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depressedhatakekakashi · 2 years

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i love love LOVE character studies with Kakashi where they analyze his weird-ass reputation and dynamic with older shinobi and how he's viewed by the community as a whole- on one hand he's stuck working with the same people he vividly remembers sneering at his father after his mission and even some who didnt approve of him even after sakumo's death, and then some people think he's a bloodthirsty killer that cannot be contained (what is this animosity fueled by? his father's reputation? the out of control rumors after obito and rin's death? hatred because he's so much more younger and capable than them? that kakashi is so rule abiding yet also unconventional in such strange ways that he feels like an uncontrollable entity all together therefore people look on him with caution and distrust? it depends, it could be all)

some people think he's a hard-ass, some people think he's a lazy but decorated weirdo (some perhaps speculate favoritism? his sensei was the esteemed yondaime and he did fly through the ranks so quickly even tho he acts like a pervert with his nose always stuck in a book and even tsunade-sama trusts and values his opinion- nevermind that he flew through the ranks even before minato became hokage, idiots speculate whatever they want to fuel their prejudiced agenda)

even when he proves himself time and time again, loathing is implanted in peoples heads towards his unorthodox attitude and teachings (when he was younger they thought of him as a know-it-all who should know his place and shouldnt be so blatantly "flaunting" his prowess to older shinobi, he expelled so many students and his first team ended so horribly why did they even allow him to be sensei in the first place- his students all grew under the sanin way better than they ever could with him. they shouldve put the last uchiha and the wretched kyuubi under someone who taught them what their place is in the village and that they should ultimately give their whole being into serving konoha, they need to be controlled and of use or else theyre nothing)

overall what a wonderful disaster to explore :D for us atleast, not for Kakashi. that sucks

I have held onto this for so long because like, I love it. You portray perfectly both cannon people's views of Kakashi ( a mix between those who hate Kakashi and call him a lazy perv and those who respect him, and those who want to use him (like Danzo and Hiruzen) and don't otherwise care for him all that much) and how Fandom approached the character

It's just so in depth and like, right.

I adore Kakashi, i see his faults. Where he could have been better, where he tried his hardest but fell short for one reason or another, and where he excels.

and i'm always seeing how Canon and Fandom treat him and scratching my head. Cannon makes sense because people don't know everything. Like Yamato had his reservations about Kakashi before he left Root and it was because of what others said, but in the end, he saw Kakashi for who he truly was

Kind-hearted, protective, determined, and very broken.

Fandom i don't really get because i'll see shit like 'Kakashi's a bad Sensei' or 'Kakashi can't lead and isn't a good tactical leader' and like...did we watch the same show? did these people miss everything?

I love exploring how Canon characters viewed him because there's OPTIONS

his peers who saw what he went through and may have once thought he was an ass (Asuma and Shizune come to mind) but saw how he grew and changed and became friends with him because they realized that through it all Kakashi was kind. He wanted to protect people and he would do all he could to keep them alive, even if it cost him his own life

his elders. Choza and Shikaku really come to mind here. They're Minato's generation so they knew what happened with Sakumo, but when they look at Kakashi they see someone who is smart, driven and successful. Shikaku trusted Kakashi's abilities and judgement so much he straight-up suggested him for Hokage. CHoza knew Kakashi's self-sacrificing and overworking attitude well enough to check in on him during Pein's attack.

then you have the villagers. The ones who don't know the shinobi's life whispered about Sakumo while little Kakashi passed by. The kids who just see a dorky old man, the elders who see a kind man willing to help them when they need it. They've had their judgements but it all comes around to 'Kakashi is a dork but he's kind'. I don't think we ever see the Villagers actually call him a perv (only Temari, Naruto and Sakura do in cannon and honestly it's for the dumbest reason's)

then you have the one's who use Kakahsi. Who see his skill and his broken heart and treat him as disposable but useful. Danzo, who would love Kakashi's skill but when he realizes Kakashi won't give it to him he puts him on an enemies list and at the soonest opportunity tries to have him killed. Hirzuen who just uses Kakashi over and over. Kakashi was never close to Hiruzen like he is Tsunade even though he constantly told Hiruzen about the things Danzo did and proved himself worthy. Hirzuen didn't see Kakashi as Tsunade did.

He saw a tool that he could discard when he was used up.

Tsunade saw a valuable asset and a person. Someone who is smart and who could help her when she needed it, but who was also very broken and very willing to turn his back if he needed to (like putting of an S rank mission to go get Naruto and Sasuke in the sasuke retrieval arc.)

Kakahsi is such a complex interesting character and that complexity shows so well in hjow other characters react to him. His students and those his age can see his abilities at times, but mostly they see a dorky man who just wants to relax and have fun, and maybe doesn't take his job seriously enough

Kakashi's friends see a broken but dedicated man

Minato's generation see's an intelligent shinobi, a strong shinobi, and a dedicated friend who has been so broken but keeps fighting

Tsunade's generation see's a skilled, intelligent man who has let himself slip at times and probably could be stronger than he is, but they also sort of understand why he slipped because Jiraiya and Tsunade sort of did the same (Tsunade with her drinking, Jiraiya with his running off and just futsing around and being a real perv)

Hiruzen's gen see a tool and nothing else.

Villagers are the most diverse but i think they're the most interesting because at the end of the day they're the FIRST to see a human. There are so many villagers who don't go 'omg Hatake Kakashi the copy ninja so cool' or roll their eyes and call him a dork. they see someone willing to help them when he can and i think they appreciate that.

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hannahsmusings · 1 year

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Jackson

*Jackson just nodded his agreement, despising e-books, not understanding how anyone could prefer reading on your phone to holding a book in your hand and physically turning the pages, scoffing just at the thought of it all* Honestly, I think I’d rather wear all the blue suits in the world before even purchasing an ebook, nevermind reading one. There is nothing better in this world than a physical, heavy, classic book. *Jackson spent majority of his down time reading when he wasn’t catching up on sleep, it being his favorite pastime, loving to sit in his study by the window, especially when it rained, and just lose himself in a book* *those instances were rare, not able to remember the last time he was able to do it properly, but he yearned for that sort of escape* *Jackson’s brows quirk up when you mention him wearing navy suits but it wasn’t the comment that made him take pause, it was the way your eyes drifted away for a few seconds, you being lost in thought about something and your cheeks flushed even deeper* *he swallowed thickly, shrugging, not wanting to believe that you had perhaps envisioned him in a navy suit and that made your mind drift off and make your eyes go slightly hazy like that, you were probably thinking about your boyfriend or something* I do have a few navy suits… I never wear them. But maybe to make my mother quit talking about it, and now with you here working on a secret agenda, I can break one of them out. *he downs the rest of his glass of wine before grabbing the bottle and refilling, taking a nice long sip, needing to distract himself with something and drinking seemed like the best option as usual* *he couldn’t help but glance at you again from over the rim of his wine glass, taking in your flushed cheeks and his stomach tightened and he felt his own cheeks warm, desperate to know what was going on in your head*

_____________________________________________

*nods in agreement, smiling at the thought of reading because I loved doing it, Matt always getting frustrated at me because I always wanted to read and he wanted to talk all the time, the thought of Matt making my stomach sink a little because he still hadn’t contacted me, despite there being a life threatening storm outside and us fighting last night* *blinks out of my thoughts as I sip my wine, turning to focus on you with a playful smile as you mention wearing a navy suit, chuckling a little* I’m sure your mother and your fans would be grateful. I can see the headlines now. ‘Ford Makes a Statement in His Navy Suit Debut!’. *puts on a reporter voice for the headline, giggling a little to myself and eyes glinting with amusement, not even noticing how much I’d relaxed around you again, it seeming that no matter what bumps we had in our relationship we always found ourselves here with our walls down, something about you making me feel so at ease, especially in this moment with the flickering of the fire and candles and the sound of the rain* *watches you and cocks a brow as you down the rest of your wine, admiring your hands as you pour before glancing up at your eyes again, breath hitching when they catch yours looking at me and my face softening, biting my lip without even thinking about it*

#submission #hannah plot

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commsroom · 3 years

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I can’t start getting into it, but I need Hera to have some kind of physical presence post-canon because the idea that this is the only time she and Eiffel ever touch (or that she ever touches anyone she cares about, for that matter) is literally unbearable.

#wolf 359 #w359 #eiffera #depending on your perspective re: eiffel's memories it might be anyway i KNOW okay i know. i reject that outright.#i just think she deserves a hug. at least. but also they should kiss #also 1) because i'm unwell i can tell you that yes this is the only physical interaction in the script hera ever has with anyone she likes.#you can maybe count the one that says she rushes to eiffel's side but it's not as direct #and 2) ... actually nevermind i have way more thoughts on this but they need to be in an actual post. re: the way hera thinks of herself #and how i constantly see people ascribe the 'human' parts of her to some like... assigned-for-human-comfort agenda #when from my perspective #it's the /AI/ part that is being put on her and the 'human' part that is her own developed sense of self #i think that's especially clear in the way pryce dehumanizes hera and strips her of her identity as a method of control #anyway. later. i'm going back to thinking about eiffel and hera now #'once and never again' is SO much worse than not at all. ohh my god

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real-jane · 2 years

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Right For You, Too

[Bucky Barnes x fem!reader] [past Steve Rogers x reader]

Part 2 of the Right For You-niverse

Summary: A birthday re-do at Yankee Stadium, sweet questions, a surprise from Cap.

Warnings: None. Fluff for days and days.

Words: 4.9k+

A/N: This is the sequel to Wrong About Me, Right For You. Enjoy!

like what I do? buy me a coffee on ko-fi. :)

It was so warm that the heat off the pavement made the ice cream vendor on the corner of River and E 161st look like an oasis. Straight off the D train, which unloaded an ocean of white and blue pinstripes, Bucky knelt to offer you a piggyback ride–nevermind that it was too hot to tolerate someone else’s skin against his own; it was all in the name of your birthday, and that meant scoping out which intersection the sunglasses vendor had posted up at. Wherever the ice cream vendor was, Sal’s Sunglass Shack would be at the adjacent corner (Sal flirted with his wife across the street, as she scooped over-large helpings of vanilla into waffle cones before they could liquify, and pretend like they were thirty years younger).

“There!” You spotted Lara’s Ice Cream. “Think she’ll let me dunk my whole head in rocky road?”

“Doesn’t hurt to ask,” Bucky laughed. “Why’d you have to have your birthday when it was pushing a hundred?”

“I like seeing you sweat, Jamie.”

“What a pest.” He lovingly pinched your thigh, and crossed the street with the tide of sports fans when the light turned green.

It was unfairly hot, sticky even, but… Bucky didn’t mind that you were clinging to his shoulders, occasionally brushing your lips against his temple. When you had come out of your bedroom when he picked you up, holding a gift bag, he had narrowed his eyes. It was your birthday celebration, and here you were giving him gifts. So now, he was walking with the girl of his dreams in matching Lou Gehrig jerseys. They weren’t vintage–you’d said you had them made after he told you Gehrig was his favorite player as a kid, and your names were embroidered over the left breast, and it was the most thoughtful gift Bucky had ever received.

Then, you had put your cap on backwards and kissed him. Like you kissed his cheek now: sweet and lingering. “In case I forget to say it later, I had a nice time today.”

Bucky glanced up at you. “Don’t jinx it,” he chuckled.

“Doesn’t matter what happens. I might take a foul ball to the chin. Still. I’m here with you, and that’s the best thing you could do for my birthday.”

“I haven’t given you your present yet.” Bucky was so nervous about said present, he’d be sweating even if it was twenty below, but he was trying not to show it.

“What did you get me?”

“You gotta wait, doll. We have an agenda, remember? Two scoops of rocky road. Three pairs of sunglasses. It’s pretty far down the list.”

Upon arriving at Lara’s cart, Bucky allowed you to jump down. The gray-haired woman beamed; she had come to know both you and Bucky this season, and she knew before you had to ask that you both wanted “the usual.” Two scoops of rocky road ice cream, in a cup.

“It’s her birthday,” Bucky mouthed to Lara, pointing at you, and looking away innocently when you caught him. You poked him in the side.

“Honey! You came all the way here to see me on your day?” Lara said, like a history-making rivalry wasn’t being played out fifty yards from her cart.

“Technically it’s tomorrow, but yes.” You grinned. “Nowhere else I’d rather be!”

“Well your scoops are on me. Not yours, kiddo–you’re not special today.” She winked at Bucky, who couldn’t agree more.

Bucky gave her enough cash for three people’s worth of ice cream. “I gotta see a man about some sunglasses.” He signalled to Sal’s stand, where one Sam Wilson was currently perusing like he hadn’t been waiting for the two of you as planned. You gave him a thumb’s up. Bucky jogged across the street. Sam whistled as he approached.

“Look who’s in new gear! Gehrig, too? With your name–you’re kidding me.”

“That little nightmare had it made.” He nodded at you. You stuck your tongue out, and then used it on the rapidly-dripping ice cream. “I would’ve cried, except I am way too nervous.”

“I picked these out,” Sam said, temporarily ignoring Bucky’s nerves. He presented three identical pairs of sporty sunglasses, which had dark oil-slicked lenses and glinted from purple to yellow in shifting light. They were ridiculous, and perfect. “They’re not aviators, but I thought they’d make her laugh.”

“Say no more.” Bucky batted Sam’s hand away when he reached for his wallet. “Please. Hemorrhaging money helps me calm down. No offense, Sal.”

“Nobody else I’d rather gouge than you and your girl, Barnes.” The old man wore a tiny pair of circular sunglasses at the end of his nose, which served no purpose except making him look like he flew a dirigible.

Sam snorted. “Got any birthday deals in honor of the Princess?”

“Oh, I charge double for birthdays,” Sal snickered.

“How about for Cap?” Bucky suggested.

Sal shook his head. “Can’t afford the endorsement. But when I hit the big time, I’ll give you a ring.”

“You got it, Sal. Buck–Why are you freaking out?” Sam asked, when Bucky stole a glance across the street for the millionth time.

“Well…” Bucky hadn’t exactly told Sam the whole truth when he had invited him to come join the two of you for the big game. Mostly, he’d just insinuated that given how crappy your last one had been with Steve ditching, he had wanted to make it up to you. Sam readily agreed, and had even suggested going in with Bucky on season tickets as your gift, but… “I’m gonna ask her to move in with me.”

Sam blinked. He glanced between you and Bucky, and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Y’all are… don’t tease me, man. Please, for the love of god… is this a thing? You two?”

“Depends,” Bucky blushed. “Are you happy about it or not?”

“You’re joking.”

Bucky scratched his cheek. “It’s very much a thing.”

Sam’s face fell for a moment, and his head dropped forward. He let out one long breath. When he looked up again, his eyes were shining. He held out his hand, and pulled Bucky in for a firm hug. He kept shaking his head, and smiling, but he looked so sad. Bucky patted his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “I think that’s the feeling.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why it’s hittin’ me like this. You two deserve it.”

“Thanks, man.”

“How long?”

“Ran into each other by chance about five months ago,” Bucky said. “And, um.” He shrugged. “It was like… we both could breathe. Dunno. Maybe it sounds stupid–”

“Man, it sounds like you both finally got some sense,” Sam chuckled. “I never understood why she stayed with him when he ditched her all the time. Not complaining–it meant I got to know her when she wasn’t doing the Cap’s Girlfriend thing where she just… you remember how she’d stand behind his elbow and smile? God. Killed me. She’s the funniest person in any room, unless Steve was there, and her entire sense of humor got siphoned away–sorry. I’m clearly still pissed at him.”

“Nah. I’m sorry it took us so long to tell you, but we’ve been dealing with Steve’s stuff and trying to sell his place–turns out it’s hard to do when the owner had no will.”

To say it had been difficult was the understatement of both centuries which Bucky had seen, but it was resolved. Steve’s things were gone–given away to museums, thrift stores, or tossed if neither places wanted them–and now you and Bucky might actually focus on moving forward like you had been prevented from doing for so long.

“Christ,” Sam sighed. “Shoulda told me. I would’ve helped.”

Bucky shook his head. “She had a hard time with it. Sometimes she couldn’t handle me being there. It was something we had to do slowly, and give her a chance to breathe into the empty spaces until it was all gone. So. That’s done.”

“And now you’re gonna ask her to live with you.”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. I still… Sam, sometimes I wake up and worry he’ll come back.”

“Won’t happen.”

“Too many unknowns to feel secure in that. But. She knows how I feel.”

“You have been head over heels for that woman since at least her last birthday.”

“Longer. God–way longer. Years.”

“I know,” Sam said. He clasped Bucky’s shoulder. “I’ve seen you spend your whole day with her and then I’ve seen the aftermath, when you’re so sad you can’t form words, because you had to put her hand in his and walk away. Hurt me to see it. You two have always been two peas in a pod. You always fit better with her, and–”

“And now?” Bucky motioned to you. You were standing on top of the cement planter box, hands on your hips. You waved and grinned with delight.

“Come on slow pokes!” You hollered.

“She’s a live wire,” Bucky said proudly. “No making herself smaller, none of that shit anymore.”

“Thank god.” Sam pointed at you, and howled when you pointed right back.

“If you two are standin’ here all day, mind if I take a smoke break?” Sal leaned over the table covered in colorful frames, none of which likely cost him more than a dollar a piece, which didn’t account for his prices in the mid-twenties. He gestured to the sunglasses Sam had picked out. “You keeping my girl waiting?”

“Sorry, Sal.” Bucky paid Sal for the glasses, and put his on to hide the terror in his eyes. “I’m so nervous, I’m afraid I’m gonna ask her to the tune of take me out to the ballgame.”

“First of all… she would love that,” Sam laughed. “She will cry of happiness.”

Sam was right. Bucky knew that. It didn’t make him feel any better. Making you cry had about a fifty-fifty shot at making him feel terrible and lose his nerve, even if you were crying out of happiness. He couldn’t help it. He never wanted to see you weep when he was involved, but it couldn’t be helped in this case. There was no way you wouldn’t. He also was pretty certain you’d be happy. So.

When Bucky and Sam joined you across the street, you doubled over with laughter at the sight of them in their shades. You had to set their ice cream down or you would’ve let it fall to the pavement. Once you recovered, you lept at Sam for an enthusiastic hug.

“Hey, Bean!” Sam twirled you around with a laugh. “God, you are so old!”

“You’re older than me, Robin.”

“Nice of you to take two old men out for your birthday.” Sam set you on your feet again and offered you the glasses so you would be stylin’ too. “I hope these are ridiculous enough for your weird sensibilities.”

“You have such subtle taste,” you giggled. “But I gotta say–you both look very sexy in them, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say you belong in the Yankees dugout.”

“Strippers were expensive, so. Play your luck right and you might get your own personal dance from our resident hunk.” Sam shoved Bucky’s shoulder, pushing him right out of the brooding panic he was in. “Not me, though. Got bad hips.”

“See? Ancient,” you giggled. “Can we go in?” You handed them each their own ice cream soup.

Sunglasses on, ice cream finished, wet wipes used from the small cross-body bag Bucky wore, the little party entered the stadium.

The seats Sam and Bucky had gone in on together were behind the first base line, right where you’d have the vantage of players coming out of the dugout. As far as you were aware, that was the grand birthday present you were waiting for. Bucky sat with you, while Sam took off in search of several combo boxes. You wiggled in your seat in excitement, chattering away about your favorite players as their faces flashed up on the jumbotron, and how very likely it was that they would beat the Dodgers, given their stats, on and on… how cool it was to be able to see the stitching in the baseballs, how much you loved the smell of the dirt…

“Baby, this is so cool!” you finished, fingers pressed into your cheeks to try to put a bottle on the smile which was threatening to cramp your dimples.

“It is,” Bucky laughed. He put his arm behind your chair, but thought better of holding your shoulders, given how hot the metal seat back was. He had never been more thankful vibranium didn’t retain heat.

“To think–we used to have to imagine the baseball from all the way up there.” You indicated the nosebleed seats, where you and Bucky had been sitting habitually this season. You were beaming, but your glee settled into an anxious itch as the music began to play.

“It’ll be over quick,” he soothed.

“You think I’ll ever get over his stupid voice?” You peeped. You meant Steve’s voice–Cap, as he made the formal announcements. It had been several weeks since you’d been to a game, but usually, you waited in the beer line so you didn’t have to see his face up on the jumbotron, either. Bucky brushed your temple. First would come take me out to the ballgame, and his deep, resonant voice would boom, welcoming fans to Yankee Stadium.

“You’ve heard it a million times, you know it’s a three minute clip and it’s done.” Bucky was always as shaken by it as you, but he tried to look passive for your sake. Still, you sagged into his side.

“I’m so sorry,” you murmured. “It’s just–”

“Hey.” Bucky tipped your chin up. “Why you apologizing?”

“I don’t want you to think I… miss him. Or something.”

“It’s okay to miss him, doll. He’s no threat to my peace of mind,” Bucky lied, like he hadn’t admitted to Sam that very fear. Still.

“Okay,” you breathed. “But. Before I get all goofy, I… you know I love you.”

You hadn’t been saying it for long. A few weeks, at most, but. Bucky never got tired of hearing it, even though every time you said it, it hit his ear like you’d been practicing it in the mirror. You were still nervous to tell him. As if he hadn’t been in love with you since Steve introduced the two of you.

“I love you too.” He smiled gently. “Especially when you’re goofy.”

The song ended, and you laid your cheek against Bucky’s shoulder to brace for impact. But Steve Roger’s narration never came. Instead… you gasped. Captain America strode to the pitcher’s mound. Your Cap–the one who had cried at a sunglasses stall over being happy for you and Bucky. The man who kept his promises.

Sam.

The crowd roared. He was wearing a different jersey than his usual Ripken duds, which he had been wearing when he met up with you and Bucky–his own custom uniform, with Wilson on the back in bright red lettering against the navy blue, offsetting the subtle white pinstripes. Obviously outside the usual uniform standards, but exceptions were made for Cap. He was still wearing his stupid douchey sunglasses, and a hat with the Yankees logo, but with the shield behind it. It was perfect.

“They gave him a jersey with away colors?” you protested, but you were sniffling.

Sam winked at the two of you, and chuckled at your stunned faces. “Good afternoon, Yankee Stadium!” His voice bellowed. He had a little microphone pinned to his collar. The crowd was electric. “I would like to personally thank you for coming today, on this, the hottest day in the history of baseball. We are about to witness an iconic game, a rivalry between the coasts. As a Louisiana boy, I can’t pick sides… but one of these fine teams gave me a free t-shirt.” He gestured to his torso and the truly beautiful jersey he wore. “As a side-note… I want to thank you all for being here for my first game as your Captain America.”

If the crowd could’ve stormed the field to lift Sam on their shoulders, they would have. The whole stadium chanted Cap, Cap, Cap, Cap… on and on. Bucky squeezed your knee, and you shared a look of awe with him. Pride, too. That was his best friend. Sam wasn’t one to let fame go to his head, but this was different. He loved baseball more than most people like anything, and he was getting this opportunity to share his new role with a whole stadium of people who loved baseball, too. It was awesome, in every sense of the word.

When the crowd calmed enough for him to speak, Sam said, “Please join me in welcoming to the field… the Los Angeles Dodgers!” And the attention was diverted from him once more, as he liked it.

As the starting lineup for the Dodgers jogged on the field, Sam read off their names, and each man in turn raised an arm to greet the crowd. A smattering of Dodgers fans cheered. Then, the music changed. New York, New York began, and Sam grinned.

“And now… your boys… give it up for the New York Yankees!”

You and Bucky were on your feet in an instant, and you cheered so loud for your favorite players, Bucky was certain you were going to lose your voice.

Sam took a baseball and a glove from the Yankees catcher. He fit the glove, took his stance, and threw out the first pitch–a beautiful, fast throw which had the catcher wincing. This was, after all, the man who regularly threw a heavy shield. Sam shook the catcher’s hand, and pulled a marker out of his pocket. He offered it to the catcher, and had him sign the baseball. You and Sam often talked about how good number sixty-six was, how much of an asset he was to the team; it was surreal to see him speaking to the man himself. Then, Sam was crowded by guys from both teams, shaking his hand or patting his back, thrilled to meet Captain America. He passed around his baseball and glove to as many players as possible. The field was a little bit chaotic, but for Sam’s first game as Cap… it was perfect.

The regular announcer took over, but not before Sam ran over to the railing. He held out the glove and ball… to you.

“Happy birthday, Bean. From your team.” He winked. You looked up at Bucky, who was as shocked as you.

“Samuel Elizabeth, that was a dirty trick!” You crowed, clutching the ball and glove to your chest. Sam hauled himself up over the railing (which was an illegal and uncouth thing to do, but the security guard standing nearby chortled and gave him a thumbs up), and pulled you into a tight hug.

“Listen, I… I’m proud of you,” you said, making eye contact with Bucky over his shoulder. Sam squeezed you tighter. “Please tell me this is permanent.”

“Oh yeah, baby! You’ll hear my dulcet tones at the top of every inning, too.” He rubbed your back.

“You didn’t plan this specifically for my birthday, did you?” You pulled back sharply to look Sam in the eye. He shook his head.

“Happy coincidence. This guy didn’t know, either.” He patted Bucky’s shoulder. “So. Surprise! Y’all are my people, and I’m so glad we’ll be sitting in these seats together for every home game.”

“Seriously. You two are so sneaky. I cried on our tickets this morning,” you admitted. Bucky nodded when Sam looked at him for confirmation.

“You know she will sleep with that glove on,” Bucky snickered as you held the new leather to your skin. “Gonna have Gerrit Cole’s autograph printed on your forehead.”

“It would be an honor,” you said dreamily.

“I gotta go do a press thing,” Sam said, “but I’ll be back before the second inning.”

“With those sunglasses on?” you teased.

“I know you ain’t insulting Captain America’s shades.”

“I would never.” You pulled your own down the tip of your nose and winked.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Sure you wouldn’t, Princess Beanie.”

“I swear to god.” You punched his arm, and immediately winced from the impact. “Get out of here with your stupid nicknames, and bring me the shittiest beer in the place when you come back!”

Sam saluted, and disappeared again, back up the steps this time, after giving Bucky a prolonged hug. Sam received many pats on the back as he passed through the fans, and there was something really… moving, watching him walk through the crowd, instead of trying to avoid them like… well, it didn’t matter. Comparison was pointless. Sam was Captain America, baseball’s Cap, and Bucky couldn’t be prouder.

You sat beside him, and handed your new souvenirs over for Bucky to inspect. He pushed the sunglasses to the top of his head and whistled. “This is amazing. We gotta get you a real good display. Something that swivels so you can see all sides.”

“Where would I put something like that?” you giggled, as Bucky reverently ran his thumb over Cole’s autograph.

He gulped. “Well. Honey… you, um, could keep these at mine.”

“Yeah?”

“But… they would miss you, so. You’d have to visit pretty often.”

Your eyes sparkled with laughter from beneath your own sunglasses. “We haven’t spent one night apart in five months, but do go on.”

Bucky touched your chin. “Y/n… You know how I feel about you.”

“Remind me.” You leaned into his touch. Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Please?”

“You're gonna make me get sappy in front of total strangers.”

“You don’t mind, do you, sir?” The man behind you was on his third beer and couldn’t have cared less if you jumped Bucky right there. “Go on.” You took off your glasses and hooked them on the front of Bucky’s jersey, smoothing your hand over his heart to give him courage.

“You are so lucky you’re cute.” Bucky cleared his throat. “I’m in love with you, babydoll. I’ve not made any secret of that since you snotted on me on our sushi date. But. I want to share a closet with you. Well… give you my closet, you know I have one suit, I’m not a hanging clothes kinda guy. And I wanna put up all our photos on one wall, and have his and hers mugs. So. Really, what I’m trying to say is: now that we’ve sold his place, I would love it if you moved in with me. You basically already live there, but. I got you a copy of my key. Actually–I wasn’t supposed to do that, so please don’t tell the super,” he said quickly, nervously. “I should’a asked you a while back, but I think part of me was still… I dunno. Not sure. If this is what you wanted.”

“Take a breath,” you said, breathless yourself. Sure enough… your eyes were brimming with unspent tears. You held onto his wrist as his thumb made circles over your jaw. “You still worried that if he was standing right here, I’d pick him?”

Bucky’s heart was in his throat. He didn’t want to nod, so he kissed you. Softly, to ask for forgiveness for being weak. But you hummed.

“Let me put you out of your misery, handsome. I’ll move in with you. I would love to.” You kissed the corners of his mouth, and his forehead. “I should’ve known from the minute I met you that you were it, Jamie. It was you who made my skin all tingly, not him. I wasted a lot of time because I thought I was lucky Steve chose me, but… you made me believe I deserve to be chosen. If he was here right now, I’d probably… well, I’d throw up on him out of shock, most likely. That would say everything. Just, all over his stupid Keds.”

“Gross,” he laughed. “But effective.”

“Yep. And I’d look him straight in the eye, and say, ‘the love of my life is James Barnes, so skedaddle!’ Something old-timey to twist the knife.” A tear streaked down your cheek to punctuate the feeling.

“So evil, so cute.” He wrinkled his nose. “Well. Okay, then. You’re gonna be my live-in lover.”

“‘Live-in lover,’ Jesus Christ. Am I your dame, old man?”

“I’m sorry, woman!”

“Oh boy. You hate the word ‘girlfriend,’” you giggled.

“I’m going to tickle you to death.”

***

The Yankees beat the Dodgers just for you, and Captain America provided a full flight of New York’s shittiest beer on tap to celebrate. You had a better birthday than you ever remembered having, and it was capped by Bucky and Sam helping you move what little belongings you had left into Bucky’s place the next day… your actual birthday.

Sam filled the long wall down the hallway with framed photographs–of the three of you, several of only you and Bucky on the various excursions and dates you had gone on since reconnecting, baby pictures of you, Bucky’s enlistment headshot, family photos of the Barneses… filled. Bucky built a bookshelf for your tiny collection of books, which barely filled one box. It was aspirational, he told you. You tossed your underwear into the drawer with his, and hung all your clothes in the closet, just like he hoped.

Seeing your belongings next to Bucky’s–sometimes indistinguishable from them–filled you with such a sense of peace that you wanted to stay awake as long as possible to enjoy your new reality. Sam left shortly after midnight, after treating you all to the best pizza in New York. Bucky fell asleep hard, soon after. But you stayed up, snuggled against him in the bed you’d slept in as long as you’d been together, but now was yours permanently. Bucky’s resistance to the word ‘girlfriend’ wasn’t discouraging, as far as forever was concerned. In fact…

At three fifteen in the morning, Bucky was awoken by soft fingers smoothing hair from his forehead. He opened one eye. Yours were glassy in the moonlight, and you smiled.

“Hey,” he whispered sleepily, catching your fingers and pressing them to his lips. You smiled, but… “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you said, but your voice caught on thick emotion. “Everything is so perfect that I found myself laying here, crying.”

“Why, darlin’?”

“‘Cuz you’re good to me.”

“You deserve that,” he said. Bucky kissed your brow. “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, no contest.” He laced your fingers together. “That’s been true since the day I first laid eyes on you. It’s only gotten more obvious with time. And now you sleep in my bed! How’d I get so lucky?”

“Because every morning,” you began, pressing your hand to his bare chest, over his heart, “you wake up and choose me.”

Bucky yawned. “Listen—it has never felt like a choice I have to make. That would be like ‘you, or breathing.”

“Had a nightmare the other night,” you admit, softly. “I was running to catch up with you, but you couldn’t hear me. And I was screaming, and trying to tell you how much I love you—but you turned around, finally, and realized I was there, and you vanished.”

“Shit. Been binging some Greek mythology?”

“Right? God.” You winced.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I did. Kinda. You rolled on top of me and said something I didn’t quite understand, and then started snoring.”

“I’m so charming,” Bucky snorted.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Would you wanna marry me? Someday. Not… not this second.” The moment it came out, you rubbed your cheek in worry. “I’ve never been with somebody who I wanted to marry before. But it keeps popping into my head. Every time I think about it, it feels so perfect. And not because you gave me season tickets to the Yankees, even though I’m so happy about it I want to cry all over again! And not because you asked me to move in, either. It’s everything else.”

Bucky swallowed hard, and rubbed his eyes. “You didn’t want to, with Steve?”

“No.”

“You’re serious,” he murmured. “You’d wanna be with just me, forever.”

“Only you, Barnes.”

“I’m—I—how… shit, gimme a second.” Bucky pinched his nose. Your face fell. “No, don’t do that, doll—I gotta find the words. Still half asleep. My brain is outpacing my mouth, here.” He grasped your chin between his thumb and index finger. “You’re telling me… I could call you my wife?”

You nodded faintly, smiling.

He didn’t hesitate, then. “Yes.”

You blinked. “Yeah? You mean it?”

“I want to.”

“You sure?”

“Babydoll, I’m serious as a heart attack.”

“You can live with this mess for the rest of your life?”

“I insist on it.”

“Might change your mind when you’ve had me as a roommate for a while.”

“Impossible.”

“Okay. That’s all, then. Go back to sleep.” You curled into his chest and fit yourself in such a position which had him laughing because of how ridiculous it was to have you burrowing as close as possible. He rubbed your back until you fell asleep.

But then he couldn’t sleep, because… because he was right. Right to love you, and to ask you to move in, and right to let himself feel every hard thing about Steve leaving until he could pick his fear apart and let it go, because for once, he wasn’t really scared about the future. The intrusive thoughts might still trickle in now and again, but his girlfriend was you, and you wanted the same things he did. Whether it was an entire afternoon of pro-baseball, or a life together. You were in.

Part 3

***

Thanks for reading! :)

my masterlist - my bucky barnes masterlist

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction

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windblooms · 3 years

Text

mondstadt boys – how they kiss their s/o

mondstadt boys × gender-neutral!reader; 1k words. headcanons of how albedo, diluc, kaeya, and venti kiss their s/o. fluff/sfw.

- ̗̀ albedo ̖́-

he'd only ever heard of physical affection from lisa – and, admittedly, only because was at the wrong place at the right time.

"oh, didn't you know? when two people have affections for each other, they might kiss, and the sensation is . . . rather shocking."

romantic context or not, albedo wouldn't exactly consider being “shocked” a positive experience. he's already been electrocuted one too many times from various trials involving the odd combination of lightning prisms and noctilucous jade, and isn't eager to intentionally replicate the sensation.

however, since albedo’s involved himself with you, he makes an exception to this precedent on the daily: fleeting kisses on your cheeks when they’re rosy, on your lips when soft words are on the edge, and even around the shell of your ear. his pecks are very innocent in nature; albedo isn’t an incredibly sentimental individual, rational to nearly a fault. and even when he does choose to indulge in tender emotions, they’re in your name and exceedingly brief.

he’ll study the reactions you give, invested in the things that bring you joy – and he’s ultimately found his kisses to be one of them, so he persists.

“well then, it looks like you’re satisfied for now. hm, more? if you’re like this now, i wonder what will happen if you go without me for even a day . . . ah, purely for pondering purposes. no need to look so scandalized.”

- ̗̀ diluc ̖́-

his respect isn’t easily earned, and his affections even less likely so – but you’ve won them all the same, and he intends to cherish you, so long as you’ll have him.

moments of genuinity are cursory with diluc: he’s too accustomed to dampening his vulnerability, and substitutes it instead with deadpan consideration. oftentimes, his attempts at romantics are only charming because of his obvious inexperience – but he still tries, archons bless him.

very traditional with his courting: will only kiss you once it’s evident that you’ve relaxed around him, and with your permission. initially, diluc is rather stiff, with only inklings of warmth behind his pecks. but over time, he finds a rhythm with you; he deduces fair quickly that you’re not concerned about where he kisses you, and that you’re more pleased by the how.

“you never cease to teach me new things . . . was that not to your liking? we should try again, with something different. huh, that sounded ’lewd’? who do you take me for – ”

antics aside, the heat behind his kisses evolves: diluc learns how to let go of his rigid composure and melt into you, abdicating the guard that he’s so carefully built around himself. fingers fluttering around your jaw, cradling your face in his calloused palms as his thumbs brush over your cheeks. piece by piece giving up his turmoil and pushing aside the burden on his shoulders – just for you, just for now.

- ̗̀ kaeya ̖́-

if kaeya is a winter storm, then you’re the water he paralyzes; inescapable, brazen, and even sometimes underhanded, his trek is as stunning as it is all-consuming. no matter what you do, he always seems to know two steps beforehand, and if you hadn’t known better, you would’ve assumed that he could read minds.

but no, he can’t – he’s just unbelievably proficient at reading you, the homey porch to his midnight snow, and his precious, frost-nipped calla lily. he can elicit a reaction from you with just a few words, and on occasion, with the help of a few gestures as well.

from the top of your head to the tips of your fingers, his lips are an instrument of war, and the claim to victory is the spark in your eyes. whatever prompts a smile on your face, even if you giggle yourself off the couch at his foolery, he’d be more than willing to undertake.

“haha, you always put up a brave front. relax now; let me take over. you’ve worked hard, and my lily should enjoy themselves after a long day.”

whether it be in the favonius library, through the forests of windrise, or the ruins of starfell valley, kaeya will find any reason he can to pamper you with his kisses. the occasion doesn’t matter, only the presentation and the joy you receive – he’s quite the tease, coy and knowing when he can tug on that string around your heart a little more, before willingly falling victim into your sincerities.

- ̗̀ venti ̖́-

whimsical and mercurial in agenda, barbatos is never one to stay in place for long. it’s not that he’s innately restless, only that he has the calling to something other: to explore, trifle, and experience.

“it’s been such a long time since i’ve had a lasting companion . . . gah, nevermind my own thoughts! this is a time to celebrate, preferably at a nearby tavern, where there’ll be plenty of song and dance to go around . . . among other things.”

the pecks he gives you are few and far between – unlike his presented spirit, his vulnerability has been locked away long ago. hundreds of years of witnessing, drifting, and existing, don’t exactly bode well with the soul. he might poke fun at the flush in your cheeks, or rag good-naturedly on your unorthodox thoughts, but this is how he’s always carried himself, and the wind never reveals its secrets upfront.

at the base of the great tree in windrise is where you first kissed. just as an autumn gust nips at one’s skin, venti’s pecks are primarily experimental and secondarily chaste. attachment isn’t something that comes easily to him, despite his ostentatious presentations, and the part of him that’s uncertain of the future conveys itself when his lips meet your skin.

but he will keep his perseverance for you. lips at the shell of your ear when you lean on him, his midnight lullabies cherishing your presence, lulling you to bright days ahead, alongside him.

#genshin impact x reader #albedo x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #venti x reader #albedo headcanons #diluc headcanons #kaeya headcanons #venti headcanons #albedo scenarios #diluc scenarios #kaeya scenarios #venti scenarios #liyue boys up next lads

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theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 3 years

Note

You said in another post you don’t believe the Knights of Walpurgis (aka Death Eaters 1.0) were all that plausible. Why is that?

Oof, this is a larger ask than I think you intend that gets into a lot of controversial things. Though, I suppose that’s what this blog has become.

Remember when I just talked about my weird fanfiction? Remember those days? I remember those days.

I guess to start out we need to go at a high level and acknowledge a few things.

For all we know about Tom Riddle’s life we know very little that came from himself. Most of what we know came to us via The Halfblood Prince, in Dumbledore’s lessons to Harry.

Think what you will about Dumbledore, benign or evil, but we can all acknowledge that the man had a clear goal and agenda in Halfblood Prince. Dumbledore was facing his imminent death, suddenly he no longer was looking at years but a few months to accomplish everything he needed to. He knows Harry is a horcrux, knows he himself no longer has time to hunt down Tom’s horcruxes himself, and instead must leave all his work to Severus and, partly, to Harry Potter.

Specifically, he has to groom Harry for suicide.

By the time Severus relays the truth to Harry (never mind that this very nearly didn’t happen in canon and what would Dumbledore do then) Harry must be prepared to sacrifice his own life to stop Voldemort. That, or Severus will have to murder the shit out of him, and that was probably plan B but Dumbledore would prefer it if Harry went along willingly so that the whole thing’s a little less shady. Dumbledore’s not murdering children if the children murder themselves!

This means, in part, convincing Harry that Voldemort is such a monstrous evil that his presence on this earth cannot be tolerated. Voldemort cannot be allowed to survive, even if Harry’s death does not guarantee Voldemort’s destruction, Harry must do it because Voldemort is that bad. There must be no hope, no recourse, and the only action Harry can take is martyrdom.

And so, that is essentially what Dumbledore does.

He gives Harry a series of lessons, hand selecting memories of Tom Riddle’s past (often shockingly innocuous), and then narrates them to tell Harry exactly why Tom Riddle is so evil today. The flimsy excuse of Harry wheedling information out of Slughorn is nice, but not necessary, as Dumbledore has no reason to believe this memory contains information he himself doesn’t already know (indeed, that Tom actually did make six horcruxes as he told Slughorn is a very strange coincidence as we rarely end up doing what we thought or being where we thought we would when we were sixteen).

Per Dumbledore, Tom Riddle was born evil by his very conception, is doomed to be a lowly miserable creature, and that murdering him is effectively putting him out of his misery.

Right, how does this relate to this post?

Well, neverminding what JKR says outside of canon, we learn about the Knights of Walpurgis/Tom’s schoolboy syncophants from Dumbledore. Per Dumbledore, Tom Riddle, while a highly respected and charming student was Evil McEvil who had junior cultists galore. So, you see Harry, the man must die (ergo you must kill yourself).

However, this is frankly ridiculous and not in any way believable.

First, the Hogwarts era when Tom’s in school.

Personally, I believe Tom was regarded 100% as muggleborn. Tom went into Hogwarts with the last name Riddle coming from the muggle world. When he gets sorted into Slytherin he can point to know family members at all (and even if he could would, at best, be considered a low class halfblood). Tom doesn’t know the significance of parseltongue and likely tells no one (I’ll get into this in a few paragraphs). Tom may insist that he could be a halfblood, he knows nothing of his father, but given his origins he himself probably believes he’s muggleborn until he stumbles across the hereditary nature of parseltongue.

Regardless, Tom is impoverished, comes from lower class muggle London, has the last name Riddle, no relatives to vouch for him, and you want me to think that the purebloods sign up to be his cult members?

Even though Tom is terrifyingly talented and brilliant, he will be fighting for respect every inch of the way. At best, I see the Slytherin’s tolerating his presence. Riddle’s tolerable, for a muggleborn, it’s a shame that he has such dirty blood but they’ll admit he’s a talented sort.

However, as soon as he’s out of Hogwarts they’ll drop him like it’s hot.

This is evidenced by a few things. Upon graduation, Tom Riddle struggles to secure employment. He tries for the Defense position but is unvested and a recent graduate, and so is rejected (and when he later tries again Dumbledore laughs in his place and says, “Bitch please, I will never hire you, I just accepted your application so I could spend this interview laughing in your face!”) He does not enter the ministry, which would likely have been far more beneficial to getting him a leg up in society.

No, Tom instead secures employment as a clerk and purchaser at Borgin and Burke’s the wizarding world’s shadiest pawn shop equivalent where he spends his time miserably wooing older women so they’ll sell him their fine goods. Dumbledore tries to convince us this was Tom’s plan, that he somehow knew about the locket beforehand, but this is bullshit. How the hell would Tom know that the heirloom undoubtedly locked away under safe and key had been sold to Borgin and Burkes? And even if he did, why would Tom take up this miserable position doing nothing he wanted to do?

Whatever minions Tom is supposed to have, whatever friends, they dropped him completely, pretended they never knew him, and did nothing to secure Tom’s future.

Now, back to the parseltongue bit since I made a promise. I believe Tom told no one. Had Tom told the Slytherins he was the Heir of Slytherin, this would have spread like wild fire not only across the house but the school. All the staff would remember Tom as Tom Slytherin, Tom would likely have changed his name, and frankly Tom probably would have been able to get into the ministry with a name like that. Tom Riddle’s life would have looked very different.

More, had the Chamber of Secrets episode happened in a world where Tom proves his heritage, he would have immediately been caught. Someone in Slytherin, even if only a few dormmates knew, would have narked on him. Someone would have been jealous, scared, etc. and would have turned him easily over to the authorities. A secret like that simply cannot be kept, it would spread, and there would be no needing to frame Hagrid and none of Tom getting off.

More, I always got the feeling very few knew that Voldemort had once been Tom Riddle. First, it would make recruiting very difficult. Voldemort is the mysterious, beautiful, heir of Slytherin who has come back from abroad to save their country. Tom Riddle is a dirt poor mudblood who comes from decades of incest and squalor.

Given the wizarding world at large does not know who Tom Riddle is (proved by The Chamber of Secrets) I would suspect the vast majority of Death Eaters and Order members didn’t either. Dumbledore was the one who pieced it together thanks, in part, to a ten-year-old Tom Riddle confessing his parseltongue abilities.

If Tom Riddle had told most people he was a parseltongue, far more would have made the connection, it would be common knowledge. Which means, of course, Tom Riddle has no ability to prove his heritage and is thus muggleborn swine.

More, I think Tom wouldn’t want Tom Riddle to be associated with Voldemort. When he becomes Voldemort, he will transcend his lackluster origins and become far more than an ordinary, mortal, man. He will leave the name Riddle behind and no one will remember that boy. He will eclipse his past.

Not to mention, that if Tom gave them the excuse of his heritage, it means giving himself the easy way out in Hogwarts. They won’t be forced to acknowledge him, acknowledge that he’s better than them despite his roots, but instead given the easy excuse of “oh, it’s because he’s the heir of Slytherin, duh”. And I think Tom would loathe the idea of that.

Tom wanting to eradicate the memory of Tom Riddle is especially why I think Voldemort came out of nowhere in the 70′s.

Tom doesn’t want to be recognized as Tom, he wants to be mysterious and originless, to give the purebloods everything they want to believe in. If it’s people he went to school with, they’ll recognize him, he’ll be just an ordinary mortal to them. If it’s their young, stupid, children well then he has a real chance.

Voldemort is a figure of myth, something that appears to come out of legend itself, the savior of his country.

He cannot have origin let alone Tom Riddle’s.

Not to mention the idea that multiple people waited on Tom Riddle for generations, even for decades where we know he went abroad and travelled the world, is utterly ridiculous. Why would they ever do this? What do they even gain from this? And why would it take so long to take over this ridiculously incompetent country THAT ALL OF TOM’S RECRUITS ARE PRACTICALLY SET TO CONTROL (the beauty of the Death Eaters is that they form a good chunk of the Wizengamot, and in using them, Tom Riddle effectively destroys the country from the inside out, which I believe was his true goal the entire time).

If Tom Riddle is so terrible, so horrifyingly competent, then it can’t have taken him fifty years of constant work to topple the country.

So, yeah, there were no Death Eaters 1.0.

#ask #anon #tom riddle #voldemort #the death eaters #the knights of walpurgis

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caliburn-the-sword · 9 months

Text

winter thoughts up to chapter 14

frankly. not enough scarlet. but i only had the time to read a handful of chapters

iko is so dramatic and i love her. ik she's meant to be the fairy godmother figure, but honest to god with how much she wants to be human and imitates humans (like pretending to faint cause of kai) she honestly seems like a pinocchio type character here too

now that i'm playing association games of aligning characters with other characters, i realised that cinder is technically the huntsman from little red riding hood since she saved scarlet from getting eaten by wolf. since there is a huntsman in snow white as well, that makes me wonder if she might therefore play a similar role in winter's story. that would be very interesting

"I'm on your side," he said. "No matter what." this smells like foreshadowing that he will in fact NOT be on her side no matter what. through no fault of his own of course. levana brainwashing arc when???

LMAO WOLF KNOCKED HIM OUT COLD. favourite trope ever fr

completely agreed cinder. i love a man that's battered and bruised fr

NOOOO don't tell me that thorne is TRYING to make cress jealous. cringe. gross. i'm throwing up in my mouth in the middle of my studies of religion class

is it just me or is thorne flirting with kai?? that is frankly much more preferable since they're both adults to kaider or cresswell honestly

nevermind it's some weird alpha male bs they're trying to one up each other and make them feel insecure about their girls. so basically the whole percy/jason leader thing but w o r s e

why do i want to write an au where cinder grew up as princess selene and she and kai have an arranged marriage and enemies to lovers relationship. i need to stop coming up with fanfic ideas when i've got important exams coming up in 2 months. it's bad enough i even decided to binge this entire series in the first place LMAO (but also it's so worth it). i bet i could find hundreds of fics with this exact premise on ao3 so maybe i'll save myself the effort

yes kai pardon thorne for theft so that you can correctly try him for being a damn pedo

don't mind me immediately connecting the kai has stockholm syndrome joke to beauty and the beast and realising that between cinder and her glamour (the lunar glamour obviously being the beast part btw) then she and kai could also technically be beauty and the beast. forgive me it's the ouat instinct

thorne was SO real for pointing out that kai is a rich royal bastard. not to spread my republican agenda (reminder that i am aussie and when i say republican i mean fuck the brit monarchy not racist trump nonsense) but the eastern commonwealth should TOTALLY do away with kai and bring back democracy. that's why i disagree with the characters calling for his forced abdication because they're just gonna instate ANOTHER royal eventually instead of getting rid of that shit altogether. while we're at it, instead of retaking the throne cinder should DESTROY it and ALSO institute a democracy

damn didn't realise thorne was having sad boy hours about leaving his crew disbanding. me too because i HATE it when the found family breaks up

"most of them even call me Captain" iko and cress is only two people. i think thorne needs to go back to school and retake maths because that is NOT most

EWWWWWWWWWW JAIL FOR THORNE JAIL FOR A THOUSAND YEARS

winter is embroidering. i am emotional

help this jacinter scene was nice and super romantic until "There were times when she stood so close that he was amazed at his own ability to keep his hands to himself" WHAT???? rocking myself back and forth in my seat reminding myself figure of speech figure of speech figure of speech. YIKES

@eddisfargo @francforever @winterrhayle @winterpinetrees @shellyseashell

#the lunar chronicles #tlc #cinder linh #marissa meyer #carswell thorne #crescent moon darnel #tlc wolf #ze'ev kesley #emperor kai #winter hayle blackburn #jacin clay #tlc winter

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dancingwiththeplanets · 3 years

Text

An Angel Amongst Demons - chapter two

Boba Fett x fem!reader

chapter 1 / masterlist

Summary: A few days after the incident in the throne room, Boba hovers around you like a shadow worried you’ll leave him. You try to reassure him through small, intimate moments with him that there’s no place you’d rather be.

A/N: Really trying to expand on the idea that a gorgeous palace lays hidden underground/ behind the throne room! Also, I think we can all start calling this Boba’s Palace now, jabba is gone. Sorry for the low quality edit it’s my first one haha

Warnings: dancing!boba, protective!boba, suggestive content, plain old day at the palace, soft!boba, not a lot of content tbh but cute moments and we get to know our OC Mandos Raul and Enzo, I didn’t plan this out, im sorry

Word Count: 4.5k+

---------------------------------

The ballroom, though practically useless in its existence and never actually having served its purpose, has recently become one of your favorite rooms in the palace. Initially, you didn’t know what to do with the space. It’s not like Boba seized at the idea of throwing a ball and inviting a group of strangers into the palace, providing anyone the opportunity to discover the secrets hidden behind the throne room. Let alone risk letting an adversary sneak their way in and stirring up trouble.

Nonetheless, you’ve taken it upon yourself to spruce the place up. It is, after all, one of the grander rooms in the castle, with paintings coating the ceiling and the walls bordered with columns.

It’s actually extremely beautiful, you’ve decided, wiping your forehead against your light-blue sleeve, frowning when it comes back brown from the dust that’s stuck to your face. It seemed like a sensible thing to wear this morning. A loose fitting blue blouse with flowy pants to match, secured in the middle by a slightly darker sash. Your pant legs were tucked into your boots so as not to get in the way. It was one of the more cozy and plain things you owned, though not poor in quality by any standards. The fabric was refined, flowy and soft against your skin. Quite honestly, even in your working clothes, you looked nicer than you felt you deserved to. But far be it for Boba to allow his princess to wander around in anything but the best.

The week you’d moved in was a busy one, filled with surprises and adjustments that were quite honestly overwhelming. You arrived at Boba’s palace with a literal sack over your shoulder, enough to stash your small wardrobe of two garments and a few trinkets of personal value. Tatooine was a simple place, you only owned what you absolutely needed. And you, being a young and simple waitress at the local cantina, could barely make enough to cover your cost of living. You were never awarded the luxury of having needless objects.

The first few days of your arrival, Boba had stuck to your side like glue, making sure you got around okay and had everything you needed. Initially, he’d even had a seperate room made up for you to stay in. It was absolutely beautiful, by far the lightest room in the entire palace, though lacking in a window. It was one of the biggest, not as impressive as his own chambers, but still spacious. He decorated the room with paintings and furniture and accented the space with hues of blue and gold. Unfortunately, the pretty room barely got any good use out of it.

Boba escorted you to your quarters on your first night, cradling your chin and kissing your forehead at the door, bidding you goodnight. He reminded you where you could find something to sleep in, having delighted himself in surprising you with an entirely new wardrobe.

You pulled on a satin, lavender slip, admiring the foreign material for a long while as it weighed so delicately on your form. You took your time readying yourself for bed before crawling in and feeling engulfed by pillows. Once you settled, left alone to your anxious thoughts and feelings, you suddenly felt overwhelmed by the exquisite room embracing you. A flutter of giddiness and exhilaration filled you, your mind and body enraptured by the day's events. You felt absolutely spoiled.

Feeling bold on an entirely unnatural level, you slipped away from the warm, velvety comforter and tiptoed to the door. With a rush of courage, your hand met the handle and you stepped out, bare feet cold against the tile floor. You peeked around before quickly darting down the hall, forever grateful that not a soul was around to see your practically naked form running by, before ascending the stairs that led to Boba’s door.

You lifted your hand, your knuckle knocking gently three times against the rough surface.

You heard Boba shifting on the other side of the door, tugging down on your nightgown that just barely cleared your thighs. The hinges of the door creaked as they turned, opening slowly to reveal a very smug looking Boba in just his underclothes.

He hummed, eyes tracing over your form with a shake of his head. “Wandering the halls looking like that.” He chided, gently grabbing you by the waist and pulling you through the door, “That’ll get you into trouble, little one.”

-----------------------------

You smile as you recall the memory. Suffice to say, you didn’t end up sleeping in your own quarters that night, or any night after that, for that matter. Though Boba’s honorable gesture in providing you with your own space was not lost on you.

Continuing on with your endeavors, you move to stand from your crouch on the ground, simultaneously trying to tighten the blue sash wrapped around your middle. You gasp as you run into a hard surface, exhaling in relief as Boba braces you in front of him.

Mumbling an apology, you watch as his helmeted face looks you up and down, steady hands holding you out from him.

“What?” You ask, a smile making its way to your cheeks.

“Your outfit, it...looks like something I wore as I boy.” He says adoringly, now fondling the blue sash at your hips.

You glance down again at your form, a matching blue blouse and trousers tucked into simple black boots. “I...look like you as a young boy?” You counter, earning a deep chuckle from your lover.

“Well I looked rather plain in it,” He says, “I don’t think I looked half as radiant as you do.”

“So you do like it?” You ask.

“Of course I like it,” He grins, “I bought it.”

You shake your head as you carry on with your tasks, allowing Boba to shadow your movements for a while before leaving you again to carry on with his own agenda.

You spend the next few hours actively scrubbing away at the room, feeling especially motivated to complete it, not like all the other half-finished rooms scattered about the palace, which is partly your fault. But the ballroom felt different, once you dusted away all the grime and filth and replaced the lighting in the ceilings to give the room more life, it really started to come together. Unfortunately, your previously clean clothes and skin were paying the price for the hard work being done, you definitely looked a little worse for wear. Wisps of hair beginning to tickle your cheeks from where they’d fallen loose from your braid.

Currently, you were taking extra care to polish a beautiful mosaic decorating the inside of an archway. Thousands of small, colorful shards lined neatly together to form the image of a bold Tatooine sunset. One of the few grand beauties your home planet was known for. A surprisingly lovely work of art left behind, albeit not properly cared for, by the previous inhabitants of the palace.

You admire the artwork for a while after polishing it to near perfection, letting your bum fall to the floor and legs splay out comfortably in front of you. Your wrists support your upper body, arms holding you up as you lean back onto them, head tilting lazily to one side.

You find yourself distracted from your glossed over gaze by Boba, who seems to have wandered his way in here for the third time today. Enzo tails him a few paces behind, but stops to stand guard idly by the door. You can’t imagine he or Raul feel as though they serve any real purpose wandering these empty halls, probably much preferring when they get to patrol the throne room or secure the perimeter.

Boba approaches you, pausing over your fatigued form and huffing out a laugh when you don’t move to stand, instead opting to gaze up at him with tired, doe eyes. He holds a hand out to you and you groan, placing your palm in his as he hoists you up.

“The room looks lovely.” He says, voice raspy through the modulator as he looks around.

The praise makes you smile. “Come see what I found,” You say, leading him by the hand. You open a large dresser to the right, stuffed full of old vinyls and a polished record player sitting proudly atop. You carefully choose a record, placing it beneath the needle and starting the track, allowing it to play soothingly in the background as you guide him around the rest of the room.

He follows you around, listening to you babble about the lovely art on the ceiling and how nice the light looks coming through the one, boxy window at the top. He watches the childlike sparkle and admiration in your eyes as you point out different things you’ve noticed, the excitement trickling out in your tone.

His mind contemplates how different this life is from the one you used to have. You went from a one room, compact home, just barely big enough for your small bed, to a palace filled with grand staircases, hallways and countless bedrooms, a blissful dream in your eyes. Nevermind the fact that you were still stuck on Tatooine. In fact, you seemed happy to stay, oddly attached to the sandy planet, something Boba found amusing.

A couple trips around the room later, and a few songs having gone by, the two of you now stand in the center of the empty room. Him, groaning in protest, and you, placing his hand on your waist yet again. You’ve spent the last few minutes trying to teach him a basic waltz, something your father had taught you when you were little. A rare memory you shared with him before he...well-

“Boba,” You scold with a giggle, “Try again.” Your request earns you another frustrated grumble from your partner. At some point you were able to coerce him into dancing with you, having pleaded desperately when your favorite classic came on. “C’mon, you nearly had it that time!”

He sighs loudly, tilting his helmet in an exasperated fashion. “Last time,” He says with finality, his finger raised in your direction.

You nod your head, an amused grin spread wide on your face.

He holds tight to your waist and reaches for your other hand, a final effort to humor you.

“And...1, 2, 3...1, 2, 3..” You begin moving again to the music, trying to swallow the snicker working its way up at the image of your armored partner staring at your feet for guidance. Visor following your every move, looking unsure and sloppy and quite honestly graceless.

You jump at the voice of a forgotten presence in the room.

“No! No, no, no, boss.” Enzo finally pipes up, his silent and judgemental self unable to be contained any longer. He moves forward with a swagger in his step as he struts towards you from his previous position against the wall, “You’ve gotta lead her by the waist,” He says pointedly, reaching for you “Observe-”

Boba’s arm shoots out, blocking Enzo by the pauldron, “You touch her, you're a dead man.” He growls, deflecting his attempt to take you by the waist.

You jerk slightly at the interaction, rolling your eyes and waiting for the show of dominance to subside.

Enzo’s hands raise in surrender, bowing away respectfully before returning to his earlier stance, no doubt a grin slapped on beneath his visor.

Boba’s hand returns to your waist with a shake of his head, noting your half-suppressed chuckle, evidently amused by the encounter.

“Alright,” He grunts, “once more.”

You start counting aloud, moving at a pace Boba can keep up with. You step out on the final eight count and slowly twirl back into his arms, your back now braced against his front. He tugs at your hips, holding you closer, “Mm,” He hums in your ear as you sway in your position, “Well I do like this.”

The sound of his accented voice filtering through the modulator sends a shiver down your spine, and you breathe out a light exhale as he releases you a moment later, turning you to face him.

“See,” You sigh, “You can dance.”

He hums in response, turning around to retrieve his weapon.

You move to face your hired gun, again leaning casually against the entryway.

“Do you actually know how to dance, Enzo?” You ask, reflecting on his earlier attempt at an intervention.

“-Wouldn’t matter if he did.” Boba interjects loudly over his shoulder, dismissing any ideas before they transpired.

You hear a light chuckle emitting through Enzo’s modulator, turning back to see his stance remaining motionless aside from the slight jerk in his shoulders.

Boba returns to your side, tapping his forehead against yours in an obvious farewell.

Your head falls heavily to one side as you tenderly hold one of his gloved hands, fingers tracing the rough fabric of his own. “Is that all the time you’ve allotted for me today, my king?” You say, a teasing smile pulling at your lips.

“Duty calls, I’m afraid.” He replies, “But perhaps I’ll come find you in a bit, see what further progress you’ve made.”

You nod, a slight frown tugging on your lips. You hesitate raising the concern suddenly weighing in your mind.

Ever since the incident with Crane occurred, Boba’s been...watchful. It’s not that he wasn’t protective of you before, it’s just that in the past few days he’s been protective of you in an entirely different way. He’s been hovering and checking in on you almost compulsively. Whereas before he seemed to want to keep you away during the busy hours of his day, now he seemed to want you near enough to reach in a moment's notice. Almost as if he’s worried you’ll abandon him when he’s not looking.

You wonder how he can still feel so worried after sharing such a fun and intimate moment with you.

So, you’ve given him some extra leeway, allowing him to hover to his heart's content until he seems secure in knowing that you’re not going anywhere.

That being said, you really didn’t mind Boba’s loitering close by to wherever you happened to be, you only wish you knew he wasn’t doing it because of the events that conspired earlier in the week.

“Boba,” You say lightly, catching his arm as he turns. “You don’t need to keep checking up on me, I’m not...you know I’m not going anywhere, right?”

He pauses at your words, hands stilling in their endeavor to tighten up loosened pieces of clothing and armor. You hope you haven't upset him in calling out his unusual conduct.

He averts his gaze to the side, pausing a moment before turning back to you. “I know.” He says nodding, a slight hint of defeat in his tone.

You hope perhaps some flattery will comfort him, stepping closer and lifting your gaze to meet his own. “My king,” you say in admiration, “You are a very busy man. You have a planet to rule. And an underworld to dominate. There are many things that I know put strain and worry in your mind, but whether or not your partner will still be here when you go looking for her should not be one of them.”

He doesn’t make any movements, and the face of his visor does little to allow you access to his thoughts.

“What I mean to say is,” You continue, “Go rule your empire. Your princess is safely stashed away in the palace you’ve encompassed her in.”

He breathes out a chuckle, and you smile, “I am happier here with you than I ever thought I’d be. I don’t want to be anywhere you won't be too, Boba Fett.” You reiterate your words from your conversation a few days ago. One that both started and ended with the two of you in tears. A rare moment between the two of you indeed. An exceedingly painful incident for him, having showcased the true depth of his love for you in such an unexpected and vulnerable way. And for you, to have seen the strongest and most fearless man you have ever known brought down to his knees, in tears, was absolutely gut-wrenching, especially in knowing that his own insecurities about your love had driven him to feel such fear.

You squeeze his arm and kiss the cheek of his helmet in valediction. His unmoving visor lingering on your face for an extended moment.

Boba’s hand makes its way to the back of your head, pulling you forward slightly before gently meeting you in the middle with his own helmet. Your foreheads pressed together in an intimate and tender kiss.

He pulls away silently, giving you a nod, a gesture you return with a small smile before watching him exit the room, Enzo in tow.

---------------------------------

You make your way to the kitchens, stomach growling unhappily at having been neglected all afternoon.

You pause under the doorway.

“I’ve seen you far too much today,” You sigh, feigning exasperation at the sight of Enzo shifting through the pantry for a meal to take to his room.

He stops his digging, turning to face you standing under the doorway before spinning back around.

“Vod’ika,” He greets, “Soup?” He holds a can up over his shoulder while reaching for a pot below the stove.

“No, thanks.” You say, approaching his station.

You pick up the canister of tomato soup, looking it over. “I doubt this tiny thing is even enough for just you.”

He glances down at the can in your hand. “I’ll do two then.”

You roll your eyes, what is it with these massive Mandalorians and not understanding proper nourishment?

“No, no.” You chide, “At least attempt to incorporate a healthy balance into your diet. Something with protein, maybe? Make a grilled porg-and-cheese melt to go with the soup. You can dip it in the broth, it’s delicious.”

His teal visor meets your face, shifting in uncertainty. “Can you do it?”

You sigh, “Fine.”

You get out the sandwich makings, opting to make one for yourself as well. You smear the bantha butter along four pieces of bread and grill them on a pan, layering sliced porg and cheese slices afterward.

You hear footsteps approaching the kitchen just as you’re pulling the finished sandwiches off the stove.

“Raul!” You greet with a smile, Enzo’s head whips in your direction. “We’re making sandwiches, want one?”

“You never sound that excited to see me.” Enzo declares.

You giggle at the accusation, sliding his sandwich onto a plate and handing it to him.

“Can I make you one, Raul?” You repeat.

He sighs, “No kid, thank you.” He steps forward and pulls Enzo’s plate from his hands, placing it away from him on the counter.

“Aye!” Enzo protests, wanting to transport his hot meal to his room so he could eat.

“We work for her,” Raul says, articulating the ‘we’ with an exaggerated hand gesture between the two of them. “You should be making her sandwich, not the other way around.”

“Oh, don’t be silly.” You groan, looking between the pair of Mandalorians.

“Yeah, Raul,” Enzo mocks, a slightly more threatening air to his tone. He retrieves the stolen soup and sandwich, “Don’t be a di’kut.”

Raul’s helmet tilts slightly at Enzo’s words. Not knowing exactly what the word means, but starting to get an unsettling feeling in your stomach, you attempt to intervene, “Guys-”

Just a moment too late.

Raul clamps a hand on Enzo’s arm, jolting him back from trying to pass him. His hand smacks the plate out of Enzo’s hand, the glass shattering before it even reaches the floor, and the soup and sandwich splattering everywhere.

“I made that-” You frown.

Now with two free hands, Enzo grips Raul’s shoulders and shoves him back against the brick ovens, a rough grunt escaping Raul when his helmet meets the open face of a hanging pan.

“Please stop-” You yelp, wincing as Enzo’s fist uppercuts into the weak spot under Raul’s helmet.

For being half a head shorter and not as obviously built as his opponent, the Mandalorian in black and teal armor could sure hold his own.

Raul spits something out in mando’a, his words seething as he grabs onto the cuff of the smaller Mandalorians neck covering and throws him with little exertion to the floor. You hear the crunching of glass beneath Raul’s boots as he growls with a foot on pressing to Enzo’s chest in an effort to force him into submission.

“-I wish you guys wouldn’t always do this.” You sigh, not bothering to shout anymore over the sound of beskar scraping against beskar.

You slide from your seat, taking your sandwich with you as you circle around the room to avoid becoming collateral damage in the red Mandalorian’s show of dominance.

“I have never witnessed two people fight over something so stupid in my life!” You call out behind you, tearing a piece of your sandwich off and popping it into your mouth. Leaving the sound of metal crashing against stone behind you.

---------------------------------

You sigh when you finally reach your room, ascending the steps inside your chambers to reach the bedroom. You’re about to sit down on the bed when you catch sight of your reflection, covered in dust patches and knee stains from when you scrubbed against the floor. You opt to take a quick shower instead, washing out all the grime gathered in your hair and skin.

It takes a couple minutes of harsh scrubbing for the water to stop running off your body brown. You take extra care to wash behind your ears and around your hairline, where dirt likes to plant itself firmly.

You turn the water off when the last few soap suds slide off your hair, wrapping yourself in a warm towel.

Taking a glance out the window, you note that the suns are already setting low on the horizon, and resign yourself to just staying in for the rest of the night.

You pull on a slip dress and wrap yourself in Boba’s robe, inhaling his comforting, musky scent. You reach for your book on the nightstand before lighting a couple of candles around the space, creating a warm and cozy environment.

Satisfied with the aesthetic you set around you, you plop down on your bed and hope to get a few chapters into your novel before Boba gets home. Admittedly getting distracted a couple times by the stunning, shaded view out your window, exposing you to the last few moments of the captivating sunset.

Boba comes home a little over an hour later, the glow in your chambers now reduced to only a few lamps and the candlelight spread about your room, but enough to alert Boba of your presence.

You hear his heavy armored footsteps trudging up towards the bedroom. You turn your head expectantly when he reaches the top. Helmet in hand, he pauses for a moment upon seeing you, admiring the image of your figure wrapped up in his robe and curled up with a book, before stepping forward and greeting you with a kiss.

He pulls back, gaze immediately flickering to the window, probably having noticed it immediately upon entering the room but choosing to greet you before acknowledging it.

You groan internally, knowing what's coming.

“Mesh’la,” He hums, frowning at the open curtains exposing you to the darkness of the Tatooine night. A few dim lights from Mos Eisley shining in the distance. He steps forward to slide the curtains closed, you don’t complain, only having wanted them open for sunset. ��What have I told you, little one? It's not safe to have these open.”

“I only just opened them, Boba.” You fib a little, hoping to reassure him.

He nods, unconvinced, before beginning to strip himself of his armor. You observe him unlatch the beskar piece-by-piece, placing the armor neatly in its designated chest.

He groans loudly when he sinks down beside you, arms raising behind his head.

You giggle at his tired show of soreness, eyes still glued to the pages of your book. “Old man,” You mutter.

“Watch it.” He growls lowly. You glance a peek at him, eyes closed heavily against his cheeks.

You ponder your bravery for a moment, sticking your nose back in your book before impulsively whispering, “Relic.” You shriek, bursting into a fit of laughter as he suddenly reaches over and wrestles the book out of your hands, using it to plant a harsh smack on your behind.

“Boba Fett!” You squeal, hands moving to shield your bum as the vibrations from his deep laugh shake the bed.

Still holding the book up in a threatening manner, a childlike gleam in his eyes, he challenges you, “Apologize.”

You consider tossing another remark out, eyes darting to the book in his hand, before deciding against it tonight.

Instead, you hoist yourself up onto your knees, allowing his robe to slowly slide down your form and meet the duvet, revealing the thin slip below. His closed-lip smile increases a little, eyes tracing down your form, book lowering slightly in the space above where he lay.

You crawl forward until your chest hovers above him, noses nearly touching, “My apologies, my king.” You whisper, pressing a kiss to his lips.

He deepens the kiss with a groan, your hand reaching back to grip your novel, which he allows you to slip from his fingers.

You let him attack you lips for another moment before you pull away. Having gotten what you wanted, you shift back to your side of the bed, turning to the page you left off at.

A deep chuckle rumbles out from Boba’s chest. “Alright, little one.” He says, “I'll let you play your game.”

He turns the light out on his side of the bed, pulling the blankets out and over the two of you before moving to embrace your form, leaning close to whisper in your ear, “-this time.”

A shiver runs down your spine and you try to resist the smile tugging at your lips, though you feel his own brushing against your ear in satisfaction.

“Tomorrow,” He says, shifting a little above you, “I’m heading into Mos Eisley with Fennec.

“What for?” You ask, finally marking your page and setting it aside.

“Nothing,” He grumbles, “I need to put on a little show of...authority, for a few people.”

You hum, “No big deal?” You question.

“Just a local inconvenience.” He gripes.

You nod slightly, not requiring any elaboration. You suppose you’ll have to entertain yourself tomorrow. “Well then, maybe I’ll have Raul teach me how to wield a dagger,” You quip, a grin back on your face.

Boba huffs out an amused puff of air, “I’d much prefer you with a blaster.” He says, apparently taking the idea seriously, “You don’t need to be up close to use it.”

“We’ll see then,” You say, standing to turn out the rest of the lights.

A single lit candle from your bedside table casts a warm glow over Boba’s face, eyes closed and head still leaning back against your bed-frame pillow.

“Get back on your side,” You chuckle, nudging him as you crawl back into your space.

“M’fine here.” He mumbles, leaning further over onto your pillow.

You smile, his body encasing yours and his nose presses into your neck.

“I’ll be fine here too you know.” You mutter, referencing the day you’ll be spending without his guard.

“You finally gonna stop worrying about me?” You tease, having received no response.

He shakes his head, snuggling deeper into your neck, “Never.”

---------------------------------

A/N pt.2: So I wrote this and I thought it was great then I read it back a few times and realized literally nothing happened haha im so sorry 😅😅😅

Literally spent too many hours on this not to upload though so I suppose here’s a filler chapter my bad lots of love 🥰

#an angel amongst demons #Boba Fett #boba x reader #boba x you #the mandalorian #book of boba fett #din djarin #mando #boba!palace #soft!boba #king!boba #boba fett x reader #boba's palace

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aloraundomiel · 3 years

Text

I’ve decided to combine @rubinecorvus Wartober 2021 and @raincoffeeandfandoms Kisstober 2021 prompt challenges for double the fun and double the headache. :3

Day 3 - Vessel + Morning Kisses

Dick can tell what kind of day it’s going to be by the mug Nix chooses upon waking.

He shuffles into the kitchen, already running late and nearly nude, if not as naked as the day he was born. Occasionally there will be socks. His hair will be unkempt and sticking up in every direction, inexplicable if Dick has tugged on it through their sex the night before. Eyes closed as he’s drawn to the coffee pot like a moth to the flame, skirting the kitchen table and counter edges from memory.

Dick shakes back his sleeve, mouth tightening in a minute down turn as his watch ticks on insistently.

Nix scrubs a hand through his heavy stubble, peers over to where Dick’s standing in his mild irritation.

“You’ve missed the first train,” he slurs.

Dick tugs his sleeve back down, crosses the three strides it takes to get from the cramped apartment kitchen to the door and plucks his coat from the hook.

“I can make the second if I leave in the next couple of minutes. The benefits of cheap housing, being so close to the station. Are you coming?”

Nix barks a laugh and it’s no indicator whether he’s scoffing at the suggestion he could possibly be ready in minutes or at the notion of showing up for work at all. The possibility of either happening is slim to none and mentally Dick already starts to run down the list of tasks he’ll have to add to his own agenda today to ensure Nixon Nitration’s administrative offices continue to run smoothly without their employer. Not that any of the staff will be shocked by the boss not showing up at the office. The times they actually see Stanhope Nixon’s son per month can be counted on both hands. But Dick’s job is enough work on it’s own. Not particularly challenging, but he would like to stamp it with his own brand of efficiency and work ethic without constantly having to cover for Nix going AWOL.

Dick watches from beneath his lashes, stalking Nix’s movement to the cabinet where the coffee mugs are kept.

“Coffee first,” grumbles Nix, fumbling through the collection of ceramic vessels with a series of soft clanks and clings.

Dick waits, holding his breath. Though there’s a dozen different cups within reach, there will be three that dictate Nix’s current mood and mental state. If he chooses the white, unassuming diner mug, lacking any kind of decoration or detail, a full night’s sleep was had and the day will consist of the usual amount of humorous cynicism. If he goes for the slightly larger jadeite mug with the chip in the handle, the day will only be peppered lightly with bouts of irritability and spells of hopelessness and ennui, and some level of productivity and socialization will be maintained. If he reaches for the hand-thrown extra large stoneware mug with Adirondack pines circumventing it’s convex sides...Dick hopes he doesn’t reach for that mug.

“You sleep all right?” Dick prompts, hoping to get some insight into foretelling the selection before it happens.

Nix cuts a sleepy side-eyed glance at him across the counter, flashes that smirk that even in his bedraggled, rugged state makes Dick’s heart do a tiny wet flip-flop.

“Well not for the present company’s lack of trying.” He lifts a brow and drops his gaze lewdly down Dick’s front, rests it suggestively at the crotch of his khakis.

To hide the flush he feels spreading from the apple of his cheeks, Dick clears his throat and leans over to snatch his hat off the coat rack.

“Wasn’t my intention to keep you up all night-”

“Some parts of me, it was,” Nix drawls.

Dick continues with a grimace. “I just thought,” he insists, “it might be nice to spend some time together. Things have gotten busy at the office lately, and well.”

He trails off, chewing at the inside of his lip. It does seem silly now. Inviting Nix over to spend the night because he’d missed the feel of his skin against his own, missed the timbre of his unguarded laugh. Reckless even. Although the apartment building is the right amount of cordial and distant, he’s still got neighbors. And even the most loyal neighbors can talk. It’s ridiculous. Risking what he has with Nix on a single night’s basest pleasure. He’d told himself once they were back home, he’d figure something out. A way to love him without the secrecy and sneaking around, a way to care for Nix as he deserved to be cared for - without regret. Dick swore to be the first. The first to adore Lewis Nixon and not treat him as a burden to be endured. As a mistake to be suffered.

“Nevermind,” he says, rather glumly. “I’m glad you got some rest.”

Nix leans back to peer around the cabinet door, picking up on the change in his tone. His face softens, eyes opening fully for the first time since entering the kitchen and he abandons his quest for coffee to step around the counter’s edge. He reaches for Dick, runs a cautious hand down his arm.

“Hey, Dick, hey.” His eyes are the perfect compliment to a fine cup of coffee. Dick’s always been drawn to the color of Nix’s eyes.

“It was great,” Nix tells him, sliding his hand up to cup the back of Dick’s neck, gives it a squeeze. “Extraordinary. Transcendent. It always is. But I don’t always need you to fuck me through the mattress to enjoy spending time with you. You could let me take you to dinner.”

Dick can feel the crude words push his flush out to the roots of his hair. “Dinner?”

Nix leans in, eyes flicking between Dick’s and his mouth and back. “Yeah. You know. Dinner. And a movie. And maybe a little necking in the car in the back of the parking lot.”

His grin is annoyingly contagious and Dick stops fighting the magnetic pull, let’s himself be drawn into Nix’s gravity. “Like a date?” he murmurs.

“Yeah. A real date. I’ll pick you up, bring you flowers, spring for dessert, the whole shebang.”

Dick tilts his head, inviting Nix closer, draws his other arm up to cage Dick fully against the door.

“Careful,” he whispers, a hair’s breath away from Nix’s lips. “A man might think you’re sweet on him with all that.”

Nix’s coffee colored eyes twinkle, wide awake. “Good.”

He surges up to capture Dick’s mouth, kissing whatever smart reply he had building on his tongue away. Dick moans, buries his hands in Nix’s wild hair and kisses him back, licks at the seam of his mouth until he opens and allows Dick entrance. He tastes sleep-sour and there’s an echo of last night’s whiskey and that bitter, smoky afterburn that is all Nix and Dick laps it up greedily. All night he’s chased this taste, desperate for it, accenting it with the salt of Nix’s sweat and the sound of Dick’s name from his throat. And he still wants more.

Is this what Nix feels every time he reaches for his flask? Is this what addiction is?

He kisses Nix until his cheeks burn from the rasp of his stubble. He kisses Nix until his lips feel swollen and his heart full to the brim. Kisses him until he’s satisfied he can wait until it’s time to punch out from work and find Nix again to refill his need of Nix’s lips against his.

When Nix draws back, his breathing is just a tad uneven, his pupils a tad too large. Dick smirks, pleased he’s not the only addict between them.

“So,” Nix says, trying and failing to cover his breathlessness. “You name the day. And I’ll come steal you away for a whirlwind courtship. What do you say?”

Dick runs a thumb over Nix’s bottom lip, watches the way it catches in the tacky saliva still clinging to the swell. “I accept.”

Nix grins, catching the pad of his thumb and giving it a swirl with his clever, devious tongue. He releases it with an audible pop and pushes off the door, leaving Dick choking on a rather indignant whimper in his wake.

“You better run,” he advises. “You’ve got sixty seconds if you’re making your train.”

Snapping out of his spell, Dick tsks and glances at his watch again. He bends at the waist to retrieve his poor hat that got abandoned to the floor with all the smooching.

“Are you coming in today or not? I need to tell Janet or she won’t stop hounding me about it.”

Nix, already back at the coffee pot, lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “Who can say?” he says airily, reaching into the cabinet. “I’ve got a big date to plan for, might need to take the day off and prepare.”

He lowers his hand and in it is clutched the plain white diner mug.

Dick beams.

“Fine,” he chuckles, already half out the door before Nix can finish filling his coffee. “See you later. Or not.”

There’s the sound of a sloppy, particularly wet coffee kiss being blown at his back as the door shuts and Dick finds himself grinning all the way to the train station.

It’s going to be a great day.

#winnix #dick winters #lewis nixon #band of brothers #fanfic #fanfic prompt #kisstober 2021 #wartober 2021

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