#<- can i buy a vowel or something. damn

[greelin]

is this anything.

[mxdimitrescu]

Late Night Fun

Synopsis: A late night texting leads to something steamy.

Genre: Pure filthy smut

Pairing: Vanessa x GP!Reece Johnson

(Masterlist)

Vanessa

I sat in the corner of the couch and clicked through the Netflix menu, searching for a movie to watch.

"There's never anything good on here anymore. Why do I still pay for this?" I muttered. I felt the phone buzz in the pocket of my hoodie, and pulled it out. I smiled when I saw the text.

Reece: This night is dragging. I can't wait to come home :(

I shook my head as I texted back.

Vanessa: Aw babe. You don't have much longer. You get off at 2 right?

I tossed the Playstation controller to the side and waited for her to text back.

Reece: Yeah but Im gonna ask if i can leave early. It's so dead tonight. I miss you.

Vanessa: I miss you too baby. you only have another hour tho. You'll be okay lol be patient

Reece: Well I'm gonna text you till I leave cuz there's nothing else to do. I already cleaned up.

I laid down on the couch and sighed as I smiled at the phone.

Vanessa: that's fine. I'm not doing anything anyways. oh shit, can you stop at the store before you come home and get me some oreos? i'm craving some bad.

Reece: okay. imma bring you something else too ;)

I smirked as I read the text.

Vanessa: oh yeah? what's that

I put the phone down and stood from the couch, stretching as I walked to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. I took a long drink as I walked back to the living room and grabbed my phone.

I bit my lip as I opened the picture message Reece sent. She was standing in front of the mirror in the dimly lit bathroom of the bar. She held the phone with one hand, and was lifting her shirt slightly with the other so I could see her abs. My eyes drifted down, and I raised a brow when she noticed the slight bulge of her hardened member in Reece's jeans. I quickly texted her back.

Vanessa: Lol, are you hard at work?

Reece: Yup ;)

Vanessa: You're hot. Stop playing with me lol

Reece: I'm hard for you babe.

Vanessa: Smh I bet you are.. hurry up and get home.

Reece: Lol what happened to being patient?

Vanessa: Lol bye! You're really rude. Why would you turn me on like that when you know you aren't gonna be home anytime soon? Now I gotta wait!

Reece: Lol stop whining.. just be ready when I get there.

Vanessa: I've been ready since you left.

Reece: Oh really? Did I not satisfy you well enough earlier?

Vanessa: Baby, you know you did. But I swear every time you walk out that door.. my body just starts aching for you again..

Reece: Mmm. What part of your body.. specifically lol

Vanessa: Lol smh guess

Reece: Hmm.. can I buy a vowel lol

Vanessa: Lmao.. you play entirely too much

Reece: Lol. I know that pussy is aching for me baby.

I bit my lower lip and sighed before texting back.

Vanessa: You gonna handle it when you get home?

Reece: Mhm. Soon as  walk in the door it's getting handled.

Vanessa: Oh yeah? Tell me what you're gonna do

Reece: Well first of all, I need you naked before I even get there

Vanessa: That can be arranged.. I'm barely wearing anything now.

Reece: Pants or no pants?

Vanessa: No pants.

Reece: Shirt?

Vanessa: I'm wearing your red hoodie.. no bra.. no shirt.

Reece: Shorts?

Vanessa: Just those black panties you like.

Reece: You're fucking killing me. You can keep the panties on

Vanessa: Lol.. tell me what you're gonna do to me baby.

Reece: I'm picking you up and laying you on the couch

Vanessa: Damn, we ain't even makin it to the bedroom huh?

Reece: No. We're skipping a couple of steps lol

Vanessa: lol I can see that

Reece: so, you'll be on the couch. I'll be on top of you, kissing you. I'm not gonna be able to keep my hands off of you

Reece: I'm gonna bite that spot on your neck that I know makes you soak your panties

Vanessa: Fuck you're turning me on so much

Reece: I can't wait to suck on your hard nipples. Are they hard right now?

I slid a hand underneath the hoodie, and moaned as my fingers brushed over a rock hard nipple. I played with it gently as I texted back.

Vanessa: Yes baby

Reece: I thought so.. I wanna kiss you everywhere

Reece: I wanna spread your perfect thighs so I can see that wet pussy. Touch yourself and tell me how wet you are.

My hand slipped down my body and beneath my panties. I gasped quietly when I felt how wet I was.

Vanessa: Baby I'm so fucking wet for you right now. I can't believe this shit

Reece: You're still touching yourself aren't you?

Vanessa: Yes baby

Reece: stop. I don't want you cuming before I get there.

Vanessa: babyyyyyy you're wylin right now!

Reece: Lol. I'll be there soon. You gonna let me eat that pussy?

I groaned and closed my eyes after reading the text. I let out a frustrated sigh before texting back

Vanessa: That's all I want right now baby. Ugh I need to feel your tongue on me, sucking my clit

Reece: That's what you want?

Vanessa: Yesss please I want it so bad

Reece: Is that all you want?

Vanessa: No.. that's not all..

Reece: What else do you want?

Vanessa: I want you inside of me.. I want you to fuck me baby

Reece: Yeah? You want me to pull on your hair while I fuck you from behind?

Vanessa: Yes baby please

Reece: You want me deep inside of you? Hittin that spot while you scream?

Vanessa: God baby please hurry

Reece: I'm gonna wear that pussy out when I get home. Take off that hoodie

I dropped the phone and quickly tore off the hoodie before throwing it to the floor. I heard the phone buzz again.

Reece: I've been thinking about you all night. I can still taste you from earlier. You came sooo much baby. I love that I can make you cum like that with just my tongue

Reece: If you were here right now I would bend you over this bar and eat that pussy from the back. I wouldn't even care who was watching

I moaned quietly as I read her texts, trying my hardest not to touch myself.

Vanessa: You gotta stop baby lol.. you're making me so wet

Reece: Can you do me a favor really quick?

Vanessa: Anything

Reece: Push two fingers inside of your pussy

Reece: Pull them out and taste yourself.

I groaned and pushed my hand under my panties again, moaning softly as I fingered myself. I heard the phone buzz again.

Reece: Don't get carried away.. I know you're over there fucking yourself. Stop. Put your fingers in your mouth

Reece: Suck them clean

I closed my eyes again and stuck my fingers into my mouth, moaning as I sucked on them greedily. I reached back down to touch myself again when I got another text.

Reece: You better stop. Save some for me.

I laughed softly as I texted back.

Vanessa: You know me too well.

Reece: Tastes good, doesn't it?

Vanessa: Mmhm, I can't wait till you get here. I want you to eat me till I cum

Reece: Don't I always? i love it when you cum in my mouth. It's such a turn on.

A sudden knock at the door broke me out of my spell and I sat up.

Vanessa: Someone's at the door. Are you expecting company?

Reece: It's me. I got off early and took a Lyft home.

Reece: Open this door.

I stood from the couch and quickly walked to the door.

"Open up, honey," I heard Reece say sweetly before I unlocked the door.

I pulled it open and saw her standing on the other side. Reece leaned against the door frame with her backpack slung over her shoulder. She stared hungrily at me, and took a step inside of the apartment.

"They let you leave early?" I asked Reece nodded as she dropped her bag and closed the door.

She lifted me into her arms and walked toward the couch slowly.

"Yeah. Stopped at the gas station across the street and got your Oreos. They're in my bag," Reece said in a low voice.

She lowered me onto the couch, and kissed me softly.

"You can have them later."

I grinned coyly as Reece pulled back and looked at my body.

"Later?" I asked.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Did you think I was joking in those texts?" she asked seriously, "Spread your legs."

Reece kissed me deeply as she lay between my legs on the couch.

"Why do I get the feeling you knew you were getting off early this entire time," I smirked as Reece kissed her way down my body.

"Cause you're the smartest woman in the world," Reece said, kissing the side of my breast.

"But also because when I'm horny, I'm very predictable." I chuckled, then moaned softly as Reece licked my nipple before sucking it gently.

"Thank God for that," I breathed as she switched breasts.

"Thank fucking God."

Reece continued to make her way down my body, raking her short fingernails across my stomach, and grinning when I shivered.

"I have been waiting for this all night," She husked as she ran her thumb across the front of my panties.

She pulled the panties to the side, and I bit my lower lip, watching as Reece dragged her tongue through my soaked pussy. She raised an eyebrow. I sucked in a breath as she licked at her clit.

"You taste super sweet," Reece said observantly.

I giggled, then let out a deep moan as Reece's tongue swept through my folds again.

"Oh shit," I whispered.

I put one hand behind her head and the other on my own breast and played with my nipple gently as Reece watched.

"Keep doing that," She said breathlessly before sucking my hard clit into her mouth. I moaned and closed my eyes.

"Don't fucking stop," I said quietly.

She pushed my thighs further apart as she worked her tongue over me. I let out a shaky breath at the sound of Reece's lips sucking at me as she went faster. Reece moaned against my swollen lips, sucking each one into her mouth before delving her tongue into my entrance. She then pulled back slightly and kissed my inner thigh.

"Sit up," She said as she lifted her head. She took my hands and pulled me into a sitting position on the couch.

"Baby what are you doing," I whined as she pushed the coffee table further away. When she turned back around, I was sitting with her back against the couch, pouting making her smiled.

"I need space," she said as she knelt in front of the couch, pulling my panties off and pushing my thighs apart again. She bit her lip and stared down at my body.

"Play with yourself."

I slid a hand down my body as she watched. I moaned as my fingers slipped between the wet folds and across my aching clit.

"You see how wet you make me," I breathed as I stroked herself.

Her breathing grew heavy as she watched my fingers glide through my soaked center. I pushed her fingers back inside of me, moaning softly. "I need you, baby. I need you to fuck me right now."

"Oh yeah? Right this second?"

"Right now baby, please," I moaned, fingering faster.

Reece let go of my legs and unbuttoned her pants. She pushed them down, revealing her hardened member. I moaned and sucked my fingers as Y/n stared down at me.

"On your knees," Reece said quietly.

I did as I was told, turning my back to her as I knelt on the couch. I rested my head against the back of the couch as Reece pushed her member into me.

"Yes," I moaned as she thrusted into me again.

She bit her lower lip held my waist as she worked her member deeper. She leaned over me and bit into my neck roughly. I dug my fingernails into the couch cushion and cried out as she went faster.

"Yes baby fuck my pussy."

"Yours? I thought it was mine," Reece growled into my ear as she fucked me hard. "Tell me it's mine, Vanessa."

"It's yours baby, this pussy is yours," I whimpered as she pushed one hand into my hair and tugged it hard.

I felt my knees began to buckle, but Reece wrapped her arms around me and kept me from collapsing into the couch. She smiled slightly as she angled her hips and buried herself even deeper inside me.

"Fuck daddy," I cried and pressed my hand against her stomach, pushing her back. "Hold on, stop." She stopped and pulled back.

"You okay?" she asked. I nodded and let out a deep breath. I reached for her and pulled her in for a firm kiss.

"We need to try a different position because I'm about to pass out," I said. Reece smirked as she stepped out of her pants.

"Does that mean I'm doing a good job?" she asked as she sat on the couch next to me. I climbed on top of her and rested my arms on her shoulders.

"Yes, it does." I leaned forward and kissed her softly. She reached in between us and grabbed her member.

"Wanna stay on top?" She asked in a low voice.

I nodded and lowered myself onto her. I moaned softly as she wrapped her arms around my back and kissed my exposed neck. I furrowed my brow and placed one hand on the back of her neck, while pushing the other through her dark tresses. She pressed her lips against my throat as I rode her slowly.

"Mmm you feel so good," I moaned as I lifted off her member slightly before lowering my hips again. Reece sighed as I arched, tipping backwards, but she held me tight as I rode her slowly.

"Come here," Reece mumbled, pulling me against her again. She pressed her forehead to my bare chest and breathed heavily as I rose and fell in her lap.

"Reece," I choked out as I pushed myself down on her. She moaned and kissed my chest in response, making me shiver. I rocked against her, my hips jerking slightly as my orgasm approached.

"Baby I'm so close."

She moved one hand from my back and slid it between her legs to stroke her clit.

"I'm close too baby. I wanna see you cum," Reece said before biting her lower lip and looking up at me. I groaned as pressed one hand into the back of the couch, the other still in her hair. I leaned down and kissed her hungrily before I tensed slightly.

"Daddy, baby," I let out a soft sob as Reece stroked me faster.

She held me trembling body as I came hard in her lap, whimpering her name with each wave of my orgasm.

Reece thrusted faster until she stiffened and let out a moan as white jets of cum painted my walls. I ran my hands through her hair as she slowly died down from her intense orgasm.

"God you're so beautiful," Reece whispered tenderly, removing her hand from between my legs and wrapping it around my waist.

I still moved slightly on top of her, grinding down on her member to ride out the last bit of my orgasm. She kissed under my chin, then neck and collarbone as I slowed down.

"Stay here. Don't get off yet." I moaned quietly, not ready to move yet anyway.

"Can't we just stay like this forever," I mumbled tiredly, leaning fully against Reece, unable to support myself. She continued to kiss me anywhere her lips could reach.

"Yes, we can," she said between kisses.

"Lies," I said, smiling as she laughed and looked up at me again.

"Well, I wish we could," Reece said quietly as I pressed my forehead to hers.

"I love you."

"I love you too," I said then yawned loudly, making her laugh again.

"You tired baby?" she asked, making me nod.

"You ready to get up?" I nodded.

"You know you're carrying me to bed, right?" I asked.

Reece rolled her eyes and smiled at me.

"Yeah, I kind of figured."

[sholiofic]

July Break Bingo: Reincarnation

Prompt: Reincarnation 500 words, Biggles +/ EvS, bittersweet

The park was brilliant in the sun, filled with flowers and skateboarders, the sky a deep blue bowl above. James bought an ice cream cone from a vendor, and licked it while checking his phone as he walked, reviewing his handful of job applications. He wasn't unhappy that none of them had so much as snagged an interview.

He really didn't know what he wanted to do with himself. He was fresh out of a stint with the RAF that he hadn't much enjoyed, it simply hadn't been what he wanted, even though it had felt like the only thing to do when he was eighteen. And now he was at loose ends, with a pilot's training .... on aeroplanes he couldn't fly in the civilian world. It was very frustrating. Somehow he felt it ought to have been different.

He could get a commercial pilot's license, he thought; he had the training and the flight hours, it was just the necessity to learn on civilian aircraft that he was lacking. He did love the freedom of it, the sky above and below him, as if in some way he had known it for longer than he had been alive. He might be able to enjoy that. It wasn't quite the thing he wanted -- but it almost was, it felt closer than he'd been in a very long time.

When a hand closed on his wrist, jolting him out of his thoughts, he reacted with military training, dropping his ice cream and seizing the other man's arm as their eyes met.

The man staring at him was older, hair shot with grey, eyes bright and wild and stormcloud blue-grey. He wore a suit that was oddly old-fashioned, quite out of place in the park with its skateboarders and teenagers. And his face was filled with a strange excitement, a sense of recognition that jolted James down to his core.

James let go of the other man's wrist before he could break it, and wrenched his arm free. "If you're giving out pamphlets, just hand it to me and go," he said, because what he couldn't quite understand was why that face looked so familiar, when he knew he had never seen it before.

"You won't believe what I'm handing out," the other man said quietly, falling into step with James. He had a neutral accent with something underneath, some hint of other vowels that, for some reason, had James's heart clawing up to try to hear more. "But I've been looking for you for --" He hesitated, as if snipping off some comment at its base, and then went on, "Come get a coffee with me. Let's talk. I think you might be looking for something to do with yourself -- aren't you? I can make you an offer you might like to consider."

James glanced at him. Then he said, "You owe me an ice cream."

A quick sharp smile broke across the austere features, making them very briefly beautiful -- and James thought, for no apparent reason, of a place he'd never been, a wide open expanse of desert with blue sky above and sweeping dunes below. Then the stranger (or was it a stranger?) said, "It is you. Yes, damn you, I'll buy your ice cream. Lead on, choose the place, I'll go with you. Wherever you go."

[heyitssmiller]

Frosted Windowpanes: Part One

The Christmas Fic is here! Featuring Logan the lumberjack, Leo who owns a diner, and Finn who was just trying to have a quiet, uneventful holiday (lol). This was supposed to be a oneshot, but y’all know I’m too long-winded for that, so it looks like we’ll be having at least one more part for this story!

@donttouchmycarrots Thank you so much for proofreading/encouraging/being such a wonderful, wonderful friend. I don’t think I’d still be writing without you and iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou 

@lumosinlove​ Again, thank you for such wonderful characters! And for creating such a wonderful, welcoming fandom! I never thought I’d post my writing where people could read it, but then I met y’all and here we are! You guys are amazing! Happy Holidays, everyone! <3

Part Two is now up!

.

It's that time of year When the world falls in love Every song you hear seems to say

- The Christmas Waltz

.

Piercing, bitter cold greeted Logan as he stepped outside for the first time that day. The kind of cold that made the entire body tense up and the breath hitch. It was a quiet early morning, with a stillness that only freshly-fallen snow could bring. Logan took a second to pull his toque further down over his head as he grabbed the chainsaw by the door before heading out to the truck, passing the sign with red, clean lettering that read Tremblay’s Christmas Trees.

“Took you long enough, sleeping beauty.” His sister, Noelle, teased from the driver’s seat of the beat-up truck that barely started most mornings.

“It’s too early for this.” He grumbled back, sliding into the passenger’s seat as the truck reluctantly spluttered to a start.

“The faster we get done out here, the faster we can go deal with customers.”

“That’s not exactly helping.”

Noelle laughed as she drove back into one of the fields, parking the truck at the far end. “Come on, it’s not that bad. They ask to buy a tree, you help them pick one out, take their money, and strap it to their car. Easy.”

They got out of the truck, grabbed the chainsaw from the back, and headed towards their first tagged tree. Logan grabbed the tree around its trunk to stabilize it while Noelle powered up the chainsaw, putting their conversation on hold. She crouched down to start cutting the base of the tree trunk, creating a notch before starting the back cut. Logan waited until the tree felt unstable before giving the tree a gentle push in the right direction and removing his hands. The tree hit the ground with a thud.

Noelle took that as her cue to continue their conversation. “Don’t pretend to be all grumpy and stoic. I know you like some of our regulars.”

“Some being the key word here.” He replied, grabbing the tree trunk again and beginning to drag it to the truck. Noelle just gave him a look that clearly said I see right through you but didn’t comment as she looked for the next tagged tree.

Logan heaved the Christmas tree into the bed of the truck and shoved it into one corner; he could probably fit one more tree alongside it before he started stacking them. He stood up straight, turning his head to watch the sun rise and peek over the tops of the trees, bringing rays of light and warmth with it.

Leo basked in the warmth coming from the oven as he took out a fresh batch of croissants, a welcome reprieve from the weather outside. He quickly put the next tray of pastries into the oven and transferred the baked croissants onto a plate, where he let them cool just a little before drizzling them with honey. He hummed along to the Christmas music playing on the radio as he worked on getting the diner ready to open in a few hours. He started the gumbo, red beans and rice, and jambalaya, letting them simmer on the stove before whipping up his fried chicken batter and breading so that it was ready whenever he needed it. Next was the cornbread, which was made from scratch and poured into muffin tins to create the perfect individual servings. Coffee was brewed, quiches were placed in the display window, waffle batter was whipped up and sitting in a bowl on the counter.

Leo was arranging croissants into a basket when the back door opened, letting all the cold air in and a small flurry of snow with it.

“Good morning!” Nate called as he came around the corner, shedding his coat and hat. Leo honestly wasn’t sure what he’d do without Nate. Running his own diner was hard – it was even harder when he’d moved to a different country, not knowing anyone there, and kept afloat with barely anything but his optimism and his confidence in his cooking. Nate was the first person he’d hired when business actually picked up, and he’d been there ever since. He had a real knack for cooking and managed to make every person that walked through their doors feel welcomed.

“Headed out to the farm?” Nate asked when he saw the basket of croissants and the large thermos Leo was filling with coffee.

“Yeah.” Leo said, grabbing coffee creamer and sugar and shoving them into his coat pocket after he slipped it on. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Nah, I can hold down the fort while you’re gone.”

Leo smiled as he grabbed his hat. “Thanks. There’s croissants in the oven, but they’ll be done as soon as that timer goes off! I’ll be right back, ok?”

Nate gave him a look. “No you won’t.”

“No, I won’t.” Leo agreed with a laugh. “But I’ll be back before morning rush.” He said as he braced himself and opened the door to be greeted by the frigid Canadian winter.

Even after a year and a half, he had a feeling he’d never get used to this weather.

He made a beeline for his car, quickly getting behind the wheel and cranking the heat as high as it would go. He put the car in drive and slowly pulled out onto the road, keeping a firm grip on the wheel and his eyes on the road. He knew he was probably causing a traffic build-up behind him, which made Leo feel a little guilty. He’d driven through hurricanes countless times, but snow? Black ice? He was absolutely terrified of that. So he took his time, eventually turning off the main road and driving until he reached a sign with red lettering and a Christmas tree lot. There were handmade wreaths and garlands, and white Christmas lights strung up over the rows of trees for sale.

Leo put the car in park and grabbed his stuff, breath hitching as he faced the cold winds again. Marius, the head of the Tremblay family, was at the checkout counter, writing something down on a pad of paper. Once he looked up and saw Leo, he smiled broadly. “Hey, Nut!”

“Good morning.” Leo replied, raising the basket and thermos in his hands. “I come bearing gifts. Coffee and croissants.”

“You know you don’t have to do that.” Marius said as he gave Leo a stern look. “I’m sure you’ve got other things to do.”

Leo shrugged, opening the basket and offering them to the man. “I like doing this. Y’all work hard and have ridiculously long hours. And you work in this weather. I feel like you could use a little warmth.”

“You and your southern manners.” He grabbed a croissant anyways, taking a big bite. “Your favorite’s still out there bringing some trees in.” He said, motioning to one of the groves to the left. Leo could faintly hear the sound of a chainsaw in the distance.

“I don’t have favorites,” Leo protested as he set the thermos and croissants down on the table, even though it was clearly a bald-faced lie. He thought of evergreen eyes and a gorgeous laugh and a smile that left him breathless. He blamed the redness of his cheeks and ears on the cold. “I like all of you equally.”

“Right.” Marius said, dragging out the vowel. He was smiling, though. “He’s lucky to have a friend like you, you know.”

Leo had to force his smile to remain steadfast. Friend. That was all this was ever going to be, no matter how much his heart yearned for something more. He needed to learn to be content with that – it wasn’t fair to Logan otherwise, or to himself for that matter. He could be a good friend and leave it at that. It was still better than not knowing him at all.

“I think I’m the lucky one.” He said, only then remembering the sugar and coffee creamers in his coat pocket. He fished them out and set them on the counter next to the thermos. “I do have to get going, though. I’ve got the breakfast rush to deal with.”

Marius waved him off playfully, grabbing another croissant. “Go on, then. I’ll try to save some for the rest of them.”

Leo laughed at his antics, breath clouding in the air. “I’m holding you to that.”

Marius watched him get in his car and drive off very slowly with a chuckle. Damn southerners. He looked down at the coffee creamers and sugar, knowing Logan was the only one in the family that used them, and started speculating.

He heard the rumbling of the truck as it came in, the back loaded to the brim with trees. Noelle and Logan’s bickering could be heard before the truck’s engine got turned off, which was saying something. Marius grabbed a cup and filled it with coffee. He was going to need it.

“I mean, come on. Back to the Future is clearly the superior 80s movie. It’s definitely better than Top Gun.”

Logan closed his door, staring at his sister with a combination of horror and disbelief. “How dare you. Those aren’t even in the same genre!”

Noelle looked over at Marius right as she was about to start her counterargument and spotted the pastries and coffee. She grinned and abandoned Logan at the back of the truck in order to beat him to the food. One croissant was immediately shoved into her mouth as she grabbed another and then reached for a coffee cup one-handed. Marius snorted and grabbed it from her, filling it with steaming coffee.

She groaned. “Lolo, your friend needs to stop by more often. Fuck, this is good. If I wasn’t in a committed relationship already, I’d ask him to marry me.”

“Please don’t call me that.” Logan said gruffly, but his words were betrayed by a smile. He looked down at the pastries, eyes soft and smile dopy.

Marius knew that look. More importantly, he knew his son. And everything fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

“Maybe Logan should ask, instead.” He teased, although a part of him was completely genuine.

Logan choked on his first bite of croissant.

.

“Finn!” June shouted as soon as she flung the door open, throwing herself into his arms. Finn laughed and hugged her back. Two seconds into his visit and he knew this was going to be the best way to spend the week before Christmas. He hadn’t seen June since they graduated college and, even though they kept in touch, it wasn’t the same.

“Four years is way too long.” He said as she let go. “Let’s not go that long without seeing each other again, ok?”

“Deal.” She replied, grabbing his bag for him and leading the way inside. The apartment was warm and cozy and lived in – there were books on the coffee table and a large pile of mail on the counter and a few stray dishes in the sink.

Finn loved it.

Heather, June’s fiancée, smiled in greeting and stuck her hand out to shake. “You must be Finn.”

He had originally thought it might be a little bit awkward, meeting his ex-girlfriend’s fiancée, but Heather seemed kind and welcoming and unperturbed about the whole thing. He shook her hand and returned the smile. “Heather. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh god.” She laughed, shooting June a look. June just winked and leaned over to check whatever food was in the oven.

“All good things.” Finn promised, letting Heather lead him to the guest room. It was as happy and welcoming as the rest of the apartment. As soon as they were out of earshot, he continued, “I’m really happy for you guys. She’s happier than I've ever seen her.”

“So am I.” Heather said wistfully as Finn set his bag down. “Bathroom’s through that door if you need it.”

“Thanks.”

When he rejoined the group in the living room, he noticed something: a distinct lack of Christmas decorations. June used to love decorating her college dorm room for the holidays – she went all out with little things she bought at the Dollar Tree and a miniature Christmas tree from Walmart. They used to get the tree together every year. It was strange that she hadn’t continued the tradition.

“No tree?” He asked June, surprised. She shrugged and scooted over on the couch to make room for all three of them.

“Haven’t had the time. I’ve been so busy at work and Heather’s been traveling for conferences. It’s not the same when you have to decorate by yourself.”

Finn hummed understandingly. He knew the feeling. “Why don’t we go get one now? Do you think some places are still open this late?”

Heather and June looked at each other, seeming to have a telepathic conversation. Finn watched on in amusement as they communicated with raised eyebrows and narrowed eyes and shrugs until they apparently made up their minds.

“Tremblay’s is probably still open. They’ve got the best trees, anyways.” June explained, turning to look at Finn. “But I’ve got to stay here and make sure our dinner doesn’t burn.”

“And I’ve got to stay here and supervise June while she uses the oven.” Heather added. Finn laughed, remembering too many times June had burned herself while using the rickety old oven from the 1970s that still lived on in their dorm building.

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Finn teased and ruffled June’s hair. She just rolled her eyes and didn’t even bother trying to smooth it out again. Ruffling hair was one of Finn’s main ways of showing affection – she knew it would just get messed up again. Finn fished his phone out of his pocket and pulled up his navigation app. “I can go get the tree, if you want. You said the place was called Tremblay’s?”

“Finn, you really don’t have to-”

“No, I want to!” He cut in, standing up from the couch to grab his coat. “I didn’t bring presents for you guys because I’m so bad at gift-giving, so this can be my Christmas present.”

Heather hesitated. “Are you sure you don’t mind?” She asked, glancing at June again. “We can always go out and get a tree tomorrow.”

“It’s fine. I’ll be back soon, and with a tree!” Finn said as he reached the door, turned to give a cheery salute, and headed out to his car.

After a frankly terrifying drive through narrow back roads and potential ice hazards, Finn followed his app to a little tree farm off of the main road. There weren’t many cars there, thankfully, and it still looked open. The rows of white lights hanging above the trees were all lit and glowing, snow was falling at a slow, sleepy pace. It looked perfect, like something out of a dream.

And that was before Finn saw him.

The man working the front counter.

Finn raked his gaze over the man and swooned. Wavy brown hair, bright eyes, shoulders and arms so broad and built that it seemed like they were about to rip the plaid shirt he was wearing. With a nametag that stated Logan, he seemed like a rugged, Canadian, lumberjack dreamboat. Finn swallowed, making his way to the counter and the absolute vision behind it while he focused on not tripping over his own two feet.

“Hi,” Finn managed, trying not to get lost in evergreen eyes. “I’d like to buy a tree, please.”

“What type of tree would you like?”

Oh, the accent.

Finn was screwed.

“Uh…” Finn trailed off, looking at Logan and struggling to find words. “A Christmas tree?”

“Spruce, pine, or fir?” When Finn’s expression turned more confused, Logan smiled in exasperated, awed delight. Who drove all this way for a tree and had no clue what they were looking for? Most people at least had some idea. But not this one, apparently. Those big, Bambi eyes were lost and absolutely adorable.

“Do you have a size you’re looking for?” Logan asked, receiving a more perplexed look.

This was too funny. “Do you know anything about what kind of tree you want?”

“A pretty one? But not too expensive. Or too tall. Or heavy – I’ve got to get it up a huge flight of stairs.”

Logan couldn’t hold back the laughter any longer. He leaned forwards against the counter and laughed, eyes squeezing shut and shoulders shaking. Finn watched with a smile of his own, taking in the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and the contagious nature of his laugh. He felt like this – this right here – was the only thing he wanted to do for the next several hours, especially if he was the reason for the laughter. He thought of that song he could never remember the name of but heard a lot on Tiktok that said, “oh no, I think I’m catching feelings” and never related to a song more in his entire life.

“Ok,” Logan said when he’d finally caught his breath. “Ok, I’m going to pick one out for you, how’s that sound…?”

“Finn.” The redhead supplied with a laugh of his own. “And please. I have no clue what I’m doing.”

“Clearly.” Logan stepped around the counter and led him towards a group of trees. “These are Douglas Firs. They last a long time, smell great, and they don’t take a lot of trimming or maintenance. They’re also pretty cheap since they’re so common.”

Finn looked from the trees to another group of trees a little ways off. “They all look the same.”

“Who’s the expert here?” Logan teased, shooting him a look over his shoulder as he walked from one tree to the next. Finn trailed after him eagerly, watching calloused, muscular hands trail along the needles of the trees.

“We can go look at the Fraser Firs, if you want, but I really think one of these is your best bet.” Logan continued, stopping in front of a mid-sized tree. “How about this one?”

Finn looked at it, then back at Logan. “What do you think? Since I clearly don’t know anything about trees.” That drew another smile from Logan, which made Finn vow to himself to make the brunet smile like that again.

Logan dragged the tree out from the rest of the group and looked it over. “I think it’s a good one. Good shape, healthy. I sure know how to pick ‘em, eh?”

Eh. How adorably Canadian.

“Sounds good. It’s not even for me, so my input doesn’t really matter a whole lot.”

Logan sent him a confused look. “So you went out at nine o’clock at night to get a Christmas tree, and it’s not for you?”

“I don’t even live in this country.”

“What?”

“I’m visiting friends that live here, and they’ve been traveling or too busy to decorate like they normally do, so I decided I’d get the ball rolling and find them a Christmas tree.” Finn shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Not only was he stunning, he was thoughtful to boot.

Logan clearly had a type.

“That’s nice of you.” He removed the tree from its stand and started lugging it to the counter, watching the redhead trail behind him yet again out of the corner of his eye. When he reached his destination, he set the tree down and found Finn staring at him with a look of awe on his face. He bit back a smile. “How long are you staying?”

Finn was silent for a second, as if in a trance, then snapped out of it with a little shake of his head. “Huh?”

That smile he was holding back broke through. “How long are you staying in town?”

“Oh. Just for the week, then I’m off to spend Christmas with my family back home in New York.”

“A New Yorker, huh?” Logan asked as he bagged the tree up, attempting to do the accent and making Finn laugh. “This must be quite the change of pace for you.”

“You have no idea.”

Finn’s stomach growled, making his eyes widen and his cheeks burn in embarrassment. It must’ve been loud enough for Logan to hear because he turned back around to face Finn and quirked an eyebrow. “Hungry?” He asked, then told Finn the price of the tree. Finn handed his card over.

“Yeah. Haven’t had dinner yet.”

“I, uh, I know a place.” Logan said, playing with Finn’s credit card before meeting his eyes and quickly adding, “If you’re interested. I haven’t had dinner either.”

Finn grinned, not even trying to hide his excitement. The only thing he’d wanted when he left June and Heather’s apartment was a tree. Now he had a potential date with this gorgeous, witty guy? Yes please. “Yeah?”

Logan shared his smile, leaning forward against the counter and looking up at him through dark, dark eyelashes. Finn’s heart fluttered. “Yeah. Sounds fun to me.”

“Great.” Finn said, unsure of what else to say and suddenly feeling a little awkward. Was he supposed to wait for him to finish his shift? Were they driving together? Where was this restaurant?

He needed to text June.

Shit. She had been making dinner when he left. But he’d already agreed to dinner with Logan. But it would be so rude to not spend time with his hosts. But he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn’t go on this date.

He pulled out his phone as Logan ran his card through the system to text June.

To June: Sooooo there might be a change of plans. Some hot guy is my acting tour guide for the night and I won’t be making it home for dinner. But I promise I have a tree and I will be back eventually.

It only took June a few seconds to respond.

From June: Damn. You go, Finn.

He laughed under his breath, then pocketed his phone. When he looked up, Logan was looking at him and holding his card out. Finn grabbed it and shoved it into his wallet, which he pocketed. “Ready to go?” Logan asked, grabbing the trunk of the tree and preparing to drag it again. “I can drive, if you want. We’ll strap the tree to the top of your car and then head out.”

“Works for me. Do you need help with that?” Finn motioned to the tree. Not that he minded the view – quite the contrary – but he felt bad not doing anything.

“Want to grab the netting towards the top? We can carry it instead of dragging it.”

Finn grabbed the netting and followed Logan’s lead as they both lifted the tree and started carrying it out to Finn’s car, Finn giving directions as they went. Getting the tree to the top of the rental car was a struggle, but they managed and strapped it down.

They hurried to Logan’s car and shut out the cold as quickly as they could. Logan started the rickety old pickup truck that smelled strongly of Christmas trees and took off down the road at a much faster pace than Finn would ever dare to drive these roads.

“I have a feeling you’re going to love this place.” Logan said as he turned right onto the main road, accelerating a bit more. “Pretty much everyone does. It’s not very Canadian, but you can’t beat the food.”

“What defines a restaurant as Canadian?” Finn mused, looking over at the driver. “Maple syrup? Poutine?”

“Watch it.” There was no heat in Logan’s voice, so Finn didn’t take it to heart. They slowed down and pulled into a parking lot of a diner simply called Leo’s. The outside looked a little rundown, which made Finn a little apprehensive, but the windows were all fogged up from the temperature difference between inside and outside, which was always promising.

Logan turned the car off and shot Finn an excited grin. “Ready?”

Finn couldn’t tell if he was excited for dinner with him or just the food. Hopefully it was both.

The inside of the diner was… eclectic. The walls were a faint yellow, but there were splashes of deep purple, green, and gold in the decorations on the walls. Mardis Gras, Finn realized as he spotted some masks hanging on the wall. The food smelled amazing – warm and spicy and savory. Behind the baked goods on display counter stood a young kid with a cleaning spray and a rag, wiping down the counters. He looked up at the bell that signaled the door opening and instantly recognized Logan. He sent them a smile before turning his head and shouting towards the direction of the kitchen, “Leo!”

There was a loud clang, followed by a muffled curse. “Be there in a jiffy!”

Finn looked to Logan in confusion. “Was that a southern accent? Like American south?”

“Leo.” Was all Logan said, a happy smile on his face.

“You guys can go ahead and sit down,” The kid at the counter said. “I’ll bring some menus.”

“Thanks, Nate.” Logan led the way towards a booth in the front corner of the dining area and sat down facing the door. Finn sat opposite him, accepting a menu with thanks. The menu consisted of southern U.S. staples – biscuits and gravy, grits, red beans and rice, fried chicken, etouffee, jambalaya, po’boys, fried catfish, cornbread, the list went on.

“So is this guy from Louisiana?”

Logan wasn’t even looking at the menu, he was watching every nuance of Finn’s expressions as he took everything in. “New Orleans, born and raised.”

“How the hell did he end up here?”

“He had an uncle who owned this place and left it to Leo when he died. Originally he was just going to fix it up and sell it before going back home, but two months led to a year and he’s still here. Doesn’t seem to be planning on going anywhere else for a while, either.” Logan suddenly perked up, looking at something over Finn’s shoulder. “Here he comes.”

Finn swiveled in his seat and stopped dead in his tracks.

Tall.

They were both greeted by a dimpled smile as Leo approached their table, flour or powdered sugar – Finn wasn’t sure which one – all over his apron and a dusting of it in his fluffy blond hair.

“Hey, Logan. See you’ve brought company!” His accent dragged sweet and slow like molasses, so very out of place this far north. But it was refreshing, like a breath of fresh air or the sun coming out from behind the clouds after a week of rain. As he got closer, Finn realized what he’d thought to be flour in his hair was actually a gray streak. And wow, were his eyes blue.

How was everyone here so attractive?

“Finn, meet Leo. Leo, this is Finn.” Logan said, smile never leaving his face as he looked between the two. “He’s new here.”

Leo arched an eyebrow. “And you brought him here?”

“You do have the best pie in town.”

That got another sunny smile from Leo. “Damn right I do. But dinner first. Can’t go on spoilin’ your dinner with pie.” Those blue eyes turned to Finn, causing his breath to hitch just a little. “What’ll you have, sugar?”

Finn simply wasn’t going to survive this night. Was this a dream? That would explain all the attractive guys – the probabilities of something like this happening in real life were slim to none. He pinched his arm harshly. Not a dream.

What the fuck?

Finn realized he still hadn’t answered and was just staring at the blond. He cleared his throat and quickly averted his gaze to the menu, not really reading anything but grateful for something else to look at besides the two guys in front of him. “Um… what would you recommend?” He finally asked, grateful that he could get his vocal cords to actually work.

Leo hummed, thinking about it. “Personally I really like the muffuletta, if you’re looking for a sandwich. Definitely the gumbo if you’re in the mood for soup. I do make a mean fried catfish, too.”

Finn wasn’t sure what exactly a muffuletta was, but he ordered it. Logan got his usual, whatever that meant. Leo wrote down their orders and gave them one last smile before retreating to the kitchen. They both watched him go, then Finn whipped back around to face Logan.

“Is he real?”

Logan just laughed, leaning back in his seat. Finn panicked for half a second, terrified that what he’d said was the worst possible thought to voice on what was potentially a first date. But Logan didn’t seem to mind. He just looked back at the kitchen with a soft smile Finn hadn’t seen before.

“You know, I ask myself that a lot.” He said quietly, as if he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. And Finn finally understood.

He was in love with Leo.

The sound of a record scratching filled Finn’s head.

Wait.

That didn’t make any sense… because Finn was ninety-five percent sure that Logan had been flirting with him all night.

Hadn’t he?

They made small talk while they waited for their food, and Logan was pleasantly surprised at how… easy it was. He normally didn’t like small talk and didn’t share personal stories with strangers, but here Finn was, pulling stories out of him that he normally wouldn’t share on a first date.

Was this a date? Logan couldn’t decide if he wanted it to be one or not. One hand, this was definitely the most fun he’d had in weeks. On the other hand, Leo. He sent a glance towards the kitchen window before focusing back on Finn’s story about one of the parties he and June went to back in college. There was lots of alcohol, mattresses, and a roof involved. Finn’s storytelling included a myriad of different expressions, all of which Logan found endearing. The wrinkle of his nose when he talked about drunk frat boy antics, the way he got all soft whenever he talked about June, the laughter lines around his eyes when he told a funny anecdote.

How was it possible to be so cute and yet so hot at the same time?

And how had he met two guys who fit into both of those categories?

Nate brought their food out while Logan was in the middle of a story about the time he’d found a squirrel in one of their trees and got attacked when he tried to relocate the thing when Nate came back with the food. Finn had the muffuletta, which was apparently meat and cheese and some sort of olive spread or something – Finn had no idea, but it looked and smelled amazing. Logan had a bowl of red beans and rice in front of him, but he was waiting to see Finn’s reaction to the food before starting his own.

Finn took a bite of the sandwich, then his eyes widened almost comically. “Oh my god.”

“I know.” Logan said, getting a spoonful of red beans and rice.

“Where has this been all my life?”

“Just wait until you try the pie.”

Finn didn’t speak again, he just ate. The food clearly took precedence over any possible conversations. Logan couldn’t help but agree. Finn ate like a man who hadn’t seen food in a week, finishing the sandwich in record time. He leaned back in his seat when he was done, letting out a happy, content sigh. “Holy shit. Is everything on the menu that good?”

“Pretty much.”

“And he hasn’t been on the Food Network yet?”

Logan grinned. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“We should tell them to get up here and try this food.”

“Y’all, I don’t have time for the Food Network.” Finn jumped a little as Leo reappeared with two slices of pie. “I appreciate it, though. You liked it, huh?”

Finn looked up at him. “I kind of want to come back every day I’m here.” And he meant it. He wouldn’t be coming back just for the food, though.

“Well, I definitely won’t stop you.” Leo said with a dimpled smile. Finn barely held in a dreamy sigh.

Dimples.

“Why don’t you join us?” Finn asked, scooting over to make room for the blond. But Leo just shook his head with a rueful smile.

“I wish I could, but I’ve got twelve pies that need to be made.”

“Twelve?” Finn asked in mild horror. “When do you sleep?”

“The chocolate crème pies are in high demand, especially around the holidays. But it’s fine, I don’t mind it. I’m just glad I've got business.” Leo seemed to be ignoring the sleep question, which was never a good sign.

“You look tired.” Logan noted, face muddled with concern.

Leo laughed softly, but didn’t seem to take offense. “Thanks a lot, darlin’.”

Logan broke eye contact and pushed the residual whipped cream around on his plate. Finn hadn’t even realized he’d started eating, but he quickly followed suit and fuck, was that good.

“I just meant you need to take care of yourself, that’s all.” Logan mumbled into his plate without looking up, almost as if he was afraid to see the cook’s response.

“Says the guy who works even longer hours than I do.” Leo teased, causing Logan to roll his eyes.

“That’s because it’s almost Christmas and I work at a Christmas tree farm. It’s only temporary. We’ll be back to normal by the end of the week.”

“Well, good. You deserve to sleep in for once.” Leo said, taking a step back towards the kitchen. “But I really do have to go. Those pies won’t make themselves.”

“Do you want help?” Finn asked hopefully, He honestly couldn’t think of a better way to spend the night than baking with these two. Being given instructions in a thick southern drawl, helping Logan make pie filling, trading stories (and maybe kisses) while they waited for the pies to be done.

But Leo quickly dashed his dreams. “That’s sweet, honey, but I think I’ll be faster on my own. I’ve got a system that makes it pretty efficient. And I don’t give out my recipes to just anyone, you know.”

Oh, but I’d love to be someone to you.

Logan also looked disappointed. “We should get going, then. Don’t want to keep distracting you.”

“At least you’re a welcome distraction.” Leo said with a wink before he turned and disappeared into the kitchen. He let the door close behind him before backing up to lean against it, tilting his head back to rest against the wood and closing his eyes. The happy façade dropped in an instant.

Because Logan was out there, on a date with a guy. A handsome, kind, funny guy who would have absolutely no trouble sweeping Logan off his feet.

And that guy wasn’t Leo.

.

Finn flopped dramatically onto the couch back at June’s apartment, muffling a scream into a poor, unsuspecting pillow. June looked up from her book with a laugh. “Well hello to you, too.”

“I’m in love.”

“Oh?” Heather asked from her spot cuddled up next to June.

Finn turned his head sideways to open one eye and look at the two of them. “With a lumberjack and a cook.”

“Ah,” June said knowingly as she dog-eared the page she was on and closed the book. “Beware the lumberjacks. They’re known to be irresistible. Alright then, which Tremblay was it?”

Finn cocked his head. “What?”

Heather smiled as June tilted her head back and let her run her fingers through dark brown curls. They were so cute it was almost sickening. “There’s four of them: three sisters and a brother. Which one did you fall for?”

Finn couldn’t have held back the smile that crossed his face even if he tried. “Logan.”

June groaned. “I get it. Holy shit, those eyes.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t know he cooked, though.”

“No, the cook was another guy.” Finn sighed as he twisted to lay on his back and stare wistfully up at the ceiling. “Leo.”

“The southern one with the diner?”

“That’s the one.”

“Damn, O’Hara. You do know-”

“They’re head-over-heels in love with each other? Yeah, I got that.” Finn stretched his legs out to rest on June’s lap. “But I’m also pretty sure that was a date. And that Logan was flirting with me.” He sighed again, covering his eyes with his arm. “I’m doomed.”

“Always so dramatic.” June teased. “Just date both of them.”

Finn froze, his mind going completely blank. “What?”

“Date both of them.” She repeated, unfazed. “Polyamorous relationships are a thing, you know. Who says you can’t date both of them?”

Finn moved his arm away from his face to stare at her. “Huh.” He finally said, mind kicking back into gear. That sounded… perfect, actually. Only a few hitches. Did Leo even like him? They’d barely talked to each other. Finn could see Logan being ok with the whole dating two people thing, seeing that he was flirting with both of them, but what would Leo think? And the other hitch. “I’m only for a week, though.”

“Then you’d better act fast, lover boy.”

“I’ve got a question.” Heather piped up.

Finn looked at her and raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to ask her question.

“Where’s the tree?”

He could probably see it from their front window if he bothered to stand up, still strapped to his rental car. “Shit.”

[frostfireft]

I would love to hear more about Southern Freed and British Laxus. Please, I beg of you, tell me more

Of course! this is combining the AU we made and bits of canon stuff so that it could be used in either context!

Freed:

-Freed has South Eastern southern accent because he grew up moving around the little area where Georgia, Tennessee, and North Carolina meet. (or in canon, whatever the closest equivalent may be. I honestly don’t know)

-He also talks really fucking fast, especially when he’s excited. This causes a lot of his words to turn themselves into weird contractions that can be hard to parse through if you don’t have experience with it. (Contrary to what you might think, if someone has a southern drawl, it doesn’t necessarily mean they speak slowly. It just means they elongate certain vowels and diphthongs sounds or even just the most prominent syllable of the word. (like how “going to” becomes “gonna” but is pronounces like “gun-na” with heavy stress on the first syllable) )

-example for the last one: y’ain’t gonna’lieve thi’shit (you are not going to believe this shit) 

-He has the ability, if he’s not sleep deprived, to completely neutralize his accent. He learned how to do this explicitly because people stereotype southerners as stupid, and he enjoys seeing people’s reactions when he gets done presenting his theses or linguistic findings. He’s using their reactions to them finding out he’s southern and has a deep accent to write another theses about why judging people by their first appearance or based on stereotypes is a terrible thing to do. 

-When he really sleep deprived his words slur so bad that his own momma wouldn’t be able to understand him. 

-He’s written a few books, but no English major would be surprised to learn he’s southern. This is because no matter how well you nuetralize an accent, the tendedency to use certain colloquialisms is usually very present in any author’s style. (examples: Bless your heart, I reckon, pot-kettle, fisticuffs, doohicky, hissy fit, fixin’, Sir/Ma’am, calling a shopping cart a “buggy”)

-has used southern colloquialisms in his runes. This is part of what makes them so hard to fight and decypher. No one fucking understand them on top of them being hard to change regardless.

-He has some of the best insults, be it the super southern ones(“Well that’s about as useful as a screen door on a submarine.” and “She’s a few green beans short of a casserole, but that’s all right”) or just straight up sassy ones (”you’re why the gene pool needs a life guard” and “the bar was low but you brought a shovel”)

-Definitely called Laxus “highfalutin” before they became friends. (pronounced high-fo-loo-tin, means that someone is uppity and thinks their hot shit when they’re not)

-Drinks sweet tea with so much sugar that it’s damn near molasses, but hot tea with very little. 

-Would punch a cop without hesitation, ducktape and wd40 can fix 90% of problems. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” “if it’s stupid and it works, then it ain’t stupid,” definitely knows how to make and/or owns illegal fireworks, definitely went to a horse camp as a kid and can ride. 

Laxus:

-Grew up in Westminster and has an RP/Queen’s English accent(b-are-th pronounciation. this is the accent that’s  most often mimicked by people and used in movies. once again, in canon he’d have grown up in whatever the most canon equivilent is. probably Crocus, and then he moves in with Makarov after Ivan(fucking cunt) gets arrested)

- He speaks so properly and it’s a drastic contrast to the way he looks.

-and by that I mean. This man has no fashion sense. None. This is because he doesn’t want to be seen as posh, and he decided that dressing like a blind man who ran through a thift store is the way to do it. 

-Tried so hard to get rid of his accent. So. fucking. hard. He hates it because it reminds him of his dad. 

-Insults people while trying to be “nice.” He doesn’t really realize he’s doing it until after he meets Freed and sees the way he intentionally insults assholes while being “kind.” He did not understand why everyone hated him until then. 

-Would punch any other person who sounds and acts posh without hesitation. Makarov is proud of him. 

-Used to drink a shocking about of black and milk tea, but Freed got him to try a bunch of other kinds. He still won’t touch the sweet tea though. 

-His words tend to drip with sarcasm. Most people just think he’s being an asshole, but the few who understand his humor get the biggest kick out of it (Makarov, Freed, Evergreen, Bickslow, and then a few other’s later in life) 

-Would also punch a cop without hesitation. 

-he can’t handle spicy food. Like at all. He feels like he’s dying one bite into anything with crushed red pepper in it. Not that he’ll let anyone know that. 

- Absolutely loves the rain, and not just because of his magic. It makes him remember what little of his childhood was actually nice and plesant. 

-he sunburns really easy because it wasn’t sunny very often where he grew up for the first 12 years of his life. He peels really bad as it heals too. 

Fraxus:

-the first time Laxus spoke to Freed while he was sleep deprived, he had no fucking idea what he was saying. Not a fucking clue. Freed tried four seperate times to seperate his words before just giving up. 

-They argue about what the proper word for something is all the time. All. The. Time. (fries vs chips, cart vs buggy, cookie vs bisciut. 

-Laxus once watched Freed mentally die inside when a waiter offered him sugar packets because there wasn’t actual sweet tea. 

-There aren’t many dishes that they’ll agree on. Especially if they’re arguing about who will do the cooking. 

-Freed has absolutely made the food “too spicy” just to get Laxus back for dumb things. watching his partner die inside from something that barely tingles will never cease to amuse him. 

-They eventually get to a point where parts of their vocabulary make it into the other’s, and soon they have theis weird mix-matched dialect that confuses the shit out of other people. 

-They use their hellish combination of sarcasm and insults disguised as compliments to subtly insult and cuss out homophobes, concervatives, TERFS, and basically any piece of shit they come across. 

-They also argue over whether or not to fix something or buy a new one when it breaks

Laxus: Are you sure it’s safe to fix that with duct tape? 

Freed: Duck tape is insulated enough for this-

Laxus: no it isn’t. It will catch fire if it gets hot enough.

Freed: Toaster’s worked fine with duck tape holdin’ the wire for the past decade. 

Laxus: You fixed the toaster with duct tape?

Freed: It worked, dinit?

-He doesn’t mention that he also added runes to it too explicitly because it’s funny. 

-There’s a lot of stuff like this: “You dumb mother fucker, how did I fall for you?” “Because you tripped.” 

-If you insult one of them, you better believe the other will roast you so thuroughly that a bonfire wouldn’t compare all while the one of them you insulted kicks your ass into the stratsophere. 

-They both have so much respect for each other. So. Much. Respect. They’re completely honest when alone, no sarcasm, no half insults, just them. 

- Even when not alone, they fully trust each other. There’s no one else they trust to have their back the same way, even if Ever and Bicks are close seconds. No one can pick apart their mind and thought process the same way, and it comes from the fact that they argued so much before they were in sync with each other. 

-Once they get to the point of being in sync with one another (let’s be real, it propbably only takes like a year) nothing can get in their way. 

-Freed’s captain of the Raijinshuu for a reason goddamn it, and it’s not just because he and Laxus are together. It’s because he’s strong as fuck, should have been fucking S class, and he’s one of the only people who can talk sense into Laxus. 

-is the last bit partially because they’re together? Yeah probably, but Freed and Laxus are equals damn it. He could at the very least, tie a fight with Laxus. 

[oloreaa]

Daisy Chains

Pairing: Din Djarin/f!Reader

Summary: You fall in love with Din in the summer before he swears his creed.

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: slightly nsfw, non descriptive sex, yes I used those gifs of young Pedro to fuel this, so expect shaggy haired puppy eyed Din who is cocky af

Notes: I wrote this in a span of 5h because my brain could not stop working, also I took some liberties with canon: Mandalorian's come of age when they're 21 in this fic, due to the severity of the creed/ the restrictions that come with it. So Reader is about 19/20 while Din is 20 :) [edit: title and one line are inspired by Lana del Rey's "Summer Bummer"]

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The first time you saw him, he was wearing a scowl, staring after the Mandalorian warrior who had given him a slap on the back of the head.

You could not help your giggle, turning away so you could laugh at the grumpy expression on his face. When you looked back, though, his gaze was on you.

Immediately straightening, you sent him the most innocent smile you could muster.

He raised an eyebrow at you, and made his way over to your stall that was filled with flowers in both pots and buckets, ready to be arranged in various possibilities.

"You see something funny?" he asked, shaking the slightly shaggy hair out of his face. Your eyes widened as you took him in, and you felt your face become hot as you realised that he was handsome as hell.

Dark brown hair that was a tad too long, a sharp face with high cheekbones, a jawline to die for, dark eyes you could lose yourself in. Not to mention his voice, like honey wrapped around every vowel and consonant, pleasant to listen to and you would do anything to keep him talking.

"No, sir," you said, and they were the only words you could manage, "nothing funny at all."

The corner of his mouth quirked up, and you could not help but be charmed by those looks, the instant way he had drawn you in, the sharp glint in his eyes.

"Is that so, flower girl?"

You felt your heart flutter in your chest, and bit your lip playfully, suddenly feeling very bold. "Yes," you breathed, tilting your face up playfully.

He scoffed slightly, and put his hands on his hips, resting his weight on one leg. You could place him as maybe one year older than you, two if you had to squint.

"Girls like you should know when to keep their eyes away," he said. 

You leaned against the counter, smiling brightly, overwhelmed by the urge to get to know him better.

"The way I see it, I was just observing a spectacle."

"Uh huh?"

"What are you doing with the Mandalorians, anyways?" You asked, looking at him. Wearing something that approximated armour, a durasteel plate on his torso and some thigh plates, and a vambrace, he seemed better armed than most of the visitors of the market here.

"I'm one of them," he answered, puffing his chest out, raising his chin.

"You're not wearing a helmet," you observed, and you could not help the coy smile that crept onto your face.

"I'll swear the creed soon," he said, clenching his jaw and revealing a twitch in his cheek that almost made you swoon.

"Oh dear, that's a shame," you said, plucking a daisy from the flower pot you were selling.

"Why?" His face was set into a frown, brows pulled together, and it was honestly unfair that he was so good looking even while doing that.

"Face like yours, under a helmet? A damn shame."

His eyes widened, and he stared at you, and with delight you could see his cheeks darkening some. He opened his mouth several times as if wanting to say something, but nothing came out.

You reached over the counter, and gave him the daisy, which he accepted without taking his eyes off you.

"If you care for dancing, come and find me," you invited, and with a shy smile, you told him your name. 

When he repeated it, dark eyes locked onto yours intensely, you swore you just melted a bit.

~

You did not see him for the next week, which was fine. To be honest with yourself, you did not even expect for him to remember you. The way you saw it, it was just a small interaction with a cute guy, some butterflies in your belly and a crush to think back on in the middle of the night. It did not matter that he probably forgot you.

If you gave yourself enough time, you might have completely forgotten him, too.

But apparently, the universe had other ideas.

"Flower girl," someone called from behind, "Do you need help?"

You looked up from the ground, teeth gritted together in effort from the heavy bag of soil you were carrying. When you caught sight of him, your face lit up.

"Not-A-Mandalorian-Yet!" You called out, putting the bag onto the ground as gently as you could, already moving onto giving him a hug. "Hey, how are you?"

He looked at you, startled, and with a hot face you realised you had automatically tried to embrace him like you often did.

"I'm good," he said stiffly, and you gave an embarrassed smile, stomach doing somersaults.

"Oh, Maker, I'm sorry I assumed," you started to say, hands raised to your mouth, "I do that with my friends, I'm so sorry."

He furrowed his brows and gave an equally embarrassed smile back.

"It's fine," he said, "I don't mind."

Yet clearly he did.

You stepped back from him, and bit your bottom lip nervously. "I think I'll get going," you said, fidgeting like an absolute moron and cursing yourself.

He jerked into motion.

"No, I'll- Let me help you with the bag," he said, and if you had not been too occupied with how hot your face felt at the moment, you might have noticed how he was blushing as well.

"That's nice of you," you managed to say, and barely resisted a giggle in both embarrassment and delight when he picked the bag up with no difficulty, putting it smoothly under one arm, before turning towards you and giving you a slightly crooked smile. "Where to?"

You blinked at him, a big smile on your face. "Thank you," you told him, and started into motion. He easily kept up, but did not initiate conversation like you expected.

If he won't talk, I will, you thought, and squared your shoulders in a mini pep boost.

"So, Not-A-Mandalorian-Yet," your mouth chose to say, and you inwardly started to cringe at yourself, "Do you have a name that I can call you by?"

He hesitated, and looked away while you walked, and your heart sank a bit.

"Oh, no- no, it's fine if you don't want to tell me, you don't have to-"

"It's Din," he said, "I haven't sworn the creed yet, so you can know my name."

You beamed at him, and he shyly returned your smile, his dark eyes intense and burning into you.

~

The third time you saw Din, he was on a supply run, walking past your stall with a hovering craft filled with crates. Him and three other young armoured humanoids, fellow Mandalorians, if you had to guess, were walking alongside with it. When his gaze met yours, you held up a small bundle of daisy blooms that was in your hand already, and shot him a smile. You were surprised when he smiled back, sending it alongside with a fluttery wink that made your heart skip a beat.

~

It became a game. 

Everytime he came to your stand, you instantly perked up, heart beating fast in your chest, a broad smile already greeting him.

Whenever you passed each other, you smiled, fleetingly touched each other, found excuses to look into the other's eyes.

He started to greet you with "sarad", and while you were pretty sure that he was calling you something like annoying or cheeky, the gentle tone he used and the tender way he would smile at you let you know that this attraction was not as one-sided as you tried to tell yourselves sometimes.

And you were pretty sure that Mandalorians do not need to buy flowers as often as Din did.

"What does sarad mean?" you asked him once while you finished up a bouquet for another client.

He was quiet, looking at you for a long time, before: "Sarad means flower."

You stared at him, and he visibly blushed even if the rest of his face did not change.

"I like it," you said, a shy smile on your face, "Please don't stop calling me that, all right?"

He smiled brightly at you, his entire face lighting up, and you were pretty sure that if you had not been smitten before, you would have definitely fallen for him in that second.

"Okay," he said.

~

"Do you want to go dancing?" You asked him when you saw him again, this time alone, "It's the weekend soon and my friends often meet somewhere to dance."

He huffed, leaning against the stall, cutting an attractive figure against the bright light of the marketplace. It was a slow day, barely anyone coming to visit in the heat of the midday sun. 

"Do I look like I dance?" Din asked, giving you a wry look. 

You bit your lip, feeling your cheeks heat up. 

"I could teach you," you offered, in a breathier tone than you would have liked. He looked at you, and you could have sworn that his eyes dropped to your lips for a fraction of a second, which made you even bolder, "We could dance alone at first."

He stared at you, jaw slightly ticking.

"I might have to take you up on that," he said, and oh, when did his voice become so deep?

"When do you want to?"

His eyes dropped to your lips again, this time for a longer moment, and when he said "Now," in that sinful voice of his, you knew that he was not talking about dancing at all.

Risking a look around, seeing the marketplace basically abandoned, most of the other vendors having taken a break, you decided that you could have a bit of fun.

"There is a bag of soil in the back, and I might need you to lift it for me," you told him, shooting Din a coy smile that became a full beam when he nodded, a smirk tugging at his lips as well, delightful dimples showing as his eyes crinkled in amusement. 

He followed you without a word, and before you knew it, you were out of sight of everyone else.

"Can I-" you started to say, wanting to ask for his permission first when you turned around and looked at him, but he sneaked a hand behind your head, tilted your face towards him and gave you a chaste kiss on the lips.

You looked at him in surprise, mouth open, flush threatening to burn you alive.

"I'm sorry," he started to say, blushing furiously, "I've not kissed many people before, was it-" 

Before he could say anything else, you had both of your hands cradling his face, tugging him closer to your body.

"That's all right," you said before kissing him again, this time opening your mouth and tasting him properly, feeling him reciprocate clumsily but with enthusiasm. Your lips parted with a quiet smack, and you stared into his face. His eyes were hooded and fixed onto you like he was a hunter and you were prey, a blush high on his cheeks, his lips slightly pinker than before.

"I'll teach you," you whispered, before kissing him again, tugging him even closer.

~ 

After that, his visits became more frequent.

~

"My alor'ad does not approve of this," Din said to you after a few more times you crossed each other's paths.

You had shown him the meadow you often went to, reading there most of the time, a small place not many people would find. The both of you were sitting in the tall grass, your fingers working on making a flower crown for Din. He did not know it was for him, yet, and he was holding his face into the sun, eyes closed as he soaked in the warmth of the summer.

You hummed, and linked your fingers into his, giving him a cheeky smile.

"My mother would not approve as well," you told him, using a long piece of grass to tie off the crown, "Always says something about finding a husband first. Would probably marry me off to the first Imperial officer she could find, to keep me out of trouble."

He opened one eye, looking at you with a smirk.

"You? A trophy wife for some cog head?"

"I would make an amazing trophy wife, thank you very much."

The young man turned onto his side, propping his head up with his hand, giving you a cocky grin.

"That you would," he said, gaze trailing along your figure, and you felt desire building in you at the heat in his eyes.

"Here, for you," you said to diffuse the tension crackling between the both of you, and presented him the wildflower crown.

Din stared at you in bewilderment, and you could not help your laugh at the offended look in his eyes.

"I'm not wearing that," he said, with a small scowl. You walked on your knees towards him, a smile threatening to split your face, and crowned him.

"I declare you king of the meadow," you said as dramatically as possible, before dissolving in a fit of giggles. You could see that he was still embarrassed, but he was grinning as well.

"I'm training to become a Mandalorian," he told you, face becoming very serious, raising his eyebrows at you and tilting his chin towards his chest, his dark eyes making you feel all sorts of butterflies, "I am very dangerous and can kill you with no hesitation."

You nodded, a mocking expression on your face, knowing deep inside that he would never harm you without reason. "That's hot."

He snorted in surprise, a loud laugh ringing through the meadow.

"I can take out a stormtrooper within twenty seconds."

You giggled, slapping his chest slightly. "So could a very determined duck. Or a Gungan!"

He attacked you, tickling fingers trailing along your side, making you shriek as you tried to get away from him.

"Take that back," Din demanded, a playful smile on his face.

"Okay, okay!" You laughed, squirming under his touch, "You're a mighty warrior."

He nodded, and raised his eyebrows at you expectantly.

"Din, are you fishing for compliments?" 

He winked at you. "I might be."

You pushed at his shoulder, chuckling to yourself, before you started off.

"You can take on four men at once."

He furrowed his brows and nodded thoughtfully, lips pursed, "I like those odds."

"You can use those badass jetpacks." You pressed a small kiss onto his knuckles, desperately trying not to laugh when his gaze became self-satisfied. 

"Training in the Rising Phoenix, sarad, don't you forget that."

"You can roundhouse kick a blurrg!"

Dissolving into giggles, you pressed your face into his chest, feeling it rumble with laughter as well.

The both of you cackled for several minutes straight, everytime you caught each other's gazes, starting to laugh again.

It took too long until you could breathe normally again.

"Haven't tried that yet," Din said, making you giggle.

"You're a mighty warrior, we all know that, no need to brag."

He smirked at you, the corner of his mouth twitching up. "But you know that it's not bragging if you can actually do it."

"I'm sure you can," you snorted, "But even warriors can wear flower crowns."

Din scoffed, a big grin on his face. "Is that so?"

He tried to take the crown off, but you pushed it deeper onto his head, flattening his shaggy hair against his forehead. He tried again, crunching his nose at you, a playful smile on his face, but you resisted his charm to the best of your abilities.

He quickly grabbed your shoulder and flipped you around, making you shriek with laughter as he pinned you onto the ground.

"Stop that," he said, and you could feel his belly twitch against you as he suppressed his laughter, "I'm very dangerous and I have a reputation to uphold."

"Of course, Din," you said, smiling up at him, his head eclipsing the sun in your view. Tugging at his hair, he pulled the crown down and set it onto your head.

"It suits you better," he said in a rough voice, and before you know it, he was devouring you in a searing kiss that made your toes curl, a hand on your cheek, tilting your face up to him for better access.

When he groaned your name into your mouth, you almost came on the spot.

~

You had told him to come to the meadow tonight, and you were excited beyond compare. As soon as you saw his familiar frame, tall and lanky but with deliciously broad shoulders, you made your way through the high grass, a basket in your hands.

"I brought food," you told him shyly, before spreading a picnic blanket onto the ground, flattening it carefully.

He dropped to his knees, and helped to make it more even, then put the basket right on the side so one corner would be secured by the weight.

You both took your shoes off, and after a bit of light conversation and nibbling at the various fruits you had packed, relaxed into each other.

"You know I can't do this for long, right?" Din asked, slowly tracing the side of your face with a gentle finger, his head propped up by his hand as you lay side by side under the guise of watching the stars.

You turned your head to him, and stared into his face.

"How long do we have?" you asked him, voice quiet and very small.

"Two months," he said, voice rough. 

To avoid having to answer to that, you kissed him desperately, rolling on top of him, bodies flush together as you straddled his lap, feeling proof of his desire against you. Kissing your way down his neck, you were careful not to leave any marks that Din could be punished for, should the Mandalorians see them. His hands were on you, kneading your sides, pulling you close.

He sat up quickly, and took off his shirt, and with pooling desire you absorbed the sight of his toned upper body, some scars curling around his arms and one slash across his abs.

He was beautiful. And you told him that as well, watching him blush, gaze darkening.

When you looked him into the eyes in the dim starlight, he gave you a slightly nervous but determined smile. You quickly resolved to kiss every single one of the scars he might possess, leaving a trail of wet kisses on his chest, then his stomach, and then lower.

He gasped when you wrapped your lips around him, his fingers tightening in your hair.

~

It was sufficient to say that while his visits were frequent before, now they were a nightly occurrence.

~ 

You could not always finish your explorations of each other, sometimes your commlink blinked and your mother demanded to know where you are, but most of the time it was Din's, the covert sending out messages to several of their trainees, having them run errands. But despite all of that, you learned each other's bodies quite well anyways. Using every moment you had together, touching the other one, feeling your skin against each other, the evidence for your desire never failed to make the other one dizzy. 

You learned a lot about Din during those stolen nights, and days, and little breaks whenever you could manage to sneak away. 

He was just as enthusiastic kissing you on the mouth as everywhere else, which you loved. It was almost as if he was trying to absorb as much of your touch as possible, probably stocking up on touch before he will swear the creed in a few weeks. 

As much as you wished that he would choose you over his tribe, you know he would not. It was too important to him.

So you took everything he had to offer you now, and made the best of it.

You made love under the stars so many times you had lost count, hiding a smile every time you felt the dull ache he left behind, and with Din's passion, you had never been so grateful before that you had the implant.

And it was so unfair, as well, for he had the face of an angel but his voice was sinful, making your head spin in the best of ways. Letting him in your life and between your legs was one of the best things that could have happened to you, even though time was working against you.

Din always let his mouth run while you were warming his ears with your thighs, while he was deep inside you, murmuring against your neck, while his fingers were buried in you, or in your hair as you looked up into his dark eyes, winking as you swirled your tongue around him. 

He never seemed to be able to shut up while you were around him, on him, under him, and it was as if he tried to make up for lost time already.

You pretended that you do not cry yourself to sleep because of his creed sometimes.

~

"I'll be of age in the fall," he told you again when you were hiding in the back of the stall on another slow day with almost no customers. You were on his lap, both of you with flushed faces and heaving chests after you spend several minutes simply making out, hearts fluttering fast in your chests. "I can't stay for long."

Even as your heart broke at hearing that, you decided that, once again, it was a problem for future-you.

"Then we'll make the best of it," you said before capturing his lips again, making him groan deep in his throat.

"You're so pretty," he whispered, his big hands resting on your waist, pulling your bodies close together, his dark eyes burning into you, the shaggy fringe falling into his eyes softening his face, "So, so pretty."

"Even when I'm making you flower crowns?" you teased.

"Especially when you're doing that," he whispered, and you pushed his fringe away from his face, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Din," you murmured his name, looking at him tenderly.

"You've wrapped me up in your daisy chains, sarad."

Heart clenching at the genuine affection in his voice, you kissed him to shut him up, feeling him smile against you, knowing that your days together were coming to an end.

……………

Thank you for reading!

Huge thanks at both @mndalorians for listening to me ramble late at night and being amazing, and @teaofpeach for being the beta of this fic, looking over this and constantly encouraging and enabling me. I love you❤

Tags: @binggrae-banana-milk @b0n-chann @pisss-offf-ghostt @chibi-liz05 @din-damn-djarin @soldade @yourexcellentboiiii @chaotic-noceur @ezrasarm @hdlynn @mndalorians @over300books @agirllovespasta @crookedmoonsaultpunk @teaofpeach @shadylightbearherring @mitchi-c @concussed-to-pieces @adikaofmandalore @dadolorian

[mandoinevarro]

NO REFUNDS

Words: 5.1k :))

Rating: E, baby

Warnings: Smut (surprise surprise), bad words :0, masturbation, a biiiit of praise kink, face fucking, cumplay? let me know on the comments, etc. etc. 

a/n: Happy Star Wars day!! The first few lines of this are an attempt at dumb comedy, but humor me a little and you’ll get a reward (smut) along the yellow-brick road

Finally, the lanky kid behind the counter stops air drumming with two chicken bones gnawed dry and trails his dopey eyes from the gloved fist on the table, up a bracer, and along a flexed arm, until they settle on the Mandalorian helmet staring him down and waiting for an answer. The employee removes the music bandeau from around his ears and settles it down, its noise so loud Mando can hear it from where it lays. The kid scratches the whiskers of facial hair growing patchy on his cheeks and thoughtfully nibbles on one of the bones, trying to figure out what one does when a client shows up.

“Uh, what?”

“I need to speak to the owner,” the Mandalorian repeats slowly.

“Oh, uh.” Mouth gaping like a fish too stupid to know it should fear hooks, the kid calmly turns his attention to the four walls of the hardware store, searching for guidance in the fluorescent signs hanging around the room and dictating the store’s rules like they’re ancient scriptures:

NO CHILDREN

WILL BUY STOLEN GOODS FOR LOWER PRICE

NO IMPS

NO REPUBLIC OFFICIALS

NO REFUNDS

NO APPOINTMENT, NO MEETING

“You, uh,” the kid continues, lingering on that last stanza and flicking open a dusty agenda that probably hasn’t been touched since the war ended, “you got an appointment, uh, sir?” He drags a greasy finger down the planner, squinting at nothing and pretending to read the page that Mando can clearly see is empty.

The bounty hunter sighs, holding on to the last reserves of patience that hang precariously on the cliff of his self-restraint, threatening to let go and leave him to his own anger. “No. But she’ll see me.” You better. You better fucking see him. “I was sold equipment here a few days ago, some of it faulty. I need to speak to her.”

The navigator. The fucking navigator. Of all the bunch of overpriced, black market scraps you’d somehow convinced the Mandalorian to buy from you last time, it just had to be the navigator. He still has his old blasters. Pumps are cheap. Even the deflector shields he could’ve done without for a couple of months. But the fucking navigator. The lack of droids on the Crest means that Mando relies solely on the navigator to set coordinates. Without it, he wouldn’t be able to find his way out of a system, let alone make hyperjumps. Even worse, the model is so old, its glitching isn’t recognized by the control panel, so he had to hover around the atmosphere of this damned planet for three days before figuring out what it was, throwing off his schedule and losing track of two bounties in the process. All because you sold him a damaged version of the one part he can’t do without.

But your gaping-mouthed kid worker seems too unused to visitors to really care about Mando’s request, too entertained nibbling on a bare bone and eyeing the costumer in front of him as a knowing smirk cracks his lips and he says, “I dig it.”

“You…you ‘dig it’? I don’t…”

“The whole, y’know.” He draws circles in the air with the bone, signaling the beskar armor while he wipes the sauce around his mouth with a sleeve. “The, uh, Mondolarian vibe you’ve got going on. Very retro, dude. I dig it.”  

Mondo…? Bewilderment overshadows irritation for a second, and Mando focuses all his energy into searching the kid’s vacant eyes for a sign of intelligent life. “I…I am a Mandalorian.”

Fucking stars above, it’s never easy with you. If not your endless teasing, it’s the exorbitant prices, your unwillingness to compromise, or your scurrying around so he’s forced to play cat and mouse with you. Your latest impossible challenge for him to tackle is, apparently, getting a straight answer from the obtuse employee you must have handpicked from a catalogue of idiots to torture Mando. Maker, he’s surprised your store hasn’t gone bankrupt yet. He can’t imagine anyone else in the galaxy putting up with your whims. And he only does it because…well, because…

After dedicating a couple of seconds to crafting the perfect response for what appears to be his very first client, the kid muses, “Well, shit, what do I know.” He flashes a toothy smile as he rereads the dogmas on the walls. “Says nothing about Mondolarians here, but, uh—”  

“—Look,” Mando bargains with your gatekeeper, trying to level the exasperation escaping the vocoder, “I only have one faulty part. Let me talk to the owner, and—”

“—Shit. I bet it was the microvalves.” Your staff of one hangs his tuff of hair in shame, swaying it limply from side to side, before staring straight at the visor apologetically. “My bad, dude, I’ve been trying to get them right, but I always fuck them up. It’s hard, y’know? Red with red, white with white. Why not red with white? Or—”

“—No. What? No. Listen to me. You sold me a busted—”

“—I sold you?” the kid scoffs, his eyes suddenly snapping wide and offended, ignoring Mando’s clenching fists, which usually make normal people cower. “Excuse me, mister Mondolarian sir, but I don’t, uh, don’t recall selling you shit, in fact—”

“—Not—not you personally, the store, look, just—”

“—in fact, I’ve never even met a Mondolarian before and you’ve, uh, no right—no right— to judge my microvalves that I worked hard on—”

“Let him in.” Your voice carries its usual amusement as it cuts between the Mandalorian and the kid, breaking off the bickering from both ends and drawing their attention to the melody’s source. You lean on the doorframe leading to your workshop, holding a pair of pliers in one hand and a wrench in the other. Grease is smeared on your face, where teeth bite down on a playful smirk and the twinkle in your eyes speaks of terrible intentions—like always. You tilt your head back to the room behind you. “C’mon, Mando. Let my receptionist work.”

With a sigh, the hunter moves towards the separate room, not before glancing back at the receptionist, who throws him one last disapproving look and wraps the bandeau that never stopped blasting music around his ears.

“Why do you keep him here?” the Mandalorian grunts as you push yourself off the doorframe to move inside your studio.

You shrug. “It’s him or droids.”  

Mando trails after you inside the cramped workshop, filled to the brim with piles and piles of sensors and motors and all the other scraps from dubious origins you collect, fix, and resell. He closes the door behind him and pushes a large tube hanging from the roof to the side to walk closer to you.

Facing him, you plummet on your wheeled chair with a sigh, your arms dangling off the armrests, still holding the wrench and the pliers, like you’re the monarch of your little kingdom of junk granting him an audience.

There, Mando finally gets a good look at you, and—much to his annoyance—you’re as lovely as always. Glistening and greasy, you’re still beautiful with oil stains on your skin and fat droplets of sweat trailing your temple. You beam at him from your squeaky throne with that faint grin that attracts nothing but trouble. Maker, no wonder you always manage to talk circles around him. But not this time. This time he won’t fall for your little games. He won’t, he won’t, he won’t. Tonight he’s walking out of here with all of his money, no matter how much you bat your pretty eyelashes at him.

The Mandalorian squares his stance and straightens his back in a futile attempt to intimidate you, strutting ahead firmly and pointing an accusing finger at your face.

“You sold me a—”

“—a busted navigator.”  You roll your eyes and push yourself to your legs abruptly before the hunter can get any closer. He stops dead on his tracks. You wave the wrench and the pliers in the air like the conductor of an orchestra. “I sold you a busted navigator.” The vowels are dragged out with an exaggerated tune to make fun of him. “Yeah, I heard you the first four thousand times, Mando.”

Without looking, you drop the pliers to the side. They land dead center on an open storage box. Perfectly. Almost rehearsed. Something clicks. The Mandalorian suddenly finds the missing piece of a puzzle he didn’t know needed solving, and he feels his shoulders deflate and release some of the anger that drove him to your store in the first place.

You peacock closer to him, one foot in front of the other and swaying your hips as you look down to the wrench in your hand. “But, you should know by now,” you murmur once you find yourself only inches away from the beskar, your voice morphing its earlier mock exasperation into the tone you only use whenever you two aren’t talking business. You look up at him, failing miserably at masking the mischief in your eyes. “I don’t do refunds.” You lift the wrench and grin as it taps the beskar breastplate lightly with a tink.

And before you can blink, Mando’s hand flies to your wrist to clutch it roughly, squeezing without hurting you, but with enough strength to force your fist open. Just like he knows you like it. The wrench falls to the floor with a bang that makes you jump. It’s Mando’s turn to smile when he pulls you by the wrist to press you closer against him. The cocky glint in your eyes dulls into confusion.

“I never said it was the navigator,” he informs you lowly.

You tense under his grasp and shift your jaw. “You knew I’d come back,” he continues, encouraged by your grimace. Staring at your feet, you half-heartedly try to wriggle away from his grasp, but he grabs your other wrist instead and holds you flush against the cold beskar. “Okay. I’m back. Now give me my money.”

But his satisfaction is short-lived, because if there’s anyone in the universe who knows no shame, that’s you. So you simply bite your lower lip and move your head from side to side to shake hair and embarrassment off your face. When you look up at the visor again it’s with that brazen insolence that secretly gets the Mandalorian going like nothing else in the galaxy.

“A girl gets lonely in here,” you purr. Your wrists relax, and make no attempt to pull away. “Can you blame me for wanting you back a little earlier?” Your plush lips curl into the perverse smile of someone who’s holding all the cards, making heat rush involuntarily to his crotch. And it drives him fucking insane. He could have you tied, shackled, or bent over, and you would still sneer at him like you had him wrapped around your finger.

At his silence, you wedge a leg tightly between his thighs and massage it against the bulge between. Your gasp in fake surprise when his length hardens at the first hint of a brush, too unused to any sort of physical contact to remain neutral to your bold caresses. He bites down hard on his lip to suppress a moan. He won’t give you the satisfaction.

Mando’s learnt, though, that his restraint only feeds your audacity. Only makes you taunt him more. His lack of response spurs you on, and you crane your neck forward to lick a slow line along the beskar of the chest. You blink at him playfully as you go, stuffing your tongue back into your mouth once you reach the top edge of the breastplate.

You must find it funny. How his ribs expand and contract in anticipation. How he tends to roll and unroll his fists in an attempt to suppress the instinct to throw you on top of the table so crowded by clutter that he can barely see the surface beneath and fuck the smirks off your face. How he always gives in. How he stiffens both scandalized and impossibly aroused every time you introduce him to some newer, filthier act. You must think it’s so fucking funny.

And as much as the bounty hunter wants to shove you back against your crumbling wheeled chair, he knows you’ll only enjoy it more. So he simply lets go of your wrists and steps back.

“I’m only here for my money,” he lies.

The vicious grin grows wider. “Oh, so you’re making me work for it tonight.” You step back and lean against a table with your arms crossed over your chest, purposefully pushing your tits against the cleavage. Mando shifts in his place. Licking your lips until they glisten, you give him a once-over. You study him inch by inch, and an uncomfortable rope knots in his stomach when he realizes that this is how his bounties must feel when he watches them wordlessly.

Your eyes settle on his visor, and a decision seems to cross them as you walk over to sit on your creaking chair. “Or maybe you just want to hear me beg.” You part your legs wide and clutch the armrest with one hand while the other disappears under the waist of your pants. The contour of your hand shifts up and down slowly inside the crotch of your trousers, and your lips crook into a full O as they release a deep, foul moan. “Is that it?” Your eyes are glossy and malignant, trained on his visor. “You want me to beg for your cock?”

His leather gloves ball into fists, trying to coax blood into his head and away from his…well, his other head.

Yet you hold him in place with that sinful stare and the lewd whimpers that you know get him off, and yes, fuck yes, he wants to hear you beg and sob for him all night as much as he wants to clog your throat with his shaft and make you swallow your teasing.

But he can’t let you win. You can’t scam five thousand credits out of him and expect him to throw himself into your arms no questions asked. He wants to put an end to your little tyrannical rule on his cock. And he wants his fucking money back.

So the powerful Mandalorian watches helplessly as your hand quickens under your clothing and you throw your head back in ecstasy. That fucking smirk doesn’t leave you, though. Even less so when your palm picks up some speed and you hear his breath hitch involuntarily at the visual, loud enough to override the vocoder.

“C-come on, Mando, don’t—” Your hand sinks deeper into your pants and you hum at the adjustment. “Don’t you wanna teach me what—what proper cos-costumer service looks like? Huh?”

His cock jumps in his pants when you say his name in a wanton gasp, and Mando can see you’re sweating and moving your hips faster against your palm. He’s so hard it hurts.

Your smile falters and you frown impatiently as the pent-up tension threatens to snap in your body.

“Don’t cum,” Mando blurts before he can stop himself.

“Or what?”

“Or I won’t give you what you want.”

Your movements halt on command, and the hunter almost envies the control you have over your own body to be able to backtrack on the very edge of your release. You hold your hands up in triumphant surrender as you watch the Mandalorian approach and stop just a breath away from your body. He stands tall before you, crowding you with his size and turning down the volume on the nagging voice that reminds him that he’s letting you win.

Eyes on the prize ahead of you, you lick your lips and snake a hand beneath your sit. You pull a lever and the chair plummets a few inches until your mouth is directly in front of the rigid tent growing in his pants. Expert fingers undo his belt and lower his fly, but, stars, nothing is fast enough when Mando already feels the veins of his cock growing thicker and thicker. Skipping all formalities, your hand sneaks inside, cups his balls, and pulls all of him outside. He groans when you grab his shaft and squeeze hard from base to tip, your bare palm catching awkwardly on his equally dry skin. Mando melts into the sensation all the same, but you seem displeased with your palm’s lack of fluidity.

“Fuck. Hold on.” A pair of fingers disappear into your mouth and down your throat as far as they’ll go. You choke on them dramatically and your eyes water slightly, but they shine when the two small intruders drag outside your mouth, pulling a thick string of elastic spit with them and dropping it on his shaft, pulsing with anticipation. You lean forward and look up through your lashes as you unroll your tongue slowly and more gooey saliva dangles from it. It’s too dense to spill onto its target, so you pluck the heavy ropes from your mouth and smear it manually on his cock, while a thread of it hangs on your chin.

“Fuck.” Your tiny clenched fist wakes up every nerve in his body as it drags up and down his shaft, obscene and perfectly lubricated. Mando’s hips buck into its grasp involuntarily, so suddenly that you flinch at the unexpected jolt. It’s a small comfort for him, to see that he can also surprise you. But then you’re giggling again, locking him in place by grabbing the buck of his belt with your free hand.

“Eager,” you remark. You lean forward and place a chaste kiss on the tip that digs into his spine. Maker, it was barely anything, but he’s so hard and your mouth is so close. “Aren’t Mandalorians,” you tease, “supposed to have self-restraint?”

Mando’s only answer is a low groan and a gloved hand that tangles on your hair and pushes you forward. You resist, though, instead wrapping a fist around his base and dragging your hot tongue up his underside, stopping just before the tip. A tortured whimper echoes around the helmet, and the Mandalorian is not sure if you could hear it because his muscles pull tighter, drawing his attention to his cock and your mouth and the fact that the latter is not wrapped around him for some reason. As if you could read his mind, you suddenly engulf him whole. Spit gathers on the edge of your lips as you suck on his length, swallowing around the tip and swirling your tongue around his girth.

“Fuck, you’re so—so fucking g-good at this.” You hum in response, sending vibrations through his shaft that make his knees buckle. He always forgets how good it feels with you. He forgets that you take him perfectly like all your holes were made for him to fuck. That you make his blood run hot with every swing of your tongue and every spasm of your cunt and every insolent remark that escapes your lovely mouth, now busy pleasuring him.

You settle on his head and suck on the bulb, hollowing your cheeks to let him feel the delicious inside of your mouth. Mando grabs handfuls of your hair with both hands, still trying to extinguish little whimpers before they leave his throat. And you can tell. He knows you can tell because determination clouds your eyes as you yank him closer by the belt. You drag your tongue in a circle around the ridge of the head, before dipping into the slit on the tip and finally earning a punched out groan and some beads of precum as a reward. Somehow, you moan and chuckle at the same time, opening your mouth as strings of spit fall to the floor.

“You’re hard, Mando,” you coo, pumping his length while you rub it on the side of your face, “throbbing and so, so hard. You should’ve come to me sooner, baby. You’re desperate.” You suck on the head again, and the Mandalorian’s grip on your hair turns to steel, pulling you into him and no longer asking. Moaning, you let him, taking him as far as you can and wrapping a fist where you can’t reach. Your other hand releases his belt and snakes down to your lap, fumbling with the waistband of your pants.

Somewhere in the swamp of sensations drowning his thoughts, an idea flashes in Mando’s head, and he holds on to it before you can suck it out of his tip. One glove lets go of your hair and quickly grans the hand lowering into your heat to resume touching yourself. His cock still in your mouth, you look up at him with furrowed eyebrows and a silent question.

“You can’t c-cum,” he explains, forcing words out of a throat that right now only wants to moan, “un-until you give me my—my refund.”

You groan and roll your eyes, taking your mouth off him with a pop. “Fuck no,” you breathe as you pump him faster and harder, almost making Mando lose his resolve. Almost. His hold on your wrist tightens. “It’s store policy.”

“Y-yeah?” You continue sliding your fist along his shaft, as you lean forward and lower your face to start lightly licking his balls. The room spins around Mando, and his grip on your hair pushes you into him until you suck on one ball gently. “Is—is it store p-policy to—ngh—to f-fuck your clients?”

You chuckle against his taint. Your head straightens to set your attention back on his tip, where he’s leaking an almost embarrassing amount of precum. A thumb brushes over his slit, gathering the pearls and bringing them into your mouth to taste him. The way you rub your core slightly against the chair is sneaky enough, but the Mandalorian catches the movements and tugs your hand and hair tighter as a warning. Your shoulders slump.  “I’ll give you half,” you offer.

Mando guides your hand lower and curls it around his swollen cock, silently begging for your attention. His hand wraps over yours as he squeezes your fist and drags it along his shaft at a pace of his liking that sets his insides ablaze. “Eighty.” The helmet falls back as he revels in the wet sounds of your hand sliding back and forth his cock and giving him a nice enough memory for when he inevitably goes back to the Crest and is forced to take care of his needs himself.

You let him guide you, cupping his balls with your other hand and swirling your tongue around his darkening tip. Mando’s chest trembles with a long moan at the toe-curling feeling of your warm spit and your clenched fist working so hard for him, until you drop him from your mouth and answer, “Seventy.”

“N-no, I—”

“—Seventy,” you repeat and twist your hand away from his grasp, leaving his seeping cock throbbing and abandoned, “or you don’t cum.”

Fuck, he was close. He was so fucking close, before you turned the tables. Like fucking always. A part of him cradles his already bruised pride, shaming him for—yet again—not being able to hold it together around you. But his cock tugs harder. More insistently. It pulls every fiber in his body and screams at him to give you whatever the fuck you want.

“Fine.” He nods his head once, before his better sense can convince him otherwise. “Seventy.”

A full, beautiful smile that almost makes Mando forget he’s getting scammed graces your plump lips. You waste no time shoving your hand inside your underwear again and moving your arm frantically as you give him a couple of throaty whines. You open your mouth as wide as it’ll go and blink up at him, inviting him to take you however he so pleases. He tangles his fingers on your hair and shoves you against him as you wrap your lips around his cock and muffle your mewls on it.

The Mandalorian starts fucking your face, getting his money’s worth as he moves you back and forth. Your eyes water and you gag with every shove, but you work earnestly for him, hollowing your cheeks and moving your tongue and pulling just about every trick on your toolbox to make Mando’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

And stars, even through your pants and his helmet, he can still smell your arousal. He hears the wet squelching of your fingers working your pussy fast and if he could only get a look. One look is all he needs to cum, he’s sure, one fucking look at your clenching cunt and he’s done.

“F-fuck, l-let me see,” he pants, “let—let me s-see you—see your p-pussy cum, just—fuck—just a mo-moment, please, j-just…”

Tears from all the gagging fall out of your pretty eyes as you open your mouth and stand up, taking your trembling hand outside to fumble with your trousers. Your thumbs are hooked under their waistband and push down slightly before you suddenly stop and stare at the Mandalorian gulping all the oxygen he can get and waiting for you. “Sixty,” you say carefully.

Too intoxicated with you and too focused on the blood beating hard on his cock, Mando couldn’t care less. He doesn’t give a shit about percentages or money or parts or whatever half-forgotten excuse he had to come here tonight. All that matters and all that’s real is whatever he needs to climax, and if it means letting you win, so be it. “S-sixty. Yes. Whatever. Just—just take your fucking pants off.”

One swift movement and your pants and underwear pool around your ankles. Yanking hard on the hem, you manage to pull the right leg off your boot. You don’t bother with the other one, letting it hang on your left leg as you climb back on the chair, spreading your legs and hooking one thigh over the armrest to offer him the best view possible.

Mando’s cock threatens to spill at the sight. You’re fucking soaked. Your folds are blushed and slick and swollen with all the blood accumulated on your cunt. Three fingers rub your aching clit and everything around it with messy strokes, as you stare at the bounty hunter with raw lust and moan for him loud and clear, and this. This is worth the fucking navigator.

As soon as his shaft ghost over your face you lean into it and reach for him with your mouth. Mando takes your head between his hands and resumes his previous brutal pace, his eyesight now directed at the way your cunt spasms and seeps more juices with every circle you press against your lips. And, fuck, you’re taking him like you’re hungry for his cock. Pushing harder and further and faster despite the gagging, you’re making Mando see blotches cloud his vision and feel how his muscles turn into hot, thick magma. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he can’t hold it in anymore. His balls start pulling up as a warning and you’re sucking harder and mewling around him.

“I—I…I’m gonna—I—”

Mando can’t find enough words to put together for the life of him, but you nod and manage a chocked “Mhmm” and bob your head to the pace of your quickening fingers and stars oh fuck—

The wave of his climax hits him hard on his back and makes him curl around you. He braces himself against the top of your chair and the change in position makes his cock slip outside of your mouth, but his vision goes completely black and all he can feel is the rush of pleasure crushing his bones into dust. Maybe your name is falling from his lips, but he can’t be sure. The never-ending spurts of cum falling somewhere hoard most of his attention, and he focuses on that thick and heavy release, so rare for him that he puts his mind into savoring every second.

It’s not until the echoes around his ears dissipate that the Mandalorian hears you’re still whimpering. Hunched over you, he opens his eyes just in time to see you gather some of the seed that he spilled on your neck and bring it down to smear it over your bundle of nerves, rubbing it one, two, three, four times, before you’re sobbing long and loud. Your hole tightens around nothing, your forehead resting on his cuisse, and Mando thinks he could get hard again just from the image.

You both stay like that for a while, curled into each other and panting in turns, until Mando gathers all the energy left in his system to pull himself upright and shove his softening shaft back into his pants. It’s only then that he sees just how much of a mess he made: Cum landed everywhere. It hangs thick all over your face, on your neck, on your hair, on your clothes. He blushes darkly and he’s about to open his mouth to apologize, but you sense it. Somehow. You wink and brush off his shame with a smile and a wave of your hand, standing up to get dressed. But Mando’s quicker. He kneels in front of you and gently raises your underwear until it hugs your hips, wishing for a fleeting second he could press a kiss on the supple flesh there. You grab his pauldron for balance to sneak your foot into the pantleg that Mando holds open for you.

For once, it’s he who breaks the silence. “I…I do want my sixty percent, you know.”

“Of course.” You smile sweetly at him, reaching back to your work table to grab a clean rag, rubbing it against your face and neck. “I’ll even throw in some free microvalves for good measure.”

—

Taglist of two so you can keep each other company :) : @rosetophighlander​ @hellomothermoon

[agust-june]

Retired Excuses

I know I said that was my last post but I never keep promises. I want to address many issues with the kpop community. I feel like this is a step for some people to realize the racist, toxic, gaslighting, and just complicit behaviors that go on. My last post was about educating idols, this post is going into the excuses that some of you fans make when it comes to idols when they Cultural Appropriate or do something Racist. I will also combat those excuses telling you why you're COMPLETELY WRONG. I have more discussion topics especially when it comes the anti Blackness in some fandoms. This post isn't to one of three people it to and for everyone that makes these types of excuses. I've even included black stans who excuses Idols.

Also, I'm not an Anti or a Hater. I don't hate kpop and I only hate a VERY FEW idols.

Let's get to it!

EXCUSE

This is the definition of an excuse.

Now that we know what that means that's exactly what some of you fans like to do with your idols. Your idol can do something so fucked up and there will still be fans making excuses and defending them. I mean look at Seungri...he still has a shooter when it's in their face. I'm not gonna talk about him too much bc his stans are too sensitive.

The excuses that we're giving and that these kpop companies are giving are bull shit. At least with SM, they don't even apologize or even say anything because they know and don't care. This brings me to the conclusion that SM as a company is racist and some of the idols there are possibly racist. SM is a company that treats their idols poorly, so why would they care about fans especially black fans when they know next comeback we'll buy it.

"Oh, they didn't know" this excuse is dumb especially when it's a picture of them in the act. For example when the photo of Hendery in that hat and the photo with Sowon. Those were both taken down so quickly. Why? Because they knew what they did was wrong. So if your fans need to stop thinking these grown-ass ADULTS are stupid. Korea is in the top rankings for academics. Though not every idol is from Korea they are still from either Japan or China which are also at the top for academics. Now before y, all get upset I came with my damn resources bc unlike some of yall I can back my shit up. Also, the links are down below.

https://worldpopulationreview.com/country-rankings/education-rankings-by-country

  https://schoolinreviews.com/pisa-results-published-in-dec-2019-which-countries-score-the-highest-and-why/

Y'all see the magic of Google?? Do you see how simple it is to do research.

This is proof that our idols know what's wrong what's right and wrong so they can know what's racist. If they don't Google is free. Social media is free.

"They're Korean why would they know things happening in America" here is also another excuse. The world is only connected by two things the internet and social media. After this summer during the BLM protests the whole world was watching the U.S and some are still doing it. Even if they aren't focused on the US they can do some research.  Also if they can pay attention to the different tik to dances and listen to music from the U.S they can know what goes on here.

"They didn't say the N-word that means ___ in Korean" Now this is a blurred excuse but it's not hard to hear the N-word. Like the Korean word for I is Ne-ga it's pronounced Ney-gah when you break down the word Korean vowels are different from English. N-word pronounced Nig- and the rest of the letters.  When you break the words down they sound completely different even when using the vowels. There is no way you can mistake those words. Therefore no excuse. 

"I'm black and I don't feel offended" You're a victim? You would rather defend these idols who hurt your people any don't know and care about you? That's sad. And for the white fans that use that as an example...your opinion and 2 cents are not valid. We don't care to hear it from you. What that does is Invalidate black stans who were hurt by this.

"They already apologized. Let it go" Just because an idol apologizes for that doesn't mean shit. That's like saying a murder asking the victim that they murdered for forgiveness. Just because they apologized doesn't mean we have to forgive them.

"It's the company/stylist's fault" Stop only blaming the stylist and company.

“Its appreciation not appropriation”  Flush it down the toilet. That sounds like the same excuses Jackson made. If Black stans are offended they're offended. Did your idol ask beforehand to use our culture?, No they just did it because they thought it was trendy and cute. Also, is that what yall have to say when it comes to some idols who nock black people? Because all I hear was crickets. If an idol wants to appreciate black people and black culture they can do three things.

1.) Something nice for Black fans and black fans only

2.) Speak on black issues, tell Something that they learned with black history, and or take the time to learn about our culture instead of STEALING it for their style.

3.) Donate to black lives matter(the bare minimum) (Also Army don't bring up the one Million dollar donation that's gonna be a post soon.)

4.) Do all three(above and beyond expectations)

But the sad part is they don't do it. Because they don't care. If they're actually in love with the culture, how come they barely know anything about it? Please answer this in the comments or reblog or DM me.

“X item isn't even black culture” all I have to say is do your damn research. When it comes to boxing braids you think they are Bo Derek braids... no honey that was a white woman STEALING from black women. Also IDK why but some of yall think idols or white people invented things when in reality they were STOLEN from BLACK PEOPLE. Yall do realize Kpop is from Black culture? The way they dressed back then to their rap. Even Taeyang from Big Bang said he wanted to be black to write better music...that should show you everything right there. They use our culture to fit this aesthetic because of the things worn by artists in the 80s or 90s. I've seen idols in Durags and they don't need it. Durags are used to keep hair in place and it was solely made for black people. Here is an article explaining the history behind it and what it is used for now.

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/05/14/style/durag-solange-met-gala.html

Bonnets to the same thing. I only seen one idol wear a bonnet and that's Jaebeom but that's still debatable. A durag is not a hat or a headdress you put on (KIM JONGIN I'M TALKING ABOUT YOU SIR THAT GOES FOR NCT AS WELL). I would appreciate it if idols started being more considerate especially when it comes to using black culture. So saying it's them Appreciating our culture is a No. You're making us look like the bad guys when all we want is to have something for ourselves. Idk what ya'll don't get Black people had to BUILD their own after slavery. Our invention that people use today that could've been a big industry was STOLEN. Then let's get into music how WHITE people would STEAL MUSIC because they had no original idea. Then when we FINALLY were comfortable not being excepted and having our own little safe space. That was destroyed by white people too. They had to steal everything from black people. That's why we're upset when idols use our culture and half of them don't know the meaning behind it and if they do know they don't care. They just care about the Shiney new trend or aesthetic.

“if that's appropriation then learning Korean is too” here are the definitions of Language and Culture. Because some of you need it.

Korean is a language...Language is universal like music.  Music is a language, you are using it to communicate and express your emotions as you do with Language. Culture is completely different. Sure language is in culture but culture isn't a language.

“They weren't trying to be offensive/you're being too sensitive” Who are you? Who are you to tell me how I should feel? Especially if your white you get no opinion and we black stans don't want your two cents. If anything some of ya'll got real sensitive at the Taehyung hates white people joke. Even if he did?...so what? What were ya'll going to do? Nothing. Nothing to him. Don't tell people what and how they should feel that's that.  NEXT.

"_____ did it first" Shut up. Are we talking about___? Did we mention them?? No, we didn't. Every time we Nct gets caught with cultural appropriation yall always like to drag other idols trying to deflect from NCT getting their asses dragged. This isn't just with NCT fans it's everyone especially when you bring bts in it. Yall especially love to bring BamBam in it. Oh, don't worry they're getting dragged too but was that supposed to stop us black stans from dragging their ass? All idols can get the same two-piece combo.

"There are two sides to every story"  what other side is there?? Because they're both wrong. It's like cheating you would get mad at the other women for sleeping with your S/O right? Why don't yall ever get at the guy? Because it's clear he was the one who cheated regardless there's no excuse. So when it comes to an idol what is the other side? They have a brain they have morals and they have free will to make decisions. So there is no fucking excuse.

That's it that's all I have for today. Like I said I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to keep saying my opinions and thoughts regardless of people hating me or unfollowing me. I think that I've grown a lot and I don't feel scared to voice my opinion here anymore. So my next topics:

Kpop industry and how they hate black people and steal black culture

What BTS donating A Million Dollars means to me

If you're a black stan and there's something you want me to talk about something that I may have missed or something I missed in the post reblog, comment, or DM me.

[adhd-disaster-willie]

seventeen and strung out on confusion; chapter 2/4

So, I don’t really like this chapter as much as the other one but it’s fine. :/ I don’t have the patience to redo it, so this is what you get :)

Warnings: Homophobia, child abuse, non-graphic description of wounds, panic attacks

chapter 1

---

Alex didn’t quite know how long he’d been curled up on the sidewalk when a figure began approaching him; but he was shivering and crying and really not in the mood to be murdered. The person may not have been headed directly towards him, but they sure were biking fast in his direction and once again, being kicked out and killed on the same night didn’t sound like much fun. So, swearing underneath his breath, Alex stood up and began jogging away, still unsure of where he was headed.

The bike came barrelling towards Alex but came to a screeching halt immediately after passing him. 

“Alex?!” The person, who had a guitar strapped to their back, hopped off the bike and stumbled towards Alex.

“Luke?” Alex whispered, baffled. “What are you-” But he didn’t get to finish his sentence before Luke wrapped him in a hug, burying his face in Alex’s shoulder. Alex decided not to mention Luke’s damp, red cheeks. 

“Dude, what are you doing?” Luke asked, pulling away.

Alex snorted at that. “I could ask you the same thing.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and began rocking on his heels, counting down the seconds until Luke read him like he always does and Alex had to stop him from marching back up the block and yelling at the Mercers until his voice was hoarse.

“Your parents,” Luke muttered, his voice hardening, bitter. “They kicked you out didn’t they?” Luke didn’t get angry very often. Sure, he got upset and disappointed and frustrated, but he wasn’t one to get genuinely furious. He was now though. Alex grabbed his wrist and shook his head. 

“Yes, but Luke, please don’t.”

Luke narrowed his eyes, but backed off. “I’m gonna kill them,” He hissed beneath his breath.

“Not if you die from the cold. What are you even doing out here?”

Luke grew quiet, his gaze shifting to the ground. “Nothing, nothing I was just… I was headed to Bobby’s. The studio.”

Alex nodded, internally berating himself for not having thought of that. But he didn’t want to bother anyone. Staying in the studio for the night was entirely different from asking to live there. But he didn’t have much of a choice. 

Luke, somehow sensing Alex’s thoughts, sighed. “I’m gonna go grab your bike,”he said, giving Alex a quick hug before turning to walk up the sidewalk.

“Luke, you don’t have to-”

“Nah, I do. I’m not gonna make you go back there, and we sure as hell aren’t walking all the way to Bobby’s.”

“Fine. But you need to tell me what happened!” Alex shouted after him, but he was already far enough to pretend he hadn’t heard anything. 

---

Alex’s hands were practically numb after 10 minutes of biking, and his backpack felt like it had doubled in size. Not to mention the only light was people’s Christmas decorations and the occasional street light, and he’d only ever gone to Bobby’s in the day so he was relying about 80% on muscle memory. All in all, not a great situation. 

“Dude, why the fuck is Bobby’s house so far away?” Alex complained, adjusting his grip on his bike handles in hopes that it’d bring back some sort of feeling in his fingers. 

Luke shrugged. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet the whole ride and was yet to explain why he’d run off in the middle of the night, but Alex knew he’d open up in time… hopefully. If it had to be pried out of him, it would; but Luke was never one to keep secrets. At least Alex leaving in the middle of the night wouldn’t take much explanation, except to Bobby’s parents. No one had dared say it out loud, but for the whole year it’d felt like the seconds Alex had before being kicked out were just slowly running out. And this was the last straw. 

“Can we- can we stop for a minute?” Alex breathed, his legs burning. “I have like, no stamina.”

Luke chuckled weakly, coming to a slow stop. They leaned their bikes on the side of the curb before sitting down, feeling relieved that they recognized the area; it was just a few blocks from Reggie and roughly another 5 minutes to Bobby’s place. 

Alex let out a shaky breath. “It doesn’t even feel real,” he whispered, dropping his head and burying his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “God, they kicked me out.” It was finally settling in and Alex felt sick. “Dad wasn’t even there. It was- it was just Mom and she… She didn’t even seem sorry. She looked at me like I was nothing.” He choked down a sob. “Like I was never her son. I didn’t think she’d ever hate me, but look at where we are now.” Alex didn’t bother fighting the tears this time. His shoulders shook and he brought his knees up to his chest, breathing in slowly in hopes to prevent a panic attack. 

Luke moved in closer, wrapping an arm around Alex’s shoulder and squeezing. “Hey, it’ll be alright. We’ve got each other. And Bobby, and Reggie-”

“Luke, Alex?”

Both boys snapped to attention; they would’ve recognized that voice anywhere.

“Reg?” Luke stood up and took two long strides to meet Reggie, clasping his thin, hunched shoulders. “Shit. Reggie, dude.”

Alex wiped his eyes furiously as he walked over to where Reggie and Luke stood and he once again recognized the pure anger dripping from Luke’s words. Then Reggie moved closer to the streetlight and Alex’s heart plummeted to his feet. 

Reggie’s face was blotchy and pink and his eyes were swollen from crying. His hair was slightly damp and Alex felt sick upon seeing the shards of glass in it. There was dried blood on his cheek and Alex was afraid for him to take his jacket off, but Luke tore it off anyway, inspecting the bruises running up and down Reggie’s forearms and wrapped around his wrists.

Reggie squeaked in protest and snatched the jacket back, his hands shaking.

“They are dead,” Luke muttered coldly. He gestured to both Alex and Reggie. “I am going to actually kill both of your guys’ parents.”

Reggie looked over to Alex. “What did Alex’s parents…” He trailed off, face darkening in realization. 

“Where were you gonna go?” Alex asked quietly, his grip on his fannypack strap tightening. 

Reggie shrugged and went to sit down on the curb. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I can’t just leave forever. Sammy… I can’t leave him alone with them.” He shook his head. “I’d hate myself if I just left him there.”

“Olivia moved out last year and left you guys alone!” Luke countered, sitting beside Reggie. “Reg, dude, you can’t stay there!”

Reggie’s expression hardened in a way Alex had never seen. Reggie Peters was basically a human puppy and it seemed Alex had gotten all to used to that fact. “Yea but she knew we had each other, Luke. You don’t get it. Sammy’s just 13, I can’t just leave him. I can’t.” Reggie’s tone grew more hopeless at the last sentence, his lip quivering.

“Fine,” Luke grumbled. “But at least come with us tonight. We’re going to Bobby’s.”

“But what if-”

“No buts. You’re hurt and you smell like beer, we’re not gonna leave you out here.”

“But Sammy-”

“Sammy’ll be ok,” Alex cut in. He squeezed Reggie shoulder and gave a half-hearted smile. “He’s a tough kid.”

Reggie nodded. A quiet sob ripped through him and he buried his head in his knees, leaving damp spots on his jeans from his hair which would probably smell like alcohol for a week.

Alex lay an arm around Reggie’s shoulder and Luke chuckled. “Yea, group hug,” he whispered feebly, joining the embrace.

The temperature was rapidly dropping and Alex could feel Luke shivering and Reggie’s teeth chattering, his own feet growing numb in his shoes. But for just a split second, none of that mattered. He didn’t have to look to know that they were all crying and that Reggies hair was sticking to his cheek and Luke’s guitar case was digging into someone’s shoulder. They were a family. A stupid, dysfunctional, scarily codependent family, but still. It was something.

---

March, 1995

Despite protest, Bobby’s parents had started giving Alex and Luke monthly allowances; claiming that if they were gonna live there, they were family, not guests. Reggie refused to accept the money; he was still returning to his house at least two nights a week for fear that his parents would take their anger out on Sammy. But the money meant that Alex was finally able to get a new hoodie; one that wasn’t too tight around the shoulders and didn’t ride up every time he lifted his arms. It was nice, too. Sure it’d taken a couple months of allowance to buy, but it was soft and comfortable and his favorite shade of pink. 

“Alex,” Luke whined, drawing out the vowel like a small child begging for candy. “You can’t leave us like this!”

“Luke-”

“It’s betrayal! You- I thought you were our friend!”

“Stop being dramatic,” Alex replied, smacking Luke’s shoulder lightly. 

“Ow.”

“It’s one band practice. If I don’t retake this test, I’ll fail Algebra.”

“Algebra is a stupid subject anyway,” Luke pouted, kicking a rock angrily.

“Bobby’s mom got ice cream,” Alex said. “Now go.” He waved Luke off, smiling impatiently.

Luke trudged away from Alex’s locker and towards the exit, his head hung low. “You’re the worst,” He shouted before walking out of sight.

Alex sighed and chuckled lightly as he turned back to rifle through his locker in search of a pencil; he’d lost his favorite one in English earlier that day (more like Bobby stole it, but same difference). He didn’t like pens because the concept of not being able to fix mistakes was more daunting than it probably should be, and he refused to use any non-mechanical pencils (“Shut it Luke, I’m allowed to be picky about my pencils!”) because he hated having to sharpen them constantly and he had a bad habit of pressing down too hard and breaking the lead. So he couldn't find a damn pencil and Mr. Thomas had said he had to be in classroom by 4:30 if he wanted to retake the test but he couldn’t find a stupid pencil. Alex swallowed and breathed in shakily, glancing up at the clock which seemed to be moving too fast because there’s no way it was already 4:25. Logically, he could just ask Mr. Thomas if he could borrow a pencil, but he didn’t want to be a bother, and he knew there was a pencil somewhere in here. 

Alex cried out in frustration, slipping his backpack from his shoulders and unzipping the small front pocket which he’d reserved specifically for writing utensils. Nothing. Ok. Fine, he’d just borrow one. It isn’t that hard to ask to use a pencil. Right.

Halfway across the hallway, Alex heard snickering drifting from around the corner. He froze and gripped his backpack straps tighter. It was useless, willing himself to keep walking. Not when that laughing was sickeningly familiar. God, Alex hated football players. 

“Awe look he got a new jaaacket.” Someone -Alex refused to try and decipher who- cooed mockingly.

Alex didn’t turn around.

“Y’know when you stopped wearing the other one, we were really hoping your parents had finally beat some sense into you.”

Alex looked at the clock. 4:28. He willed himself to move forward, ignoring the twisting in his stomach. He played out the beat to Now or Never on his backpack straps. 

“Hey! We’re talking to you!”

Why was the hallway so long? Alex had begun to think it had doubled in size since he’d started walking. His hoodie felt too hot all of the sudden and he could practically feel someone breathing down the back of his neck. They were talking to him, but it was muffled, like he was underwater. He tried breathing in slowly. 4:29. His steps quickened. 

“F*g!” 

He couldn’t breathe. Alex couldn’t breathe and he felt like someone had stabbed him in the stomach and was twisting the knife over and over and over again. 4:30. Oh god. They were yelling at him and drawing closer and closer and now he’d missed his chance and was gonna fail algebra and they’d call his parents and then the school would know he’d been kicked out and-

Someone had hit him. He wished he could pinpoint where, but his entire body was numb and throbbing and everything was blurry. He wondered briefly if the shouting was in his head or out of it. And this might be where he could say he’d blacked out, but that wasn’t quite what had happened. He stumbled blindly across the rest of the hall, mostly on autopilot, unable to see through tears and why was he crying??? He never really fainted, but no matter how hard he tried, Alex couldn’t remember what’d happened next. 

---

“Alex!” 

That was Luke, Alex was sure of it. 

“ ‘Lex, come on.” 

Reggie shook Alex’s shoulder and his vision began to clear. Oh. 

“What, why am I in the studio?” He asked frantically. “How did I- my test!” He stood up and not bothering to figure out why he was dizzy, Alex rushed to the doorway. 

“Nope.” Bobby clasped his shoulder tightly and steered him back to the couch. “Sit down, idiot, you almost passed out.”

“Dude, who punched you?” Luke asked, scooting in closer to Alex and gazing furiously at the bruise on his face.

Alex shrugged. “I don’t- I’m not- it’s…”

“Mr. Thomas said you came into his classroom and tried to ask for the test but he wouldn’t let you since you’d just been beat up and then Bobby heard you in the room cause, cause he came up to the school to give you a ride so you didn’t have to walk-”

“Reggie slow down, you’re gonna give him another panic attack!” Luke scolded, swatting Reggie’s chest and shoving him lightly. 

Bobby sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Mr. Thomas is letting you retake the test next week, drink some water.” 

Alex took the glass gratefully and took a hesitant sip. He set the water down and breathed in, settling into the couch, still tense. “ ‘M sorry,” he muttered.

“Sorry? Dude what?” Luke looked at Alex, completely baffled. “What are you apologizing for?”

“I made you cancel practice so I could take my test but I didn’t even take it.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Reggie chided. “We’re not mad at you-”

“Yea it’s whatever asshat punched you that we’re mad at.”

“Bobby, we’re not killing anyone.”

“Yea please don’t get yourself arrested for me,” Alex laughed softly. 

Bobby shook his head and flopped down on the couch beside Reggie. “Fine.”

“Hey,” Luke shook Alex gently. “You want some chocolate? Reg got some of that fancy stuff-”

“No, I draw the line at giving him my chocolates,” Reggie complained, reaching across Alex to slap a hand over Luke’s mouth. “Ew! Dude, you licked me!” Reggie whined loudly as he shook his hand, pretending to gag. “That’s just low.”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

“You’re both stupid.”

Alex let his head fall against the back of the couch, a small smile creeping onto his face.

---

I’m not great at angst, so I’m not quite sure why I thought I’d do well with this fic akhfkldsfh

please tell me if there’s anything else I should add a warning for, I tried to do everything but I could’ve overlooked something. 

chapter 3

chapter 4

[kewltie]

"Isn't he, like, thirty-something years old?" Eri says, voice pitched high in a scandalized tone. "That's half of his foot in the grave already! Why is he even dating a college student if this isn't some midlife crisis?!"

Izuku groans out loud. "Eri-chan, please have mercy." For someone who is describe as the takane no hana of their campus, Eri’s tongue can cut deeper than the sharp edge of a blade.

She shoots him a knowing glare. "He just wants a pretty young thing on his arms to compensate for his wrinkle old balls so don't you fall for it, Izuku-kun!"

Truly, the sharpest tongue.

Izuku's face gets so hot that he thinks he's going to combust at any moment from the embarrassment of this entire exchange. "T-that's not—" he starts, gearing up for a defense, but Eri's eyes suddenly widen in front of him and her jaw drops in shock as a hand covers Izuku's mouth to silence his next words.

"Care to repeat that to my face, shitty brat," a familiar voice growls behind him.

Even without looking back, Izuku knows just by the cadence of his voice. The way it dips low and get throaty when he’s annoyed; the curt infliction of his vowels as he drags his consonant around. Izuku knows him by heartbeat. Intimately and surely as the ground under his feet.

His lips brush against a callus palm as he covers the hand over his mouth with his own. Fingers sweeping against the coarse skin that had seen it fair share of battles; losses and victories were tied up in these extraordinary hands. It's the source of his power and strength. Even knowing the danger that can be these familiar hands can impose, Izuku never feels safer than when he is within its cradle. Izuku drags the hand down from his mouth, but doesn't let it go from his grip. Instead, he wraps his fingers around it and holds tight.

It squeezes back.

Izuku’s entire body lets out a small tremor before he can get his voice to work. “K-Katsuki-san,” he murmurs. “What are you doing here?"

The chair besides him scrapes across the floor and Katsuki drops down in the empty seat. "I'm picking you up for lunch," he grunts out.

Eri, who had grown up under strict tutelage of her yakuza grandfather, is no wilting flower. "Hey, wrinkle old man balls," she states flatly, narrowing her eyes at him in contempt. "Aren't you supposed to patrolling and not hang around a college campus, harassing its students?"

Katsuki grits his teeth. "I'm visiting my boyfriend, brat," he retorts sharply. "And I just got out of a twelve hours shift saving annoying people like your ungrateful and mouthy's ass who is reminding me clearly I took up the fucking wrong profession because you're all shit." Izuku casts a furtive glance at Katsuki and sees that he is out of his uniform. Dressed in a casual black dresshirt that is, uh, Izuku breath hitches as he notices the upper two most buttons are left open to reveal tantalizing defined collarbones underneath. He desperately wants to run a careful hand over them, to feel Katsuki's skin pressed against his palm and to know the weight of touching the current number one hero in Japan, who had remained untouchable to the mass, but he’s here right now beside Izuku, holding his hands like it’s not blowing his mind.

Izuku wants to climb inside of him, burrow deep, and not let go. His eyes widen suddenly and he muffles a squeak, hoping nobody notice his strange behavior as he flexes the free hand on his lap while the other hand twitches under Katsuki's grip under the table. His cheeks redden at such strange and lewd thoughts that plague him, but the two in front of him hadn't notice at all.

They're still locked in a heated contention and looks about to leap out of their respective seat and duke out right here, right now. The crowd be damn.

Unimpressed, Eri huffs and crosses her arm imperiously. "I don't trust you or your intention with Izuku-sempai.”  

Katsuki leans back into his seat and raises a brow as casual as you please. "Not that I give a rat's ass about your opinion, but thanks for the info." He turns to Izuku. "What you feel like eating?"

Eri, for the first time in a while is completely disarmed by Katsuki’s provocation, sputters, "Hey, you can't just take him away like that! I was here first and we're not done talking!"

"Yea?" Katsuki muses, brushing his thumb against Izuku's knuckles in deliberate circles that sends spark up Izuku's spine. "So you don't want grab lunch with me, Deku?"

Izuku quickly looks away, chest heaving and breath short as though his lungs don’t quite work. "I—" he flushes, "y-yes, I would very much like to eat lunch with you," he finally squeaks out. He can already feel Eri's outrage, realizing at that moment she got horribly outplayed by Katsuki. Eri makes a wounded noise. “Izuku-sempai! How could you?! You said we were going to hang out today,” she cries out. If it wasn’t for the fact that he knows her like the back of his own hand, he would be scrambling over to her side to grovel for being a horrible friend right then. Izuku winces. "What if I'll buy you dinner and help you with that term paper in our Hero Theory class to make up for it?" he offers.

Her eyes snap to him. "Two dinners, a term paper, and also you're not allow to cancel our plan for next Friday," she counters. "And no stupid boyfriend third wheeling us."

Izuku quickly nods his head. If she had wanted his spleen too he would have readily agree to it, because Eri is unrightfully too good for him. All his friends are really. He's lucky he got them to keep him from falling on his face everytime he does something remotely stupid. Always too caught up with chasing after a good story that he ignored all the danger around him, he'd put himself in harm ways enough times to give Eri greying hair and to be rescued by a grumpy hero who found his fumbling criminal investigation annoying if not a little endearing.

Izuku never could figure out how he of all people managed to snare the Ground Zero, when the first time they'd met Izuku was hanging off a ledge sixty feet off the ground and Katsuki was about to drop him flat onto the concrete slab because he thought Izuku was a part of the League of Villains and the reason why sixteen young girls were missing.

It was beyond a memorable first meeting for them both, and fortunately it wasn't to be their last either.

Katsuki snorts, scooting his chair back. "You're schoolmates," he grumbles, and there's a note of derision in his voice. "You see him even when you don't want to see him." With their joint hands, he tugs Izuku upward and out of his seat with him.

"At least Izuku doesn't have to schedule an appointment with the front office just to see me," she rebukes, eyes flashing. "I mean, wow, must be so hard for you to make time for your own boyfriend."

Katsuki freezes, his hand tightening around Izuku's own. He can feel heat emanating from Katsuki's palm, pressing up against his bare skin danger close but Izuku doesn't break their hold.

"Eri!" Izuku scolds, frowning and Eri has grace to look chastised for a second.

He turns back to Katsuki and gives a comforting squeeze. "I understand," he is quick to assure him. "Your work is much more important." Izuku gets it, because Katsuki is out there putting bad guys in jail and saving people's lives. It's crucial work that keeps this city on track even if these days he can only seem to catch glimpses of Katsuki in the news because he’d slow down on hounding the streets for new lead of criminal activities and updating his crime blog.

Izuku may pretend like he's doing some kind good work out there but he doesn't forget. His investigations can only get him so far when he has no quirk or strength to back it up. The one actually doing the heavy lifting out there are heroes like Katsuki, who’d personally fight all of Izuku's demons and keep Izuku alive and breathing so he can hunt the next big bad menacing the city.

Izuku is no hero. He isn't out there saving people from rampaging villains or protect the country from being run amok by the League. His world is much smaller. He just wants keep Eri from people trying to abuse her quirk or save a kid from being another Kouta out there.

"It's not," Katsuki asserts, pulling Izuku in till he's nearly stumbling into his side. He scowls down at Izuku. "Stop fucking putting yourself down, shitty nerd."

"You're giving him mixed signals here," Eri says dryly. "You can't say something nice and then call him names. You're not very good for Izuku's self esteem, Zero-san."

Even the way she'd tacked on that honorific at the end, it was layered with doubt. Eri is always polite and respectful up until the point she isn't and even then she keeps her guard up. Maybe it’s because of her yakuza backgound and how people had used her for her quirk in the past, but she didn't have a lot of friends to begin with and those whom she do consider friends, she's extremely protective of. Izuku is lucky she's even consider he’s worthy enough remain by her side.

  Katsuki's eyes flash to her in a hard glare as Eri meets it dead on unrepentantly. "Shut the fuck up," he hisses, carding his free hand through his hair in frustration. Eri's words seem to have hit its mark.

"Eri," Izuku pleads, turning to her with desperation, "don't."

Eri sighs and waves them off. "Fine, fine, I won't harassed you anymore," she says with an easy shrug. "You may take Izuku-sempai and go, but do bring him back in one piece or I'll have to call upon my grandfather." It's not an idle provocation. They all know who her grandfather is. Katsuki, who always buttheads with Eri, may find her grating at times but never scary. Not of her quirk or her grandfather. Not then, and certainly not now either. It's an admirable quality of Katsuki that Eri had admitted to liking one night in the hush of his dorm room. He bares his teeth at her, sharp edges and full of bites. "Oh, don't bother, I'll be happy to meet your dear old man later when he's behind bars with the rest of his yakuza cohorts," he says, cut for cut. Vicious barb for vicious barb. He's merciless.

Eri stands up abruptly. "Hey, you—!" But the rest of her sentence is cut off when Katsuki drags Izuku away.

"Don't worry, I'm only half fucking with you, brat," he throws over his shoulder, voice alight in laughter as Eri makes a muffled scream of frustration.

"That's mean," Izuku murmurs, bumping Katsuki's shoulder meaningfully.

"And she isn't?" he counters, raising his brow at Izuku. "I'm not going to be nice to her just because you adopted her like a damn stray. If she wants to pick a fight with me that badly, I'm going to give it my all."

"She's just protective, you know," Izuku says, strolling hand in hand with Katsuki through the quad area of the campus. Trying not to pay attention to several people stopping midtrack and nearly breaking their neck as they realize who's walking beside him. Katsuki makes a grunt of acknowledgment. "Good. She should be if she got a trouble magnet like you as friend."

Izuku's feet skid to a halt, pulling Katsuki to a stop with him. Katsuki turns to him with a befuddled expression. "You like her!" he accuses, absolutely delighted.

Katsuki's face flash in horror. "No!" he yells, flustered. "Fuck no! I don't like that little witch."

"It's okay, I'll keep your secret," Izuku teases.

Katskuki scowls as he leans closer in. "Shut your dirty mouth or I'll do it," he says, and kisses Izuku to that effect before he can say anything about it.

Izuku’s knees doesn’t buckle under the careful attention Katsuki’s mouth gave him; his tongue teases and prods at Izuku until Izuku is completely compliant in his hands. How unfair, he think, face flushed and lips throbbing from the bruises of Katsuki’s kiss as Katsuki draws back with a smirk on his face.

Izuku clears his throat and looks away for a second as he regains his bearings. “D-do you need me for something?” he asks. Surely, Katsuki isn’t here on his campus just to take him out to eat right? “Is there a case you want me to look into?”

Katsuki frowns, brows pinching as annoyance flickers pass his face. “No. I want to grab lunch with you because I fucking miss you,” he grumbles a surly as always, but his words punch leaves him breathless.

“Oh,” he says, eyes rounded with surprise.

He thinks of all the time Katsuki seems larger than life, this great and famed hero who save the world again and again, this unattainable man is more like a figment of Izuku’s dreams than anything, so how could he ever be with someone so boring and ordinary like Izuku? But, when Katsuki say something like this and Izuku hopes, oh, how hope burns with him, because slowly but surely, Katsuki would come to love him just as much as Izuku does one day. One day that will come.

[kayteewritessteve]

Beautifully Unfinished - 6/8

Description: One foolish outburst, one moment of weakness at the worst possible time, and everything goes up in smoke. Who knew finally voicing your true, deep-rooted feelings, would lead to the complete destruction of your most cherished friendship?

Masterlist HERE.

Word Count: 3,450 ish.

Pairing: Modern!Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: PG.

Warnings: Curse words. Lots of angst. But if you’ve read my stories before, then you know how this will end.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

Adulthood.

You make your way down the long hall to your suite door, it’s a little later than usual, as you stayed at work late to finish up a few things. Not wanting to leave them for Monday You to have to suffer through. It’s Friday night now, AKA BFMMN™, and the last few months your traditional friends group night has been going full force. None of you missing a single Friday in the last 6 months.

It’s been 9 months since you all graduated and started your careers. It took you all about 3 months to fully settle in and get the swing of things. But after that initial transition time, you all had more free time and were able to pick up your Friday night plans again. Plus you were all able to see each other more in general during the week as well, it was wonderful to have your guys back again. You’d missed them, and little updates here and there via text just wasn’t cutting it for you.

You approach your suite door, and instantly hear muffled voices on the other side. Now most people would probably freak out if they returned to their apartment after work, and heard voices behind the door. Especially if they lived alone like yourself. But you know those voices entirely, and knew the guys would be here when you got home, as they both have a key to your place and this was how every Friday night went. Except normally you’d be here when they arrived, but today, not so much.

You open the door, knowing they’d have left it unlocked for you and are just about to yell hey when you hear the hushed voices a little more clearly. Your words halting in your throat at the tone both men are using, it’s their pissed off tones and your curious what they are bickering about now.

They bicker like an old married couple, they always have, both guys being far too outspoken and comfortable with each other. Plus both are ridiculously stubborn and bullheaded, in their own ways, and when they want to be. It’s rather frustrating for you, when you have to go up against one of them in that state. But if you’re being totally honest, it’s hilarious when they go head to head with each other. You normally stay all the way out of it, and just sit back to quietly allow them to work it out on their own.

Though sometimes you’ll step in, if you feel the issue is going nowhere and they will just end up at an angry stalemate. Or the odd time that you side strongly with one of them, then you’ll pipe up and voice your opinions on the issue. But it’s a pick your battles sort of situation, and they always work it out, with or without your help or say on the matter.

You quietly close the door, locking it and tiptoeing to just before the living room entrance, not wanting to give yourself away just yet. At least not before you can figure out what the issue is this time.

“Just drop it, Buck,” Steve exasperatedly whispers. “It’s done, and I’m happy about it. I’m not going to put a damn grenade in the middle of my life, just because you have these unfounded and unrealistic beliefs. I love her, end of story.”

“You may ‘love’ her, but you aren’t in love with her. And you never will be, we both know it. And don’t give me this ‘I’m happy’ bullshit, we also both know that you aren’t, you’re just lying to yourself,” Bucky quickly fires back. “Why are you doing this? Why are you letting it go this far?”

“I am happy,” Steve growls, which doesn’t really prove his case and flat out contradicts his words. “But I can’t stand this shit, we always fight about this. Why can’t you just let this go already. Why can’t you see that this is what I actually want?”

“Because it’s not, and don’t act like I don’t know you inside and fucking out,” Bucky scoffs, clearly offended. “We both know what you really want, Punk, I’ve only said it about a thousand times. And marrying that woman ain’t it,” he bluntly says. “Give ya damn head a shake, she ain’t right for you. She’s never been, and she never will be, and you know damn well exactly why.”

“I can’t have this fucking conversation with you anymore. I’m marrying her and either you get on board with that, or you don’t, but keep it to ya damn self from here on out. Because it isn’t going to change anything, I already proposed and she already accepted. It’s done, now just drop it. Please.”

You freeze at his words, your heart plummeting to the hardwood floors beneath you—no, further than that! Plummeting to the damn ground floor of your apartment, 8 whole stories down. You feel your eyes start to prickle, Steve is engaged. Fuck, you didn’t even know he was planning to propose. Shit! You didn’t even know he was thinking about it for crying out loud.

You blink quickly and take a few silent steps back, quietly unlocking the front door and slipping back out into the hallway. You’ve heard enough—too much, actually. And now you just need a moment to collect yourself before you face your two best friends, head on.

They have no idea you were eavesdropping, and you want it to stay that way, so you have to get your emotions in check, and fucking fast at that.

After a few moments, and some deep breaths that do little to quell your shattering heart, you force yourself to plaster on your best fake smile and re-enter your suite. Promptly slamming the door just enough for the guys to hear and know you are ‘just getting home.’

“GUys?” You call out, your voice cracking on the vowel and you cringe. Ugh! Like who even still suffers from voices cracks this long after ending puberty! You, clearly. You clear your throat as you remove your jacket to hang it and your purse, up on the coat hooks by the door. “You both here already?” No voice crack this time, thank God.

Your ears pick up a few rushed, and hushed voices going back and forth, but you can’t make the words out this time.

“Yeah, Doll. We’re in the living room,” Steve hollers back, and then the hushed voices start up again. The guys are clearly still arguing about Steve’s engagement, obviously they weren’t quite finished but you’ve already inserted yourself into the mix so they will just have to be done for now. Unless they continue it on with you present, which is highly unlikely from what you can gather, and you thank fuck for that. You don’t want to be apart of this topic, not one fucking bit.

Well, at least not tonight anyways, you need some time for the news to sink in first. You need some alone time to cry and come to terms with it before you are forced to comment or partake in this topic. Now all you can do is pray they drop it and leave it the fuck alone for tonight. God, that’s all you ask for in this moment.

You remove your shoes, and take a deep breath before venturing into the war zone—eer, you mean your living room. And as you do, you see Bucky sitting up on your couch, leaning on his knees, and Steve standing by your large living room window. Both guys look towards you as you enter, the blonde giving you a smile that you know is forced, but you ignore that. And the brunette looking at you sceptically, as if he can tell you heard something you weren’t supposed to. As if he can read your currently dazed and frazzled mind.

But you just ignore that as well, and pretend you are perfectly fine. You aren’t supposed to know a damn thing, so you’ll just run with that cover.

“How’s my guys today?” You ask, as you force a smile of your own.

“Good,” Steve says quickly.

“Yeah, fine,” Bucky says right after, still giving you the side eye.

“So convincing,” you say sarcastically with an eye roll, but you don’t give them a chance to comment back and quickly go to change the subject. “What are we thinking for food? Chinese? Thai? Pizza?” You ask hopefully, as you move towards your kitchen to grab your various take out menus. “If you can’t tell, I’m freaking starving,” you say with a giggle, trying your best to lighten the awkward and gloomy tension.

Bucky chuckles, “you’re always starving.”

“Ain’t that the damn truth,” you sigh, returning to the living room and plopping down on the couch by Buck, menus in hand. “So. Food. What’s it gunna be?”

Steve smiles and shakes his head at you, as he makes his way towards your arm chair. “Whatever you feel like, Doll. You know we ain’t picky.”

“At least not like you are,” Bucky grumbles, playfully elbowing you.

“I’m not that picky, ya Jerk,” you defend, elbowing him back. “I just like what I like. So sue me.”

“I just might, I could use some extra play money,” he says through a grin as he elbows you again.

You scoff, “why, so you can buy more ridiculous clothes? You’re worse than a woman.” And because of who you are as a person, you also elbow him again, but more forcefully this time.

He flinches, and shoots you an indignant glare. “Wanting to look good isn’t ‘ridiculous’, Y/N,” he defends, then pokes your shoulder. “And I’ll have you know, that many men take their looks more seriously these days. Not just me. Be more open minded, would ya?”

“Awe, did your therapist tell you that, to ease your troubled mind?” You chuckle then poke his shoulder in return, “and I am completely open minded. Thank you very much.”

“No, but she did tell me that donating my time to the less fortunate would make me feel better about myself. And she was right, I do feel better about myself afterwards.” He gives you a once over, before pointedly locking eyes with you and smirking, “with that said, want to get coffee tomorrow, ya closed-minded little asshole? I need the ego boost.”

You give him a dry look, “no, you don’t. At this rate I’ll have to get a bigger apartment, just to fit your whole damn ego into my,” you trail off, your eyes locking onto a part of his hair. Fixating on that one spot.

Bucky narrows his eyes at you, asking suspiciously, “what are you looking at?”

You snort, snapping your eyes away from his hair, “nothing, nothing.”

“Spit it out, Y/L/N.”

“You been a little stressed lately, Buck?”

“What does that matter?”

“Oh, ya know, you just got a few rather juicy grey hairs coming in,” you point to the spot you were looking at before. “I like that you’re so okay with having them on display at your age. But the salt and pepper look really works for you, and the girls must really dig the whole ‘Daddy’ vibe.”

Bucky gasps and goes to snap back, but Steve beats him to it with a loud, overly dramatic sigh. “Would you both quit it? You’re like freaking siblings. One minute you’re all lovey dovey, and the next you’re shooting to kill. I’m getting fucking whiplash over here.”

You glance over at Bucky, barely able to contain your smirk and holding your hand out. “Pay up, fucker. I won this round.” He groans loudly, but pulls out his wallet and hands you 5 buckeroos, as is the deal.

Steve scoffs, “You guys still play that stupid game?”

You laugh, looking back to him as you tuck your newly acquired fiver into your pocket. “As long as we can continue to piss you off with it, we’ll continue to play it.”

“Plus someone has to fund her damn coffee addiction,” Bucky playfully adds, slinging an arm over the back of the couch behind you.

You laugh, then focus back on the real issue here. Food. “So, Chinese then?”

Steve snorts and Bucky hums, tapping a finger on his chin, “I dunno. I was kind of feeling Indian.”

You gasp, “I didn’t even think of Indian! Oh no,” you groan, then whine out, “now I can’t decide!”

“Way to go, Jerk,” Steve says playfully as he shakes his head.

Bucky bursts out laughing and picks up the Chinese menu, “on second thought, Chinese sounds best.”

You think that over for a second, then nod, “yeah, you’re right. Chinese, it is.”

Once you’ve called and placed your order for delivery, you pick out a movie. Well, Bucky does as it’s his turn to pick one, regardless of how much Steve or yourself bitch and groan about him always picking the same movie. You’ve all watched it so many damn times that you literally know every word off by heart. For the whole freaking movie, start to finish.

“Space Jam is a damn classic!” Bucky defends his choice. “You uncultured swines!”

“It is a classic, no one is refuting that!” You quickly say. “We have just watched it so many damn times! Can’t you pick something else for once? Please, for the love of all things that are holy, pick a different movie!” You aren’t above begging at this point.

“Y/N’s right, Buck,” Steve agrees. “We’ve watched that movie once a month since it came out, let’s watch something else this time, maybe?”

Bucky glares daggers at you both, before sighing loudly. “Fine! Then we will watch Fight Club.”

“Ugh, I hate that freaking movie,” you groan, “but I’ll take anything over Space Jam, at the moment. Even fucking Fight Club.” You narrow your eyes at the brunette standing on the other side of your living room looking at your wall of DVD’s. “You just have the worst taste in movies. You know that, right? You’re aware of that?”

He scoffs, “not as bad as your taste in them. Pretty Woman, really? Ya know, I used to have dreams with Julia Roberts in them. And not because I found her hot, but because we watched that movie so many times that her face was etched into my mind.”

“Take that back!” You gasp.

“I won’t,” he crosses his arms, “I meant every word.”

“Pretty Woman is a fantastic fucking movie! It’s the best ‘two worlds collide’ love story that there ever was! And Julia Roberts is a damn fox! So don’t pretend like you wouldn’t have had dreams about her anyways. We all know how depraved your little mind truly is.”

He opens his mouth but you don’t give him a chance to speak, “and furthermore, you are comparing a true 90’s classic romcom, with 2 hours of Edward Norton talking about his shitty life, and Brad Pitt shirtless? I mean, I’m okay with that last one,” you trail off, making an overdramatic ‘Oooh, got it’ face. “Never mind, I just figured out why you like that movie so much, you perv.”

“Okay, okay, wave the white flag already,” Steve sighs. “Geesh you two, break it up before someone gets hurt. Or ya know, I lose what little sanity I have left,” he grumbles the last part quietly, but you hear him anyways.

You grin and stick your hand out at Bucky once again, causing him to groan loudly and drop his head back in exasperation. “Stevie, buddy, come on already! You are gonna make me poor! Can’t you pipe up just once after I say something!” He picks his head back up to look at Steve. “Just once, that’s all I’m asking for here. It’s like you two are working,” he trails off as he shoots a glare at you, then your still outstretched hand, then Steve before his eyes land back on you and narrow. “You’re working together to doop me out of my hard earned money, aren’t you?”

“What? We would never!” You feign shock just to bug him, and truth be told, you weren’t actually working with Steve. That would have been a fantastic idea though, had you thought of it first! But now that Bucky put it out there, it’s no longer an option, he’d be too suspicious now. “But no, seriously, I’d never cheat against you,” you say honestly, then smirk, “because I wouldn’t need to, I’m naturally just better at this game than you are. Face it.”

“I’m not paying you this time,” Bucky says adamantly, with his stupid arms still crossed.

“Fine,” you grumble, pouting as you drop your hand back down. But then your smirk returns tenfold, “I’ll just add it to your tab then.”

“Like Hell—“

Steve groans loudly, cutting Bucky off as he gets up and takes the Fight Club DVD out before putting it into the player. “Okay, that’s enough of this game for tonight. Both of you are driving me insane with this shit.” He grabs the remote and gets to the movies main menu before looking pointedly between the two of you, “I’m pulling a temporary Rule Card, no more ‘Stevie Snappie’ for tonight. Got it?”

You gape at him, “wait, you know the name of the game?” Then you look up at Bucky and narrow your eyes, “you told him the name!?”

“It wasn’t me,” Bucky shakes his head. “It must have been you!”

“Jesus Christ. It was neither of you,” Steve says exasperatedly. “I overheard you guys arguing about it back in grade 10.”

“You’ve known this whole time?” You question, wide eyed. “And you’ve never said anything about it before tonight?”

“Don’t act surprised, you both aren’t very stealthy about hiding the game from me. You ask for payment right in front of me,” he shakes his head. “Every time.”

“Oh, we don’t care if you know about the game, Stevie,” Bucky says and he comes to retake his spot beside you on the couch. “But the name was sacred. We both vowed to take it to our graves.”

“Well, you failed, because I’ve known all along,” Steve says as he pushes play. “Now both of you zip it, and watch the damn movie.”

“The damn shitty movie,” you correct, but one glare from Steve has you snapping your mouth shut and nodding to tell him you’ll keep your mouth shut from here on out.

The rest of the night went off without a hitch, at least while the guys were still here. The food had arrived shortly after you started the movie. You and Buck had abided by Steve’s temp Rule, and ceased on the fake bickering for the remainder of the night. But just for the night, you both secretly needed this game to keep you sharp and on your come back toes, so it would pick back up. Just on a different night, as Steve’s wrath was no joke, and neither of you wanted to be on the receiving end of it. Not even a little bit.

You had kept all your groans and mumbling insults towards the shitty movie to yourself, and once it was over you all had decided to watch Home Alone. That movie was a fan favourite for the three of you, and never caused any bickering arguments. Why you didn’t just start with a movie like that, was beyond you.

After that one ended, around midnight, the guys called it a night and both headed out. And the moment the door closed behind them, you locked it and promptly flopped down on your bed. You spent the rest of the early morning hours crying, and feeling sorry for yourself. Which was a first in a while, you hadn’t actually cried once in the last 9 months.

But the news of Steve’s engagement took all the wind out of your sails. No, wrose than that, it ripped your heart directly from your chest, and then just for good measure, it stomped all over it. Ya know, just to ensure it was truly and completely broken beyond repair this time.

You ended up spending the entire weekend in bed, once again. But come Monday morning, you dragged your ass out of your makeshift hidey-hole, showered and band-aided your heart back into one piece. And as you opened up the door to your suite, you plastered that all too familiar fake smile on your face, and continued to pretend like you were okay. Like you were fine. Like you weren’t in love with your, now engaged, best friend.

I know that I should not hold on, so why can't I let go?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

@caps-lockdown @boxofteenageideas @giggleberts @strawberry-gothchild @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @steeeeverogers @zombiepotterfour @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx @gwynethjodie @lollipopdomination @capstopavenger @jemimah-b99 @rcvenqers @justkending @alagalaska @silent-loucidity @sabertooth-potato @pies-wands-and-more @interstellarmess @gabriella69816 @phantom-soilder @viarogers @kaithezaftig @the-kinkiest-goblin @hysterically-original @badassbeckettswan @heyiamthatbitch @zlixlle @givemehopenfandoms @pretendingandpreposterous @frozen-phoenix17 @emotionallysalty @saturngirlz @atomicsludgedonutbiscuit @bohemian-barbie @marvelous-capsicle @ivoryhazlewood @cjhorseback @jessiedaeum @capricornprince118 @pinkleopardss @drayshadow @wiserebelpartypie @dark-night-sky-99 @patzammit @cs-please @troublermalik @anika-ann @wxstedhexrt @rynabarnesrogers

[lux-talks-a-lot]

New Episode Reactions!!! Pt 1

AHHH, I have so many feelings ya'll!! This episode was so awesome and the art was absoulty suberp! Thomas and the whole crew worked so hard to get this out and it really paid off! I just wanted to run through all the amazing things in this ep now that I've watched it once!

I'm warning you now this is mostly just me gushing about amazing and great everything is because it's very amazing and great! Strap in for spoiler central!!!

First of all the thumbnail is just amazing

Starting off with Thomas being incredibly relatble and awkward, we love to see it!

ROMAN!!!!

VIRGIL!!!!!

I love that this confirms that the sides just pop up in Thomas's day to day life and bully him, it's great

Side notw: I love how the artists drew Thomas in this, he looks adorable

OMG prinxiety poping out the godamn clothing hanging thing to call thomas old makes me very happy

I love that this whole episode is Virgil and Roman bonding, it is fabulos.

"DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT I LOVE YOU MEANS TO THEM?"

"You told me to say it!"

"STOP PLAYING YOU PEOPLE'S HEARTS THOMAS"

I love this so much

There is a whole lot of lying here but I have yet to spot a single snake boi :(

I know Jan had a whole thing last episode but like... I miss him :(((

HEART EYES ROMAN!!!!! BEING SO GODAMN DRAMATIC!!!! I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

"*long poetic description of feelings*"

"What?"

"*SIGH* Cutie at twelve-o-clock."

Prinxeity's dual calling of bullshit when Thomas says he's not interested

WHY IS ROMAN ME WHEN I SEE A CUTE GIRL IN PUBLIC

Virgil pulling fucking boniculars just out of nowhere

"He's got some stickers on his laptop."

"Pretty gay~" *finger gun*

Virgil laying down introvert laws on stickers is great and very true (in unrelated news, I need to buy more stickers for my laptop)

Nico's a disney fan too!!!!

I kind of love that it was the Nightmare Before Chrismas sticker that sealed the deal for them because it's something that's very Roman and also very Virgil

Also how can you not take that sticker as clear sign from the universe that this will end in roman and happily ever afters, I'm with Roman here (when am I not tho?)

"You can live like Jack and Sally..."

I don't why Virgil calling Roman doofus is so funny and dorky to me but it is and I love it. I want them to get along but I want to keep the banter and little insults that don't mean much

"Why forget your spectacles at the retirment home?"

"Those jokes are getting old..."

"You would know..."

I love the gentle bullying

YOU SEE SOME BUTTONS; YOU BUTTON IT!!!!!

PINTERVERTS!!!!

THIS IS WHY I LOVE SEEING THESE INTERACTING!!!!

Seeing Roman and Virgil with the head sets and mics really makes me want to like make a rodio hosts AU, they'd defintly be interesting pair to listen to. Oh! or like a podcast thing or something! I'd listen to it!

Also the backseat driving from prinxiety is great

"I'M NOT MAX! I'M PRINCE ROMAN -"

Also that godamn, you got five seconds thing gave ME anxciety

"great."

"great indeed."

"GREAT INDEED!"

boiled. mayo. carrots. what the heck thomas.

"The only logical next step. Go home and regret everything." Virge, buddy, pal, chill for like five seconds.

"No man!"

"Uh, it's RO-man. With an R? You're really struggling today."

Ro, buddy, pal, princey, never change.

"When it comes to anti-social etiquette, I'm a triple expert. An ex-ex-expert!"

"Easy tiger" This is flirting right? This is defintly flirting. They are flirting!

GAY EYES!!!!

Roman doing the gay eyes and the little noises AHHHH, I'm dying, i'm deceased, my ghost is writing this

Side note: I'm really tempted to become a patron just to see the live action version of this scene alone, imagine my friends, imagine

Gay eyes have never worked for me either

DISASTOR!

"No DO look at youself Thomas. Because that was a test and you failed!"

"You were testing me!?!?!"

"Oh no, I was just panicking."

I love them

I also love all of Virgil's instenseness in this episode because honestly very relatable to my own anxiety but also the art was just really great

 “If you don’t have anything nice to say... you’re a dirty lier.”

God the whole pretend you’re leaving was so funny and gave me such secondhand embrassement, it was so good

“I hate to rain on your black parade, Gerard Gay -”

I missed him and his nicknames SO MUCH

Virgil and Roman literally pulling Thomas around and making him sit and stand is just so funny to me. it’s like Roman and Logan fighting over control of Thomas’s arms

“You’re making a mistake!”

“If I am I’ll add it to the list!”

Oh. My heart. Roman, darling, no -

Again with the pushing, guys

This poor random passerby who got accosted by Thomas’s awkwardness. I hope they had a good day at the mall at least

THE TRASH CAN!!!!

I love that it’s not just Thomas in the trash can but all three of them

This is another scene I would LOVE to see live action

“You were being a baby about the buttons and the pins had you panicking.”

It’s nice to see Roman helping Thomas get clean in the bathroom

“He’s got birds on the brain! You don’t wanna wing it, Virge? Alright let’s drum up a plan!”

I love the puns but I love Roman trying to help Virge feel better about this more even tho they didn’t end up going with this

“It’s like cyber-stalking but real life”

“So... stalking”

“... OH YOU’RE RIGHT!”

Virgil, sweetie, you’re doing amazing

“Speaking from the heart” Patton, buddy, is that you?

THE MONOLOGUE!!!!

“The mall is where you go when you don’t know what you want because the mall has everything...”

Roman’s face at that line really killed me fam. He is going through some stuff, huh

Actually Roman’ and Virgil’s faces during the whole speech really killed me

OMG THE DUDE IN THE BATHROOM!!!!

All those theories about the next ep being Ro & Virge bonding through mutual dislike of Janus were sorta right

Also it’s interesting that Virgil is clearly talking about Janus but is still calling him Deciet

Also generally enjoying the calm Prinxeity team up and discussion for once

“No, he’s better off without me.”

AH no, thomas!

Damn I’m so used to Sides Angst the character thomas angst really hit me by the wayside

GAY PANIC

NICO!!!!!

“HE FEARS THINGS TOO!?”

THE GAY PANIC!!!!

“I THINK I SAW A LOT OF WIDE VOWELS?”

“NEVADA????”

“MORE THAN THAT!”

“ANACONDA?????”

“ANACONDA!!!!! HE’S A NIKKI MINHAJ FAN!!!!”

They are such disaster gays

Mishearing the guy and then instead of asking for a repeat, just going along with it is so terribly terribly relatable but god the second hand embrasment

“another chance at happiness squandered.”

break my heart why doncha ya

 The whole sequence of Virgil noticing Roman being so godamn sad and miserable and watching Nico walk away and his breathing speeding up and the wide eyed panic before he pushes thomas is literally my favorite part of the whole damn video! that wasn’t easy for him to do but he did it. for roman and thomas. so that didn’t squader another chance. he was so brave and i’m so proud of him

I really love Nico! He seems so chill and adorable and he took thomas’s flutered rambling so well! and he’s a writer!!! and he winked at thomas!!!

Mr. Florez!!!!

He’s writing a song!!!!!

The song explanation calling thomas out is kind of adorable

this whole meet cute is kind of adorable

“THAT WAS YOU?” “ARE YOU OKAY?”

brusied ego, aw does that mean Patton’s gonna be taking care of Ro like the last time Thomas got a brusied ego

MY SECOND FAVORITE PART OF THE VIDEO: Ro’s soft little “Shut up, emo” and the little hearts and his hand on Virgil’s shoulder and Virgil’s little smile at him and the whole calling Virge brave!!! It was all so so so good!!!!

End Card Time!!!!!

Thomas calling Roman a punk is adorable

Also Janus’s Corridor Of Stored Rewards!!! Amazing

Everyone coming back all excited and giddy really matched my own excitement and giddiness and I love it

LITERAL SCREAMS OF JOY

Virgil’s purple sparkly eyeshadow because he’s happy is so so pure and amazing and I kind of want to try out that look myself

“Thomas I’m gonna need you to walk around the entire room - yes thank you- that helps somehow”

even more things to project onto Virgil with, thank you

I haven’t seen Virgil smile this much in one episode before and it is really watering my crops, clearing my skin, rasing my grades, saving my whole ass year -

The dark eyeshadow returning at Thomas’s subtweet is great and very relatable

Virgil asking what is things are never the same again but with light eyeshadow and the clearly more hopeful outlook on things makes me so very happy

I love Roman being excited but like we don’t see virgil so giddy nearly as often and it’s just so heartwarming

Roman trying to get them to go to France on V-day and Virge actually going along with the idea!!!

Virgil telling Thomas to do the happy flappies!!!!

Virgil’s face at ‘are u ready for this’ kills me

But the deepening panic voice when the dog barks and his reaction to Ro telling him to relax was great

in summary: I though based on the title this was going to be the other sides flirting with Virgil and honestly I wasn’t that far off

[almaasi]

reaction post typed whiles watching SPN 15x10 “The Heroes’ Journey”

Dean fantasises about tap dancing with a lamp that has a halo shape....... HMM,,

--

04:44pm

i saw the preview last week and still couldn’t tell ya what this episode’s about. but i get the impression it’ll be lighthearted with a whoops-relevant-to-the-plot arc vibe. LET’S FIND OUT

-

04:51

me: obviously rooting for the woman of colour over the white dude

me: VICTORIOUS

but worried something bad is gonna happen

-

okay......... title card..... might be safe for now

-

04:52pm

we open on a place called “berens’ kwik tr*p”

* in the place of some vowel but while i imagine it means “trip” since that’s what’s on the window, it could just as easily be “trap”

plus there’s the fact that i read “kwik trip” as “kink top” for some unknown reason

beer symbolism people: margiekugel’s lager, tagline “she goes”, apparently

followed by shultz (?) beer inside

-

SAM FOR FUCK’S SAKE HAVE YOU HEARD OF oVEN mIttS

-

SAM YOU’RE STRESSING ME OUT SO BADLY OH MY GOD HAVE YOU NEVER BEEN IN A KITCHEN BEFORE

............probably not now that i think about it. dean was always the caregiver

-

04:59

i paused on the basket that the shop dude teddy removed from dean, expecting to see porn, except DEAN WAS BUYING A PIE MAGAZINE

-

05:03

garth’s kid is like :/

the expression of both these babies is priceless

-

05:04

garth to dean: “you smell so good~”

10/10 this is the quality content i’m here for

-

THE OTHER KID IS DEFINITELY NOT NAMED DEAN AND DEAN IS GONNA BE UPSET

-

CASTIEL HOLY SHIT

did garth ever even meet cas

I’M SJKGJDF

but also like. sam+cas=bros

-

garth should give dean the pep talk about settling down with cas

-

05:11

dean’s never been to a dentist and his teeth look like THAT ??? damn

he’s so high maintenance though

-

this entire thing is both amusing and nightmarish

-

so dean’s high and hallucinates himself dancing with a guy OKAY

-

dean started tap dancing and i started cooing completely involuntarily

-

UM???? DEAN STARTED DANCING WITH A LAMP??? AND THE LAMP HAS A HALO SHAPE???????????

edit: but also like. garth was there (a man, so we discover his partner’s preferred gender). and then POOF GARTH’S GONE and dean’s alone but he still wants a partner so he picks a lamp. a b oy lamp ????

dean’s entire existence was so damn queer in this episode can we talk about that

-

k the shot at the end where he bows his head and touches his hat is probably among my favourite shots of dean of all time, immediately

-

oh my god garth’s describing 50 shades of grey isn’t he

-

05:21

bess claws brad to get him to talk and i love her

-

if they haven’t used some weapon in 4 years maybe they haven’t oiled it or whatever. oh no

-

05:31

sam: “so could we ever actually pick locks or was it chuck this whole time????”

 SAM ASKING THE REAL QUESTIONS

-

05:36

i think dean’s kinda into garth being So Strong tbh

-

garth better not die

-

DEAN’S HOLDING BABY CAS AND SAYS “THIS CAS KEEPS LOOKIN AT ME WEIRD” OH MY GOD I DON’T KNOW HOW TO REACT

-

“so kinda like the real cas”

HOOOOOOOLY SHIT WAS NOT EXPECTING THAT OH MY GOD 

sam knows eeeeeverything

-

05:43

now i’m wondering what cas is doing in heaven, and if he’s Normal too. he’s already clumsy and unlucky, what would even happen. bad hair day probably

-

DEAN TELLING GARTH HE SMELLS NICE TOO

THIS BOY IS SO BI HOLY MACKEREL

-

05:46

i’m pretty sure they’re going to alaska because that’s the last state on the map that the winchesters haven’t been to in 15 seasons and the writers wanna cross off every state, totally understandably

-

05:47

THAT WAS A FUN EPISODE

dean....... deanie boy......... face it already, you wanna dance with boys who smell nice, honeybun. and also get married to an angel, as it happens

sam’s line about how cas looks at dean funny....... mmmmmmmmm YES DRAW PEOPLE’S ATTENTION TO IT

i feel like i should have further thoughts but i don’t, my head is all fluffy

10/10 bc i had fun and i’m smiling

also congrats to dj qualls for coming out~

--

edit a while later: WAIT. it just clicked..... garth’s kids were jensen’s kids, right??? i haven’t checked but i only JUST remembered that jensen had twins and then i realised why the girl looked so familiar.

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: The Hat Stealer Pirates Summary: Portgas D. Rouge was a strange Captain, mainly because she kept claiming that Brook was going to be the musician of the future Pirate King. Not the one of the first Pirate King, but the one after. For now, he was pretty happy to be part of her crew though and help her on her search for a good hat. (Or: Monkey D. Luffy doesn’t do normal. Not even reincarnation.) AN: Inspired by that one scene in film Gold where Luffy wears a dress and a hibiscus flower. I blame this on literally everybody who said “go write!!” on my “pls stop me” tumblr post. This is for you. Behold. The plot of this is that Luffy/Rouge wants a hat. That’s it. That’s the story.

Brook didn’t know anyone stranger than his Captain. Portgas D. Rouge was a force to be reckoned with. She was bright, loud and vibrant, never really slowing down. In her own way, she forced people to go along with her pace, never really just inviting them to join her. No, Rouge managed to draw people in, attracting all kinds of attention, by merely existing. Not everyone could stand it though, which was why Brook supposed their crew was so small.

They were barely ten members, Captain and cabin boy included in his count. Brook hadn’t thought Rouge would let a nine-year-old join, but she had shown up with little Mihawk a few weeks ago and the kid had stayed ever since. He was a stubborn little brat, demanding sword lessons from Brook every day and Haki lessons from their Captain right after.

“He’s like a more serious Zoro!” Rouge had chirped, squishing Mihawk’s cheeks to his protest.

Brook didn’t know what a Zoro was, but he trusted his Captain’s word.

She tended to be right about all things dear to her.

X

Kureha hadn’t wanted to join a pirate crew. She had been quite content on Drum island, but then that D. had shown up and Kureha hadn’t been able to say no to the charismatic woman kicking down her door. Not when she had talked about the future with so much sincerity.

“Is it a good place?” Kureha asked one morning.

“The very best! You’ll teach the doctor who can heal any sickness!”

Kureha, despite her appearance or attitude, was an old woman in the sense that she had lived a long life already. Perhaps too long. Sometimes it was difficult for her to look back at the age that was and still believe that the future will be any better.

But in the meantime, if she was supposed to mentor a doctor as kind as this Chopper her Captain described, Kureha should better brush up on her knowledge on sicknesses all beyond Drum. It wouldn’t do if her apprentice weren’t prepared well enough for the storm Rouge betted on.

X

“What about this one?” Heracles said, stealing the hat of the captain of the crew they had just captured.

He handed the orange barrett hat to Rouge.

“Oooh, I like the color!” Rouge exclaimed. “Ace will have one just like that!”

Cheerfully she picked the pink hibiscus flower from her hair and carefully stashed it in the pocket of her red vest. Heracles was reasonably sure that the flower should be dried out by now, but it was still as pretty as the day he had met Rouge for the first time.

Then again, this was the Grand Line.

Their musician was a talking skeleton.

Heracles should stop wondering about all the strange occurrences in these waters.

Rouge tried the hat on, moving it around a few times with a thoughtful expression.

“What the fuck- Urgh!”

Heracles glanced at Mihawk, but the cabin boy didn’t even bother to look apologetic as he pushed Rouge’s kairoseki staff even deeper into the rival Captain’s stomach.

“How do I look?” Rouge asked, semi-content with how the hat was positioned on her head.

If there was one thing Heracles had learned in the past year traveling with his Captain, it was that Rouge valued honesty. No matter how ugly and terrible, she couldn’t stand lies.

“The color fits your freckles,” Heracles replied. “But it’s not your kind of hat.”

Rouge sighed and dropped her arms in defeat. “I knew it. I’ll never find a proper hat!”

She then placed the hat back on the head of their hostage and held out her hand for her staff. They had started confiscating Mihawk’s sword a while back in hopes the kid wouldn’t immediately jump into every battle they faced, but the kid had just opted for stealing an enemy’s sword, building quite the collecting, or Rouge’s staff since she started favoring her fists when the fights became too dull.

Most of their battles had been beneath her level so far.

Heracles had stopped believing she was from a tiny island in South Blue a while ago.

“Did you know you can coat your weapons in Haki?” Rouge asked Mihawk.

The boy nodded eagerly and Rouge grinned, then she took a step back from the captured pirates.

The men whimpered.

“Take good care of your hat!” Rouge shouted and sent them flying with her black staff.

They watched as the other crew landed a couple hundred meters away in the water, their one devil fruit user being held up by the rest of the crew.

“So!” Rouge spoke up again and put her flower back into her hair. “Party now?”

X

“Mihawk,” Rouge said, drawing out the vowels. “You’re not supposed to go on an adventure without me.”

The fourteen-year-old tried to escape Rouge’s hug, but the Captain wouldn’t let go of him. Rouge was an annoying woman, always touching people and trying to make them smile. Mihawk really wasn’t the kind of person who did either and Rouge had seemed to make it her personal mission to shower him in affection.

Thankfully, he had learned how to distract her.

“I brought you a hat!” Mihawk declared and presented Rouge the straw hat he had liberated from a red-haired brat.

The kid had almost made him lose his match with his distracting shouts, he’d had it coming. Besides, Mihawk had needed something to make Rouge forget he’d taken off on his own again. While Rouge had never cared what exactly everyone was up to when they went exploring a new island, she at least wanted to be told when you took off. Mihawk may have ignored that in favor of racing to a sword tournament. He just hadn’t been able to wait! He had won plenty of money too and was willing to buy himself his quiet hours by bribing Rouge with meat.

“That’s a good hat,” Rouge agreed. She looked almost nostalgic. “Where did you get it?”

“I-“

“HEY!”

Mihawk looked past Rouge to see the scrawny red-head from before approach at a rapid speed. So Mihawk hadn’t been able to get rid off the kid.

Damn it.

X

Portgas D. Rouge had been a strange child, always talking about places and people she shouldn’t know of, but had seen in her dreams. The village that had raised her had simply accepted the oddness of the little girl and had moved on. The circumstances under which she had come into their care had already been weird enough, there was no need to question her further.

Rouge herself hadn’t known the truth behind her dreams and the Voice whispering so sweetly in her ears until she had almost drowned at the beach one morning, playing with the other kids.

Baterilla had been so full of adventure before Rouge had choked on saltwater.

Afterward, it had appeared much too dull, simple, and gray for the late Pirate King.

Monkey D. Luffy had lived his life. He had fulfilled his own dream and watched his Nakama reach their goals one by one, joyful smiles spread over their faces.

He’d died in battle like he had wanted, and now he was back again.

And Bored.

Luffy, Rouge, hadn’t wanted to become Pirate King again - and, yes, she would have been King still. That was the proper title and the name Rouge wore now didn’t change that. But without her dream to go chase or her Nakama to support, Rouge felt empty. What was there to do when you had already fulfilled the dream you had pursued all your life?

She and her brothers had sworn to live a life without regrets, so Rouge tried her best to look forward, even if she had a hard time seeing anything interesting at all.

She missed her friends and her family.

And she missed her hat.

Shanks had let Luffy keep it in the end. The Mugiwara Pirates couldn’t really be Straw Hats without their signature symbol after all.

Rouge, on the other hand, didn’t have a hat and had become used to sticking flowers in her hair. They were pretty cool and smelled nice, but they were no hat. The women in the village had called it a shame to cover her beautiful locks with anything. Naturally, Rouge disagreed with that sentiment. Everything was better with a hat, even the hair the women and girls loved to braid. They adored doing that almost as much as they liked sticking her into wide and frilly skirts.

Luffy had only worn skirts and dresses a couple times, they hadn’t suited his fighting style then with his rubber powers. But Rouge hadn’t eaten the Gomu Gomu no Mi, so no rubber limbs were getting tangled in the skirts’ fabric.

Rouge had no devil fruit powers, no hat and no crew and no idea what to do.

Setting sail again had seemed like a good idea. She didn’t know these waters, so maybe there’d be new adventures for her. Rouge would be a horrible Captain if she didn’t make sure that her family would get to live in freedom a little earlier if Rouge pushed the storms in the right direction. Brook was already waiting for someone to hear him play, and she might not be his Captain anymore, and never would be, but she couldn’t let Brook suffer loneliness any longer if she could prevent it.

And somewhere in-between the waves of the sea, Rouge learned how to appreciate swimming, picked up a crew and goal: she wanted a new hat.

And now she was finally looking at it.

Monkey D. Luffy had lived and died, but Rouge was a pirate and pirates were selfish.

And she really, really wanted her hat.

“You can’t have it!” Shanks protested, pointing accusingly at the straw hat. His voice was much too high and he was much too short. “It belongs to my Captain!”

Rouge hadn’t really spent a lot of time thinking about the not yet Pirate King. The Roger Pirates seemed like a fun bunch, though, and she had been meaning to find someone strong to fight.

It had taken a while to adjust to limbs that didn’t stretch endlessly, but once she had managed that, all battles became slightly disappointing. At least Mihawk was on his way to become the World’s Greatest Swordsman (until Zoro took his title) and training him was fun.

“If it belongs to your Captain, why do you have it?” Rouge asked Shanks.

Shanks crossed his arms in front of his chest, blushing red. “Well- I’m holding onto it for him right now! But that doesn’t matter! You have to give it back!”

Rouge twirled her hat in her hands, then tucked her flower behind the hat’s red ribbon and put it on her head. Its weight was familiar, it fit well.

No way she’d give it back now.

“Tell your Captain if he wants it back, he can come and fight me for it!”

“What!? You can’t do that!” Shanks shouted but made no move to attack her.

“I’m a pirate, I can do whatever I want.”

Smiling happily, Rouge turned to walk into the direction of her ship, Mihawk following her. It took only a moment, then Shanks rushed after them, still demanding the hat back. If he made it onto her ship, he’d have to come with them. Heracles and Brook had caused some trouble in the city, the marines would chase them out soon.

Oh, well. Roger was almost at his strongest right now, wasn’t he? He should be able to pick up on Shanks’s disappearance.

Rouge would get to fight the Pirate King. This life had undoubtedly turned out to be an excellent adventure.

Ignoring Shanks and Mihawk’s shouting behind her back, Rouge wondered if defeating him meant that she could take all his supplies too. He was a D. after all, he must have lots of meat on his ship. And if not, she’d make him invite her to the matches between him and Ace’s old Captain. She never got to fight him either!

“Rouge, can I get rid of the brat?”

“Don’t call me a brat, you creepy vampire!”

This life had really turned out to be a great adventure, and it was only getting better.

[scribeofmorpheus]

Counterpart [2/5]

Pairing: Bucky x Reader x Framework!Steve

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Words: 4k

A/N: Just to clear up any confusion, in the Framework the blip and Thanos’s undertaking never happened. Civil War was between Hydra and what was left of Avengers/Shield and the Sokovia Accords weren’t just about registration but an official order branding Shield as terrorists and reinstating the Winter Soldier Program- it passed. Also, Clint has always been Ronin, Hawkeye doesn’t exist in the framework.

Warnings: This chapter contains depictions and mentions of cheating, has drug use, language, slight NSFW and some angst. It’s a dark series, expect a darker take.

Leave a like, comment or reblog-highly appreciated! ☺  Taglist is open

PART TWO: DOPPELGANGERS

~Avengers Compound

"Grrrrrhh!" Bucky flipped the table in a burning fury.

Wanda and Sam looked on at a loss, feeling completely helpless.

"Hey, Bucky try and calm down," Sam said softly.

"How am I supposed to stay calm when she's out there, helpless and alone, knowing it's all my fault?" Bucky shouted.

Wanda took a small step forward, "Bucky, there's no way you could ha--"

"I'm her partner Wanda. We are supposed to keep each other safe! She isn't here right now and it's my fault!" Bucky bit back.

Wanda folded her trembling hands under her poncho as she took a step back, her eyes landing on the cup Y/N had drunk tea from a few hours earlier. Her eyes were sad but lit with fury.

"You think you're the only one who feels responsible? If I hadn’t been so afraid to get on that damned jet, maybe none of this would have happened!"

Wanda's words stung at everyone in the room, making them all flinch at her sudden outburst. The red mist that accompanied her abilities snaked around her form.

Sam unfolded his hands and held them out to try and calm his companions, "Look, let’s all take a breath. We all care about Y/N. We're all worried. But that don't change the fact that all we can do is wait until we get a ping on her location. Fighting isn’t goin’ to change that. Neither will flippin’ furniture."

Bucky let out another guttural shout and connected his non-metal fist into the wall. When his knuckles removed themselves, they were bloodied and the skin was serrated by the shattered wall plaster.

"We don't have time to wait," Bucky said hoarsely. "Those people we found in the submarine. They all flat-lined once whatever that experiment they were part of was completed. If they're doing the same thing to her--"

Bucky slumped to the ground, his head hanging low between his knees as his hands trembled against fists full of hair.

"Screw this!" Wanda stormed out of the room.

"Wanda, where are you going?" Sam asked.

"It'll be a cold day in hell before I lose another person I care about," she said with a vicious tone. "I'm not gonna sit around here and feel sorry for myself. I'm going to talk to someone who actually can help me!"

Then she disappeared, flying out in a brilliant red streak.

Sam sighed, the weight of leading the team was heavier than he was initially prepared for. He felt just as helpless as everyone else right now. If he couldn't be the leader they needed right now, the least he could be was a compassionate shoulder to lean on.

Sam sat down next to Bucky, at first all that filled the room was this perpetual feeling of nothingness- a distinct absence of sound beside ragged breathing and tree branches tapping on plated glass from the strong howling wind. It was almost as though the wind had adapted to their moods; angry, afraid and confused. Then, after a few minutes passed, Bucky spoke with a shaky voice.

"You were right, Sam."

"About?"

"I kept stalling abut asking Y/N to marry me because... I was afraid."

Sam rose his eyebrows in disbelief, "Were you afraid she'd say no? Because, I can tell you now, we can all see how much she loves you. There's no way she'd say no."

Bucky ran a rand through his hair as he looked up at the memorial portrait of Steve dressed in his first Captain America suit. Next to it were portraits of Tony and Nat and Vision. All their faces smiling and proud. Even though it was a way of commemorating all they'd done, of honouring those who fell, Bucky couldn't help but feel their smiles were mocking him right now.

"It's not that," Bucky said. "I was afraid she'd say yes. How fucked up is that?"

Sam let out a deep breath, "Actually, it ain't that fucked up."

"I just couldn't shake the feeling that if I kept putting off asking her, then I could somehow stop this fucked up world we live in from finding some way to ruin one of the last few good things I have left."

“Fucked up world, huh?” Sam's eyes fell on the wall of portraits instinctively, a bitter taste forming in his mouth. "I get it. People like us, we get accustomed to a certain degree of loss. After a while, we begin to anticipate it."

Bucky’s head fell back onto the wall with a light thud, "Yeah, that's round about it. Guess you and I aren't so different, Tin-can."

"Listen, don't take this to mean I want you to buy me matchin' friendship bracelets or braid each other’s hair but…" Sam's fist tapped Bucky's right arm, nudging the frozen stiff soldier. "If you need to talk to someone, once all this is over, I know someone who can help."

Sam's sincere words caused Bucky to swallow loudly. He hated feeling vulnerable. Despite Shuri's great work at undoing what Hydra had done to his fractured mind, he still had a lot of their training ingrained in him. He was trained to be a lone wolf and despite how hard he tried to let people in, it was still something he struggled with. Perhaps that was an old habit he needed to change.

"Thanks, Sam. I might just take you up on that."

"Good, now get some rest. You aren't no good to me or Y/N if you burn yourself out before we get a lock on her co-ordinates."

Bucky sighed, "Alright. You gonna go after Wanda?"

Sam thought on Bucky's question for a moment, "With her firepower, I think she can handle herself."

Bucky groaned as he picked himself off the floor and offered Sam a hand, "That's not what I meant."

Sam grumbled as he dusted his sweatpants once off the floor, "I know. She's angry. I think all this has brought back a lot of pain she's been keepin’ buried. I think, despite how bad the circumstances are, she needs to have an outlet for all that anger. She needs to burnout."

Sam glanced over at the portrait of Vision for a brief pause and then back at Steve's, doubt clouding his usually clear eyes. "Until then..."

Bucky placed his hand on Sam's shoulders, "You're doing proud by him. Don't doubt that. It's a heavy mantle to carry. Steve left behind big shoes to fill. You're a good leader, it just takes time. An adjustment period."

Sam chuckled wistfully and patted Bucky's hand on his shoulder, "Yeah, thanks Bird-man."

Bucky hummed something reassuring but his eyes were still dark, they made him look lonelier than he probably felt. A part of him still found solace in seclusion and that part of him wanted to be alone with his feelings.

Bucky left the room, his slumped shoulders informing Sam of his state of mind despite his attempts to try and act as though he now had things under control.

Sam looked up at Steve's portrait one more time, "We're a mess without you man."

~Elsewhere

The sound of girls playing in the back yard softened Wanda's mood slightly as she approached the wooden porch. The childish laughter and squeals reminded her of Pietro as a young, energetic boy.

Ever since she lost Vision, Wanda had been thinking about Pietro more and more. There was a darkness looming over her and the only time she felt somewhat like herself was during the small moments she and Y/N would share together. The red hue brightening her eyes fizzled out like a worn-out candle's flame.

Wanda felt heavy. Her heart threatened to sink back into sadness at the realisation that she may very well lose Y/N too.

With shaky hands, Wanda's petite, ring covered fingers rapped on the wooden door in slow repetitive stroke.

She didn't know what she was doing here, or why she had thought it a good idea, but she was here and she couldn’t unring this bell.

When the door opened, Wanda's fingers fidgeted slightly as she cleared her throat -her old accent slipping out between vowels from urgency.

"I- I'm sorry to just turn up here. I should have called ahead, b- but… I need your help."

"Something's happened, hasn't it?"

Wanda nodded.

The door swung open wider, letting Wanda into the house.

The water waved and lapped softly against the edges of the tub, toes curled at the end of the tub as your head tilted backwards in euphoric bliss. Steve's warm chest heaved up and down behind you, your body moving with the strong motions of his chest. His hands working tantalising circles around your lower body submerged under the hot water and fizzling out bubbles. The scented candles flooded your senses, numbing the former migraine that once agitated your brain.

Steve's heated breath tickled your ear as he whispered sweet nothings, causing your fingers to wrap around his nape.

"You like that?" He increased the pressure around his fingers making you gasp and move instinctively into his touch. Water spilt over the tub and onto the floor.

"Mmmm, yes," you moaned, toes curling and uncurling.

A low rumble escaped his lips right when they found the nape of your neck and placed suckling kisses on it.

"How about we take this to the bedroom?" He rumbled lowly, desire saturating each word.

"Yessss," you strained against his surgical touch. It was as though he knew your body better than you did.

Steve manoeuvred your body so you were no longer laying above him and he stepped out of the tub, water dripping from his wet body. His muscles seemingly glistening from the light hitting the moisture dripping off him. He turned around and instantly swooped you out of the tub, marching you towards the bedroom with hooded eyes burning across your equally wet body.

***

The coffee maker gurgled loudly as it filled with dark coffee that probably tasted as strong as it smelled. You reached into the fridge for the jug of orange juice and closed the fridge shut with your bare foot.

Steve was dressed in a three-piece suit (minus the tie) that hugged his frame flatteringly while he read the newspaper with a half-eaten plate of pancakes. A sub-headline caught your attention. It read: ‘Silver-Blue Blur Spotted in Sokovia?’

You poured yourself a glass of orange juice and sat back down on the table, a small tablet running through the highlights of the week.

Several headlines read: ‘Hydra Seizes Stark Assets; Director Pierce Re-Instates Winter Soldier Program; The Iron Maiden's Reign of Terror Continues; Peter Parker Still Missing; Asgardian Queen Hela Threatens War; Mischief in Moldova?’

"The Iron Maiden?" You repeated, unfamiliar with the term.

Steve noticed your brow was arched in suspicion, your lips pursed in thought, small dimples forming on your cheeks.

"Hydra believes Pepper Potts is trying to recruit more anarchists into whatever remains of Shield," he said nonchalantly as he took his empty mug and refilled it with more coffee. "Our drones spotted Pietro Maximoff in Sokovia earlier this week. Which is not surprising since this is the anniversary of his sister’s death."

You shook your head, unable to reconcile what he was saying.

"Wanda's dead?" You whispered to yourself so Steve wouldn't hear you.

Another migraine pinched at the base of your skull, causing pain to shoot through your eye while you reached for the orange juice. Your vision doubled as the pain worsened and you knocked the glass over, one hand bracing against your temple as you hissed.

"Ahhggg!" You yelped.

Steve set his Hydra stamped mug on the counter and rushed to your side, cupping your face in his strong hands.

"Again?" He asked with calm eyes but a disturbed face.

"Y-yeah..." you barely managed to get the words out.

Steve rushed to the bedroom and suddenly the image of you and Wanda sitting on a couch with cups held between your fingers came to life across the room like a projection. By the stove, a man with long dark hair looked out through your window, the smell of burning toast tickling your nostrils. The morning light obscuring his reflection.

You glanced down at your ring and felt an insurmountable measure of guilt, when you looked back up the projections vanished, leaving an ashed taste in your mouth. Your thumb kept rotating your ring like a nervous tick, your eyes frantically flickering from the couch to the stove in search of the ghosts you had just seen.

Questions that couldn't be answered screamed inside you as you started to hyperventilate. Why were you and the Scarlett Witch acting like buddies? Who was the man with the blue and gold-tinted metal arm? Why did all this feel more real than the furniture you were sat on? Why was Steve taking so damn, fucking long to get your pills?

"What is going on?" You said in fear, unable to trust your own mind.

As if on cue, Steve came back out with your pill bottle, one small pill already placed on his outstretched palm. You devoured it thankfully and let out an appreciative sigh as Steve kissed your numbing temples.

Steve pulled out his phone and started dialling.

"What are you doing?"

Steve looked at you oddly, "I'm taking the day off, my wife isn't at her best."

You held up your hand to stop him, "Nonsense, your work is more important."

"Hey," he hushed you as he caressed your cheek, "Nothing is more important to me than you and Sarah. Got it?"

You nodded.

"While I disappoint Pierce for the third time this week, why don't you get dressed and sign those papers we talked about. They're in my study."

You nodded again and made your way, sluggishly, towards the bedroom. Steve's muffled words growing lower and lower until you couldn't hear them all together.

***

"Do you consent to hereby becoming the legal guardian of one Sarah Carter-Rogers?" You mouthed out the question on the form.

You ticked the box yes and signed your name on the dotted line as you had done on countless other legal forms.

"Hey sweetheart, can you help me with my tie?" Steve walked in.

"Sure," you sat up from his desk and fastened his tie.

Steve peered over your shoulder, a proud smile creeping over his face when he realised you'd signed the papers.

"Huh," his smiled faltered ever so slightly. "You used your maiden name."

You were surprised by that, "I could have sworn-" you turned to look at the signature, and lo and behold, Steve was right. "Old habits, I guess."

"Hey," Steve brought your eyes to look into his. "Marriage has an adjustment period, and with your migraines, it's easy for your wires to get crossed. Don't worry."

He kissed your forehead affectionately before wrapping you safely in his arms.

"Now come on Mrs Rogers, Sharon's weekend is over. Let's go pick up our daughter," he said with an enthusiastic smile.

***

The Rolls-Royce pulled up into a small driveway leading up to a moderately sized townhouse. Toy's littered the lawn and an unopened newspaper was still lying on top of an unkempt shrubbery bush, dewdrops from the morning's cold air precipitated over the plastic sheet.

Steve stepped out the car, his hand held out for you as you scooched over the leather seats and took hold of his strong hand.

Out of the house burst a young blonde-haired girl no taller than your knee. Her pink backpack made rattling noises as it swayed from one side to the other with her running motions. Behind her, a tired-looking Sharon walked out of the house, her hair cropped short to the point you barely recognised her. Her cardigan pullover wrapped defensively around her thinning frame.

"Huh..." you squinted your eyes, unfamiliar with Sharon's new look.

"What is it?" Steve asked.

"Nothing, I guess I'm just used to seeing her with longer hair," you revealed.

Steve laughed inaudibly as he crouched down waiting for his daughter to crash into him.

"Sarah, honey don't run!" Sharon shouted after her.

Sarah ignored her mother's words and jumped straight into Steve's outreaching arms, "Daddy!"

"Hey, June-bug!" Steve picked her up into a spinning hug.

You watched Steve lighten up as soon as he scooped his little girl into his arms, Sarah's giggling making the morning seem warmer than it was. In the distance, you noticed Sharon stare menacing daggers at you. You flinched and deflected your gaze to the assorted toys getting soaked from the ticking sprinklers.

A throbbing sensation sent gooseflesh up the nape of your neck as a particularly sour memory returned to the forefront of your thoughts.

 Framework>Data Banks> Memories> Memories synchronised: 55%

Sharon looked worse for wear. Her eyes were puffy with dark circles making themselves at home on her face. Her hair tied up in an unkempt greasy bun. Nail edges bitten from anxiety. She stood on your apartment’s welcome mat, the look of horror pulling her mouth into an O shape as she glanced between you and Steve -a look of realisation. Steve used his large frame to shield your partially clothed body. Uneasy silence like trudging through mud. A few seconds later, the pizza delivery guy walked off the elevator and headed towards the ajar apartment door with a distraught woman staring at the occupants inside.

 You gripped the boot of the car to keep yourself steady. This memory didn't hurt as much as the others. You figured the medication was finally working.

Steve noticed your small movement and set Sarah down to rub your back in slow circles. You nodded your head to signal that you were okay. Sarah hugged your leg causing you to bend down and greet her properly.

"Hey, June-bug, how was the weekend?"

"It was good, we went to a big, big farm and saw horsies," Sarah had a hard time enunciating some of her words, making them sound incomplete.

"Wow! Horsies!" You gasped in an exaggerated tone causing Sarah's bubbly laughter to ripple out in its regular high pitch. You felt your spirits lift from that simple act.

Steve stroked Sarah's head while he spoke to you, keeping her out of earshot. "Hey, I'm gonna go talk to Sharon, tell her the paperwork’s been finalised."

“Good luck,” You blew air out of your mouth and cocked your head to the side, eyebrows rising in acknowledgement of that uneasy task. You stroked Steve's chest, "I'll strap little June-bug here into the car seat."

Steve walked off towards Sharon while you walked around the car with Sarah holding your hand.

When you fastened her into the child seat, Sarah pulled out a pine cone and handed it to you.

"Look what I found!"

“Wow! A pinecone, for me? Thank you, June-bug!”” You accepted the small pinecone. There weren’t many conifer trees nearby for at least a few miles out of the city. Sharon must have taken her far out of the city. "Huh, how far was this farm?"

Sarah's arms spread far apart as she sing-songed, "Faaaaaaaaar."

Without thinking, you pocketed the pinecone and glanced out the tinted window to look for Steve. He and Sharon were having a heated discussion, but they both tried to make everything appear normal.

Sarah glanced over, her smile falling, "Mommy and daddy fighting again."

You tapped Sarah's little button nose, "No they aren't fighting, they're just..." you glanced at Sharon. She was more animated in her gestures than before, pointing and frowning at the car. Steve held one hand up, probably in a feigned efford to calm her.

Speckles filled your vision as another memory burdened your peripheral.

Framework>Data Banks> Memories> Memories synchronised: 58%

Sharon lobbed something glass at Steve's head. He ducked as it shattered on the wall. Your throat had all but glued shut, you didn't have the nerve to get a word in. "Homewrecker!" rang through your small apartment. “Don’t act like things were fine. We haven’t been fine in a long time.” Steve words were cold. “I’m not the one who just got caught with his pants down! How old is she anyway?”

 When the pain subsided and your vision cleared, Steve was already sliding into the car. His jaw clenching but his voice soft as he turned to Sarah with a big smile, "Alright, who's ready for our day at the park?"

Sarah smiled but it wasn’t as animated as before, “Picnic!”

Steve laced his fingers into yours, the tension from his unpleasant conversation making his grip feel slightly uncomfortable. You didn’t say anything though.

***

Steve tossed a giddy Sarah up into the air a few dozen times while you laid out the picnic basket. The park had a few patrols passing through- peacekeepers were a mandatory presence since the Accords branded Shield as terrorists. A few other families were out too. You tried to get in the same fun spirit as Steve and Sarah, but something about how dishevelled Sharon looked haunted you. You began to imagine how easy everything could slip away. How easy you could end up like Sharon. Guilt clawed its way back through you.

When Steve sat down next to you, he placed a kiss on your head and noticed you didn't reciprocate with your signature smile.

"You okay?" He asked.

You kept your eyes on a trail of ants marching towards an open lunch box with grapes, "Are you happy? Despite everything we went through… everything we did?"

Steve got tense, his eyes falling on Sarah with what seemed to be shame. "I'm not going to act like it's been a fairy-tale. People rarely feel complete, especially in our world, given what we do. I was content before you came along. Sometimes being content isn’t enough, you reminded me of what was possible.”

Steve looked back at you, his face lit up as he brought your finger to his lips for a loving kiss, “And, yes, despite everything, I am happy."

You glanced down at your wedding ring, your frown up turning into a numb smile.

Steve drew you in for a proper kiss and all your worries ebbed away. His large, calloused hands sliding along your folded thighs, a guttural moan escaping his throat as you laughed at his hungry kisses.

“We’re in public, Steve...” you pretended to be embarrassed by his publicly affectionate actions, but truthfully the only time things made sense was when he kissed you.

“That’s never bothered you before,” he said with a raspy voice. Then Sarah’s laughter rippled outward from a few paces away, her form looking much smaller from this distance as she blew bubbles out of a small looped plastic wand. Steve groaned with displeasure, “But I suppose you’re right.”

You licked your lips and straightened your posture before feeding Steve a grape.

Suddenly both your cell phones beeped.

You both groaned from the impending disruption of your day off.

Steve looked at his phone and scrolled through a long docket before swearing under his breath.

"They need us back in the field," he said through a clenched jaw. He wasn't amused with the last-minute work call.

Your eyes widened when you read through your own docket, "They've managed to trace the Iron Maiden back to her hideout."

"Call the babysitter would you, I'll go get Sarah."

Steve walked over to Sarah and lifted her onto his shoulders.

You sighed, dialling the number of the babysitter, "So much for my day off."

***

The dark-tinted tactical SUV raced passed several blocks. You were suited up and fastening on your gloves. Your partner Clint sat beside you, checking the edges of his katana. He had yet to fully fasten on his arm-guards leaving the identical bullet hole scars on his palms exposed. There was also a matching sized hole drilled through the katana’s grip, some of the metal bent outward jaggedly.

Like clockwork, the memory attached to those scars rung through your head. You squinted your eyes shut for a moment.

 Framework>Data Banks> Memories> Memories synchronised: 62%

A panorama of open country raced nauseatingly across the speeding car's window. A ‘Welcome to Budapest’ sign on the highway. An ambush. The snipers nest releasing soviet made hollow-point bullets into metal car doors. Clint's sword sliced diagonally across a red-haired woman’s face. A single bullet ripping through Clint's hands that were griped on his sword for the finishing blow. A scream, a painful cry, a worried shout. You tackled your partner to the ground. The red-haired woman making a run for it. Steve throwing his shield. The metal impacting with a spine so intensely it crushed the spinal cord. Defector Maria Hill laying paralysed from the waist down. A shield emblem printed on her right jacket pocket. Clint's hands trembling as you wrap them in bandages, his face contorted in anger as he failed to move his fingers. “She better pray we never cross paths again!”

 "Hey, you good partner?" Clint placed his hand on your back, having noticed your discomfort.

"Bad week is all," you reassured him as you opened your eyes. “You ever going to repair the hilt on that? It can’t be comfortable to hold with the metal bending out like that.”

Clint chuckled and made a fist rigidly with both his hands, one at a time. When they opened up again, several of his fingers moved like iced joints. A painful sneer enlarging his nostrils.

"Are you okay?" You asked him.

Clint fastened on his gloves, "Just cramps. How's lover boy?"

"Always with the deflecting,” You shook your head. “He's… been on edge about something lately. I just feel like something's not… right."

Clint sheathed his sword and pulled his mask out from under his seat, "Maybe it's because you chose not to go on your honeymoon. He is old fashioned after all. Probably all that pent up sexual tension turning into plain tension."

Clint laughed at his jab, you punched his midrib hard.

"Shut up," You looked over the mission brief one more time and then checked your guns. "If this really is the Iron-Maiden's hideout, Romanoff might be there..."

Clint turned stiff at the mention of Natasha's name. His fist-clenching so tight it strained against his leather gloves.

"Good," he said menacingly as he fastened on his mask.

The black SUV's rolled up in an old brick house neighbourhood. You placed your comms unit in your ear and unholstered your gun.

"Look alive people, time to storm a castle."  

You and Clint exchanged a fist bump, the simple action triggered a searing pain to braze through your mind like a cheese grater. You gasped, ground your molars together and banged your head against the leather seats of the SUV. The memory wasn't clear, it was hazy like a half-forgotten dream. An image of a man with long hair, lips pulled in a reluctant smile, flickered in your mind like a loose light fixture. You couldn't see past his top lip, but the thought of him filled you with something you hadn't felt in a long time: safe.

The headache subsided almost as quickly as it came, you blinked several times.

"You good?" Clint asked once more, his serious tone lacerating through you.

You nodded, took a breath and hopped out of the car. Gun out of its holster, you took up tactical positions and stormed the old brick apartment complex in strategic waves of intimidating force. The sound of helicopter blades slicing through the air above drew your attention. Steve was seated inside, fully geared and ready to jump onto the roof.

Over the comms, you heard Clint say, "One with the least take down numbers buys the first round at McCredie’s."

"You're on!" You challenged.

“Easy there, Mrs Rogers,” Steve said cooly. “We know that if you lose this bet, you’re just gonna make me buy the round.”

“Better make sure to send all the stragglers my way then, honey.”

Clint grappled to a high floor, “Hey that’s cheating.”

The sound of Steve bursting through a window filled the comms, “No, that’s just a perk of being married to me.”

You chuckled as you fired off several shots at the enemy.

PART THREE: WHO THE FUCK IS BUCKY?

AFWHI tags: @fangirl-colo @dormousse @smallmarvel @ren-ni @sargentbucket @nikolett3 @wnygirl2012 @jentismyname @evilgeniuslabz-blog @myrabbitholetoneverland @sleepingspacedragon @500daysofbecky @reidreader  

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[twistednuns]

December 2019

Maxim calling out of the blue, inviting me to the Mine concert later that month.

Stumbling upon great inspiration for plant-based buddha bowls.

@shitgothssay memes.

Zotter salted caramel chocolate.

Finding out about the fact that you can just add the letter A to some words to transform them into adjectives. Like aglitter or aglow and aglisten.

Ayurvedic Kapha tea with some black tea, honey and milk. Sonnentor Gute Laune tea. Green tea with toasted coconut.

Isana shower oil. Works wonders for dry skin. Such a smooth and creamy texture. Great for shaving, too.

Winning the pub quiz - again! I played with Maggie, Dennis, Daniel and Steffen (Team name: Three geese in a trenchcoat) and we won 178€. However, the best thing about this was when I finally solved the anagram after thinking about it for 10 minutes. It was Greta Thunberg! Winning is lovely, of course, but solving the anagram is already a personal win for me each time.

Tuesdays. Coming home early, sleeping it off.

Being super rested after a nap, cooking a huge pot of veggie stew and my ratatouille signature recipe, even preparing a batch of butter bean hummus and salad dressing. Listening to folk music, singing along, even dancing at some point. Standing there, peeling the potatos… Happy moment.

Signature manicure. Always. This time: bluish iridescent lilac with the obligatory black dot.

A personal realisation. I’ve been massively out of touch with myself. I’ve stopped journaling, stopped doing things for myself because they’re beneficial and not because they’re convenient and numb everything. And why is that a good thing? Well, only being at this point and realising what’s wrong with me makes it possible to do something against it. To come up a self-care plan. To make myself feel better.

Semi-deleting Facebook.

Spending time with Manu for the first time in three months. Watching a documentary about black holes and a cheesy Christmas movie. Ordering south Indian food, cuddling up in bed. Sometimes I don’t know why I keep isolation myself. Being around people can be really lovely and soothing if you can be yourself around them. It’s just that I often feel the presence of other living beings drains my energy.

The best massage I ever had. From now on I’ll always request Yaya as my massage therapist. She is SICK. Strong, merciless, forces me into weird poses and makes my back crack.

Also: the chocolate-filled mint hard candy they hand out at the massage studio. I used to hate mint-infused chocolate but somehow I think these are delicious. Perfect after-torture-treat.

Persimmons. Obsessed.

My eye colour in artificial light. A dark moss green with caramel-coloured speckles and a dark rim.

The National playing a 2-hour-long concert and including some of my favourite songs from the High Violet album. Fangirling with Anika.

The smell of cold. You know, that whiff of cool air you get when you’re sniffing a jacket that’s been hanging on the balcony for a few hours to air out.

Learning more about Claire Saffitz from this article - she likes arts and crafts, is a homebody and has degrees in history and literature! She basically enrolled in culinary school because she was bored after graduation. She’s an enigma of a quirky kind. Not brilliant and scattered, but determined and aimless. Not brave and rebellious, but anxious and creative. She hates change yet pursues it, wants order but trades in chaos. She’s loved because she hates stuff; performs well because she can’t perform. And above all, she’s aggressively regular—and something about this makes the crowd go wild.

Fresh laundry smell on my blankets and pillows. And my new gravity blanket. It weighs 11kg which feels crazy heavy when you carry it but the weight evenly distributes over the body when you’re lying down. Apparently the pressure triggers the release of stress hormones. So far I’m sleeping like a baby and I don’t seem to wake up or move much at night.

Stephanie Madewell. I love everything she writes, her blog is such a godsend of beautiful, important, eclectic ideas. One thing I especially like are her imaginary outfits.

Princess Margaret’s limerick contest with President Lyndon B. Johnson in The Crown. Pure comedy. “There was a young lady from Dallas / who used a dynamite stick as a phallus / they found her vagina in North Carolina / and her asshole in Buckingham Palace.”

Little pieces of string in the corners of a duvet cover. It’s the first time I’ve seen those. So practical for big blankets!

Mental health days. I needed this. So much. Mornings in bed, reading for hours. Drinking a whole pot of tea.

Partner yoga. Chanting the closing mantra together.

Making vegan energy balls for my brother. I adapted the recipe and made my own versions so I ended up with a batch of pistachio/cherry and mango/sesame.

Freaking out whenever I see a cute cat. Damn, I really need to spend more time with animals. My highlight: breakfast in bed, watching a video of an adorable cat giving birth. I cried. Yup.

Going swimming for the first time in, man, I don’t even know. Forever. I didn’t swim for a long time, maybe half an hour, but muscle memory kicked in immediately. Water is totally my element. And, as if it had been destiny: I chose the day they cut the hanging plants in the main hall and the guy gave me a variety of five different cuttings to take home!! He made me a very happy girl.

The ink blue sky right after sunset. / The morning after the full moon in Gemini (the moon still bright and huge, visible in the bluish-grey Western sky). / When the sun suddenly comes out after a very dark and gloomy morning.

Buying a new phone. The old one was broken beyond repair. I even got a nice cork protective case. How could I ever live without an uncracked screen? The battery now actually lasts for more than a day. Nice.

Odd bits of knowledge: A galanthophile is an enthusiastic collector and identifier of snowdrop (Galanthus) species and cultivars. (Wikipedia) // Scientists theorize the Universe might have cracks in it: long thin boundaries that formed as space cooled after the Big Bang. 95 billion lightyears long and a few femtometers thin, these wrinkles in space-time would hold enough energy to bend light and destroy entire planets. (PHD comics) // the word to bloviate (German meaning: schwafeln, langatmig vortragen) // In Japan we have three rituals: HANAMI, TSUKIMI, and YUKIMI. HANAMI is watching the flowers. TSUKIMI is watching the moon, YUKIMI is watching the snow. It’s a beautiful tradition when you invite people to watch with you. I remember them all. (Yoko Ono) // In linguistics, prosody is concerned with those elements of speech that are not individual phonetic segments (vowels and consonants) but are properties of syllables and larger units of speech, including linguistic functions such as intonation, tone, stress, and rhythm. Such elements are known as suprasegmentals. Prosody may reflect various features of the speaker or the utterance: the emotional state of the speaker; the form of the utterance (statement, question, or command); the presence of irony or sarcasm; emphasis, contrast, and focus. It may otherwise reflect other elements of language that may not be encoded by grammar or by choice of vocabulary. (Wikipedia) //

I know I mention this a lot but the first olfactory whiff of a freshly cut open passion fruit is one of the best smells I know.

When my breakfast tastes like a candy bar. Which it immediately does whenever I add almond butter and cocoa nibs to porridge.

Yoga at home on a sunny Saturday afternoon. I’m often too lazy to get out my yoga mat but whenever I do afterwards I’m always so glad I practiced. Also: going to yoga class despite being extremely stressed out. It actually helped me silence some of these tormenting thoughts in my head.

Cutting my own hair. It’s kinda ridiculous and layered but I love the new bounce.

Michael Nyman - Musique à grande vitesse x // feels like it makes my pulse quicker, it’s urging and forceful.

My adventures in psychedelia - an article about the therapeutic effect of psychoactive drugs. I’m going to get Michael Pollan’s book about the topic from the library next week. So interesting.

People who are still writing letters.

My pupils. I realised that some of them have become very fine people. Open, compassionate, motivated, interested, bright, polite. Like the students who attended our first school magazine meeting in their spare time - on the last school day before the Christmas holidays - and had all these amazing ideas. Victor, being able to hold a conversation like an adult. Marks cuddling that dog in front of the supermarket. My tenth-graders being really reasonable, managable, easy to talk to.

Liza Weil’s role as Shy Baldwin’s bass player in The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. It took me three episodes to recognize her.

A little embroidery set. I love keeping my hands busy when I’m watching movies.

Making vegan walnut lebkuchen and a very good batch of crisp bread in one go.

Roast apples with candied almonds and marzipan for Christmas dinner. Some buckwheat chocolate cookies. Actually helping out my mum in the kitchen.

Sitting at the piano with my brother, singing tunes from our childhood series, Disney songs, pop songs… We both had sore throats afterwards.

Visiting Sash’s parents over Christmas. Her mum cooked a pretty great lunch and we played board games.

Learning how to make a monkey fist knot.

Finding a new spot I like in my apartment. The chair right next to the window at the kitchen table. It’s nice and warm because you can sit beside the heater and while you have breakfast or browse through a cookbook you can see what’s going on outside.

Seeing the incredible gobelins at Kunsthalle / Fäden der Moderne exhibition. I loved the Le Corbusier ones.

Visiting Manu at his parents' place. Playing board games together, his mum feeding me with parsley potatoes and a weird _bird's milk_ dessert. Lying on the sofa, watching old movies. It's weirdly nice to be part of a normal family dynamic once in a while.

Andre saving my New Year’s Eve at the very last minute. Out of the blue he suggested a trip to Czech Republic right after midnight the day before. I was like… okay, let’s do this! So I met up with him and three people I had never met before in Regensburg and we drove to Český Krumlov, checked into our fancy hotel and walked down to the city centre. Czech food for dinner, a band playing at the city square. We climbed up to the castle for the turn of the year. This must have been the first year that started out with a proper New Year’s kiss. Afterwards we went to a weird music bar and - apparently - one of the best clubs in the country. I had a lot of fun. Even though getting Andre home was quite a challenge.