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literaryavenger · 5 months

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Broken - part 5

Summary: You and Bucky keep bonding.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Minimal use of Y/N. Language. Innocent and broken Bucky. Mentions of Bucky's past and nightmares. A lot of fluff. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 2.2K

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

A/N: I decided on the ending for this story, and I have only one more chapter to go! Enjoy, the last one will probably come sometime tomorrow. Also, again, it's 4:30 am and I can't help myself lol.

Masterlist

Spending time with Cassie you couldn’t help but feel better.

The more you have fun and laugh with the little girl, the more you forget about your anger against the team.

It also helps that you spend most of the day away from them, eating lunch with Cassie and Scott, who you didn’t stay mad at for too long. To be fair to him you didn’t even know him when everything happened so you don't blame him too much.

As promised, Bucky comes looking for you as soon as he and Steve get back to the tower, finding you still on Scott's floor while you guys watch Despicable Me inside a huge blanket fort Cassie insisted on building in the middle of the floor of the living room.

Thankfully the other occupants of this floor, Bruce, Thor and Loki, are still in New Asgard. He’s just about to turn around and go back to his room when you notice him.

"Hey Bucky! Where are you going, how did it go?" he looks uncertainly at Scott and his daughter before answering.

"I was just gonna…" he trails off, pointing behind him towards the elevator.

"Nonsense, come here." you tell him, patting the seat next to you in the fort.

He’s a little hesitant, but slowly comes further into the room, sitting on the ground, leaving a little space between you.

You give him a smile that he shyly returns before you hear a little voice clearing her throat, which brings your attention to the little girl on your right. "Yes, Princess Cassie?"

"And who would this be, Queen Y/N?" Bucky’s a little confused by the interaction, but says nothing.

"This is Bucky. What title would you like to give him?" Cassie thinks about it for a second while staring very intently at Bucky, narrowing her eyes at him, and you can’t hide your amusement.

That is, until Cassie suddenly lands on a role for Bucky.

"He should be the King!" she says, looking from him to you a couple of times "You guys look good together." you’re about to say something, when Scott beats you to the punch.

"She’s right, I can see it." he says putting his hands up and looking through them to frame you and Bucky together, clearly much more amused than you are at the situation.

You sigh, knowing you can’t escape this. "Well, what Princess Cassie says goes. I’m sorry, King Bucky, you’re stuck with me now."

You turn to Bucky who's still very confused, and is now also starting to turn slightly pink, so you decide to explain.

"We’re playing make believe. Cassie is the Princess, Scott is the Jester and I’m the Queen. I’m sorry to inform you you’ve been crowned King of the castle." you gesture to the fort with your hands.

"And also Y/N’s husband!" Cassie feel the need to shout, making your head snap to her with wide eyes while Bucky turns even redder, your own face starting to change color now.

"He gets it, Princess." you try not to snap at her, she’s just a kid and doesn’t mean anything by it, but it’s still pretty embarrassing.

You see Scott snickering behind Cassie and glare at him as much as you can trying to go unnoticed by her, but Cassie's attention is on the super soldier now.

"You're going to play with us, right?" she asks him in a sweet voice, making the biggest puppy eyes you've ever seen. She certainly knows what she's doing.

Bucky, who hasn't said anything until now, doesn't know what to do. He looks at you for help and you give him an encouraging smile.

He then looked at Scott, worried that the man might want Bucky anywhere near his daughter, but Scott simply nods his head with a smile.

Bucky relaxes a bit and turned his attention back to the little girl, trying to find the right thing to say.

"Of course I'll play with you. After all, the Princess’ word is law." Cassie starts giggling at the bow he gives her, and you're almost giddy at seeing this side of Bucky, more relaxed than he's been since he got here.

Granted, it was just a couple of days ago, but he seems to be making a lot of progress really fast, so far, just like Steve said after he hugged you yesterday morning.

You keep watching the movie, then the second one and you get halfway through the third when Maggie comes by to pick up Cassie.

So, with the promise not to finish the movie without her, you and Bucky say goodbye to all three and make your way to your shared floor.

"You were right, she really is adorable." Bucky says with a smile as you get into the elevator.

"I know, it’s pretty hard to stay mad at Scott when he lets me hang out with her." you smile back at him. "So, how did your meeting go?"

You see Bucky tense and feel a little bad. You really didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable, but you were genuinely curious and also wanted to support him. After all you know having a hearing isn’t certainly gonna be easy.

"I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to." You quickly reassure him and he seems to relax and gives you a nod.

When he doesn’t say anything else, you let it go. But Bucky had a question himself.

"Why are you ignoring everyone but me?" you sigh.

You don't blame him for being curious, you yourself are as nosy as they come. Always in a respectful manner, of course.

"I’m mad at them." You simply say. "They selfishly kept a pretty big thing from me. They made me feel bad, knowing they were lying to me. They’re my family, they should trust me more than this. I’ll get over it, eventually, but for now I’m happy avoiding everybody." you shrug. You know it’s kind of childish, but you also don’t care.

"Okay, I understand that… But why are you not avoiding me?" Now you’re confused.

"Why would I avoid you?" he bows his head in shame, not meeting your eyes as you exit the elevator and you already know you’re not going to like his answer.

"I’m the reason it all happened in the first place… it’s all my fault." You can feel the sadness in his voice, you can see he actually feels bad about causing this.

You, on the other hand, don't agree.

"Bucky," you start, stopping right in front of him, forcing him to stop too, looking up and quickly putting his hands on your arms to make sure you don't fall after almost colliding with you. "you can’t blame yourself for other people’s choices. Steve chose to help you, Tony chose to fight it, everybody else chose a side. None of it was on you. You didn’t ask anybody to do anything. So, please, stop feeling guilty."

Bucky looks at you silently for a few moments and you feel like he's searching your face for any hint that you might be lying, that you don't really believe what you were saying.

But he doesn't to find any so he nods and says "I’ll try." with his hands still on your arms and it's like you're suddenly registering just how close he is and how warm his touch is on your skin.

He’s about to say something else, when you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

Bucky drops his hands from you like they burned and you turn around, almost feeling like you got caught doing something wrong when you see Steve and Sam just standing there looking at you two.

Steve has that stupid grin on his face that he doesn’t seem to be able to wipe every time he sees you and Bucky together, but Sam looks more concerned than anything.

"Everything okay here?" he says and you can’t help but roll your eyes at his insinuation that something might be wrong just because you’re alone with Bucky.

You turn back to the brunette super soldier and smile at him "I’m gonna go to my room, I still have some reports to finish. See you later?"

You wait until he nods and then get on your tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek like this morning, smiling a little more when you back away and see a little pink hue coming back to his face, but with a smile nonetheless.

You turn around and pass the other two men without saying a word, hearing them sigh behind you as you walk away towards your room.

Maybe you’re being a little dramatic, but you don’t feel like forgiving anybody else just yet.

So that’s how you find yourself spending more and more time with Bucky.

It feels like you spent all your free time with each other, only being apart at night and when Bucky joins the team for dinner.

He tried to get out of it multiple times to join you when you would eat in the kitchen of your floor, but Steve insists that it would be better for him to be around the team, even if just for an hour a day, and you fully agree.

That, however, doesn’t stop him from joining you afterwards just so you won't have to eat alone, for which you're grateful.

Initially Bucky's pretty content just following you around like a lost puppy, a fact that Sam and Steve never fail to mention as it amuses them to no end.

But Bucky doesn't care, and neither do you as you enjoy each other’s presence, even in silence.

Bucky likes watching you go about your day, still amazed by everything you do and you like having him near you. It makes you feel safe.

Still, the more time you spent together, the more comfortable he feels around you.

The real turning point comes when one night you open your door to find a disheveled looking Bucky, and you know immediately that him knocking at your door at 3 am meant nothing good.

Which is confirmed when he sniffles and you realize he has tears streaming down his face.

Without saying anything you hold out your hand, which he instantly takes as he lets you guide him inside, shutting the door behind him.

You walk to the bed and sit down, hand still in his and, when he just stands there you tug on it, silently letting him know that it's okay for him to join you.

You expect him to sit next to you as he’s done countless times now while leaving a respectful space between you, always the gentleman.

What you didn’t expect is him crawling into your bed, taking you to lay down with him, and hugging you as tightly as he can without hurting you, his legs also wrapping around yours.

To say you're shocked right now is an understatement. You always made a point to keep physical touch to a minimum when it comes to Bucky, not wanting to do anything to make him uncomfortable.

But here he is, clinging to you like a scared little kid, crying his eyes out with his head buried in the crook your neck.

You wrap your arms around his shaking body, hugging him as tight as he is, rubbing his back to try and soothe him, whispering what you hope are words of encouragement in his ear.

You stay like that for a while until he finally calms down and stops crying.

You don’t rush him to let go or to talk about it, letting him decide if and when he's ready to talk at all.

After a few minutes of total silence you think the poor guy cried himself to sleep, but he proves you wrong by moving his head away from your neck and placing it on your chest.

You feel him play with your necklace as he starts talking with a quiet voice that reminds you of the first day you met him. "I’m sorry, doll. I didn’t want to bother you, but I didn’t want to be alone and had nowhere else to go." and your heart breaks for him.

"Don’t apologize, Buck. You can always come to me, it doesn’t matter what time it is."

He looks up, looking at you like you hung the moon and stars just for him, and seems like he's about to say something else but thinks better of it, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times.

He settles for giving you a gentle squeeze and moving his head back to lay on you, but you don't need words to know he's grateful for your understanding.

He's seemingly unashamed of the way he's still clinging to you and you’d be lying if you said you mind being so close to him either.

You start running your hand through his hair, which he seems to appreciate, and, after a few more minutes of silence, he starts speaking again.

He tells you about the nightmares he’s been having ever since he escaped Hydra, and that tonight, after a particularly gruesome one, he just couldn’t stand being alone.

He doesn't go into too much detail about the dream but tells you enough for you to want to take a few firearms and track down every single person connected to Hydra so you can put as many bullets in them as you can carry, then light them on fire for good measure.

But, Bucky being your first priority, you stay where you are and try your best to comfort him, eventually changing the subject to keep his mind off the nightmare.

You talk until the sun comes up, birds chirping, but neither of you make a move to get up at any point, eventually falling asleep for a couple of hours in each other’s arms.

Part 6

Taglist: @aesthetic0cherryblossom @buchi91 @sapphirebarnes @ordelixx

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan #marvel fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x f!reader #avengers x reader #avengers x platonic reader #avengers x platonic!reader

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written-beyond-the-grave · 27 days

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Taking the Mikaelsons to a Concert

IK a bitch was gone, but a bitch is back… sparingly. I been on tumblr doing my shit but ummm I started this shit while in highschool like sophomore year… It’s been a year since I graduated college…. Anyway, fuck it we ball bc someone needs ot get this shit wet first with the Mikaelson’s… shout out to @starlightandfairies @wholoveseggs @klausysworld for holding it down. I love everyones work, y'all be feeding the fandom

If it’s snowin’ I ain’t going… leggo (once again, I write this for niggas. Mwah, to freedom)

So primarily I feel like the Mikaelsons would all be down to going to a concert, I mean Nicki, Doja, Lil Nas X, Mariah the Scientist, Chloe Bailey, Drake, Jhene Aiko, Victoria Monet, the Weekend, Kendrick Lamar, Travis Scott--- you get the point. You are the object of their desires and affections so they’ll go…. But what will ensue???

KLAUS

For nosey bitches in the back I got y’all…. This is Klaus finally biting the bullet and taking you to a Nicki concert, the Pink Friday 2 tour!

First, it would take hella time to even get him to go, this man is busy running lives, making hybrids, acting like he a real active party in whatever council shit he bullied his way into in New Orleans, and like running Rebekah’s love life…. He be busy

He probably feels like he should take you out for something, so he asks you what you want. Anything your heart wants he’ll give it no problem: private helicopter tour of NYC, a week in Brazil, couples massage, hell even go see puffins up in Iceland. But you know what your bitch ass asks for?

To see Onika Tanya Maraj…. As you should

This man is staring at you like “Love… who is that?” And you look at him and tell him “Nicki Minaj, Nicki Lewinski, Nicki the Ninja, Nicki the Boss, Nicki The Harajuku Barbie…. Have you not learned????” And he just stares at you in amusement like ‘it’s no Mozart, you modern women have such…. Vulgar tastes… but I will endorse this, for you my love”

Wait till he gets there AHAHAHAAAAA

You’re pulled up in all your glory, pink everything, sunnies on, gloss on, heels as big as his dick… And you know I don’t think Klaus would ever let you put him in pink spandex. But I think he’ll allow like a shirt of Nicki’s face on him, and like maybe a barbie chain on his neck… He’s a hybrid, he can’t be seen out like this (you def sent photos to the rest of the family of this).

I feel like Klaus would be chill af with the crowds and shit, until bitches start getting rowdy when Roman comes on stage. I feel like he’ll just be vibing, but mostly looking at you as you lose your shit

“A 100 MUTHAFUCKA CAN’T TELL ME NOTHING, I BEEZ IN THE TRAP”... bby chill, you’ll sweat that wig off and it’ll slip back. But deadass, it’s like another beast when she comes out and it activates something in you. Like the regular old human that Klaus knew of is gone, and is replaces by a bad bitch that would definitely put her shoe on his neck and he likes that

Funny enough, there is one song that Klaus would know all the words to… Moment for Life-- HEAR MY OUT, DAMN. Ok, the song is about literally getting everything you want and being at a point where no one can touch you or even fathom to be at your height of success or clout. Klaus Mikaelson gets whatever he wants, no one touches him-- or if they do, they won’t live long enough to tell the tale. King shit, so imagine your surprise when you hear this man over everyone else singing along and being into it

Yeah, did that shit. “What I tell 'em hoes? Bow, bow, bow to me, drop down to ya knees” Drake type man…. And towards the end just reminisce of all the people, woman, children, and villages he pillaged to get where he is now… mentally deranged, having a god complex and inferiority complex at the same damn time, and daddy issues while treating his siblings like his own dad LMFAOOOO

Good luck Klaus whores

And then when she starts bringing in old shit like the songs with Sean Kingston or Gyptian…. Oh boy, I know that man is catching a whine as you yell at him “YOU’RE SO PRETTY AND YOU’RE NICE YUH DUN KNO SEH NICKI AS YO WIFE” Ik you bitches telling Klaus exactly that and putting emphasis on wife bc where tf this Icelandic viking silverback think he going????

But as the show goes on, it’s a cute experience between you two as you guys kinda switch roles and you get to be super unhinged and rock out with the other people there and go bar for bar. Like you couldn’t fuck Michael Kors if you was FUCKIN’ Michael Kors

dabs sweat off my forehead

He’s happy to take you home and baby you when you come from the energy drop, but he will be wondering were that energy comes from bc you ain’t putting all that work in when he fucks you soooooo

REBEKAH

Ok so for this one…. Give me a Lil Nas X, Doja Cat, and Rico Nasty ass collab in a concert (bc that’s my dream lineup and y’all can take all my money). I feel like Rebekah needs the girl power and the gays for this so let me cook

I deadass feel you wouldn’t need to convince her of shit, she’d be the one to ask if you wanted to go because she’s heard some of their songs via you jamming in the bathroom and just booked tickets as soon as you said yes. Hey, it’s to make you happy and you deserved to be pampered-- and she’s trying to get in her modern experiences since she was in a box for a long ass time

1st song is Montero, it has to be she definitely wants to fucked out from the jet lag and becoming part of the mile high club-- it’s her thing. Plus she loves the glitter and probably being two glitter gay/bi/whatever floats your boat people that are dressed in matching outfits, but different color combos. Titties are out, and y’all are sprayed down in glitter

Then after that I feel like it would be Rico Nasty coming in hot with “SLAP A BITCH” and I know you and Rebekah felt this song on a spiritual level, so it’s both you screaming in each others faces while she has her arms wrapped around you bc she loves love.

Then it pops off with “STFU” bc a lot fo y’all hoes needs to take a seat and shut the fuck up when big bitches are in the room… anyways, personal issues. A lot of y’all do not need a mic and are not the big titty bitches y’all make yourself out to be… and take the mics away from podcast men, please. I BEG

But anyways, it’s really a whole anthem to all the rock/rap alt girlies out here. Rebekah isn’t used to the music, but she can get buck wild to it, especially when it comes down to Doja and RIco when they interchange with “Swamp Bitches”.... That’s my shit ngl

Nah bc opening a verse with “I WISH DEATH ON ALL YOU BITCHES” was insane… love you Rico <3 That song makes you wanna fight ever bitch in the state that ever did you wrong, every bitch working at goodwill that couldn’t take your brothers army discount bc you wasn’t personally in the army, the wack ass bitch at the post office that didn’t want to work there that day, and that grandma down the block that keep eyeing you and telling you that you ain’t hot shit… she wasn’t even hot shit when Project C hit the neighborhood and niggas were getting sprayed with hoses

Anyways

I truly feel like she’d appreciate the girl time with you, and just to be, and have her shit out and have fun. It’s what she deserves

KOL

THERE IS NO HEAR ME OUT YOU WILL LISTEN: NF

I know I been on the black artists wave, but for the niggas that really be feeling shit NF just knows and I feel like with Kols past of always being the forgotten sibling, not being i the pack of “always and forever”, dying all the fucking time, and getting treated like shit by everyone else unless they need to minute magical thing that’s super important he’s left in the dark

He is the most self-aware sibling out of everyone out this fuck ass family. And I feel for him honestly, being the black sheep, being the outcast. Being able to use your magic when you were a witch and then all of a sudden you can’t do that shit anymore because you’re dumb ass mom wants to make y’all fucking vampires and freaks of nature and then wants to kill you, like it was your fault in the first place? Shit was really whack.

Like he calls his family and siblings out for having a para social relationship that is super into emotional and measurements, and having no boundaries whatsoever, killing other peoples lovers, putting them in coffins just so Klaus doesn’t feel like he’s losing his siblings because he can always take them whenever he goes. But they’re still in a box, they’re not living life they’re not being happy. And that just shows how much class is really his daddy‘s son, even though his dad really isn’t his dad because his mom cheated on, her husband with a werewolf. And Kol clocks all of that.

So I feel that he would really vibe with NF, I really do. Therapy session, intro, hope, all of those songs the whole album really would have him crying in your arms at sometime around midnight when he just came over to listen to some tunes and have a good time, and I feel like you introduce NF to him. He gets hugged, and he knows that NF is speaking about his life someway somehow and it just really hits him and he just cries in your arms for that time

I don’t care how corny you think this man is, this is real music and he writes about things that are real, and that happens to him. The song mansion is legitimately about Kol’s life with being being abandoned and abused by his own family, and his own father, as class was taking most of the beatings, he still had to watch all of that. But being the middle child that he was, he just was overlooked, and that probably speaks as to why he acted out and didn’t get any of attention that he deserves.

And I feel that as Kol gets into a relationship relationship with you, you being his black queen, because I know that man was up in Hady for some reason helping him with the revolution. He just doesn’t give a fuck does what he wants to do so it makes sense why he would be with the black woman because it’s just everything, they are on earthly, they are Wisdom and magic and chest seal combined into a specific human type. And I love this for them, I love this for me.

But anyways, back to the subject at hand. I feel like you, dear reader, would surprise Kol with NF tickets because he’s been wanting to go for a long time, and you guys went dress up any fancy just probably black, cute little combat, boots and things like that. And then just head to the show. But as soon as the show starts, he probably starts off with one of his hard hitters. I’m imagining either therapy session, or mansion to really get the tears going. And it’s really just the two of you standing side-by-side, maybe even hand and hand shouting every single lyric word for word, and just letting out all the shadow work and trauma, that you two have built up over the past couple years, granted Kol is Literally hundreds of years old, and you’re probably someone your 20s or 30s. But trauma is trauma and y’all need to deal with that.

Bc deadass, these lyrics are Kol: “What's my definition of success? Listening to what your heart says. Standing up for what you know is. Right, while everybody else is” because in every single episode, when Kol says not to mess with some dumb shit that causes about to fucking do everyone else ignores him, even Elijah, and they fuck around and find out, and they all of a sudden need help. And then complain like no one told them exactly what the fuck was going to happen in the first place. This man is always right, and he needs people to listen more to him. He’s been listening to what his heart says, he’s been going out and meeting new people and trying to live a life that he would really be proud of. Even though he’s very much unhinged and still acts out because he wants to be king of the world and wants to have some form of control like Klaus has because he knows that he can never get away from Klaus.

And then, when I feel like it’s towards the end of the show, and NF finally drops, hope, I feel like that’s when Kol really starts to let go of things a little bit, and really start listening to lyrics and make a promise to himself with like, maybe fighting against his dark side, a little bit of all the things that he’s known, and then just digging himself a deeper hole. He wants to actually get better for you, and for himself to have a healthy relationship. Because he’s never had that in his life, and you’re just not a play thing to him at all.

“Thirty years of running, thirty years of searching. Thirty years of hurting, thirty years of pain. Thirty years of fearful, thirty years of anger. Thirty years of empty, thirty years of shame. Thirty years of broken, thirty years of anguish…. I’m taking the reins” so it’s really just him taking the reins of his life, and just making it better than whatever it actually was. And I hope that can be therapy, I really do. But this whole concert experience would really just be a gigantic therapy session for Cole, but also having fun with you because there’s no one else that he would let see that vulnerable and that lively and have his whole façade slip down like that besides you.

But he’d be a Drake fan, Travis Scott, and probably XXXtentacion… he’s still a menace, but he’s a healed menace…. well, healing.

ELIJAH

Here is the black womans whore himself… and my man *does the debby ryan*

I know that Elijah appreciates music in general, that man literally writes his own concertos, plays the piano, plays the violin. He is classically trained. And I expect nothing less. Honestly, he really is him. And he is also still very much worse than Klaus, even though he would like to believe that he is not.

Honestly, I don’t think you would really have to introduce Elijah to rap or hip-hop music. I feel like he would already be in Erykah Badu fan, probably really like the Beastie Boys, was into old school, underground in New York, hip-hop and rap. He was probably there, underground, too, for shits and giggles when he wanted a break. So no, I don’t think you would have to introduce him to hip-hop, maybe to a couple artists and everything. But, that doesn’t need help with that department

I feel like Elijah would definitely be a Kendrick, Lamar, J. Cole fan in the rap game and even Lil Wayne too. But I want to get into some good old Tom foolery before I say my crème de la crème.

With the whole Kendrick, J. Cole and Drake beef, that’s happening, I don’t think that Elijah would ever take any sides. But I do feel like he would definitely keep up with the news, even though you wouldn’t expect them to, with the whole suit and everything.

To start off, I feel like you being the reader would bring up the whole rap beef thing to Elijah. Since two weeks ago, you already brought up the Megan Thee Stallion versus Nicki Minaj rap beef that was happening. And now, this time it is Kendrick versus everyone, fuck the big three it’s just big me nigga BUM

And I feel like it would be brought up during lunch or something since you guys have lunch together, and you’re just giving him the whole play-by-play and then letting him listen to the song. And I feel like you need to play a couple times for him, so he really gets to like listen to lyrics and understand because one thing about it is…. Metro dissed everyone in morse code

NAHHHHH CUZ YALL NOT HEARING HIMMMM BEEP BEEP BOOP NIGGA

Mans said “BUM” with his chest

Like I know, J. Cole was on his bike on his way to the studio. As soon as he heard what Kendrick Lamar said, but then again, he could also not be doing anything because he’s not the type to just be on Rappy just to get some shit going you know?

But anyways, I feel like Elijah would totally indulge in this, and he would write down a whole play-by-play with what everything means because the power money and respect? “Sweetheart, Drake is the money, Jermaine Coke is the respect, and Kendrick is the power….” I can fully foresee that man giving you a dissertation on every single line and lyric and how it is a jab at every single one of them, and the meaning is behind it. You got not only a history professor, but one of the great literary investigators of all time for no reason.

I feel like Elijah is low-key. Also waiting for Drake and J. Cole to respond to what Kendrick said about them. And he’s so messy, for he really is, because he acts all high and mighty but he’s really waiting for the gossip about what people about to say

But moving along from the rat beef, I really do feel like this man would be a Lil Wayne fan because Lil Wayne was setting a standard early in the 2000s and probably even before then about how he really is one of the best rappers out there. Like, no one else was doing it like him and no one else doesn’t like him, and will never do it like him. You would catch yourself humming to a Lil Wayne, and I feel like that man would pick it up instantly, and just go bar for bar on whatever humming note that you were on and it’s amazing, but it seems so out of character for him, but it’s really not.

Because this concert is going to be one hell of a trip because first and foremost he is not going there with a suit on, you’re going to have to get this man to be casual. Which shouldn’t be hard because he loves you, you’re his little chocolate drop, pumpkin. But putting this man in a leather jacket and some jeans and whatever shoes that are comfortable for him to wear at this concert is gonna be one thing. Fighting off other bitches while in the crowd is going to be another thing entirely as well.

But listening to him, actually let lose for the good two hours that you’ll be there at the concert screaming at your lungs, and listening to this man stay on rhythm beat and have actual breath control when he’s going for a speed to is going to be insane in mind melting

Let’s be honest, you wanna fuck this man on the regular basis just because he’s him. But you’re telling me that he’s cultured and he can wrap and knows what the fuck he’s talking about?

Coochie hours have been extended

And it gets even worse when he knows that this turns you on so anytime that you turn back to look at him he’s already looking at you, wrapping the verse with little to no effort and giving you those bad eyes because he just knows. He knows what he’s doing to you and you have no Other choice but to either look away or to hold eye contact because we both know this is gonna end up messy when you guys get back to the Airbnb or hotel room

“I said, "He's so sweet, make her wanna lick the wrapper" So I let her lick the rapper”, and this mans eyes are dead set on you and his gives the lip bite… Yeah yeah… time for me to gooooo

#tvd x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #elijah mikaelson x reader #black reader #black y/n #black!reader #klaus mikealson x reader #klaus mikaelson x reader #rebekah mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson x black reader #klaus mikaelson x black reader #the originals imagine #elijah mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson imagine #rol mikaelson imagine

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weirdowithaquill · 6 months

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Traintober 2023: Day 27 - Record-Breaker

Mallard Broke the World Speed Record; It Broke Her:

4468 Mallard broke the world steam speed record in 1938, changing her life forever…

1938:

The quiet, almost timid engine sat in the works, listening to the workers. “You hear? That engine there is fastest in the world!” one said, pointing to the famous engine. Mallard blinked, amazed. She’d never been told if she’d actually broken the record – but to hear that she had, and to hear that it was major news! It was incredible.

There was no one better than her in that moment – she was the greatest!

“Ah, the engine of the hour!” cheered a voice. Mallard gazed down, spotting Sir Nigel Gresley himself walking over. Mallard gasped in amazement. The Chief Mechanical Engineer almost never visited his engines. “I came to congratulate you again, Mallard. I am proud of you – you are truly a credit to this railway. The poster child for what every Northeaster engine should strive for. Well done, and keep up the good work, Mallard.”

Mallard beamed, thanking her designer. Then, she turned to the gossiping workers. “Well? You heard him – I need to be back in service now! Hurry it up!”

1963:

“So, which of us is to be preserved?” asked Silver Link, staring down apprehensively at the members of the British Railways board. The men had come to decide on a Gresley Pacific to save from the scrapper’s torch.

“Who do you think?” snorted one of the men in the bowler hats. “We must choose the locomotive that achieved the greatest feat of a steam locomotive – 60022 Mallard, you are to be restored to your LNER looks and sent to the Museum of British Transport Museum. The rest of you… hope someone purchases you.”

Silver Link just stared in shock as several diesels sniggered in the background. “But I… but… She didn’t even make it back to London! I am the first! I reached 114—” “Stop speaking 60014, there is no reason for you to complain. You are already withdrawn, and shall be sent away once we have the time.” “Mallard… are you going to allow this?” asked Silver Link, eyes wide in horror. “Well, elder sister, some of us are just… more important than others. I represent our class, and I am the best at such an honour.” Silver Link went red in the face, but Mallard was already steaming away, blowing smoke at her elder sister.

Behind Silver Link, Flying Scotsman and Silver King shared a nervous look.

1975:

Flying Scotsman sat on the points outside the brand new York National Railway Museum, Green Arrow on one side and Gordon on the other. It was the first time that the four had seen each other – the fourth being an indignant Mallard sat opposite them.

“What do you mean, he’s worthy of being the same level as me?” sniffed Mallard. “He’s a mixed traffic engine!” “Green Arrow is an LNER engine, same as us,” reminded Scott crossly, facing down his cousin. “And there are only nine LNER Pacifics left, so your levels are completely worthless! We need to end this… this… this…” “Elitist garbage!” Gordon snapped. “We are long past this, cousin. What’s stopping you from accepting Green Arrow?” “Green Arrow is a simple mixed traffic engine,” hissed Mallard. “I am the greatest steam engine to have ever been built! No one has ever, or will ever, beat my record. There’s a reason that I am in this museum, and you are out slaving away to keep in steam.”

“Slaving away?!” Gordon let off steam furiously. Scott just clenched his jaw. “There’s no point arguing with her,” he sighed. “We’re better off just getting the rest on side.” The three steamed away, leaving Mallard to be pushed gently back into the grand museum by a timid diesel shunter.

None of the other engines in the museum spoke to her as she was shunted into place. Not Evening Star, not Aerolite, not Coppernob. They all just shot her dark glances.

1988:

Mallard sped along the line, feeling the wind rush past her face. “I forgot what this was like,” she huffed, finally arriving back at Doncaster after crossing the country to reach Scarborough and back. Several relatives of her crew from back when she’d broken the world record sat in her coaches – but they were inconsequential. After all, any crew could have gotten her up to her record-breaking speed.

“So, how was the run?” asked Gordon politely, sitting in the next platform over. Mallard ignored him. Gordon rolled his eyes. Green Arrow and Spencer shared a look.

“I’m impressed,” hummed Spencer. “Though I’ve heard that the East Germans have built a steam locomotive that’s almost able to match Mallard’s speed.” Mallard’s eye twitched. “No they haven’t!” she suddenly snarled, spooking several of the passengers on the platform. “I am the fastest. That’s my role! Don’t talk such drivel around me.”

Spencer sighed. As the only one of Mallard’s siblings willing to speak to her, and one of only four engines that had spoken to Mallard (he’d checked with Duchess of Hamilton) in the last ten years, he was uniquely able to see just how much his younger sister had changed.

Where Mallard had once been a healthy pale, her pallor had grown almost dangerously blue – while her formerly vibrant eyes had gone dull, with just a hint of something… unsettling in them. And yet her paintwork was spotless, her brass polished until it glistened in the sun, even after a full run with passengers.

“Are you alright?” asked Spencer quietly. Gordon and Green Arrow pretended not to hear. “I beg your pardon?!” roared Mallard, spooking yet more passengers. “Are you insinuating something?! That such a simple run would tire me out? I am the fastest steam engine in the world – I am more than competent, thank you.” “I just wanted to ch—” “Well don’t!” sneered Mallard. “I am fine.”

Spencer’s tentative frown turned downwards into a scowl, and the great silver engine hissed steam as he started away. Gordon watched him go, knowing deep in the pit of his boiler that the silver engine wouldn’t be back.

Silver King had never truly forgiven his younger sister for the way she’d spoken to Silver Link, even if his name had changed, as had his owners and his lifestyle.

2013:

Spencer, Bittern, Dominion of Canada, Dwight D Eisenhower, Union of South Africa, and Sir Nigel Gresley all stood in awkward silence. Their sister – Mallard – was being wheeled out of the museum for a photoshoot. “So… did you hear her last night?” asked Dwight quietly. “She was screaming at the shunting diesels again.” “I can’t believe they made me agree to his,” hissed Spencer. “I promised myself after 1988 – never again. And yet here I am. At least Scott gets to hide in the workshops.” “It cannot be that bad?” tried Woodcock – only the humans called her Dominion of Canada, “I mean… she has to have made some friends in there, right?” “Unlikely,” snorted Osprey – the humans had given her that name in the 1980s, and she much preferred it to ‘Union of South Africa’, “she spends most of her days just glaring at everyone. Last I heard, it’s a real treat for them when she gets brought out here to be gawked at.”

“Shh! Shh! She’s coming,” warned Bittern. The six all went silent as Mallard was dragged off the turntable and over to the line of engines.

“Ah, good, you all made it,” Mallard said haughtily. “It’s what I deserve, getting the humans to bring you all here to celebrate our class’s greatest achievement.” “What you—” Osprey cut off, indignant. Beyond her, Dwight gawked in shock while Spencer just rolled his eyes. The shunter braked the famous engine to a stop, jolting slightly.

“Did you just jolt me?” hissed Mallard, voice deathly quiet. The shunter gulped. “Don’t you dare!” snapped Spencer, speaking to the world-record holder for the first time in nearly thirty years. “You cannot deride these hard-working engines, I refuse to allow it!” “Oh? As if you are any better, Mr Private Engine,” sneered Mallard. “Silver King, the weird runt of the class who galivants off to that backwards island where our Crewe-rebuilt cousin lives.” “Gordon still pulls his express!” roared Spencer, letting off steam furiously. “Gordon treats everyone with respect! He’s a far better representative of our railway than you are – he’s out there, pulling passengers and acting as the ambassador for Gresley’s work. He holds a record for the longest-serving express engine in the world!”

“He has Midland parts,” snarled Mallard. “He’s a mongrel of parts, and I can’t stand him! I can’t stand him and his righteousness! This is my celebration, my record, my museum! He can talk when he has a proper record of his own. Let’s see him try and beat me – oh wait, didn’t he lose his dome last time he attempted that?”

None of the other A4s spoke, and the moment the photoshoot was over, all four in steam left, taking Dwight and Woodcock with them, leaving Mallard alone.

2016:

Flying Scotsman sat outside the NRM, steam wafting from his funnel. He was the last one left. Spencer had permanently relocated to Sodor after 2013, the other A4s steered clear of York Museum, Gordon had his own work, and Green Arrow had moved to Shildon. So, it was only him left to talk to her.

“Oh, it’s the money pit.” “Mallard. I came to say goodbye.” “Goodbye? Where are you going, Gresley Disgrace?” “I’m going to run mainline excursions,” Flying Scotsman replied evenly. “I’m not going to have to listen to you anymore when you scream abuse at the others or rant about the new PRR engine.” “Rant? Abuse? 4472, you don’t understand! I am Gresley’s pride and joy! I am the greatest – he would roll over in his grave if he saw you now. It’s my destiny to be the greatest – and everyone needs to accept that!” “Sir Nigel Gresley loved us all equally,” snapped Flying Scotsman. “And don’t you forget, any one of your class—”

“I did it!” roared Mallard. “Me! Not any of you! I am the world record breaker – I am the greatest steam engine of all time! You’re nothing compared to me! I am Sir Nigel’s triumph! I am the legacy of the Northeasters! Me! How dare you speed to me like that?! Learn your place!”

Flying Scotsman stared evenly back at the shrieking engine. “I have,” he said simply. “And it’s not here. The other engines can survive listening to your abuse, but I don’t have to. You’re nothing, Mallard. Not anymore. You sit here, on this siding, in this shed, and you cling to the past because that’s all you’ll ever have.”

Flying Scotsman puffed out of the shed, the wrecked screams of his cousin following him through the sliding shed doors. They transformed from howls of rage into a hail of screeching tears, as Mallard’s entire self-worth crashed down on her. The former icon of steam and speed finally lost it, all the rage and anger and simmering hatred growing inside her frames boiling over as she cursed her cousin.

Flying Scotsman couldn’t help but feel sorry for the engine – but all the same, she had spent decades wrecking their designer’s good name with her attitude. Her stardom had placed her up on a pedestal – one where the loneliness of fame had engulfed her.

Back to Master Post

#fanfiction writer #railway series #weirdowithaquill #thomas the tank engine #railways #traintober 2023 #traintober #ttte mallard #ttte flying scotsman #ttte green arrow #ttte spencer #ttte gordon #mental problems #Mallard loses her humanity

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marvellous1917 · 2 months

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Your mob!bucky is so sexyyyy, I neeeddd him in my life! Can I get the letter U for both alphabets pleeaasseee?

Thank you love!

Of course you can, here ya are 😘

U is unfair (does he tease a lot?) OR ugly (a bad habit he has)

——

My Icarus! bucky is the king of all teasers!

“Bucky please!” You almost yell with despair, looking down at him as he raises his head from between your thighs, chin and mouth soaked.

“Please what doll? C’mon use your words for me huh” he responds with a panty dropping (they already did) smirk.

“Pl- please let me cum Buck, I need it..” you huff, dropping your head down on your pillow.

“You don’t like what I’m doing baby? Okay maybe I should stop,” he starts to move from his position.

“No! No Buck please please don’t stop,” you whine, grabbing at his hair to get him back where you need him.

“You’re gonna be good for me baby, stop your whining and let me get back to my fun… aren’t ya?” He asks, grabbing both your wrists and pinning them to your sides to stop your wandering hands.

“Ye..yeah yes sir. Please,” you answers, lifting your hips to try and get him back where you need him.

“That’s my good girl,” he says, nosing at you, sending shivers down your spine.

(He spends the next hour eating you out and refuses to let you come until he’s finished having his fun)

——

Hehe 😈

——

Icarus!Bucky has a number of bad habits, number 1 being the fact when he gets angry, his anger turns violent quick, too quick.

“Who the fuck took out that shipment?! We had all our bases covered!” Bucky shouts, not speaking to anyone specific man in his office.

“It wasn’t any law enforcement, we would have all been arrested by now-” Tony states, the bastard lounging all over his couch.

“Yeah and it wasn’t Rumlow or we would have heard from him by now too-” Peter chimes in before being cut off by Steve,

“And it definitely wasn’t any of the other wannabes we know about, none of them have the power for that.” He says, rubbing his forehead, looking up at Bucky with a grimace.

“So, to sum up we don’t know,” finishes off Sam.

That is not good, not good at all. This shipment contained a large amount of firearms that Barnes had already promised to sell to the highest bidder. The loss of this shipment just cost him over $ 2.5 million.

“FUCK!” The shattering of the glass echos in his office, all his men falling silent at the sight. He looks down at his flesh hand, the wounds created by his action were kept open by small pieces of glass.

“…Boss-” starts Wilson, stepping closer to Bucky.

“I wouldn’t..” Steve warns Sam from his place on the arm of the couch, but lord knows the man never listens.

The second Sam lays his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, he spins and clocks Sam straight in the jaw, sending the shorter man straight to sleep.

Everyone freezes, except Clint, who gracefully catches the falling man before he hits the ground.

“GET OUT, OUT OF MY SIGHT, ALL OF YOU!” He roars, not even looking at his men as they leave, Scott grabbing Sams feet to help Clint take him out.

“Buck-”, Steve starts.

“OUT,” he yells again, starting to feel some of the pain in his hand.

Steve closes the door behind him, and Bucky collapses onto his desk chair, pulling the top drawer open and grabbing the small fist aid kit he kept in there since the dumbass named Lang shot himself.

There ya go babes hope you enjoy!

#mob!bucky x tattoo artist!reader #mob!bucky fic #mob!bucky barnes x reader

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radiofreederry · 1 year

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I'm trying to get into comics, any recommendations?

I'm a DC girl so this list is gonna be very DC heavy, sorry.

All-Star Superman by Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely: The book that made me a Superman fan. Beautiful, joyful, self-contained story.

The Flash by Mark Waid: Will make you a Flash fan. Some of the first comics I ever read come from this run. The original run is collected in omnibus format but Mark had a second, shorter run from around 98-2000 that wrapped up a lot of loose ends, and another one around 2008. Those are good too.

The New Teen Titans by Marv Wolfman and George Perez: This book probably saved DC, and it's a wonderful read.

Batman by Scott Snyder: One of the best modern Batman runs, although it suffers from the stink of the New 52 at times.

52 by Mark Waid, Greg Rucka, Grant Morrison, Geoff Johns, and Keith Giffen: Might need some onboarding for this one but it's a great read focusing on some of the second-string characters in the DCU and a triumph of collaborative storytelling. Its spinoff Booster Gold series is great too.

Kingdom Come by Mark Waid and Alex Ross: A surprisingly-accessible refutation of the 1990s trend towards darker and edgier superheroes, it's a must-read for the beautiful painted artwork alone.

Mister Miracle and Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow, both by Tom King: Tom King's had some big misses, especially Heroes in Crisis, for which as a Wally West fan I should want his blood. He makes up for it when he hits, though. These two titles are his best work.

Secret Six by Gail Simone: A great off-beat title revolving around a small group of supervillains trying to do good. Wish they'd bring this concept back tbh.

DC: The New Frontier by Darwyn Cooke: A love letter to the Silver Age of Comics with gorgeous artwork. Was later adapted into an animated film, which is also very good.

Dwayne McDuffie's original Milestone Comics (incl. Icon, Hardware, and Static), are all very good titles focusing specifically on Black heroes. McDuffie also had a great run on Justice League of America from 2007 to 2009.

Justice League International by Keith Giffen, J. M. DeMatteis, and Kevin Maguire: A great and hilarious book that offers a much more lighthearted take on the DC Universe. There's a lot of focus on more obscure and minor characters which I always enjoy.

Doom Patrol by Grant Morrison and Rachel Pollock: If you've seen the TV show, it cribs heavily from this. A lovely series featuring a group of misfits trying to find their way in the world.

Jack Kirby's Fourth World: Brilliant, esoteric, at times close to incomprehensible. A must-read.

The Question by Dennis O'Neil: A wonderfully cerebral and philosophical series. Denny left reading recs in every issue! See also his run on Green Lantern/Green Arrow, which is a bit outdated but still electrifyingly political for its time, and his seminal run on the Batman titles.

Marvel

Uncanny X-Men by Chris Claremont: One of the greatest comic book runs of all time. Largely defined the X-Men for several generations basically until the Krakoa era. Most X-Men stories on the "greatest of all time" list come from this run.

Vision by Tom King: Hey, it's Tom King again! He wrote for Marvel too. This one's a really good character piece featuring a character who often doesn't get to stand on his own.

Daredevil by Mark Waid: The best Daredevil run, hands down.

The Amazing Spider-Man by Stan Lee and Steve Ditko: The original Spider-Man run is still my favorite. Some great Silver Age nonsense combined with great character drama is what put Marvel on the map, and it's on full display here.

Runaways by Brian K. Vaughan and Adrian Alphona: A really good series that's mostly self-contained about a bunch of kids who run away from home after discovering that their parents are supervillains.

Fantastic Four by Mark Waid and Mike Wieringo: I sing Waid's praises a lot, but damn can he write. The best run for Marvel's First Family.

Others

Bone by Jeff Smith: An epic fantasy adventure starring three cartoon funny animal characters. My favorite comic of all time.

Usagi Yojimbo by Stan Sakai: Another epic starring funny animals, this time set in the Edo period of Japan. Mostly episodic, so it's really easy to jump into.

Astro City by Kurt Buseik: Another love letter to the Silver Age, and to superheroes in general. Essential reading.

#asks

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lukethompsonupdates · 25 days

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He is best known for Netflix hit Bridgerton, but Luke Thompson’s theatre pedigree encompasses Shakespeare, Greek tragedy and Ivo van Hove’s marathon A Little Life. He talks to Fergus Morgan about his passion for the stage and his worries for its future

Luke Thompson might have shot to stardom thanks to his role as Benedict in Netflix’s smash-hit series Bridgerton, but the 35-year-old actor is most at home on stage.

“I spectate on myself,” Thompson says. “I always have done. It’s been a bit painful in my life. And the only place on earth it doesn’t happen is on stage when someone else is spectating instead and so I don’t have to worry. You’re watching me so I don’t have to watch myself. I feel free. Those are the best moments of my life.”

Fortunately, Thompson has not been short of stage work. Born in Southampton in 1988, he grew up just outside Paris, returning to the UK to study English and drama at the University of Bristol, before training at RADA. He landed his first job almost immediately after graduating in 2013: playing Lysander in Dominic Dromgoole’s staging of A Midsummer Night’s Dream at Shakespeare’s Globe in London.

Since then, alongside screen roles in BBC One’s In the Club and Bridgerton, Thompson has starred in Julius Caesar at the Globe, Oresteia and Hamlet – opposite Andrew Scott – at London’s Almeida, and King Lear and A Little Life in the West End. Both he and co-star James Norton were nominated for Olivier awards for their performances in Ivo van Hove’s acclaimed adaptation of Hanya Yanagihara’s hard-hitting novel.

“A Little Life was such an intense experience,” Thompson says. “Intense in a good way, I mean. The material was very bleak, but acting is always pleasurable because you are indulging in a fantasy, even if it’s a dark one, and that is inherently fun.”

Thompson also thinks that theatre has lost some of its belief in itself. “Theatre is supposed to be provocative. I’m not on social media, but I think it can be very aggressive and vicious, and I think theatres cave to that a bit. Deep down, theatre is the opposite of social media. It is about people being in a room, exchanging opinions and emotions. I worry that social media is spoiling that a bit, which is a shame.”

What production made you fall in love with theatre?

I remember standing in the Yard at Shakespeare’s Globe in 2009 and watching Thea Sharrock’s production of As You Like It, and thinking: ‘Oh, wow, this is really funny and it actually works. When done simply and confidently, Shakespeare still speaks to us today.’ For my first job to be at the Globe a few years later was magical.

What are you finding inspiring at the moment?

I love watching Ivo [van Hove]’s company do stuff. There is something so wild about the acting in his shows. We get very bogged down with facts in this country, but Ivo understands the dream logic of plays. Some of the most moving things I’ve seen don’t completely make sense. I find that inspiring.

What do you wish you could change about the performing arts industry?

I wish theatre had more confidence. Right now, it feels unsure about how useful it is and about how taboo, complex and provocative it should be. I feel as though theatre has lost confidence in its societal function.

What is the worst thing that has happened to you on stage?

There was a scene in A Little Life in which James ran around naked for a bit, then I would bring him clothes. During one show, I couldn’t find his underpants, so I just brought him his trousers and he put them on. But I forgot that people pulled his trousers off again later and they were expecting him to be wearing underpants. James knew it was coming and I knew it was coming and we couldn’t look at each other for the rest of the play. I hope he doesn’t mind me telling that story. It was so funny.

What is the best thing that has happened to you on stage?

There are so many. That sounds naff but I don’t care. I love the challenge of going on stage night after night and trying to make something feel alive in front of an audience.

What role do you really want to play?

I would work with Ivo again at the drop of a hat. And there are loads and loads of roles I would love to play. I did a reading of a rewriting of The Seagull the other day. The role of Konstantin is really beautiful. I’d love to play that. I’d love to play Iago one day, too. Of course, I’d love to play Hamlet but it’s boring to say that.

What projects are you involved in at the moment?

I’m playing Berowne in Emily Burns’ production of Love’s Labour’s Lost with the Royal Shakespeare Company. She has set it on a Polynesian island owned by these big tech billionaires like Mark Zuckerberg or Elon Musk, of which I am one. It’s a really smart concept that unlocks a lot of very interesting stuff in the play. Season three of Bridgerton is coming out in May and June, too. And we will be filming season four soon after that. There’s a lot still to come.

Source: The Stage

#luke thompson #interview

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

Text

New Girl [04]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

(slow burn, endgame, as in you’ll be seeing some short term pairings here and then as well)

MODERN DAY AU

Word count: 3,512

Warning: cursing, a little self-doubt, not much else really

Summary: Life threw you a curve ball when you walked in on your long term boyfriend making out with someone who definitely wasn’t you. Since living with him was no longer an option, you’ve ventured out at the advice of a work friend and found the absolute perfect loft to reside in. The only issue?

You suddenly have four very odd roommates.

[04]: BE NICE

It was late when you got home from your fourth date with Pietro. So far, Scott Lang was two for two because you really liked the quick witted man he gave your number to. Pietro was funny, made you feel seen, lighthearted, charismatic, and, by God, was he handsome. Enough so that you thought you might be ready to invite him to the loft. That was a good fifth date, right? A home cooked meal? Now, you just had to learn how to make a home cooked meal.

As you tiptoed further into the loft, Bucky suddenly sat up from where he was lying on the couch. You tilted your head curiously. He was in his pajamas and had bed head, but he was not in his bed. You pointed at him, “Aw, are you and Sam fighting again? Haven’t you heard? You’re not supposed to go to bed angry with each other.”

“Funny.” Bucky groaned and rubbed his face. You came over to sit on the couch beside him, forcing him to pull his legs in so you didn’t land on them. “How was the date?”

“Dreamy and perfect and amazing.” You gushed with a sigh, flopping over to lean onto him. Bucky just chuckled and lightly pushed you back into a seated position. You motioned to his room, “If you’re out here then I assume Sam’s date went super good too?”

Bucky nodded, “Yeah, they’re in there.”

“Have I mentioned that it’s super weird that any time one of you brings a girl home the other has to sleep on the couch like some sort of vagabond?”

“Vagabond?”

You continued on as if there hadn’t been an interruption, “I mean, at our age, this should not be an issue we run into. That you run into, I should say.”

“Sam runs into the issue too.” He argued.

You scrunched your nose at him, “For as long as I’ve lived here, I’ve only seen you on the couch, Buck. Which is fine! You just want to take it slow and find someone with an emotional connection. I get that.”

Bucky shook his head, “Nuh uh. No, I’m not looking for an emotional connection. I hook up with girls!” You tilted your head and he pointed at you. “I hook up with girls, [Name].”

“Okie dokie, Buckaroo.” You chirped and he audibly groaned at the nickname. You gave his leg a couple pats, “You wanna come sleep in my room with me?”

Bucky blinked in surprise, then leaned back a little, “Sleep…in your room… with you?”

You rolled your eyes, “God, you’re such a boy. I have a king-sized bed, idiot. We can share.”

“I am a man.” Bucky said firmly and when you shot him a skeptical look he glared at you. “I am a man, and a man cannot sleep in a bed with a woman that he hasn’t had sex with before.”

You nodded, “Okay, we can have sex first if it helps.”

“Aw, would you do that for me?” Bucky cooed.

“I would.” You replied. “I would suffer through that for your sake. I’m a good friend like that.”

Bucky chuckled, “I’m so honored.” He pointed to the hall. “Speaking of favors, I took a look at the closet door in there for you.”

“Really?” You asked. “Did you fix it?”

“No. It can’t be fixed.” Bucky replied dryly. “You’re gonna have to live with the door just sticking.”

You scoffed, “What do you mean??”

“It’s the gear itself. We’d have to replace the entire thing.”

“Well, then fine.” You shrugged. “I’ll email the landlord and have him—”

Bucky reached forward to press his hand against your mouth to stop you from talking, “No, no, no. No, emailing the landlord.” You tried to talk through his hand, but he interrupted you again. “Doll, I’m serious. Do not email that asshat Zemo. Don’t do it.”

You licked his hand and he yanked it back with a groan of disgust. He rubbed his hand against the blanket covering him. You ignored his complaining, “Why not? This is his job. Upkeep of the apartment. He should hire sometime to replace the closet for us.”

“Don’t email Zemo.” Bucky warned you again.

He gave you a hardened look and you sighed, “Fine. I am going to invite Pietro to family dinner though by the way.”

“What??” Bucky asked in surprise. “You can’t do that.”

“You’re bossing me around a lot tonight.”

“It’s family dinner.” He said firmly. “As in loft family.”

You scoffed, “I want Pietro to be family. Does that count?” Bucky shook his head, and you narrowed your eyes at him. “Well, I’m calling a loft vote on that in the morning.”

“You think you can win over the boys on this?” Bucky grinned.

“Yes, because I’ll tell them that if they let me invite Pietro then I’ll also invite Natasha.” You smirked.

Bucky’s smile faltered, “Fuck.”

You rose from the couch with a victorious grin and moved to head towards your room. You glanced over your shoulder and motioned forward, “You coming?”

“Nah.” Bucky gave you a small smile. “Me and the couch are good friends.”

“Aw.” You cooed. “You’re an adorable little husband. Sam should be so proud.”

Bucky flipped you off as he fell back onto the couch. You chuckled again, wished him a good night, and then left to go get ready for bed.

It was kind of adorable that all the guys had started this family dinner thing. The premise was that they’d get to sit down and catch up with one another at least once a month. Such a sweet meeting to plan out. The only thing was that you and the boys definitely saw each other nearly every single day and night. Not just as passing roommates either. There was no need to catch up with any of them because you knew every single little thing going on with them and vice versa. Still, the idea of it was cute.

“They’re really…” You tried to think of a word to describe your boys as the elevator doors opened to your floor. “They’re family. Yeah.”

Pietro chuckled from beside you, “From what you’ve told me, they sound incredible.”

“Also, if Clint starts talking to you about waterfront property, just say no.” You stopped outside your apartment door. “And if Peter asks if you want to sponsor his band, again just say no. And if—”

“[Name].” Pietro set his hand on your lower back and gave you a charming smile that made your stomach flip. God, he was cute. His white-gray shaggy hair gave him a boyish look that you found endearing and you loved that when he smiled it showed in his blue eyes. Plus, his Sokovian accent made you a little weak in the knees. “I am very excited to meet them.”

You nodded and opened the door nervously. This was the first guy you’d dated since John which was stressful enough, and now it was the first guy you were bringing home to your boys. When you stepped in, you noticed Natasha was already here. You couldn’t see her, but Peter was standing in the living room, holding a beer, staring into the kitchen with wide, dazed eyes. Also in the living room were Sam and Bucky. Both men were sitting on the couch with drinks of their own. You assumed that meant Clint was in the kitchen with Natasha. He tended to linger around her like a lost puppy.

All eyes drifted over to the two of you, and you raised a hand in greeting, “Hey, guys! This is Pietro. Pietro, this is Peter, Bucky, Sam, and…” As Clint and Natasha walked out of the kitchen, you introduced them as well, “Natasha and Clint.”

“It’s nice to meet all of you.” Pietro added.

Peter pointed at him, “You from England or something dude?”

“Does he sound British, idiot?” Sam scoffed.

Natasha gave Pietro a smile and offered to get him a drink, dragging him to the kitchen, and you shot her a thankful look before snapping your gaze to the boys. You pointed down the hall with a hiss, “Loft meeting now.”

The boys followed you to the bathroom and when they all entered, you whipped around to glare at them. Peter shook his head, “This is your second loft meeting in one week. You need to pace yourself.”

“Be nice to Pietro.” You said, “No mean jokes, no ‘are you british’ bullshit—”

“It was a legitimate question!” Peter argued.”

Sam gave you a small smile, “I promise, we’ll be good.”

“Yeah. Scout’s honor.” Clint held a hand over his heart with a wide grin.

You gave them thankful smiles and they began to file out. As Bucky tried to leave though, you shot your hand out to stop him. Bucky gave you a curious look and you gave him a hard one, “I’m serious. I know you didn’t want him here for family dinner, but please be nice.”

“I’m so nice!”

“Just—Just don’t do that thing with the staring.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at you in a light glare, “What staring thing?”

“You stare at people sometimes and it makes them uncomfortable!”

“This is the first I’m hearing of this.” Bucky argued.

You pointed at him, “I’ve literally seen Sam yell at you about this before.”

“Yeah, but that’s just Sam. No one listens to Sam.”

“You don’t listen to Sam.” You retorted. “But today you should, and you should listen to me too. Please, Bucky, I am begging you.”

“Okay!” Bucky cried in exasperation. “I’ll be nice to him, [Name]. Relax.”

You twisted your lips in minor distrust while Bucky just held his hands up in mock surrender while backpedaling out of the room. Bucky had somehow wormed his way into your dumb heart. Natasha was your best friend forever and ever, but Bucky was getting there. You had never had a best guy friend before, and you really liked it. You loved all the boys, obviously, but you and Bucky had just managed to click.

It’d kill you if your new best guy friend didn’t like your new boyfriend. You had never been the kind to need external approval like this, but after everything that happened with John you didn’t fully trust yourself yet.

After your talk with the boys, they had gotten better. Enough so that you felt like you could let your guard down a little and just enjoy the night. Natasha had pulled you aside at one point to tell you she approved and thought he was a good guy for you, Peter immediately decided to like him the moment Pietro mentioned he had actually seen the Guardians play once a while back and thought they were great and thought it didn’t seem like Sam and Clint clicked with Pietro on a personal level they were still being civil. Bucky, on the other hand, was just silent. Wearing that stupid look of boredom that you wanted to smack off his face.

“Your friends are great.” Pietro mumbled to you as he walked over to help you grab dessert from the kitchen. He set a hand on your lower back and you beamed at him. Pietro tilted his head a little, “I don’t think Bucky’s my biggest fan, but…”

“Bucky’s just…a grumpy old man.” You grumbled.

“Isn’t he only a couple years older than us?”

“It’s a mentality.” You replied. The two of you went back to the table setting down the cake Natasha had brought with her. You sat down in your seat with a shrug, “So, Pietro is actually a bit of a beer guru. He’s been to all the local breweries.” You reached over to squeeze Pietro’s forearm, “Bucky’s a bartender, you know? At a local place called the Red Star.”

Pietro nodded with a grin, “Oh, yes, I know of it. My friends speak highly of it.”

“What’s your favorite brewery?” Bucky asked.

Pietro’s eyes widened at being asked a question from him and you settled in your seat happily. You knew alcohol was a sure-fire way to get your friend talking. Your date chuckled, “Torch & Crown is one of my favorites.”

“Oh, nice.” Bucky nodded, then shrugged, “I mean, they serve pretentious swill water but—”

You slammed your hands on the table and pushed to stand up, “Hey, Bucky, there’s a thing I wanna show you out in the hallway.”

Bucky rolled his eyes but set down his beer and stood to follow you out the front door. You heard Clint awkwardly clear his throat and lift a plate, “So, cake, huh?”

The moment Bucky was clear of the doorway, you slammed the front door shut nearly catching his heels. He let out a complaint, but it didn’t faze you at all. You lightly shoved at his chest, “You said you wouldn’t be mean tonight!”

“I’m not being mean!” Bucky argued.

“You haven’t said a word all night except when you were being an ass about his favorite brewery!”

“Well, I’m sorry your boyfriend has shit taste in beer.” Bucky shrugged. “And Steve says if I don’t have something nice to say then I shouldn’t say anything at all. I was doing you a favor.”

Bucky had mentioned his friend Steve in the past, but you had yet to meet the man. You scoffed at his excuse though and crossed your arms in frustration, “Why don’t you like him?? Why are you being so rude?”

“Rude?” Bucky scoffed. “I haven’t even brought up the fact that his cool gray hair doesn’t match his dumb eyebrows—”

“Seriously!?”

“Or the fact that he’s a blogger/bike messenger—”

“Oh my God!”

“I’m being so damn nice!”

You threw your hands out in frustration, “I just want the two of you to get along, Buck, is that so much to ask?”

“[Name]—”

“And I thought you said you were gonna try!”

Bucky shook his head, “Why does it matter?? [Name], do you like him?”

“Yeah!” You snapped. “I like him a lot! He’s the first guy since John that I’m even interested in.” Bucky’s lips pressed together tightly. “I think he’s nice and funny and I like his face and you know what? I wanna have sex with him. That’s right! You heard it here first! I wanna make sweet, sweet love to that hot piece of man.” Bucky rolled his eyes. “And you know what I just decided? I don’t give a damn if you don’t like him, Bucky!”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky challenged.

“Yeah!”

Bucky scoffed, “Then why do you care so damn much if I’m nice to him??”

You opened our mouth to find that you had nothing to say. Slowly, you closed your mouth again, clenching your jaw, and you watched as Bucky’s gaze softened. He let out a sigh, but before he could speak again the door swung open. You both turned to see Sam leaning in the doorway.

“Hey, guys.” Sam greeted. “Couple things, we saved you both a piece of cake, and also we can hear everything you’re saying.” Sam’s eyes darted to you and widened a bit. “Everything.” There was an awkward beat then he nodded his head. “Alright, continue.”

Sam closed the door again and you wondered if it would be better to just turn around and fall down the elevator shaft. You buried your face in your hands in embarrassment, “Why am I so bad at this?”

“You’re not bad at this, doll.” Bucky sighed. He pulled your hands away from your face then motioned to the door. “Come on.” He pushed the door open and dragged you back inside. Awkwardly you took your seat beside Pietro, and Bucky sat back down across from you. Bucky broke the silence, “Have you been to Brooklyn Brewery, Pietro?”

“Uh…” Pietro shook off the shock then nodded, “Yeah. I have it’s really great. Their Bel Air Sour is amazing.”

Bucky nodded, “Yeah, you gotta try their Brooklyn Black Ops. It’s limited, but life changing. Clint chugged nine this one time we went, and we found him passed out in the back alley half hanging out of a dumpster.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Clint jumped in, eyes darting to Natasha in embarrassment, “There is so much more to that story!”

“Like?” Sam chuckled.

“Like it was a bet, and I totally won that bet.” Clint argued.

Just like that the awkward air was broken and comfortable conversation surrounded the table. As Pietro laughed as a story Sam was telling about another misadventure Clint had at a different brewery, you glanced at Bucky and gave him a thankful smile. Bucky winked once and lifted his beer a bit before taking a sip.

“This was a lot of fun. We should do it again soon!” Pietro said as he called out his good-byes. You walked him towards the door and Sam pushed off the couch to walk over.

“I’ll text you about our next show!” Peter called out from the kitchen.

Bucky walked out from the kitchen and stood by Sam and the lovebirds. Sam held his hand out, “We’ll walk Pietro to the elevator, [Name]. I think Nat was looking for you.”

“Oh. Okay.” You said skeptically. You turned to Pietro, “So…”

“I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch?” Pietro asked with a smile.

You nodded happily. The boy leaned down to press a quick kiss to your lips and from behind them on the couch Clint began to whistle. You whipped around to discreetly flip him off before saying one more quick goodbye. Bucky opened the front door and motioned for them to go first. Sam cleared his throat, “It was great to meet you, kid.”

“Yes. Likewise.” Pietro agreed as they got to the elevator. “She told me her friends were great, and I can see it was the truth. She cares about you all dearly.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Sam clapped him on the shoulder.

Bucky gave him a small smile, arms crossed, “What he said. You know, we should go out one night. Hit a brewery.”

Pietro’s eyes widened with a grin, “That’d be great!”

“Yeah, it’ll be good to have you around.” Bucky reached out and clapped him on the shoulder as the doors dinged open. Rather than clap him and release though, Bucky squeezed down on his shoulder hard enough for the kid to flinch a bit. Bucky gave him a menacing grin, “It’s good to call you a friend, Maximoff. Here’s the thing though, you hurt [Name] and the cops will not find your body. Got me?”

Sam gave the kid his own grin while nodding in agreement. Bucky lightly shoved him into the elevator and Pietro was still trying to find a response when the doors shut. Sam laughed to himself as they turned to head back to the loft, “You’re a scary son of a bitch when you wanna be, you know?”

“I’m aware.” Bucky replied. “He seemed like a good guy though and [Name] seems happy.” He tilted his head a bit. “Wish the kid wasn’t so scrawny though.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, it’d make me feel better if she was going out with a guy that didn’t look like the wind could blow him away.” Bucky scoffed.

Sam smirked, “You want someone who can protect her?” Bucky nodded. “Someone kind of thick and well built? Can throw a punch if need be?”

“Exactly.” Bucky replied with a shake of his head as he slipped into the loft. Sam chuckled to himself again. His old friend was a scary son of bitch sometimes, but he was an oblivious son of bitch all the time when it came to anything emotional.

#Avengers #slice of life version #mcu #marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #natasha romanoff #pietro maximov #sam wilson #clint barton #peter quill #slow burn #modern au #new girl au

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the-joju-experience · 6 months

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William Shakespeare's The Tragedie of Skizzleman

In honor of the coming Life Series, I have uncovered some of my favorite scenes from the 1602 Shakespeare classic that inspired Limited Life. They're excerpted below the cut.

The Skizzleman Monologue (Act 1, Scene 2) TIES, my friends, you all are brothers to me I have known some of you for many moons I pledge to you that I shall bring dignity Not one among you are but lower goons And yet I fear what the future shall bring With our newly met neighbors all around Mere hours away from the conquering When our towers come crashing to the ground And those cursèd Clockers come back for more Good Etho, I know they remain thy kin But alas I must ask you to bring war So to my question I return again My dear brothers, Etho, Tango, Impulse I beg of you, stay past this next repose!

Act 2, Scene 4 Enter Scott and his attendant, Martyn MARTYN: My liege and friend, my body craves small rest. SCOTT: Nay, thou knave, now we must march and conquer. MARTYN: But have we not been wand’ring this forest? And have we not been lost, friendless? Hopeless? SCOTT: Rest, my dear comrade. Trust that Jove will help. MARTYN: But why is that so? SCOTT: But why is what so? MARTYN: Thou assumeth that thine gods will come. But where are they? Where is Lady Juno? What of fast Mercury? Call not for Jove, For no aid shall come to us this evening. SCOTT: And dost thou think that the Watchers will appear? MARTYN: Moreso I think that the gods of Old Rome Shall ne’er be seen upon this hollowed Earth. SCOTT: But thou art wrong, my friend. Now, we must go. Those Boys of Bad, thy own wicked cousins, Do now seek an audience with our tribe.

Act 5, Scene 3 Enter Etho ETHO: May a thousand curses befall my name, Before I sacrifice this beviled game! Oh, dear Skizzle, my poor and long-lost king, I hope my shame ended thy suffering! And what of my children, Scar and that pup, Was my witch wife correct? Am I washed-up? Enter Ghosts of Cleo, Scar, and BDubs SCAR: Father, I come. CLEO: Husband, I am near. BDUBS: Dad! ETHO: Oh, even now, their voices do me bad. SCAR: I have not forgiven you for my death. ETHO: Did you not begin the fall to your fate? CLEO: If thou wished to be absent, visit not. ETHO: I served both my king and my family! BDUBS: If you felt your heart divided, choose one. ETHO: Son, hear me now, if I could I’d choose none. Exeunt Ghosts. Enter Grian. GRIAN: Etho, my friend, you loyal creature. I gave you a sword, alliances feature. ETHO: Call me not loyal, call me not ally, I abandoned my fam’ly, I should die.

#mcyt #limited life #24l #traffic series #life series #skizzleman

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frozenjokes · 8 months

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this one is for you flower husband enjoyers, the thumbnail doesn’t make sense without the rest of the chapter but don’t worry about it

everyone is a dragon, jimmy is not. loserfail king

Scott and Jimmy exchanged a look. “So, what’s your plan with this fort, then?” Scott asked, not looking particularly pleased to be having this conversation either.

“Well, we’re going to blow up the desert.” Grian took their shocked silence as an invitation to keep going, “At a certain marker point beyond the fort, we’re going to hook up dragonflame cacti under the sand, and set it all off once the Red Army crosses into the danger area. Scar and Jimmy will do that part from inside the fort. Too fragile. Hopefully, the invading dragons will be injured enough that you and I can swoop in and finish them off. If not, we have another trap planned around the fort; a moat of sorts. There will be a shallow sheet with sand on top that will collapse into a pit of cacti. I can breathe fire down on them while they’re stuck. At the very least, we can give Scar and Jimmy a chance to escape.”

“Grian, I’m not going to just run away from the fighting,” Scar snorted, framing his comment like a joke, but his eyes were narrowed.

“If it’s hopeless, yes you are. Like it or not, I’m the most expendable dragon here. If you make it out, we can regroup and try again.”

“I don’t like the way you’re talking about yourself.”

“Now’s not the time, Scar,” Grian huffed, unable to hold back his frustration, but before Scar could retaliate, Scott cut in.

“No, Grian’s right. We can die. Sure, if it’s two against five there’s no way we’ll win, but if we can buy you and Jimmy time to get out, it will be worth it. Again, it’s not ideal, but if I’m red after the battle, we’ll all be stronger. We might even be able to take out a member or two of the Red Army and even the match. This could really be good. And that’s only if Grian’s plan fails.” Scott paused, biting his lip, “Scar, you need to promise me you’ll get Jimmy out if things go south. He can’t cross the entire desert fast enough on his own.”

Neither Scar nor Jimmy looked very happy at that assertion. “Scott, I don’t know if I can do this. Just, stay out of the fighting I mean,” Jimmy slid onto Scott’s nose so he could look the Seawing in the eyes.

“Jimmy,” Scott’s voice was gentle, but not patronizing, “You only have one life left. If you’re riding me, there’s no guarantee you won’t get thrown off and trampled or clawed or bit or-“

“I can hold my own, Scott! I did a number on Grian! Dragons underestimate me!”

“It’s not about that,” Scott stressed, but Grian knew very well it was. He must have lingered too long in Scott’s thoughts, because the Seawing gave him a sharp side eye. Don’t say a word. Grian wasn’t planning on it. “Scar is here too, and it’s obviously not because he isn’t a capable fighter. I mean, hell, Scar has probably picked more fights and won than any other dragon in the game. It’s just strategy.”

“But what if you’re losing? What if I can’t see you?”

Scott’s gaze softened, “I’ll stay where you can see me, I promise. I’ll be right in front of the fort, so I’m always in your line of sight. And if I lose, well, I’ll be back. I’ll be stronger.”

“And it’s not like you can’t do anything!” Grian added, forcing a strained smile, “You and Scar can shoot bows, right? Plus, scavengers have been using long ranged weapons against dragons for centuries, you won’t just be sitting around.”

Jimmy relaxed a bit at that notion, Scott following suit. “But you’ll stay where I can see you, Scott.” Jimmy stressed, like this was the piece of the plan he needed to make sure Scott understood.

“Yes. Right in front of the fort.”

“Good. Alright. We should run home and get some supplies then... It sounds like you guys are going to be doing a lot of digging, so I better get a shovel.” Jimmy climbed back to Scott’s horns as the Seawing nodded, standing back up.

“We’ll be back soon. Let’s get this done.”

Grian and Scar exchanged a look. A nervous excitement bubbled in Grian’s talons. “Let’s do it.”

***

read the full thing here!

#grian #third life #gtws #hermitdragons au #desert duo #goodtimeswithscar #smajor95 #scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #solidaritygaming #flower husbands

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stories-of-the-nrm · 2 months

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The Fallen King

The Flying Scotsman rolls into the station at the end of a busy day.

Scott: Ahhh. Another successful non-stop run. The A3s will run this railway for years to come.

His driver, William winces.

William: I wouldn't say that, Scott. I've heard some rumors that Sir Nigel Gresley is set to put his latest design, the A4 into service next month.

Scott uncharacteristically splutters and turns red with annoyance.

Scott: This is preposterous! Have I not proven my worth to Sir Nigel Gresley? I can't just be replaced as if I haven't been operating this incredible service to the railway for over 10 years.

William: Shhh. Steady old boy. Just because the design is meant to provide high speed passenger rides, doesn't mean you will be replaced.

Scott: I sure hope so, William.

Time Skip

One day in 1938, Sir Nigel Gresley appeared at the sheds.

Nigel: Good morning, Scotsman.

Scott: Good morning, Sir.

Nigel: I know you've been feeling down about being replaced, but I bring good news. You are being seen as a role model by the A4s. In fact, I want you to take me to the Doncaster Works. There's an engine I want you to meet.

Scott sighs. He knows he shouldn't be so jealous, but he thought he would have his record at least a little longer.

Scott: Yes sir.

The Flying Scotsman takes Sir Nigel Gresley to the Doncaster Works. An engine freshly painted painted garter blue sits on the rails faceless.

Nigel: Now in just a minute, my latest modification of the A4 will wake up. I believe if this works, this engine will once again be a credit to the railway. In fact, as you have been the only engine in recent British history to do so, I want you to mentor this engine. Streamlining by design will make an engine fast, but it takes great skill to manage such high speeds.

Scott: Oh. Well it's an honor, sir.

Scott means what he says, but it's still bittersweet. To him it hurts to have to be responsible for training his own replacement. Being demoted from the Flying Scotsman services was quite a blow.

?: Hello?

Nigel: Ah yes. Welcome to the world young engine. I am your designer, Sir Nigel Gresley. Due to my fondness of birds, I decided to name you Mallard.

Mallard: Mallard, sir?

Nigel: Indeed. The Mallard is one of the most famous birds in the world. Due to the modification I added starting with your design, I highly believe you will become one of the most famous engines.

Mallard: My goodness. Thank you sir!

Sir Nigel Gresley chuckles. He walks over to the Flying Scotsman.

Nigel: This is one of my most famous engines, the Flying Scotsman, known for being the first official engine to reach 100 mph. He will act as your mentor regarding how to handle high speeds. We value fast, safe, and reliable service on this railway. Is that clear?

Mallard: Oh yes sir! Thank you for giving me a mentor.

Nigel: Well I'll just leave you two alone then. There's a lot of work to be done.

Scott sighs. It's not at all Mallard's fault that he feels this way. Given the circumstances, the least he can do is make Mallard as reliable as himself.

Time Skip

Mallard: Scotsman, why am I being asked to pull a train like this just to test my brake?

Scott: This is meant to simulate pulling a real train. The men added a dynamometer car to measure your speed and other elements of your performance.

Mallard: So it was just like my tests before I pulled my first passenger train.

Scott: Indeed. Only this time, the hope is that you will be fit to break the speed record. Should the bearing on your middle cylinder overheat even with the modifications, it would mean more work is to be done. We don't want you hurting yourself just to break a speed record.

Mallard contemplates this. He doesn't want to let anyone down. Especially if it's because of something he can't control.

Mallard: I understand.

Jospeh: Alright, Mallard. It's time to start our journey.

Mallard: Very well then, driver.

Mallard rolls out into the distance. Something about the day makes Scott only dread his worse fear is about to become a reality.

Time Skip

Crowd: He's done! Mallard broke the speed record!

Scott solemnly closed his eyes. Even though he isn't old by any means, this news made him feel as if he's aged.

Gordon: Why the long face, brother?

Scott: I feel as if my time to shine's ended before it truly ever began.

Gordon: Oh don't tell me that you're jealous of Mallard.

Scott looks at Gordon. He shakes his head knowing jealous isn't at all the correct term.

Scott: This is not at all Mallard's fault. He's simply doing what he's told like any young engine would. It isn't as if I didn't know my speed record would be broken one day.

Gordon: So why are you upset?

Scott: I wish I was able to have that to my name a while longer. To be allowed the chance to live out my prime as the best of the best. I would be willing to accept being replaced should it be well over 50 years of service and I'm no longer reliable. But to be replaced this soon.... I just didn't expect it.

Gordon: At the end of the day this is a business. What's best for the business is to ensure our passengers have fast, safe, and reliable rides. By mentoring Mallard, you are ensuring that guarantee. That is being a really useful engine. Like I said before, get some perspective Scott.

Scott shuts his eyes sighing again. If only there was a way to explain that Gordon is right but he should still be allowed to his feelings.

Scott: I only hope that Mallard doesn't meet the same fate as me. Falling from grace for things that is not at all your fault is something I wouldn't wish on anyone. No one should ever have to worry about facing the cutter's torch.

Gordon: Indeed, Scott. Indeed.

AN: Thank you anon for requesting this. I didn't realize that the real life A4s did in fact replace the Flying Scotsman until I started learning about the history a little bit more.

Tagging: @nelllia, @gordon208, @jayde-jots, @mintydeluxes-blog, and @engineer-gunzelpunk.

#nrm fanfiction #flying scotsman #lner a3 #fan requests #lner a4 #mallard

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antipolin · 25 days

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Luke Thompson might have shot to stardom thanks to his role as Benedict in Netflix’s smash-hit series Bridgerton, but the 35-year-old actor is most at home on stage.

What production made you fall in love with theatre?

What are you finding inspiring at the moment?

What do you wish you could change about the performing arts industry?

What is the worst thing that has happened to you on stage?

What is the best thing that has happened to you on stage?

There are so many. That sounds naff but I don’t care. I love the challenge of going on stage night after night and trying to make something feel alive in front of an audience.

What role do you really want to play?

What projects are you involved in at the moment?

#Luke Thompson #Bridgerton #Bridgerton cast #Love's Labour's Lost

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thedo0zyslider · 11 months

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Needing You (And I Didn't Realize) - 5k words

Fwhip and Jimmy have a little too much to drink, get a little personal, and have some very late realizations

A03 Link

Grimlands Count shifted in his seat, his tail flicking idly against the floor as he watched the people around him mingle. All the emperors had been invited to Rivendell that night for a celebration; it was due to some winter elven tradition Fwhip couldn’t possibly remember in this state. He’d mingled for a good few hours before his social meter had run out, and now the half dragon sat at some far off table by himself. The warm, fuzzy feeling of drinking just a bit too much alcohol was at least blocking out the cold of Rivendell’s winters.

From here he could see Sausage doing….well something . It was clear he was more drunk that Fwhip was, and was absolutely making a fool of himself. He laughed quietly to himself, as Gem was now trying to pull Mythland’s king away from all the people and get him some water. The elf’s found whatever was happening amusing at least, but most of them probably weren’t sober either. They’d told Scott that putting them all around alcohol was a bad idea, yet the man had done it anyways. Fwhip took another sip of his drink, he didn’t know what it was anymore, and made a note to ask his sister what that had been all about in the morning.

There was the sound of a chair being pulled out next to him, and the Count turned to see who decided to join him. To his surprise the Codfather sat next to him, looking just as or even more drunk than Fwhip was. He tried not to choke on his drink, the sight startling him a bit. Fwhip stiffened on instinct, becoming rigid due to being so close to an enemy.

It took a few minutes of awkward sitting, but Jimmy did eventually look to his right. Fwhip couldn’t see his face, but he guessed the man was flushing pink with embarrassment. He could tell the cod now had a similar posture to his though, stiffied and wary. “Oh.” Jimmy said elegantly, his words surprisingly coherent and not slurred. “Didn’t know you were sitting here. Sorry.” He began to stand, gripping the table for support a little, and Fwhip just shook his head.

“You can stay, I don’t mind.” He said around another sip of his beverage. “There’s a fifty-fifty chance I’ll remember this anyways.” He wasn’t sure why he allowed the other to stay, but getting a rise out of Jimmy did sound much better than sitting here bored.

“…Oh, cool.” Jimmy muttered, and sat back down again. He didn’t have a drink on him, so at least one of them was trying to be responsible. Fwhip could already sense what kinda hangover he’d be having come morning.

“How drunk are you?” The cod asked after a moment. He clearly didn’t want to sit in awkward silence for however long they’d be sitting here. The Count just shrugged in response; he’d lost count of his drinks about an hour ago, but he’d had at least three.

“Didn’t think you of all people would get wasted.” He said with a bit of bite to his words, stopping himself from taking another sip. He should probably put it down for a little bit, maybe get some water.

“I’m not wasted.” Jimmy huffed. Distantly, Fwhip was surprised at how civil they were being, but maybe that was the alcohol. “Joel just challenged me to a drink contest or something, and I drank more than I'm used to.”

“Where is Joel anyways?” The Count hadn’t seen the Mezalean since the start of the party. Now he was extra curious to see where he’d run off too, not that he really had been before.

“Blackout drunk.” Jimmy’s response almost came out in a sigh, like Joel did this at every party they went to together. Fwhip wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case either. “Lizzie’s with him right now. I got tired of all the people.'' Fwhip nodded in understanding, and whatever tense air that was around them seemed to dissipate into more of a…temporary comfort until the party ended.

They sat like that for what must have been half an hour, the Count taking almost periodic sips of his drink as he resumed people watching. He’d seen a flash of Joel, and it seemed the smaller was being dragged home by the Ocean Queen. He snicker to himself a little, which became a muffled giggle when Jimmy groaned beside him. There went the cod’s main company at this thing.

The Count didn’t really expect to interact with Jimmy much that night. He assumed they would sit…exist near each other awkwardly until Scott decided to call it a night. That didn’t stop Fwhip from casting frequent glances at the cod person; something he did maybe a bit more than a normal amount. He ended up wondering how good Jimmy’s vision really was in the mask, because it seemed to be limited to two eyeholes.

It was those glances that ended up giving Fwhip more time with the Codfather. One minute Jimmy’s hat was on his head, as it always was, but when Fwhip glanced back again it was removed. The Codfather’s head rested on the table, and it took the ginger a few minutes to process what he was seeing.

Fwhip was even more startled than he had been when Jimmy sat down. No one really saw the Codfather’s face. The head covered his whole face, and was only taken off in private. None of them were even sure Lizzie had seen the cod’s face, at least since he became ruler. Fwhip didn’t even think Jimmy would take it off drunk, so what he was seeing felt like kind of a big deal.

He soon was very openly staring at the man, as if he was trying to burn Jimmy’s face into his memory. Fwhip had wondered what the cod looked like plenty of times, probably more than a normal amount. He’d never thought Jimmy would have blonde hair, but it suited him well. His hair was almost a pretty golden blonde, and looked soft and well kept. Fwhip wanted to run a hand through it. Jimmy’s eyes were brown, another thing he wasn’t expecting, but the Count wasn’t complaining. It was a nice brown, one that looked easy to get lost in.

The Codfather had freckles as well. Freckles . They were fainter than Fwhip’s own, but they were there and god was it was… adorable . He tried to ignore the thoughts of tracing them, or pressing kisses to each one. That was the alcohol, not him. It had to be. He would never feel that way about the Codfather .

Jimmy quickly noticed him staring, and gave a smug grin. “See something you like?” He purred, leaning his cheek against his palm casually.

“ No .” Fwhip huffed, feeling himself turn scarlet. He turned his head back to the party and took a rather large sip of his drink.

He saw the blonde smirk from the corner of his eye, and he squirmed uncomfortably under the other’s gaze. He was not going to be undone by Jimmy , nope. Not today. Not in a million years.

The man in question seemed to be determined to do just the opposite of Fwhip, as he usually was. Their chairs ended up closer, enough for their arms to occasionally brush against each other.

“Mind if I?” Jimmy muttered, motioning to Fwhip’s drink. The Count just gave a simple shrug in response, and decided to try and focus on that nice fuzzy feeling again. That was better than focusing on the damn fishman beside him.

Even despite his internal insistence he watched the cod anyways. It was like he couldn't look away, and maybe he didn't really want too. Fwhip watches as Jimmy downed the rest of his drink.The Codfather seemed to be doing everything slowly on purpose, like he was trying to rile up Fwhip more. And it was working, damn him.

Jimmy met his eyes, and raised his brow questioningly. He was asking why he was being stared at, as if the answer wasn't painfully obvious. Fwhip held back a sigh, and muttered out one question that was playing on his mind. “Is it okay for people to see you…without the hat?” Sheepishly, he moved his gaze away once more, feeling the tips of his pointed ears turn red.

“Aww, you care.” Jimmy cooed, somehow scooting their chairs even closer. A hand landed teasingly on his arm, and Fwhip’s head whipped around, his expression now laced with annoyance.

“Answer the question, Jimmy.” He hissed, swiping his empty glass back to his side of the table. The Count needed a refill, and he needed it soon . He was far too sober for this.

“Yeah, it shouldn't be a problem.” The cod said it so casually, like it wasn’t a part of his job to wear the head at all times. Hopefully most people were too drunk to notice.

Fwhip nodded, then moved to stand. "I'm getting another drink." He said, walking away and back into the thick of the celebration. He could feel Jimmy’s slightly disappointed gaze on his back, as if he expected Fwhip to not come back.

The Count got another drink, he got two actually. At first he wasn’t open to the idea of spending a night with Jimmy, but now he was. The morbidly curious part of him wanted to see how far he could go, how far the cod would take this. Fwhip smiled to himself, surprised he was able to slip through the crowd unnoticed, and made his way back to what was his new favorite seat in Scott’s palace.

Jimmy damn near beamed when he saw the Count approaching. To his credit, he hid it well, Fwhip was just back to watching him. He couldn't really get enough of that pretty face.

"Look who's back!" Jimmy purred, taking the glass that was handed to him. "And with a drink! What a gentleman!"

"You haven't scared me away just yet." Fwhip smiled, retaking his seat.

"Good!" Jimmy gave a lopsided smile. He took a sip from Fwhip’s cup again, despite now having his own beverage. The Count scoffed, giving the blonde a glare. Jimmy just smirked at him again, and made his heart beat just a little bit faster. They sat there for a while, teasing words and flirts being freely exchanged. Fwhip managed to make Jimmy blush quite a fair amount, and pride coursed through him every time he did so. Jimmy also flustered him quite a bit, and he’d never expected that fool to be such a good flirt. Though the Count wasn't really complaining. The world around him faded into the background and he no longer made sheepish glances out to the crowd, staying turned towards the man in front of him. It was as if Jimmy was his world instead, and the Count found he didn't mind that thought much.

When Fwhip’s own drink was finished he grabbed Jimmy untouched one, taking a slow, long sip from it. Jimmy giggled as he did so, snatching the glass away to do the same. "That's my thing." He huffed, pouting lightly.

"Well, two can play at that game." Fwhip muttered, voice dipping low and sultry. Jimmy just passed the drink back to him, and they resumed their earlier conversations until the liquid was gone as well.

"You finally wasted now?" Fwhip almost slurred, watching as Jimmy’s head nearly slipped off his hand and almost hit the table. About an hour of talking to this man and he was still not over how goddamn pretty he was, his eyes always staying fixed somewhere on Jimmy’s face.

"Getting there." Jimmy grunted, blinking a bit. Fwhip giggled at the sight. "Maybe we shouldn't drink anymore, I don't want to carry you home."

Jimmy saw an opening and took it, leaning in closer. "Oh, but I wouldn't mind that~", He purred, breath reeking of alcohol. Fwhip turned scarlet again, and desperately batted away the mental image of carrying the cod bridal style.

The two rulers were very close now, almost touching at several points. Under the table Jimmy lightly ran a hand over Fwhip’s thigh, causing a shiver to run through the Count. “Wanna go…somewhere else?” He asked, almost whispering in the cod’s ear. Jimmy let out a small giggle, then smirked, and Fwhip took that as confirmation.

Both men stood a bit shakily, then basically beelined for the first staircase they saw. Fwhip gripped onto the railing for dear life, watching as Jimmy stumbled to the second floor beside him. They didn't really know where exactly they were going, but they’d end up somewhere. Fwhip just hoped Scott wouldn't mind them ditching the celebration below.

Scott had noticed both of them sneaking away almost immediately. He'd figured it was a good idea to keep an eye on his friends throughout the night, and had seen the two supposed enemies flirting up a storm in the corner of the room. The elf should've known this would escalate really, because they were both stupid drunk and had no common sense, even when sober.

He turned to Pearl, the only other ruler who stayed relatively alcohol free. "You saw them, didn't you?" He asked, trying to keep a sigh out of his voice.

Pearl hummed in confirmation. "Why did Jimmy take the Codfather head off?" She mused, and Scott just shrugged. He'd been wondering that himself, but he wasn’t gonna complain. It was definitely weird, but if Jimmy felt comfortable enough to take the garment off then the elf would let it be. He'd tried not to look at the cod's face for too long, as a respectful thing. Fwhip had openly been doing the complete opposite, unsurprisingly.

"It's gonna be really convenient now." He said, eyes flicking back to the staircase. Pearl just sighed.

"They're gonna have sex, aren't they?" She asked, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"If they're not down here in a few minutes I'm interrupting them." Scott said, moving to get another glass of water. Sausage could do with more sobering up.

"You're not gonna stop them now?" Pearl followed him, skeptical gaze burning into his back.

"I'll let them have some fun." Scott said, reaching where the drinks were. He grabbed a glass of water, nodding to a few elves of high status as he passed them. "Lord knows they need to relieve some sexual tension." He muttered, leaning closer to Pearl so only she would hear.

She laughed quietly at that. "Fine, but you better stop them soon." With that his friend was off, taking the glass of water from him and heading back towards Sausage and Gem.

Scott just muttered something to himself, and slowly made his way back towards the staircase.

Fwhip, for all his confidence before this, wasn’t really sure where they’d be going with this once alone. But he was content to let whatever would happen happen. Maybe he did feel that way about Jimmy, and maybe it had taken a few drinks for him to realize that. Not realizing you were into someone until you were drunk was definitely embarrassing, but that was a problem for morning Fwhip.

Jimmy led them to a room, one dimly lit by a few lanterns. Thankfully, it seemed to have a couch or bed of some kind. Maybe a chair. Fwhip couldn’t really tell, his vision was spinning just a tad. The room did seem to have a good amount of bookshelves from what he could tell, so it was probably a study of some kind and probably had a couch.

Fwhip shut the door behind them, fumbling with the lock a little. He hurriedly shoved his coat and scarf off his shoulders, letting fall carelessly to the ground and leaving him in just a white undershirt. Jimmy was on him immediately after that, hands coming to hold the Count’s face and pulling him close.

"Eager aren't we?" Fwhip murmured, nose bumping with the cods. Jimmy just hummed in response, hands coming to rest on his waist. The blonde closed the gap between them, lips feeling nice against Fwhip's own. Jimmy kissed him shyly at first, before gaining a bit more confidence and kissing him deeper. Fwhip kissed him back hungrily, whining as the other’s tongue slipped into his mouth. One of Jimmy’s hands stayed on his face, while the other went to tug at his hair. Fwhip's goggles were removed from his head at some point, landing on the floor with a low thump . He made another more muffled whine, feeling his back gently hit a wall.

They pulled back momentarily, lungs burning for air, before Fwhip caught the others' lips again. He moved a hand to hold the back of Jimmy’s head, listening to the blonde’s own muffled sounds and smiling into the kiss. Jimmy started to move away slowly, starting to place kisses along Fwhip’s jawline. The Count happily let him, twitching as Jimmy placed a knee between his legs.

The kisses trailed downwards, Fwhip letting out a pleased sound when sharp teeth brushed over his skin before biting down. He tugged at the others hair, which earned him more kisses placed on his skin. Jimmy left a few nice marks along the Count’s neck before moving upwards once more, apparently satisfied with his quick work.

Fwhip took more control this time, slipping his tongue into Jimmy’s mouth when their lips connected again. He broke away quickly after that, breathless as his own kisses moved along the other's jawline and he eventually found his way to Jimmy’s neck. He moved the collar of the blondes shirt to the side, lips slowly sucking at one high up spot. The Codfather seemed to enjoy the neck kisses much more than Fwhip did, his grip on the Count tightening in an instant.

Jimmy craned his neck, exposing more of it to Fwhip. He smiled at that, bruising his teeth over soft skin. He bit down slowly, enjoying how the cod squirmed at it. After pressing a few bruises into the cod's skin, Fwhip found a spot Jimmy quite liked, eliciting a rather loud groan from the latter when he pressed his lips to it. He stayed there for a minute, sucking and biting at the area before trailing downwards even further.

Jimmy whined as his shirt was unbuttoned slightly, allowing Fwhip access to his chest and shoulder blades. The Count continued to place more kisses along Jimmy’s skin, pressing more and more marks along his shoulders, down his chest, until the other began maneuvering his head upwards again.

Fwhip groaned as their lips connected once more, his back leaving the wall. The two pulled away after another long kiss, the cod quickly moving onto the couch Fwhip had seen when they first entered the room.

He pressed Jimmy’s back to the couch, pinning the cod under him. He straddled the other, arms resting beside the cod's head. The blonde moved to capture his lips again, holding the back of his head and earning another noise from Fwhip. Jimmy’s hands started to roam as he kissed the Count, eventually slipping under his shirt. Claws thumbed at the waistband of his pants, Fwhip beginning to grind his hips against the cod’s. Jimmy made a small noise, moving to return the action.

They were interrupted quickly after that, the door Fwhip had failed to lock being opened. They both pulled away quickly and breathless, to see a very unphased Scott leaning in the doorway. He'd likely prepared himself to see something scandalous, but was a little surprised both rulers still had their shirts on.

“You can’t have sex at my party.” Scott stated it bluntly before the other two could get a word in, hands resting on his hips.

"But Scott-" Jimmy whined, words sounding slurred. Fwhip moved off him, a little embarrassment fighting it way through his altered state of mind. He felt fuzzier than he had when entering, and it seemed his last drink had caught up to him while he was occupied, and the Count was now only registering the full effect of it.

"No 'buts!'" Scott exclaimed, handing Fwhip his coat and scarf from the floor. "You two aren't sober enough to do this!." The elf sounded more like a fuming mother than a concerned friend as he spoke, begrudgingly helping Jimmy fix his shirt collar; the cod clearly not having enough coordination to do so. Fwhip took a moment, but eventually found his goggles as well. He managed to secure them on his head once more, and followed his fellow emperors out of the room.

The elven ruler ushered them both back to the party, watching to make sure neither of them slipped on the stairs. Fwhip allowed himself to be dragged over to a different table than his original one, taking the glass of water he was handed. Jimmy sat next to him, almost leaning against his shoulder. At some point the Codfather's head was placed on the table alongside their cups.

The rest of the party was a blur to Fwhip after that point, becoming a blur of moving shapes and the occasional hushed word whispered to Jimmy. At one point Scott, recognizing quite a few of his guests couldn't be sent home in this state, brought them back upstairs and allowed them to share a guest room.

Fwhip didn’t take long to fall asleep, head resting against a plush pillow and his body sinking into the warmth of the bedsheets. There was a strong warmth next to him, and he was vaguely aware of Jimmy curled up next to him. Unaware if Scott had dumped them in the same room, or if Jimmy had just found him in his drunken state, Fwhip moved closer. He wrapped an arm around the Codfather sleepily, letting the darkness of unconsciousness claim him.

Fwhip woke up the next morning slowly, pain pounding sharply in his head. He groaned as he sat up, palm pressed to his pounding forehead as he tried to remember the previous night.

The memories came back to him quicker than he expected, and soon the Count was flushing deep red from embarrassment. God what had he been thinking? He felt his neck, blushing further as his hands ran over hours old marks and bruises. He adjusted his jacket collar for a minute, hoping that would hide most of not everything. Fwhip looked to his right, and ignored the pang of disappointment at the Codfather having left him.

He stood slowly, gripping onto the headboard for balance. It took a few seconds for his vision to stop spinning, but Fwhip eventually felt stable enough to move out of the room and descend the stairs once more. He held onto the handrail tighter than he had the night before, swearing under his breath when he almost stumbled.

He reached the bottom and found his way to Scott’s dining room, and saw Sausage sat at the table. The Mythlander looked just as horrible as Fwhip felt, and the Count slumped in a chair next to him. Sausage gave a smile of greeting, sliding him a glass of water the Count hadn’t even noticed was on the table. Fwhip took it gratefully, suddenly aware of how dry his throat was.

“Heard you had a fun night last night.” Sausage muttered after a moment, giggling when the tips of Fwhip’s ears turned red.

“Maybe I did.” He responded cooly, taking another sip of water.

“I can see a hickey on your neck.” Sausage pointed it out with a smirk, almost causing the Count to choke on his drink. He had half the mind to splash the thing in his friend’s stupid face.

“So, Jimmy huh?” Mythland’s king seemed very intent on embarrassing him. Fwhip sighed after a moment's silence, knowing he dodging questions wouldn't get him anywhere. “Yep, Jimmy.” He grumbled, eyes focusing on the wall.

“I wasn’t expecting that, but he’s a good guy! You could do a lot worse!” Sausage patted him on the back gently, still smiling at him. Fwhip just held back another sigh.

“I wasn’t expecting it either,” He muttered, almost inaudibly, and his friend fell into a curious silence beside him. Before Sausage could think of another sly remark the dining hall’s door opened again, and Scott walked in. Thankfully, or maybe unfortunately, Jimmy wasn’t with him.

“Morning!” The elf called cheerily, taking a seat across from them.

Fwhip nodded in acknowledgement as he took another sip of his water, not feeling very social in the moment. He heard Sausage thank Scott for letting them stay, and had tuned out by the time the elf insisted it wasn’t a problem. The Count had a lot of things on his mind, a lot of feelings tangled up inside him, and he didn’t like how messy it was. He wasn’t supposed to feel like that about Jimmy, they were supposed to hate each other. He shouldn’t want to kiss him again, he shouldn’t have kissed him, that wasn’t how their dynamic was supposed to work. They were enemies, they always had been, and last night was confusing all of that in the Count’s head. Fwhip wasn’t even sure if the Codfather felt the same, or if he’d just been too drunk to even think properly.

He was snapped out of his thoughts not long after Sausage left, by Scott gently tapping on his shoulder. Fwhip looked over, surprised to see the gentle look spreading across Scott’s features. “Jimmy’s still here, in the garden. If you want to see him, but you don’t have to.” The elf muttered, and Fwhip’s internal turmoil had either been very obvious or Scott had just come to a logical conclusion about the situation.

“Thanks…” He muttered, looking at the now empty glass in his hands. Scott threw an arm around his shoulder, giving him a comforting yet slightly awkward side hug. Fwhip leaned into the sensation a little more than he would care to admit, and tried to not feel too disappointed when the elf eventually left to go about his usual morning.

It took a few minutes of gathering his courage, but the Count eventually stood from his chair and made his way to the garden. He walked slowly at first, stalling further, but then he packed up the pace, worried that the Codfather might leave before he got there. When Fwhip did eventually arrive at Scott’s small garden he found Jimmy rather quickly, basically as soon as he walked in. The cod was facing away from him, back leaning against a wall. His usual mask was back on, and Fwhip distantly longed to see his pretty face again. He took a deep breath, and started to walk forward slowly. Jimmy turned his head, whatever expression he wore upon seeing the Count being hidden behind the fish head. Fwhip really hoped it was a good one.

“Hi,” Fwhip said softly.

“Hi,” Jimmy responded, a smile in his voice. “Should probably take this off for this, huh?” He muttered, removing the Codfather’s head. Fwhip just nodded, trying not to flush too hard. He moved to stand in front of the other, shoving his hands in his coat pockets awkwardly. Jimmy held the mask in his hands, and an awkward silence fell between them.

“So,” Jimmy muttered after a moment. “About last night-”

Fwhip cut him off quickly. “Sorry about that,” He averted his eyes to the grass and flowers below. “I shouldn’t have-”

“What? No!” Jimmy interrupted him this time, his tone puzzled. He reached out a hand to gently turn Fwhip’s chin upwards, forcing the other to move his gaze to the blonde’s face again. Startled and bewildered, the Count found once again himself trying not to turn red at the contact. “You didn’t do anything wrong, I was the one who started flirting. I wanted to do all that. If anything I should be apologizing!” Jimmy explained it softly, his eyes gentle and kind.

“Oh,” Was Fwhip’s elegant reply. “You don’t need to apologize either, you didn’t force me into anything.” He muttered, unconsciously leaning into the touch.

“Thank Cod,” Jimmy breathed a sigh of relief. “I don't really remember it that well,” He admitted it with a sheepish giggle, and seemed to realize he was holding Fwhip’s face. The cod moved his hand away, and Fwhip laughed along with him; only a small bit disappointed at the loss of contact.

“How much of a lightweight are you?” Fwhip teased lightly, unconsciously shifting closer.

“Pretty light, but not Joel level light.” Jimmy huffed, a fond smile crossing his features.

They stood there for a moment, exchanging small laughs and fond glances before they realized how close together they’d drifted. It was as if there was some sort of magnetic force drawing them towards each other. The moment was soft, domestic even, and Fwhip blushed fully when their noses almost bumped.

Jimmy leaned in, seeming hesitant, before kissing him sweetly. Fwhip was caught off guard a little, but quickly moved a hand to cup the cod's face and kiss him back just as sweet. The kiss was chaste, and Jimmy moved away with a soft smile and a very fond look on his face. Fwhip smiled back at him, surprised at how the cod leaned into his touch and purred . Yep, that was absolutely adorable, so adorable that he was going to explode .

“So…that was more than just a failed drunken hookup?” He asked, thumbing Jimmy’s cheek without thinking about the action.

“Yeah, yeah it was.” The blonde muttered, and leaned again as if to add further confirmation. Fwhip giggled, squeezing his eyes shut as kisses were peppered across his face. The internal storm from earlier seemed to subside just a little, leaving him with only a few personal knots to untangle later

"Would you wanna….try that again sometime?" Fwhip asked with a bit of hesitation, watching as Jimmy moved away to put his mask back on and letting go of his face reluctantly. Before the head hid his face again, the Count saw the fainest blush spreading across the other’s face at the suggestion.

“Yeah, just not too soon.” Jimmy agreed, and somehow Fwhip could tell he was smiling, even without seeing his expression.

They two started the walk out of Scott’s home in silence, making small conversation along the way. If they walked slowly due to hangovers and to maybe spend a few more precious seconds together, well that was between them and the walls of the elven king’s palace. At one point Jimmy slipped his own scaly hand into Fwhip’s, and the Count couldn’t help but smile gently at the action. He laced their fingers together, warmly bubbling up in his chest. Maybe they’d made everything more confusing than it had been before that night, but moments like these were starting to make Fwhip feel like everything would be okay.

Jimmy sent Scott a goodbye message, informing the elf that Fwhip was with him as they reached the entrance. After that the two left by exchanging sweet goodbyes, a chaste kiss, and promises to meet again soon.

#ron.writing #ron.fic #fwhimmy #fwhip #empires fwhip #jimmy solidarity #the codfather #count fwhip #empiresshipping #empires smp s1 #empires smp #empiresblr #hi hello fwhimmy nation i am back with more food

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arealphrooblem · 10 months

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A Favor for a Favor Part 5

Part one here

CW for the fic overall: kissing/fade to black off screen sex, mentions of non-consensual drugging, non-graphic wound care, off screen murder mention

Synopsis:

When Roxanne -- Agent name Rocket -- is back-stabbed by a friend and given a serum that drains her of her powers and leaves her helpless, she has no choice but to turn to the one person she can't trust: Her nemesis -- a politician and king of the underworld. With her powerless and in the palm of his hand, what he decides to do with her is greatly influenced by their chance meeting as teenagers that neither of them have been able to forget.

John had stayed home with her today and while he may have been happy to putter around the house, washing dishes (which was weird as hell, watching him be domestic), it was killing her to sit and do nothing while Erik got to prance around scott free.

He offered her chess, which she rejected by laughing in his face.

“Like I’m going to play with a known cheater,” she said.

“You don’t think I can win on my own merit?” he asked, sounding almost offended.

“Oh probably. But you won’t. You can’t seem to stay out of my head.”

That fact should bother her more than it did. But part of her felt weirdly flattered that he considered her mind so fascinating. She had no dark past or juicy secrets or scandalous hobbies. Super speed was the only interesting thing about her and now she didn’t even have that anymore.

That evening after dinner she watched him grab his coat and keys. A spark of excitement flared to life.

“Where are we going?” she asked. “Did you find something out? You should let me borrow a jacket.”

He paused at the door, eyebrows raised. “We? We are not going anywhere.”

“Well you’re certainly going somewhere.”

“Yes. Without you.”

“What?”

He gave her a sharp look.“Let me make something very clear to you: there is no we. I am handling this. You are staying here and you are not to leave until I get this sorted out.”

Her mouth fell open. “You can’t just -- hold me hostage like you kidnapped me!” she sputtered

“I did kidnap you. If the armed guards, rope, and empty warehouse didn’t clue you into that, I’m not sure what else could.”

“I -- that’s not -- what?”

“There is only one elevator that goes to the top floor,” he continued, ignoring her, “and it is heavily guarded by people who know your face and reputation.”

“I’m more than just fast you know,” she scoffed. “I could find a way out of here that doesn't use the elevator.”

“I’m sure you’d be reckless and stupid enough to try. Which is why great harm will come to those guards and their loved ones if you go missing from this apartment for any length of time. And their pain will rest on your shoulders.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“And also effective.” He flipped the collar up on his coat. “Be a good girl and stay here and nothing bad should happen.”

“I’ve never been a good girl a day in my life,” she spat, trying to regain some of her dignity.

He smirked. “You were the biggest teacher’s pet of your grade, Roxanne. Nice try.”

“What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?”

“Read a book,” he said with a shrug and opened the door.

Oh she read a book all right. The book of his underwear drawer. And the storage totes under his bed. And the collection of worn old t-shirts in a forgotten zip up bag in the closet. And every framed photo and painting in the house, one of which contained a picture of him and the crew at her work the first time he was interviewed.

She remembered how insistent he was about getting it, glad-handing the caterers and gaffers and camera crew while she floundered between staring at him in awe of finally seeing him again after all these years, and sending him death glares just to let him know that she knew he was full of shit.

He made sure she stood next to him in the photo but otherwise did not recognize her. Or at least he pretended not to. She still wasn’t sure of that first time, even after all these years.

Interesting that he kept the photo framed in his bedroom. There were no pictures of family or friends. He looked so warm and friendly in that photo and yet had no evidence that he actually had anyone to be warm and friendly to outside of politics.

The library contained an immaculately carved stone chess set along with shelves of books. John mostly curated biographies, self help books (of the learn how to manipulate people variety), historical fiction, classics. Books meant to impress people. Only a small lower shelf by the couch contained well thumbed pulp sci-fi paperbacks, like the kind her dad collected.

She picked one up and read until she fell asleep on the couch.

John did not come back that night.

By the time he reappeared, over 24 hours later, Roxanne was moments away from going full crazy town banana pants. Nothing distracted her from her racing thoughts, not the books, not the TV with every streaming service known to man, not the heated outdoor pool on the rooftop terrace or second deliciously long hot bath in his tub.

“Fucking finally!” she cried as he stepped through the door and toed his shoes off. “What the hell took so long!”

“I would tell you but that might make you an accessory to murder,” he said.

She froze, stomach plummeting. “That’s a joke, right?”

“Have you eaten yet?” he asked instead.

“Don’t change the subject! Where the hell were you? What did you do?”

“I’ll tell you one thing I didn’t do and that was eat.”

He made his way to the kitchen and she marched after him, an annoying and persistent little gnat.

“Did you find anything out?”

He opened the freezer and pulled out a frozen lasagna.

“Preheat the oven to four fifty,” he said.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” she said, viciously punching the number into his ridiculous touch screen oven.

“I’m trying to gage how much more you will hate me after I tell you.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t hate you. I might want to strangle you a lot and see you in an orange jumpsuit for a little while, but I don’t hate you.”

He looked at her, cautious and solemn, reminding her powerfully of when she first met him. “You might start.”

A knot twisted in her gut. “You killed Erik, didn’t you?”

“Oh yes. With great pleasure.”

It almost didn’t sink in. Her mind tried desperately to deny it, crying liar at him, because he lied all the time, why not about this? But he didn’t even try to hide it.

“Why?”

“He stole from me and he used it to hurt you. Both were unforgivable.”

The admission that someone hurting her felt unforgivable to him sent her brain into overdrive trying to figure out the implications. It took her a moment to catch on to the the first part of what he said.

“What do you mean stole? What did he steal?”

He leaned across the counter, arms crossed, face impassive. Ready for a fight.

“The serum he used to take your powers -- I had it created some years ago. He took it from my labs to use against you.”

She felt dizzy, suddenly. Her pulse roared in her ears. “You made it?” she asked faintly.

He just looked at her.

“ . . .You. It came from you.”

God damn it, she really was as stupid and naive as he thought. She took shelter with him, thinking she knew the risks, because he was the one person not associated with the Agency or potentially in their pocket. He didn’t need them to have his own power. And yeah, he would definitely take advantage of her vulnerability for his own gain; she expected that.

She didn’t think he would be the cause of it.

How much of this was an elaborate mind game? Did he pay Erik to do this to take her out of commission? Did he kill Erik to keep his anonymity? Did he hedge his bets that she would seek him out for help rather than go on the run on her own?

How long did he intend to hold her hostage here? Was he going to kill her the moment she had her guard fully down, the moment after everyone reported her missing and assumed dead?

“Roxanne,” he said, taking a slow cautious step towards her. “That serum was not made for you. It was never intended for you. I did not set this up as a scheme to kill you.”

“It sounds exactly like something you would do,” she hissed, throat tight with unshed tears.

“I can’t deny that. But I had this serum for five years. Why would I wait until now to use it? Why would I embed myself in the Agency to do it when any of your fellow camera crew could have done the job? Think, Roxanne. I am a bastard, but I’m not stupid. This was a stupid, reckless plan.”

He made sense. He spoke logic. But that didn’t make it true. He had gotten his power through knowing exactly what to say to people to get what he wanted.

She wanted, very badly, for it to be true.

He took another step closer and the kitchen felt suddenly claustrophobic.

“Don’t,” she said, voice strangled. “Stay away! I just -- I need some air.”

She turned and ran.

In mid January the rooftop terrace was frigid. She had no coat. The cold air felt bracing, though, and it calmed her feverish thoughts. It brought clarity.

She could not hide from the fact that she might not love John, but she wanted to. She could, if she let herself. That she felt tied to him, responsible for him, all this time. That she understood why he clawed his way into a sense of power and safety through any means necessary even if she didn’t approve of them. She could not cast the first stone because she would probably not be any different in his shoes.

The thought that he had betrayed her like this felt unbearable. It literally made her sick, like her entire body rejected the idea. She forced herself to confront the possibility anyway. Because as much as she did care for John, she really couldn’t trust him to do anything that conflicted with his best interests.

And it was in his best interest to keep her powerless.

Of course, the real problem was that if he did betray her, there was fuck all she could do about it. He could be bluffing about hurting his own guards and their families, but she would never risk it. He lived on the top story of the building, so she couldn’t sneak her way down. If he had the money and ability to bribe Erik, who else in the Agency did he have in his pocket? She had no one else with resources to help her and she didn’t know who she could trust.

She had to give him the benefit of the doubt.

She had no other choice.

Part 6 here

#hero x villain #enemies to lovers #writeblr #my writing #a favor for a favor #dark villain

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siriannatan · 4 months

Text

Court of Ice and Fire - Chapter 2/3

Chapter 1 - Chapter 3

I finally got to finishing this chapter. It took entirely too long for what it is. I'll put all the blame on all the games I play updating around the same time and dropping masses of content…

While I find myself unable to write Scott being really mean to fWhip I can handle him being awkward with his emotions and approach to the whole situation :}

Scott could not offer him a 'no' nor a 'yes' but he did go to the healers for their expert opinion. And was back much faster than fWhip anticipated. With a basket of medical supplies. "They said a not too cold or hot bath is okay but I'll have to re-apply the healing salve and put new bandages on you. Or wait till tomorrow," he explained.

fWhip between the basket and Scott's hands for a second. Was he more comfortable not knowing how long was it since the last time he had a bath or Scott's hands on him? "I'm fine with you redoing all the bandages," he nodded, the itching was too much.

Somehow he ended up needing Scott's help. Raising his arms too high up was not a possibility and Scott was orbiting nearby anyway. He might as well be useful. And trapped. "Why not just leave my care to servants? I'm certain you have better things to do," he asked, almost melting as Scott carefully washed his hair.

"All matters of Rivendell that require my attention are settled," Scott's matter-of-fact tone would be annoying if fWhip wasn't feeling as relaxed as he was. "And it'd be rude of me to ignore a guest."

There it was again. 'Guest'. fWhip could almost believe it. If it weren't for the circumstances. And likely a hostile visit from Gem. If it was Gem and not just one of her wizards. Should he even ask about her? Probably better not to. Not like Scott would say anything. So instead fWhip just focused on the bath. And enjoying it for as long as Scott would let him stay in it.

It wasn't Scott that ended the bath but fWhip himself. His injuries started to hurt from not lying down properly for too long. Or whatever else made them hurt. He was no expert on medical stuff. He still had to get help from Scott but the elf was at least decent enough to let him cover himself before drying his hair. He even fully left. To get him a fresh change of clothes but still. fWhip would take anything that could make this feel at least slightly normal.

Scott was careful and meticulous as he applied the salve and bandaged fWhip. On his end, the count was feeling sleepier and sleepier. "What's happening to Grimlands now?" He was sure Scott said something earlier, but at this point, he was talking to stay awake.

"I basically cut it from the outside world, I apologize, but it seemed the best option without you in a state fit to oversee a country," as ever, right to the point. At least he wasn't sugarcoating it. "Once you feel good enough we can arrange for some of your paperwork to be sent here. Or whatever else you'd want to do," the elven king added as he finished the bandaging.

"I see," fWhip nodded and moved a bit. All the bandages seemed to be good. "All seems good," he voiced it. There was no way Scott was serious about giving him full independence or control of Grimlands.

"Good, I'll go then, let you rest," Scott seemed happy enough with the response.

"Why? This is your bedroom," fWhip hummed. He was nothing if not a nuisance. And especially when it came to Jimmy. He also happened to remember the way Jimmy looked at Scott back when the latter was in the Cod alliance. He'd be so angry if he knew where fWhip was. "And what if I feel worse during the night?" Some part - and not necessarily the petty side - wanted Scott to stay. Even if Jimmy would never know. Even if Scott likely had malicious intents to do with fWhip and Grimlands.

Maybe his dragon side was feeling clingy. Maybe he just didn't want to be alone. No matter which or why, he kept staring at Scott. At the way, his head tilted as he thought. "You're right, you might have trouble calling for help in the middle of the night," he shockingly agreed without much argument. Maybe he thought fWhip was planning to run in the middle of the night and was checking the security? Not that he wouldn't try at some point. For now, he could use Scott's intention for his own means.

fWhip fell asleep shockingly quickly and easily. Not like it was calm sleep. Scott could feel him toss and turn. To the point where the elf just gently grabbed and hugged him. In his defence, he was half asleep and has barely slept since intervening in Grimlands.

But nightmares still got to fWhip waking up suddenly. Sitting up with a shout. Looking around in the dark. "fWhip? Everything okay?" Scott yawned, sitting up, blindly reaching out for his 'guest'.

The was wild wind howling loudly outside. Shaking the heavy shutters on the windows.

fWhip took a few deep breaths. He had no idea what his nightmare was about. He felt like it had to do with his last day in Grimlands. But... "I think I'm good. Just a bad dream," he said with another slow breath. "I'm good," he repeated for good measure. "What's got the shutters..."

Scott shrugged. "Probably snowstorm. It's about time the first proper one rolled around. We're totally safe." How was he so calm about the absolute insanity that was likely happening outside? "Are you completely sure you're feeling okay?"

"Yes," fWhip assured, mostly himself. "My back hurts but I think it's mostly..." he froze as Scott's hand gently ran over his back. "...phantom pains, I think..." he mumbled in shock. What the heck was Scott planning? He was too tired to think. To play any games.

The rest of the night was calm. fWhip woke up a couple more times but managed to not wake Scott. The elf still held on tightly. Subconsciously stopping him from escaping. Not that fWhip was in the mood for that.

fWhip woke up, on gave up on trying to sleep anymore, with the first rays of sun hitting the window. When were the shutters opened? Were they magic? Gem often complained about how casual elves were with magic. At least the snowstorm was over.

He was slightly chilly. Mostly from the whole night of being held by Scott and his cold breath on his neck. But he didn't mind. It wasn't as bad as it could be. He was half-dragon, he would survive. And it kept him from falling asleep again as he tried to think up a way to free himself without waking Scott up.

As soon as he made up his mind to try moving, fWhip was in a blink of an eye on his back. Scott straddling him, cyan eyes wide, pale freckles sparkling in the morning sun. Did he always have those? One cold hand on fWhip's neck. Not tight enough to restrict breathing but dang cold. For a second they stared. Scott looked weirdly ethereal with his wings spread out and those shiny freckles. But then he opened his mouth.

"Sorry... I'm not used to sharing a bed," he stiffly apologised as he moved off of fWhip's stomach.

fWhip assured him he was fine and understood. He didn't really understand. Why would Scott's instinct be to choke anyone who wakes him up? For now, he ignored it. He himself had some weird instincts.

Scott wasted no time asking how he was feeling and getting him fresh clothes before sending a guard to get kitchen to get breakfast ready. fWhip got changed in the bathroom just to be safe. He waited for Scott to get ready and followed him silently. Trying to not yawn.

It was still rather early. Many guards and servants they massed would quickly hide their yawning as they passed. It was so different from fWhip's 'court'. He couldn't care less how his staff carried themselves near him as long as they did their jobs properly. This felt almost like the times he visited Mythland. How everyone almost jumped away from Sausage. At least Scott's staff didn't seem to be scared of him.

Breakfast was relatively simple. Bread, jam, cheese some weird elven oatmeal dish. Sweet tea and juice. No coffee. fWhip was ready to scream but held it in. It was obviously not part of elven culture. He'd survive without.

"Should I get a chef from Grimlands to cook for you?" Scott asked as fWhip poked the oatmeal thing. It was sweet, and full of small bits of fruit. Not too bad but not what fWhip would have. Where were potatoes and pork?

"I don't really care," fWhip shrugged. Why was Scott trying so hard to keep him happy? "I'm perfectly fine with elven food," he added, braving another spoon of the oatmeal. He could feel his teeth rotting.

Scott just nodded and moved to reports about damage caused by last night's snowstorm. From what fWhip understood it didn't cause too much damage but block roads with piles of snow and broken trees. At least no one got hurt. "I'll have to go and see all the damage, tradition, I think you should stay indoors. I can have someone show you to the library?"

"Can't I come along?" fWhip asked. He was not in a mood to spend the whole day indoors.

Unfortunately, neither Scott nor his healers approved so fWhip spend a big part of the day in the library. Supplied by maids with warm tea and cookies. If not for the constant presence of guards and check-ups with medics around mid-day he could forget he was pretty much a prisoner.

After dinner, he followed Scott to his meeting room where he listened to a boring conversation about winter preparations. Some upcoming festival. But he also heard that both 'old' WRA and Cod Alliance were putting pressure on Scott for isolating Grimlands from the outside world. Scott did put out a possibility of an Emperor's Meet. The Crown was with Katherine. Being neutral towards all involved parties she made for a great mediator.

Interestingly Scott assured fWhip he didn't have to attend if he didn't want to. And honestly. fWhip didn't feel like it. But it'd still be at least a couple of weeks before any meetings could happen. So for now fWhip was stuck. Unless he decided to run away but after half a day of thinking...

He didn't really have anywhere to go. So for now he was staying. Keeping a close eye on Scott and his actions and intentions.

For now.

#my stuff #my stories #empires smp #fanfiction #empiresshipping #empires fwhip #empires scott #Court of Ice and Fire

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forget-you-morelike-fuck-you · 2 years

Text

A Favor Or Two- S.H. Pt. 1

Y/N has been lying to her family so she can go do *nefarious activities* involving plants with one, Eddie Munson. When her parents invite her imaginary boyfriend to dinner, who better to ask to fill in than the prince of Hawkins High himself, Steve Harrington?

Masterlist

2 < 3 > 4 < 5

TW- Cursing, mentions of drugs, slow-ish burn, innuendo, fluff, angst

Pairings- Eventual Steve x Reader, Friend!Eddie x reader

Word Count- 2,512

(Gif not mine, credit to owner!)

You approach Steve confidently in the cafeteria, Robin spotting you first, her eyes widening slightly as you climb over the cafeteria bench with your lunch tray and sit next to him. “Harrington,” you turn to him.

He looks at you, brows furrowed. He never expected someone like you to approach him. Flannel tied around your waist, fishnet stockings poking through the big rips in your jeans, hair messy, deep red lipstick adorning your lips. What could you want with him?

He smiles awkwardly, deciding to be cordial. “Yeah, that’s me. What’s up… uh,” He doesn’t know your name, which is odd considering you’ve had multiple classes with him every year of high school, and even several throughout middle school.

“Really?” You sigh, rolling your eyes. “Y/N.” You offer. He nods, he knew it was something like that. “Listen, I have a proposition for you, if you’re interested in making some cash.”

He looks interested, his hand going to rub his chin. “Okay, what kind of proposition?”

You lick your teeth. It’s not every day you have to ask a favor of one of the kings of Hawkins High. An embarrassing favor at that. “So,” you begin. “here’s the deal. I’ve been lying to my parents a long time. I’ve been telling them I have a boyfriend so I can get away with being out more, usually to smoke weed. But now it’s been like three months, and they want to meet said boyfriend. So, if you want a home cooked meal and a big tip, I’d really appreciate if you could fill in so I can continue my nefarious extracurriculars.” You finish. His eyes widen in shock, out of the corner of your eye you can see Robin looks like a deer in the headlights watching the interaction taking place before her.

“So… you want me to be your fake boyfriend?” He clarifies, and you nod, lips pursed.

“Yeah, that’s the general idea. One dinner, then we should be scott free.”

“How much would you give me?” He asks, eyes narrow, considering the idea.

“Twenty bucks?” You shrug. He contemplates for a moment, all the while you’re becoming exasperated.

“Fine,” You roll your eyes. “If you don’t want to, just say so. I can ask someone else.” You move to get up from the bench before he says anything else.

“Wait, wait. I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it!” He exclaims, making you sit back down with a huff.

“So you will. Do it?” You ask, your eyes widening in genuine surprise.

“Sure. If,” He clarifies, “You can do me a favor.” You let out a sigh.

“What kind of favor?” You ask, almost afraid at the answer he’s going to give.

“You got a car?”

“Yeah.”

“Perfect.”

When four teenagers pile into your car after school, chattering with each other so loudly and so fast you can’t even understand what they’re saying, you look at Steve, who’s leaning on your window with a shit-eating grin.

“Hey, idiots!” He yells, and the kids all look at him expectantly. “Don’t be assholes. Y/N’s doing this as a favor.” You give Steve an annoyed smile at that. He turns to you, leaning down to talk to you, his arms crossed on the roof of your car.

“Sorry about them. I usually give them a ride but I had something come up today. I’ll see you at 7 tonight?” He asks. You’re meeting him at the park to come up with a cover story for your “star crossed romance” you know your parents will question you thoroughly on.

You nod, “Yep, sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

“Okay, thanks.” He turns to the kids again, “I mean it, don’t be little shits, got it?”

“Oh shut up, Steve!” They chorus. He pulls away from your car, patting the top and giving you a “good luck,” look before turning and walking away. You back your car out of the space and start driving.

“Why are you driving us, Y/N?” The pale, dark-haired one asks. Mike, you think.

“I’m doing Steve a favor because he’s doing me a favor. Said something came up and he can’t drive you home today.” You explain through gritted teeth. “So where am I headed?”

Mike directs you to his house and all 4 kids pile out, yelling their thank-yous before they slam the doors to your car. You let out a big breath, looking at your watch. It’s 4:30, so you’ve got some time before you need to meet Steve. You head home, parking about a block away, taking off your lipstick and eyeliner with a wipe, and brushing your hair out. You put the flannel back on over top of your Metallica t-shirt and shimmy out of your ripped jeans, swapping them for nicer ones. Your parents don’t know you run with the rockers at school, and they wouldn’t be happy to find out.

You drive the rest of the way home, parking in the driveway before slinging your backpack onto your back and running inside, where your mom is starting on dinner, peeling carrots. “Hey mom!” You smile at her, going to kiss her cheek.

“Y/N! How was school? Did you ask your boyfriend if he’ll come do dinner on Saturday?” Your brow starts to sweat.

“Yeah!” You exclaim. “He said he will definitely be here.” Your mom beams at you.

“Good! You know, Y/N, I don’t know why you’ve been keeping him such a secret. Are you afraid we’ll embarrass you or something? Or is he some kind of lowlife?” She gives you a pointed look, and you shake your head.

“He’s a good guy, mom, we’re just not super public yet. I haven’t met his parents either.” You confess. It’s not that much of a lie. You haven’t met Steve’s parents. “Which reminds me, I won’t be home for dinner. I’m going out with him tonight.” You tell her.

“Oh, where are you going? It’s a school night, so you know you can’t be out too late.” She finishes cutting the carrots she has on the cutting board before throwing them into the roaster, where a large piece of beef is sitting, moving onto some celery.

“We’re going to pick up a couple of burgers and park to study. We’ve got a big math test coming up next week.” You tell her before starting toward your room.

“Okay,” She yells after you, “just make sure you’re home by 10!”

“I will!” You promise as you open your bedroom door.

You flop your backpack onto the floor and sit at your desk to make a list of things Steve needs to know before Saturday. You hope he has time to remember it all over the next few days. And you hope he’s as nice a guy as he seems to be, because you’re going to have to tell him some rather embarrassing stuff to make this convincing.

When the clock hits 6:30, you gather your notes, breathing a sigh as you pack it up into your backpack. It’s getting chilly at night now that it’s early October, so you put a jacket on over your flannel. As you open your door, your 12-year-old brother comes barreling down the hall. “Hey, watch it, squirt!” You exclaim as he runs past.

“Is your boooyfrriendd really gonna be here on Saturday?” He asks tauntingly. You roll your eyes.

“Yeah, he’s coming.” You groan.

“Bet he’s as ugly as you, buttface. I won’t even be able to eat with all the ugly here!” He laughs. You resist the urge to punch him in his stupid pubescent face.

“He’s not ugly, you turd. He’s one of the most popular guys at school, and he’ll pound you into a pulp if I ask him to, so watch it!” You threaten. Your brother rolls his eyes.

“Bet you’re lying. I bet you don’t even have a boyfriend, and no one is gonna come on Saturday cause you’re such a loser!” You just ignore him and start down the stairs, letting him win this one. You’ll wait for Saturday when he sees his teen idol walk through the door. You should tell Steve to bring you flowers.

When you get to the park, Steve is already there, sitting at the picnic table shaking his leg. “Hey!” You greet him, swinging your leg over the bench to sit. He looks up and smiles at you.

“Hey, Y/N. You ready for this?” He asks, cracking his knuckles.

“I should be the one asking you that.” You scoff as you pull your list out of your backpack.

He points to it as you smooth it out in front of you. “What’s that?”

“It’s everything you need to know before Saturday. So let’s get started.”

“Wait, why do I need to know all of that?” Steve asks. “I thought this would just be a couple of key points, bing bang boom we’re done.”

“Come on, Steve. My parents are really nosy people, and they’re gonna ask a lot of questions. And you’re gonna need to know some shit about me if we want to make this convincing.” He rolls his eyes.

“Alright, alright. Let’s do this.” He says.

You pore over the list, figuring out your story for how you met, what drew you to each other, some favorite memories you have with one another, and then you start going over facts about each other, favorite foods, colors, sports teams in Steve’s case, and a bunch of other things just for contingency’s sake.

“Okay,” You’ve finally gotten through the whole list, so it’s time to start cementing it to memory. “We met..?” You let him finish.

“At the library. You dropped some books and I went to help you pick them up.”

“And…” You say expectantly, twirling your fingers around each other for elaboration.

“And…” He continues. “We smashed our heads into each other while we both reached for the same book.” You laugh. Now that’s what you call a meet cute.

“Great job. You ask me one.” You hand him the list and he peruses it, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. You pull your eyes away from his lips as he starts talking.

“Okay, uh, where was our first date?”

“Easy. We went to the movies. We went to see Gremlins.” You recall. He nods once.

“Perfect.” He looks up at you and hands the list back. “Your turn.”

You scan the list to find a good one. “Oh, what are my parents’ names?”

His eyes move to the side, trying to remember. “Uh… Rachel.” He remembers. “And… John?”

“Jim,” You correct. “How about my brother?”

“Peter.” He says. “Like Peter Parker. That one’s easy.”

“You into comics?” You smirk.

“Oh hell yeah. I love superheroes. Spiderman, the Hulk, Green Lantern, Batman… who doesn’t love them?” Steve exclaims.

You give another laugh. “I’ve never been super interested, myself, but I used to watch the Batman TV show when I was younger.” Steve throws his hands up in exasperation.

“You don’t know what you’re missing! You like books, right? Comics are just, like books, but shorter and action packed. I’ll have to let you borrow some sometime. In fact, I’ll bring one to school tomorrow. I’ll give it to you at lunch.” You roll your eyes, still smiling at his goofiness.

“Okay, okay, I’ll give it a shot, now let’s get back to the list.” You hand it back to him.

“Alright, keep your pants on.” He takes it, looking it over, the fingers of his free hand drumming against the table. He looks up at you once he finds his question, his eyebrow quirked. “What number am I on the basketball team?”

“Number… 18?” You guess.

“Oh, so close!” Steve says. “Just 8.”

“Got it,” You say, trying to commit it to memory. Steve hands the paper back to you. “What’s my favorite flower?”

“Sunflowers. Cause your favorite color is yellow.” He says confidently. You nod, impressed.

“Wow, two for one. You’re really getting to know me.” You praise him. He flips his hair a little bit.

“Well, you’re just so charismatic, how would I not want to know more?” He jokes. You both laugh. He’s making this a lot more fun than you were expecting. You hand the paper back to him.

“Where was our… first kiss?” He makes a kissy face at you, and you can’t help but feel a bit of warmth rush to your cheeks.

“It was after your first basketball game this year. You took the winning shot, and I was so proud I couldn’t help myself.” You sigh, acting like a fool in love.

Steve’s cheeks heat up now, making him bite the inside of his cheek as he smiles. “That is correct.” He concedes. “Okay, I think that’s about enough for now. It’s starting to get cold and I need a break. You wanna go grab a bite? I’ll drive. I can bring you back to your car when we’re done.” He offers.

You glance down at your watch, which tells you it’s just after 8:30. You didn’t realize so much time had passed. It’s getting dark. “Yeah, I think I can swing that.”

“Cool,” Steve says, handing the paper back. You figure you’ll go over a few more questions in the car, so you fold it up and zip your backpack, hoisting it onto your shoulder as you get up from the park bench. As you both start walking toward Steve’s car the paper slips out of your hand and onto the ground.

“Aw man, it rained yesterday.” You say.

“I got it,” Steve says, but you don’t catch in time. You clock heads as you both reach down to get it, both of you pulling away with a groan. “Aw, fuck.” He laughs, one hand on his head, the other holding the folded-up paper.

“Jesus, Steve. What do you have in that head of yours, fucking rocks?” You ask with a laugh. He holds the paper out to you, still rubbing the spot your heads collided.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You shrug as you take the paper, his fingers brushing yours.

“What does it sound like, Harrington?” You joke, chuckling as you finish.

“It sounds like you’re calling me dumb or something, L/N.” But he’s laughing, so it makes you feel better.

You tuck the paper in your pocket, both of you nearing his car. “I did tell my mom I was helping you study for the math exam next week.”

“Oh, okay,” He opens his door, “So you were calling me dumb.” He smiles. You shrug again.

“Can’t help it if you’re all brawn, no brains, prettyboy.” You get into the car with him, closing the door as he starts up the car. You hope the air gets warm soon.

“So, you think I’m pretty too?” Steve asks, and you feel your face flush with heat. So much for waiting on the heater. You roll your eyes. “You wish, Harrington.” You scoff as he pulls out of the park parking lot.

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #stranger thing s4 #eddie stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things 4 #stranger things

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