#the mustache

[marvelfilth]

The mustache

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Natasha crashes your date

Masterlist

You let a fake laugh bubble out of your mouth for what feels like a hundredth time this evening. Your date looks smug, her eyes trailing over your form, almost leering. She takes a sip of her wine and licks her lips slowly, daring you to look.

You don't.

You can almost hear Natasha say I told you so.

You clear your throat and take another bite of a perfectly made steak - the only saving grace of this disastrous date.

You mentally cringe, closing your eyes briefly. Objectively, the date is going well - she showed up on time, held the door for you, helped you to your seat and made perfect small talk, occasionally throwing in a joke or two. You can excuse her wandering eyes, knowing you've been throwing mixed signals all evening.

You nod along to whatever story she's telling, smiling and chuckling when it's appropriate. You barely resist the urge to excuse yourself. You chew on your lower lip, wondering how you allowed yourself to get in such a mess.

Your phone chimes once, screen lightning up with a new notification.

Natasha.

Yep. Here's your answer.

You look at your date, hating how different her smile is from your best friends. It's too large, too open and not even half as genuine. Natasha's smiles are small, barely noticeable, but they're enough to make your breath come short.

You sigh. You need to stop comparing your every date to Natasha.

“Do you mind if I take a look? It might be important,” you ask, reaching for your phone. She nods happily, waving the waiter over for another glass of wine.

How bad is it?

You snort, coughing immediately to cover up the sound and reaching for your glass.

Another message appears right in front of your eyes.

That bad?

You choke on your wine, discreetly looking around, but coming up short.

Six o'clock, dumbass.

You wait a moment and look right behind you, mouth falling open when you finally see her.

She's sitting three tables down, wearing your favorite hoodie and a black cap. With sunglasses covering her eyes. In a dimly lit restaurant. What makes you let out a strangled laugh, though, is a perfect old fashioned mustache glued right under her nose. She twirls both ends around her fingers, curling them up, before lowering her glasses and sending you an exaggerated wink.

The best spy in the world, the woman who made entire governments collapse, is sitting right behind you, looking like a child playing dress up.

You whip around, your face red, and wave off your date's concerned look. “I'm alright.”

She nods, all too happy to continue talking about all of the famous people she's met through her job.

You hide your phone under the table and shoot your best friend a text.

You're ridiculous

Her reply comes instantly.

And yet you love me.

Her words hit a little too close to home.

You are hopelessly in love with your best friend.

Another message comes through.

What's wrong?

You frown, eyes darting around. You didn't even do anything to warrant the question.

And don't even try to lie. I can tell something's wrong.

You sigh, tell Natasha everything is fine, and place your phone face down on the table, your date still recounting a story of how she met some actress.

The next half an hour is tense. You can feel Natasha's eyes on you. You can hear her plotting a way to get you out of here, but you know you have to at least try to make it work, if not with… Connie? Courtney? Then with someone else, before you go completely mad.

Your phone rings. You can't stop yourself from picking it up.

“Sorry, it’s an emergency.” Your excuse sounds bad even to your own ears, and you wince when your date pointedly looks away with pursed lips.

“Do you want me to throw her out of the window?” She starts without a preamble. “If not, I have a knife in my boot and you know how good I am with knives.”

“Can't you handle it without me?” You ask, knowing Natasha will play along. Your date reaches for her purse, dejected. Guilt swirls in your chest, and you contemplate your next words. Maybe you should stay and-

“Don't feel bad, she's been looking at the blonde to your right since she came in,” Natasha drawls, “and no, I can't handle it without you. I need you back home.”

You blush, biting on your lower lip.

“I'm sorry, but there's been an-”

“Just go,” your date cuts you off, “I'll handle the bill.” Her eyes are on the blonde girl before she's done speaking, and you leave with your conscience clear.

Natasha catches up to you outside and leads you to her corvette - her sunglasses and cap are gone, but that ridiculous mustache is still in place.

“What do you think?” She asks as she opens the door for you before going around the car and taking a seat behind the wheel. “I like the look.”

You snort and shake your head, amused with your best friend's antics. “It's… something.”

She rolls her eyes, starting the engine. “I know you love it.”

You hum, relaxing against the soft leather, your worries stoved away by Natasha's calming presence.

“Why do you keep going on dates if you hate it so much?” She asks when you reach Compound gates.

You sigh, think of an answer that would get her off your back without making her suspicious.

“I just… I-” you stutter, wincing.

Great.

She raises an eyebrow, looking absolutely ridiculous, but so, so beautiful, it makes your entire chest ache.

The car comes to a stop, and Natasha focuses all of her attention on you.

“I need to get over someone.”

There, you've said it.

“Who?” She asks, and for the first time in all the years you've known her you can't read her at all.

“You don't know them.”

She looks ahead, her jaw clenched tight. “How long?”

You blink away the tears. “A few years.”

She looks down at her lap, her fingers tapping against her thigh. “Who?” She asks again.

“Natasha…”

“Is it Carol?” Her voice is tight, her eyes dart around the street.

“God no,” you chuckle, thinking about your blond friend. Valkyrie would kill you on the spot if you even looked at her the wrong way, not that you're interested anyway. They need to get over themselves and finally admit their feelings to each other. Anyone can see their pining from a mile away.

“Kate?”

You shake your head. “You don't know them.”

“Then tell me. What would it matter?”

“Nat, can we just-”

“Tell me.”

You groan, and turn to open the door, but Natasha’s hand landing on your thigh stops you. You swallow, freezing on the spot.

“Please.”

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for the inevitable. “It's you,” you whisper.

The hand on your thigh clumps tight. “What?”

“It's you,” you repeat, feeling braver after the admission. “Always you.”

She lets out a deep, shaky breath, before reaching for your face with her other hand. “Look at me, please.”

You face her, eyes still closed, a few tears sliding down your cheeks. They're wiped away a moment later, and your face gets enveloped in the softest warmth.

“Open your eyes.”

You swallow, and do as she asked. She looks at you like you're the most precious thing in the world.

“I love you.”

Your heart skips a beat at her words, lips falling open. “What?”

She smiles, her thumb tracing patterns on your wet cheek. “I love you.”

You look at her for a long moment, taking in her features - her forest green eyes, tender and soft, the slope of her nose, so kissable. Your eyes trail lower and then suddenly a loud laugh makes its way out of your chest. You bend, clutching your stomach, happy tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

Natasha looks delightfully confused.

“I'm sorry, it's just…” you giggle, pointing at her face, “the mustache.”

She groans, tearing it away. “I've been going crazy all this time, you know.”

“Yeah?” You grin, head spinning.

“Yeah,” she says before claiming your lips. She's soft, so soft it makes your toes curl and your chest get warm and fuzzy. The kiss is gentle, loving. You mewl against her, opening your mouth and welcoming her tongue.

The kiss grows heated.

“I,” you gasp between the kisses, “I love you. So much.”

You can feel her blinding smile in the next kiss, and the one that comes after.

[livesinfantasyland]

Way too many unholy thoughts in my head right now.

[athenepromachos]

Hands up all those who think that Gus Phillips is going to be one of our favourite Hen characters from now on ? 🖐 😏

[solns]

WAIT THIS WAS ACTUALLY CLOUD RETAINER?? LMAO

[joekeerysmoles]

Joe keery in Greece

🤤😩😩😏😵‍💫😵‍💫🫠🫠

[infinite-orangepeel]

is anyone else magically on their knees all of a sudden or is that just me ?🧎🏻‍♀️

[zarophod]

con o’neill girlies how we feeling rn????

[judeswhore]

oh god he’s hot as fuck

[dreamingonmyown]

disco tony doesn’t get NEARLY enough attention from the good omens fandom smh

[theatsthetic]

The Mustache by Emmanuel Carrére.

The Mustache is so cool, it's an absolute nightmare of a story.

The book is on the internet archive if you want to read it. If you'd rather watch someone go over it, I'd recommend watching this fantastic video on it.

[bubacorn]

[frogmanfae]

It's genuinely so disappointing how few people have gotten my Freddie Mercury bit

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

LET’S TALK ABOUT THE MUSTACHE 

So recently I went digging back through the original comics and I found the moment Jake decided to put on the ol’ push broom. And let me tell you… It’s a nice look. But dude is going out to his cab every day and taking the time to apply a fake mustache so that it looks good and real. Then he goes back to his (steven’s) home and takes off the ‘stache. 

IT TAKES TIME TO PUT ONE OF THOSE ON. Like, putting on any fake hair to make it not look like a silly costume $5 wig is EFFORT. You have to get the expensive kind, to get the spirit gum out, to make sure it isn’t going to slide off if you get sweaty or rained on. Brush it right. Maybe even apply a bit of makeup around it to blend the edges in. Then you have to take care of it! You can’t just toss it in the glovebox or drink holder! Lay it flat and protect it from dust and things. Jake took care of that thing! 

So naturally being me and absolutely obsessed, sleep deprived, and tired of reloading tumblr over and over again at 3am waiting for someone to wake up so I can get my Moon Knight fix…. I sat down and over-thought about it. 

First, I want to point out just how different Jake looks from Marc and Steven. 

Comic book Steven looks like a classed up Marc and Marc looks like a man that crawled out of a dumpster that used to be on fire and is now mostly just expired takeout, raccoons, and ash. Show Steven looks like someone you want to hug and read a fashion magazine once but got confused and now just wears fun shapes and colors because it reminds him of a show he saw once on TV in the 80s, while Marc looks like he thought a good disguise was wearing a hoodie and slicking his hair back. 

I digress. 

But Jake? Jake is a man that set out to look like someone else. To build his own identity. In the comics he looks solid. Set jaw, the mustache, the hat, the style. He looks like a friendly uncle (depending on the run). So different from Marc’s scowl. From Steven’s clean shaven class. He feels like one of the common people that can blend in. To be friendly and enjoy himself. 

In the show he honestly looks so amazingly different. The thin lips. The sharp jaw. The fashion choice that even makes his body build look so different. He looks taller, slimmer, lanky, and fast. From a distance Marc is shorter appearing but he is also built. Steven looks softer and squishy. It’s amazing what posture and fashion will do to change the shape of someone. 

But even then, Marc and Steven are so similar in appearance. Probably beyond easily confused for one another if you aren’t in the know to check the eyes and eyebrows. Aside from Steven’s curls flowing wild and free and his fashion choices, he has no problem with this. He’s never needed to have a problem with this. Steven has always been his own person and not aware of Marc. 

Marc makes his difference known by his choice in fashion that makes him comfortable and his hair. But he’s no stickler for it. He’s never needed to have a problem with this either. 

So why does Jake? Let’s look past the obvious “They are different people and of course headmates are going to have their own view of themselves”. Let’s actually look at Jake’s history. 

Unlike Steven, Jake has been very much aware of the other two while they aren’t aware of him. Can you imagine the number of times he has had to pretend to be either of them? Keeping his head down, mustering his best accent, or faking a smile as he left a situation. 

Jake is unknown. Unthanked, unappreciated, and overlooked. He carries his own trauma and he keeps them alive. He sees himself as different from the other two. He is the force that holds it all together in the background. He’s also lived his own life, even if Marc isn’t aware of it. 

It is possible Marc has far more missing time than he really thinks. He could easily miss days or months and think nothing of it. Maybe Steven was having a go of it. He could even miss a year and not care. Marc is so in loathing of himself that the less he fronts in his lowest of times the happier he is. It’s easy to see Jake taking that time to not only protect Marc, but to steal a little time for himself too. 

Over this time, Jake notices he can grow facial hair easily. It probably looks good. During certain periods having a mustache was considered very adult and in high fashion. It’s easy to change a face with just a little facial hair. Easy to look in the mirror and see someone else. To shape it and decide what you want to look like. 

Steven developed his own identity and clung to it so desperately. His name tag, his name spelling, being acknowledged for who he is. This was Steven’s way to say “I am Steven. I am my own person. I am my own identity.” 

Jake found his own identity through how he looked. His name isn’t as important to him yet because no one knows who he is. But they can see him. He can be himself with a hat for comfort. A popped collar. A bit of facial hair. He can feel like this is his own body. He can take care of the body. He can lovingly groom it. He can dress in things that make him comfortable. After all, Jake is the protector and he also protects the body. I wonder how many times he’s been slammed to the front only to find the body dehydrated, unshowered, filled with alcohol, and scarred up. 

My headcanon is that Jake takes pride in taking care of the body. Once Steven is in the loop, Jake will start to shut down the staying up all night business and enforcing hydration breaks. This is how he loves. 

So why the mustache? An easy way to move further from Marc Spector’s face. Also a way to let them switch from one face to another. Comic book Jake is NOT a fan of Marc. The only one that dislikes Marc more is Marc. So Marc wears the mask to hide. A way for him to pull on his own identity. 

The comics have been all over the place about the relationship between the three. Understandings, alliances, arguments, and attempted takeovers. But one thing they have always agreed on is that they each have their own autonomy. 

Jake might even have body dysmorphia. Honestly, Marc might have it as well, but for different reasons and in different ways. Jake sees himself in his headspace and when he is looking at the body, it doesn’t quite line up. So he is going to do his best to feel comfortable in the skin he is given. Marc’s problem is that he can only see the bad in himself when he looks at the body and does what he can not to see the body at all. 

Have you ever stared at your reflection and thought, “This isn’t what I’m supposed to look like?” It’s a surprisingly common thing. It’s also quite common in autistic individuals. 

So going back to the show, Jake’s sense of style is SO different from the other two that it’s easy to see him trying desperately to find a way to feel at home in his own skin. The gloves, the jacket, the hat, the collar. It isn’t just about style, though that helps. Jake is making his own image and doing his best to look in the mirror and see himself. 

I feel like I’m being less coherant than normal (which is saying something). So I’ll probably come back to the body dysmorphia thing at a later time if people think there might be something more to it to explore. 

In the mean time, appreciate that lovely ‘stasch. Let Jake have his moment in the cab carefully putting it on his face and lining it up perfectly. He’s Jake Lockley, new york cabbie with a heart of gold and a fist of steel. 

[dual-domination]

Now that my husband loves Mo Dao Zu Shi, I can send him stuff I find on Tumblr. So I sent this one for him...

And he sent it back to me and told me he fixed it:

He doesn't want to be a Lan anymore. He wants to be a Nie, have a respectable mustache and qi-deviate like man.

He says: The Mustache is Canon.

[pikslasrce]

UHM GUYS. SHE HAS THE MUSTACHE..

[thedreadpiratematt]

I Woke Up Like This (Put Me back Of Sleep)