor?” 

“I panicked and I was looking at the Coleman file.”

“Ah,” You nodded. You’d assisted Pike’s team on that case. A man named Augustus Coleman had recently come forward, claiming to have found Oudry’s White Duck. The work had, in fact, been a fake (though it was a very, very convincing one). You’d spent time with Agent Pike, looking over the painting itself and helping his team track down Coleman’s forger. It had been a lot of long nights, a lot of hard work, but Pike had given you implicit trust, and you’d gotten the job done. 

And now, apparently, he was trusting you with this, too. 

“I don’t… Lie well,” Marcus added, and you couldn’t help but laugh then. 

“I can see that.”

Marcus smiled, “I know this is an inconvenience. I wouldn’t ask you to fly down for the week I’m gonna be there--”

“But you’d want to?” 

Marcus winced, “My sister’s already passed your name on to my mom and I’m getting questions. You could just come in for the weekend. I’d pay for your airfare,” He tacked on. 

“Wow, you are desperate.” 

“What you said, about my sister setting me up with some-- hometown girl? It’s accurate, I’m pretty sure I know exactly who she would’ve tried to set me up with.”

“Bad?”

“No, she’s nice, but we don’t suit and Marnie hasn’t quite gotten that message.” 

Your brow furrowed, considered something. 

“Tell me something,” You leaned forward on your forearms, watching Marcus.

“Sure.”

“You could've found someone else to bring along, asked them to use my name and fake it to your family for two days. You’re actually asking me instead. Why?” 

Marcus’ eyes searched your face.

“Couple of reasons. Remember a minute ago when I said I was bad about lying?” 

You chuckled, “Uh-huh. The other reason?” 

“I need to go down there with someone that I trust. Someone that I know will have my back.”

“And someone that can lie?” 

“Exactly. See what you just said, about asking someone else to use your name? Didn’t even occur to me.”

You were quiet for a moment, considering Pike. The week that he’d named for the wedding was spring break-- you didn’t have any plans set in stone, just papers to grade. 

“...Can I think about it?” You asked. Marcus’ smile brightened at that. 

“Of course,” He nodded, “I appreciate it.” 

You believed that-- the man couldn’t lie for shit. 

-- 

That evening found you in your apartment, grading quizzes for your Intro to Greek and Roman Art course. Most of the students had a good handle on the subject, so the grading and corrections didn’t take you long. Once you’d finished, you poured yourself a glass of wine and settled down on your couch to find something to watch for the evening. 

Once you’d chosen a show, though, you really couldn’t focus on it. You had, after all, told Marcus that you’d consider his proposal. You were...Fond of Agent Pike. The agents that you’d worked with prior to his transfer to the D.C. office had all treated you with varying degrees of contempt when asking for your help on a given case; they’d kept your interactions to the barest of bare minimums, held you at arm’s length in regards to the cases that you were being asked to assist on, and hardly ever updated you on case outcomes - not that they were required to do so, but you had often wondered. Marcus Pike was so different from his predecessors. When he’d come to the D.C. office and had first needed your help on a case, he’d gone out of his way to introduce himself, the particulars of the case, and to say that, “any assistance that you could provide would be greatly appreciated.” And it hadn’t felt glib, either. You’d felt like the man actually wanted your help, wasn’t that he was just reaching out to you to cover his bases. You’d assumed that after that first case, the niceties would fall away, but Marcus had never been anything less than kind to you - even when he was stressed. He treated you with respect, understood that your time was your own, that you’d put your criminal past behind you. You were now using what you’d learned in that world to help the Bureau, and to teach.

The time you’d spent with him on the Coleman case had been the biggest eye-opener. He’d come to understand more about how you used to operate - the way you’d sold forgeries to money-grubbing, self-involved wealthy elites that cared more about owning a one-of-a-kind artwork, uncaring of where it had come from or why you had it; they hadn’t cared about the questionable and fake provenance, had only looked so close when examining the work itself. Your grandmother had been a painter, and a masterful forger - she had been the one to paint most of the forgeries that you’d helped to fence. She had taught you her tricks, connected you with the network that she operated within - she had gotten you arrested, and had been furious when you hadn’t taken the fall for her. You and Marcus had spent a lot of time together during the Coleman case - mostly working, but you’d had some downtime. There were times when he insisted that you sat down and ate, else the food would get cold. Others, when he had a question, he’d come to your office at the college, but he’d bring coffee with him, or some kind of snack - a little way of showing thanks before he even asked his question, even if you didn’t have an answer for him. Marcus was a good man. It was no wonder he needed help lying, especially to his family. Something he’d said to you that afternoon had stuck with you, though, something that was floating above the rest: “I need to go down there with someone that I trust. Someone that I know will have my back.” Marcus Pike trusted you. He was comfortable with you having his back - he was comfortable with you being around his family for a week. 

You picked up your phone, scrolling through your contacts to find Marcus’. You hit the ‘call’ button before raising it to your ear. He picked up on the first ring. “Hello?” He asked, and you smiled at the anticipatory tone. “Think they’ve still got any seats left on your flight?” You asked. Tag list: @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​​ ; @spideysimpossiblegirl​​ ; @blueeyesatnight​​ ; @elen-aranel​​ ; @yespolkadotkitty​​ ; @artsymaddie​​ ; @phoenixhalliwell​​ ; @lunaserenade​​ ; @winniedaboo ; @empress-palpat1ne​​ ; @randomness501​ ; @nutmeg-20 ; @leonieb​

[wheresmynaya]

Hate to Date Ch.7 | Brittana

A/N - And just like that, Lockdown 6.0 is upon us LOL. Good news, more time to write. Bad news, boredom looms. Anyway, thank you to those who have left lovely reviews and/or have gifted me with a coffee through ko-fi. I hope you all know that those emails are some of the first I read when I wake up in the morning - instant happiness! 🥰

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & under the cut!

Being ambushed by parents ends up turning into a trend for Santana when the following weekend Maribel decides to make a spontaneous trip to New York. Apparently there’s some banquet dinner Eddie is attending which Maribel’s accompanying him to.

The invite was extended to Santana as well, but those dinners are always super boring so she blew it off with an excuse about spending time with Brittany instead since their schedules have been so busy.

What she didn’t expect is for Maribel to make an unexpected pit stop at hers and Puck’s place beforehand, hoping to at least say hi to the happy couple.

Problem is – half of said couple isn’t here.

“Mami, we’re just really busy with this assignment,” Santana tries – hoping that it would be enough to deter her mom for awhile considering Brittany isn’t around. “It’s really getting down to the wire, can’t we see you tomorrow?”

“Ay Santana, I’m already on the way,” Maribel replies in a huff. “It’s only a quick visit and we’ll be on our way.”

“Can’t you just like…skip it and continue on your way?”

“I haven’t seen you since New Year’s and I came all this way to see you – “

“You’re not even here for me, you’re here for Eddie.”

Suddenly there’s a pause and Santana wonders if that little comment just got her into some hot water.

“Why don’t you want to see your mother?” Maribel asks instead. “Are you hiding something from me? You and Puck aren’t up to something again, are you? Roping in Brittany?”

Santana’s eyes go big and it feels like she’s just swallowed a handful of sand. Her heart rate’s picking up and she’s struggling to come up with an answer. She feels like she’s got a hot spotlight on her; thank God her mom can’t actually see her right now!

“We’re not,” Santana finally says. “Like I said, Brittany and I are just a little busy with this assignment…but I guess we can take a break for you.”

“That’s my girl,” Maribel praises. “We’ll be around in about twenty minutes.”

Santana gulps, “Great. See you then.”

Once she hangs up, she grabs the nearest pillow and yells into it. The muffled screams have Puck running out of his room so fast that he clips the doorframe with his shoulder. A loud thud echoes throughout Santana’s room as Puck stumbles and looks around frantically.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asks.

“We’ve got a Code Red,” Santana tells him.

His eyes drift down to her lap then back up as he starts to grimace, “Oh. Do you like…need things?”

Santana scrunches her brow but then she realizes what he’s talking about.

“No, not that Code Red,” She explains. “Mom’s on her way. I need to get Brittany over here ASAP!”

“Oh shit!” Puck curses and takes off to the living to start tidying.

The last time Maribel came around for a surprise visit, she basically tore Puck a new one. Long story short, his version of clean isn’t the same as Maribel’s and they spent an entire afternoon together going through the various cleaning products that should be used around the house and what they should be used for.

Meanwhile, Santana rushes to make the call. She just hopes that Brittany won’t give her a hard time for this, hopefully she answers the damn phone!

“Hi?” Brittany answers questioningly.

“Hey,” Santana replies.

“Did you butt dial me or something?”

“What? No.”

“You just – you never call me.”

“Yeah well…I don’t have much time to explain, but I need you to come over like right now.”

“Uhh, I’m kind of in the middle of something.“

“Brittany, please,” Santana begs. “My mom’s on her way over and she’s fully expecting you to be here too.”

“Oh! Okay, yeah. Why didn’t you lead with that?”

“Because I’m freaking out, that’s why!”

“Okay, well don’t freak out. It’ll be fine. How much time do I have?”

“Not much.”

“Great. Thanks for the warning.”

Santana rolls her eyes, “Look, it took me by surprise too.”

“Alright well, find your cool. We can’t have her suspecting anything’s up.”

Santana nods, already feeling a little calmer. “Just hurry, okay?”

“I’m on my way now. Don’t worry.”

\\

When Maribel comes knocking on Santana’s door, the brunette loses all cool once again because Brittany’s still nowhere in sight. Santana’s looking at Puck, but he has no idea what to do either. Maybe they can stall until she gets here, but how? Maribel would totally think something’s up if they refuse to let her inside!

“Just let her in?” Puck whispers, “We can say Britt went to pick up our take-out?”

“And further confirm that I don’t fucking cook here? No way.”

“Well, what else can we do?”

“I don’t kn –“

“Santana?” Maribel calls out from the hall after another knock. “Hello?”

Puck’s eyes go wide, “She can hear us.”

“No shit, she knows I’m home.”

“Okay, okay. I’m thinking, fuck! Why am I so stressed out?”

Santana and Puck go back and forth trying to come up with some way to stall, but it’s impossible under the pressure.

“I think we have to let her in,” Santana tells Puck in a grave tone.

Puck looks at her uneasily, “I think so too.”

After checking her phone once more for an update from Brittany – there isn’t one – Santana goes to let Maribel and Eddie in. They’re both dressed to the nines, must be a fancy banquet dinner.

“Hi!” Santana greets, attempting to mask her uneasiness.

She’s quickly embraced in a motherly hug while Puck compliments his coach on his sick suit.

“How are you, mija?” Maribel asks as she cups Santana’s cheek. “You’re looking a little pale.”

“Am I?” Santana feels the nerves rattling within her. Where the hell is Brittany?!

“Yes,” Maribel looks her over. “You’re not getting sick are you?”

Santana swallows dryly, “Just tired.”

“Because exams are coming up,” Puck clarifies.

“That’s right,” Santana nods. “Lots of studying to do if I want to ace them.”

Maribel nods, seemingly pleased by Santana’s work ethic.

“Yeah, plus her and Britt have also been super busy with this assignment they’re doing together,” Puck adds. “It’s a lot.”

“Ah yes,” Maribel looks around. “Where is Brittany?”

Santana clenches her jaw and looks to Puck. There’s a guilty smile on his face as he secretly mouths out a sorry. Still though, she has to think on her feet.

“She’s in the bathroom,” Santana replies. It’s not her best work, but it was the first thing she thought of. Maybe they can work with it?

“Yeah, I think she had a bad salad for lunch,” Puck tries again.

Santana glares at him and mouths a shut up that goes unnoticed by Maribel and Eddie.

“Oh, that’s unfortunate,” Maribel frowns.

“Those salads are always a hit or miss,” Eddie confirms. “I try to stay away from them.”

“Don’t listen to Puck. It’s nothing like that,” Santana assures them. “Anyway, exam prep; super intense, long nights, tedious studying. I’m so ready for it to be over.”

Maribel looks apologetically at her, “Don’t work too hard.”

“That’s not what you taught me,” Santana quips.

“I know,” Maribel smiles. “I hope you’re at least wearing your glasses when you’re meant to. You know what all that reading can do to your eyes.”

“I am…”

“And rest, you still need it,” Maribel insists. “A tired mind won’t retain a thing.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell her.”

The four swivel around to find Brittany coming out of Santana’s bedroom. Her cheeks are a little pink – probably from the run over – but she’s her usual cool and collected self as she saunters over.

Santana’s never felt so relieved to see the girl! Question is though, how the hell did she pull off such an entrance?

“Brittany! Hi,” Maribel greets happily. “Are you feeling okay?”

There’s a glimpse of confusion as Brittany looks to Santana for an explanation.

“Mami, I told you she’s not sick. She was only in the bedroom to finish up a call with her mom,” Santana lies.

“Yeah. That was my bad, Mama Lopez,” Puck speaks up.

“Right,” Brittany quickly catches on. “Just my daily phone call with mom. Sorry about that, we can get carried away.”

“Oh don’t be,” Maribel smiles then glances to Santana. “Where’s my daily phone call?”

Santana fights the eye roll, “I’m clearly not as great as Brittany.”

“Now that’s a first,” Brittany smirks as she curls her arm around Santana. “I think you’re plenty great though.”

Santana finds herself blushing, “Thanks.”

There’s another pleased smile on Maribel’s face as she admires the couple. It’s a look Santana has rarely seen when it comes to her past partners and it makes her chest fill with pride. Even months later, her and Brittany still got it!

“Well, as promised this is only a quick visit,” Maribel tells them. “We really need to get going now, but while I’ve got you here: when are you coming home for a visit?”

Santana and Brittany exchange a look. They weren’t looking to make a visit for another few weeks, at least until after Spring Break. Free time is hard to come by now that they’re getting closer to the end of the semester.

“You know Abuela would like to see you both again,” Maribel adds.

Santana’s brows rise, “Would she now?”

“I think she’s warming up to things,” Maribel says vaguely but Santana gets it. “Wouldn’t hurt to come see her though. You know seeing pictures of you two together on Facebook has become a highlight for her.”

“Told you we’re cute,” Brittany jokes as she hugs Santana to her side.

“I should’ve known, she likes every single one them,” Santana quips.

“She wants to spend time with you,” Maribel explains and looks to Brittany. “She wants to spend time with the both of you.”

Santana quirks a brow at that, “Really? Has something changed?”

Maribel only shrugs. “You’ll have to ask her for yourself.”

Santana and Brittany glance at each other, both suddenly curious about Abuela’s change of heart.

“How about you come down for Spring Break?” Maribel suggests.

“Uhhh,” Santana stammers as she looks to Brittany, “We’re going to have to talk about it first. Brittany might have to – “

“Spring Break is fine with me,” Brittany shrugs.

“I thought you were planning on going home?” Santana lies – trying to get Brittany to catch on. “Spend time with your family?”

The blonde only shakes her head, “Nope. I’d rather stay here with you.”

Santana feels herself deflate; usually Spring Break is her time to finally let loose but she guesses there’s not much else she could get up to since she’s fake dating Brittany. She might as well just use the time to reinforce that she’s capable of being in a long term relationship.

By then, her and Brittany would be together for four months – that’s the longest relationship yet! Surely, that’ll have to mean something to her family.

“Well sure,” Santana sighs in defeat. “I can’t imagine spending my Spring break any other way than by returning to Lima.”

Maribel gives her a gleaming grin, “Perfect.”

\\

Once Maribel and Eddie head off to their banquet, Santana and Brittany collapse together on the couch. Puck hands them both a beer before cracking one open for himself and taking a seat opposite them.

“Way to sell it,” Puck raises his bottle. “Great work! It was cool to see you two in action like that. I can see why everyone eats this shit up. You’re pretty believable.”

“Glad you enjoyed the show,” Santana quips.

“Looks like I came right on time too,” Brittany says.

“Yeah about that,” Santana looks to Brittany. “How the hell did you get into my room?”

“The window?” Brittany shrugs. “I’m surprised it wasn’t locked.

Santana’s eyes go wide, “You climbed through the window?”

“Well yeah, how else would I have gotten in? Through the vent?” Brittany jokes.

“Good thing we’re on the first floor,” Puck chuckles.

Brittany nods and clinks her bottle with his. Meanwhile Santana just stares at the blonde with her jaw slack. Not only did she run over here, she went through the effort of climbing through the window too!

The girl is crazy.

Santana doubts she would’ve gone to the same extent. No way she’d try getting her ass through a window, that’s just too much. But still, she supposes some thanking is in order.

“Well, I appreciate you going through all that,” Santana says bashfully. “I didn’t expect my mom to just pop up like that so…thanks for coming here so quickly.”

There’s a half-smirk on Brittany’s face and Santana anticipates her poking fun at how Santana’s actually thanking her for something, but it doesn’t come. Brittany just continues smiling as she clinks her bottle with Santana’s.

“That’s what fake girlfriends are for,” She tells her.

\\

Over the following days, Santana and Brittany often run into each other at the library. It’s not Santana’s preferred place to study but it’s hard for her to concentrate sometimes with Puck around.

Although Santana and Brittany are in the same place, they often sit separately.

Brittany keeps to her lone table in the study area while Santana sits somewhere in the upper level because she likes the view of the exit. It’s kind of like seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, that tunnel being the designated hour she makes herself study.

However, on one particular day all of the tables in the upper level are occupied. Santana finds herself scowling at the randoms before making her way down to the level beneath – where the study area is kept.

Like always, Brittany’s sitting alone near the back and Santana finds herself walking over to her without a second thought. She wasn’t planning on sharing the table with her, just maybe say hi and leave her be, but as Santana approaches the table she finds something unexpected there:

Spanish for Dummies

Intrigued, Santana’s eyes roam the table and find all sorts of similar books on the Spanish language mixed in with Brittany’s actual coursework. Then Santana takes a peek at Brittany’s laptop, trying to figure out what has her so consumed that she’s yet to notice her standing there.

There’s a little green owl going over conjugations – Spanish conjugations – and Santana watches as Brittany jots down notes as she mouths whatever words she hears through her headphones. Santana’s completely dumbfounded and pulls up a chair, the motion finally causes Brittany to jolt and turn.

Blue eyes spark with surprise before the headphones quickly come off. The girl looks like she’s just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, but Santana can’t help the fascination.

“Santana!” Brittany gasps. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

“It’s the library,” She answers simply. “I’m here to study.”

“Oh, duh. Of cour – “

“Are you teaching yourself Spanish?” Santana interrupts.

Brittany looks from her screen to the books on the table to Santana. She seems a little timid as she minimizes the program on her laptop. Santana wonders if she’s going to attempt to lie, but there’s too much evidence against her. There’s no way she could convince Santana that she’s doing otherwise.  

“Yeah,” Brittany admits with a nervous laugh. “I am.”

Santana quirks her brow, “What are you doing that for? Surely not for fun?”

Brittany shrugs, “The shows on Univision are great but I’m tired of reading subtitles.”

“Really?” Santana doesn’t seem convinced. “That’s like…a lot of work. Besides, I thought nerds like to read?”

Brittany gives her an unimpressed look, “Well…I also figured that if I knew a little Spanish then it’ll give Abuela and I something to bond over. I remember your aunts mentioning this one show she likes so I’ve kind of been binging it.”

“You’ve been binging telenovelas?” Santana asks in disbelief.

“Well yeah, the drama is addicting.”

“Oh wow,” Santana sits back. “So you’re serious about this?”

“Aren’t you?” Brittany replies.

“Yeah, but this is a new level.”

“Don’t you want to be as convincing as you can be?”

“There’s convincing and then there’s this,” Santana jokes. “Your over-achiever tendencies are showing again.”

“You jealous?” Brittany fires back. “I know how much you love it when your mom compares us.”

“I’m not jealous,” Santana turns up her nose.

Brittany smirks, “Just checking. Afterall, this whole thing was your idea.”

“Technically it was Puck’s.”

“Whatever,” Brittany says. “I’m going to do all that I can to make this work because I’m committed. You continue doing…whatever it is that you do.”

Santana tenses her jaw at the jab. It reminds her of the game they played before– the constant one-upping of each other – and she wonders if they’re still playing it.

She thinks about how she accidentally introduced herself to Brittany’s parents as her girlfriend. She remembers how Brittany now has to keep up this façade with them too thanks to the slip-up. She thinks about who this Artie guy is and why Brittany’s parents were wondering where he went.

But most importantly, she thinks about how underwhelming she is as a girlfriend.

She’s nothing like Brittany; she isn’t kind and sweet and she isn’t someone people take home to meet their parents. Santana’s the girl that helps you get over your ex, she’s the one college girls experiment with, she’s down for one night stands, down for no-strings-attached kind of hook ups – she’s not actual girlfriend material.

And oddly enough, she kind of feels bad that Brittany’s stuck with her for the time being. This fake relationship thing wasn’t meant to go beyond convincing Maribel, but that’s exactly what’s happened now thanks to her big mouth.

“You really don’t have to do this, you know,” Santana says after the guilt starts setting in.

“I want to,” Brittany tells her.

Santana sighs; yet another reason why they’re so different.

“Learning a language just to get Abuela to like you?” Santana explains. “Don’t you think that’s kind of going overboard?”

“Not really. It’s kind of fun.”

“Fun?”

“Well yeah, I’ve always wanted to learn another language,” Brittany replies. “Why not start now? Plus I meant what I said about the subtitles thing. It would be so much easier not having to read.”

Santana chuckles as she shakes her head, “How do you find the time? I’m swamped with studying and assignments and cheer practice. Here you are learning another language for fun.”

“I kind of have a photographic memory.”

Santana rolls her eyes, “Of course you do.”

“I’m joking,” Brittany smirks. “I have a bunch of techniques that help cut down on the amount of time you’re actually studying so you don’t spend all your time doing it. I could…teach you some if you want?”

Santana lifts her chin, “I don’t need a tutor.”

“I didn’t say you did,” Brittany laughs. “Why are you always so quick to be on the defense?”

Santana crosses her arms and looks away, “I’m not.”

“Uh-huh,” Brittany grins. “I’ve got a study session with Puck on Thursday. I think it’s actually going to be at your place. We can not share study tips then if you want?”

Santana lets the offer roll around in her head but she doesn’t want to seem too eager.

“I might be around, depends if practice lets out on time.”

“Okay,” Brittany nods then looks at her laptop screen before glancing back at Santana who has yet to move. “So are you sitting with me now or…?”

“Oh!” Santana jolts to stand up. She gathers her bag from the ground and looks around for an empty table, but they’re all occupied.

“I’m not kicking you out, you know,” Brittany tells her without looking away from the screen. “You can stay if you’d like.”

Santana looks around indecisively. She’d rather study alone, but that doesn’t seem to be an option at the moment. She can’t go home either with Puck around, so she guesses staying with Brittany is the next best thing.

“Okay,” Santana replies. “I’ll stay.”

“I’ll clear some space for you,” Brittany says.

Santana moves to the opposite end of the table while Brittany gathers her things in order for Santana to have more room on the table for hers. They sit silently like that working on their respective things for awhile, getting lost in their work.

Brittany ends up leaving the table for a moment and Santana barely notices until she’s placing a coffee in front of her.

“Oh thanks,” Santana smiles at the unexpected gesture.

Brittany doesn’t say anything, just returns the smile as she sits back down.

Another moment later when Santana gets peckish, she pulls out a bag of trail mix. She barely gives it a second thought when she places it between them so that Brittany can have some too if she wants.

\\

When Thursday comes around, Santana ends up leaving cheer practice on time for once. She’s quick to get out of there so that she can wash up and change out of her uniform before Brittany arrives, but she finds that the blonde is already there by the time she gets home.

“What up, Lopez!” Puck calls out to her as he sits with Brittany at their tiny dining table.

Brittany looks up too, her eyes moving from their work to Santana who lingers by the front door. There’s a small smile that begins to curl her lips and Santana finds herself returning it with her own little grin.

“Hi,” She greets as she kicks of her tennis shoes. It was meant for Puck but it seems that it’s directed at Brittany.

“Hey,” Brittany replies.

“How was practice?” Puck asks, just now lifting his head from the work before him.

“Got bumped up to flyer,” Santana says casually although it’s pretty exciting news. She comes around to the kitchen for a drink, “Erica apparently has brittle bones from what Coach says.”

“No way!” Puck cheers, “That’s so awesome!”

“What’s a flyer?” Brittany asks, looking between the two.

“The girls that do stunts in the air,” Santana answers.

“Oh,” Brittany’s brows rise. “That’s…isn’t that kind of dangerous?”

“You worried about me?” Santana teases as she comes around to sit on the stool next to them. She crosses her legs, her cheer skirt hugging her thighs tightly. “Didn’t you say cheer was boring?”

Puck grins as he looks to Brittany for a rebuttal, but the blonde looks stumped.

Actually, the blonde looks distracted.

When Santana realizes that she’s staring at her legs, it’s like a personal victory for her. It was only a matter of time before the skirt wins!

Puck notices the distraction too and glances between his friends, a knowing smirk starting to form.

“Anyway,” Santana says as she finishes off her glass of water.

The sound of her voice breaks Brittany from her trance, but blue eyes are dark with something Santana’s familiar with but has yet to see on her. It makes her smirk; she’s missed having that kind of power over someone. It’s the sexual magnetism, it never fails her.

“Might hit the shower now,” Santana adds before looking to Brittany. “You going to be here much longer?”

Brittany nods, “Yeah. I only got here a little before you did.”

“Okay,” Santana can’t help the flirtatious tone now that she knows she’s got Brittany wrapped around her finger. The teasing is the most fun she’s had in awhile! “Maybe you can show me some things once you’re done with him?”

Brittany gulps, “Yeah sure.”

Puck notices what Santana’s doing and interrupts, “Uh…what’s happening right now?”

“Can it, Puckerman,” Santana waves off although her smile remains devilish. “What’s the point of having a fake girlfriend if I can’t fake flirt with them too?”

Brittany’s face goes a little red as she finally snaps back to reality.

“You call that flirting?” Brittany jokes.

“Fake flirting.”

Brittany shakes her head as she smirks, “I still don’t understand how you pick up any girls.”

“Judging by the look that’s been on your face since I walked in, I think you do.”

Puck looks back and forth between the two again like he’s watching an intense tennis match.

“How about I order a pizza for later?” He suggests in attempt to break up the bickering before it escalates.

“Sounds good,” Santana says without taking her eyes off Brittany.

“Yeah,” Brittany nods. “Sounds awesome.”

“Cool,” Puck replies and looks to Santana. “Go shower now. You’re distracting everyone.”

“She’s not distracting me,” Brittany said pointedly.  

Santana quirks her brow and smirks, “Keep telling yourself that, Britt-Britt.”

She lets her hips sway in that well-practiced way as she leaves the room. She doesn’t have to look to know that Brittany’s yet to stop staring and she struggles to hold back the laughter as she gets ready for a shower.

\\

Despite the teasing game she played earlier, Santana sits in Puck’s place at the tiny dining table across from Brittany with a scowl on her face. This studying thing? She’s had enough of it.

“This is pointless. Education is pointless. I’m gonna become a stripper instead,” Santana huffs.

“You'd probably make so much money!” Puck jokes from his place on the couch.

“Probably? Please,” Santana lifts her chin. “I'd make it rain every night!”

Puck laughs and throws his arm over the back of the couch to look at the pair.

“What do you think, Britt?” Puck presses with a smirk. “Think Santana would make it rain?”

Santana smirks too and looks to Brittany for answer.

“I think…I'm kind of hungry,” Brittany says. “How far away is the pizza?”

Santana’s smirk falls at the way Brittany deflects the question. Since Santana’s return, Brittany’s been a little quieter. Santana figured she’s just stuck in study mode and that she’d loosen up eventually, but she’s still waiting.

“I should probably head over now actually,” Puck realizes after checking his phone.

“Take me with you,” Santana jokes. “I think my brain is turning to mush.”

Brittany sighs, “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“You know that’s a struggle for me.”

“True,” Brittany jokes. “Hey, if we finish this chapter tonight I’ll let you use my pretty pens to take notes?”

"Tempting, but I don't need your pretty pens,” Santana says flatly. She rests back in her chair and stares at the ceiling. “What I need is alcohol and several orgasms. I clearly didn't think this fake dating thing through. I've never been so sexually deprived.”

Puck goes to grab his keys, “And on that note – I’ll be back in a few.”

Meanwhile, Brittany just snickers to herself but she isn’t laughing with Santana and it has the brunette frowning.

“What?” Santana questions as Puck leaves.

Brittany shakes her head, “It must be so hard for you to keep it in your pants for once.”

“You have no idea. Who knew that the last time would be the last time. I sure didn’t!”

Brittany shakes her head again and goes back to her work. It makes Santana feel a little on edge and straightens up in her chair.

“I'm obviously joking,” Santana adds and it makes Brittany look up. “What's it to you if I wasn't though?”

“What are you talking about?” Brittany asks.

“Your interest in my sex life.”

Brittany scoffs and looks back to her work, “I'd hardly call it an interest.”

Santana folds her arms across her chest, “So you're secretly some kind of prude?”

“It's not that.”

“Then what is it?”

Brittany sighs and looks up at her again, “Why are we even talking about this?”

Santana notices the change in her tone and perks up. She abandons her work all together in favor of leaning in.

“Because it's way more interesting?” Santana presses. “I know you're trying to deflect, you might as well just answer. If not, I'll assume the reason it gets your panties all in a twist is because you're secretly jealous.”

“I'm definitely not jealous.”

“So it’s the other option,” Santana says. “You’re a prude.”

“No!” Brittany huffs. She softens when she realizes she raised her voice. There’s a timidness to her when she explains, “I just, I guess I believe in developing the feelings part first before the physical happens.”

Santana softens too but for a different reason. It’s more so confusion than anything else.

"Why?” She asks.

“Because with feelings it's better,” Brittany says simply.

“Are you kidding?” Santana quips. “It’s better when it doesn’t involve feelings. I think it’s better when it doesn’t involve eye contact.”

“Wow. Seriously?” Brittany looks at her sympathetically. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. God, who hurt you?”

Santana didn’t expect her comment to strike a nerve. The memory of short blonde hair and a cunning smile sneaks its way past Santana’s defenses as she mutters, “One guess.”

Brittany looks at her curiously before something clicks, “Oh. The girl.”

Santana doesn’t like where this is going and pushes away the overwhelming feelings that beg to bust through. She walls herself up, holds her chin high and swallows back the lump.

“Yeah well,” Santana brushes off. “I think it's pretty unrealistic to go out there thinking every potential lay has to be relationship material first. Where's the fun in that?”

Brittany continues to eye her like she’s wounded and Santana hates it.

“The fun part is getting to know someone first so when it does happen,” Brittany pauses as she bites her lip. “It's meaningful.”

Santana averts her eyes, because staring into Brittany’s makes her feel far too exposed. Instead she retreats in on herself to place she’s comfortable, she takes the attention off of her.

“Gross. Who knew you were such a hopeless romantic,” Santana jokes.

Brittany sighs through a soft smile, “Call me old fashioned I guess.”

“Super old fashioned,” Santana quips. “Like, are you telling me you've never had a steamy quickie with a random? Everybody's got one.”

Brittany looks away and as she smirks, “Of course I have. I’m not that innocent.”

Santana perks up, “Really? Miss Goodie Two Shoes getting down and dirty without before being properly courted? God, I want details…”

Brittany snickers, “Not happening.”

“What?” Santana shifts in her seat excitedly. “Come on, what's a little girl talk between friends or are you the type that doesn’t kiss and tell because lame.”

Brittany looks up at her and smirks, “You saying we're friends?”

“Will it get you talking?”

Brittany laughs, “We should get back to work now. You've derailed us for long enough.”

“Come on, Britt-Britt,” Santana coos jokingly. “We've been at it for hours. I'm burnt out, sober and in dire need of sex.”

“None of that is my problem.”

“Sure it is,” Santana jokes. “The least you can do is tell me a couple of your kinky stories to get me through the night.”

“No.”

“Please?”

Brittany gives her a look, but Santana just bats her eyelashes. It makes Brittany laugh and she softens once again.

“Actually, I might be able to help you out.”

Santana sits straighter, “It was only a matter of time…”

Brittany rolls her eyes, “Get over yourself. Not every girl on campus wants you, including me.”

Santana laughs, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Britt-Britt.”

“Anyway,” Brittany continues, “I'm talking about a swanky party – a ball even.”

“A ball, you say?” Santana’s interest is piqued.

“Totally.”

“You've got my attention…”

“Well, there’s going to be an open bar, free food, an excuse to dress up and let loose. That ticks off two out of three on your list.”

Santana quirks a brow, “And the catch?”

“No catch.”

“There's gotta be a catch.”

“Okay fine,” Brittany slumps. “It's the Brainiacs’ Ball.”

“The what?” Santana deadpans.

“The Brainiacs’ Ball,” Brittany clarifies. “It's open to all the academic decathlon clubs across the city, this year we’re hosting. The team with the highest winning percentage is named and also the award for Most Brilliant Brainiac is given out. It's the biggest night for the club.”

“Oh, hell no,” Santana chuckles. “There’s not enough free alcohol in the world to get me to go to that. Count me out.”

Brittany starts to frown, “What? Why?”

Santana shakes her head, “One of your matches was enough. I'm not going to a party where I have to be surrounded by all of you at once.”

“It won't be that bad,” Brittany sighs. “It's a night for celebrating. No trivia unless you count the bad puns you might hear.”

“I've seen the guys on your team,” Santana explains. “I can't be liable for the feelings I'd definitely hurt if I were to be around them. I’d be triggered by pocket protector.”

“But you'll mostly be with me,” Brittany tries.

“That doesn’t really help your case.”

Brittany gives her a look, “Well, I kind of need you to go.”

“You need me to go?”

“Well yeah, I don't want to be the only one there without a date,” Brittany reasons. “Plus wouldn't it be suspicious if you didn't go considering we're a thing?”

Santana lets out a laugh, thinking that she’s finally caught on.

“So that it explains it,” She says.

“Explains what?”

“The coffee the other day, sharing study tips, being here,” Santana goes on, “You’ve been setting yourself up to ask me to your dumb ball.”

Brittany tenses, “'First of all, it's not dumb.”

“Sorry. I should've said nerdy,” Santana clarifies.

“I wasn’t doing those things for this,” Brittany tells her. “I was… I did them to be nice. We don’t always have to be at each other. It doesn’t always have to be a competition.”

Santana shakes her head as she gets to thinking. She knows Brittany’s cunning too, she knows that she can play games so who’s to say she wasn’t playing this time?

“I'm not going,” Santana replies. “You can tell people I'm sick or something.”

Brittany lets out a bitter laugh, “Right. So this relationship thing only works when it's in your favor?”

Santana frowns at the harshness of Brittany’s tone, something that doesn’t feel right coming from the blonde.

“What are you talking about?” Santana huffs. “That’s not – “

“We always do what you want,” Brittany interrupts. “Whatever makes you look good but this one time I ask you for something and it's just a flat out no?”

Brittany’s face has gone a little red and Santana’s further surprised – she didn’t think it was this big of a deal. She doesn’t grasp why Brittany’s so worked up all of sudden. Why would she want someone there with her if they didn’t want to be there in the first place?

“Look, it's better if I don't go because if one dork in clunky black glasses wearing suspenders and a hideous bowtie crosses paths with me I won't be able to contain myself,” Santana argues. “I'll end up hurting someone's feelings and you said it yourself, it's a night for celebration.”

Brittany looks at her like she’s hit a new low. Hell, maybe she just did.

“You're unbelievable,” Brittany huffs as she stands and starts gathering her things.

“What?” Santana watches her with a sudden ache in her chest. “You’re leaving?”

“Clearly,” Brittany mutters. “I can’t be around you right now.”

“All because I don’t want to go?”

Brittany shakes her head, another bitter laugh escaping her.

“No,” She says gravely. “It’s because you’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met.”

Santana tenses at the way her words drip with disdain, but at the same time it puts her on the defense.

“Well sorry that I’m not like you,” Santana argues. “Sorry I can’t just slip into character with ease and be your perfect fake girlfriend whenever you want. Sorry I’m not on all the time like you are.”

Brittany just stares at her for a moment, studying Santana’s face before she speaks again.

“Just when I think I’ve figured you out,” Brittany continues. “Just when I think you’re actually a half-decent person and that maybe beneath this prickly exterior of yours, there’s actually something – someone – deserving of…of a friend you go and prove to me that I’m wrong.”

Santana slumps back in her chair, dejected and defeated.  

Even if Brittany didn’t physical hit her, those words sure did. She can’t even speak as she watches Brittany gather the last of her things and storm out. What’s worse is that she swears she sees blue eyes tinging red just before she turns away.

Santana slaps her hand at the table when the door slams shut behind Brittany. She instantly feels the sting of wood on her open palm.

Why? Why does she always have to screw things up like this?

\\

Puck comes through the door just a minute later, looking confused as well.

“So I just passed Britt in the hall,” He says hesitantly.

“Yeah, she left.”

Puck slowly closes the door behind him, “Why?”

“Because,” Santana lets out a long puff of air. She feels the lump forming again in her throat, strange and unwelcome. “Because I’m an idiot.”

“Dude,” His face falls. “Please tell me you didn’t try to make a move on her. The games earlier were cute and all but – “

“No,” Santana quickly answers. “I didn’t do that.”

“Then what happened?” Puck asks. “She looked really upset.”

Santana presses her lips tightly together, she’s almost ashamed to admit the truth.

“She wanted me to go to some ball with her,” Santana says dismissively. “I told her no.”

“You told her no?” Puck quirks a brow.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Puck frowns. “After all the stuff she’s done for you, you can’t?”

“Look, I can see where I fucked up okay?” Santana snaps. “I don’t need you adding to it.”

Puck shakes his head as he backs off. “You really are an idiot.”

Santana agrees but she doesn’t tell him that.

“You know it’s not a good idea,” Santana tries convincing him. “It’ll be nothing but those academic decathlon nerds and not just the ones from Brittany’s team. It’ll be like ten times that! They’ll be from all over the city and you know how I am around the general public especially when I’m provoked. I could screw up and expose us both. It’s too risky.”

Puck doesn’t say anything, just listens to her excuses.

“I can’t do it,” Santana tells him with finality. “I can’t. Brittany might be pissed at me right now, but she’ll see it’s for the best. I’d just ruin her night because I don’t know how to act anyway. She’ll come around, she has to.”

“Sure Santana,” Puck dismisses and goes to flip open the pizza box. “So…does this mean I can have her pizza too?”

Santana just shakes her head, “Shut up.”

[16woodsequ]

Can I have some more Steve headcannons please?

Okay! *rubs hands together* Today is a kind of ‘meh’ day for me, so Imma hype myself up with some headcanons ^^

Previous headcanon post, and second one.

TW: discussion of PTSD and panic attacks, and just general angst

Alright *checks notes* first headcanon:

Steve knew about the bugs that SHIELD had in his apartment before Fury told him.

I really like this headcanon, and I put it everywhere. But basically, I think that Steve is smart and observant enough to have found the bugs that SHIELD put into his apartment. 

So why would he leave them there? That feeds into another headcanon that I sort of mentioned before, that Steve likes to underestimated. Obviously, SHIELD thought that he either wouldn’t suspect them to bug his home, or he wouldn’t be tech-savvy enough to find the devices. I think Steve wanted to keep it that way. If he removed the bugs, then SHIELD would know he found them, and would react accordingly.

I think Steve would decide it was better to know where the bugs are, rather than remove them and risk having SHIELD put more in that he can’t find. Also, if SHIELD thinks that he doesn’t suspect anything, then they will think whatever they get from his apartment is genuine.

Usually in my mind, SHIELD only implants audio bugs, instead of visual, and they leave his bathroom without bugs.

This is important cuz, for extra angst, now we get to imagine Steve trying to manage his PTSD in an apartment that he knows is bugged. 

As you might know with my ‘SHIELD’s A+ Parenting’ headcanon, I fully think Hydra was willing to let Steve struggle with his PTSD, and I doubt they would have done anything if/when they learned about it... but Steve doesn’t know that. So now we have Steve trying to cover for his PTSD in his own home, and the only respite his has is maybe the bathroom.

With audio feeds only at least, he only has to worry about not making a lot of noise during his flashbacks/nightmares etc, but that is still a lot of pressure. (And don’t imagine Steve curled up and panicking on the floor of his bathroom, cuz that’ll just make you sad).

More SHIELD A+ Parenting/ Hydra is terrible

Going along with Hydra-being-inside-SHIELD-didn’t-help-Steve’s-PTSD: If SHIELD gave Steve some kind of counsellor or psychologist after he woke up from the ice, then I headcanon it was a Hydra agent.

That is terrible for several reasons. For one, Steve’s first experience with modern psychology would be with someone - unbeknownst to him - who did not actually want the best for his wellbeing.

Second, and going along with that, if his Hydra-therapist were to be less helpful than would be ideal, Steve wouldn’t know the difference really, and the people at SHIELD would not suspect that there was a problem. They would think he was getting psychological help, when in reality, he was getting anything but.

This would explain why SHIELD dropped the ball so hard with Steve.

Third, after SHIELD, I imagine Steve would be reluctant to get actual help. At some point he is going to have to learn what actual therapy is like. And, maybe, when Natasha puts all of SHIELD’s records onto the internet, he finally learns the his original psychologist was Hydra. That would be extremely violating, and I imagine it would take him a long time afterwards to trust going to a therapist at all— even with encouragement from Sam.  

Final headcanon for the day, and going along with the terrible Hydra psychologist: Hydra and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Cabin

This one gets my blood boiling because it is actually canon that SHIELD (/Hydra), sent Steve to “The Retreat” at some point after he woke up from the ice. (This is mentioned in Agents of SHIELD, not in the movies.)

What is The Retreat you asks? Here is the wiki on it, here is the gist:

This safe house retreat is a log cabin that is lined with the same vibranium alloy that is used in "The Cage" on the Bus. The S.H.I.E.L.D. battering ram took a long time to penetrate the door, even though it took very short for them to penetrate the highly armored SUV of Nick Fury. The kitchen was fully equipped with a fridge, sink, and microwave. The living room has a few couches, however, they are very uncomfortable. There is a computer in one corner. A laser fence also lines the perimeter of the property, keeping everything inside contained. Security cameras show everything that happens along the area.

 So. A cabin in the middle of nowhere, with security cameras everywhere, and a laser fence around the perimeter.

In other words. A very fancy cell.

*unidentifiable sounds of rage*

Okay. *breathes*. So. We don’t know when, or how long Steve stayed at the cabin (Coulson said ‘after he was defrosted’ and ‘a few weeks’), but, as you can imagine, I have headcanons about those.

Usually I headcanon that Steve is at the cabin for about two weeks, and that SHIELD/Hydra sold it to him as ‘a quiet place were he can catch up on what he missed’. Meaning that they left him there with all the files of the history he missed and told him he could leave once he was finished going through them.

I imagine his (hydra) therapist told him that in order to pass his psych exam for SHIELD, he would need to go to The Retreat. Which is wonderfully manipulative, because it would force Steve to go through all those (probably traumatic) files all by himself if he wants to a) leave the cabin, and b) work for SHIELD (and you can bet that his hydra-therapist made it seem unlikely that he would be able to manage working anywhere else in the 21st century.)

Now, headcanons as to when he did this. I have two separate versions that live side-by-side in my head:

One: SHIELD did this to him before the Battle of New York. 

This is just sad because it would mean that Steve spent two+ weeks isolated and alone, reading up on everything he missed, but not really being able to learn about and experience the world he woke up in, before suddenly having to fight aliens and meet his dead-friend’s son (who is 15 years older than him) shortly after finally getting out. 

If you want a reason for Steve being high-strung in Avengers, and doing his utmost not to show his PTSD because then he might get sent back to the cabin? Then there you go.

Two: SHIELD sent him to the cabin after the Battle of New York. 

I don’t know why, but unlike a lot of people, at the end of Avengers, I didn’t assume that Steve was driving off on his motorcycle to ‘see the world’ or whatever. I instinctively interpreted it as him just driving back to his apartment.

So, if we decide that Steve decides he wants to join SHIELD at the end of Avengers, then that is when SHIELD/Hydra might decide to send him to the cabin.

Which is just great cuz I’m sure fighting aliens and watching people die only a short while after waking up from the ice was just great for Steve and he didn’t need any support or anything during that time. Nah. Isolate him alone in a cabin. Should be fine. 

If you want a reason for Steve distrusting therapists and never wanting to admit having problems because he thinks that basically institutionalizing people is still a legitimate technique? There you go.

One day I will write a fic about this bloody cabin, but I haven’t yet.  

So yeah. SHIELD/Hydra sucks. And Steve suffered for it.

Apparently we got really angsty headcanons today, but they were fun to share! I hope you enjoyed, and if you want more headcanons let me know! 

Headcanon masterpost