#apologies to Steven the pencil

[marlynnofmany]

Irrational Attachment

I directed the delivery guy to put the last high-tech crate next to the others in our very full cargo bay, and I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. This was a big order. I noted the final count with a good old-fashioned Earth pencil.

The delivery guy, a fellow human much beefier than I was, smirked at the pencil and clipboard. “Really living in the space age, there,” he said. “Don’t you guys have tablets and scanners?”

“Oh sure,” I replied. “But one has a cracked screen and the other's got a faulty battery. You know how it is.”

His response was eclipsed by the arrival of the sparkly purple conglomeration of limbs that was my coworker Zhee. I was used to bug aliens by now, but I was amused to see the brawny human edge back a step.

Zhee didn’t notice. “What is ‘pack bonding’?” he demanded, clicking to a stop and looking at the two of us expectantly. “They were telling jokes that made little sense.” He waved a pincher arm over his shoulder. “Then it occurred to me that I have a pair of qualified humans here I can ask. Why do people joke about humans caring too much?”

The delivery guy straightened up, all bluster. “Oh, it’s a bunch of radiator wash, really. Lots of species are social. Really, we wouldn’t all have space ships out here if everybody couldn’t cooperate!”

“Well, sure,” I said. “But there’s a difference between cooperating and getting attached. Didn’t you have a teddy bear as a kid?”

“Yeah, as a kid,” he scoffed. “We’re talking about grownups here.”

“Grownups do it too,” I told him, barreling on as he started to object. “We give names and personalities to ships and cars and space probes. We put googly eyes on machinery, and keep pet rocks. We build people out of snow, lending them our own clothes, and we’re sad when they melt away. We have ancient history of granting a bear military rank, and recent history of doing the same to a cleaning droid. We care about things.”

He was still shaking his head and looking stubborn, so I pulled the pencil from my pocket. I held it in front of his face with an intense stare.

“I can tell you that this pencil’s name is Steven,” I said. “Then I can do this—” I snapped it in half. “—And I can watch a little bit of you die inside.”

His expression was that of a person shaken to his core. “What the f— Why would you do that??”

I looked down at the broken pencil. “You can’t tell me humans don’t care.”

Zhee clicked a pincher. “But it’s just a pencil.”

“It was,” I said. “Now it’s Steven.” I pulled a roll of tape from a different pocket. “And now I have to nurse him back to health and apologize.”

~~~

The ongoing backstory of the main character in this book. No pencils were (permanently) harmed in the creation of today's story. 

#my writing #the Token Human #humans are weird #pack bonding #when everything is friend-shaped #apologies to Steven the pencil #I got that bit from a gifset of a show I don't watch #it was Memorable #I've been wanting to use it in something ever since #and it's a perfect example of claiming an inanimate object as Part Of The Pack #haso #hfy #humans are space orcs #aliens #eiad #also I'm aware that the proper word for mantis arms is 'pincer' not pincher #but I maintain that it's a stupid word #and the narrating character agrees with me #they're pinchers #they pinch #and the etymology says it's the same root word anyways #so nyah #take that spellcheck #rant over

[eekshade]

Muse

Steve Rogers x m!reader

Word Count: 1605

Warnings/Info: pre-serum Steve, art school Steve, no pronouns used so could be read as a gn!reader, flustered Steve <3, reader goes through Steve’s sketchbook w/out permission but Steve’s okay with it (just embarrassed), was slightly inspired by that one scene in atsv

Steve was currently anxiously pacing around your apartment, looping through the kitchen to wrap around the couches in a large figure eight path. He was in a deranged panic as he ranted about his upcoming finals, not only were finals a stressful time in general but Steve was also in, according to him, the worst art block he’s ever been cursed with.

“Steve.” You try to gently call out to him for the second time, he (again) doesn’t seem to hear you because he continues to make his way to the kitchen in order to restart his pathway.

“Steven, just-,” you grab his shoulders as he walks by where you were standing; forcing him to look at you, “stop for a second.” It came out a bit harsher than you meant but at the very least he was finally still.

“What?” He says, his voice a fine mix between annoyance and embarrassment, as he attempts to shrug off your hands, a blush dancing across his cheeks. You pull your hands back and mutter an apology.

“Instead of storming around, how about we sit down and take this step by step.” You offer and he quickly walks to the main couch while nodding softly, mostly to himself.

You sit down next to him, placing a hand on his knee, ”How much time do you have before it's due?” You ask in a tone one would take when talking to a crying child, soft and quiet; almost a whisper.

“Around three weeks.” He sighs, scooting closer to you (silently praying you won’t notice).

“Alright…” You break eye contact in favor of looking around the surfaces of the furniture, “That’s enough time, I believe.” You stand having found what you were looking for.

“Here’s the plan, let's try and get you some motivation before anything.” You grab his sketchbook off of the small dining table that sat across the room.

“What do you mean?” He asks cautiously, watching the way your hands grip the book when you walk back over to him.

“I think you should start with something you find easy, to lull yourself back into it.” You sit beside him once again, closer than before, “What do you find easy to draw?”

“I don’t really know…” He laughs sadly, “Everything sounds too hard right now.”

“That’s fine, we could just flip through and see what you draw the most.” You smile at him, causing his heart to melt; distracting him from what you had just said.

“Wait, god no, birds!” He yelped the second he processed what you had just said, “I could draw birds.” He tried to reason, but it was a moment too late.

You opened the book to a random page only to be met with a portrait of you cooking a stew for him while in his kitchen, presumably from when he was sick. He nervously watched your face, the fear of you hurting him (emotionally and/or physically) left as fast as it came, once he saw the small smile that was etched on your face as you gently traced your fingers along his pencil strokes.

You turned to look at him, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, but any plan on saying something was abruptly taken from you at the sight of him, his face was mere inches from yours, biting his lower lip rather harshly, blush burned onto his cheeks, already staring at you. You try not to linger on the butterflies going on a mini rampage in your stomach, you quickly turn back to the sketchbook and flip the page. The next page only makes you smile more, it shows you again on both pages, this time you seem to be from his memory.

The page is flipped again to show you and Bucky laughing while playing cards with his sisters, you flip the page once more to reveal you reading with a dog laying on your legs. Laughing under your breath; the realization finally hitting you. You go to try and flip the page one more time, you wore a knowing smirk, that only grew when Steve snatched the book from your lap. You look at him but he won’t look back at you, his eyes glued to the sketchbook that sat on his lap, you laugh at his bashful demeanor.

“I’m sorry, this is weird - you just - sorry.” He fumbles over his words, after a small moment of consideration he leans forward and shoves the book into his bag, which sat on top of the coffee table.

“Wait Steve, it's okay.” You softly take his hands into your own, gently dragging him back down to where he was before.

He looks at you sadly, “God, I really am sorry.” You look at him with pure admiration and slight pity for making him so panicked.

“Please don’t look at me like that.” He whines, he breathlessly looks down at your lips for a second so brief you almost missed it.

“Like what?” You ask, eyes drilling into his.

“Like it's okay.” He whispers.

“It is.” You smile at him, “You're an artist, I can’t get mad at you for making art.” Your voice gets louder (although you're still not talking at full volume) and you lean back an inch or two at most and let go of his hands; trying to make sure you aren’t misreading the situation.

You laugh and run a hand through your hair, trying to make him comfortable again, “So, what, do you want me to pose?” You laugh at your own joke, which causes him to laugh along with you.

“Alright so, what’s it really about though?” You ask calmly while fidgeting with your hands not knowing where to put them.

He quickly stops laughing and gets flustered - not nearly as much as before, “Oh well y'know, it's kind of hard to explain without sounding like a creep.” He averts his eyes from you.

“I give you my permission to sound like a creep.” You smirk at his eye roll.

“That means so much, thank you.” He replied sarcastically, finally meeting your eyes.

“Anytime, Rogers.” You say with a wink, you notice he blushes a bit at that. “Well, go ahead.”

“You really wanna know?” He appears to have gotten more comfortable with the conversation.

“Yes! Of course I do.” You exclaimed exasperated.

“Okay - well, I think you have a good…like body.” He sounds unsure, he pauses for a few seconds to think, you open your mouth to make a joke but he cuts you off, “No, wait! Just please let me finish before you say anything, okay?” You nod.

He takes a deep breath, “You’re like my muse, I don’t think I’m using that right.” He laughs, “I mean, before I do an actual piece I need to warm up, and in order to do that, I typically draw you and sometimes Bucky.” He seems to throw that last part in half-heartedly.

“I think it's because I’m around you so much, it's just easy to properly capture you, you and Bucky.” He added.

You stare at him quietly with a smug smile.

“I’m done. Please say something.” He whines out nervously.

You lean forward, your foreheads now touching, “And Bucky?”

“Yeah, of course, you just ended up on a bad few pages is all.” He defends himself very quietly, you smile at the attempt.

His eyes keep flickering between your eyes, lips, and hands, not bothering to hide it anymore. “Steve,” you say, making his eyes stop moving for a moment to keep them on yours. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?” He whispers so quietly you almost miss it.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask breathlessly.

“Yes, god, please.” He quietly whimpered.

You grab his jaw and finally push your lips against his, you bring one of your hands to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging, this pulls out a soft moan from him, your teeth clashing together. It’s a bit of a mess but neither of you care. He whines as you pull away from him to catch your breath, you look at him as he sits beside you; lips red and wet, soft pants coming out from behind them, eyes glossed over, cheeks dusted pink. He looks back at you, with an almost sad look on his beautiful face.

“Are you okay?” You rest your forehead on his once again.

“No.” He admits, “I don’t think I am.”

“Why?” You look down and take his hands into yours, playing with his fingers slightly, before locking them together.

“Because I don’t know what this means.” He sighs and his eyes are glued onto your interlocked fingers.

“It can mean whatever you want.” You look into his eyes, “I’ll be right here with you.”

He smiles warmly at you while keeping those sad puppy dog eyes, he leans in and pecks your lips. It was short but long enough to feel his emotions vividly through it. He lets go of your hands and leans back, for a second you fear he didn’t mean it, but he then grabs his bag off the table and pulls the sketchbook and a pencil back out of it, then flipping to a new page.

He turns to you, “Is your pose offer still open?” He looks at you brightly.

“Of course it is.” You laugh and strike the most dramatic pose you could pull off.

“I love it.” He laughs warmly, he hesitates briefly before grabbing your limbs and face, posing you how he pleases. “You're perfect.” He mutters as he starts his rough draft.

| MARVEL MASTERLIST |

#steve rogers x m reader #male reader #steve rogers x male reader #40s steve rogers x male reader #captain america x male reader #mlm fanfic #marvel x male reader #pre serum steve #pre serum steve x male reader

[marksbear]

could you write a dom male reader or an oc x marc spector? They have one teen son (adopted or fostered) and maybe another younger son and the kids are chaotic but they all love each other. Marc still has DID so steven and jake have appeared in the past and sometimes still do but since he feels safe and happy its a rare happening and the reader or the oc have autism? The sons love to bicker but the older son is very protective of his whole family and maybe the youngest son gets bullied at school so the oldest steps up and beats the crap out of everyone including an asshole parent :] and marc and the male reader were at home finally having an off day alone and things were getting steamy untillllll the school calls them 🙈

Took me a minute to write this, but nonetheless I hope you still enjoy it! I hope I wrote everything that you asked sorry if not! I love writing stuff for dad reader it's so fun!

Os/n= Older son name.

S/n= Son name.

Warning! Cussing, Lemon/spicy, making out, school fight, badass son, detailed fight, blood mentioned, shoving, pushing, stomping, punching. Laid back dads!

Dom Dad dilf reader x Dad Marc spector

Marc wakes up slowly from all the noise and yelling from outside his bedroom. Marc peaks open his eyes looking to the side of him.The spot on the bed was empty and still warm. Marc sits up and stretch’s his body. After a while Marc stands up from the bed walking outside of his bedroom.

Marc steps into the living room and looks around.

His youngest son S/n was on the floor drawing as his older brother beside him messing with him.

“Dad!! Os/n keeps messing with me!” The younger son shouts putting his pencil down before pushing Os/n away from him.

“Os/n! Stop messing with your brother.” Y/n shouts back from inside the kitchen.

“I’m not even messing with you stop being a crybaby!” Os/n says rolling his eyes.

“Hi dad!” S/n says greeting Marc with a smile while Marc does the same “Hi kid.” Marc says going over to him and crouches down messing up his hair.Marc turns to his side looking at his oldest son and reaches out his hand ruffling his hair.

“You boys come eat alright.” Marc says one last time before getting up going inside the kitchen. Marc stares at Y/n watching as he put the food on the plates.

“Need any help?” Marc asks moving forward to Y/n. “Nahh… I got it.” Y/n answers before turning his head around.

“Good morning! I woke up very early.” Y/n says putting the last plate of food down and moves closer to Marc wrapping his arms around him.

“Good morning, and why didn’t you wake me up then after you woke up?” Marc questions with a raise brow.Y/n doesn’t answer only closing the distance between them kissing Marc deeply on the lips. Marc melts into the kiss moving both of his hands to Y/n’s shoulders.

Y/n moves his hands on Marc’s hips brining him close. Marc ruts his hips into Y/n’s crotch as they makeout.

“Ahem!” Os/n clears his throat as he covers his little brothers eyes.

The two adults pull away from each other looking at the teenager.

“Sorry kid.” Y/n apologizes letting go of Marc’s hips and turns back around getting the plates of food.Os/n moves his hand away from his little brothers eyes and follows his dad into the dinning room.

Y/n puts the plates on the table waiting for everyone else to be in their seats before sitting down.

As the family eat S/n rambles on to his family about his latest school project. “A-and also that my teacher says that I may win 1st place!”

“No one cares S/n” The oldest son blurts out teasingly rolling his eyes as well. “Shut up!” S/n responds back shoving his brother a little.Marc only rolls his eyes at the kids antics and continues eating as his husband Y/n pick and stare at his food.

“You guys are gonna miss the bus if y’all keep arguing and not eating.” Y/n says randomly with a smirk. The boys stared at their father thinking to themselves.

“Your dad’s right, I’m pretty sure the bus is already in the neighborhood.” Marc adds before standing up.

The boys scramble to their feet rushing out of the dinner table going straight to their rooms to get their things.Marc laughs at the sight and starts to make the boys their lunch putting it in their bags.Y/n still is at the dinner table finishing his breakfast before anything.

Os/n is done first picking up his bag back and stands by the door waiting for his brother. “S/n! Hurry up before I leave you!” Os/n shouts tapping his foot impatiently.

S/n rushes out his room trying to fix his hair as he scrambled to put his bag back on.Os/n opens the door pushing S/n out before turning to his parents. “Bye dads!” Both boys says at the same time. Both parents wave off their sons watching them leave.

Once the boys were on their way to the bus stop Marc shuts the door and turns around to Y/n.

“You didn’t have to lie to them.” Marc says with a light chuckle walking back to his seat at the breakfast table.

“ I know… I just wanted us to have some alone time. And especially when we adopt a new baby.” Y/n says with a smile reaching out his hand to Marc’s thigh.“We’re gonna need all the time we can get. Even if that means lying to our kids about the bus almost being here.” Y/n adds in leaning in close to kiss Marc.

Marc closes the distance kissing Y/n on the lips passionately.

Y/n melts in the kiss standing up slowly from his chair as Marc does the same. Marc leans against the table as Y/n is in front of him holding onto his waist. Marc sits on the edge of the table wrapping his legs around Y/n’s hips.

Y/n wraps his arms Marc’s lower back holding him tight and close.

TIMESKIP

It was in the middle of the day of school only a few more class periods left and they’ll be done with the day.

Os/n walked around the halls with his friend group going to their next destination.

“And I’m telling you guys she was so fucking hot—“ Os/n gets cut off by bumping into someone.

“The fuck? What the hell.” Os/n breathes out looking around looking at the large crowd he just bumped into.

As Os/n and his friends push past the crowd trying to see what’s going on Os/n heat drops.

S/n bag back and his things were scrambled around the floor.

“Hey Os/n isn’t this your brothers bag?” One of his friends questions as she picks up the bag back and some of its stuff.

Os/n only tunes her out and feeling more determined to figure out what’s going on he pushes people out of his way.

“Get out of my way!” Os/n shouts pushing and shoving people.

Os/n steps in the middle of the circle of the source.

Os/n’s hands closes into a tight fist as his knuckles turns white.

S/n was on against the locker tears running down out of his eyes as kids no doubly bigger than him push and hit him.

Os/n drops his bag back running up to the group of guys grabbing onto the nearest guy shoulder spinning him around and punching him square in the face.

With the new found adrenaline Os/n moves around the boys fighting every single one of them.

Os/n fist flared around punching the boys where it would hurt the most.

As S/n leaned against the locker weakly as he watch his brother fight like hell.

Even though Os/n was clearly out numbered he still fought hard and clearly winning.

Once their was only one man left probably the leader Os/n pounced on him tackling him to the ground as he punch him in the floor repeatedly.

His hits were repeatedly aimed at the face and head even sometimes yanking the boy by his hair and slamming his head back down. Os/n fist were bruised and bloody as he punch the boy again and again. Os/n was on a rampage as he got off the boy and kicked him dead in the stomach.

As teachers run to the scene Os/n fights the boys who got back on their feet sending them back on the ground.

Finally once S/n went back to reality he pushed himself off the lockers and runs to his brother pulling him away as well as the teachers.

The kids who was recording and the others ran away the scene screaming and talking about it.

Teachers quickly pull Os/n and S/n out of the crowd and straight to the office.

TINY LITTLE TIMESKIP.

Both brothers sat side by side inside the front office waiting to be called in.

A parent probably one of the boys Os/n messed up was inside the office walked back and forth stressed.

“Is my boy going to be okay!?! I mean have you saw what that monster did to his face!” The parent screamed having no clue that the monster he’s talking about was in the same room.

“Sir please calm down—“ One of the staff says but gets cut off by the dad again.

“Calm down!?! How do you expect me to clam down especially knowing that some monster fought my kid! I swear to god if I meet that boy’s parents I swear! Who is that boys parents? Animals!?! Because obviously they aren’t real ones.”

The dad exclaims catching Os/n attention.

S/n side eyes looking at his older brothers pissed off face already knowing what’s going to happen.

“Hey asshole! What did you just say about my parents?” Os/n questions with a shout standing up from his chair. “Usually I don’t ask questions, but this time I wanna hear you say it.” Os/n adds walking closer to the parent unfolding his arms.

“So your the boy who stared all of this… Wow I can’t believe you or your idiotic parents—“ the man gets cut off by a fist swinging out out no where connecting to his cheek.

The father head turns to the side in pain and shock.

Os/n wastes no time to punch the man right in the stomach causing the man to hunch over. Os/n hand reaches out to the back of the man’s head grabbing onto his hair tightly before slamming it onto the wall.

Immediately staff pulls Os/n back as S/n grabs both of their things following them into a different room.

Once the adults left the room so it’s only the brothers in there S/n begins to panic.

“What if we get in trouble! Dads are gonna be so pissed! What if you get in jail!—“ S/n nervously blurts out but gets cut off by a pair of arms hugging him tightly.

In the room only soft sniffles could be heard as Os/n cry’s softly onto his brother. “I-I was so scared for you… I’m sorry that I wasn’t there fast enough.” Os/n says weakly as the guilt settles.

“W-were not gonna get in trouble alright. So don’t be scared alright dork.” Os/n says giving S/n a light kiss on the head.

WITH Y/N AND MARC

“Ohh!~ fuck Y/n!~ Hurry up and give it to me!~” Marc moans out as he laid on the bed legs out spread. Y/n held onto Marc’s thighs as he slowly moved the tip of his cock inside of Marc’s hole.

*Ring!!*

The men look away from each other at the phone of the dresser.

“Ignore it!~ HmMm please!~” Marc moans out as he grinds his ass against Y/n’s cock.“You know I can’t.” Y/n responds back rolling his eyes a little before reaching out to the night stand picking up the phone.

“Hello?” Y/n questions as he uses his free hand to jerk Marc off.

“Yes I am their father…” Y/n answers giving Marc a worried look.

“Mhm. Uhm yes I’ll be there with my husband.” Y/n says hanging up the phone.

“School called… And Os/n got into a very serious fight. They even said he fought a kids dad.” Y/n let’s go of Marc’s cock and moves off the bed walking into the closet getting clothes for the both of them.

“Looks like we’re gonna have to continue this later.” Marc says getting up from the bed.“Yeah… sorry.” Y/n apologizes as he puts underwear and pants on.

Marc cups Y/n face in his hands smiling at him.

“It’s not your fault Y/n…” Marc says giving Y/n a light kiss.

TIMESKIP

Marc and Y/n walked inside the office looking around for their kids.

Y/n takes a mental note of how messed up a group of boys and even a man looks.

“Fuck Os/n” Y/n thinks to himself before looking at the principles. The principles able gestures the man inside. With one last look at each other Marc and Y/n steps inside the office.

“Sorry if you two were busy.” The principles says looking at the both of them. Y/n shakes his head no with a smile taking a seat by Os/n as Marc sits by S/n.“The woman on the phone already gave me a run down about what’s going on so could we just go straight to the chase.” Y/n says as Marc talks to their sons getting their side of the story.

“We’ll witness says that S/n was getting bullied and his brother came and saved him, so the punishment won’t be to bad—“

“Punishment? You just said it yourself my son was getting bullied and his brother came and save him since everyone else wasn’t doing anything.” Y/n cuts off the man.

“I know Mr L/n, but there’s no excuse as to why Os/n fought an adult.”

“Because he was talking shit about me and my family!” Os/n exclaims.

“Can’t we just negotiate a reasonable punishment for my son and the other kids please.” Marc says as Y/n agrees. “If that what you’d two like to do.”

“Yes we’ll like that a lot.” Y/n says before adding “Could we host a meeting tomorrow here. It will be easier to talk to all the parents since some is probably working now.”

The principle nods and types in his computer probably documenting this.

“Well then… See you tomorrow. Nice talking with you and please tell the father that my son fought that I say my deepest apologies.” Marc says with a fake nice tone before standing up with the rest of his family leaving.

Once the family is leaving the school and at the parking lot waking to the car Marc breaks the silence.

“So I see you used some of my moves huh?” Marc teases looking at Os/n

“No! I was using my own moves you should had saw!”

THE END

#marc spector x male reader #marc spector x reader #marc spector #moonknight x male reader #moon knight #marvel x reader #marvel x male reader #x male reader #x dad reader #x Dilf reader #male reader #x dom reader #x dom male reader #the bear club

[lunathebee]

[11:02]

Ok guess what I'm back with another sad sopping stuff and it's still about Steven, can I call this a drabble?

Y/n is Steven's lover, and she struggles with making friends at work. When she thought she was doing a good job, reality hits her in the face.

It was a Saturday morning and Y/n had forgotten about an important meeting, her brain tricking her into thinking it was a normal day, and by the time she realized it, it was too late.

But the thing that made Y/N sad wasn't her boss being mad; it was her co-worker.

"You aren't in the meeting this morning?" A woman in a beige pencil skirt said, holding a cup of coffee in her hand. She seems surprised when Y/n is having a breakdown over the meeting.

"I- I don't know, I DO know there would be a meeting, somehow I- I forgot?!"

"Well, you should tell the boss" The woman said before leaving to get back to her seat, pretending to be busy with the paperwork.

Y/N has no choice but to also take a seat and quickly type an apology message to her boss. After hitting the send button, she doesn't have the energy or motivation to finish the work anymore.

===

"Love! You're home early" Steven said when Y/N walked through the front door, but his joy quickly turned to concern when he noticed she had been crying."Did something happen?..."  

Y/n doesn't say anything back; she just slowly sits down and holds her knees close to her chest before starting to cry loudly. This of course makes Steven's worries skyrocket, and he quickly rushes to her side to see what's wrong.

"Love, hey hey why are you crying?" The British man held onto Y/n's hand, the warmth from his hand making her calm down a bit, but not enough to stop her from crying.

"Do..Do you think people hate me Steven?"

"What? No, who would hate you?"

Y/n wiped her tears with the jacket's sleeve; it already had a big wet patch now. "My coworkers, whom I have known for more than three years. Do you think they hate me?"

Y/n doesn't wait for Steven to answer; she continues to speak. "Today I have an important meeting, and... it was my fault; I forgot about it somehow, but it was a two-hour meeting, and no one texts me, or calls me, or whatever... they don't even notice I wasn't there."

Steven's heart clenched at Y/n's words. His lover is like the sun; she is warm-hearted and always trying her best. Steven never failed to notice her presence; how could he? And yet here she is, talking about herself like she's just a dull piece of rock or a puddle of mud.

"Oh...love-"

"I WORKED WITH HER, I ATE LUNCH WITH HER, I CHATTED WITH HER; I have done everything, I thought she was my friend! ..." Y/n suddenly feels angry and frustrated; she doesn't realize her voice is so loud Steven was taken back.

"And not just her, NOBODY noticed I wasn't at the meeting; all the co-workers... STUPID, this workplace is a goddamn PAIN" She threw her suitcase across the room; it made a loud slam when hitting the floor before sliding under the table.

Steven cringed at the sound before turning his attention back to Y/n, her face full of dry and wet tears, her eyes puffy and red, not to mention her nose too.

"Love, I know you have tried your best, and if someone can't realize that, it's their fault, not yours" Steven stopped for a moment to look at Y/n's reaction, making sure she was listening to him. "There are still people who are worth your love and kindness, people that you can trust to be friends with"

Y/n bites her lips to stop herself from crying, and she lets Steven hug her afterwards, listening to him rant about fun Egyptian facts before dozing off to sleep in his embrace.

"Take some rest, darling. I love you" Steven brushed off the strain of hair on Y/N's face before giving her a small kiss, admiring the subtle smile on her face.

#whew okay #steven grant x reader #steven grant x y/n #steven grant x you #steven grant my beloved #moon knight imagine #moon knight x reader #drabble #the moon boys #the moon boys x reader #moon knight drabble

[jack-is-a-self-decided-skrunkly]

I have changed my mind about deboning the Steven. I’m instead gifting him an apology Mac and cheese and a sparkly pink miniskirt. He must wear this. Or the consequences will occur. *Draws pencil*

"i-i..-???"

#look henry! steven's in a miniskirt! #dsaf steven

[badmirvcle]

DRAGONSLAYER [Chapter 1]

Word count: 2k 

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader / Y/N

Genre(s): Strangers to friends, Friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn

Warnings:  Strong Language, Suggestive Language, Sexual Themes (The Usual)

 || MINORS DNI || 

Summary: A hot summer in Hawkins, an intimate art project and two people with way too much sexual chemistry walk into a bar. Mutual pining ensues.

It’s summer in Hawkins and everything is humming. The beating of wings outside the humid classroom’s window, the soft thrum of a bus engine outside, the Munson boy’s foot tapping rhythmically against the sticky floor tiles.

For the past 20 minutes you’d been stuck in a constant loop of tuning into Mrs Samson’s voice, trying your hardest to ascertain the details of your super important end of term art project, to subtly matching the steady rhythm coming from his ragged sneakers with your pencil against your cheek - rinse and repeat. 

“It’s really up to you kids how you wanna go about this - the work has to equate to 10 hours, whether you decide to take your projects home and do them there or if you’d prefer to use the studio space here. Either way, I want to see your best efforts. Go off, go wild, find inspiration and bring back 3 portraits of your partners, different art styles if you please - as long as they tell me a story. If you want to write a little something to accompany them, by all means - go crazy.”

Now you were listening.

Harrington is the first to raise his hand. A surprise, he’s usually as mentally present as you were during Samson’s class - always too busy whispering to a girl or fixing his hair to impossible heights in the reflection of the glass windows. 

“Sorry, did you just mention partners? So this is a uh, a group project or?-”

“So glad you asked, Steven. I was just getting to the fun part. Talk amongst yourselves, hunt down a muse. Everyone is present today, by some miracle - so there should be an even split, every person in the room should be able to find a buddy.”

 Her eyes openly flicker to the hyperactive metalhead’s ever-rattling desk for a moment.

 “Just save me a headache and figure it out by the end of the week? It’s Wednesday, so 3 days should be enough. Got it? Good. Best of luck to you all.” She keeps her tone lighthearted as a foot knocks against the rocker’s desk leg to silence it. 

“Apologies, Mrs S. I’m a slave to the rhythm y’see.” The throws a juvenile but charming grin her way for style points. 

The senior Master of Arts shakes her head and allows an amused sigh to slither from her nostrils before making her way to her desk again, picking up where she left off and continuing to drone on through the rest of the project’s bullet points. 

You’ve only got 2 classes with the guy, yet you had to admit it was nice to see a teacher almost play along for once - like you wanted to. Wasn’t his fault that his joy was loud. And infectious. 

You, on the other hand, were currently allowing the new information to settle into your brain and sink heavily to the bottom of your stomach with dread. 

You fucking hated working in pairs. 

It was awkward, you didn’t like to share your ideas in fear of judgement and generally, you preferred the lone wolf route to passing grades. Anyone who says differently is an absolute fucking sociopath.

The remainder of the hour flashed by you like this, stewing away in your misery - faced toward the window, brows furrowed with nothing behind your eyes as your stomach turned at the possibilities of who might approach you when the bell rang. Or even worse, who you’d have to approach. So deep in your distressed daydreams, you barely notice the shrill, drilling ring signalling you all to get up to either leave or briefly discuss who you’d be in your shared suffering with. 

Anxious eyes zipping back and forth along the rows of desks, you frantically attempt to locate the singular person you could call a friend in the room - Steve. Picturing the two of you losing your minds over the caricatures you’d create of one another had given you some hope for fun - which was immediately crushed as you watched Kelly Hawthorne basically magnetise to his side as you stood like an idiot, mid-stride. 

Great. Made sense, she’d been making googoo eyes at him for weeks now - despite his reluctance to acknowledge it. You shared a look of exasperation with him from across the room as he shrugged his shoulders in defeat, mouthing a brief ghost of an apology, putting on his best attempt at watery puppy eyes - earning an irritated scoff from you.

 Like fuck was he sorry, he’s probably gonna do a little dance about it when you meet up to go home later. Asshole. 

Deciding this was a problem for another day, you’re sleepwalking from one class to the next, not really focusing on anything in particular. 

3 hours later you’re at lunch. You’d blinked and suddenly you were seated at your usual spot, between Robin and Nance - picking the crust off of your already dry sandwich. 

“Sooo, Steve mentioned some art thing you guys gotta do for Samson’s class? What’re you doing this time - finger painting, paperclip sculptures, tasteful nudies in the woods?” 

Ignoring the subtle dig at your favourite subject, you decide to play along.

“Ha-ha, Rebel Buckley. We should be so lucky, it’s actually somehow more erotic than that.”

“Oh? Suddenly I’m actually kinda interested, please do go on sweet thing.” 

“I’ve gotta spend 10 hours staring at some schmuck’s mug, probably making a whole lot of sensual eye contact, maybe a cheeky hand finds its way onto my knee as the sun sets next to us and I notice some gold in their eyes. We lean in slowly, they brush some stray hair behind my ear and we-”

“-Uhuh, uhuh. That’s all sooo obscene or whatever, but for real - I already have Steve on my ass just begging me in the absolute most pathetic way you’ve ever seen... to teach him how to use a pencil.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“Tempting. But I absolutely am not fucking with you, baby.”

By the time you’re done going over the semantics of the task at hand with Robin, her attention was fully enraptured by Nancy and Steve’s bickering over whether her blouse was cyan or teal. Not at all interesting, but Robin just liked to ramble, so you allowed her to indulge and focused back on your now- completely stale lunch.

Examining the ensemble around you, you're overwhelmed by a sea of faces and potential subjects for your masterpiece. Ah ,except, your options were in fact limited to your classmates. Flicking a piece of sandwich crust at Steve’s head, you’re panicked as you ask him the million dollar question of who was left - just how finite were your options now?

“Weeeelllll. I saw Hargrove manspreading alone when I was packing up my shit, Kelly said her friend Graham was still looking and then there’s uh - Manson?”

“-Munson.” You bite. 

“Right. Yeah, him. Sooo, looks like you’re with 'Graham-Cracker'. Mind the dust on his sweater, it's dandruff - not crumbs.” 

“You’re kidding.”

“’Fraid not. Well, I mean. Unless you wanna claim the freak and somehow manage fail an art class.”

Nothing against the guy, but Steve made a point. The chances of seeing Eddie Munson within the walls of the school was as likely as a bigfoot sighting. 

His brows crease together as he considers something for a moment before speaking up again. 

“Hey, Hargrove’s an asshole but at least he’s sorta pretty, righ-”

“-I’d rather chainsaw my own head off, thank you.”

“Gotcha.” He concedes while trying to picture the logistics of your threat, rolling his eyes and angling his body back toward the raised voices and erratic hand motions of the girls beside you. 

It’s your final class of the day and it’s History. With Eddie Munson and Billy Hargrove. What fine choices. Your eyes had been darting between the two boys for 15 long minutes now - undoubtedly, you’d be doing this for the remaining 45 without coming to a final decision. Yeah, sure. Billy was very pretty - all enviably long eyelashes and ocean eyes but he was also a filthy little letch and not one that you wanted in your bedroom for after-school study buddy time. 'Graham - Cracker' it was then you’d decided, begrudgingly. 

“M’sorry. You got a pen I can borrow? Mine sorta exploded in my pocket and I don’t have another, I mean why would I? Who needs pens right? Ha- uh well actually me, right now I guess, shit.”

Disinterested lids rise to meet manic chestnut, your mind not registering who it is in the moment - too distracted by the close proximity of such a pleasing shade of amber reflecting your own bewildered expression. 

“Manson-” You blurt out. Damn, Steve had gotten into your head.

“Close, but no cigar. Buuuut we do have the same haircut, kinda. So I’ll give you that one for free.” His soft smile is good-natured and a clear indicator for you to join in his banter. 

“Sorry, no - I do know your name. Hard not to. I was just -” Chancing a glance to gauge his attention.. “-On another planet. Samson’s project and all that it's just got me stressing out.” Letting the sigh speak for itself, knowing he’s in the same resentfully awkward position. 

“Ah. Yes, the dragon.” Rhythmically rapping his knuckles along your desk, finishing with a mimed symbol bash. “Who do you have the pleasure of gazing longingly at for 3 weeks? Lemme guess, you crawled on your hands and knees to beg for Hargrove’s hand? Must’ve been down there a while, m’sure there was a loooong line. Carpet burns on your knees, ha?” 

You manage to mumble out a bashful 'nobody' before he sweeps his head under your desk to unabashedly inspect your kneecaps and almost, the racy lace underwear you’d mistakenly taken from your sister’s washing pile that morning. Luckily, crossing your legs in a skirt had become a knee-jerk reaction, your modesty safe from the prying eyes of Eddie Munson - for the moment. 

Catching the way your legs hastily shifted across one another, he clocked the fact he’d almost gotten up close and personal with something sacred. 

His head re-emerges from below with a noticeably rosier tint to his cheeks and a shallow cough as a strangled ‘excuse me’ squeezed it's way out of his throat.

Huh. How pretty. 

You had no strong feelings leaning in either direction toward the metalhead. In the entirety of your time shared in the hallways, at most he’d garner a brief glance of recognition - gaze never travelling farther than his Hellfire shirt and pin cladded jacket. It wasn’t necessary, those threads and the accompanying level of racket that followed made him effortlessly recognisable. 

Trailing your eyes up past his shirt collar now, allowing yourself to properly survey him for the first time, you couldn’t say pencil-stache Hargrove was really all that in comparison. 

Eddie the freak had an oddly magnetic thing. It was hard to discern, but you found it painful to peel your stare away, suddenly busying yourself by rifling through your pencil case and detangling your thoughts from his surprisingly shiny curls. 

“You’re a lucky boy, Munson. You get to use my special pen.”

“Yeah? And what makes this one so precious?” You quirk an incredulous smile at him as he gargles out the last word, emulating some kind of gremlin, you figured. 

“This one slays dragons.”

Quiet pride blooms further in your chest as you pull a bark of a laugh from him.  

“Y’know, Y/N, it has been said that the pen is my sword.” 

It’s lost on you that he remembers your name.

“Oh yeah? How do you fare with a paint brush?” It’s out of your mouth and hanging in the air before your brain can even register it. 

“Dunno, wanna find out?” 

Fuck yes, you do. You’d been saved. Eddie the freak had saved your ass. No wandering hands from Hargrove, no vacuuming Graham’s dandruff from your bedroom carpet. 

“Deal.” You offer with a sincere beam and outstretched hand. 

Eddie moves to spit into his palm as you slap a hand over his lips and use the other to tap against his in a clumsy, uncoordinated fist-bump.

Glimpses of his curled lips are visible though the cracks in your fingers - it’s stupid and you’re easily charmed, but you think he’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever seen.

Class completely forgotten, Mr Jameson enters the room and slaps a textbook onto his desk with a crack, forcing all eyes to the front ready for the final lesson of the day to begin.  

Staring down at your fingertips, they're still warm with his breath and you could have sworn that he'd kissed them.

A/N: Chapters WILL be longer going forward, I had to manically get this written down before it slipped out of my head and out of my train window. ;)

Is 'manspreading' an 80's accurate term? NO. Did I leave it in there because it was goofy? YEA. Shh.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson #x reader #badmirvcle #stranger things

[dark9896]

Thoughtful gift [Steven x Reader]

Steven marveled at the gift he had received for his birthday. A beautifully hand-carved, solid wood desk topper. A lift-able book stand for research, a large spinning pencil holder, small indents for his sorting trays (which would particularly handy for when Zapp and Leo were too rowdy), and a classy spiral design around the edges. He couldn't think of a way to properly thank you for something like this.

Sure he knew you carved things out of wood in your spare time, but he didn't think you'd go through the trouble of making him something like this. It was so thoughtful, so useful. And Steven deeply appreciated it.

It didn't help his nerves that he was especially sweet on you. He felt that saying so now would just seem selfish, like his only motivator was the darkly stained wooden object currently sitting on his desk in the main office.

You had been running a little late to the office, a carving you had been working on took half the night and you missed your alarm. But you stopped dead in tracks....right in the middle of the office. Trying to contain the blush rising on your face was proving difficult. You knew Steven would use your gift, but not around the office. Did this mean he liked it? Or did just need it here more? Maybe it was too heavy for him to take home.

"[Name]?" Your boss's voice snapped you from your daze, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine Klaus. Just caught off guard a little."

"By what, if I may?"

"Uh....." You shook your head, unable to bring yourself to saying. Steven was right there and you didn't want to be weird, "Its nothing really. Didn't mean to worry you."

Klaus nodded and went back to watering his plants while you looked for something to distract you from the fact that Steven had decided to use the desk thing you made here. It was proving difficult, the thing you'd spent weeks on to make perfect was sitting right there, barely a few feet away. Did Steven really like it? Was it just because it was useful? Would asking be rude? Suspicious? You weren't ready to confess to liking Steven, not yet anyways.

"[Name]?" It might have been the end of the day, but Steven's voice just over your shoulder still made you jump, "Ah, sorry. I didn't mean to sneak up on you like that. I just realized I didn't get a chance to properly thank you for the desk organizer."

"Oh, uh....don't mention it." You were trying to keep calm, but Steven's cologne seemed to smell really good, no bad, not the time for office romance, "I'm just glad you're getting some use out of it."

Steven smiled and your knees buckled, "It really is a beautiful piece. And will definitely come in handy for the late nights I tend to spend around the office."

You barely managed to join in with Steven's light laughter, you hoped you didn't sound too nervous. Come to think of it, Steven rarely joked about his bad habits, let alone laugh about it. Was something wrong?

"But seriously." Steven laid a hand on your shoulder, "I truly appreciate it. I never noticed how messy my desk gets between clearing it of paperwork."

"That was basically my inspiration for it." You stopped, why.....did.....you.....just....say.....THAT!? "I....I mean, why I thought you'd like it. Sorry, I've been working on this one craving. Explaining inspiration. I just....uh.....first word that popped into my head."

"Oh, it's fine [Name]." Steven waved your apology aside, "We've all had a slip of the tongue. But uh....while I have you here. Maybe you'd like to grab coffee? I know its probably a little late for that, but I know this one charming little cafe that has some nice tea if that's more your thing."

"Coffee sounds great." It was Steven's turn to be flustered at your smile, since his heart seemed to skip a beat, "Shall we?"

Both of you were determined to actually ask the other out.....soon. But for now, coffee as friends was fine.

#bbb #kekkai sensen #kkss #steven starphase

[moonlight-prose]

hi lovely, sending these ones for your fic asks: 🤲🧠

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them.

Which character would you like darling? I have many headcannons for several of them.

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

I'll drop a small piece to the opening chapter of my Moon Knight fic Turning Pages!

“Hello?” he called out, glancing at the short pile of books his foot brushed against. They teetered precariously to the left, threatening to spill out on another pile and create a domino effect. One that would wind up with him having to apologize for the damages.

Ducking down, he caught hold of the other side, straightening the books in the neatest way possible. However, curiosity got the better of him—the title Cairo in large bold letters, catching his attention. At this point it was clear that his newfound life and secret would follow him everywhere he went. Even to small places such as this.

He gingerly picked it up, careful not to damage the worn out interior. From his guess, the book was a lot older than the publishing date on the inside cover. The pages were yellowed, some crinkled, and he spotted some scribblings in pencil that were slowly being rubbed away with age. Steven fell in love with the book then and there. He wasn’t sure what called to him and he never questioned it in the end,

Sticking it under his arm, he began to browse through the rest that were scattered here and there—some neatly placed on shelves in thankfully alphabetical order. Steven figured that whoever owned this place had no time to organize thoroughly, leaving behind this mess. People would be lucky if they found anything to read after browsing. However, he found the sight of an overflowing bookstore quite romantic.

He wanted to burrow himself in the stacks, see how much he could consume before life caught up to him. Demanding his return.

#witch aunt talks✨ #laura darling🧡

[coopergal24]

I’m sorry but people can claim to be “not against the LGBTQ+ community” and also be unaware of behavior/opinions that can be homophobic.

The way you disregard the writers’ intents for adding more queer characters to the cast by saying “i only see them as sisters/best friends” when it’s so common to erase and disregard the very few representation wlw/sapphics/lesbians get. In fact, The Owl House got that type of censorship in several countries by making Amity & Luz have a “sisterly” bond instead or how Sailor Neptune & Sailor Uranus were made “cousins” in the english dub of Sailor Moon despite canonically being in a relationship. These are only a few examples that come to mind.

Ian Flynn, Aleah Baker & Jennifer Hernandez have spoken out about how they were on board with Sallicole being a thing as well as confirming that Sally is bisexual. The Spark of Life arc was only the foundation of the more intimate relationship they’d eventually have, but unfortunately since the comics were cut short not long after, they couldn’t really go forward with more stories that explored their dynamic.

Sallicole isn’t like other ships like Fiona/Scourge or Mina Mongoose/Tails that came out of the blue just because, but I don’t see as much people complain about how they interacted like once before they ended up as a couple 🤷

The fact that you decide to purposely disregard the writer’s intent of Sally & Nicole’s interactions to be romantic and then say “no they’re not in love just because I don’t want them to” says more about you than anything

Wow, just wow…

You judge me as an instant “homophobe” is like judging a black person as a “criminal”.

You don’t even know me, and yet you only judged me based on my one post, which was more of a rant than anything.

Speaking of which, I’ve said before that I wasn’t homophobic in any way, shape or form, I was ranting about how people just mistook one Sonic story as an instant Sally/Nicole shipping when there’s not even proof of said shipping being canon in any way.

Even in the last few issues, there was no confirmation that Sally and Nicole were a “thing”, despite people seeing it and Ian just “making it a pairing because he hated shipping wars”.

If I did sound homophobic, I apologize, but I was in no way saying or doing anything against the LGBT community, I was ranting on here.

Also, I’d be more against the person that’s kicking up a huge stink loud about someone else and their opinions. Just respect the opinions of others.

I was just speaking from my own perspective, and made some minor good points. Again, I made no indications or said anything that was even remotely “homophobic”.

EDIT: And as for the LGBT+ in other shows; the scenes featuring Amity/Luz in Owl House are only censored in countries like Russia, for obvious reasons.

And Uranus and Neptune being dubbed as “cousins” only happened years ago in the original English dub, before ViZ studios did a new dub in the 90’s Sailor Moon anime, when they were made for the newer DVD sets.

And I know there’s animated series with the LGBT+ theme in it, mostly because of Steven Universe. And even though the Gem characters are genderless, they still had that LGBT+ theme in it, mostly Ruby and Sapphire’s relationship and wedding scene.

Hell, there was even a scene near the end of the live action Beauty and the Beast movie, where Le Fou danced with another man, but that only lasted for a second.

The reason why I said “I saw Sally and Nicole as best friends/sister figures” is because I’ve grown up watching the original SatAm series and read the original Sonic comics from Archie.

I don’t see that “Romantic bond” between the two, because Nicole’s an AI first off, she was already in a relationship with Shard in the later issues while Sally and Sonic’s relationship were still being slowly healing (And Sally was with Money Khan/Ken for a short time) secondly.

Third and most importantly of all, you talked about how two writers and a penciler talked about how it’s “confirmed” that the SalCole is canon in the comic universe, which is mostly a “They said, we said” thing.

Unless you had solid proof that this is all true, then it’s basically “Your word against theirs” kind of thing. Again, (as I’ve stated in the first reply to you) if you or anybody else like that pairing, then that’s completely alright and your choice.

Point is, we have different opinions on what we like or don’t like. I’ve spoken up about my opinions, but someone else didn’t respect that and instead of being civil about it, they pulled the “Homophobe Card” and labeled me as. Homophobe, despite not even knowing me to begin with.

If you don’t like my opinions on certain things, that’s all fine and dandy, but I only ask that you be respectful and civil to me and other fans/people.

There’s a golden rule that goes “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all”, and I think that also applies to others that makes opinions on certain subjects.

Sure, there may be some opinions you won’t like, but that doesn’t entitle you to just instantly label someone else in a relationship rude manner, just because you don’t like their post or what they like/dislike.

[unlikelypaintersalad]

Another day, another ChatGPT writing + editing session

Hello! Please edit the following passages for precision of language and proper use of grammar.

I'm not sure if I should apologize to him or not. On the one hand, I feel deeply that we are just two reflections, growling angrily at each other. On the other, I can sense a sharp divide in the way we see things - looking past each other. I flipped a chess piece between my fingers, not truly paying attention to my surroundings until I felt a tapping on my shoulder. Oh, wonderful. Steven. "Hello Charlie", he said shyly. "I brought you a drawing today, I hope that you will accept it." I replaced the knight to it's resting spot beneath the counter. "Sure, Steven. Let's take a look." I swept the remaining rye crumbs to the floor to make room for Steven's small blue journal. He leafed delicately through the pages, revealing small pencil sketches, replacing those were ink studies, and finally watercolor landscapes. Steven slowed to inspect these more closely until he found one he was evidently satisfied with - tearing the page neatly from his make-shift sketchbook and laying it on the counter between us. "This is quite nice, Steven. Where did you derive your inspiration?" I barely needed to ask, so plainly was "Courbet" written in the dull landscape of Steven's painting. Small bodies, or perhaps human-shaped potato sacks, dotted the middle ground. As he began to proudly relay the information he had learned about Gustave Courbet during his latest tour of L'Orsay, I admired his detailed handiwork and attention to the details of realism. A small dirt and grass hillock descended from the background into a middling farmhouse and farmland, both stained brown and rusted as Courbet depicted in many of his paintings. The farmland stretched before the viewer on either side, leaving one with a sense of endless dread imposed on one when confronted with work which requires three. ChatGPT

ChatGPT

I'm unsure whether I should apologize to him. On one hand, I strongly feel that we are merely two reflections growling angrily at each other. On the other hand, I sense a sharp divide in the way we perceive things, looking past each other.

I absentmindedly flipped a chess piece between my fingers, not fully aware of my surroundings until I felt a tapping on my shoulder. Oh, wonderful. It was Steven.

"Hello, Charlie," he said shyly. "I brought you a drawing today. I hope you will accept it." I returned the knight to its resting spot beneath the counter.

"Sure, Steven. Let's take a look." I swept the remaining rye crumbs to the floor to make room for Steven's small blue journal. He delicately leafed through the pages, revealing small pencil sketches, followed by ink studies, and finally watercolor landscapes. Steven slowed down to inspect these more closely until he found one he was evidently satisfied with, tearing the page neatly from his makeshift sketchbook and laying it on the counter between us.

"This is quite nice, Steven. Where did you derive your inspiration?"

I barely needed to ask, as "Courbet" was plainly written in the dull landscape of Steven's painting. Small bodies, or perhaps human-shaped potato sacks, dotted the middle ground. As he proudly relayed the information he had learned about Gustave Courbet during his latest tour of L'Orsay, I admired his detailed handiwork and attention to the details of realism. A small dirt and grass hillock descended from the background into a middling farmhouse and farmland, both stained brown and rusted as Courbet depicted in many of his paintings. The farmland stretched before the viewer on either side, leaving one with a sense of endless dread imposed when confronted with work that requires three.

#creative writing #chatgpt #edit #editing #ai tools

[taylastudio2022]

NEEDLES/TEXT:

Painted the needles white to allow me to write on them - as well as white working well with the colour palette of the works. 

The words on the needles, don’t have a particular order or way to read them, and work in a variety of ways of reading them. I wrote these words with my mother in mind, with my relationships to other women in mind, and with a sense of sympathy for my younger self, and a sympathy towards femininity. 

Mother, Daughter

You’ve Taught me So Much

My Love, My Life

I am

Sorry

I don’t consider myself a poet or a writer, but I these words have multiple meanings to myself personally, and to the work. Mother, Daughter, is a response in a way to Father, Son - the song by Cat Stevens. I love that song, and think of the song in terms of my relationship to my mother, and her relationship to hers, etc. Similarly, My Love, My Life - is a song or lyric that constantly reminds me of a mothers love. 

The other words, aren’t directed towards anyone or anything in particular, I just feel like I wanted to acknowledge the women who have come before me or have been a part of my life. I added sorry, just as a general apology, to women, femininity, my younger self, my mother, my grand mother, not necessarily purely an apology from me, but I feel like one was perhaps warranted. 

I want this to be a subtle addition to the works, hence the small scale pencil writing. I think the scribbly handwritten nature reinforces a sense of intimacy within the work - and invites a closer engagement with the work, having to approach the works closely to experience this aspect. 

Documentation:

“vol. 1 - i wish” - Karolina Koryl 2017 - Above - https://www.pinterest.nz/pin/8866530506152111/ 

[matchamorphosis]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞

𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 | ღ | 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || what seems to be a normal rich summer morning with the women who lives across the honeysuckle boulevard from his cottage lies something else. a buttery rich feeling that spreads deep within Bucky’s heart as he takes his neighbor, alongside Alpine to the farmers market for coffee.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 || fluffy fluff! ➳ part one

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 || retired!bucky barnes × neighbor![black//woc]reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 3K ➳ 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 || @firefly-graphics

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || if you think long walks with bucky and alpine in the sunny countryside are warnings then so be it but there is lots of food mentioned. ღ also reader owns a flower shop, not a warning thought just some info!

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 || this version of cherry wine by hozier ღ this version of mystery of love by sufjan stevens ღ

𝐰. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 || eeeeep!!! so this is my first bucky with alpine fluff and i’m very glad to have it be the first for my fluffy mini series that i’m doing for this month! ღ I don’t describe reader too much throughout the story but what is clear is that I don’t specify on skin tone but yes the person in the moodboard is a woc! ღ anyways I hope you cherubs enjoy reading! ღ

+ p.s || do not repost, republish or plagiarize my work on any other fanfic platform such as: wattpad, ao3, tumblr, etc or steal my work all together. do so and i will rip your spine from your scumy asshole and shove it down your talentless throat. ♡♡♡  

it was a lavish affair when Bucky found himself tangled with you in the bed of a million perennial petals.

clothing falling and bodies twisting themselves against each other in not lust but emotional apprehension. the soft petals of rose, carnation and violet keep pouring like blissful rain, entangling in his hair and in the crooks of your body.

enough to suffocate but enough to make him feel enveloped in the fantasy- the divination of you you you and only you.

for you are butterscotch benevolence that he will let pool like ambrosial nectar in the cavernous hollows of his collarbones. your tears of seventh heaven euphoria trickling onto his skin forming constellations- like the paint speckles on the forlonged artists canvas of his naked soul.

you are honey sunlight oozing from the basin of the candy floss sky, lacing with the shedding petals that continue to powder in their divine scent and morality. his fine pink sheets soft and silky as the rose petals of Heliogabalus, he’d sigh in heavenly pleasure to be buried alive in petals if she was drunk of the love he has for her.

he sees her playing, singing, dancing and bringing her virtuous spring song deep within the glossy shine of her honey hive eyes. love seeping in the melancholy streams leaking through the old creeky floorboards of his home and straight into the chambers of his heart.

so promising yet so grandeur as he feels his chest warm with her very touch, the ivory bow encased in the virtuous flowers of her emblem garden in his hands- he’d think that he was Cupid but oh how he’s been struck by his own arrow in great surprise. straight into the once extravagant chamber of his heart.

the spiraling golden arrow destined to pierce and rip through the tender muscle of breast to the beating vessel that writes a tragic tale of eternal ravishment in the movements of lyrical beats. muttering with languor-glazed lips, he’d keep her love like a an old locket against his chest for it’s what reminds him of home whenever he feels the cold element on his skin.

there are pieces of you scattered in the wonderous arteries of his heart.

nestled in the folds of the beating muscle, take heed.

for that is his home.

y/n is his perennial feelings left unsaid, exquisite pain yet ethereal serenity. his soft bed of roses and his deadly golden arrow, all meant to give his heart hope.

that he was- however it seems the bed of roses and all the lovely elements it holds have come to a staggering pause.

now as the sun hits the past super soldiers eyelids that dream of flower petals and the heavenly vision of you disappear. they flutter open to meet the single stream of sunlight that has slipped past the slit of the sheer bedroom curtains. brightening up the somewhat clustered space of the room with its single golden string.

Bucky sighs in defeat, this is the fifth dream he’s had of you in a month and he was barely pushing past the second week of May. before he didn’t mind the dreams, they calmed his mind while he layed in slumber during the thunderstorms of April but now they were resilient. it wasn’t no regular thing to dream about the women across the boulevard in the haven of flower fields and maple trees.

Bucky knew this but he couldn’t help but not treat these dreams sweetly. they were the definition of sweet torture, you never hurt him in those dreams as he did to himself but it was a pain to know that you probably don’t think of him the same way. for goodness sake ever since he and Alpine moved the only interactions he had with the maiden were just acknowledgments as they passed each other on their daily errands.

he shouldn't be this infatuated with someone who he's only met.

the soft hum of a purr finally awakens Bucky, his cats paw brushing against the half covered skin of his fleshed bicep. it takes a pat or two to make Bucky open his eyes to find Alpines blue hues staring back at his and he gives his furry friend a crooked smile. a chorus of meows welcoming him to another sunny morning in the peaceful and harmonious countryside.

“morning pal, ya slept well?” Bucky smiles as he lazily lifts his hand to scratch the right spot behind Alpines ear.

stretching out of bed till his feet touch the cool wood flooring, following the simple path from the bedroom to the kitchen he pours Alpine his dish of cream and gets started on his own breakfast. whisking hen eggs his neighbors from afar gifted him the day before and toasting the freshly baked loaves of bread he bought specially from the market yesterday.

Bucky normally didn’t take any gifts from anyone, he wasn’t that type of person to feel comfortable with those sort of things but as the days gone by the cheerfulness of the communities welcoming energy towards him has soften his doubt.

eating his simple breakfast paired with coffee, Bucky bites into his buttery egg toast whilst quickly scribbling down his to-do list for the day. of course there isn’t any tasks that the hundred and ten year old man has to get done but there were things that Bucky did look forward to ever since he settled in a month ago. the country was a lovely peacefulness he had forgotten about ever since he was a boy.

traveling to his grandparents farm away from the city for memorable childhood summers in the sun and fields. turning his head to meet the white linen sheets that draped over the kitchen panels, Bucky can see the herd of brown and black spotted cows from the distance. tapping the pencil against the shiny polish of the kitchen table he bites his lip on what else to add on.

his head lifts up to see through the other window that casts its lovely light against his paper. blue eyes meeting the toffee cobblestone path that led to her cottage, hidden amongst the shrubbery of acorn trees and flower budded bushes. hearing from lots of locals in the cobblestone village near the sparkling sea that she owns a little orchard of peach and cherry trees, a few strawberry patches amongst the vegetation.

it made sense why he sometimes finds a large wooden basket of those ruby fruits at his doorstep from time to time. a card inviting him over for some tea that he would agree to yet he would always call you the next day a stuttering mess canceling it over some important errands. nonetheless it made Bucky's heart swell how understanding you were, sweet just like the ripe fruits you pluck for him on Sundays.

Bucky would make copplers and sometimes pies out of them and if he wasn't so scared of the possibility of being too attracted to you he'd head over to your place so he and him would eat them in your gazebo. but of course he can't do everything his heart implores him to do. was it bad to want to get to know you and imagine what it would be like to befriend you?

maybe do lots more than just befriend you...

sometimes he would find a glimpse of your form in the distance as he headed for the lake neat the lavender fields up north to fish something for dinner. humming while you cared for your flowers, singing to them as you danced along the vintage radio. Bucky could see himself singing and dancing alongside you. caring for your precious tulips, primroses and other beautiful flowers that you sold.

those pretty flowers sweet and divine just as her lips and voice when the two first met, when he arrived in the too expensive car that stood out amongst the scenery. arms occupied with bouquets upon bouquets of trimmed flowers that practically shielded her face, his body ran straight into yours when he got out of his car. flower petals falling with the impact and him apologizing one thing led to another and he helped her with her bouquets all while being stricken when he got a clear look at her.

a clear look at you.

lovely in your sundress that flowed beautifully against your bodies soft planes, there was something about the sparkle in your eyes that made him start to stutter. something about you that made his heart bloom in a recherché flower he still can’t understand because he can still hear the velvety tone of your voice speaking your own name when giving each other’s your introduction.

from there on out a glowing ember of clustered stars burned in the pit of his belly when you spoke his name and he spoke yours. it was soft and innocent as the flowers in your arms but the introduction was cut off far too short for Bucky's liking but he promised you a coffee when he was completely settled in. having to do something so he could see you again cause oh how he wishes to hear you speak his name again and again and again till the flowers sprout, bloom and decay with each coming season.

maybe he should pay you a visit and bring up that coffee...

the music from the radio filling the bright cottage kitchen sweetly alongside the birds singing their song outside. Alpine takes his seat across from him, yawning over the new day that brings nothing but lazy laps and baked fish treats. forking a few honey drizzled raspberries in his mouth, Bucky walks to the front door and just in time the daily paper plops down on his feet from the passing paper boy whipping through the grassy roads on the shiny steel of a ringing bicycle.

bending down to retrieve the newspaper, he passes through the sidewalk of petunias and violets till he reaches his mailbox. the wood creaky and the metal rusty but the daisies that sprinted around the opening was a pretty site to see before Bucky grimaced at people from the outside world wanting to invade his privacy. grabbing the letters before smelling the sweet daisies, Bucky looks through the letters one by one. ripping some that had no use for to be used as fire food for his fireplace, grunting that even though he’s away from the tabloids and cameras there are still people eager enough to want something from him.

a soft voice from the distance pulls him out of his annoyance, it makes his eyes lift from his dreaded mail to the women a mile away singing her song as she reaches her mailbox. Bucky can’t help but look at her from afar; and maybe Alpine knows this to as he watch his lovesick owner admire the maiden from the kitchen windowsill.

with some obscene fortune he notices you checking your mailbox as well. heart pacing in his chest, he wishes he didn’t go outside before showering and at least brushing his hair for your waving to him from the distance.

“hello hello Bucky!” your sweet voice exclaims and it just adds onto the heaven that is the morning it makes his cheek hurt from how much he’s smiling.

“hello hello to you y/n. how is the shop coming along?” Bucky shouts and his heart sinks when you wave him over to you.

despite his mind telling him to not pursue closer his heart makes him walk his way to you standing next to your Valentine shaped mailbox. his worries slipping away when there's a underlying comfort in your posture and aura, alluring like the bees are to the flowers. welcoming and warm and he can't help but feel that way every time he's near you.

speaking of you, its reassuring to also know he wasn't the only one to wear pajama's out since your still in your blue silk nightgown. matching silk slippers adorning your feet, you sip from your tea cup as you read what he believes to be a Cosmopolitan.

“it’s coming along great, thank you! a bit slow the first week but that’s how any business starts but I just received my tenth loyal customer and i’m more than certain i’ll be selling lots of flowers today.” you spoke as you smiled to yourself then up at him.

checking your mail, Bucky’s surprised that you have quite a handful of letters and boxes. all written in lovely cursive and packaged nicely, almost like love letters and gifts. it makes Bucky’s heat sink, knowing that he might not be the only one who’s fallen head over heels for you. by all means you probably have the whole village under a spell with just the way you smile alone but he wants to see that smile the most.

he wants to be the reason for that smile.

“that’s sounds wonderful y/n, maybe I could stop by and pick a pretty bouquet or two," you only smile wider upon those words and much to his excitement you even brush your hand against his.

"oh really? have a special someone in your life who needs some loving?" you perk as you open an envelop but the question makes Bucky's throat dry on how he should answer.

you seem like the type of maiden who loves an honest man- yes, he should be honest.

"well... there is this one special lady." Bucky lingers and that makes you snap your attention away from the letters in your hands. voice dying in your throat at those words and heart beat hitting pause.

"I always thought Alpine was gonna be the only one to get to my soft spot- we sleep in the same bed together," he stops to laugh a bit, rubbing the back of neck with his metal arm and you laugh along with him.

"how is Alpine? i'm noticing he's getting into a routine with sleeping in my chamomile beds in the afternoon," you smile and bring your tiny tea cup to your lips. "would you care for a cup Bucky? this just so happens to be chamomile,"

"Alpine is doing good and thank you for bringing that up I was beginning to wonder where that rascal has been leaving for. will have an important talk to him once I get home and- I was going to ask you something," Bucky speaks while admiring how your thick lashes curtain your honey hive hues as you sip the steaming golden liquid.

no one should look that beautiful just drinking tea yet here he is, breathless on the simple action. if he truly wanted a cup he'd wish to drink from your tiny cup, to press his lips upon the porcelain rim where yours once brushed against. drink the sweet sunshine to experience the closest thing to your honey kiss...

"don't worry it's alright! I love looking over at him when I have tea at the back patio, he's quite a lovely guest. very well mannered, and yes Bucky is there anything I can help you with?" you cannot deny that your heart is practically skipping beats in your chest, fast and lively like the flutter of a butterfly wing.

Bucky runs his fingers through his hair, for someone who has done the simple thing of asking someone out for couple hundreds of times a hundred years ago from now it’s a disappointment that he’s lost his touch. however you don’t seem to notice or care but that doesn't mean he should give up. not when you're right here glowing in your morning dew radiance, anticipating the next words to slip past those lips.

it's now or never.

"h-how do you feel about that coffee I promised? today? I have a few errands to run in town and I was wondering if you would accompany me- on my errands... if that doesn't bother you,” Bucky rambles to a stop and he's thankful you're still smiling that closed lip grin against the porcelain of the cup.

"yes Bucky I would love that! there's a coffee cart near the shop I work at but what about your lady? she wouldn't mind us going out for coffee, would she?" you speak as you gather your letters in your arms. glancing up at Bucky to receive some conformation and Bucky bites his lips.

"I don't think she'll mind. in fact... I think she would love me to go out once in a while. I have a habit of only going out when necessary, coffee with you wouldn't hurt,"

"that's perfect, i'll see you at twelve then Bucky. you can help me open shop to," you smiled and Bucky returned an even warmer one back.

filling your heart with a rush of liason, like a tea cup filling with tea. something meant to be full and warm, embraced with someone's touch and lips as they drank each fluttering honey glazed sensation they have for one other.

something that seems to be happening right now before they break their strong eye contact, wiry- crooked smiles still embellishing their sun-freckled faces.

you wish you could kisses each one off his clean shaven cheeks right now, slightly rosy but oh how it would feel like peach skin against your lips.

Bucky wishes to kiss yours, the shine of your lips the form of heart shaped clouds and he just can't seem to get his head out of the amorous blue you cast him into.

"i'll be seeing you in an hour Bucky," you draw before walking away with a cheeky wink, your eyes still locking with his before you get to the rosy sunflower porch.

"and i'll be waiting for you doll,"

♡♡♡ thank you for reading part one! ♡♡♡ pretty please like, reblog and/or comment what you think and if you enjoy this join my taglist to be notified of my future works! ♡♡♡

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#brattycherubwrites #♡ bucky barnes ♡ #bucky barnes × black!reader #bucky barnes × woc!reader #bucky barnes × reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine

[woulddieforsamwilson]

Paper Rings

It wasn’t like he didn’t know who James Barnes was, he just had no reason to become friends with the boy. He didn’t think they’d be very good friends anyway; James was always with the stronger kids, the ones that would beat Steve up at the end of the day, and that’s where he belonged. James was strong and sturdy, both reasons that half the girls in their class swooned over the boy. But despite all this, James never picked on Steve for being as thin as a stick or beat him up for fun. And Steve swears that one time, during art class when Steve was being praised for his work, James smiled at him.

It was probably nothing.

It wasn’t nothing.

The moon is high

Like your friends were the night that we first met

Went home and tried to stalk you on the internet

Now I've read all of the books beside your bed

Steve didn’t know what happened, one second he was walking home so he could clean before his ma got home, the next he was pulled into a familiar ‘ally.

“Hey there Rogers” Robert, a boy a few years older than Steve who looked 10 years older, “how’s old dad?” Steve glared and squared his shoulders, Robert laughed, “‘think if I were married to your ma with you as a kid, I would want to die too” Steve growled and clenched his fists, ready to hit the boy in front of him, but before he could try, James-fucking-Barnes strolled into the ally.

James was smiling brightly like the best thing in the world just happened to him, which, from what Steve could tell, was probably true, “hey Rob what-” James’ face fell as he saw the scene before him, “what are you doing?” Robert turned and looked at James, “just talking to Rogers. I think we’re gonna be best friends!” Robert and his goons laughed loudly, but James didn’t.

“Right well… why don’t we go get some pie down at Anne’s, hear she’s got a new apple pie out” Robert smiled, “sure James, but first, wanna ‘talk’ too little Stevie here?” 

“No, now can we go?” Robert rolled his eyes, “fine, let me just finish up our chat, then we can go,” Robert kicked Steve in the leg, sending him toppling to the ground, Steve groaned as his head hit the trash can behind him, but he always got up. 

Steve opened his eyes and pushed himself into a crouching position and looked up just in time to see James punch Robert in the face.

“What the hell!” Robert yelled as blood poured from his nose, “pick on someone your own size!” James yelled, crossing his arms and standing protectively in front of Steve, “you’re crazy Barnes!” Robert said, turning away and running back to whatever hellhole he came from, his goons followed.

When they were all gone, James turned to look at Steve, his gaze was piercing and comforting, like the look, his Ma gave him when he came home with bruises. “Are you okay?” Steve glared and pushed himself fully up, “I’m fine,” James looked instantly relieved, but Steve continued, “but you don’t have to stand up for me, I can take care of my self” James scrunched his eyebrows like this was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard, “you call getting your ass kicked ‘taking care of it’?” Steve rolled his eyes, “yes, because if you would’ve given me a few more minutes I would’ve had them right where I wanted them” James laughed-and for a moment Steve’s heart stopped-but then it was over and he was talking, “right, see ya later Stevie” Steve sputtered in protest, because the only person who could call him Stevie was his Ma, but James was already gone, possibly taking Steves heart with him.

That night Steve made it his life goal to become friends with James Barnes.

The wine is cold

Like the shoulder that I gave you in the street

Cat and mouse for a month or two or three

Now I wake up in the night and watch you breathe

Bucky was an idiot. He’d been working up the courage to talk to Steve Rogers since he first saw him, but he could never muster the strength. But of course, his stupid brain chooses to introduce himself to Steve at the worst possible time.

And now, he lost half his friends.

Was it worth it? Probably. His ‘friends’ shouldn’t have picked on Steve. Steve who weighed less than his book bag, who was always sick and bruised, who only had a mom, Steve who was perfect in every way.

The next day, a Saturday, Robert and his goons showed up at his door. “Barnes. Can we talk” Bucky nodded and stepped out of his house, closing the door behind him slightly. 

“Is this about yesterday? Cause if you think I’m gonna apologize-” Robert rolled his eyes “yeah we figured you wouldn’t apologize. But we still want to be friends” Bucky smiled, these guys weren’t as bad as he thought, “but we don’t want you to talk to Rogers anymore” Bucky’s smiled faltered, he didn’t want to stop talking to Steve after he just got up the nerve to speak to him, but he also didn’t want to lose all his friends in one swoop. He could go back to just admiring from afar, like before, “alright, but only if you stop picking on other kids, especially Steve” Robert nodded and held out his hand, ignoring the rock at the bottom of his stomach, Bucky took Roberts hand and they shook. 

Bucky was the worst person ever. After he defended Steve, the younger boy had tried to approach him several times, always nervous-and as time went on-expecting the worst. Bucky wanted to be friends with Steve, but Robert was somehow always around, and so Bucky always shut poor Steve down. 

Eventually, Steve stopped asking. 

Bucky was walking home again, he could already smell the dinner his Mama was making back home, and his stomach growled in anticipation. “Wow your little crush on Barnes must be huge, no other reason you would keep talking to him even when you know what we’re gonna do to you” Bucky stopped dead in his tracks, Robert had promised, he wasn’t going to hurt Steve-or anyone else, but baby steps-Robert may be many things but a promise-breaker wasn’t- ”I can do this all day!” He heard Steve’s voice call out, surprisingly confident considering his situation.

“Hey!” Bucky yelled, stepping into the now-familiar ally behind the movie theater, “thought we promised?” Robert sighed, clearly exasperated, “c’mon James, have you not seen how this fairy has acted around you? He’s in love with you! Wouldn’t you beat him up if he was in love with us?” Bucky glared, “no” and then he punched Robert for the second time.

It was the start of a beautiful friendship.

Kiss me once 'cause I know you had a long night

(Oh!) Kiss you twice 'cause it's gonna be alright

Three times 'cause you waited your whole life

(One, two, one two three four!)

Years later they had graduated high school. Bucky was working at the docs and Steve was taking art classes. 

One night Bucky came home completely exhausted. He sloppily untied his shoes and undid his shirt buttons. Once he was done he wobbly walked over to the couch where Steve was sitting, a drawing pad on his lap and a pencil in hand. 

Steve looked up at Bucky’s disheveled self and blushed, but didn’t comment. Bucky flopped down on the old couch and sighed at the comfort that enveloped him. 

“Buck?” Bucky hummed, acknowledging he heard Steve but not opening his eyes, “could I kiss you?” Bucky’s eyes shot open, staring up into Steve’s own eyes, which were full of fear, before his mind could even process what his body was doing, he was nodding excitedly. 

And then, for the briefest of seconds, Steve’s lips were on Buckys, and then they were gone. 

But Bucky wasn’t done. He sat up quickly and looked at Steve, “Steve?” the younger boy nodded, “could I kiss you?” he nodded again, and that night was filled with small kisses and happy feelings. 

I like shiny things, but I’d marry you with paper rings

Uh-huh, that’s right

Darling, you’re the one I want and

I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this

Uh-huh, that’s right

Darling, you’re the one I want and

Paper rings and picture frames and dirty dreams

Oh, you’re the one I want

“Marry me?”

It was a question both had thought about before, but neither brought up, too afraid to scare the other. 

But on a particularly rainy afternoon, it was blurted in the middle of the kitchen.

“What?” Steve asked half in shock. 

“Marry me” Bucky stared at Steve, love, and devotion clear in his eyes. 

“We-I” Steve took a second to control his thoughts, “we can’t get rings,” he said simply. “Steven Grant Rogers I would marry you with paper rings,” Steve’s heart melted, but quickly broke when he thought of all the terrible things getting married would do.

“Steve? It’s okay love we don’t have to I was just thinking…” Steve looked up at Bucky with tears in his eyes, “I can’t do that to you! You have your entire life ahead of you, I could die any second! You deserve someone better, someone, who could take care of you and love you till you grow old! I can’t do that Buck!” Steve cried out, all his insecurities leaking out.

It was silent for a full minute before Bucky stood up and walked toward Steve, for a second he thought Bucky would slap him, but instead, Bucky grabbed his face and kissed him harshly.

“Stevie, you’re the one I want. No one else, just you” Steve looked at Bucky’s face and knew it was true, “yes.”

Bucky froze, “what?” Steve took a deep breath, “yes, I’ll marry you” Bucky’s face broke out into a beautiful grin as he laughed, Bucky picked Steve up and spun him around, making the blond laugh giddily. 

A day later, in their small apartment, they were married.

I want to drive away with you

I want your complications too

I want your dreary Mondays

Wrap your arms around me, baby boy

The Grand Canyon was going to be their honeymoon. They had been saving up all year to go anyway, but since their wedding, they had decided to make it an unofficial honeymoon. 

A week before they were going to leave, Bucky received a letter telling him he was drafted.

#stucky #stucky fic #oh god its 2 am #steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers fic #bucky barnes fic #taylor swift #paper rings #songfic #stucky songfic #married stucky #1940's stucky #pre-serum steve #winter solider #my brain hates #me #writing #fic #avengers fic #Avengers #marvel #mcu #marvel fic #mcu fic #my writing #based off a song #based off paper rings by taylor swift

[fanfoolishness]

on the subject of rocks (SUF)

Steven and Jasper have a long-overdue conversation.  Set two years after SUF, canon-compliant. A little angst, a lot of hope. ~2500 words.

***

Steven is eighteen years old when he decides he wants to try to speak with her again.  

If she wants to, that is.

He thinks he’s ready.  He thinks the conversation might dim the feeling of her fragments cutting into his palm, the weight of his crime crushing his heart, his gut, his gem.  Therapy has helped a great deal. But there are still nights he wakes up panting, remembering what it felt like to let go, to hurt, to shatter, and he wonders.  

If Jasper has the same terrible memories, the same haunting, then maybe they should talk about it.

He talks with Dr. Boverman for hours.  He wants to be sure this is right.  Not just for him, but he wants to make sure this won’t damage her further than he already has.  They go round and round.  They’ve spoken of so many things, old wounds that pierced and bled and fractured, but most of those wounds were done to him.

The blood on his hands is less than he’d once feared it was, but it still doesn’t scrub clean.

“It will always be with you,” Dr. Boverman’s calm voice says.  “You shattered Jasper.  You didn’t intend to, but it’s what happened.”

“I know,” says Steven, and the thought no longer incapacitates him with shame.  It was terrible, violent, the worst possible action committed at nearly his lowest point.  But he accepts it, now, accepts that this will stay with him always.  That it should.

And yet -- 

He and Dr. Boverman strategize.  Roleplay.  Hours of scenarios, how to accept if she never wants to talk to him again, what to do if Jasper says she isn’t ready, what to do if she lashes out, what to do if she fights him, what to do if she bends her hands into the Diamond salute.  Each scenario frightens him at first, sends his heart racing.  The first time they talked about it he glowed pink again for the first time in months.  But the terror fades a little every time they speak, and several weeks later, he thinks he might be ready.

***

Little Homeworld is always different and always the same.  It’s a comforting flow of change, new Gems appearing each time he visits, old teachers moving on.  His family is still there, of course, and he has plans to catch up with them tomorrow.  But today -- today he wants to know if this is the right time.

If there will ever be a right time.  And if there isn’t, he thinks he can make his peace with that.

He finds Jasper sitting on a fallen log at the edge of the forest, alone as he’d expected she would be.  A sketchbook sits in front of her, colored pencils at her side.  His footsteps crunch on autumn leaves.

“Jasper?” he asks hesitantly, ten feet away.  

She turns to look at him, her form unchanged from the last time he saw her, the stripe through her eye disrupted, her horn broken.  So she hadn’t gone to Yellow, then.  A thread of fear mixed with guilt begins unspooling within him.  Maybe he wasn’t ready after all.

Jasper snorts, a gruff smile spreading over her face.  “I wondered if you’d stop by, one of these days.  I heard some of the others say you were coming into town.”

“Hi,” says Steven hesitantly.  He takes a deep breath, remembering his strategies.  “I -- I’d like to ask you something, Jasper.”

“Shoot,” she says in disinterest, picking up a pencil.  She makes scratchy marks against the sketchbook paper, scribbles he can’t quite make out.

He edges closer.  “I was wondering… I’ve done a lot of thinking.”

“Sounds like you.”

Despite himself, he chuckles slightly.  “All right, fair.”  

“Thinking about what?” she asks.

“About you,” says Steven honestly.  “And me.  What I did to you.  What we did to each other.”  He lets out a long, tremulous sigh, returning mentally to his gemstone, taking deep breaths with his diamond as his anchor.  “And I wanted to see if you wanted to talk about it.  It’s okay if you don’t, or if you want me to leave you alone.”  Breath.  Another.  “I’m so sorry, Jasper.”

She glances up at him, giving him an odd look, then gestures beside her with a powerful shoulder.  “Go on.  Sit down, already.”

No ‘my Diamond.’  He’s more relieved than he’d expected to be.  He sets down his bag and sits down on the ground, resting against the log instead of sitting on top of it with her.  He sinks into the soft loam, leans against the fallen trunk.  It’s more comfortable than it looks.  A few feet between them seem like miles, or inches, he isn’t sure.

Jasper regards him coolly, tilting her head slightly to one side.  “Why’d you really come here?”

“To talk to you,” says Steven, his hands folded and calm in his lap, his breathing slowing.  “You told me once that I was the one who needed help.  I’ve been getting it.”

“Told you,” she says, but there’s no gloating in her voice.  She purses her lips, face tensed in concentration.  At last she says, “So have I.”

He blinks, hands coming apart, fingers falling open.  He raises his head and gazes up at her, wondering if he’s heard her right.  “You have?”

“You told me to do something better with my life,” says Jasper, picking up her sketchbook.  At this angle he can see what she’s drawn.  It’s a rock -- what was it with her and rocks -- but a tenderly realized rock, craggy edges shaded in carefully, mosses and lichens rendered in textured shades of green and brown.  

“Jasper, that’s -- that’s really beautiful,” says Steven.  He’s been working on his art, too, but he’s no good at the type of delicate detail work laced into her sketch.  “Who taught you?”

“Ruby,” she says.  She sets the pencil down beside her, hands tensing on the sketchbook.  “I don’t go to Lapis’ classes.”

“Right.”  Part of him is saddened to hear it.  Another part of him is grateful for Lapis’ sake. He wonders which of them he’s most like.  “It seems like you’ve really taken to Little Homeschool.  I’m glad for you.”

A small scoff of a laugh, but it softens at the end into something more like a real smile.  Jasper shakes her hair, its white strands catching in the dappled sunlight beneath the trees.  She looks… calm, like this, and it’s not a state he ever remembers seeing her in before.

“What about you?” she asks suddenly.

“I’m doing well,” he replies, still shocked that they’re talking at all.  It’s going far better than most of the scenarios he’d practiced with Dr. Boverman.   “I visit with my family every couple of weeks.  I’ve been spending a lot of time in cities lately.  All the noise and hustle and bustle… it’s different, sometimes it’s overwhelming, but I like the energy.  It’s… good.  It’s really good.  Connie and I meet up every week.  And I talk to my therapist.”

“What’s that?”

“A therapist?  Um… it’s like a healer for human minds.  But it’s not instant, like with Diamond powers.  It takes time.  A long time.”  He gives her a small smile.  “Sometimes it’s two steps forward, one step back, but overall, I’m feeling a lot better than… before.”

Jasper considers his words.  She leans down, and he realizes a shiny blue beetle is crawling over the tip of her boot.  He tenses, waiting.

Jasper watches the beetle go, making no further move toward it.  It ambles away peacefully.

“You are not my Diamond,” she says into the silence.

“No,” he agrees, and something inside of him unclenches.  “I -- I’m a Diamond.  But mostly I’m just Steven.”

“I hated you for so long.”

He fights an urge to be sarcastic, to bite back at her.  This doesn’t sound… angry.  He keeps quiet, and lets her speak.

Her hand clenches into a fist, heavy against her thigh.  “I thought that if you could stop being weak, if I could make you stronger, I would have my Diamond again.  My purpose.  Someone to protect, someone to serve.”  

She stares into the woods, and he remembers his hands and legs awash in pink, the glow as he tore through the trees beneath a starry sky.  He remembers jagged laughter, his gem humming, a power crueler than he’d ever felt before --  

“I know.”

“Don’t ‘I know’ me when I’m talking to you,” she snaps.  “I’m trying to -- arrgh.  I thought this would be easier.”

“You thought what would be easier --” he starts to ask.

“You know.  Talking.  Ugh.  It’s nothing like a good fight.  The target keeps changing.”  She crosses her arms, still staring off into the trees.  The sun shifts overhead, casting her face in shadow.

“That’s called a conversation,” he says gently.  “Battles are battles, but a hard conversation… it can hurt.”

“Now you tell me,” says Jasper, and it takes him a solid minute before he realizes it’s a joke.  He laughs, but it’s too late, and Jasper shakes her head.  “Look.  Steven.  I -- I’m sorry.”  The words are hasty and fumbled and fast, but he catches them, barely.

“You’re sorry?” Steven yelps.  “But I’m the one who shattered you.”  It still comes out like a dirty word, almost two years later.  He wonders if he’ll ever be able to fully say it, if he’ll ever be able to act like it hasn’t scarred him.  He hopes not.  “I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.”

“You have.  Just now, and before,” she says, shrugging.  “But I only said I’d teach you to get you to fight me.  And you did.  And I lost.”

“Because I lost myself, I lost who I was, you didn’t make me --”

“But you were off-color,” growls Jasper.  “You were -- what do you humans call it again --?”

“Sick,” he says softly.  Such a small word.  It barely begins to cover everything that went wrong two years ago, but he knows CPTSD won’t mean a thing to her, and that’s okay, that’s not what he’s here for.

“Sick,” she repeats.  “And I --”  She digs her hands into the tree bark, small flakes of it crumbling beneath her shaking hands.  “I made you worse.  So that I could get something I wanted.  I failed to protect my Diamond from myself.”

“Jasper --” he gasps.  “You’ve been blaming yourself? For me shattering you?”

“Someone’s got to do it,” she huffs.

He rubs the back of his neck with his hand, tries to take another deep breath, reminds himself to return to the thought of his gem as a centering point.  He can do this.  He can do this.  It’s just, this isn’t how he thought it would go at all.  

He closes his eyes.  Remembers the way she screamed at him, punches in the gut, the face, the sides.  Remembers the way she goaded, the way she pressed, how proud she looked of how frightening he’d become.  He doesn’t know what to say.  “I -- I was sick,” he manages finally.  “I -- you’re right.”

“Of course I am.”

He shakes his head at that.  “But I’m still the one who did it.  I still have to take responsibility for hurting you,” he demands.

Jasper gives him an appraising look.  “Hmph,” she says, and he doesn’t know if it’s a hmph of agreement or a hmph of disdain.  It’s hard to tell with Jasper.  She holds the silence an uncomfortably long time before she says, “Maybe.”

“This isn’t how -- I wanted you to be mad at me,” Steven admits.  “I wanted you to be pissed off! To tell me to get away from you!”

“I can still do that,” says Jasper, apparently turning the thought around in her mind.  She chuckles, very slightly.  “But if that’s an order, I’m ignoring it.”

He laughs.  “You’re full of surprises, Jasper.”

“Am not.”

“You kind of are.”

“Don’t be so surprised then.”  She picks up her pencil, returning to her sketch.  Grass starts to grow beneath her rock, verdant blades springing up from dark soil.

“I thought you hated the local ecosystem.”

“It has its functions,” says Jasper begrudgingly.  “If I leave the grass it provides better contrast for the rocks.”  She picks up a different shade of green, adding highlights.  “It’s still puny.  But it has a purpose of its own.”

“What’s yours?” he asks, then kicks himself for getting so personal.

“Only if you tell me what yours is.��

Two years ago, the request would have paralyzed him.  Two years ago, he’d have panicked, spun out with a lie, tried his best not to think about who he was and what he was supposed to do.

He just smiles.  Breathes in the fresh green air, so different from the machine-smell of the big city.  Beneath the green there’s a hint of salt, the promise of the sea.  It smells like home.

“My purpose is to be Steven,” he says simply.  “To be myself.  To grow and change.  To love myself, regrets and all.”

“Sounds all right,” says Jasper begrudgingly.  “Sort of like mine these days.”  She turns to him, frowning.  “You got something to write on?”

“Uh, let me see.”  He rummages in his bag.  “Oh hey!  I have my sketchbook, too.”

“Well?” Jasper says, pointing to the boulder before her.  “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

He flips through his sketchbook, passing pages of silly Connie faces, a self-portrait in pink and white, Lion poses, CPH classic fanart.  He settles on a blank page and Jasper shoves a green pencil into his hand.  He feels smooth wood, the lightness of the organic drawing implement rounded and gentle in his palm.  No sharp edges, no jagged fragments, no terrible weight dragging his clenched hand into the hot water.  He blinks back tears.

The sunlight shifts, the golden hour arriving, brilliant light shafting through the leaves above and lining the forest floor in spun-gold glory.  His hands don’t quite have this kind of magic in them, but he tries his best, his drawing including sketches of the rock, the grass, the trees beyond them. He adds a gleaming line of yellow at the edges.  He’ll show it to Dr. Boverman at their next appointment.

“Not bad,” says Jasper, peering over his sketchbook.  “You added the trees.”

“It just felt more complete that way,” he says.  He glances at her drawing.  The rock is resplendent, resting on gold-touched grass, light captured in patches against the mosses and lichens.  “You can see all of this?  It’s incredible, Jasper.”

“It’s just what it looks like,” she says stubbornly.  “It’s a good challenge.”

“Like a conversation,” he says, half to himself.  

“Something like that.”  The breeze flutters past them, carrying faint birdsong, the far-off scent of the sea.

“Thanks for talking with me, Jasper.  I know you didn’t have to.”

“Of course.  I do what I want,” she replies, and her voice is gentler than he’s ever heard it.

#steven universe future #steven universe #suf #jasper #steven universe jasper #do not tag as ship! #the future #suf spoilers #steven universe spoilers #steven universe future spoiler #fanfoolishness' steven universe fic #fanfoolishness steven universe fic #fragments

[demivampirew]

So We Meet Again Chapter 8 (final chapter)

Henry x Reader x Chris

Summary: A recent college graduate recounters someone from her past with who things did not exactly ended up in great terms. She holds a grudge on him for that and still has unanswered questions about what happened. And someone new walks into her life.

You can find the rest of the story in the Masterlist

Triggers: Smuff (smut + fluff); drinking; breakup; homesick.

Tag list: @lunedelorient​ @angelofthorr  @henrythickcavill​ @mary-ann84​ @desperate-and-broken​ @peakygroupie @summersong69​ @ivvitm1109​  @peakygroupie @madbaddic7ed​ @iloveyouyen​ @the-soot-sprite @hell1129-blog​

A/N: Sorry for taking so long to update the final chapter. I hope you enjoy it!

When you started college, writing a book became your biggest dream and after much hard work, that ambition turned a reality. As much as you desired to be a success, you never expected, not even in your wildest dreams, that it would reach that level of recognition among the linguistics field. Now, after a long journey, here you are, getting ready to walk to the stage of the conference room of Havard College to talk about your book and then to have a discussion about it with none other than Steven Pinker, a well-known name in the community. Being able to speak about your work and the subject you're passionate about is breath-taking.  People listened to you and seemed engaged in your lecture. Dr Pinker was a delight; he had an interesting personality while being a total professional he still was funny and made the exchange of views much more fascinating. After the conversation ended, the audience started clapping. Your boyfriend started to cheer very loudly and clapping very excited. As you chuckled for Chris' childish reaction, you noticed that there was another person there, looking you with a huge grin as he clapped. It was Henry. What was he doing there? Have you told him about the event? You didn't think so, so how did he find out? As you were caught on your thoughts, a lady approach to you to show you the way of the stage for the event came to its eventual end. Many linguistic professors were waiting to have a moment to talk about your work, but you were interrupted by the same woman who told you that someone needed a word with you.

- Henry? - asked Chris surprised and confused to see the fellow actor on the audience of the event honouring his girlfriend. - Oh, hi!- he replied as if he had not seen him.- How are you? - Great! How about you? - I'm alright.- he smiled in a friendly manner. - I must say that I'm surprised to see you here.- your boyfriend admitted. - Mark mentioned it a few days ago and I had to go to New York and since I was close I decided to pop up to see the event. - the British man explained- I've known her for a long time so I know how important this book was to her and how special this moment must be, so I thought I'd be cool to be here. -I'm sure she'll appreciate it. Unfortunately, now she's busy but if you want we can find something to drink and have a little chat. - I'd love to but I can't, I'm running late. I've to go back to New York and then catch a flight to London. Would you please let her know that I'm happy for her and her success?- Henners friendly required. - Absolutely! I'll let her know you were here. Sad that you can't stay, we could have gone to eat afterwards. - Maybe next time.- he replied and smiled as they shook hands.

Chris offered to take you out for dinner but you asked him to go directly to the hotel and order something to the room. Taking off your high heels and your pencil skirt dress was relieving. After changing, you sat with your man on the couch and started to make out. - You know, Henry was there. He had to leave early because he was in a hurry but he asked me to tell you that he's happy for you and your success- Chris said. By his tone, you could tell that he didn't suspect anything about your past with the other man. - Yes, I saw him. I was surprised to see him, I wasn't expecting him to be there.- you admitted. - He told me Mark told him a few days ago and since he was in NYC he decided to come. - That's was really nice of him.- you replied, feeling strange: on one side, you still had some feelings for Henry, but on the other side, you were falling in love with Chris and happy with him. -Yep. So tell me, why did you disappear for so long after the talking. You didn't mention anything on the ride to the hotel and I'm curious about what was the important talk you were having.- he questioned. - I was offered a position as a professor in the linguistics department at the University.- you informed him. - That's fantastic! - he replied astonished.- What did you say? - I told them I was going to think about it.- you confessed. - Well, let's think about it, shall we? - he offered. - The money and the job would not be much different than the one I have in London: both pay well, both are in prestigious universities.- you compared - But, there's a perk of teaching at Harvard. - What? - Chris wanted to know. - I'd live in the US and I'd be much closer to you.- you told him and he smiled from ear to ear - Well, that and the fact that I'd have working experience in two prestigious colleges and that would benefit my curriculum.- you added. - It'd be amazing if you would live closer to me, but at the end of the day, you should do what you hearts tell you to do.- he advised as he took your hand and kissed it.

2 years later

- Hi, Mark. Could I have a Guinness? - Henry requested to the bartender. As he waited for his drink, he looked around and saw you sitting on one of the tables. His heart started to beat uncontrollably as he took in your beauty. Gosh, he'd missed you terribly. - Here's your drink.- Mark said handled him a beer and a soda. He looked at your friend confused - She's currently working on a second book, so she doesn't drink alcohol. - Thank you.- he replied smirking and paid for the drinks and then walked towards you.

- Hi, stranger.- he greeted you. - Henry! How are you? - you replied surprised as you stood up to hug him.

It's been a while since the last time you saw each other. You thanked him for going to your even and let him know that you were moving to the US to teach at Harvard University. At the same time, you completely crushed his heart by confessing him your feelings for Chris. For some time he remained hopeful that you were going to return and you would finally be together, but soon enough he had to let you go for his own good. He wanted you to be happy, as hard as that was for him and he knew Chris was a good guy. - Thank you!- you said as he gave you the soda. - No worries! So, how it's Chris? - he asked nicely as he sat on the other side of the table. - We broke up.- you confessed after a moment, taking a deep sigh. - I'm terribly sorry.- he assured you. - It's ok. It's been a few months since our breakup so I'm much better now. At first, it was hard, I'm not going to lie, but eventually, I moved on. - Did something happen between you two? - he questioned - Sorry if I don't seem polite, it's just that you two seem to be doing fine. - Nothing happened. We ended up in good terms. It just that I was homesick; time would past and I never got used to living there. Teaching at Harvard was great, but I prefer to be at home with my friends and family. Moving to London would have been the same thing for him. He's a family man and being so far away from his family it would have been overwhelming for him. So, we realized that as much as we cared for each other, this wasn't meant to be. - I'm sorry to hear that.- he said as he sympathetically reached for your hand. - How about you? Are you dating anyone? - you asked curiously as you took a sip of soda. - I dated someone for a few months last year, but it didn't work.- Henry imitated you, drinking his beer. You starred at each other in silence for a long time. Probably you were sharing the same thought: after so long, you were finally aware of the feelings that you had for one another and you were both single.

Life seemed to like to play with your feelings, but now it was the time: after so long, now your path was clear so you could live your happy ending with the man of your dreams.

He picked you up by your thighs after opening the door to his house. He carried you inside as your lips were glued to his and your tongues collied with one another. Fortunately, he left Kal on his assistant's house because she was going to take him to the vet the next morning, so the house was empty. He took you directly to the bedroom. This was a type of need you haven't had before in your entire life. You always dreamt about this but never would've thought that it'd become a reality. For a long time, it seemed as if you weren't mean to be together, but it was all matter of time. Apparently, he was as desperate for you as you were for him. After putting you on his bed, he ripped your dress and bra - his animalistic side came out: he waited way too long for that moment to care about a dress, he'd buy you a new one later as an apology. He put your breasts on his mouth. Then, he left a trail of kisses all the way down. He pleasured you with his mouth and tongue into ecstasy. You returned the favour, making him moan loudly due to the pleasure. The moment he was inside of you was indescribable. It hurt but in a good way; you felt things that you never knew they were possible. He kissed you over and over, repeating "stay with me forever".

Epilogue

And you would do that.

After just four months of dating, he proposed to you. For most people, that'd be an impulsive decision and a wrong one. For your two, on the other hand, it was the happy ending you always wished. You married seven months after that and welcome your first child a year and a half after the wedding.

#smuff #smut #henry cavill #Chris Evans #henry x reader x chris #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #demivampirew

[captainjimothycarter]

For prompts: We dated in high school but then you moved away but now you’re back in town

i’m sorry i got carried away.

--

There was something familiar about the woman waiting in line. Something Steve couldn’t quite make out. Maybe it was the curve of her body or those almond-shaped eyes that are tugging on a memory long tucked away. No, it’s defiantly those eyes. He knew those eyes anywhere.

They were the same shade of dark brown, with flecks of hazel and honey swirling in them. He knew how they looked when the sunlight would hit them, how they looked when she was furious when she was upset when she was beyond happy. He knew every emotion that she’d been able to give without saying a word through those eyes.

He’d loved those eyes. They filled his sketchbooks, even now two years after high school. He still loved her.

As the crowd cleared with their baked goods and hot coffee, Steve was finally able to draw himself up to full 6’0 height and smile down at her.

Her. Peggy.

Oh. She wasn’t alone.

His smile faltered at the sight of a little blonde boy clinging to the backside of her leg. He looked to be almost two years old, if Steve had to put an age to him. He looked just like Peggy with her nose and dimples. He had the brightest pair of blue eyes.

“Hello there,” he breathed to the shy, little boy, giving a wave of his hand that only caused the boy’s face to flush and hide. He turned to look up at the boy’s mother, his heart lurching in his throat. “And hello to you.”

Peggy’s laugh is just as he remembered, bright, and full of life. She reached over the counter to hug Steve, pressing a fond kiss to his cheek. “Hello to you.” She looked nervous as she dipped down to pick the boy up and put him on her hip. “You look amazing, Steven. This place…told you it would pick up.”

She knew Steve had a desire to work in his ma’s bakery after he graduated. He had an amazing hand when it came to decorating cakes and cupcakes. He loved to experiment and made beautiful baklava and cinnamon rolls that still lingered on her mind with a taste for them.

“Yeah,” Steve chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck and looking around at the busy place. He could hear his ma in the back, Bucky was out delivering their daily orders. Sam had just left after opening for them. “Yeah, you’re always right. Who's this?”

He felt too awkward. They’d dated in high school until she left just after graduation to return home in order to help her mother with taking care of her brother who’d suffered a career-ending injury with the military. He loved Peggy. He just never got to tell her that and seeing her here before him, it made him want to gush but become aware she had a child now, it seems. She was most likely married or at least dating, knowing her.

“Michael,” the little one said proudly, curling his h’s the way Peggy did when she was excited. “My name’s Michael and I’m two.” He held up three fingers, making Steve laugh. “And mummy and I just moved here cause she said she missed News Yorky.”

Oh God, that was adorable. Steve found himself smitten with the little boy.

“You’ve had a son?” He turned his eyes to Peggy, nodding his head at Michael, not really good with kids.

Peggy looked almost nervous as she held the little boy close to her chest, eyes fluttering towards the door. “Can we…talk?”

--

Michael sat in the little corner Steve had designed and painted for kids to enjoy themselves while their parents drank coffee and talked. He could hear the little boy humming loudly and playing with the art supplies. He turned to look at him and back to Peggy who’d nervously wrapped her hands around the blue coffee mug.

“When I left, I was distraught. Saying goodbye to you was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I was broken up about having to say goodbye to you and my brother. I didn’t know his condition. I didn’t know what happened and no one would tell me a thing until I got home because of the secrecy of the matter.”

Steve’s broad hand slowly laid over her own, rubbing the pad of his thumb against her wrist. “You did what you had to do, I don’t blame you. I only wish we stayed in contact.”

“I do too. I got so busy with Micheal and my mother and my career, I-I…” She sighed and closed her eyes, her fingertips curling around the mug to the point Steve thought she was going to break it. “At the time, I thought it was stress…missing my cycle, the sickness. Having to see your brother like that, I-I…”

Steve frowned as she stuttered. This was hard for her, but this was Peggy. Strong, confident Peggy. He unwrapped her hands and took both of them into his own. “Peggy,” he’d never sounded so serious before. “Were you…hurt?”

Her eyes snapped to his and she frowned, opening and closing her mouth. “What? No, Steven, I was pregnant!”

His hands dropped hers and he sat back, staring at her.

Oh.

Oh.

“He’s…mine?”

Peggy didn’t need to say yes. He knew. Steve knew in his heart that she wouldn’t lie about this. No one should. And he could see it in the way Michael held the pencil with his right hand, the way he looked when he was concentrating on scribbling on the paper.

“Why didn’t you call?!” Steve furiously whispered, turning to look back at her. She almost looked close to tears, but he couldn’t help the betrayal he felt. The hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?! An email. A text. Fuck, Pegs, even a letter!”

She sat there, looking impossibly small. Blinking harshly and Steve’s throat was tightening. He could feel his heart-shattering. When she didn’t reply, he continued, “I would’ve been there for you! I would’ve been by your side through it all! I would’ve supported you! Done everything I could! I would’ve moved there to be with you. I love you and you couldn’t even tell me that you were pregnant with my child?!”

If Peggy had an answer, Steve didn’t hear it. He was storming into the back of the bakery to clear his head. He needed to think. He felt incredibly guilty for yelling at Peggy but he was right in these feelings. He was betrayed. He was hurting. He had a goddamn child that he didn’t know of, who grew up so far not knowing him, and thought of him as a stranger and why?

Why hadn’t she told him? Did she not feel the same way? Was he that horrible of a boyfriend in high school that she didn’t trust him? Was she ashamed that her boyfriend had been American? The father of her son was some Yank?

A string of curses in Galiec left his lips as he rolled a piece of fondant out on the table, his hands shaking. What had he done so wrong that he’d not been allowed to be there for the birth of his son?

--

“Youse can’t say those words. Bad words. Stave?

The soft voice caused Steve to look up from where he was still bending over the metal table. He could feel the tears running down his cheeks, trying to dry his face off. For half a second, he thought it was Peggy but no…no, it was her son.

His son.

Back in this kitchen, where he wasn’t allowed.

Had Peggy taught him Gaelic? It was important to him, to cling to that part of his identity that his mother had taught him. That he loved his heritage and wanted to share it. She taught him that?

“Hey, buddy, whatcha doing back here? You can’t be back here.” He knelt down to look at the kid, seeing now how Michael had his freckles and his hair. Oh and that smile, that was his ma’s smile right there.

The boy thrusts a drawing at Steve’s chest with a bright smile. It was what he’d assume was the outside of his bakery, with its pretty fairy lights and potted plants. “I made dis. For you! Cause you’se got a pretty place and yummy cupcakes.”

His lips twitched into a smile as he rubbed his fingertips over the crayon. “It’s beautiful, buddy. Tell you what, I’ll put it up on the counter for everyone to see. Here, let’s get you back to your ma.” He picked up a sugar cookie, still warm, and passed it to the boy in trade for the paper.

Steve was a little stunned to see Peggy talking to his mother. His mother loved Peggy and said she was the daughter she never had. Her leaving had hurt his ma just as much as it had him. He was a little more stunned at seeing the sun setting. How long had he been back there crying and cursing?

“Look, mummy! Look!” Michael waved the multi-colored cookie at Peggy as he ran over to her, climbing into her lap.

“I see, Michael. Did you thank Steve?” The boy’s head nodded, shoving a bite of the cookie into his mouth. Her eyes slowly looked up to Steve before dropping back down. She whispered something to Michael and then Sarah before slipping Michael into her vacant seat.

Crossing over to Steve, she stood with a foot between them, looking up. Her eyes were rimmed pink, a telling show she was crying. Peggy hated to cry, especially in public.

“I fucked up. I can admit that. I have no grand story to tell you. I have no excuse beyond my own failure and my own fears.” She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes, her hands clenched behind her back to stable her emotions. Steve knew that sign. “When I realized I was pregnant, I panicked. My mother panicked. My brother panicked. My mother was a traditionalist and forbid me any contact with you. I allowed her to get into my head. I allowed her to control me in times of panic. I wanted you. I loved you. Hell, Steven, I love you. I should’ve come straight back home but I did not know what to do. Between Michael being dependent on me, my mother being dependent, and-and your career here. I couldn’t ruin any of that and I’m sorry. That’s all I can say. It takes away none of the damage I’ve done and I will forever be apologizing for that. I am not asking your forgiveness because I do not deserve it. I am not telling you to go bond with a-a boy whose a stranger to you and vise versa because you deserve to make that choice, I am-”

Steve cut her off, mid-sentence by closing the distance and capturing her mouth in his. By no doubt he was hurt, crushed, betrayed, still crying even but he couldn’t hear Peggy tear herself apart one more time.

“You talk too much, English,” he teased her, cupping her face. She opened her mouth and he shook his head. “Don’t. Am I hurt, betrayed, crushed? Whatever the hell you want to use, yes. God, yes I am. I won’t lie about that. But you have a child, you have my son and you went through all of that alone. You should’ve contacted me but you didn’t and now we both have to go through the consequences of that together. We have to work on that together. But I can understand why you didn’t with your mother…”

He sighed out of his nose and pressed their foreheads together, aware Peggy was crying at this point. Fuck, so was he. “I love you and never stopped and want to continue to love you. I want to get to know my son and…and…work on this. On us.” He pulled Peggy’s hand to his chest and squeezed it gently. “Let me take you to dinner – both of you.”

Peggy let out a blubbering sob and pressed her face into Steve’s chest. She sobbed to the point Steve’s entire weight was supporting hers, her arms wrapped around his waist and his around her shoulders. He rocked her side to side, kissing her temple. “I love you,” she whispered. “I love you and I will forever be making this up to you, Steve.”

Yes, Steve was hurt. Absolutely betrayed. This wouldn’t heal overnight either, but he was relieved. He knew how manipulative Peggy’s mother could be, always controlling her daughter and her desires and reflecting them onto her. She threw a fit when Peggy moved to Brooklyn and lived with the Rogers family for years for an international program. She was finally home, away from her clutches, and he could help take care of his son. Get to know his son. This would a while to heal from but Steve would. They’d heal together and find a perfect balance between them.

#Steggy #StevePeggy #Steggy Prompt #Nonny Prompt #Peggy has a child #I mean they both do #Comfort/Hurt #angst/comfort #kinda terrifying #sorry nonny this isn't what you want