don't mind meeee

Headcanon - Bucky falls in love with classic 80’s rock and sings it at Steve loudly and unexpectedly.

Steve comes into the shared kitchen of the Avengers Tower and sees Clint and Natasha sitting at the table, sharing a fruit salad.  They’re talking in quiet voices, leaning in towards one another.  Bucky is at the counter, perched on a stool, spooning sugary cereal into his mouth.

"Hey Steve," he says, milk dripping over his lips.

"Bucky," Steve chides playfully, "manners."

Bucky wipes at his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt and smiles widely, teeth bared.  Steve narrows his eyes and gestures at him, open-palmed, telegraphing an unspoken ‘Really?’

Bucky shrugs and laughs.  ”Hey, listen,” he says, “do you have a minute?  I’d… actually like to talk.”

Steve feels his heart beat a little harder in his chest, worried about what could be on Bucky’s mind.  ”Yeah, of course.”  He glances over at Clint and Natasha.  ”You want to go somewhere else?”

"Nah, here’s fine."  Bucky rests his spoon in his bowl and takes a deep breath.  "Steve, I…"  He falters, looks down.

Oh God, Steve thinks.  He says nothing, but tries to look encouraging.

"I gotta take a little time," Bucky finally continues.  "A little time to think things over."

Shit.  Steve knew that things were too good to be true.  He had gotten Bucky back after everything that had happened.  They were living together again.  They had even… admitted things.  Shared a few intimate moments.  Steve had thought that they were taking things slow enough, but now he was second-guessing himself.

"Yeah, no, that’s fine, I get that," he replies, quietly.  He looks down at the counter and traces a tile with his thumb.

"I better read between the lines, in case I need it when I’m older," Bucky says.

Steve looks up, confused.  He catches a familiar expression in Bucky’s eyes but he’s so off-balance from the conversation that he thought they were having that he can’t place it.

On the other side of the room, Nat stands up from the table and croons a gentle “Ooh ahhh” vocalization.  Steve stares at her, mouth slightly open.  Then, he realizes what is happening.

"No-" He starts to protest, but is cut off by Bucky jumping off his stool and thrusting his arm into the air.

"Now this mountain I must climb," he sings, slightly off key, "feels like a world upon my shoulders."

"Stop it, stop it this instant," Steve says to him, backing up towards the door.  Clint runs over before he can escape and blocks the doorway.  He shakes his head, a smug grin on his face.

"Through the clouds I see love shine," Bucky lowers his arm and locks his gaze on Steve.  "It keeps me warm as life grows colder."

Steve crosses his arms over his chest and does his best impression of a frown.  In spite of himself, he feels a grin creeping on to his face and a nostalgic lightness in his chest.

Bucky crosses over to where Clint and Natasha are standing by the entrance to the kitchen and starts belting out the next part of the song.

"IN MY LIFE, THERE’S BEEN HEARTACHE AND PAIN," he clutches at his chest and Clint dissolves into laughter.

"I DON’T KNOW IF I CAN FACE IT AGAIN."

Natasha picks up her role as background singer and Steve tries desperately to find a cabinet large enough to crawl into and hide.

"CAN’T STOP NOW I’VE TRAVELED SO FAR, TO CHANGE THIS LONELY LIFE."

"Please don’t do this," Steve pleads, desperate to stop Bucky before the chorus.  It is, of course, no use.

"I WANNA KNOW WHAT LOVE IS!"  Bucky sings as loudly as possible.  He falls to his knees in front of Steve.  "I WANT YOU TO SHOW MEEE!"

Steve backs up against the counter as Bucky reaches out, grasping for him.

"I WANNA FEEL WHAT LOVE IS…" he continues, and Steve can hear the barely contained laughter in his voice.  "I KNOW YOU CAN SHOW MEEEE!

Bucky finally reaches the limits of his composure and flops over in a fit of laughter.  Natasha doubles over and clings to Clint for support as the three of them cackle over Steve’s misfortune.

Steve waits until the laughter dies down and they’re all gasping for breath before he speaks.  He looks each of them in the eyes and then says:

"Get.  Fucked."

Steve stalks out of the kitchen as peals of renewed laughter follow him down the hall.

there are a lot of maskless!vader fics depicting him as this very stoic guy, which i understand and tbh probably makes more sense than what i’m about to say

it’s just that i’ve always had more fun imagining him to be extremely expressive, if only because he just got really used to the mask concealing his constant scowls, smirks, and eye rolls

and the first time he feels disapproval (it happens p quickly) he just pulls this face

and everyone is like “…. is there a problem sir” and he just thinks to himself “how could they possibly have known

I just had a really weird scenario pop into my head, as it does.

France is chilling by the coast of Calais, looking through a tourist telescope to see if he can see the British coast today, when suddenly England zooms by, feet on the surface of the water, zooming back and forth and flipping France off, shouting: ‘RULE BRITANNIA, BRITANNIA RULES THE WAAAAVES!’ at the top of his lungs while France wonders if he’s finally lost his mind, or if England has, or if they both have at the same time. Meanwhile the flabbergasted French and tourists take pictures, some shouting about the Messiah returning.

Inspired by this fanart and my own insanity.

whoa i was just thinking of 34’s demon shadow powers, and i always imagined he could levitate while using them and then i was like what if he could full on FLY only he’d be pretty awful at it anyway
but that made me think of 202 or Austin forcing him to float them around and he’d be all “YOU’RE SO HEAVY DO I LOOK LIKE A MAGIC CARPET TO YOU *HUFFS*” i’m crying

Waiting Game → Will and Ace

It was a game Ace was good at, waiting, one he tried to play both often and well. Waiting, because he always had something to prove: that someone wanted him more than he wanted them.

And though he tried not to be prone to doubts, he couldn’t help but wonder, after he’d left the club that night, whether or not Will would follow through, If he would whine and beg under Ace’s touch under the cover of darkness and flashing neon lights only to disown the need that Ace had felt in him in the harsh light of day. If, maybe, Ace had misread him, should have pushed harder and faster to take him home that night, before he could get away.

He wouldn’t lower himself so to say that he was worried, per se. Curious maybe, preparing for some light disappointment that hopefully wouldn’t come to pass. He could have hunted the man down, could have tracked him down in the Archives and messaged him, but it would be breaking a rule that he had set, even if Will wasn’t completely aware of it: that Will had to be the one to reach out. Will had to come to him.

He’s been careful, since Gareth, to make sure that he was always playing by his own rules. To assume nothing, take nothing for granted, to not allow himself any delusions of permanence. He made sure, always, as often as he could, to never allow himself to be put into a position where someone’s done with him before he’s done with them.

With Will, he hasn’t even started. He’d had Will desperate for him in the club, panting and blushing all at once, nuzzling at his face and pleading to be allowed to touch him. And he had felt powerful, with all the possibilities in front of him: to give him what he wanted or to cruelly withhold, to make him beg and beg and beg again until Ace was satisfied. It was enough to go to his head, trip him up. In that moment, flush with his own power, godlike with how much he felt Will wanted him, he hadn’t even entertained the notion that the booking might not come.

And though he entertained it later, idly wondering and checking his phone more often than he might have otherwise.

Though he really shouldn’t have worried at all, didn’t have to wait long at all.

Of course Will was good, and of course Will was obedient, and he had a booking for Saturday night. And, oh, Ace had plans. When it was five minutes to six, he sent the text, tapping out replies until he was sure that Will would do as he instructed.

And then, he waited, because he knew that Will was waiting for him. Waiting that was on Ace’s terms, now, not Will’s as a resident with the title of master whether he cared for it or not, whether or not he called Ace by the title instead, Will who had the ability to dictate who he had and when. He had waited for Will to hire him, Will had waited to hire him. But now Will was waiting for Ace, and Ace wasn’t waiting for anything at all.

Now, he was just having fun.

He didn’t count the minutes, though he wondered if Will was, wondered if he was nervous, as his shyness in the club might suggest, or if he was only anticipatory, only wanting. When he deemed enough time passed, only a span of ten minutes or so, he left his apartment, wound his way through Southampton’s grounds to Quay, shivering in the winter cold without his coat on, for once he got to where he was going, it would only be in the way.

There was a bag at his side, bumping against his leg with every step, its contents jostling against each other promisingly with his movements. He didn’t know what, if anything, Will might have. And he wanted to be able to take him by surprise. Being prepared was being professional.

The doorknob turned easily under his hand, bringing a pleased smile to his face. He’d been in enough apartments here to know the basic layouts, though he’d never been in Will’s, and it took him less than a moment to orient himself, toe his shoes off next to the door, and turn in the direction of the bedroom where Will would be waiting.

He was gradually dropping himself into the right mindset. No room for doubts, now, he wouldn’t allow himself to expect anything other than perfect obedience, anything other than Will doing exactly as he said.

— and he was, knelt to his bed and perfectly subservient, the picture in Ace’s head come gloriously to life and all the better for being right in front of him, there for him to touch and taste and take. He let his bag drop from his shoulder to carpet, padded across the room on light, bare feet to insinuate himself between Will and the bed. Taking a seat on the edge of it, he reached out to take Will by the back of his head, tug him in to lay his cheek on Ace’s thigh, looking up at him.

"Before we get started," he said, low and relaxed, indulgently stroking a hand through Will’s wild curls, "We need to get a few things out of the way. Safeword, for start. And then I want to know if there’s anything you don’t like and then, conversely, if there’s anything you really do."