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minus-plus-zer0 · 4 months ago

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The Bakusquad Gaming Group - Ch. 1 - Introduction

| Masterlist | The Bakusquad Gaming Group Masterlist | | Next | ♡ Genre: Fluff, little crack ♡ Pairing: Gamer!Bakugou x Gamer!Reader ♡ Tags: Crossover (MHA x multiple franchises), gaming AU, Quirkless AU, aged up ♡ Summary: You're a pink and girly Let's Player who recently rose to fame. Eventually, your brand grows enough to attract the attention of the (in)famous Bakusquad. Their leader, Bakugou Katsuki, has especially taken a liking to you. This story follows your daily lives together as part of the Bakusquad.

You made waves in the gaming community as an up and coming Let's Player. Your pink and cutesy aesthetic could only be matched by the cozy games you played, with the occasional Dark Souls and DOOM Eternal mixed in.

Your following grew over time but you needed to network to continue your brand growth. Although your channel currently rode high on your DOOM Eternal Let's Plays, you noticed that a popular gaming group called the "Bakusquad" made themselves known by playing Animal Crossing, and you wanted in.

You actually recognized their leader, Bakugou Katsuki (aka his username "Dynamight"), as somebody who attended your old university. But you two never interacted and you never saw him in-person. He wasn't the type of guy who would collaborate with anyone, and even his own group had a hard time getting a hold of him. This could be his and your chance to break further into the multiplayer scene.

But how would you contact him? Emailing him felt too formal for a guy who regularly shirked formalities, and he blocked whoever slid into his DM's, plus he wasn't exactly friendly in-person on the off-chance you ever got to see him face-to-face.

But after watching some of his videos, you knew the best way to get his attention was through force.

You publicly challenged him on social media to a 1v1 fight in an old fighting game that you secretly knew the ins and outs of. You purposefully chose this one since it didn't look like anything you, a girly gamer, would be interested in. You tagged him and then you called upon your followers to get his attention, but it didn't take long before he was sliding into your DMs, mad as all hell.

"What the fuck was that?" was his first text. "You seriously challenging me?"

You didn't reply. You just screenshotted his DM, posted it onto social media, and tagged him again.

Your only words in your post were, "I'm dead serious. <3"

"Oh it is on." That was Bakugou's last DM to you.

Even though it wasn't his idea, Bakugou personally led the organization of the event from here on out. He shot you multiple curt texts of the time of the event, the rules, and instructions on the technical aspects of getting you both into an online call. He even gave you his phone number so that you could communicate faster. Now that caught you off-guard.

While you rested in the privacy of your own bedroom, you dialed his number. You felt the intense urge to tease him for even giving you his contact info. Before he could get a word in, you were already on his ass.

"Do you give everybody your phone number?" you asked.

"Huh? What, hell no! This is an important event as part of both our channels so I had to--"

"You sound so much stuffier in real life, oh my gosh."

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING FLUFFY?"

"...I said stuffy, Bakugou."

"WHATEVER OKAY! That's not the freaking point! I just wanted to make sure your online connection was good enough for this old as fuck game. Why did you pick this shit anyways?!"

You could just imagine him in his house, getting all angry over a phone call. You found it highly amusing, mainly because you knew it wasn't that serious.

"It's a childhood favorite of mine," you pouted, crossing your legs on the bed. "It's very near and dear to my heart. You don't like it?"

He sighed. "If you're so fucking dead set on it, then I'm not exactly gonna back down now, am I? I just wanted to make sure this all works perfectly."

"It'll be fiiiiine, Bakugou." You hugged a video game plushie from your bed real tight. "Gee, I didn't realize you cared so much."

"It's my job! Of course I give a shit. I'll make sure this event doesn't flop 'cause of this damn fossil of a game."

"It's not gonna flop!"

Then day of the event came soon, and both of your fanbases were pretty hyped. The game itself wasn't the only interesting part. No, people were more interested in your clashing personalities.

Since you arrived on the gaming scene, people had jokingly made edits comparing your content to what "Dynamight" had to offer. Your brands were like night and day in difference. They knew from your first post tagging Bakugou that your ensuing interactions were going to be... intriguing, to say the least.

The stream started, with two of the Bakusquad members Kaminari Denki (aka "Chargebolt") and Jirou Kyoka (aka "Earphone Jack") helping with the technical side of things, as well as moderation of your chats. Kaminari oversaw Bakugou's chat, while Jirou oversaw yours. Needless to say, this caused numerous arguments between Bakugou and Kaminari. At least you and Jirou got along well enough despite your difference in aesthetics and Jirou's frustrations with the technical issues.

The first match would be starting soon. For the first three rounds, your arena would be a barren field with a galaxy backdrop. Bakugou specifically chose the plainest arena to best show off your skills and nothing else. You and Bakugou were on an online call together, streamed live to both of your audiences.

"You fucking ready for this, princess?" he asked.

"Only if you're ready for me, prince."

You saw Bakugou smirk wider at your comment through his rarely used onscreen camera. It made you feel in some way you couldn't describe.

Your character was a real firecracker on the field, despite their delicate and sweet-looking appearance. You caught Bakugou's fire-based barbarian character off-guard several times, punishing him every time he thought he could attack you recklessly.

Bakugou let out a stream of expletives, with many new swear words being created on the spot. He caught you laughing and he said, "Don't laugh at me, dammit! I'm not fucking done!"

He attacked viciously but he also learned not to throw his character around willy-nilly. Still, he wasn't a match for you and he couldn't get enough hits in before you threw him off the stage entirely. He tried to leap back up to grab the stage's ledge, but you spiked him straight down. His character died from falling offscreen.

Both your fanbases were going nuts at Bakugou's amateur playstyle. This was the first time he'd been taken off-guard in a fighting game. And it was worse knowing that you were beating him down like a professional MMA fighter beats down a sickly old grandpa on his deathbed. Bakugou was beyond livid, but instead of his earlier rampant boisterous rage, he was now silent and focused and seething.

"Somebody's a little pissed," you crooned into your microphone, your hands gripping your controller as you awaited his character to respawn. "Oh come on, Bakugou, it's not that serious..."

"You won't be saying that when I beat you," he said.

The second round was much worse for you. Bakugou grew much more defensive, and your offensive game was not nearly good enough to avoid retaliatory punishment from his character. You kicked him, he countered you and punched back, sending you flying off the stage to the point where you couldn't leap high enough to reach the arena. Your character fell to their death, somewhere into the beautiful galaxy backdrop.

Bakugou shot a stupidly handsome self-satisfied grin at his camera, and you knew for a fact that it was meant for you.

You sent him a well-trained, super sweet pageant smile that told him, "You are so fucking dead I swear to fucking god once I am done here your character will regret the day he was ever fucking born." Hopefully he got the message.

This was your last round of your first match, and there was no chance in hell you were going to throw the fight away that easily. You glanced at Bakugou's screen to gauge his reaction but he was glancing away from his game, and you wondered if he was looking at you.

The final round started and your characters traded blows like old archnemeses. Your character dashed quick as lightning, but you couldn't get any clean hits on Bakugou's character at all. Bakugou's character hit way, way harder and you struggled to remain on stage every time he sent you flying.

You had to admit, you were impressed. He was literally beating you at your own game. Still, you had dealt enough damage to his character little-by-little that you could tell he was getting nervous.

His barbarian character punched yours so hard he sent you flying, again. You were floating back towards the stage while he awaited you at the ledge.

"Almost fucking done here," he said, his voice almost a growl.

"You gotta tone down that ego of yours," you said, with a smile.

His character swiped at yours but you countered hard, your pink magic shooting him right backwards. Then, your character grabbed him, threw him over the ledge, and kicked him straight into the offscreen abyss.

You shrieked and cheered, bursting into a little happy dance. The chat was going wild seeing Dynamight perform poorly in a fighting game, for the first time. You looked at Bakugou's screen and he wasn't even mad. His back was slumped against his chair and his hand stroked his face, obscuring his true expression. But he was staring at your character's victory animation onscreen very seriously, like he couldn't believe it.

"Holy crap!" Kaminari's voice chimed into the call. "What a match! That's a great way to introduce yourself to someone! I can't believe you two have never collaborated before, we really gotta do this again sometimes because I have never, and I mean never, seen somebody kick Bakugou's ass like that."

"Shut it, Dunce Face."

"Aw come on! The night's still young! How about we play a few more rounds?"

Your eyes flickered to Bakugou's screen, then to your camera. "One more round, Bakugou?"

Bakugou exhaled through his nose. Then, he addressed his camera, his face morphing into a deadly smirk.

"This stream isn't ending until I beat you."

The stream didn't end for hours.

Bakugou had basically challenged you on your home turf, which was the biggest mistake of his life. You won most of the matches, and although Bakugou did win some, he could only go home happy if he won all of them. And as an unofficial referee, Kaminari would only consider it Bakugou's win if Bakugou won at least a majority of the matches, but Bakugou couldn't manage that either.

You had so much fun that night. You not only fought Bakugou but you also occasionally let Jirou and Kaminari get in on the matches. Other Bakusquad members also poked their head into the streams and joined in at certain points. Even though you had never met these people before, it felt like you were already fast friends.

You already felt incredibly comfortable around Bakugou, maybe even more so than the others. Once the stream ended, the rest of the Bakusquad congratulated you on the good stream but said their quick goodbyes as it was getting late. However, Bakugou stayed up and switched you two to a facetime video call through your computers.

Your heart raced upon seeing him but your face didn't give away any fear. This was very sudden, but you didn't mind witnessing what Bakugou was like in private. A strange feeling bubbled up within you. Meanwhile, Bakugou slumped back in his chair, his head propped up by one fist as he took your appearance in.

"So?" you said, looking playful and coy. "Guess it's not that bad of a game after all. Your viewers were higher with me around."

"Don't get cocky," he said. "Yours were higher than I've ever seen on your channel too."

"My channel?" You spun lightly left and right on your gaming chair. "I didn't realize you were a fan."

Bakugou lips turned up somewhat. "It's obvious that I'd fucking watch your videos before I collaborated with you. Duh. But... I've actually been watching your shit for a while now."

You knew that anybody who gamed with you would likely watch your content, so this wasn't surprising. But for some reason, hearing Bakugou say it put you on the spot, unlike how you indifferent you felt with past gaming partners. Bakugou could've watched any of your videos, even the cringy anime dating sims you played two weeks ago. At least you never played anything inappropriate on your channel...

"So you are a fan," you said, cheekily.

"So fucking what." He looked so irritated by your comment, but you only found his pissy face to be cute. "Yes, I'm a fucking fan. I've been a fan since you fucking started. Happy?"

"Wait, really?" You stopped spinning in your gaming chair. He looked like he regretted saying those words. "Oh my gosh, I would've never guessed if you hadn't told me! Do you put on my videos just to hear my voice? Do you buy all my merch? Do you want some of my gamer girl bath water--"

"Will you stop that?!" His face was a furious shade of red. You wanted to screenshot it so bad but he'd catch you red-handed. "I just said I'm a fucking fan, I didn't say I was delusional."

"You didn't need to," you said with a smile. You pointed at his face on the screen. "It's written all over."

"WHAT?!"

You burst into laughter. He could only stare dumbfounded at his monitor. He grumbled about how you were oh so impossible to deal with, but that didn't wipe the smile off your face.

"Really though, I'm glad..." you said, as your giggles faded away. "I'm always grateful for my fans, Bakubestie."

"Oh you've got nicknames for me now?"

"You're the one that called me 'princess'."

"You don't need to comment on everything I do, alright?" His face was burning brighter again. "Enough about me and all my supposed funny flaws you wanna point out. I wanna talk about you. You a fan of me or what?"

He tried to look cool while saying that. But by the way he leaned on his desk, closer to your screen, you could tell he was really interested in your answer. You backed away from your desk a bit, because his close presence embarrassed you.

"Of course I'm a fan," you said. "Who wouldn't be a fan of 'Dynamight'?"

His face cracked a handsome and cocky grin. "'Course you are." His voice possibly lowered an octave when saying that. "Since you're such a big fan of me, and I'm such a big fan of you, how about we partner up more often?"

He looked confident, but you could see his heart beating fast through his tight shirt.

That made you more confident in turn.

"Yes please, Dynamight."

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cambion-companion · 1 year ago

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BG3 Companions on a Halloween Date

YES I was itching to do something for the BG3 gang for the season. You could say it's been bugging me. Hah. Ok sorry it's the influence of my pfp.

Let's start with

You want a cozy night in under the covers, watching scary movies (or puppet shows or whatever the heck is the equivalent in Faerun) but he's not sold on the idea. "I've seen enough horror to last me several lifetimes, darling."

Instead Astarion would take you out in the crisp Autumn air, under the distant sun, for a walk crunching through the dried leaves of brown and red.

He'd want to go to the pumpkin patch to find the perfect gourd for a Jack-o-Lantern.

When the sun set so very early in the afternoon, you'd retire back to your cozy abode and set to carving faces into your pumpkins.

Astarion of course would make short work of his, dexterous as ever with those knives, and he would do his best to shape the face into what he hopes he looks like.

Either that or, depending on where you're at in his character arc, he'd remake Cazador BEFORE gutting it and making a whole show of utterly eviscerating the poor Halloween decoration. "Astarion, this is supposed to be relaxing." "This IS my ideal downtime."

You want someone who will snuggle under the covers and watch Hocus Pocus with you? Wyll is your man. But sorry I'm trying to keep to a less modern AU.

Wyll seems like the kind of guy who would put on some fitting music as you two cooked together, dancing in the kitchen intermittently and almost forgetting to check on the cookies before they burned.

He's such a sweetheart, checking to make sure you're happy with just spending an evening indoors with him. "We can go out on the town if you desire, sweetheart." "No, Wyll, I've told you this is absolutely perfect."

Depending on the choices you've made with him thus far, Mizora might pop in to dip her finger in the batter and bamf out again, giving ya'll a cheeky wink. "Ta ta, love imps. You make me physically ill."

Sigh, you're back for more bones hm?

Alright I'll entertain you.

You ask Withers to dance to Spooky Scary Skeletons. He looks at you, unimpressed. "Get thee hence." "Wilt thou harass someone else?"

Ideally I would propose and she'd say "yes". Oh what? Sorry, I was miles away.

For a Halloween date. Hm. A corn maze. Definitely.

She'd be all about her tutelage under Shar's freaks followers and want to show off her sneaking skills.

It would turn into a game of hide-and-go-seek and then it'd get a little creepy before she'd inevitably pounce on you and you'd end of in a fit of laughter together.

"I wasn't going to hurt you!" "Well, Shaddy, sometimes I wonder." "Good to keep you on your toes, then." "Careful, I saw a pond on the way in."

Then you two would go and get some candied apples and chat about memories and flowers that bloom in the gloaming.

Oh Gale.

He'd love to read to you out of a classic gothic novel (cough cough Dracula cough cough) while you two cozy up under some blankets.

He'd probably get fresh with you and run a hand up your leg or something, OH SORRY this is post the patch that fixed that? OK. He'd wait an extra hour.

Tara would curl up next to you and listen as he read from the book, the firelight crackling and warming your bodies as the night grows dark outside.

Afterward he would ask if you'd like to be guided into the Astral plane where you can look down on the All Hallow's Eve festivities below.

yeah, gotta give Tiefling daddy some love. Especially since I still feel bad for massacring them all my last playthru.

Zevlor is another who has seen his fair share of horror, and he would opt to do something more lighthearted with you for a Halloween date.

He seems like a family kind of man, so I expect he would invite the whole gang over for a delicious dinner. Mol and her friends, Arabella and her parents. Rolan and Zorru and maybe even Auntie Ethel will sneak in there. Then it really WOULD be a Halloween experience.

After the dinner and the guests are snoozing or already left he'd wrap an arm around you and pull you close. "Would you accompany me outside? I would like to show you the stars and tell their tales. It's been so long since I've gotten to properly admire them. Or you."

Of course I have to include the daddy devil, who do you think I am?

Raphael would take you to a haunted house, of course. OF COURSE.

Hell, what better house that is haunted than the House of Hope?

It would be horrifying for you, since the no touching rules don't apply there, and most amusing for him.

You'd practically climb the cambion in your efforts to avoid the ghosties, especially that one who constantly says "huuuurt meeee, pleeeaaase."

Raphael would enjoy watching you squirm, and remind you such a fate would not be yours only IF you followed his rules.

Oh yeah, and maybe if you're lucky, or perhaps very unlucky, he'll invite you to his Boudoir.

Oak Father frowns on dissecting pumpkins for the sake of creating superfluous lanterns (or something...I heard it from a friend who heard it from a friend, ok)

Instead, Halsin would druid craft you vines and harvest fruits in whatever shapes, sizes, and colors you desired.

He'd also want to go trick or treating so BADLY. "But Halsin, you're eight feet tall and built like a linebacker. No one is going to mistake you for a kid." Then he'd cast Disguise Self and you'd be forced to take him out on the town in hunt of candy.

Poor guy didn't have much of a childhood and wants to experience the finer things in life. Get those king sized candy bars...just once.

You are a bit huffy, having expected a more...romantic evening than this. But he'll make it up to you later winkwonk , till you can bearly stand it.

You guys would get all CUTE and gussied up together.

Go out on the town.

Pick the best looking victim to be a sacrifice to Lolth.

Wait...what?

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hwanchaesong · 7 months ago

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━⁠☞🍽️ Seventh Course: Picture perfect revenge, the definition of the burnt dessert that is brewing inside your unhinged mind. Well, he deserves it though. 🥢

🎧: Olivia Rodrigo - Jealousy, Jealousy

wc: 816

genre & warnings: angst, non-idol au, cheating, hints of insecurity, reader drinking wine, cursing, lovers to exes, etc etc

a/n: this is a part of The Sour Restaurant series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

You scroll through your phone, sipping on your red wine and laughing to yourself. Giggling like a maniac because the ridiculousness of the situation is truly astounding.

It was a magnificent occasion, one that would normally make people cry but not you.

No, you are built differently.

The discovery that you dug made you so happy you think you're about to burst in excitement.

Because finally, fucking finally! Freedom is nigh and clean air will finally clear your black lungs.

You gaze at the clock, the man that you are waiting for will be home soon, and you are so fucking ready for a confrontation.

Soon enough, your boyfriend enters your shared apartment, jumping a little when he sees your figure in the shadows, indifferently sitting there with a menacing expression.

"Are you okay? Is something wrong?" he frowned when you replied with a scoff, slowly walking in your direction.

The entire living room is dark, the only source of light is the one from the hallway near your bedroom. It gives an ominous vibe in the atmosphere, exactly what you want to exude.

"Y/N, seriously, I don't have time for this. I j-"

You rolled your eyes at his audacity, shoving your phone in his face so he can gawk at the evidence of his betrayal.

He is nothing but a mere asshole in the entirety of this relationship, so thank the heavens for giving you a reason to leave.

Ever since he entered your life, his presence always gave you the sinking feeling of insecurity.

Paranoia at its finest, you could say.

It was all good at first. You can even say with confidence that he was the perfect boyfriend. He makes you feel like you're on top of the world, the only girl that he loves, the happiest person on earth.

But who knows what will happen, right?

His sublime image is merely a performance for you to enjoy and hate later on, especially when you start seeing the signs.

Going home to you smelling like a girl's perfume. Lipstick stain on the collar of his polo shirt. Being secretive on whatever is in his phone.

"Must be your imagination, baby."

"Oh this? This is nothing. I'll wash it later."

"Listen, privacy is also an important aspect of a relationship."

Fuck that privacy. You merely wanted to play games on his phone because waiting in line in his favorite restaurant bore you to death. Must he be so stingy?

Stingy because the shit excuse of a man was hiding something.

You have been tolerating his bland show for a while now, might as well give him a tip for giving you entertainment despite it not being worth your time.

"Tell me I'm crazy now." you smirk, victorious in the battle where you have been wounded far too many times to the point that you can't even bear to look in the mirror without wanting to vomit.

You've had enough comparing yourself to the girls that he hangs out with.

Girls that are way skinnier, comfortable in showing too much skin, wear make up like it's an extension of their body.

Then you saw this very suspicious lady that seemed to be a bit closer to your boyfriend than the others.

You can't help but be jealous of her pretty face, lavish lifestyle, and it seems like her friends love her so much.

But hey, you may be a tad bit insecure but you ain't a raging loser, you are ready to let your inner sherlock holmes out and prove a point.

"What was it again? You are not cheating and it's just all in my head?" here you are, showing him the proof of your hard work and catching him red handed.

Did he really think that you won't see him and that girl making-out in a photo that was posted by his friend a week ago.

No matter how pixelated it was or even if your eyesight is bad, you will definitely see it.

"Y/N, that is not what you think." he tried to explain, and you do not understand the reason for his panic as you confidently push him out of the flat.

"Wooyoung, I've seen, heard and smelled enough. I think it's time for you to shut the fuck up." you give him a fake smile, finally giving him a harsh strike on his chest that got him stumbling in the front of the apartment.

"Please, hear me out." he begs but no, your heart is not made out of cotton to listen to him.

Whatever befalls him, he deserves it.

"Go spend the night with your bitch and come back here tomorrow to gather your belongings while I'm at work. Goodbye."

You shut the door in his face, not paying attention to his knocks and pleas.

Finally, some peace and quiet in your mind, heart and soul.

taglist:

@acciocriativity @iarayara @stolasisyourparent @xdannix @nsixns @heartssol @vixensss @shakalakaboomboo

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chappellroansdreamgirl · 9 months ago

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good luck, babe! [e.w x fem!reader.]

chapter one.

author's note!<3 - this is inspired by chappell roan's unreleased song good luck, babe! i lllloooovveee chappell roan! this was originally going to be just a LONG ASS one-shot but i don't think i can write any more tonight 😭😭 . BUT I REALLY WANNA PUBLISH IT SO HOPEFULLY YOU GUYS LIKE IT!!!! also forgive me if there's any grammar/spelling errors... i'm posting this at 12:59 am🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶 . reblogs and comments are SO appreciated!!! i busted my ass for y'all 🤗 .

content warnings - SLIGHT angst, reader has internalized homophobia and is outright homophobic to ellie, reader is in the closet, ellie is a lovergirl and she's going through the five stages of grief, modern!au, reader gets sexually assaulted/harrassed, LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYTHING ELSE!!!!

special thanks to!!!!: @sharkfemme and @dykedearest FOR HELPING ME OUT!!!!!! and also LYNN AND MAXIM!!! ALL FOUR OF YOU ARE AMAZING BETA READERS I'M KISSING YOU ALL THROUGH THE PHONE RN!!!

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it's fine, it's cool.

ellie's grip on her glass got impossibly tighter as her eyes never left your figure, your body swaying to whatever shitty mainstream pop music that was playing.

ellie williams hated secrets. she hated surprises, and she hated being in love with you.

she hated the way you would ghost her after spending a week at her apartment. she hated the way you would stop responding to her texts after you would leave. she hated the way she would let you back in when you needed her, she hated how much she loved to comfort you. she hated how gentle you were when it was just the two of you, compared to how cruel you got in public.

you can say that we ain't nothin' when you know the truth.

ellie took her hand off the glass and gripped the bar table instead, afraid that if she broke another glass she'd be banned from the bar.

you were like forbidden fruit to her, or maybe that was what she was to you.

she knew you weren't ready to come out of the closet. she understood that. so, why keep on playing this fucking game with her?

why did she even still feed into it?

i guess i'm, the fool.

the closet was made out of glass, really. you would stare at every woman's body that passed you, your eyes would scan up their short dress, she could see the curiosity and desire in your face.

but every single time after you two would hook up, there was always a new excuse.

"i'm not a fucking lesbian, ellie. i just... don't like men sometimes." sometimes?

"they're just stupid thoughts... it's not like i could ever be with a woman." but you had been. you had been with her.

"ok but... do you even count as a woman? you wear boxers, you don't even know the meaning of the term ladylike and... i don't know- look at your fuckin' hair! the closest you'd get is a transwoman." that one had hurt her. she didn't talk to you for a month after you made that comment. and then you appeared in her apartment complex hallway, sobbing hysterically.

and of course, she took you back.

like she always does.

with her arms out like an angel, through the car sun-roof.

she hated playing this fucking game with you. it was killing her.

every single time she'd see you at this bar, she imagined you dragging her onto the dancefloor. she imagined being able to walk out with your hand in her's, waking up to your groggy groans when the sun invaded the sacred space of your shared bedroom, you'd hide your face in her neck, mumbling something about, "shouldn't have drank that much last night."

every single time you pulled this shit on her, it felt like her already shattered heart broke off into impossibly tinier pieces.

"i wish you were a boy." crack.

"it's not easy for me like it is for you, els. i don't know the first thing about being proud of myself." crack.

"this hurts me more than you, baby." shattered. her heart was shattered.

it hurts you more than her?

the fucking audacity.

the nights she spent crying next to your sleeping figure.

the hours she'd spent texting you and checking her phone second after second after goddamn second.

the way she would ignore every single obligation she had to pick you up from whatever shit-hole situation you had found yourself in, immediately and happily dropping anything to make sure you were ok.

and it hurt you more than it hurt her?

you didn't know shit about hurt. about misery. about love.

i don't wanna cut it off!

her friends had told her to cut you off. her therapist said in his own professional shrink way that you would never be good for her. at least not while you weren't even good for yourself.

but she couldn't let you go. it seemed like every reason that she had to leave you, fuelled her determination to stay.

but you don't wanna call it love!

every single time you somehow broke her heart in a new way, she fell harder in love with you.

you just wanna love someone that calls you baby!-

ellie was pulled out of her internal anger when your eyes met hers. although it was only a few seconds ago, it felt like she was staring into your eyes for an eternity.

don't fuckin' wave, ellie. look away- LOOK AWAY. , she thought to herself as she was unable to look away from your beautiful irises.

you had this slight smile on your face, the dancefloor's led lights adding a shimmer to your already twinkling eyes.

it felt like her melancholy thoughts had lifted and increased all at the same time by the sight of you acknowledging her presence.

ellie went against her better judgement, her slender hand flying up to wave at you. her lips quirked upwards gently as she scanned your delighted face.

your light expression quickly turned into one of frustration, suppressing your grin with a tightening of your lips before pulling the nearest man close to you in for an unexpected kiss, opening your eyes once you knew the mystery man's were closed, locking your eyes onto ellie's before closing them once more.

the light had died in ellie's stomach after that. her happy hand that was raised in the air faltered painfully back to her side as she watched the man's hands roam down from your sides... to your waist... to your ass.

you can kiss a hundred boys in bars,

those butterflies that she had just felt in her tummy had died slowly, turning into knots of anguish.

she watched your hands cradle the man's face. those same hands that had counted each and every freckle on her face on a snowy morning that had you both stranded in her apartment.

those same hands that had a death-grip on her back as you sobbed into her shoulder every other weeknight as she tried to muffle her own cries.

those same hands that had shoved her violently as she finally tried to stand her ground one afternoon you showed up knocking on her door. "you know what... fuck you, ellie! i don't know why i keep on doing this shit with you anyways." you said, before storming off. you called her later that night. she answered. "i'm sorry, els. i'm sorry, i'll do better, i'm so sorry-" , "it's ok, baby. it's ok. i know you didn't mean it. you're ok baby, i forgive you."

shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling!

she would've stayed in that seat, stewed in her anger for a bit more before the tears inevitably came falling down if it wasn't for the way the dude's hands creeped under your skin-tight jeans and how you flinched away from his grasp, breaking the kiss immediately with a nervous giggle creeping up.

the guy obviously took it as an invitation to do more, placing his hand back on your waist and agressively pulling you closer.

you can say it's just the way you are,

ellie's head tilted as she watched this go down.

what she wanted to do was launch that creep into the nearest wall and make sure he never tainted your body again. but she didn't want to get up too soon, she wanted to be certain that you needed help, whether you wanted it or not.

your hand stopped him from coming any closer, placing it right before his chest. you said something along the lines of, "don't want to do anything." .

make a new excuse, another stupid reason-

instead of him being a decent human being and leaving you alone, his face quickly turned into one of anger. his jaw jutted out as he tried to pull you in again, leaving you thrashing against his body.

how was no one else seeing this? why was no one else doing anything?!

she didn't even have time to process what she was about to do. her feet were on the ground, marching their way towards you before she could even think about her course of action in a smart way.

"let me go, fuckin' creep!" she heard you shriek as she grew closer to you, attempting to elbow him in the chest.

ellie felt like no matter how fast she was walking, she would never make it to you in time.

he laughed tauntingly as he grinded against. "i'm the creep, bitch?! you kissed me f-"

his last word was stolen from him as ellie forcefully pushed him off you with and landed a blow against his nose.

he groaned in pain, falling to the ground as he cradled his now-broken-nose.

you gasped in shock and horror. "what the fuck, ellie?!" you scolded her. as if you would've been fine on your own.

she ignored your words though, pulling the guy's hand away as she forced another punch to his face.

now people were finally looking.

she didn't stop until she felt your hands on her stomach, pulling her away from the scene.

"she fuckin'... said... no!..." ellie's voice thundered, erratic breaths in between her words before bringing one last painful kick to his face before letting you lead her out of the bar and into the night air.

you didn't stop even after you two were at the entrance door of the establishment, you made sure the two of you were far enough away that ellie wouldn't be caught if the police were called.

she couldn't help but feel those stupid fucking butterflies again as your hand gripped hers and felt a little disappointed when you dropped it, suddenly all too aware that you were still in public.

her green eyes met your own, yours filled with anger and chaos... hers filled with love.

"hey, swan." the auburnette sighed out simply, that stupid love-grin back on her face as she was finally close to you.

your eyebrows furrowed in disbelief as your hands went to massage your temples. you let out a humorless giggle. "you're so... fucking stupid, ellie!" you exclaimed, shoving her chest as if she was in the wrong.

her grin turned into a confused frown as she surrendered her hands in the air, her eyebrows mirroring your own now. "wh-wh....what-"

good luck, babe!

"god, you have this severe goddamn saviour complex or some shit!... i was fine! i was fucking fine on my own before you marched in and assaulted that guy."

well good luck, babe!

you gaslighted beautifully, defending the man you knew nothing about over the woman who was fatally in love with you, she almost believed you.

ellie's frown turned into an angry smile as she brought a hand to gently wipe over the bridge of her nose, a mannerism of her's she had developed whenever she got frustrated with you.

"assau-... ok, sure-... you wanna talk about assault, baby? that fuckin' guy would've assaulted you if i didn't step in. he was assaul-"

you shut your eyes tightly the way you do when you wanted to block something out that ellie was obviously right about. you shook your head stubbornly. "gggoddd ellie- it was my fault! i wanted it and then i didn't. i shouldn't have- i shouldn't have kissed him in the first place. i gave him mixed signals, i-"

you'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling!-

your eyebrows grew dangerously closer to your face as you cradled your head in your hands.

ellie was quick to walk right back to you, caressing your arms.

"what? baby, no. no, it's not your fault... that- that fuckin' guy... hey... look at me, sweetheart." she cooed lovingly.

good luck, babe!

you slowly brought your hands away from your face, meeting her breathtaking green eyes.

you wanted to fall into her arms, you wanted to thank her for coming to your rescue and kiss her and confess to her how scared you truly were.

but you didn't. you never did.

your slightly calm expression that came over you once you met your secret lover's gaze turned into one of annoyance. ellie was, like always, taken by surprise as you thrashed against her grip, just like the way you did with that monster in the bar.

good luck, babe!

ellie's eyes blurred with tears as she watched your face turn into a grimace.

"fuck you, ellie." you said quietly as you broke free from her hands, storming off into the night. leaving her. like always.

you'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling.

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sweetkpopmusings · 5 months ago

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changbin coworker headcanons <3

a/n: i hate that it took me SO. LONG. to upload another coworker headcanons post :-((( i'm currently suffering in the office so thinking about giggly coworker!changbin is my saving grace <3 pics not mine~

content: fluff, nonidol!au | wc: 0.9k | warnings: none really! some mentions of food | pairing: coworker!changbin x gn!reader | requests: open

it’s honestly hard to remember a time at work when you and changbin weren’t friends

changbin was always known for being good-natured, friendly, and an absolute joy to be around, which you were informed of on your first day

needless to say, people were quite jealous when you became the favorite of the most well-liked person in the office

changbin would argue that you’re the most liked though because he likes you so much, with all his heart, forever and ever

he tells you this like every day :,-( just the cutest

speaking of changbin being cute

he is determined to turn any bad day around asap

like the second he sees the hint of a frown on your face, he is going full y/n-deserves-the-best-day-ever mode

he’ll do anything from impromptu girl group dance performances every time he walks by your desk to reading dozens of dad jokes off a random website to absolutely CHEESIN’ at you until you smile back

also totally is on his rich kid behavior when it comes to buying you snacks, drinks, trinkets, or anything else he thinks you need to get through the workday

any time you offer to pay him back he looks like he’s going to cry because “i just want to treat you!! you are my friend!! i can only survive the hours of the workday because you’re here!! the least i could do is buy you this thing!!”

“this thing” is like a five course meal on a wednesday but whatever you say changbin <33

even though he feels it’s his daily responsibility to make sure you’re working in a stress-free environment, good luck doing anything in peace

his voice is on max volume 97% of the time

and the other 3% his voice is on bass boosted whisper

if you sit next to him in a meeting, he WILL get you in trouble for disrupting the presentation

if you’re not talking to him, he’d whisper “y/n!!! why are you ignoring me???” and then your boss would call you both out for being disruptive and you’re sitting there like ???? i’ve been completely silent

before you can say anything to defend yourself, changbin is apologizing and saying “we’ll never do it again” which is a total lie lmao

he doesn't care though. he sits next to you every time and will throw a fit if you run away

you’re his buddy so it's mandatory in his mind to sit with each other at all times

changbin also gets jealous of other coworkers hanging out with you

like someone asks you how your weekend went and he is in a tiff because "i can't believe you're replacing me with them!!!!!!” and you barely remember their name but you spend 30 minutes cheering changbin up so he stops pouting and does his work

somehow you’ve become a changbin babysitter because really he’s just a goofy little kid

sometimes coworkers will ask you for tips on working with changbin

whenever he’s collaborating with others, he ends up (unintentionally) derailing brainstorms or group meetings by telling a story or making jokes that are the slightest bit related to the conversation at hand

and people love his charm but they also need to do their work

which is why, after you pass one one successful trick, people come to you ALL the time for advice

you’re now known as the changbin expert

changbin finds this out at a company party and while he confronts you for “exposing seo changbin trade secrets” he actually is SO endeared by the fact you’re known for knowing him so well

he shares this with all of his friends because he wants to brag yet again about how you’re the coolest person ever and therefore he is the luckiest person ever

while a lot of the time with changbin is all fun and games, he knows when to take a step back and bring you calm energy or serious moral support

it may not be his default state to refrain from giggling and dancing, changbin cares deeply about your wellbeing and will switch up his vibe according to your mood/needs

absolutely the BEST listener whenever you need to rant

like he books out a (soundproof) conference room so you can talk trash about a project or a person

and the whole time he is agreeing with you wholeheartedly

if you ask, he’ll offer you solutions, but he’s also willing to simply be a shoulder to cry on or someone to listen to whatever’s weighing on your mind

obviously, you thank him for it every time, and he reassures you that it’s just him doing his job

when you remind him of what his actual job is, he says he got promoted to “y/n’s emotional support coworker”

you laugh so hard at this that it becomes an inside joke between the two of you

for his birthday, you get him a nameplate for his desk with that job title, and he loves it so much he nearly cries :-( he shows it off to everyone for weeks and places it prominently on his desk to remind everyone who your #1 fan is :’-)

no one tells you this, but the truth is that, before you started working there, changbin never had the zoomies as often as he does now

for as much as he is known to be your support system, meeting you reinvigorated his presence in the workplace, and seeing you in the morning is enough to turn his mood completely around

that’s why, even on his worst days, changbin wants nothing more than to make you smile even if it means he has to scramble at the end of the day to finish the report that was due the next morning lol because you, without having to try, are changbin’s sunshine <3

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abysshare · 1 month ago

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I feel like this needs to be said but i feel like I'll just be talking to a brick wall for the billionth time.

The ableism of disabled villains in fandom is so beyond tiring. Its bad enough when a grey or protag character gets it.

Today I'll be using Curly from Mouthwashing and William Afton from FNAF as an example.

Curly, isn't really a grey character. Maybe more of a protag, but since we play as Jimmy for most of it, he is kind of an antag. But for this post i will be putting him as a protag. Which reminder.

Protag doesn't mean good guy exactly.

Anyway.

Captain Curly is a burn survivor as well as a disabled man, with no skin, no hands or feet, and is left with one eye. The damage is pretty bad, and the Nurse ( Anya ) has done the best she could with what she had, which is pretty damn good considering all things.

How does the fandom treat him? Its a mixed bag but of course. Ableism.

They either give him "dog buttons", or infantalize him, coquette-ify him, erase the situation just because "its easier" or whatever else. And then theres some people who genuinely try by getting him to a proper hospital so Anya or another doctor can try and fix what they can, as well as give him an AAC device or a wheelchair, so on and so forth.

Its either shit as unfortunately expected or good enough that makes people genuinely do research or call out ableism.

Now lets look at William Afton. A villain, murderer, mad scientist and so forth. For this post I'll be strictly talking about The Fourth Closet William Afton and Burntrap.

For those who are not into FNAF. The Fourth Closet is a seperate timeline from the games, an AU. And Burntrap is TECHNICALLY not William now, but when Security Breach came out, we didn't know this.

A bit more backstory for those who do not know. William has an Animatronic suit that he can go into to perform or kill, but it has these things called springlocks. If something happens, they can go off and hurt and eventually kill him.

Moving on.

William Afton is a Springlock Victim ( and even though no fire happens in the book before the ending of The Fourth Closet, i would argue and say he does indeed have burn scars as well in the graphic novel ) aka ragged Metal throughout his skin.

As Burntrap, he is a metal burned skeleton with leftovers of Springtrap/Scraptrap with burnt flesh.

How does the fandom treat both versions of him?

As Burntrap: some people like him, some don't. Its purely because at the first reveal we all thought it was William himself somehow even though he is supposed to be dead-dead for real. His design CAN be cool, scary and great in the right spotlight.

However.....

Most people took the "haha peepaw" route of memes. Some being ageist and some being ableist. Making him a senile old man in a wheelchair or a walker with Vanny being his caretaker. Most of the time throwing him down the stairs or beating him with his mobility aid or threatening to. Sometimes they would also draw him in diapers with poop in it.

Utterly disgusting, ageist and ableist behavior all because this is a villain.

How do they treat TFC version of William? Well.... i don't see much of him to be frank. But either its coquette-ifying him ( which is just as gross as coquette-ifying Curly ), genuinely calling him pretty or being absolutely being ableist/rancid, or removing his scars all together.

What is the point I'm getting at?

If its a villain, like William, to Darth Vader to Hordak from the She Ra remake, to Belos from TOH.......

They get mocked for their disabilities because abled folks ( and even some disabled folks ) thinks the Villain or whoever deserves it as punishment.

But these same people will turn around and infantilize and baby, or dogify or coquetteify "good guy" disabled characters.

I haven't seen this in the Arcane fandom, while i don't doubt people have been ableist to Jinx, Silco or Viktor , at least it isn't as "loud".

Ableism isn't cute or funny. And while i UNDERSTAND these are characters- and that they are not real.

It HURTs real people.

And I'm talking as a disabled chronic pain person, so don't even start with me.

Ableists and shit will be deleted, ty.

Edit ( 12 / 9 / 2024 ): to add to this, i still see people making jokes, especially to make self shippers feel bad ( those who self ship with springtrap ), about how William most likely passed human fluids and gasses as he died-

Yeah. News flash: you do that no matter how you die. Even later in a casket as you're rotting away.

Now.. the act of him doing that as he dies isn't ableist within itself. But the fact that these people using the bit of him urinating and defecating himself as a joke Is ableist as there are folks with disabilities that can't control it, and there is no shame in that.

Also if you're trying to say "Springtrap smells like literal shit". Consider people already know this and either ignore that ( which is valid ) or yk. Have their insert take Springtrap home and clean him up and fix him.

Or have Springtrap clean himself up ( i imagine he does by the time he become Scraptrap, as best as he can anyway ).

As for Curly, i am seeing a lot of Videos that are finally talking about it. Thank the gods, moon, whatever.

Mouthwashing is one of those things you really don't need to ship anyone with anyone ( if you must i highly suggest making an oc because thats awesome ).

On top of that though I'm still seeing ableist art of Curly and probably will for awhile 😮‍💨

#mouthwashing #Mouth washing #Fnaf #Captain curly #curly mouthwashing #Curly #William afton #William afton tfc #Burntrap #Spop hordak #ableism #Fandom ableism

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booksandabeer · 11 months ago

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Steve-Centric Stucky Fics: 5 Recs + 1 TBR

As promised, here is the rec list for Steve/Bucky fics with a focus on Steve-centric stories—all of them not EG-compliant, as requested. It's not quite as long as my usual rec lists for two reasons:

(1) I'm still sick and I can barely sit up straight, so please forgive the brevity of the list, and

(2) I deliberately wanted to include exclusively fics that were written in 2022 and 2023 to shine a spotlight on a few of the many wonderful writers and artists who are still creating absolutely fantastic works for the Stucky ship and who deserve to be read just as widely and passionately as older works in the fandom. Recency bias, but make it positive!

So without further ado, here are five Steve-centric Stucky recs and one more fic that I can't wait to get to:

1. say it soft and it's almost like praying by Somanywords | 41K, M

Author's summary: Natasha says, “Look, whatever the truth is about you, we have no way of really knowing the Winter Soldier's intentions. He’s not all there, he’s not who you remember. He’s a hot mess, Steve.”

“Why does everyone think that?” Steve says, and he’s nearly yelling, but not quite, because he doesn’t need to, not when they’re so close. “Why does everyone keep saying he’s a mess—have you seen me?"

Post-CA:TWS canon divergent. I literally finished this fic about 15 minutes ago, so I haven't even left a comment yet. I'm still processing, you could say. The author tagged this with "just another post catws fic (but by me)"—and yes, that's what you get. All the usual ingredients are here, but the joy of TWS canon divergence is of course in the endless possibilities of how these well-known ingredients are used, re-arranged, and re-imagined as something new, exciting, and often much more satisfying than in canon. This fic excels at all three and is an absolute joy from start to finish.

2. Daybreak by BonkyBornes, art by PottersPink | 9K, NR

Author's summary: They called it project Rebirth because the person was supposed to be reborn, like a phoenix from the ashes. Steve was supposed to be the phoenix. He was supposed to rise from the ashes of his old body, he was supposed to leave behind his deafness and his limp and the scoliosis that bent his entire body to the left. He was supposed to leave behind everything that held him back.

In the end, the only thing that left was the only thing that mattered.

Shrinkyclinks canon-divergent AU. What if Project Rebirth didn't go right...but it didn't go entirely wrong either? A story about ghosts but not a ghost story. Or maybe something else entirely? Steve fights his body and time and the memories that keep haunting him. Beautifully written, with gorgeous art by PottersPink that perfectly complements the story.

3. Exhale by seapigeon, art by dudewhereismypie | 15K, M

Author's summary: After the Chitauri invasion, Steve parts ways with SHIELD, unsure if he can trust an agency that tried to deceive him and built weapons from the Tesseract.

He finds himself alone in an unfamiliar future, penniless, not even legally alive. Fortunately, he knows how to survive. Steve Rogers is used to getting by on his own.

The thing is, he doesn't have to.

Shrunkyclunks. Post-Avengers canon divergent. A fic that asks the question: What if, after the battle of New York, Steve had told SHIELD a polite but firm 'No'? Follow him as he strikes out on his own, finds an apartment, a job, and friends, figures out life in the 21st century...and of course falls in love!

4. Preberseeschießen by Ginny_Potter | 6K, T

Author's summary: Bucky breathes out and shoots. The bullet hits water… and there it is, the zapping sound of paper tearing.

The light turns on and off three times. Third circle. Just a lick out of bullseye. The Howlies explode in cheers.

Or, the Howling Commandos play a shooting game with the Austrian Resistance and Steve has lots of unresolved feelings about himself, his new body, and his changing relationship with Bucky. In other words, comrades are comrades, angst looms, and Steve feels.

Wartime fic. Would you like to read some excellent gay angst full of yearning and unresolved tension, peppered with interesting and wonderfully specific historical details and Howlies camaraderie? Would you like to get your heart crushed a little? Yes? Here you go. And if this makes you feel too sad by the end of it and you crave a bit of a happier resolution, just jump straight into a fistfull of dollars (5K, E) by the same author, which is not intended as a companion piece or even set in the same universe, but it works just as if it were. (Look at me sneaking in extra recs.)

5. Not In The Answer But The Question by aimmyarrowshigh, art by PottersPink | 27K, T

Author's summary: It rankles that his drink was made before he even got a chance to order it. What if he wanted a change? What if he were adventurous and bold? What if he tried something new?

---

Or, Steve Rogers shakes up his gray daily routine in 2014 by going back home to Vinegar Hill. To his surprise, the Jewish deli he used to frequent with Arnie is still standing.

And Steve's whole life changes again.

Shrunkyclunks. Post-Avengers canon divergent. A lost and lonely Steve tries to figure out who he was, is and most importantly, wants to be in this new century he's found himself in that is both terrifying and full of possibilities. Told in vignettes (I did not count, but I believe all of them are exactly 100 word drabbles) that perfectly illustrate the fragmented mind and life of its protagonist and his experience of constantly shifting and adjusting between past and present. A story about identity, memory, self-acceptance, and finding the courage to love and let yourself be loved. And food. So much amazing food!

+ 1 TBR: Operation: Gros Michel by SquadOfCats | 358K, E

Author's summary: “It starts with bananas. Of course, it's not really about the bananas. Just like a camel isn't bothered by one single straw, just like a dam doesn't break because of one extra drop. Obviously, Steve's mental breakdown isn't about bananas.”

Steve is overwhelmed and hanging by a thread, doing his best to take care of Bucky while still deeply traumatized himself. He finally has a breakdown over the stupidest of things: bananas. So Bucky takes care of him.

In which Steve learns to surf, Bucky becomes a gardener, and they both begin to heal.

Post-CA:TWS canon divergent. No, I did not make a mistake, the word count for this story really does come in at an impressive (or intimidating, you decide) 358,225 words! Which is the only reason why I haven't read it yet. I do want to make time for this asap because the snippets I've read so far were very intriguing and everything I've heard about it from people who have finished it, sounds absolutely amazing. So, this is the wild card pick!

Happy reading! <3

#stucky #stucky fic rec #stucky rec list #steve x bucky #stucky fic recs #steve x bucky fic rec #stevebucky fic rec #stucky fic #stevebucky #steve rogers fic rec #my recs

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mint-yooxgi · 1 year ago

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Control - Yandere!Incubus!Jisung

Yandere AU & Incubus AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Internal Monologue

Pairing: Jisung X Implied Chubby!Fem!Reader

Words: 1,658

Warnings: Violent thoughts at one point and implied murder, very smutty themes (he's essentially in the middle of the act with you while this is going on hehe). Mentions of potential kidnapping, but nothing comes of it. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: I'M BACK BABEEEYYYYYYYY!!!! Lmaoo it's been forever since I've posted anything, or at least, it feels that way, so I hope this can satiate you all for a bit. Things have been a bit slow, but I'm feeling good about this one, better than I have been with my writing for a while. Anyways, Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

The Tenth of The Feral Drabbles

You don’t know how long I’ve been dreaming about this… to complete ravage you and claim you as my own.

A blissful sigh escapes my lips as I look down upon the wondrous sight that is you, naked and spread out beneath me. Months of meticulous planning have finally all come to a head as I run my hands up your sides, caressing your body like I’ve always dreamed.

Finally, you are mine, just as I’ve always been yours.

Long since have I been watching you, keeping an eye out for anything and everything that might spark an interest for me in you. You see, my sort of clientele deserve a certain… care when I decide to take them on. The seduction is all part of the thrill of the game.

But you? Oh, you?

You are most certainly not a game. No… You are everything I’ve ever desired, and so much more…

All of the others were easy to figure out, some flowers here, some compliments there, and poof, I had them right where I wanted them. Yet, you made me work for it. You made me earn it, and by the time I did, I could never hope to accept anybody else but you.

You are now my sole desire in this godforsaken universe. The only one I will ever want. The only one I will ever need.

You see, Darlin’, you have this smile… A smile that just lights up the entire room whenever its radiance graces your features. It’s brilliant, and the first time I ever saw it, I was captivated. The way your eyes crinkle during such an expression of joy set my heart racing. An odd, and rather foreign feeling, as I’ve never experienced anything quite like it before.

I had to have it for myself.

Sure, there’s been other times where my clients have smiled at me - smugly, flirtatiously, genuinely - but none of them were you. You have a certain charm that’s addicting, and I couldn’t help but wonder what that smile would look like gracing your features because of me.

I wanted to make you laugh. I wanted to make you happy. More than all of that, though, I wanted to know what that smile would look like pulling at your features as you gazed down upon me, my tongue buried in that tight, wet heat of yours. Perhaps, even what it would look like as I intertwined our fingers together, hearing you sigh in bliss, begging me for more as I made you come over, and over, and over again. For me, and me alone.

That smile would become a product of my love for you, in whatever ways it could. Soon, it would be only reserved for me, and not that fucking coworker of yours that seemed overtly friendly with you. They really enjoyed cracking jokes, didn’t they? Not so funny when it’s their skull cracking instead…

But, I digress… what I had to do to ensure you fell into my arms after all this time is my own business. You don’t ever have to worry about a single thing.

You even seemed to have a soft spot for animals, so it became nothing for me to start walking the dogs under our care just as an excuse to see you. They love you, almost as much as I do, you know. They know you’re mine, and they’ll protect you, and care for you almost as fiercely as I will now. They know that no one is allowed to touch you but me. We have to protect such a delicate being, after all.

Gentle… you’re always so gentle…

But you have a dominant streak in you, don’t you, Darlin’? You enjoy taking control, especially earlier in the night when I had you in my lap.

Fuck- just thinking about those plush thighs around me as your hips shifted above my own has me twitching again in anticipation. I can’t get the feeling of your hands off of my skin, your fingertips having burnt trails of passion all over my shoulders as you attempted to ground yourself by holding onto me. I can still see the way your head tossed back in bliss, your movements stuttering as you came just from the friction alone.

You don’t need to be embarrassed. I came, too. I always come, even just to the mere thought of you.

That’s just the effect you have on me.

Oh, but I let you have your fun. I let you take control, and was it ever a sight to behold. To be able to indulge with you in these desires of yours has filled me with no greater joy. Seeing you take control like that…

I was made for you, Darlin’, and you were made for me. Never shall we be parted again. I won’t allow it. You are mine, and I am yours. Now, until forever.

The shock on your face after I told you that it was now ‘my turn’, well… it still has such a warmth building in my chest. It made me think, though, that perhaps you’re not used to receiving the love you deserve. I’ll deal with those other fools that dared make you believe you weren’t worth the same love and care you show them later. Right now, I want to focus on you.

Oh, the way my body comes alive at the feeling of your hands all over me. Every stuttered breath, every whimpered moan, is yours. Your name is made to fall from my lips, as mine is made to be graced by yours. You should know, all of my reactions are of the purest variety I can offer, for you and you alone.

I just hope you will do the same, and from the way your eyelids continue to flutter in bliss, I can tell this will be the case.

That’s it, Darlin’, feel my hands caressing every part of you. Let your body come alight beneath my touch, squirming and begging for more.

I will give it to you. I will always give it to you. Right now, though, I want to take my time.

To think, someone who’s always prided himself on his professionalism could be reduced to mere tatters at the very thought of you. For too long I have been fantasizing about what I would do to you if given the chance - an occupational hazard, if I do say so myself - but never have I ever felt anything this intense.

My life is yours, Darlin’. You own my very soul. Every breath, every thought, every desire I have is yours. Yours to fulfill, yours to own, yours to keep. It always and forever will be.

Yes, feel my lips against your skin, feel the way my tongue darts out to taste your pulse. This racing heart, that hitch in your breath, are all because of me.

I’ve only just begun…

Let my fingers trace over ever dip, let my hands map out every curve. I want to find all the spots on your body that have you gasping, and then I want to make you tremble from the slightest of my touches. Let me please you in all of the ways I know how, in all of the ways that I am known for.

Darlin’, you know my horns are sensitive…

Oh, but you did that on purpose, didn’t you? Your playful giggle says it all. You still want to be in control…

Just relax, Darlin’. Let me take care of you.

The hitch in your breath as you see my fangs only makes my cock ache for you that much more. And that full body shudder at my nails grazing your sides? Perfection.

My breath hitches. You- you’re begging for me? You want me?

Who am I to deny the most beautiful divinity I have ever had the pleasure to lay my eyes upon.

Don’t be shy now, Darlin’. You asked for it.

Just look at the way my fingers sink into those luscious thighs of yours. Fuck- you really are made for me… and this gorgeous, weeping cunt… is this all for me?

All because of me? Darlin’, you shouldn’t have! You know how insatiable you make me.

I swear, you were created just to tempt me. To make me succumb to the deepest of desires so I could please you to the fullest extent of my own abilities. Every lick, every suck, is for you, and I can never get enough of this sweet nectar that flows from your very core, intoxicating me with just a single taste.

Give it to me.

I want your everything.

You like when I growl against this pretty pussy, don’t you, Darlin’? Well, what if I pull you closer and do it again? Oh, that made you clench around my tongue, didn’t it?

Do it again…

Again…

More…

More! Give me more!

Feed this beast inside of me who yearns for you!

Yes! Give your all to me!

Let me see you fall apart on my tongue…

That’s it, Darlin’, feel the way I suckle this sensitive little clit between my lips. Moan for me as I let my tongue delve through those soft, wet folds of yours. Make me drunk on you, and then make it so I can never dream of wanting another. Only you.

I’ll let you in on a little secret… you already do.

Such a luscious body, Darlin’, and all mine to hold. All mine to touch, to please, to sink my fangs into and mark you as mine over, and over, and over again.

That right, grab onto my horns, pull me in closer as your thighs shake around my head. Don’t fucking stop until you’ve taken everything you’ve wanted from me, and then some.

My body was made to please you.

That is truly my greatest desire.

After all, Darlin’, you’re the one that’s still in control.

#cultofdionysusnet #yandere jisung #yandere han #yandere skz #yandere stray kids #yandere kpop #jisung scenario #han scenario #han smut #jisung smut #skz scenario #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids scenario #chubby reader #incubus au #kpop au #kpop scenario #kpop smut

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project-sonadow · 10 months ago

Note

hello—i have a question to ask, and i figured it’d be better to do it here than to bother an individual artist about this. (sorry in advance for bringing the mood down w/ a serious question, btw.)

so, i’ve seen posts going around lately where people are like “hey, stop being explicit about sonadow, it’s weird”. and i agree that making explicit comments on sfw work is not cool. forcing the creator to see stuff that might make them uncomfortable is rude. /gen

however, if the characters are explicitly stated to be aged up (like, have lived several years beyond the games) or are in an au where they’re older, is that still bad? /genq because i always thought that the authors/artists were specifically going out of their way to say “we’re actively not wanting to make these pieces about children, we just want to see these two personalities and how they would behave in nsfw situations”.

sorry again. i’m just very confused (and a bit scared by the hostility /nm) and was hoping that i could maybe get some clarification.

(btw, thanks to all the artists on this blog for making such cute art. it’s all really nice stuff.)

Hi there. This isn't the type of thing we would typically address here, but your approach tells me that you're looking to learn and understand, so I'll give you my thoughts.

First of all, to address hostility - it's intimidating and intense, because this is the kind of thing that fires people up. We're not exempt from this, because we do not want to see explicit content about minors, and we will be direct about this fact. And for some reason, some people get very offended when you tell them this.

I'm going to respond to you in good faith, and I don't assume any bad intentions on your part.

On aging characters up. I will be specifically talking about the sonic franchise as my example here, but this applies to any series where the focus characters are children.

Sonic and Shadow are kids. They are teenagers. Age discourse is NOT relevant. They are depicted as teenagers, they act like teenagers, and they are meant to be viewed as teenagers. And so this begs the question: why is there a need to see them in adult situations? Why is there a drive to depict minors in explicit situations?

Even if a creator is theoretically not making a piece about minors, when they choose to age up minor characters, that tells me that they thought about those minors in explicit situations, or that they wanted to see those minors in those situations, but needed a way to justify it.

This is why I fundamentally disagree with aging characters up to put them in adult situations. The core characters are children. Wanting to see a child character in explicit situations so badly that there is a need to justify it by aging them up or making an au or whatever is strange and disturbing, and I personally would not want to associate with someone who does that kind of thing.

Reflect on the issue yourself. All I can do is explain my reasoning, and say that I will choose not to associate with people who make and/or consume content of minor characters in explicit situations.

I appreciate that you want to learn. I am answering this question specifically because of the way you asked it, and that I see this as a way to tell you why we think certain things, and why we vehemently disagree with certain types of content. To others reading this, this post is NOT an invitation to discourse with us. I will not be arguing about ages or logistics or whatever. Do not try to convince me that nsfw of minor characters is okay, you'll get blocked immediately.

#project talks #ask

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l223m0nade · 23 days ago

Text

Bees (a stucky au snzfic)

ok ok

so I saw this random thing on a tumblr post:

and it got its Stucky-idea hooks so deep in my brain. It just did. And the thing is my deepest inspo is honestly in the land of snz. (This fic kind of ends abruptly sorry but i want to do more and it'll probably end up on Ao3 w like a M or E rating 😳🫣 when and if that happens i'll link to it)

Stucky au, no powers, age gap, what I'm picturing in my head goes less with the words "silver fox Steve" and more with the words "dorky Dilf Steve" like 2012 Cap fashion with current Chris Evans face? in..a good way? and longhair early-20s burnout Bucky. I have some backstory headcanons that are just hinted at here, hopefully it's tantalizing rather than confusing.

anyway have 11.5k words of this and encourage me to write more bc i have fallen in love with these particular boyz. Some light existential angst but mainly idiots pining aka the sweetest sauce

~Fic~

Sam isn’t sure how much longer he can allow this to go on. His barback and the new semi-regular square dude are once again being all awkwardly flirty while pretending they’re not, like two sad lonely white...ducks, who never learned a mating dance and have zero game.

At least Square Dude has an excuse: he’s the most obvious newly-divorced newly-out family-type guy Sam’s ever seen. He’s clean-cut, with a ridiculously handsome square jaw, wearing well-made but unstylish button-down shirts and pants that make him look like he belongs in a Norman Rockwell painting. He started coming in about two months ago, quiet, friendly when ordering his one or two beers of the evening, and firmly shy when it comes to the inevitable overtures sent his way. It doesn’t take a genius to see that this is him dipping a first toe into the pool: coming to a relatively quiet gay bar, just to sit and watch men talk to each other and let the whole notion sink in.

By now most guys would’ve found someone to spread their wings with or gone elsewhere to find em, but Square Dude, whose name is Steve, seems content to talk to the guy who pours his beer about whatever DIY project Bucky is pulling questions out of his ass about.

The crush is painfully obvious, and suburban closeted Steve can’t be blamed for having no deal-sealing abilities, but Bucky has no such excuse. Sam has watched him pull stiff-backed business bros in five minutes flat when the mood struck him, with his big blue puppy eyes and his dark wicked smirk and long lean slouch. But with Steve all he appears capable of doing is asking him questions about crown molding as though those words mean anything to him while gazing at him like he’s beaming the words You could fix me directly into Steve’s skull. Steve, for his part, just doesn’t seem to be able to look anywhere other than Bucky.

As usual, anyone that tries to strike anything beyond a friendly conversation is kindly but firmly rebuffed. “He’s not ready for that yet,” Bucky had insisted with unnecessary defensiveness when Sam implied it was time for the new guy to move from spectating to participating in the relatively mellow flirting and hookup scene the bar played host to most evenings. “People go at their own pace.”

“The only pace he’s going at is towards you,” Sam smirked. Bucky glowered at his implication. “You gotta make it weird. He comes here to, like, practice. I’m part of that, in a chill, friendly way.” He shrugged and looked at the glass he was drying. “When he is ready, it’s not gonna be for me, it’s gonna be for someone actually in his league, like a...hot college professor, or something.” Sam had rolled his eyes and resolved to stop trying to help Bucky Barnes flail around in his mess of a love life anymore, for the hundredth or so time.

Tonight is busy enough that Sam can mostly be distracted from this bad sitcom, and not so busy that he has to yell at Barnes for being distracted. Still, there are a couple empties on tables in the Steve-less side of the bar, and after finishing the drinks for the people in front of him he turns, catching Bucky’s voice, in a tone of delight he uses when speaking with only one person, saying “Wait. Seriously? Bees?”

“Yeah!” Steve responds, equally puppyish. He’s tall and broad, sandy hair and beard just beginning to show a hint of salt-and-pepper. He looks like anyone’s fantasy fireman or lumberjack, at least in the context of a place like this. He also exudes genuine sweetness and vulnerability despite his intimidating muscled height.

Bucky Barnes, Sam’s barback and old friend, leans against the bar doing the helpless-goober-with-a-crush stare, a look on his face like Steve just announced he was a Nobel Prize winner. “No way. How do you keep bees? Just as, what, a casual hobby? That’s, like, a whole thing, you can’t be an expert in so many things!”

Bucky is all shaggy longish dark hair and stupid cheap graphic t-shirts, with a striking, animated face that is used mainly for sarcasm. He and Sam had been at the same high school a few blocks away, though Sam is older, and in the funny way of life they’ve wound up good friends. He’s working at Sam’s place because, in his words, he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing with his life. Bucky’s going through his own version of one of those fairly bleak lost periods of 20-something misery, but he’s smart and not a drunk and decent at what he does for Sam, and if he bangs a third of the customers he does it discreetly enough. Sam never knew dark-blond, broad-shouldered, bass-voice sad-eyed dudes pushing 40 were the kryptonite that made him unable to do anything including flirt, until Steve came in one day and Bucky sprayed himself with the keg he was tapping.

Steve chuckles— is this man blushing? “Oh no, I’m nowhere near an expert. But it’s pretty easy once they get established. Don’t need much from you. I’m not, uh, living at the place with the backyard where the hives are, right now….so….but they’ll be fine without me.”

Steve gets a little quiet and Bucky’s fangirl expression dims with distressed sympathy. It gets sad like this sometimes when talking to Steve. Recently divorced guys had this problem, where everything came back to the one topic. Steve’s not doing it pathologically, didn’t seem like, just genuinely realizing another change. Bucky looks stricken. He doesn’t always seem young, at newly 24, but sometimes it still shows.

Sam finally manages to catch his eye away from gazing at Steve to convey a quick head jerk of get-the-hell-over-there-and-do-the-job-I-pay-you-for, and Bucky peels himself away with an apologetic smile at Steve. Sam picks up the conversation with Steve as Bucky clears tables at top speed, hearing how he’s renting a place month-to-month not far away, not able to plan something more permanent just yet. He doesn’t say anything revealing, but it’s still easy to paint a picture of a small, empty apartment. Bucky’s not the only one with a soft spot for this guy, and Sam is warmed by the thought that his little bar offers him respite.

………………..

“That’s so sad,” moans Bucky a few days later. It’s just after opening on a weekday afternoon, and Bucky seemed quieter than usual so Sam is tantalizing him with what he learned talking to Steve the other day. “Did he say—you know he has kids?”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam answers. He’d been as offhand as a person could be about that sort of thing, but it wasn’t hard to see how he really felt. He was standing in the rubble of a sincere loving marriage to a woman with whom he had two 11-year old twins. Helped explain his rectitude when it came from moving from his spot at the bar, meeting someone other than the staff. Bucky’s eyes are pools of sympathetic anguish and Sam feels the need to say, “This kinda stuff happens to people, Buck,” earning an eye-roll for his patronizing efforts. “It’s good he’s coming here, learning about himself. I think you help a lot, for the record.”

Bucky starts and gives him a bewildered look. “What?”

This is aging him. Sam sighs, “He’s lonely. Maybe feels kinda lost right now.”

Bucky’s mouth gets a pained downward slant to it.

“He. Likes. You.”

At that, of course, Bucky gets uncomfortable, blushing and moving off to wipe tables somewhere away from Sam, rubbing his nose and clearing his throat like he’s been doing since he got there. He brightens when Steve comes in an hour later, and Sam rolls his eyes and leaves them to their game of mouse-and-mouse.

Steve is telling Bucky... how window insulation works. He thinks he asked, he hopes to god he did, at least. He’s been embarrassing himself for weeks, coming to this place almost every day. He’s kept it pretty well under wraps that although he liked the neighborhood simplicity, and talking to Sam, and got comfortable after the first few visits, the real reason he’s there more evenings than not is to see Bucky. With his bright grey-blue eyes and dark hair hanging past his chin, swinging against his cheekbones, with his smile and wicked sense of humor and his confounding ease in himself, the ease that gives Steve despair and hope for himself. With that mouth and that divot in his chin, and those last two thoughts are not allowed, because the need to put his thumb into that dot in his sculpted chin and kiss those ridiculously pink lips is urgent and unthinkable.

He doesn’t do that, he just sits and pines and chats awkwardly with him, and gets to know a few other regular guys and talks sports with Sam. He just likes talking to Bucky, it’s easy, easy like nothing has been in a long time, and he’s a creep, he’s a pathetic older guy using his experience to take advantage of a younger guy—

Only, he’s not actually experienced here, at all. And Bucky is so smart, he’s self-deprecating about it but it’s not like he and Steve aren’t generally on the same level beyond his inner glossary of home improvement terminology. He downplays the fact that he knows cars like an expert, insists the stuff Steve learned from keeping up an old house and the hobbies he picked up to stay sane is somehow far more impressive— Steve’s pretty sure he’s doing it on purpose, to make him feel less adrift and clueless. He has that way about him, of someone who looks after other people without realizing it.

Things were all dark there for a while, with the end of his marriage to Peggy. But he’s pretty sure he and Bucky are friends, and he feels bright when he sees him.

Tonight, though, Bucky seems just a little worn down. He’s wearing a waffle-knit shirt under his incomprehensible-thorny-calligraphy-t-shirt, as though he’s cold, and his eyes are tired. Steve waits for a reply to the last thing he said and looks to see Bucky with a dazed, spaced-out expression, before he shakes his head and rubs his nose, saying “Sorry, I thought I was gonna sneeze, what’d you say?”

Talking about the goddamn weather and window insulation was segueing into a real conversation, to Steve’s delight: “How my mom moved us out to Jersey so we could live somewhere better and I never forgave her.” Bucky gives a wide-eyed grimace of agreement and he can’t help the bright laugh that bursts out of him. “How about you, you grow up in the city?” He’d inadvertently spilled his guts about the divorce on like his third time in the bar, something that humiliated him to think of but Sam had simply said with an understanding face wasn’t too unusual, so Bucky knew the basics about Peggy and the twins, but Steve had felt clumsy asking Bucky about himself.

He rolled his eyes with his problematically attractive crooked grin and answered, “Aw man, I grew up practically around the block from this place. Went to high school at the big catholic cinderblock in the neighborhood. I was at school on the west coast for a couple years, but…” His eyes cast downward. “now I’m back.”

Steve remembers how bad it felt at that age, to not have accomplished enough fast enough. Saying that will make him sound like an old grey dad and even if that’s what he is he can still hold out a little hope of being something different here, so he just says, “Brooklyn’s a good hometown to come back to.”

That makes Bucky smile at him and look him in the eye, like he liked what Steve said, even like it made him feel better. Steve tamps his answering grin down to reasonable levels.

Bucky’s also been rubbing at his nose on and off this whole time, and he can see it give a little twitch right before he breathes out a “scuse-me” through hitching breaths, his eyes flickering closed. He pushes his nose firmly into his long-sleeved elbow. “hhh-hh-tdschuh!” He sneezes quietly and muffled. “Oh, snf, sorry,” he says, blinking and emerging from his elbow but not lowering it, the hazy ticklish look still on his face, breaths hitching. “Another—hhh—‘nother one?” He freezes, looking up at the overhead lights, nostrils flared, but after a second he deflates with a sigh. “Nope, nevermind. Snff.” Steve’s guts swoop. This crush is so unsustainable. He’s gonna fail to be cool and friendly and he’ll have to watch Bucky go all uncomfortable and pitying as he explains to Steve that he has six hot boyfriends who are not almost-forty almost-virgin losers who only know how to take up his time when he’s trying to work. According to his therapist these “harangues of negativity” are “unhelpful.” But Bucky looks tired and a little pale and like his nose is going to start turning pink and Steve is just trying to survive.

“Bless you,” Steve says softly in his gentle voice that’s so deep it takes Bucky by surprise and makes his stomach flutter every time he talks to him. He feels like he might be blushing.

“Thanks,” it comes out husky and he clears his throat hard, moving to the little sink to wash his hands.

“Allergies, or…?” Steve ventures, a little divot between his eyebrows of concern-more-like-pity.

“I dunno, something’s bothering my nose today,” he says lightly with a shrug. In truth Bucky has a good idea what’s making him sneeze. The fucking radiator that was supposed to heat his cheap shitty basement apartment had stopped working in the middle of the night, so he’d spent six hours until dawn shivering, and an itchy tickly feeling had been growing in the back of his nose and throat since around noon. It’s starting to evolve into a runny nose and an ever-present but elusive feeling of being about to sneeze, and he knows that means he’s coming down with a cold.

He sees some convenient glasses to clear and excuses himself with a smile so he can sniffle out of Steve’s earshot; he’s enough of a mess compared to Steve on his best day, he doesn’t need to show off his scraggly urchin runny nose aesthetic of tonight any more than he has to.

For the next hour, these light, tickly sneezes either sneak up on him or abandon him at the last minute, leaving his nose feeling like it’s going to start getting stuffy.

Steve watches Bucky do his job, sniffling, rubbing his nose, and sneezing furtively into his sleeve or collar; tucking the strands of hair that have come loose from his short ponytail behind his ears, and feels so helplessly tender for him that it can’t be normal or healthy even by desperate crush standards.

Bucky’s coming down with a cold. He seems to want to brush it off, but Steve can hear a slight change in the resonance of his voice that gives it away even if the tired pink starting to border his eyes and nostrils doesn’t. The place is getting crowded and he’s busy; Steve feels for him, as well as pathetically jealous of his attention as he banters with him in passing once in a while.

He glances up as Bucky heads in his direction with a short stack of empty glasses and sees his steps slow; he pauses, blinks up at the overhead light, eyes hazy, and then, wavering, starts to turn his face into his shoulder, before pausing again and then sighing and sniffing as the sneeze evaporates. He looks up and sees Steve watching him like a creep and laughs, “Damn, lost her,” and then as he continues behind the bar, “You havin’ fun watching me look stupid?”

“It’s agony actually,” he responds, gets a laugh, and feels the now-somewhat-familiar internal squeal of this is flirting! I’m flirting with a guy and I think he can tell! It’s painfully pathetic, but he can’t help but track the fact that Bucky knows plenty of the folks that come to Sam’s, that he’ll give anyone his attention if they ask for it, smiling and joking, but the only person he really goes out of his way to talk to, initiates teasing with, is him, Steve. It’s still nothing more than polite obligatory chatting, he’s sure— when you work at a bar this kinda thing is natural. Bucky is young and charismatic and gorgeous. His love life would probably give Steve enough combined envy and jealousy to cause heart failure, which would be perfectly appropriate because he is an old square divorcee. It makes him warm and bubbly enough that he seems to be Bucky’s favorite customer to pass the time with.

A guy down the bar gets his beer from Sam and sidles closer. “This seat taken?” he asks with a good-humored cocked eyebrow. This is why Steve actually started coming to this place: to meet people, to meet guys, in a way that, well, went somewhere. To call his own decades-old bluff. Not to moon over staff half his age who woulda been out of his league even if he was still in his twenties. He turns to the guy—his age or a few years older, attractively lithe with muscle, a hard but handsome face, and smiles.

Bucky gets busy for a stretch— Sam’s place is actually full tonight thanks to the playoff game. He enjoys the feeling of being a genuinely necessary part of the bar’s operation, when some nights it’s hard to believe he’s more than Sam’s charity case. Nights like this remind him that he has a real job, he’s decent at it even with a bum left arm; whether he’s living out his dreams or not he’s an adult with a job, a place to live, and people he cares about. Plus it distracts him from feeling sorry for himself for coming down sick.

His satisfied feelings fade when he looks over to the Steve end of the bar and sees Brock Rumlow talking to him. He scowls. Fucking Rumlow. He only ever comes on nights with games these days, but Bucky would be perfectly happy if he never came in at all.

It’s fine. Steve’s fine. He is a grown-up, significantly more of one than Bucky. Of all the people who have no need of his misplaced ineffectual chivalry, Steve has got to be last in line.

Maybe he finds more stuff to do in the general area of that end of the bar, and maybe he’s listening for Rumlow to say something dickish, or maybe he’s just a masochist and he wants to know firsthand if they hit it off. Sam is trying to point his “Don’t-be-Stupid” face at him like a flashlight beam but he resolutely ignores it while he replaces a couple bottles that legitimately needed it, ok, just because they’re in a convenient place doesn’t make that untrue.

“Yeah, I’m glad I found this place,” he catches Steve’s cheerful voice. A wave of bar noise obscures their next words, and then he makes out Rumlow,

“—actual sports on the TV. ‘Course,” the smile is audible in his voice, “the clubby places are good for at least one reason, y’know?” He quiets down to say it but not enough. Steve wouldn’t particularly like that, Bucky guesses, and then grinds his teeth as his brain helpfully supplies him with the memories of how easily Brock had charmed him, months ago. It wasn’t any kind of nightmare, but it was still probably his least favorite hookup to date: he’d been so happily focused on Bucky at first, then rough and selfish in bed, capped off by an unnecessarily clear implication that he wouldn’t be calling. Bucky knew the score with casual sex, but it had still given him enough whiplash to sting; it crossed his mind a few days later that it had been like Rumlow wanted him to feel like a dumb kid.

Steve has sputtered something about “not sure he’s looking for anything like that” while Bucky fumed about the past. He has to grab beers for a couple guys, and bending to get in the lowboy fridge makes his nose run suddenly, and flush with an insistent tickle. He manages, just barely, to squash the sneeze completely into a silent mmp! into his shoulder, andmakes a getaway to the bathroom. He blows his nose, but it won’t stop tickling, so then he stands there like an idiot, holding paper towels like they’re a book he’s reading, staring up into the lights and waiting to coax the sneeze out.

He can feel it coming but it still takes forever. At least the bathroom is empty. He wrinkles his nose exaggeratedly and sniffs and his breath finally starts to catch.

“hehh...heh...heh—heh-Uhh....huhh. Fuck.” There’s no way it’s not happening though, his goddamn nose tickles so bad— “hhHAh—EHSsschhooo!” It’s a ridiculous cartoony sneeze but at least it’s satisfying. He blows his nose again, then sighs. He’s definitely sick. Gonna be great sleeping in a freezing apartment. Turning into kind of a shitty night, he thinks with sarcastic pep.

When he leaves the restroom he can’t help glancing over to where Steve sits, and sees he’s now frowning at whatever Rumlow’s saying, looking politely uncomfortable on the way to annoyed. As he drifts back into earshot he hears, “….fun, but, if you’re looking for more than, um, casual, I dunno, kind of a dead end.” Then his pulse jumps as Rumlow looks right at him and finishes, “not dating material, trust me. Either way,” he leans in, “I think you can do better.”

Bucky closes the distance but puts himself behind the bar so he doesn’t immediately clock the asshole. His fists are clenched. Can he throw him out? If he doesn’t get away from Steve and shut up Bucky’s gonna end up fired and charged with assault, probably, but he doesn’t know if he can throw someone out on the grounds of being a jerk that he hates. Thank God, Sam’s caught on that something is up.

Rumlow doesn’t seem to have won Steve over, in any case. He’s turned cold and hard in a way that makes him look unfamiliar, and he says quietly but very clearly, “I think you’ve got the wrong idea.” He sounds like a straight Army Captain contemptuously shattering an underling’s heart immediately post-office-suckjob or something; in the morass of anger and panic it still registers with Bucky’s dick to his utter bewilderment. It definitely triggers some core memory for Rumlow, who turns the color of old milk before flushing and standing. He takes in the sight of Bucky glowering behind Steve and barks an ugly laugh. “It’s like that, huh?” he asks, shaking his head in mock pity. “Good luck with that rescue mission.”

Bucky feels like he did when Hank Ackerman pantsed him in 8th grade. Everything’s too bright and clear. He wants to cover his face and run into the back, but he’s rooted to the spot by the thought that that’s just what the dumb baby slut Rumlow’s been making him out to be would do.

“That’s it man,” Sam comes up beside him, smile on his face as though he’s just casually joining their conversation. “You’re done. Get outta here.”

Rumlow scoffs, takes a step towards the door, then turns with the beginning of a macho intimidation-lean in Sam’s direction. He’s hammered, Bucky hadn’t realized, and he can usually tell with people. He’s...kind of fucking scary. Had he gotten rougher around the edges, or had he been like this when Bucky went home with him? Jesus Christ.

Sam just returns his stare, all semblance of friendliness gone from his face. “Get out.”

Rumlow glares another second, but then he goes. There’s a reason Sam’s successful running a bar in the middle of the still-managing-to-be-seedy part of Brooklyn, as well as his finely tuned sensibilities to the unmet needs of Brooklyn’s grownup queer folks. He has the air, recognizable to serious troublemakers, of someone who will absolutely meet and raise any escalation. There were, in fact, a taser and a gun behind the bar, but Sam had never had to use them.

Steve stands up sharply, like he’s—what, gonna follow? Bucky opens his mouth to protest, but then—“Steve.” Sam’s got the side bar entry folded up and he’s intercepting his angry stride. “Please don’t.” He goes on, too quiet for Bucky to make out. Steve deflates and sits back down, taking a long drink of beer and then frowning at his knees.

Bucky consciously lets go of his tension as he sees Rumlow’s silhouette, walking outside, disappear from the last window on the right. He feels shaky, the way any kind of confrontation leaves him, and embarrassed as hell. He avoids Steve’s eyes for all he’s worth, scrubbing a hand under his nose and sniffing sharply.

Steve was just a customer. Bucky was just one of many people that Steve made polite conversation with in the course of a day. Feeling like this was just a consequence of getting that confused. Because he’s an idiot. He has to sniffle again. He also feels about ten times sicker than he did a few minutes ago, and successfully blinking away the brief prickle in his eyes just turns it into the need to sneeze.

Steve tries to breathe smoothly and calm down. This frat-boy rage is ridiculous, he still wants to go punch the hell out of that fucking creep. He must be drunker than he realizes, although deep down he knows it has more to do with the inarticulate surge of protectiveness he’d felt for Bucky since the guy had gestured to him with a jerk of his head as he crossed the room.

He hears a shuddering gasp and sees Bucky duck down to crouch behind the bar. His concern flares way up, but then he hears the three muffled sneezes, all in a rush, “hhhMPtchsh—hmptsschoo—hptsshhuh,”. He straightens back up, sniffing hard, more wetly than he sounded earlier. He’s rubbing his nose and glaring at the door, not looking at Steve.

“Bucky,” he says, frowning, determined to get this across, “what that asshole said about you—”

“Steve, snff, it’s fine, just drop it, okay, I’m asking you,” he meets Steve’s eyes with a downcast expression, before it flickers as his breath catches, and he sneezes again, half-pinched down into the collar of his shirt, “ihh-dtsschuh!”

His nostrils keep quivering and he lets out a shaky sigh of frustration before ducking around the corner out of sight with his hands tented over his nose and sneezing, “hiih-hih-HIDtschoo!...hih-HIH-TISchoo! ..heehh...heh—HEH—” the last one deserts him and leaves him sniffling. They’re still pretty quiet, but a lot heavier and spraying than the first sneezes Steve heard earlier. Bucky blows his nose and washes his hands thoroughly, and when he’s back behind the bar his nose is decidedly pink.

“Buck,” Steve says, and Bucky’s lips thin in exasperation— it’s not like him, compared to the guy Steve’s talked to the last few weeks. Whatever, he can’t help but say, “you do sound like you’re coming down with something, you should—”

“Steve, I’m fine,” says Bucky, in a soft tone that brooks no argument. Still tense, he turns to Steve with a crooked smile and says, “Really,” and it’s warm, if strained, between them again, and it seems like that’ll just have to satisfy Steve, and he says as much to Bucky who blushes and bites his lip for some reason.

Sam rescues Bucky by asking him to do inventory in back, letting him be sneeze and be dramatically in his feels without anyone around, especially Steve. The bar is slow enough now that he just shamelessly hides for the rest of the night. He’s constantly sniffling and sneezing and needing to blow his nose with the roll of rough brown paper towels back there, and even without that he’s too keyed up and pissed and miserable for human company, so it’s for the best.

He casts furtive recon glances to the bar where Steve sits, first craning his neck trying to spy Bucky, then brooding into his beer glass which makes Bucky feel like an asshole, then perking up at least a little shooting the shit with Sam, hopefully talking shit about Brock Dickface Rumlow. Then the misery wells up enough to get him to actually focus on work to avoid feeling it, and then it’s a few hours later and they’re closing up and he goes home to his little icebox and tires not to think about anything.

The next day, Sam chooses evil.

Steve and JB Barnes are both at least somewhat complex men, and it is always a bad idea to meddle in the affairs of others. But screw it, he’s had Bucky moaning in his ear for months now, and he was gonna have to recheck all his angry counting from last night, and these guys really seemed dumb enough to let the tension of mutual attraction strain between them until it just broke, some misunderstanding threw them both on the defensive or whatever, and they missed the chance at any of the fun part of connecting with each other.

So.

It isn’t a big surprise when Bucky calls him around 2, apologizing and pausing to make some gross “ihHgjshuhh!” noise, saying he was probably too sick with this cold to come in. What is a surprise, for poor Bucky, is Sam’s implacable response: “Duuude, I’m so sorry, but there’s some kinda convention in town and the place is packed, I need you here so bad, no matter what. You can take the next two days off, I’ll pay you.” He hears Bucky swallow back the what the hell and resignedly say ok. He feels diabolical. But hopefully it will be worth it. Steve usually comes in early on Thursdays, and he’d looked all hangdog-worried about Bucky the night before.

He’s been there twenty minutes already, chatting distractedly with Sam and staring at the TV screens but really looking all over the room like Bucky might be hiding somewhere. Bucky slouches in, ten minutes late, takes in the mostly empty room and gives Sam a betrayed glare.

“You really ndeeded mbe, huh,” he mutters as he puts his backpack away.

“You don’t even sound that bad,” Sam rejoins cheerfully, and Bucky’s mouth drops open with incredulity.

He moves some boxes around in back without issue. Then he tries to start prep by the bar. In a fifteen-minute period he has two sneezing fits that require him retreating to the bathroom to blow his nose endlessly and wash his hands. Sam decides that’s plenty sufficient. He and his customers are gonna pay a price in germ exposure for this stupid ass cupid skit he’s putting on.

“Steve, you believe this guy?” Bucky’s been avoiding Steve’s concerned hopeful looks since he got here. “He insisted on coming to work.” Bucky chokes in outrage, then coughs for real, while Steve moves a few seats closer. Sam turns; Bucky couldn’t look more betrayed if there was a knife with Sam’s name on it in his guts. Lord deliver him from dramatic white boys. “Did you take the bus here, Buck?” There was no other way for the guy to get to work, but he just replies flatly,

“Yeah.”

“You oughtta go home and rest.”

“Le me give you a ride, Buck,” Steve jumps in with the Air-Bud eagerness Sam had expected. They confirm it and bustle Barnes into a Civic while he’s sneezing too much to protest. Sam washes his hands metaphorically of the situation, and also very literally and thoroughly.

Steve’s car is a little old, and cold, and dusty. Bucky shivers as he buckles his seatbelt. He feels silently nervous and thrilled to be in Steve’s Car!!, but at the moment it’s hard to be anything but….sneezy…

“hhh-hh-hhmmPtchuh! S-s-sor-ry-hiihHIptchsh!” Holding them back when he feels like this just makes his nose more irritated and thus even sneezier. He stubbornly jams his fist under his nose to quell the tickle. He has some napkins from work, so a nose-blow is possible, but it doesn’t feel possible, not so close to Steve, who has it a million times more together than Bucky even on days when he isn’t falling apart on a cellular level.

“Bless you,” Steve says quietly. He looks at him reflexively, to see a small, sweet, sympathetic smile. “Ready?” Bucky gives a little nod and the car pulls out into the slushy road.

His nose is running onto his finger, it’s a crisis. This is why it’s always a terrible idea to leave the house when you’re really sick. “Ugh, I gotta blow mby ndose, I’mb sorry, I’mb so gross right ndow,” talking also makes his nose angry. Fucking Sam and his supervillain plan to humiliate him. What had he done to deserve this? He fumbles for the napkins with his less-dextrous left hand, the one he should have stuck under his nose, goddamnit, he’s gonna sneeze again…

“Psh, don’t worry about it,” scoffs Steve like the big huge dad he is, then with a sympathetic glance he turns the radio on, to the classic rock station, because of course, Bucky almost laughs even while racing to get tissues on his face before this giant wet sneeze overcomes him. The music is loud and it does help him feel less embarrassed.

“heh—HEH-KSSSHOOoo!” he gets the wad of napkins in front of him just in time. Blowing his nose after that demolishes them, but he feels a little closer to a human being.

“Bless you!” Steve chuckles. “Man you got a good bug, jeez!”

Why are he and Sam both so cheerful. “Thanks, I’mb glad you’re impressed,” he croaks.

“You have cold stuff at home?” Huh? When Bucky doesn’t answer he continues, “Tissues, tea, soup, medicine, you know?”

“Oh, umb, sorry, I’m tired,” Steve makes a sympathetic sound. “I usually just use toilet paper. I took the last of my Dayquil before work. I dunno if it even helped, all it feels like it did is mbake me jittery and sdeezy.”

“Why don’t we stop by a drugstore.” He sounded decisive.

“Oh, you don’t have to bother with that, really Steve—” he pauses to sniffle desperately. Technically he can afford a couple things, and he probably needs them. “Or—you could drop me off and I’ll get myself home from the store, that would totally be a big help—”

“Is the heat even on in your place?” Steve interrupts, shrewd-eyed. At Bucky’s wide-eyed sputtering response he continues, “I knew it. I used to be a broke Brooklyn kid, once upon a time. Only reason to come into work, am I right? Can’t believe landlords are still getting away with this shit.”

Bucky considers denial, then slumps. “S’why I’mb so much...hhh...worse...hh-huh-hudschuh! Snff-snff. Worse today. They said it’ll be fixed by tomorrow so...we’ll see, ha. I got a space heater and an electric kettle though, I can get in my blankets and drink tea and I’m fine.”

Steve is quiet, no response, and Bucky worries irrationally that he pissed him off. A few minutes of classic rock later, he pulls into the small parking lot attached to the drugstore, turns the car off, and turns to him, looking a little uncomfortable.

“Bucky I—” he breaks off and laughs to himself. “I know you have to be polite to customers, I don’t want to—” he makes eye contact, looking pained and rueful. “I’d like to think we’re friends. But I don’t want to put you on the spot or anything,”

“We’re friends,” Bucky interrupts gently. Steve’s face brightens like a sunrise and Bucky’s chest does a nice warm thing.

“Yeah? That’s...I’m real happy to hear it.” Steve says, sheepish but grinning. Then his eyes get the determined look that Bucky is starting to think means trouble. “Well the reason I asked is, as a friend, I really hate the idea of you trying to ride this out in an icebox apartment. I have heat. And a couch!” He hastens to add at whatever wide-eyed look Bucky’s giving him. “It’s just, I know it’s no fun being sick by yourself, and, well, honestly I wish I’d socked that asshole at the bar last night, and I really wish I’d clocked him as a jerk faster, and I’d feel a lot better if I could do something nice for you, and you really seem like you could do with some rest and medicine. Will you let me grab some stuff here and spend the night at my place—where there’s heat— and let me fuss over you?”

“Steve, that’s—that’s so nice, but I really can’t imb—snff—impose on you, and I gotta be so contagious right now…”

“I don’t care about that,” Steve says easily. “And I know you’re not gonna die on your own, but,” and, whoa, he’s deploying some kind of dignified mature version of puppy-dog eyes, it’s so sincere, and also so certain, that it starts to seem like the only sensible course of action is to let his gorgeous crush take him to his apartment while he’s the polar opposite of sexy, an unspeakable snot factory, and also possibly starting to run a fever.

….His apartment is gonna be so goddamn cold.

And lonely, incidentally.

And Steve is so nice. He’s literally, actually here, he seems to mean it that he wants to take care of Bucky’s sick bedraggled ass as some kind of friend-favor. There’s no way this is a come-on with him in this state, even if he can still muster enough energy to wish it was. No way Steve’s ever gonna want to fuck him after watching him snuffle through 200 tissues and mouth-breathe all evening, but he was nuts to think he ever would anyhow. He’s just that nice, and Bucky is that pathetic, and that might not feel great, but he wants to be Steve’s friend, he really does, and even through his own shyness he can see that the guy is pretty lonely.

“You, umb. You really don’t have to.” He says, watching Steve, who waits with obvious hopefulness. “But. Uh.” Steve raises his eyebrows and gives him a little smile, and Bucky finds himself returning it helplessly. “If you really don’t mbind. It could, potentially, be really ndice to take you up on that. You really don’t have to though!”

“I want to, though.” Jesus, he’s so sincere. Bucky feels some weird kind of protective way about the earnest honesty in his eyes.

“Well, then, okay. Thangk you, I really appreciate it.” He laughs, finally feeling how miserable it would have been to go back home and try to sleep in a cold blanket pile on his mattress on the floor. “Mby place sucks right now.”

“Alright then,” Steve beams. “Let’s get you a couple things and then get you cozy.”

Bucky’s nose is not okay with him using his face to talk instead of constantly blow it. It’s gotten completely blocked, and it’s tingling unpleasantly, and running so bad again he has to smush his knuckles under his nostrils. The tickle crests and his breath catches before he can do anything about it, but he clenches his jaw and forces it into a stifle. “hhh-huh-MMP!!” The problem with doing that is it just makes the tickle— “hh-mMP!” worse. “Ugh, sorry.” His hand is a dam against his nose at this point.

“Bless you!” They both step out of the car, but Steve hurries over to his side with a crinkle in his brow. “Why don’t you just stay here and I’ll grab a few things. Anything in particular, or just tissues and NyQuil?”

“Dyquil is just schndapps,” Bucky grumbles, then his brain catches up a little and he says “tissues,” fervently, and then it catches all the way up and he says “wait, ndo way are you buyig!”

Steve cocks an eyebrow like a handsome jerk. “You really wanna go in there?” With your current nose situation? He’s kind enough to not say.

He casts about for a moment—“Grab me a little pack and then I’ll go in!”

Steve gives him a skeptical look and says “Sure,” in a way that makes him think his orders won’t be followed, but he’s too busy squishing his nose more firmly and silently begging it not to make him sneeze again to keep arguing, or to protest when Steve opens the door for him and puts his car keys in his hand before dashing into the store with a promise to be quick.

He’s back not even ten minutes later, by which time holding his nose plugged and not letting his sneezes out has put Bucky in a state of perma-misery, stifling relentless sneezes every few seconds, unable to keep his eyes fully open. Steve tosses a box of tissues onto his lap before he gets all the way into the car because he is a saint.

“Guh,” Bucky says gratefully, pulls out a wad of about ten, and lets the miserable sneeze that had been building out into the nest of forgiving softness. “HehgSHOOmpff!!” And then blows his nose forever. Finally he feels like he can speak and have a face again; the little drugstore bag is now home to a dozen nasty used-tissue balls. “Well,” he says as he puts the last one in there, “wish I hadn’t had a witness for that.”

Steve just chuckles. “You’re fine,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing rumble. “I grabbed you a toothbrush, and I’ve got some stuff that can fit you for pjs.”

Bucky feels like he sneezed out the last of his strength. “You’re way too nice.” He sniffles and slumps against the window, looking at the familiar blur of orange streetlight. “I should be more worried you’re a serial killer.” Steve chuckles again, and he likes that, so he goes on, “Probly got a nice Jeffrey Dahmer setup at your place. Sorry if I don’t make a good steak.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Steve replies, sounding indignant. Then laughs for real, shaking his head, “I’m not gonna chop you up and eat you, I swear.”

“It’s fine. Just mbake mbe into soup,” sighs Bucky. That would be warm. He’ll just be a big hot pot of Bucky, and Steve will stir him and season him so carefully with his big strong hands. This is a weird train of thought. He might have a fever. But he can still hear Steve chuckling.

Steve pulls into his parking spot and the car shudders to stillness as he takes his key out of the ignition. Next to him, Bucky is asleep with his head mushed against the window. He’d conked out for the last five or so minutes of the drive. “Hey, Buck, we just got to my place,” he says softly, trying not to sound too bedroom-y. His eyes flutter open, the blue of them standing out, and Steve takes a steadying breath because Bucky is so good-looking it catches him off guard and overwhelms him sometimes.

His eyes are glassy-bright and there’s a flush high on his cheekbones, and as he shifts upright in his seat Steve reaches over and touches his forehead without thinking about it. It’s noticeably hot, but not burning. The twins’ childhood bouts with the flu gave him a sense of bad-fever heat. “Think you got a temperature,” he murmurs sympathetically. Bucky just blinks up at him, a little wide-eyed, and only then does he realize his big meaty hand is practically covering half his face. He feels himself flush to match Bucky, and for a second they just look at each other.

Until Bucky sniffs a miserable liquid sniffle and they both almost jump. “Sorry,” Steve mutters awkwardly, and Bucky’s saying the same thing at the same time. They both move to get out, “Just one flight of stairs up.”

“huh—tschumpf!” is Bucky’s answer, his nose buried in a new handful of tissues. “huhh, hUH—huh.” The second sneeze fizzles, leaving him blinking and frowning and wrinkling his nose snifflishly against the ticklish haze as he shuts the door. “Fuck. Sorry, scuse mbe.”

“Bless you.” It’s probably not normal to find someone so sick so adorable.

Steve leads him up and along the hall and then he’s unlocking the door, feeling giddy that he’s letting Bucky into his apartment, and then guilty for being excited, when the poor guy is just hesitantly accepting a much-needed favor. Bucky trails in behind him and then stands still while Steve sets the bag from the drugstore and started to turn to him, saying, “It’s not much, but—”

“ASHHOO!” Bucky’s sneeze interrupts and snaps him forward into his tissues, and then he just stays folded over for a second like it sapped the last of his energy. Then he straightens, rubbing his nose into the tissues and sighing. “Jesus, sorry,”

“Bless you! You don’t have to be sorry, you’ve just got a cold.” Steve has to hold himself still to keep from rubbing his back.

“You’re...hh-huh….? Snfff, ugh. Totally gonna catch this, I owe you way mbore apologies.”

“I won’t hold it against you,” he chuckles, toeing his shoes off. Bucky follows suit and he continues, “I stopped caring after raising toddlers, they’re little germ factories, you catch everything.” Why’d you bring up your old-dad status, Steve? “I’ll grab you some things to sleep in.”

An hour and one confrontation about Steve giving up his bed later, Bucky is ensconced on his couch like the king of cold-medicine commercials, surrounded by blankets and pillows and tissues and steaming cups and bowls. He feels a little more human, which is nice, but lets him access how incandescently awkward he feels at being rescued from his idiotic life like a snotty Cinderella. Steve has been flitting back and forth between the couch and kitchen, fussing over him to a truly excessive degree while exuding satisfaction and cheer, like some kind of calendar-model Santa with a caretaking kink. He was practically rubbing his hands together at the prospect of getting Bucky blankets and tea on his couch. Now he’s giving a rundown of his TV system standing next to the couch and it feels the tiniest bit manic and Bucky can feel himself getting a little too quiet but he can’t help it. After a minute Steve notices, and sets the remote down.

“I should stop babbling at you and leave you in peace,” he says with a bashful chuckle, turning to leave the room.

“No, I— you don’t—” Bucky doesn’t really have a response beyond ‘please chill out and hang out with me and let me picture cuddling with you,’ which will not be said aloud.

“You really don’t hafta feel like you need to entertain me, Bucky.”

“It’s not, I don’t,” he sighs and then sniffles. He doesn’t want to sit here and stare at the wall and stress about this, alone in this room in Steve’s goddamn apartment. He maybe should have thought about just how much he’d fallen for Steve before taking him up on this offer, because the concern and sweetness and fussing are starting to ratchet up his anxiety, because what if there was a chance it meant—

“Is anything the matter?” Steve crouches smoothly to be on his level and torment him with his eyes’ blueness. When all Bucky can do for a moment is flounder he looks more concerned, and a little downcast. “I really don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. If anything’s bothering you, you can just tell me.”

What the hell is an ordinary sinner supposed to do in the face of this much sincerity? Act like he thinks he’s a damn grownup, Bucky guesses, and girds his nervous loser loins.

“Why’re you—” he starts, frowning, then cuts himself off and tries again with a small, apologetic smile.

“It’s just...this is such an imposition, and you seem...kinda weirdly happy about it? I just don’t get why.”

One side of Steve’s mouth quirks up, making him look dry and self-deprecating and unfairly handsome. “You’re worried I’m gonna start talkin about Scientology, or put you in my basement dungeon?”

Bucky shrugs. “Kinda.” Just ‘cause he went home with strangers didn’t mean he had no sense.

Steve seems to cast about for an explanation, and he also starts to turn pink. “It’s—you’re just so—” and then he sighs and sits on the end of the couch, next to his blanketed feet, addressing his words to the wall in a rush. “Honestly, Bucky? I have a huge crush on you, and,” he laughs in embarrassment, decidedly blushing now, “I’m just real happy to have a chance to take care of you in whatever little way.” Now he does turn to look at him, pained. “I’m sorry, that must be so uncomfortable to hear. I promise you’re not my hostage! Please don’t make a break for it, it’s cold out and you’re so sick. I swear I’m not Cathy Bates in Misery.”

“Y—hihdsschuh!” The sneeze catches him by surprise, but he has wadded-up tissues in his hand already anyhow. He has to blow his nose, and he does it thoroughly to buy time. Steve stares stoically at the ceiling as though waiting for sentencing. Is this seriously Steve telling Bucky...he likes him?

“You…” he stops, sniffs. He needs a plan. He doesn’t have one. His mouth is gonna keep moving anyway, “You said, ‘you’re just so—‘, what were you gonna say?”

Steve looks confused for a second, and then just helpless. “Bucky, you’re just so sweet. I’m happy for a chance to do something for you because I owe you, you get that, right?”

“Owe me?” Bucky asks, nonplussed. Steve laughs with what seems like disbelief at his confusion.

“Yes, Buck! For the last few months! For taking pity on me that first night I came into Sam’s. You asked me a question about antifreeze.”

“Yeah,” Bucky murmurs. His world is rearranging itself. Steve remembered that?

“I feel—real self-conscious, I guess, coming into the “scene,” he gives it air-quotes and Bucky’s heart swells a little more, “by the route I have. Y’know, married dad who woke up one day and realized the stuff he repressed at sixteen might be the real him. Sam’s was the third place I tried to go into. I just felt so ridiculous, I still do— 39-year-old brand-new gay dude, it’s idiotic. I was practically gonna have a panic attack, I was definitely gonna leave and not try again and just...stop trying in general, maybe, to figure this new scary shit out. Except you were there, this—this smokin-hot guy, and you’re acting like you actually want to talk to me, and… so I stayed. And came back.” He looks Bucky in the eyes and it makes Bucky’s stomach clench. “I feel like you’ve been taking care of me this whole time, helping me ease into things, helping me not to feel bad about being completely uncool, asking me about stuff I actually know about instead of laughing at me because I’ve never heard of ‘poppers’,”

At that, Bucky has to give in to the giggle bubbling out of him, which inevitably leads to a short coughing fit. His first instinct is to keep laughing, rake Steve over the coals, but Steve is looking at him with a careful sort of expression, and it occurs to Bucky that just because he’s older and seems like he has it all together and has great posture doesn’t mean he’s immune to feeling vulnerable. And he looks like he’s feeling really fucking vulnerable right now. Acting like Bucky is worthy of this adorable schoolboy crush is absurd, but it’s not like it was so many eons ago that little baby Bucky Barnes was having his First Gay Bar experience, and he’d been scared as shit.

He already feels like he missed the boat on his life. Steve is starting over at 39. He’s so fucking brave. Bucky...somehow, unthinkably, Bucky is in a position where he could really hurt this guy.

“I’mb, umb. Snfff. Thing is, I’m a little surprised…” And Steve must think that’s the prelude to rejection because he pulls this sad little smile onto his face that’s the worst thing Bucky’s ever seen, and he has to make it go away, “It’s just, to hear you tell it I took pity on you and I’ve been talking to you to, like, guide you along and coach you because I’m some saint!” He smiles, starting to feel amused. “Steve— I just wanted some reason to talk to you, dude.”

Steve blinks at him. “What?”

He has to laugh, putting his forehead in his hand. “Sorry. I, just, I have not been operating under the assumption that I had a chance with you? And now it sounds like you’re telling me I do? While I sit on your couch filling your trash can with my disgusting tissue mountain?”

All he gets from the man is “...Huh?”

“You said ‘crush’,” he insists, and he’s not laughing, his heart is pounding actually. “What did you mean by that?” He’s gonna awkwardly say that he wants to fuck, and once that box is checked in his Gay Awakening, he’ll move on to actually date people actually in his league, and that’s maybe not gonna feel great, but, well…

Steve looks up from staring at his hands, makes eye contact, and he looks a little confused and a lot like he’s facing a firing squad. “I meant, I mean that…” he blows a breath out. “Jesus I have no idea what I’m doing. I mean that I’ve been trying to work up the courage to ask you out on a date, since pretty much the first night I met you.”

Bucky’s head does a record scratch and Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes, “But I guess instead I kidnapped you when you were sick and blurted this out to you while you were trapped on my couch waiting to be left alone to sleep. I was never smooth but I swear I’ve done better than this.”

A giddy feeling is rising up in Bucky’s chest, making him forget completely about how tired and crappy he feels. “Well, I am smooth,” he says, “I’ve got game. At least, I did, until you showed up and turned me into a giggling bimbo. What the hell, Steve.”

“This is starting to seem like a romantic conversation but I can’t tell,” murmurs Steve with his face still uncertain but a little twinkle in his eye.

Bucky’s nose is gonna ruin this, he’s surprised it gave him that long a grace period. “Yeah, snfff, real romantic, I’mb gonna—hih—fuckin’ sndeeze—heh-heTShoo! Againd.”

Another sneeze teases out, and then he has to blow his nose for about ten years. “Bless you,” says Steve all quiet and bedroomy in his deep voice, and he’s definitely smiling, sparkle-eyes, leaning towards him the tiniest bit, but still looking like Bucky’s leaving him hanging a little, unsure, and he can’t help the wave of doubt he feels.

“Steve, you—” he stares at the blanket on his lap. “I’m a mess. You’ve accomplished shit, you have a real goddamn job, I—I’m just, ok, we’re both adults, but I feel like a screw-up kid compared to you.” He takes a deep breath and says what he doesn’t want to, “I’d be...pretty damn flattered if you wanted to hook up. I kinda can’t imagine you actually want to date me.”

He dares to look up and Steve looks more serious. He doesn’t say, “no shit.” He says, “I won’t argue if you say you don’t want anything, but I sure don’t agree with how you describe yourself. I don’t want to hook up—at least, not just that— I want to date you, get to know each other better, because I like you. I trust my judgement, when I think someone’s a good person.”

He says it so simply, and Bucky finds himself believing it despite himself, and a warm happy fire is kindling under his ribs. “Well, shit,” he murmurs, “it’s starting to seem like you’re asking me out.”

“It’s...starting to seem like you might be saying yes? If I am?” Steve looks agonized and Bucky’s doubts are no match for the giddiness fizzing up inside him, and he lets it show on his face with a grin, and whatever that looks like makes Steve kinda gulp and scootch up closer to him. Bucky makes a show of giving a slow, considering nod. Yes.

Steve has this soft, nervous little smile on his face, but his eyes hold something weighty, almost burning, as he moves even closer, and it’s just, it’s really, wow, Bucky has maybe never been taken seriously in quite this way by anyone before, it makes his knees feel watery and kindles something in his core. “I know you’re sick,” he rumbles, “but I feel like I gotta kiss you,” and how is it that the softer he speaks the deeper his voice sounds? He brushes his curled fingers over Bucky’s cheek because that’s how close they are now and this isn’t really Bucky’s life, is it? “What if I was to kiss you, right now?”

It’s hard to tell with the sexiness melting his brain but he realizes Steve is actually asking, because he’s a gentleman— a gentleman Bucky wants to be taken apart and turned inside out by. “Then you would be a guaranteed victim of my plague,” he breathes. “But I wouldn’t stop you, I’m not that selfless.”

“Sounds like a dare,” Steve murmurs, and tilts his head and presses their lips together.

It’s a short simple kiss but they each give a quiet gasp at the contact, and then stay there a moment. Steve’s beard isn’t huge but he feels it, like a firm underline to the shockingly warm plush pressure of his lips. He thankfully tragically remembers that congested people can’t make out and pulls away after just a brief press of lips, but not before giving a soft lick to Bucky’s, full of promised things to come.

They sit there a few inches apart and breathe. Bucky feels like a vibrating tuning fork. He just barely stops himself from shakily saying “wow,” like a highschool virgin, but when he sees Steve looking at him with lips still parted and a gobsmacked expression he changes his mind and lets it out anyway, “wow,” with a giddy grin.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, blinking like he got hit with a cartoon hammer, going from pink to red, and then he swoops in and kisses Bucky’s cheek, and then stands, going, “Excuse me, just gotta go...out of your sightline, and. Do something cool. And serious. No victory dances.”

…..the next morning…….

Steve could hear Bucky in the shower, sneezing three times, but not sounding—four times—nearly as heavy or exhausted as the night before. A few minutes and one loud noseblow later, he came out wrapped in a towel, mercilessly bare-chested, his nose bright red but his eyes clear and cheerful. Steve’s attention caught on his chest as his nipples tightened in the relative chill as Bucky said sheepishly, “forgot my clo-hothes—” his voice swooping to a breathy quaver on the last word, “hhh-hh-hehh—EHisSHOooh!” he turned as far away from Steve’s part of the room as possible and sneezed over his shoulder. “Snnfff. Excuse me, sorry.”

“Can I lend you some warmer stuff, just for now while we eat breakfast? There’s no way you’re not still sick,” Steve fussed, forcing himself to round the kitchen island slowly and casually instead of rushing over and wrapping him up in his arms and kissing his red nose that was twitching again. He quelled it with another sniff that sounded a lot less congested than the previous night.

“Ah, I’m ok. I felt really bad yesterday, but I slept so well,” he said with a warm grateful smile at Steve that went to his toes, “I don’t feel shitty and run-down anymore, just all, like, shnuffly.”

Steve chuckled helplessly and went over to rub his shoulder. “You’re adorable.”

“No way!” Bucky glowered, but then a few drops fell from his wet hair to his chest and neck, and he shivered into a sneeze so quick and light it sounded incomplete, “hih—tish!” followed by “ih-hihtchoo!” and he blinked, taken by surprise.

“That was... the cutest thing that ever happened,” Steve said truthfully.

“Shuddup— heh—edschoo!”

#at some point they bone and there are like snapshots of that written #just sayin #snz fic #stucky snz fic #sneeze kink fanfiction #cute sick bucky #snzfic #lots of not-snz plot but the story is still basically Bucky Has The Sneezies You Must Save Him Steve

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acerikus · 3 months ago

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G o d. All gekkos' outertale posting makes me wanna talk more in depth about the characterisation and plot issues in this game and why they bother me...

(readmore bc holy fuck this got long, it's probably like 5k words. It's also pretty much all salt, categorised by character)

Toriel

Why. Why is she like this. Kinda feels like the creator of the game hates her and if they don't, they have a weird way of showing it. She's treated as overdramatic and unjustified in her anger at asgore despite the fact that he DID declare war on humanity and he DID willingly let the people believe he was killing human children to harvest their souls. Even if he didn't do it for real in this game, she has every right to be angry and to not trust him, and it CERTAINLY doesn't make her undeserving to be a mother or whatever. Idk about you, but I don't think wanting kids to stay away from a man yelling about wanting to kill every child that crosses him makes you a bad parent, even if it turns out he didn't really hurt anyone y'know?

They also REALLY zoned in on 'mother' with her in a way that doesn't really make sense here. I could maybe see her feeling guilty for making a snap judgement but how would that call her motherhood into question?

Sans saying isolation messed with her makes no sense too!!!! The outerlands or whatever they called the ruins isn't sealed off in this game, other monsters seem way less intimidated by her in this game than in undertale (she has friends! She knows sans by name and goes to napstablook's shows and even has their phone number!), and we outright get told she takes the taxi to get her groceries... Meaning she headed off to the rest of the outpost and probably does that often enough.

All things considered, Toriel seems fairly well adjusted in outertale, at least by outertale standards. Kinda then makes it feel like everyone's just trying to convince her she's hysterical and that... Sucks.

Also the fact that they added an ending where you stay with her and framed it as a bad ending that doomed everyone is... Really mean? It sucked ass I'm sorry :/

Sans

... Why is he like this. This take on Sans is absolutely infuriating tbh. The only positive I really have here is that his puns are kinda good, I've seen fangames that fuck up this element massively and it was kinda fun to see his interactions in starton.

Okay, back to salt. His whole 'i became a sentry to help humans' thing is trash. He didn't care about that in ut! He didn't care about that at all! The only reason he looks out for frisk is because he made a promise to toriel, and he hates breaking promises. He didn't want to let down his friend.

...Huh. realising this is yet another case of Toriel disrespect somehow. Yet another thing they took from her, that they then just... Handed over to sans instead. :/

His lack of backstory. Look, I get wanting something silly, but they took almost everything that makes sans interesting away. Not hyperfocusing on sans like certain aus do is nice, but it feels like in a lot of situations in this game they overcompensated by a long shot.

No mysterious past/origins. We know he worked with alphys I guess but???? Honestly I have a LOT to rant about for that part so I'll leave it for twinkly's section. And yet despite all this, Sans inexplicably bleeds in tpe when not even undertale has that happen? Make up your mind!

His role in non Asriel chaotic also... Sucks ass. I'm in a pretty awesome corner of the fandom in terms of the people I follow and the takes I see as a result, so if I'm honest, when I saw all those posts about 2024 fanon sans being indifferent to his brother's murder, I kinda just figured they were vaguing about this game. You're telling me that sans of all people just shrugs off you killing everyone and complains a little bit before letting you pass?! He should know alphys already ran off. He should know the only person left to stop you is asgore, and that it's obvious he won't. Part of this could be connected to how frisk is written perhaps, and much like the twinkly situation, I'll have much more to say on that further down.

I understand the creator didn't wanna have a sans fight in their game - however, if that's the case... Maybe come up with a reason for him to NOT show up in the last corridor, then? Have him busy helping with evacuations or something, or already dead like in the first chaotic ending... This was just sloppy.

Papyrus

Honestly he wasn't... Terrible. The phonecalls were fun even if most were cheap references (though they can be fun in fangames sometimes so I'm not mad at this lol). Him being extremely talented at making spaghetti is just one symptom of one of this game's biggest flaws, however. I really don't like how nobody's really allowed to be bad at anything or have any real struggles in this game - especially when spaghetti in undertale is used to demonstrate his relationship with undyne and the similar wavelength they're on when humans aren't involved. She's the one who started teaching him to cook it, it's deeply intertwined with his desire to be a royal guard, and it's something they suck at together. Him just inexplicably being good at it is... Weird, and feels really disconnected from their friendship and her reluctance to let him in the guard yknow?

Also: his boss final phase. Having the dog NOT take his special attack away this time was really funny admittedly but... Idk? Not only is the fight really unfair for pacifist/neutral and those who aren't as good at the game (ut never gets this hard outside of geno), it feels way too on the nose in terms of insisting he's strong and has powerful attacks. Undertale didn't need to overcompensate to get across that papyrus is strong and disciplined and the way you have to infer that in undertale is way cooler. I might just be nitpicking with this point tbh but it's whatever. Letting myself be a hater for once.

And don't get me started on him getting together with Mettaton. It seemed to come out of absolutely nowhere, the idea that they were already friends in this was glossed over really quickly and no time was really put into developing the relationship save for papyrus commenting on finding him attractive every few minutes.

Gotta be honest, I've never been a fan of this ship nor understood its popularity. Papyrus very briefly mentions thinking he's attractive in undertale, but it doesn't really go anywhere and I'm not even sure mettaton knows he exists. It feels like it was just kinda added because it's a popular ship and that's it, not sure it really contributes much to either of their arcs. It was a light-hearted celebrity crush in canon and never really tried to be more.

Oh, oops. Had more to say here than I thought.

Undyne

Not much to say here... I think she was okay, there's nothing super bad with her. I do think the way gerson kinda downplays her/lacks faith in her in the chaotic route kinda sucks and I think choosing to make her non-undying chaotic bossfight harder sure was A Choice, but it's whatever. Undying was weirdly easy in a way that didn't do her much justice. Honestly they didn't do enough with her for me to have a wall of complaints and I can't tell if that's a good thing or not. Her relationship with alphys didn't really amount to much and her lack of understanding of human culture doesn't really hit as hard when she's just talking about random sci-fi things that we have no way of knowing are real or not in this game's idea of the 2600s ourselves, y'know? Her love of anime (that she mistakenly thinks is human history) is pretty absent here except to validate her relationship with alphys in a very shallow way.

The Ghost Family

Hoo boy... Was gonna make this the mettaton section, but I wanted to talk about napstablook at the same time, so I'm just gonna lump them all together.

What. What the hell was this plotline.

It feels like they tried to go for 'smalltime farmer chases passion for stardom after feeling unfulfilled at home' and as I've seen someone else say, 'shy business owner struggles to talk to their cousin outside of work'. This would've been fine tbh, but... There's a lot of things in the execution of this that kinda grossed me out if I'm honest. I don't think they were intentional, but I think it could've been thought through a lot better to avoid some unfortunate implications - or even lean into them in a respectful way.

Firstly, the ghost family intervention was pretty long, awkward, and didn't feel like it really added much - especially when most people playing would already know mettaton's backstory anyway (and his house is still accessible like in undertale!!!!! What was the point?)

Mettaton airing out his family issues on live TV feels very ooc - he keeps that stuff very close to his chest and I doubt he'd like it getting out. Him entertaining any of that out in the open seems... Weird.

Speaking of the intervention, his cousins' treatment of him was horrifying! Part of it seems intentional and it's nice that there's at least one part in the game where characters are allowed to have flaws and do bad things but... There's also elements that feel like you're meant to agree with them? Their insistence that mettaton just come home and everything they did in the past with constantly badgering him to come and help out on the farm were rightfully treated as something that hurt mettaton's feelings and that gave napstablook and the others pause. That's (mostly, we'll come back to it later) fine. He called them out for it and they reflected on it, cool. The way his ghost form was utilised makes me extremely uncomfortable, however.

Napstablook talks about hearing 'the real [mettaton]' in the recording, right to his face, 'the real mettaton' in this scenario alluding to his ghost form. Considering mettaton is a trans allegory, this feels... Kinda gross? In a similar vein, when passing mettaton's quiz barriers, one of the questions is 'what is mettaton's true identity' and you have the option to deadname him (using a name papyrus literally just made up in undertale rather than having any kind of creativity ofc) Alphys' reaction is simply to ask how you know that which... Doesn't feel great. The correct answer is 'mettaton' ofc thankfully, but everything around this particular plot point feels weird. Maybe don't do that w the most prevalent trans allegory character..?

And ofc, they keep insisting he just come home, go back to working on the farm, go back to his family... Idk, gives me vibes of someone abandoning their shitty transphobic family and then insisting they want to see 'the real [deadname] again' and for them to abandon their new life and just go back to the way things were before. Not good.

All of this would still be okay for the most part since the ghost family are painted as being unfair to mettaton... But in true pacifist, he goes back to helping out with the farm anyway and talks about how he thinks he was probably just being dramatic after all, and how 'blooky didn't do anything that bad'

... What?

It takes me right back to Toriel's treatment. Napstablook, Maddie and lurksalot gave no real thought to mettaton's feelings, made it all about them and showed pretty much no support for his transition nor his career! Fuck those guys! It's funny - mettaton is pretty consistently a pompous asshole (affectionate) in undertale but here, I think all his feelings towards his family were COMPLETELY valid. Mettaton outertale didn't do anything wrong.

Lurksalot didn't feel like they contributed much to the story either, save to be yet another character treating mettaton like shit with zero consequences nor narrative judgement. They just made every ghost family event even more drawn out.

And then ofc!!!! Mettaton and Alphys' friendship is so bland in this game! They're two people who kinda know each other and she says some nice things about him in a letter in chaotic but that's about it. Their friendship and the subsequent conflict frisk's arrival brings to it in undertale is the heart of hotland and the core, but here it's just replaced with unnecessary, hard to watch, boring family drama. The two of them have no issues to work out. She doesn't ask too much of him. There's no funny quips and barely any chemistry at all. God forbid either of them have any real flaws.

One last thing: I'm glad maddie gets her mew mew body, it's nice. Wish it was an on-screen moment or something alluded to more though. Some of that time dragging out the family drama could've been used on that instead, y'know? Especially with napstablook getting the mew mew doll... Genuinely thought they were gonna show it to her when they first got hold of it, rather than dragging Frisk into their intervention. She should've gotten to be more mad, too. Kinda a big part of her identity.

Oh, and mettaton's no-asriel chaotic fight was bullshit. It was a nice spamton reference and the first phase was cool, but the second was utter bullshit and dragged out the fight way too long. Attacking him after snapping all the wires should've killed him im sorry. It's even more of a shame bc I genuinely really liked this game's mettaton neo fight - it was fun and creative and felt possible.

Holding myself back from adding any more to this bc I could go on and on, ugh.

Alphys

Alphys. For a game that tries to make her the star of it, it's actually kinda impressive how much they managed to take away from her and just how uninteresting she is in this game.

At the surface level she's awesome, powerful, and the star of the show. In my first playthrough I was actually pretty happy to see her thriving like this! The more routes I played and the more I thought about it though they just kinda... Declawed her. Took away all her flaws. Made her 'perfect' in a way that I don't think works at all.

The amalgamates never happened. None of her experiments went wrong. She never hid away from her mistakes, or lied to anyone (save for keeping Asgore's secret, which she has no negative feelings about), nor did she over engineer any situations to make herself seem cooler. She doesn't argue with Mettaton! She's confident and assertive! She's Asgore's right hand woman and next in line for the throne! And ofc, the badass final boss! What's not to love?

...But none of this is Alphys, is it?

Her anxiety isnt just because of the determination experiments, it's pretty clear she's always been a pretty shy and nervous person. In fact, based on her entries they were one of the things she was more confident in before it all went wrong. People are hard, but she knows science, y'know?

She doesn't get to be flawed or interesting - despite her presence, she's just a generic cool scientist who's suave with the ladies, I guess..?

She isn't particularly dorky, shes overly confident, she has zero issues to work through. Her relationship with undyne is perfect (derogatory) and her infodumping about anime just before the archive feels very forced, like they remembered last minute that she does that and thought it should be included somehow.

Depicting what she'd be like in a scenario where the determination experiments never happened is a fun and interesting idea! But deltarune demonstrates how to do that well, and I think they completely missed the mark. The way she talks, her body language, the way she acts around others in general... These things are universal constants and yet in outertale, she's basically a different person entirely.

Outertale alphys isn't allowed to lie (save to cover for asgore Secretly Being A Good Person), she isn't allowed to miscalculate, she isn't allowed to mis-speak or make mistakes or do anything she'd regret. She feels like an alphys written by someone who hates her in canon and thinks all her flaws make her terrible and unlikable. I doubt this is the case since I don't think a person like that would've given her such prevalence, but that's the level of love and attention I feel was given to her writing here. It makes me sad.

And, of course... The DT experiments and her fight.

... Why did she have vials of determination if all the humans are alive? Did she take it from them? If so, was this before or after they went into stasis? We know she's not been the royal scientist for long in relation to how long humans have been falling, so did ROMAN take the determination? How much of this did she even DO?

Why did she and sans even DO anything with determination? It... Doesn't really make sense.

Speaking of determination, why did she melt at the end of her fight? I'd assume she's injected herself with determination as one of the vials in her lab is mentioned to be partially used, but I'm pretty sure it's also like this on pacifist. Was that overlooked? Are we just meant to assume it's MORE depleted? Does she just have natural determination now because She's So Cool And Badass? This isn't even really a complaint about the fight, more just how poorly that part of her lab is handled lmao

But getting into her fight... Idk, it didn't really feel like her. A lot of it was just random bullshit that was hard for the sake of being hard, that didn't really seem to be tied to her identity very well at all. People complain a lot about the Zenith Martlet fight in undertale yellow but that's done far better than this, imo. It clearly reflects martlet's character, personality and canonical bullet patterns (we see Alphys' in ut tpe!), there's a genuine feeling of progression in the fight and the act you're given to help with the fight feels more effective - you can still damage her on her turn, so taking a turn to heal act doesn't feel like a waste. The Asriel acts though... They just don't last long enough to feel that worth it? Sure they're okay, but in general, you get a lot less time to breathe. Martlet's fight lets you retry from phase 2 if you die. Sans' in undertale gives you as many turns as you need to heal while he's sparing you. Alphys' fight just feels like it's made to feel un-fun and painful throughout in a way that just isn't worth it, and doesn't really feel like it fits her personality either, y'know? The fight was just a slog and like many others, I had zero motivation to finish it legit. I don't think it helps that the undyne and mettaton fights in this route are fairly easy and simple in comparison.

Tldr: they took away everything that makes alphys endearing, fun and interesting. This isn't alphys at all.

Asgore

A huge chunk of this essay accidentally got deleted, including my first attempt at writing this section. In it, I mentioned that the Asgore apologism went way too far.

This time though, I don't think I'd even call it that. Reflecting on it, it feels less like an attempt to defend him and more like a way to hate on and spite Toriel.

Seriously. So much of his character basically just feels like someone going 'fuck you toriel. I'm giving EVERYTHING to asgore.'

It's... Really weird?

Asgore having a way out of killing humans is an interesting concept! Outertale takes place 500 years in the future compared to undertale, so the idea that they have the resources and technology to do that is kinda cool and in theory, exploring this idea sounds really fun. In practice though, it feels like it was mostly done to make Toriel out to be an asshole for no reason and to laugh at her for ever assuming he would've really killed anyone (despite... Y'know. Telling everyone that's what he was doing.)

He just. Completely moved on from Toriel without a second thought seemingly, and doesn't even look that affected by seeing her turn up again - meanwhile SHE'S got crumpled up tea recipes in the trash and all the Sad Divorced Energy - it doesn't really fit either of them! Toriel wasn't really given a reason to miss him like that, and I think even if he DID fully move on, he'd be way happier to see her than that.

All his leading statements on how she must feel in LV1 pacifist sucked ass also, especially with the way she kinda just agreed that yeah, she feels like shit for not trusting that he'd suddenly do a 180 and not hurt anyone (AGAIN. AFTER HE CONTINUED TO LET EVERYONE BELIEVE THIS) and that she must feel unworthy of being a mother. She hadn't even said half of this in front of him yet! He put words in her mouth! That in itself would be fine (social blunders are pretty normal for asgore after all) but it... Wasn't treated like that. It was handled as if this was a sweet and compassionate thing for him to say which... Yikes.

And ofc he gets to adopt frisk, and monster kid, and get to have Asriel live with him! His fatherhood is never called to question in undertale, but ofc Toriel's motherhood has to be here. Hell, despite their divorced status, if you talk to gerson in tpe it's highly implied frisk asks if asgore would start aging again if he became their dad! Idk, all of this part just reeked of Toriel hate and nothing more. Asgore is just yet another character to get sanded down and de-clawed and it sucks. So much of what makes him interesting is his mistakes and flaws and how they impact him, y'know?

Twinkly

I wanna start this by saying I don't think his writing is too bad. It's not amazing by any means but by outertale standards, he's one of the better written characters. That being said, Flowey is my favourite character of all time so I'm still gonna be critical.

So they did save the goat. Save the goat aus really aren't my thing nowadays - I feel like so often people act like he's a separate person to Flowey entirely and act like the alarm clock app dialogue doesn't exist. Asriel didn't end the story as a doomed tragedy fated to fade away! Flowey ended the story as someone who finally got closure on the loss of his best friend, and can finally learn to move on, even if it takes him a while to adjust. I don't think he needs to be a goat again for that.

That being said, I know these kinda aus are a big wish fulfilment thing for a lot of the fandom that aren't even necessarily something people want to be canon as much as they just wanna explore the idea and see him truly happy, so I won't judge that element too harshly. People are allowed to have fun, and I think save the goat can be fine if it respects him as flowey rather than separating them.

I really like that they allow Asriel to be fucked up and an asshole rather than him soft rebooting into some Sweet Perfect Little Prince once he returns to his old form, like so many other save the goat takes. Even in lv0's ending he struggles to bite back insults and mean comments aimed at Monster Kid which is... Admittedly kinda refreshing! There's definitely some flowey (or I guess in this case, twinkly) behaviour that still comes through here and I'm glad. This carried over to chaotic, too. While his characterisation wasn't perfect, this at least felt like twinkly obtaining a few form and continuing to play with the world, rather than your standard Asriel take. I also really liked that he remembers and acknowledges chaotic if done before pacifist, that was neat and adds to his character (as far as this game goes) I think.

However, onto the biggest, glaring issue I have with him.

Why. Why does he exist.

No, seriously.

In its attempt to make the world perfect, a world that blatantly only exists so the creator could make a save the goat ending, mind, there's no reason for the goat to need to be saved at all. Nor for him to exist after dying back when Chara lived with the dreemurrs.

Asgore isn't killing humans, so the souls don't need to be absorbed by anyone. Frisk can just enter the archive and lend their power to destroy the forcefield themselves, so there's no ultimatum like there is in undertale - there's no implied tradeoff of Frisk's life for the freedom of monsters without twinkly's intervention. In undertale, flowey's messing around opened up an ending that would've otherwise been impossible, something that worked for everyone.

Without him existing at all here, frisk could've broken the barrier just fine. All it really added to pacifist was a couple extra boss fights and asgore being dead for two minutes. And him being saved I guess but again, there's no real story justification for him being here EXCEPT to pat yourself on the back for saving him.

Why was he created? In undertale it's pretty clear - they wanted a vessel to hold all the souls in for now during the true lab experiments. He exists because Alphys selected the first flower to ever grow in the garden and injected it with determination that she extracted from the human souls.

... But all the humans are... Alive and well in outertale? They don't need a vessel to contain their souls. They don't need to extract any determination from anyone. Again, why do they HAVE vials of determination? And why did she inject one into a flower?

AND THAT'S THE OTHER BIG THING. It's established she and sans injected a starling flower for... Whatever reason. SO WHY THE HELL IS TWINKLY A CARTOON STAR?!

This point makes absolutely no sense at all. He looks absolutely nothing like a starling flower nor does he behave like a flower at all, which is confusing if that's what he started as. Honestly, I think it would've made more sense to just keep him as Flowey if they were gonna include him at all, and just have his appearance reflect a starling flower instead of a golden flower.

This applies to his fight too. Mechanically I think it's AWESOME, but the visuals are... Just very very boring. A huge part of why his fight in the original is so good it's the bizarre and chaotic nature of it, the horror elements, and the way so much of flowey's trauma in terms of how he was created and the things he finds scary was put on blast for all to see. The combination of mechanical and organic elements, all the plants and insects... Idk, just going 'hmm he's a star. Let's have him go through a star life cycle' is boring, there's no visual appeal.

If his creation is so vague and wishy washy, this would've been a great opportunity to flesh it out more. How was he created? What kinds of technology and machinery did alphys use to put all this together? How did she (or roman????? unclear) get the determination? What does twinkly remember?

That leads me onto a tangentially related topic - his trauma. I... Don't think this was shown very well. He talks a bit about BEING traumatised from the lab, but telling isn't the same as showing and canon flowey is terrible at hiding it, whereas I'd just as easily believe outertale Asriel made it up for sympathy points. He never really projects, he doesn't force anyone else to experience anything like he did, nothing like that. He's just a cocky asshole who likes killing, and who eventually decides to start being nice.

This game constantly seemed to be speedrunning ways to get him from being twinkly to being Asriel as quickly as possible in almost every single route which... Huh???? It's weird. Would've been nice to let him be a star more rather than just Asriel...

(final amendment bc I lost a huge chunk of this essay originally and had to rewrite it, and I'm realising I didn't manage to fit this in this time... How does a single monster soul let him get his Asriel form again? Sure he's still treated as if soulless and it doesn't make him a good person, but if he was 'so tired of being a star', why hadn't he tried doing this sooner? It makes no sense...)

For a game that exists to give him a good ending, it's so ironic how little he needs to exist at all in this world. Just goes to show what it looks like when you go too far with 'fixing' things or removing stuff you seem 'too problematic' for the sake of being wholesome or whatever.

Chara

Speaking of which... Look I'm just gonna say it. This version of Chara sucks so bad.

Chara is one of my favourite characters - they're really interesting, morally grey, and a fascinating way for undertale as a game to interface with us as players.

They're a child who likely saw the worst of humanity, then found themselves in a home with family who genuinely loved them once they fell down and met the monsters. Their intense saviour complex made them feel like the best way to help their family was to sacrifice their own life to get enough souls to break them free (and once they realised they had control, get payback against the humans while they were at it). They could be mean-spirited and a prankster. They valued efficiency HIGHLY. Their favourite number was nine because it's the limit, the absolute, a way to stop hurting and to stop others hurting.

And by doing geno, you can push this fixation on stats further. Max out all your stats. Gain power. Get stronger. Become invincible. Nobody can hurt any more if the world is gone. And ofc, they stand as the final arbiter of consequences for the player. Your punishment for killing everyone and for pushing them into believing it needs to be completed. Chara both IS is and is separate from us in a way that can't really be fully disentangled and it's really, really cool.

Anyway, enough gushing about undertale Chara. What's outertale Chara in comparison?

... Nothing.

They're nothing.

Outertale Chara narrates occasionally. They're a ghost that follows frisk around, but aren't confined to that, and have been actively wandering the underground since their death. They also still have a SOUL for some reason? This part doesn't really make sense at all.

Other than sacrificing themself and maybe wanting to take out a few humans after Asriel absorbs them, they don't do anything that could be considered bad ever. The most devious thing they ever do is snatch Asriel's diary to leave a silly comment in there when they first arrive at the outpost (sans does this with Toriel's phone in undertale tpe for comparison lmao). Despite what Asriel seems to believe, Chara is completely absent from the chaotic route - never getting corrupted, never caring about our stats, never wanting to hurt anyone, never even trying to make us face any consequences. They're just... Not here. For a character so prevalent in the murder based route of undertale this is fucking wild.

They all but vanish if you so much as say something slightly mean to someone, too! It's strange, makes no sense, and just like with sans, it feels like they overcompensated waaaaaaay too much for the people who insist they're evil. On top of that, if you do chaotic before lv0, they don't even remember chaotic happening! They'd may as well have just been a member of the ghost family who likes following Frisk around when they're especially nice. Like Asgore and alphys, they've been sanded down and de-clawed to be 'wholesome' and 'perfect', and it just results in a bland, boring character who loses anything that made them interesting, nuanced and fun.

'Chara wasn't the greatest person'... Why, though? They don't have enough substance in this game for that line to really have as much impact.

Frisk

I'm gonna be honest - I actually ADORED their frisk at first, and I think that's because I started with a neutral run and ended up drawing them a lot. They felt silly and mischievous and interesting, and this continued into chaotic. They seem pretty chill with what's going on but then take that even further by being hilariously affectionate with Asriel and still doing silly things like being up for picking up the electrodampening fluid or drinking directly out of the fountain. They felt like a funny little mini-kris (save for being okay with all the murder ofc).

Then uhhhhhhh... That's when I experienced the second chaotic ending, the one without Asriel, as well as lv0. I feel like they definitely DID try to lean on the Kris angle on purpose in terms of their feelings on being controlled and stuff but it???? Just doesn't work very well? There's no ambiguity to this version of frisk once you've seen all the routes. Just like EVERYONE ELSE, they're just a perfect little angel who would never do anything wrong and anything past lv0 is just the eeeeeevil player influence or whatever. Come on, we have deltarune for that kinda approach to control 😭 (though even then, Kris is a layered and interesting character who isn't goodness and innocence personalised, and that's why they're cool)

In undertale, we have no idea what frisk is like as a person. WOULD they spare everyone without our influence? Would they kill? Would they be a scared child lashing out in self defense? Would they run from everything, then give up and let themselves die permanently somewhere? We just don't know! We're not supposed to know! It feels like it went back to the very early fandom interpretation where frisk is Good And Sweet and Innocent while Chara is evil incarnate - except this time they're BOTH the former.

It's a contradiction too! Why in the Asriel chaotic route are they so down to follow him, and pet him, and hug him every chance they get if they don't like all the stuff we're making them so? The player has no influence over Twinkly. Every single thing he did, he chose to do, and yet even if the only time frisk has seen him was him destroying their mercy button and forcing them to kill for him, they seem to love him to pieces and go along with whatever he says happily. What.

I feel like they didn't know what to do with Frisk here at all and it shows.

Other characters

This has been ridiculously long, but to quickly go over non-major characters... They did very few things to make Roman seem interesting, the amount of stuff hes implied to have helped Asgore with just reduces even further any influence or impact alphys had, and (a smaller nitpick)... Why didn't he use times new roman as a font when we DID see him speak in the archive/on the signal stars? It's such a missed opportunity...

Burgerpants was fun... Kinda. Developing him like this feels like something that should've happened DURING the actual game rather than before it though because it made him feel like a whole other person entirely? The poisoned food was very funny though.

Why is Snowy now Stardrake when his dad hasn't changed at all and Crystal looks like any other snowdrake? That was bizarre.

I actually really liked the humans! Establishing them as actual characters was really fun, and I especially like justice. Justice, at least in my opinion, is probably the most interesting character in this whole game tbh - someone who tried to do good but ultimately caused more harm than good, while NOT downplaying it, showing the consequences directly, and showing them work to try to make things better. The way we don't grab their item like the others in the twinkly fight nor go through an area for them in the archive (and just talk to them instead) really adds to their intrigue - what are they like? Who did they know? Is there something they don't want us to see? How are they strong enough to not need us to grab their weapon at all to lend their help? I think it's get funny that the only character I'm fully praising is the clover-adjacent one. Justice outertale they could never make me hate you

(that being said... seeing the way this game is clearly just supposed to be a 'fix' for undertale does sour my thoughts on the humans a little. did they only do this bc they thought them NOT being full characters in ut was bad/a problem with it? 🥴 This applies to the additional monster kid story focus too).

Speaking of monster kid... Them being an orphan was clearly just a plot device to give asgore more kids and therefore feel like he won more than Toriel. Monster kid in undertale seems like they probably did have real and loving parents, and they have a sister too!!!! Would've been nice if they'd at least done something with their sister :(

This got... Way longer than I expected, so I'll stop here. But outertale definitely gave me an even bigger appreciation for other ut fangames. My gripes with deltatraveler section 3 feel much smaller in comparison now, if tsus misses the mark on Flowey later down the line they've at least already done most characters so much more justice, and it really puts into perspective all the heart and soul that went into kissy cutie, as well as its genuine love got the source material and characters.

Sorry outertale, you weren't for me. That being said, if anyone disagrees with any of this then that's fine! These are all just my opinions and feelings on it after going through all the routes and talking about it with friends. Media is always gonna resonate with different people in different ways and that's a good thing! If your perspective on any of this is different and if you had way more fun with it, I'm glad you did and I genuinely wish I could've felt the same. I feel like at the very least, making it has probably been a great learning experience for the devs and I really hope they carry on making games and improving their skills. Hope y'all are thriving and having fun regardless 💙

#xan plays outertale #I'm not tagging it w the actual game name. that wouldn't feel right #again: most of this is salt. it's also an opinion piece #it was just nice to get my thoughts out there yknow?#if anyone manages to read all this i respect your perseverance tbh lol #ps out hater hours

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