#Been writing some papers on issues I thought you guys would find relevant

[thatfrenchacademic]

hey! you seem like you're a really good TA (? idk if that's the right term but you seem to have some prof/teacher tasks?) and i was wondering how you got the confidence to do that? i'm basically on your level of education but i wouldn't think i was smart/capable enough to judge other students' writing and stuff, i feel like one of them more than one of the teachers if you get what i mean. do you have any advice?

Hello !

That is such a thoughtful question - and I am sure all postgrads who suddendly have to start teaching feel the same at the beginning. In my opinion, it is a fairly healthy mindset to have, as long as it does not inhibit your own teaching and remain just some healthy awareness that, hey, you are still learning many things yourself.

I am very touched you think I am a good TA - I hope I manage to be a helpful one at least.d I definitely still often wonder "am I qualified to teach this ? To... grade this ? Who am I to say whether this is good work or not?" But here are a few thingsm coming both from my experience so far and my discussions with other TA, which could maybe be of help to you (each developed under the cut)

1. You know more than your students, and that will be enough to help them.

2. Teaching is a two way street : you are not lecturing to them, you are working with them.

2bis : Give constant verbal feedback to your students !

3. Your own experience of being an Undergrad may not be the best point of reference

4. Talk to other TAs ! You all face the same issues !

5. Try out things, and if they do not work, it's fine.

6. Organize your session alternating moments where you take the lead, and moments where students take the lead.

7. Help, My students are not talking !

8. Grading is tough, but we can make it easier.

I hope they will be of help, but no worries, it takes practice, trial and errors, and time will help you figure it out. Do not hesitate to come back here if you have any question or something you want to discuss ! (And tell me how your teaching went, I would love to hear it!)

1. You know more than your students, and that will be enough to help them.

It means you do not have to be an expert in the topic you teach. You may even just be familiar with it. But by virtue of being a postgrad student, you know how to do the reading effectively, you will get very quickly what is important, what to retain from this or that reading. And you just need to know more than your students. Which you absolutely will.

I think being passionate, showing that you are excited about what you are teaching, giving them this energy, this interest, is much much more important than being a full-blown expert in your area.

2. Teaching is a two way street : you are not lecturing to them, you are working with them.

And that is not me being vaguely pseudo-inspiration ; it is something I have learnt and truly realized when I took a course on teaching. There is much literature on this, but the take-away is that especially as a TA, it is helpful if you see your job as working with students. Engage with them, offer them different options to choose from during the session, explain that you are here to support their learning, and give them some space to have some agency over what happens ! Trust them to at least try their best - many are!- and they will trust you in return, and will be more likely to give you some feedback.

2bis : Give constant verbal feedback to your students !

This does not come easy to me, but students NEED to be told when they said something good ! Because if you do not tell them explicitely, how would they know that, hey, this was a pretty cool comment !

But also, be clear when answer or a point raised is not relevant or wrong, because it also guides their understand of the topic. "Ok, I can see why you would say that, but it's actually abit trickier...". "Ah, yes, it is very interesting that you raise it, it is a common misunderstanding and I am glad you are pointing it out, because it is an interesting discussion to have!"

3. Your own experience of being an Undergrad may not be the best point of reference

When I started teaching, I made the mistake of thinking "ok, what sort of TA/tutorial do I wish I had, in Undergrad?", and went with what I know I would have enjoyed. Except I am a passionate nerdy introvert who hated talking to my peers and doing group works, and wanted a TA who was no-bullshit, clear, professional. Most of your students are probably not, and may indeed enjoy group work, or the opportunity to connect with their peers during your tutorial. Most of your students will appreciate a TA who is more forthcoming, friendly, and may crack a joke or two. And it is a weird role to have, it may clash with your personality (it definitely clashes with mine), but it's ok if it takes time to find the right zone for you ! It is absolutely part of the process !

4. Talk to other TAs ! You all face the same issues !

Pooling experience with other TAs is fantastic. Because no matter what issue you are facing, one of them faced it already. How do you teach in the shitty Room 605 where the computer does not work ? How do they deal with students who do not do the readings ? How to they handle lack of motivation from students ? What sort of group work do they organize ? Who sort of online tools do they rely on ? How do they deal with all the emails they get ? And on that note...

5. Try out things, and if they do not work, it's fine.

Do not be afraid to try things. I tend to stay away from "complex" activities which can confuse students, or rely too much on technology. But group work ? There are so many types of group work ! Why stick to just the "think of this question in group of 3 for 5 minutes", when you could do a syndicate, snowballing, 2-minutes essay, fishbowl, think-pair-share, buzz groups...

And sometimes, it will not work. Just... a bad session. And you feel that it's on you, that you did not manage to do your work, that you are a bad teacher... And refer to Point 2. Then, calmly, talk about it with another TA. Explain what you did, and try to get their opinion on it, reflect on it. But it is never all on you.

6. Organize your session alternating moments where you take the lead, and moments where students take the lead.

Teaching is exhausting, learning is exhausting, genuinely, so balance out moments where you do the heavy work, and moments where they do. I like to have a rough session plan with all the activities I have planned, and indicate for each if it is "ME", "STUDENTS", "ALL". And also ensure that your students are given the opportunity to really take an active role, which is way better for learning !

7. Help, my students are not talking :

This will happen. You will ask a question, no one will answer. Big, awkward, heavy silence. You reformulated the question, but clearly it is not working. Here are a few ways I have reacted to it :

- Show of hands 1 : for a quick diagnosis. "Can you raise your hand if you have done the reading for this question ? Just so I know if this is maybe the problem". Encourage the ones who have done the readings to explain it to the others.

- Show of hands 2 : "Ok, there are two ways to answer this question X and Y. Can you raise you hand if you think Y, and lower it if you think X?". Encourage some who picked Y to explain why, then same with X.

- Show of hands 3 : "Ok, let's lower the pressure. Who thinks they kind of have an answer, but is not sure about how to word it, or properly argument it?". Ask whoever raise their hand to start, and pick up yourself from there.

- Switch to think-pair-share : "Ok, how about we think a bit about this on our own for a few minutes, and then you can compare your own answers with your neigbour"

- Collapse the classroom : "Ok, I can see that this is not working. It's ok, can you tell me if it is because the topic is not super interesting, or the reading ? Are the questions not what you expected?"

- End of the session clear-up : [once everything is over] "Ok, so now that the session is over, can I ask you guys why it was difficult for you to talk today ? Just so I can make sure I can come up with questions that are useful to you, next time. If some of you want to stay a few minutes to talk about what you would like to change for the next tutorials, we can talk about it now ; you don't have to, of course"

8. Grading is tough, but we can make it easier.

Especially if you are grading things like essays, we can often feel uneasy, unsure how to grade them, how legitimate we are to grade them, especially with the sheer impact grades can have on students. Ideally, you want to have a list of things that are PLUS POINTS, and perhaps some that are MINUS POINTS, and have those strictly guide your grading, to be fair to all students and assess them similarly. I also found that it is helpful to grade the paper, only the paper. When there is a really, really bad essay where clearly the student barely tried, it's easy to get frustrated, because you did your best, and clearly the student did not care ? But you never actually know what happened. Real examples of students submitting absolutely terrible work include : a student who was grieving her mother, a student who had been in hospital and did not know she could ask for a delay, an adult student whose child had gotten sick the days before, a foreign student with a poor grasp on English... When you are grading the 78th essay of the week, it is easy to forget that each of them is from an individual, and we get to judge the work they do, but not why they did it. Even in your comments and feedback, always be compassionate.

[bxthharmon]

Never Go Home Again, Pt. XIII || JJ Maybank x Reader

Words:2715

Series Warnings: violence / talking about abuse / toxic relationships / talking about nudes sex and sex tapes / drugs / underage drinking

Pt. Warnings: abuse / being a fugitive???

Series Summary: A new girl, a shoebox of old memories, a past she’s trying to forget coincide with a hotheaded, but selfless, boy.  teenagers getting in way over their heads

Pt. Summary: In a desperate attempt to sort everything out, Y/N finds herself in the ones place she least expected to be

A/N: ok ok ok i promise im writing my requests oops anyway love yall send more requests cuz im always bored. Also, yall dont understand how sad i am that this is ending :( BUT started writing another series so lemme know if u wanna get tagged in that <3

Chapters linked in my masterlist.

“masterlist”

“John B, what are we doing at the police station?” JJ asked, breaking the stuffy silence that was consuming the vehicle.

“Somebody’s gotta tell them what happened.” He justified.

“Need me to come in, like, as a witness?” you asked. He shook his head. 

The heavy quiet was broken by Pope, coughing like he’d inhaled chili powder. “Easy there, chief.” JJ reprimanded, and you took the blunt away from your friend. “Alright,” JJ leaned through to John B, “I’m just gonna be real with you right now,” You watched his red cap, “You might end up in the lion’s den, but you don’t go there on purpose. It’s fundamental, just like my old man always told me, you should never, ever trust cops. No matter what the circumstance is.”

“Your old man’s an abusive liar.” Kie countered.

“I agree with JJ.” Pope spoke, and you frowned, holding back the giggle in your lips as he continued, “Fuck the police.”

“You going to the dark side now?” Kie snarked.

“When was the last time the police ever helped us?” He countered.

“Peterkin looked out for me, alright?” John B interrupted, “Or tried to, at least.”

There was a moment of thick quiet before he continued.

“They need to know.”

He looked around, none of you willing to argue as he got out of the car and entered the station. You looked over to JJ, who was determinedly ignoring your stare. You wondered what the fuck was going on because last time you checked, you had been on good terms with him. You sighed, looking out the window and waiting impatiently for John B to return so that the awkward silence would end. You took a hit from the blunt you’d taken from Pope, letting the smoke swirl around in your lungs before gently blowing it out, ignoring the frustrated looks you got from the other three.

Next thing you knew, everyone was shouting and the car was accelerating, the officer trying to open the car door discarded as the shocking adrenaline rush took ahold of the speeding car. Eyes wide, you took another hit from the blunt.

--

“Good news for residents of the Outer Banks, Dominion Power says their underwater transmission line, which will restore power to 95% of the area, should be functional within 24 hours.”

Sirens passed, but in the hazy atmosphere of the car, no one moved, other than to make sure the car didn’t turn. Pope and Kie sat in the front, JJ and John B to your right, seats reclined as you all attempted whatever kind of rest was possible on the worried heat of the day.

“And still no arrest for the shooting death of Sheriff Susan Peterkin. The state police have issued a statement regarding a local person of interest, a juvenile from-”

Kie clicked the radio off, glancing over at the three of you in the back.

“Let’s game this out.” JJ suggested, “Maybe you guys can help, being the smart ones and all, but… who are the cops going to believe? Ward Cameron or us? So the accuser is a big shot developer, kind of lord of the island, got the governor on speed dial kind of person, and the accused…” he looked over to his friend, “is John B, who is pretty much a homeless 16-year-old boy at the moment.”

“Thanks.” came the hoarse voice of the boy across from you.

“Shit.” you muttered, running a hand over your face and sitting up straight for the first time in hours. You twisted so that your back was leaning on the back oh Kie’s seat, and you were facing the three boys.

“Okay, man, Yucatan, alright?” JJ said, swiftly avoiding your arm as you stretched, “I’m saying, that’s the only option, what other option do you have?”

“Enough with the Mexico bullshit.” John B shook his head. “Sarah’s gonna bail me out.”

“She did witness the whole thing.” Kie pointed out.

“So did I?” you reminded, “So what? She’s gonna snitch on her brother for her dick appointment of the week? No offence, bro.”

“It’s not happening.” JJ reiterated, “We’ve gotta get you off the island.”

“The ferry.” Pope said, “It’s the only way.”

“Exit stage left while you still can.” JJ added. “Before the entire island is on lockdown.”

“Get down.” You reminded him softly, and you all ducked. You reached for JJ’s hand, but his simple gesture of pulling it away made you feel embarrassed, unsure of whatever was going on between you. You turned away from him, looking out the window again.

“Sarah’s not a pogue, John B.” Pope reminded.

“Yeah, you can’t stay here, man.”

“Let’s go then.” You muttered, and Pope pulled out, driving carefully to the docks. They were crowded, and you got out before anyone could argue, thankful for even two minutes out of the suffocating atmosphere. You walked to the sign, reading the notice about the ferry closure and ripping the wanted poster off its staples. You walked back to the car, reading it as you reached the vehicle, then passing it through Pope’s window and shaking your head solemnly. You got in next to JJ as they passed the paper around, JJ making a joke.

“Okay, so the whole island’s looking for John B right now.” Pope said.

“Well at least you know how much you’re worth.” You joked, receiving a frustrated look from Kie.

“Congratulations, John B,” JJ smirked, “you’re famous.”

“We gotta get to the HMS. We need small, no running lights-” kie began to reason, but John B cut her off.

“It’s at the Chateau, Kie.”

“And I wonder if the cops have got the entire place staked out.” JJ said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “Let me think. Yeah, no, they definitely have that place locked down.”

“Hey Jay?” you nudged him, an idea forming, “Like, a couple of weeks ago, you mentioned your dad’s boat? The Ghost? Spectre?”

“The Phantom!” JJ and Pope caught on.

“He still got it?” Pope asked.

“Maybe.”

“You could get that right up the coast, no problem.” Pope said.

Bickering followed, and then the sudden realisation that Pope’s car was on the poster. Suddenly, someone was hitting the window and the car wasn’t starting and everyone was shouting. The car lurched forwards, straight into another car, and then took off, driving away as people watched, shocked.

The car sped forwards, crashing around as you all shouted for Pope to stop, his high ass was definitely not fit for driving.

“JB,” you shouted over everyone, “you need to get out.”

Pope braked, all of you thrust forwards with the force of it, and you found yourself pushing John B out of the car while JJ shouted instructions at him.

--

The two field tents were massive, rows of chairs on either side as swarms of people worked, talked, and typed. You wandered around for a minute or so, watching the officers interact, always being pushed back when you tried to talk to anyone. You could feel the eyes of the security team burning into you as you looked for Shoupe. Eventually, you saw him, talking to a taller man in an SBI windbreaker. You walked towards them slowly, finalising your plan in your head.

Shoupe saw you, and stepped aside from the conversation so that he was facing you, the agent turning as well, a frown forming as he took in your scruffy attire and the faint smell of JJ’s weed that was clinging to your clothes. You looked between them, “Uh, Officer Shoupe, I have some info.” You greeted.

“Who are you?” The agent interrupted, looking you over again.

“Um, I’m Y/N Y/L/N, I know John B.” you clarified, and he nodded.

“What have you got for us?” he asked, and you breathed in, and out, pinching yourself slightly.

“I saw everything on the airstrip.”

The SBI agent introduced himself as Bratcher, then they sat you down in one of the tents, letting you explain what you saw, uninterrupted, and asking questions when they saw fit. They told you that your account, while plausible, was a hard one to argue, especially against Ward Cameron, unless you had a second account to back it up.

Sarah Cameron, you thought. Talk to Sarah.

After taking your statement, they left you to sit in the field tent, shivering in the cold breeze and no coat, watching them call your dad, listening out for any relevant information you could gather. 

You could feel their eyes on you, discussing what to do with the information you had for them. An officer, you couldn’t remember her name, had draped a jacket over your shoulders at some point, then led you away while the SBI agent gave a briefing.

You waited at the end of the tent, looking for anything to cease your worry and boredom.

Then you saw her. She looked as lost as you had, trying to work out who to talk to, just like you had a few hours ago. You stepped towards her.

“Sarah?” she turned to you, going to hug you, but an armed officer stepped between you, pulling you apart. “No, she’s my friend!” you struggled towards her, another officer holding her away from you, both of you shouting.

“What’s happening?” Bratcher asked, all of you stopped struggling. 

“This is Sarah Cameron,” you explained, “she was there, like I said.”

He looked between you, and nodded, asking her if she was able to make a statement. They took her away, sitting her down at the other end of the tent, letting her talk. You saw Ward approaching.

“Y/N?” he frowned, and you raised your eyebrows.

“How do you know who I am?”

“Sarah’s mentioned you.” he looked around, “have you seen her?”

“Oh, is she no longer locked away in her room?” He tensed, confusion and anger contorting his features.

“How do you know about that?” 

“Can’t say.” You said, “Not a great parenting strategy, just saying.”

He leapt forwards, a madness in his eyes that you’d never seen before. He grabbed you by the throat, screaming in your face while you clawed at his grip. Within seconds, other bodies were pulling him away. Your panic subsided, and you looked at Bratcher. You could use the situation to your advantage.

“See what I mean?” you yelled, pointing at him as you faced Bratcher, “He’s crazy! I told you, he attacked Big John, he’s the reason this is all happening!”

Bratcher sighed, signalling for his men to take away the older man. “I have to say, Miss Y/L/N, your story is making more sense. Two stories matching perfectly, his temper. But we talked to your father, you’re free to go, we’re almost done with Sarah.”

“What’s going to happen to John B?”

He sighed, “We’ve gotta bring him in, you understand that.”

You nodded, “I hope I shed some truth to the situation.”

You walked away, leaving the jacket on a chair as you passed, sending a reassuring smile to Sarah on your way out, you wandered the streets, finding your way to JJ’s house.

By some kind of miracle, you arrived at the same time as Kie and JJ. He was getting out of the car when he noticed you, and instead of making any move to hug you as normal, he froze.

“Look, JJ,” you sighed. “Why are you mad at me?”

You stood opposite him in his front yard, staring at the way he sighed, an odd mix of relief and defeat adorning his features. “I saw some texts, from Tyler.”

You nodded slowly. “I rejected him, if that’s what upset you. Since I met you, no guys have been the same, you know?”

His eyes pulled in slightly, as if realising that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t one-sided. “Did you sleep with him?”

“Yeah.” you glanced at the floor, “I don’t really know why. Things were weird between us and I just - I missed my old life. But it was like, the confirmation I needed.”

“What do you mean?”

“I love you.”

His jaw dropped slightly in shock, running you words over in his head, working out whether you were genuine. You began to step back, and before you could think about what had just happened, he was kissing you.

It was urgent, emotive, full of everything that you couldn’t put into words. You broke apart, still slightly shocked at the confession. You looked at his front door.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

He looked to Kie, who was pretending she hadn’t watched, and nodded apprehensively, slipping a hand into yours and leading you to the door. He opened it, leading you through into the mess. You stepped over shoes and bottles as he led you in, calling out for his dad.

You ventured into the living room, seeing his dad passed out on the sofa, a half empty bottle of something on the table next to him. “Dad, I need the keys to the Phantom.” a snore sounded, “Dad?”

You looked down, noticing the sleeping pills and picking them up, showing the bottle to the blond boy next to you. Watching him, you could practically feel the hurt resonating off him, masked by his strong resolution as he looked back at his dad. Noticing the chain around his neck, between you you found a pencil and pin to get the keys with.

You stood a couple of feet behind him as he knelt down, preparing himself.

“Well, I didn’t expect to see you.”

The voice was a murmur, almost soft, and your heart was beating in your throat. You knew what he was capable of.

“You’re back.” 

This time, Luke had more clarity in his voice, and was more awake. He hadn’t noticed you yet.

“Just checkin’ in.” JJ said, backing away as the older man sat up, taking a swig from a beer bottle.

“School out already?” 

“What?” JJ frowned.

“Did you ditch? It’s alright, you can tell me.”

JJ nodded slowly, “Yeah. I hit the break, you know?”

“I hated school too. My boy!” Luke chuckled. You felt intrusive, like you were standing in on a moment that wasn’t yours to see. But the moment felt intimate, hitting you where it hurt as your eyes went glassy. “You know what? Listen, hey.” he stood shakily, “Hey, look, I know I’m hard on you sometimes.” JJ hummed, fear mixing into his pain, “But sometimes I - I see your mother in you, and it gets me a little tweaked, you know?”

You wiped a tear away, the scene before you hurting more than you would like to admit. The man looked at you, and you could see JJ’s shoulders tense.

“You got a girl?” he didn’t look away from you.

“Uh, yeah, Y/N.” JJ looked over at you, worry seeping into his eyes.

“You treat my boy better than I could, okay?” You nodded slowly, more tears slipping down your face.

“Of course.” your voice broke slightly, “I love him.”

“Me too.” His head turned back to his son, “I love you, son.” He pulled JJ in, “Come here, I love you. I love you, son. I love you.”

More than anything, you wanted to call him out. Tell him that if that was true, then he wouldn’t hurt JJ like he did. But whatever this moment was, it wasn’t the right one to do so.

You could hear JJ sniffling, letting his hands find their way onto his father’s back. When he spoke, he sounded like he wanted to be stronger than he felt, his voice thick, pained, struggling. “Love you too, Dad. I’m sorry.”

“Ain’t got nothing to be sorry for.” His father muttered, the sleeping pills pulling him back out of consciousness, slowly as ever. JJ helped him down onto the sofa. “You’re a good boy.” came the murmur.

JJ let out a shaky breath, not sparing you a glance as he pulled the chain from his father’s neck and stepped away. He looked back at you, almost embarrassed to have let you see him in such a vulnerable state. He turned to leave, your voice came out as a hoarse whisper.

“JJ, you don’t always have to be strong, you know that, right?”

Tags: @tangledinsparkles​ @jellyfishbeansontoast​ @lolitstiana​ @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch​ @teamnick​ @thoughtsofthestars​ @obxmxybxnk​ @pcterparxer​ @kaelyn-lobrutto24​ @sxcretinhuman​ @alexa-playafricabytoto​ @angvelics​ @badwolf00593​ @coloradogirl07​ @mendesmaybank​ @jiaraendgame​ @5am-cigarette​ @emerald-xcd​ @haharudy​

[zeta-in-de-walls]

Dream’s speedrunning

Hey guys, I don’t usually make posts like this but I’ve kinda been following this drama for a while and felt like discussing it. Heh, Idk. I’m no expert ofc. 

See, I’m a bit dismayed to find I do indeed believe Dream definitely is guilty of cheating in his minecraft speedrunning. I figured I’d explain my thoughts.

For those who are unaware, a couple months ago, Dream did some livestreams where he streamed Minecraft speedrunning in version 1.16. He did six sessions which were all hours long. Over that time he did hundreds of piglin trades to get ender pearls. 242 trades in fact!

 And that’s where the issue comes in, as ender pearl drops from piglins are rare - there’s 4.73% of an ender pearl trade. From this number of trades, you’d expect 242*4.73% = 11.4. That’s the average, obviously there’s bound to be a little deviation but the higher the sample size, the closer you’d expect it to be to the average. 

Dream got 42 ender pearl trades. That is many, many, many standard deviations from the mean. That number is incredibly suspicious and it is effectively impossible for it to be explained by ‘good luck.’ Now you may be thinking that the whole point of world record times is to find that instance where you get astronomically lucky, but this wasn’t just his world record pace run - this was from all the runs in the streams, including the bad ones. It gets worse when the mods also examined Dream’s blaze run luck and found it was also way above the norm. Both of these combined being incredibly fortunate is even more unlikely to happen naturally. And these are two of the most important factors in a minecraft speedrun. 

But wait. What about bias? When speedrunning, you’d stop trading after a successful trade - that would skew the result to be slightly higher, right? True! The speedrunning mods apparently tried to account for that, giving Dream some benefit of the doubt. And, just in case their calculations for Dream were way off they decided to try it on other speedrunners and see if they also get astronomically high luck, suggesting the problem is with their calculations and not with Dream. They examined other speedrunners and not one of them were anything close to Dream’s high odds! 

For comparison, they examined Illumina (and others but Illumina was the luckiest they found) and found he had a string of good luck, such that his odds of getting it legitimately were only 9%. Dream’s luck meanwhile? 0.000000000565% Errr... yeah. And these were using the exact same calculation method. Dream’s numbers are not natural. For that reason, Dream’s records are completely unverifiable as his game must have been tampered with in some way to have achieved such results. 

Now Dream made his response video and got someone else to write a paper on it. Apparently this person used a different formula that gave Dream much more benefit of doubt. And came to the conclusion that Dream’s odds were not 1/7.5 trillion, but 1/10 million. I believe that he also included runs Dream had done earlier in the year - a good month before the six streams where Dream is thought to have been cheating. The obvious answer is that Dream only changed the odds before those six streams, as his odds were normal before then. Remember, they don’t think Dream was always cheating, they think he started cheating with those six streams - that’s why the runs before then are not relevant and in fact damn Dream further in some respects as it makes it more obivous that his game has been tampered with recently - rather than that he’s always had a faulty version of the game with weird luck installed that just so happens to improve the odds of the two things most crucial to speedrunning. So if you add some extra irrelevant data to your sample to skew it, it looks less implausible. 

Now you may think 1/10 million odds can happen. But its just more likely that Dream tampered with the odds and modded the game - its apparently a very easy value to change. Even if you have no experience in mods, you literally change one value -the ‘weight’ of ender pearl drops from piglin trades. It would be equally easy to undo and share files showing no evidence of cheating of cheating to the mod team when requested. Prior to these runs, Dream had complained a lot about the RNG in 1.16 and how it ruined his speedrunning experience. Given how much it frustrated him, the motive for changing the odds to benefit him is there. Instead of owning up to it, he’s digging in his heels which is a shame as anyone would have immediately accepted him changing the odds to make the game more fun to play while streaming. But he’s denying it. 

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

The thing I love about Otto, he is the guy who...Peter Parker is supposed to be the everyman, and in a lot of ways he is, but he is always dating the most beautiful women in the world...supermodels, Gwen Stacy...And Otto was the guy, I am not a big fan of the late-90s as an era of Spider-Man. There was a character called Stunner who came along and was this big Amazonian woman with super-strength, who was Otto's partner and love-interest and the big reveal was that she was a virtual reality simulation and the real person was an overweight woman in a virtual reality machine. But when Otto finds out he says, I didn't love you for what you looked like, I loved you for your mind...I can’t remember if she [Aunt May]  saw Betty [Brant] as a bit of a Jezebel because she was older

We er...we really need to unpack this. I already did a post where I cited the above as part of why Christos Gage should never have been allowed to write Spider-Man.

But lets dive deeper into the idiocy of this. 

First of all if nothing else the above quote and panels really do prove beyond doubt that Marvel knew what they were doing when they paired Slott and Gage...well sorta. Gage and Slott’s approaches to Spider-Man fundamentally come from the same place of fundamental misunderstanding and regressive beliefs thus they were perfect to work together. It’s just that Gage is a comparatively more competent writer than Slott and therefore Slott should’ve been HIS understudy and fill-in guy not the other way around.

So let’s dive into the less awful bits first. Like Slott Gage doesn’t know his continuity and is too lazy to even google it.

Let’s put aside how Stan Lee himself  stated Betty Brant is younger  than Peter NOT older, the age difference would’ve been insignificant enough (Peter was a senior in high school when he was dating Betty, that’s stated in the issues) so what is this ‘Jezebel’ crap? The fact his mind would go to that rather than just Aunt May thinking MJ would be a better match is at best eyebrow raising.

Moving on, the crux of his assessment of Otto and Stunner’s relationship is way off the mark. Ignoring the fact that Stunner and the reveals made about her occurred in 1994-1995 (so literally not the LATE 1990s at all), he’s totally distorted the story as it unfolded. As such let me show you some of the relevant pages.

Gage’s assessment of Otto and Stunner’s relationship hinges upon two interconnected ideas.

a) Otto was unaware that her stunning appearance was a facade and

b) That he didn’t care upon finding out

As you can see that is a distortion of what the actual stories conveyed.

Otto was always  aware Stunner’s appearance was a facade because he invented the technology that made it possible in the first place!

Otto also began dating her BEFORE she became Stunner. This does indeed support the idea that for him outer beauty is not that relevant. 

For myself I find this idea debatable for a few reasons. Not only in the above images does he directly refer to Stunner as beautiful and the love of such a beautiful woman makes him happy but in the classic Spec #75 Bill Mantlo implies Otto took a fancy to Felicia due to her being attractive.

I grant you it’s far from impossible to interpret that Otto in fact was referring to Stunner’s personality as beautiful and took a shining to Felicia for reasons beyond her looks. In fact I find that interpretation interesting. But both examples hurt the narrative of Otto being a man who doesn’t care about outer beauty, even before you get to the fact that in Superior he was oggling and actively trying to fucking rape Mary Jane! What exactly about her  ‘inner beauty’ led to him doing this?

Then of course you have his relationship with Aunt May which has been treated as genuinely romantic when it’s very unlikely to be that.

The truth is Doc Ock has been inconsistently written over the decades so pinning down that he’s a man who doesn’t care about a woman’s outer beauty in regards to his feelings for them is extremely iffy.

His dynamic with Stunner and Gage’s assessment is even iffier as the pages detailing his ‘courting’ of her prior to her becoming empowered can definitely be interpreted as him actively manipulating her for his own ends. He needed a test subject for his technology, a technology he was hoping could essentially ensure he’d live beyond the demise of his mortal body and mind (which obviously happened in Superior). Angela was that test subject, he either came across or scouted her out with the explicit intention of having her use his machine. 

Because we only get brief flashes of their relationship it’s unclear if he was 100% decieving and manipulating her (as he was to Anna Maria and Mary Jane) or if he was sincere in his affections, at least on some level. Maybe he even started out manipulating her but grew to genuinely care for her before or after her transformation into Stunner.

My point is it’s not this grand moral victory for Otto that he cared for Angela even though she was overweight.

Which brings me to the most damning thing about Gage’s comments.

According to him Otto is better than Peter because Otto didn’t date supermodels or sexy cat burglars.

Much like all his work with Otto before and during his Superior run, Gage practically wanks off the character.

You see Otto is ‘different. He’s not like ‘those other guys’, or more specifically ‘that Peter Parker guy’. HE doesn’t date supermodels or sexy cat burglars. 

He just keeps the sexy cat burglars as his ‘guests’ that he won’t let leave his lair, will date by deception and attempt to rape the supermodels and will probably manipulate vulnerable overweight women for his own selfish scientific pursuits and date them sincerely once they’ve transformed into wrestling divas.

Of course in reality, romantic and sexual attraction is something none of us can help and we are going to feel about whoever however we’re going to feel, and the harsh truth is a lot (but not all) of the time outer appearences do matter, or at least they do when it comes to initial attractions. Often in healthy relationships they matter less as time goes by, but are rarely totally irrelevant. Nobody, of any sex, gender or sexuality, is shallow for on some level taking looks into account for how they feel about a romantic or sexual partner, at least on some level.

In Peter’s case Gage’s assessment (which synchs up with Slott’s) of him as shallow is so asinine because he clearly doesn’t just care about looks. In fact semi-famously in the classic Romita stories his initial attraction for Mary Jane fades after he (incorrectly, and unfairly) starts to view her as shallow and little more than her looks.

No doubt about it that chicks’s as pretty as a pumpkin seed...and just about as shallow.

ASM #45*

Peter late of course dumps  Black Cat in part because she doesn’t love him for who he is, and only cares about him as Spider-Man. He wants someone who will share a life with him, whom he can connect with. If he was only interested in her because she was sexy why would he do that?

And of course this is to say nothing of the absolute denigration Gage’s comments pay to both MJ and her relationship with Peter.

I’ve felt this way for awhile now but to be blunt, if a writer ever just sums up MJ as a ‘supermodel’ I’m going to presume they either don’t understand her character and/or hold some messed up opinions. Putting aside how MJ hasn’t a model (super or otherwise) for most of her history it’s just messed up that everything else about her is dismissed in favour of pushing that profession and treating it as a summation of who she is as a character.** 

Because whenever creators or characters sum up MJ as a supermodel what they really mean is ‘she’s just a shallow, pretty face’.  Which is so facepalm worthy ironic because the crux of Mary Jane’s entire character since The Death of Gwen Stacy in 1973  has been that people THINK she is just a shallow pretty face but she in fact absolutely isn’t!

And aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall the stuff that is relevant to why she isn’t is literally the reason Spider-Man fell in love with her in the first place. All the guilt, regret, insecurities, bravery, sense of responsibility and inner strength that subverted what we thought we knew about her, that’s the shit that her and Spider-Man’s romance is built upon. 

How the fuck does anyone miss that! It’s not even like you need to read deeply to see it, just read a Wikipedia entry!

It isn’t the crux of Felicia’s character, but the same applies to her. What jackass in this day and age (or indeed since the 1980s) honestly thinks Black Cat is nothing but sex appeal? There is an entire goddam Black Cat ongoing series demonstrating she is more than that! Gage is a goddam relic at this point!

On the flipside of course is poor Anna Maria.

Once upon a time Anna Maria was the best character in Spider-Man. Back in the dark days of 2013 and 2014 when Superior was going strong, MJ was out of the picture and the best Spider-Man books on the stand were about a kid replacing a dead AU Peter Parker and Peter Parker’s clone, Anna Maria was a stand out.

A new character with a personality, likable, a new love interest for ‘Spider-Man’ that on paper made a certain amount of sense even though the circumstances were disgusting. And on top of that she provided a dash of representation that was handled in an appropriate way.

As time went by she gradually devolved as a character and went way off the rails to the point where now she’s being a misogynistic asshole to other women by judging them for their looks. It’s so fucked up because she herself has been judged for her looks, just in a very different way whilst the likes of those ‘shallow’ women she cites have never said a bad word to her or to my knowledge anyone else on the basis of how they were born. 

Good job Gage, this is probably the last time we’re going to see Anna Maria and you’ve fully transitioned me from a guy who kind of wanted her to stick around in some capacity as a regular supporting player for Peter into a guy who would be delighted for her to forgotten and never appear again. 

Fuck Gage.

Fuck Superior

Fuck the entire asinine, mishandled, clusterfuck of an era that outstayed it’s welcome circa December 2012!

*In fairness he does bring up he might just be thinking ill of MJ because he’s upset about other things. See, THAT is a more even handed and on point depiction of Peter Parker being flawed. But Stan Lee being a better writer than Gage or Slott shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone.

**Not to mention ‘supermodel’ shouldn’t even be used as shorthand for ‘shallow person’ in the first place. Are supermodels not people too? Are they incapable of being intelligent or having worth outside of their looks? I mean FFS we live in a world where this (starting at 3:37) really happened:

[shinrasfirst]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥

My muse is:   canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless /

Is your character popular in the fandom?  YES / NO.

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK.

Is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK.

Are they underrated?  YES / NO.

Were they relevant to the main story?  YES / NO. (I mean? I’m not sure? I hope he will be more important, but as it is, he could have been cut out of Part 1 of the remake.)

Were they relevant to the main character?  YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG. (Except that he kinda saved him.. I can’t answer these questions, I am so biased.)

Are they widely known in their world?  YES / NO. (?)

How’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL. Depends on who you ask, I’d say!

How strictly do you follow canon?

There isn’t much canon to go on, first of all. I am taking what I can get and expand on it. There’s probably some stuff about him that I don’t know, because I am notoriously bad at researching things properly, and also I forget stuff. So.. he’s canon-based as much as possible, but then majorly fleshed out by my own ideas because otherwise he’d be a very two-dimensional character.

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutual.

He’s wild and fun and crazy and could make for some interesting threads---

He is actually compatible with a lot of muses because he technically works for Shinra, but then doesn’t seem to give a lot of fucks about his employment status, meaning he can also work with the other side without me having to change his setting much.

He’s gorgeous. Look at him.

He is flirty and easy to smut with.

He has a completely unknown backstory that could be explored c;

Did you see that ass?

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?).  

He’s a bit nuts. If you’re looking for a predictable, soft, sweet romance or friendship, he is not your guy.

He'll probably die young. And there shall be angst and pain.

I’ve seen some people really reduce him to a maniac to lives on the road to attack random people. If that’s your idea of Roche then I am sure you wouldn’t be looking for threads with him~

He is tough to write love/romance with. Like proper romance.

He has a completely unknown backstory.. so my version might differ greatly from what you have in mind.

What inspired you to rp your muse?  

I played the Remake and driving on those motorcycles was insane but kind of fun - and then shows up this guy who just drove right into my heart as soon as he popped up on the screen, laughing like a mediocre villain from YuGiOh. I thought that was all it was going to be, but I was thrilled to see that it wasn’t. I just love this character. I rewatched his fight scenes with Cloud a hundred times. He is so.. peculiar. I just couldn’t stop thinking about him, and then I saw a bit more of him on tumblr, fanarts and such, and I wanted to give it a shot :)

What keeps your inspiration going? 

New headcanons about him that pop into my head. Finding other people who love him and talking to them & rping with them! Like with all muses, I tend to love them even more the longer I play them, compared to when I start out, because new stories around them develop, I get a clearer image of their character and backstory in my head, and new plans for their future :) On a more to-the-point level: quotes, poems, music, images, all those things give me inspiration. Also similar characters in other media, or stories that fit Roche and that I can recycle and reform into part of his.

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO. According to whom? I am alright with the way I write him, or I’d be doing it differently. Would Square Enix think I am doing a good job? Idk. Do other Roche rpers think I am? Idk. Does it matter? As long as there are people who enjoy writing with my version of him, I am doing my job, I think :) There are Roche portrayals I find “better” than mine in some ways, more developed, but I don’t really compare myself in that way. 

Do you frequently write headcanons?  YES / NO.

Do you sometimes write drabbles?  YES / NO.  

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day? YES / NO.

Are you confident in your portrayal?   YES / NO. Yes and now because while I stand to the way I write all my muses, Roche in particular is one I haven’t fully developed yet. There are things about his story I am still unsure about or have no clear ideas for yet. So, I’m not feeling insecure when I write him, but I am not overly confident in throwing him in any situation, because something might come up that’ll require me to think harder that I’d have to while playing.. e.g. Rufus.

Are you confident in your writing?  YES / NO. I’m no Rowling, I’m no Tolkien, I know that. But I think my writing is alright. I try to put some internal thoughts in my replies, describe the scene abit, offer some dialogue if applicable, and move the action forward. I am not writing a book here, I am writing something interactive, so my partner is my main concern aside from telling the story. I do feel like I’m doing an okay job at that, so in that sense I am confident in my writing.

Are you a sensitive person?  YES / NO. I’m not entirely sure what this is referring to, but generally I’d say no. I can deal with most topics, it’s pretty hard to offend me, I’m open to most things, and there are very few issues I feel like they can’t be solve with just talking about them.

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal?

It depends? I almost never get constructive criticism. What I absolutely accept is things like.. someone correcting mistakes I’ve made in terms of timelines or canon facts, because I am lazy by default and tend to not research something well and just wing it. So it might be that I’ll put some fake news into my threads that I have no problem with if someone corrects - actually, please do, I’ll gladly fix it. (Especially if they’re relevant to your muse.)

If someone dislikes a headcanon of mine or something that is particular to my portrayal of Roche, that’s really not something I aspire to change. I have my ideas of him and everyone else has their own. If a friend came to me and told me a certain headcanon of mine makes no sense because of the canon storyline or whatever, and it sounded valid to me, I’d consider that. That wouldn’t offend me. If someone just told me they dislike an idea I had, that is the kind of criticism I don’t really accept. That’s not criticism to me, that is a personal opinion that we disagree on. It’s not my problem if someone dislikes my portrayal, they don’t have to interact with it. I take no offense in that, unless it’s reported to me in a rude manner.

With regard to my writing? I don’t ask for criticism and I don’t really want it either. I know what areas I have to work on in order to improve, I don’t need anyone to give me pointers there. I have enough of that in my academic papers at university ;) This is a hobby, so I’m trying to have a good time and good plays with others, I’m not trying to win any awards. However, if I post a reply my partners aren’t sure how to work with (e.g. they need more dialogue, or more action) I am absolutely willing to edit it, no problem. Also, not just on tumblr/in the RPC but in general, people are really really REALLY bad at giving constructive criticism. It never ceases to amaze me how much people suck at that. Like I said, I don’t get offended easily, but it makes me laugh sometimes (e.g. after presentations at uni) how horrible the feedback comes across sometimes. And then everyone gets butthurt and I once again marvel at the fact that no lecturer ever gives advice on how to give good feeback. (I guess because a lot of lecturers can’t do it either.)

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character?  

Absolutely! It helps a lot. Sometimes it’s a real challenge, but those are necessary and very welcome while developing a character. Other people often think of things I didn’t even consider, so I welcome it when they come into my askbox with these questions :)

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why? 

Maybe? If it was a friend or an rp partner, I’d hear them out for sure. If it was someone I don’t even write with.. maybe not. Like, what’s the point? Clearly I made up my mind about it, so why would you come to me to inform me that you see it differently? Go right ahead, neither one of us writes these games, so both our versions are equally right or wrong. If it’s about something that could lead to an interesting discussion, though? I’d be interested to hear your thoughts.

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it?

I'd say some people like chocolate ice cream and some like vanilla. That’s okay. I’m not trying to please everyone on tumblr, I’m here to write what I want to write and if just one other person likes my portrayal, that can be enough for me :) If someone dislikes my portrayal, they’re free not to interact with me.

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it?  

I’ve written more characters that were absolutely despised by a good chunk of the fandoms I was in, than characters who were loved, I think. I couldn’t care less. If someone hates Roche - or any of my muses - that’s their thing and has nothing to do with me. As long as they don’t feel the need to inform me about it or send me hate over it, what’s it to me? I don’t need people to like my favorite characters, it has no influence on how I feel.

But also.. why would you hate Roche? Look at him, he’s amazing :D

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors?  

Sure. English isn’t my first language, I’m sure I make mistakes all the time. I’m not embarrassed by that, everyone makes mistakes, even people whose first language is English. That being said, don’t go weeding through my posts looking for mistakes, because I won’t go back and fix them in most cases, so it’s really a waste of time~

Do you think you are easy going as a mun?

I think so. I’m pretty relaxed most of the time, and I try to be polite and kind in any situation that comes up. I don’t get offended unless you’re accusing me of something I didn’t do, twist my words, insult my friends, or act like a total brat. Before I start a war with someone, I’ll usually withdraw myself from the situation. I am pro-unfollowing/blocking if I dislike someone. I would never send anon hate or write a call out. I’m not here for that. I think we should all try to be kinder than we feel, we should all show respect for others and tolerate differences, and we should try to treat people the way we want to be treated. Live and let live.

That’s about it, congrats for filling out!

Tagged by:  stole it. Tagging: anyone who’d like!

[mervinamoonishere]

Courage

It's valentine's day at Hogwarts. And Rowan is very nervous.

In her hands, she holds what must be the most important piece of paper she has ever had to carry; except for maybe, her potions class notes that she almost forgot to review right before a test so she had to pick them up from class to her dorm and it was stressful and not relevant right now.

She's walking through the corridors with no real path, looking like quite the fool and feeling quite foolish whenever she'd peek through another corridor or an ajar door, or anywhere where a human could fit because truth be told she was looking for a human. A certain fair-haired girl with slanted gold eyes. Sorta hard to miss but Rowan's not a good thrower so she misses every damn time.

Mervina Moon is nowhere to be found. Rowan's been wandering the school like a lost puppy looking for her owner; which is a quite terrible metaphor, Mervina would never treat her like an animal but alas her mind isn't wired correctly today, no time to tire herself in trying to find 'perfect metaphors' for her current situations.

So, she's holding a card on valentine's day and she's searching for somebody. She's confessing feelings for somebody. The somebody is Mervina.

And Merlin's beard, she's nervous! So horribly nervous that the sound of shaking paper is slowly driving her mad but she can't will her hands to stop quivering.

Oh god, why did she think this was a good idea? Well, she's got no clue! Her brain hasn't been quite the same after Mervina's, well, sudden existence; she's lost sense, she's losing focus in class, she's always making tea now! She didn't do that before. She doesn't even like tea that much, it's Mervina that does.

In the middle of the dungeons' main corridor, she halts rather dramatically. She questions, 'Can you blame yourself, Rowan?'

It's sorta hard to not admire Mervina's calm nature, especially when Merula (quite childishly, might she add) confronted her all those years ago and all Merv did was alleviate the situation, to throw water into the fire to try to extinguish it. And right after, in potions class, oh how lost she was! She felt like she didn't understand much with Snape's glare-y attitude (and the whole bulbadox powder incident). All it took was a simple glance at Rowan and Mervina was already on her tail, discussing the techniques and answering all of Rowan's 27 questions - yes she counted - with a smile and patience.

She would always push Rowan behind her with an arm outstretched, protecting her from Merula, Peeves, literally any vaguely menacing magical creature, a falling student that one time (she did feel bad that her first instinct was to push Rowan away rather than helping the poor guy but Rowan just kind had a heart attack for completely platonic reasons).

And in year 3, when Rowan felt so left out and worthless compared to Mervina's new friends, everything fixed itself just as soon as it started because Mervina is ridiculously in tune with emotions, and if it weren't for Mervina's unshed tears, this wouldn't even be happening and not even friends they could be called.

Plus, how could Rowan forget all the stupid stuff Merv does. Mocking Snape right in his class, badly, even making Merula lose her composure. That one time Rowan had her wet hair all over her face, making her look, and she quotes 'Like a bloody Bloody Mary, Rowan! What the fuck, I almost peed myself- Stop laughing!'. That's her personal favorite, she's never forgetting that one.

Their everyday hugs. They're just... perfect. And warm.

Also that time they almost kissed in flying class. That was- yeah. She just lost balance when Merv came to her and they kinda sorta almost bumped heads and kissed. Yeah. That happened.

She's beet red by the time she's close to the courtyard, and she hugs her little card closer to her chest, her heart parkouring all over her ribcage like an emotionally traumatized teenager, with parental issues, that just needs a hobby to get away from their toxic domestic environments. Mervina has her version of rambling and Rowan always listens and she almost tripped on a ridiculously small rock, honestly, she should watch where she's going instead of talking to herself about Mervina and not talk to her about her. 

Ah yes, eloquence.

--------------------------------------------------------------

If it had been any other day of the year, she'd be the laugh of the school. Luckily it's valentine's day, so carrying around a bouquet doesn't look as outrageous as it should.

Mervina had thought long and hard about this. Rowan has always been easier to get close to, she's affectionate, caring, and just lovely. Merula is very different. She couldn't even begin to think about giving Merula anything on valentine's day. She settled on just being friendly and hoping she'd get the hint. She's still not sure if she did but she looked embarrassed enough, so. She must've gotten something. 

Now, Rowan, she knew what to get. Flowers were always a favorite of Rowan, being a huge nerd of their meanings and such. It's perfect! She didn't even spend hours researching flower meanings and avoiding roses like the plague since Rowan doesn't like them, losing countless hours and money buying them only to then worry about them rotting when the day did come.

Was it worth it? Well, she doesn't know. The flowers are cute and all but if Rowan doesn't reciprocate her feelings then... what was she going to do?

It didn't help that everybody kept pairing up Merv with her two crushes. With Rowan is 'You guys are so cute!' and with Merula is 'Your chemistry is ridiculous!' and it would worsen whenever they'd hear them; Rowan got so embarrassed Merv feared she was uncomfortable, and Merula got so angry she feared there was no chemistry at all, just hate.

So, it poses the question: 'Does Rowan like her back, or are they just friends? Does she blush because she's flustered or incredibly embarrassed?'

For such a colorful bouquet, Merv did look like a storming cloud walking around the training grounds. She's never felt so lost, not in this sense anyway.

It's just- Rowan's so friendly, always so kind. She's a true friend, through and through. Right from the start, no matter what acclaimed weirdness she always talked about, Rowan's so easy to talk to and so eager. She's smart, stupid smart. Trouble with words? Ask Rowan, she sure will know something. Problem in charms class? Or maybe transfiguration? Well, guess what? Rowan Khanna exists! Thank goodness for that.

Her tie's always messy, no matter how many times she's taught Rowan how to do it. And when she's excited she flails her arms around, her robe sleeves flapping everywhere.

Oh and that time they almost kissed during flying class. Rowan never mentions it. Merv's too cowardly to do it either. It just sits there, like a big smug elephant in the room.

By the time she reaches the courtyard, it's sunset, which is stupidly romantic and as Mervina turns around to leave she spots familiar dark locks.

---------------------------------------------------------------

By this time, they're in their fourth year. They're not adults in any way but they're not children either. Still, the moment they even get a glimpse of each other, they hide their presents behind their backs, a comical action, almost cartoonish. Both girls looked like startled stoats, eyes like saucers. Only the birds broke the silence, and the fountain of the courtyard gave a pleasant sound to the atmosphere.

A minute passes and they open their mouths.

"Alright, I have something for you-"

"Fancy seeing you here, because-"

Oops. Not expecting that. How awkward. "Rowan, you can-"

"Please go first-"

They trade sighs before Mervina wears the pants. "We'll both do it on three, 'kay?" With Rowan's nod (albeit she's shaking all over), Merv counts down.

three, two, one

There are sounds of shuffling, neither of the girls really knowing of what since both idiots have their eyes closed. They open their eyes and process what's in front of them. Rowan's little pink card; Mervina's vibrant bouquet. Amidst their stupidness, they flush and laugh their asses off until their bellies ache. Oh, how embarrassing. What was there to worry about? Nothing! All that fussing for nothing.

The gifts switch places. Rowan's card is rosy, with lots of scribbled hearts and scratched out words because Rowan's rambling extends to her writing too; and Mervina's flowers were an odd bunch, but beautiful, with peonies, gilliflowers, buttercups, gerbera daisies, carnations, and sunflowers, Rowan's favorite flower.

Warmth weights on their chests for a while, admiring their presents like rare jewels. (Ugh, lovesick fools.)

With some courage, Rowan stands on her tippy toes and plants a peck on Mervina's cheek. Which was unexpected, and all Merv can do is hide behind her little card, red as a tomato until she breaks out laughing, Rowan not too far behind.

~~~~~~~~~~

Just finished it. This has been sitting on my drafts for a wEEK. Welp enjoy it cause it’s cute

[saundraswriting]

Hercules Chapter Three

SUMMARY:The Case continues with some interviews of the victims families. Morgan and Reid work on the Geological Profile. Reid begins pushing himself hard, and Morgan is the one to calm Reid down. It only works for a little bit when the realization hits the entire team that with the lack of connection and the breakthrough Reid finds, Reid will be the one to solve the case by working himself to death.

WARNINGS: Maybe slight self-harm? Spencer is pushing too hard.

Previous // Next

Hotch and Gideon were on their way to Leonard Davis' home. Mrs. Mary Davis, his mother was their interviewee. "Mrs. Davis, are you home? My name is Aaron Hotchner. I am with the BAU at the FBI. I wanted to ask you a few questions." Hotch said loudly.

"Hold your horses. I'm coming. Haven't I answered enough questions? but come in, come in." Mary held the door open, and only Hotch's years of experience prevented his flinch. Her blonde hair was falling out if its clip, she was dressed in a teal cami and black yoga pants. She had deep bags under her eyes and a half empty bottle of gin in her left hand.

"Hello. I'm Mary. If we could hurry this up, I have a lot to do yet." Mary stood by the sink, took a swift swallow of the gin and dumped the rest down the drain. "Self-medication was okay for a little, but time continues on and so should I"

"He was in the top 15 of his class. He was going to do great things I just knew he would. I was so happy to find out that his meds were working and that he liked them. " Mary's voice was as soft as the wind.

"Medications for what?" Hotch asked?

"Depression. His best friend was his sister. She was killed by a drunk driver when she was 16. He was 13. she had left in a hurry when we were fighting over the divorce announcement. After words I sent Leo to a therapist to help with the issues he was going through. I figured it couldn't hurt, right? Turned out he really liked going. Sorted out a lot of problems that Leo was having at the time. Things looked like there were turning up and then he turned 15. He began reading, psychology, sociology, Buddhism, Hinduism.  He would question me randomly, about my thought on God and the state of the world and Creationism among other things. Please remember I wouldn't have even noticed had I not gone into his room the night he was murdered. I saw the books and I understood. Leo was lost and confused, all I did to help was hand him over to a therapist.  I never forced him to go to church with me, I let him return to therapy seeing it may help him. Then 3 weeks later Leo is found strangled to death." Mary sniffed and rubbed her eyes. "Are we done here? I don't want to talk about Leo anymore. I have several appointments today as well. "

"We don't have any more questions for you.  Thank you for your time, Mary. If you need us please call." Gideon said, handing over his and Hotch's card.

"Good day to you as well." Mary walked them out.

Hotch and Gideon arrived at the station a few minutes after Morgan and JJ returned from their interview with Lucy Basset. They walked into Spencer's cave  where coffee cups littered the table.

"Pretty Boy, got anything?" Morgan asked.

"Yeah, sit please. I talked to Garcia and if this doesn't check out. then we'll move on. First, you guys; what did you find out?" Spencer pointed to the seats round the table.

"Ophelia resents the fact that her dad died. vocally questioned God. Mom is on meds and Ophelia's been running the household since she was 16." Morgan explained.

"Leo was a great student. Was in therapy for the divorce + death of his sister. Leo was researching psychology, sociology, Buddhism, and Hinduism. He was vocal but not drastically so." Gideon explained. Reid's eyebrows rose but wrote the observations in the notes taped to the wall opposite of the maps.

"Ophelia refused to light the candle of her father's shrine Lucy made. Besides that, I am not seeing any family involvement." JJ mentioned.

"Which makes sense considering the amount of violence the victims suffered But it wasn't torture becasue it wasn't for a period of time, the cause of death is the only wound on them. So not a sadist, not family, does that mean we have a run-of-the-mill serial killer whose delusional we need to crack?" Morgan ground out through his teeth, frustrated.

"I may have suspects. It's a long shot but worth a try. Garcia found two people in the 20 Mile radius of the image the relevant sites make that have RR as their initials. I labeled and mapped out the relevant places: Potential kill site based of distance, the dump sites and family homes. When I get the actual kill sites I can narrow it down more-anyway-I feel like I'm missing a link, a piece to the puzzle. The map isn't looking right at all. I did the locations in order from oldest murder to most recent and in crime order so family home to kill site to dump site. It will get more accurate with more information. I know that with the mass of uncertainties that we have right now, this is going to take a while but it is the biggest help we have. Feel free to look in here if you need anything, this map will update as I get information. I will keep working on this. There may be a pattern." Spencer rambled quickly. He gulped out of his coffee cup.

"Sirs and madame, we have the official kill sites now. Forensics gave us a very close locale adn we checked them out to get the exact coordinates. I have them for you Agent Reid." A uniform handed out a list of places to each of the BAU.

"Come here." Reid demanded. The two consulted the map for a few quiet moments and then the purple marks were moved. Reid's key gained a new color: Orange for new information and the black got changed to permanent. The team took the pause to gather their thoughts. Morgan used the table speaker to call Garcia.

"Garcia, any new info on our possible suspects"

"Well, hello, to you too, Chocolate Bar."

"Hey mama. Please give me something good."

"Well you are down to one. Numero dos has been found in jail-GTA. Numero uno is worth a shot." She rattled of an address. Hotch jotted it down and left.

"Pretty Boy, anything else?" Morgan asked.

"No! Damn it, this case is residing on my ability to crunch numbers and find a pattern, on my geological profile. And I can't make rhyme or reason." Spencer ranted. Morgan grabbed Spencer and herded him out of the room.

"Break time. Get some coffee, sit and breathe, Spencer." Morgan began making a cup, pulling hazelnut creamer out of the fridge.

"No, Morgan! I need to get back in that room. This profile. is the only thing going for this case right now. There is no vicitmology, no sexual sadism, we really can't form a normal profile." Reid stated. He sipped at his coffee, eyes widening at the taste.

"Spencer, calm down man. you'll go into a anxiety attack if you keep worrying like this. Listen to me, everything will be fine. Ask a local uniform to get the distances if they can. After that begin your in-depth look at everything. You are fine, you're doing great. Chill out a little." Morgan soothed.

"Morgan, you wouldn't have but hazelnut creamer into my coffee, would you? Thank you, I don't deserve a friend like you. But right now, even the smallest pieces of paper, the smallest connection can help us." Spencer said.

"You can go back in, if you calm down. Promise me?" Morgan pleaded. Spencer nodded and sipped his coffee slowly.

Morgan  stood near Spencer, silent and still as a sentinel. He had a bad feeling about this case and they still had one family to interview.

"Morgan, Reid, I'm gonna visit the Brown's. Garcia said that Tabitha Well's parents are drug addicts won't be any help. They are in rehab and the program forbids visitors." Gideon said. Morgan nodded and helped Spencer stand straight. He was swaying slightly. Spencer yawned deeply. Morgan felt his concern for his friend grow.

"Let's go. We can get started looking at the G.P. Can I have a uniform please?" Morgan said. Matthew stepped forward. The trio walked into the map room.

"We need the exact distances between each point on this map. As soon as possible, please." Spencer paused "And each victim's personal effects. Tell me that you did search their rooms and houses." Spencer said.

"I believe so, at least as much as the families allowed. I'll be right back." Matthew smiled timidly at Spencer before leaving.

"Hey, man. Mr. Matthew is into you. You gonna jump on that?" Morgan teased. The name tasted sickly sweet and tangy on his tongue like new metal.

Spencer sighed and shook his head at Morgan's antics. He appreciate the never-ending support he had gained from the team when he came out as gay months ago. JJ and Garcia had been enjoying it the most though, they spent the evenings at the clubs and bars checking out the men and finding dance partners for the girls.

"I don't do case relationships. You know that. Why aren't you hitting Maddie up? She seems into you." Spencer shot back.

"No. I'm not, uh, feeling it now." Morgan answered. Spencer side-eyed him but didn't push the issue. Morgan exhaled in relief.

"So, I am thinking about the connection between victims will be unorthodox in comparison to a 'normal' serial killer. It will be something in common with the age group. 14-20 year olds- teenagers. Maybe they are in favor of a controversial topic. one of their generation's problems brought them all to the attention of the killer." Spencer rambled, writing under the victims: Atheism.

"Okay, they are high-school to college students from messed up homes all vocal about something their generation is facing. Drugs? Legalization of weed is a big problem, Colorado, Washington and the District of Colombia all legalized recently. Maybe the UnSub didn't want it legalized and saw them using in the open?" Morgan questioned aloud.

"Today, 90% of teenagers don't do drugs-including weed-, smoke tobacco, underage drinking. The majority of people gunning of marijuana legalization believe it is a victimless crime and unlike other substances aren't full of horrible chemicals. So no, that isn't it, I think. Not drugs, not war, not environment...Gay rights?" Spencer looked over at Morgan.

"Back up, boy wonder. Why not war and environment? And why write down Atheism?" Morgan's confusion drew Spencer's gaze once more.

"If our UnSub was against the current War, don't you think that there would have been something majorly different in his behavior? People that make statements dealing with War or politics blow coffee shops up, gas stations, malls. Large, obvious signals. If the victims were on either side, it would have been obvious even for the uniforms here. If it was environmental issues, they would have home set-ups: recycling on a very detailed scale, composting, gardens, homemade snacks, re-purposing of things. So far each victim has dealt with a devastating death close to them. When that happens, people in general turn to God, but each person in this case has turned away from God at some point at some level. A typical problem with many people of this age group is coming out to people that matter and if they will be accepting or rejected. So it could be both but from what I have heard about the families, victims, and their lives none were open or closeted Bisexuals, or Homosexuals. I am heavily leaning towards Atheism. We will know for sure when Matthew comes back with the evidence." Spencer rambled quickly, his words practically attached to one another. Morgan tilted his head and shrugged, agreeing with the young genius.

"Dr. Reid. I have the evidence you requested. Unfortunately we don't have anything to give you for distances. When we looked on G.I.S technology and the ones we used varied, so we validated the coordinates for you to calculate." Matthew explained from the doorway.

"Damn it. That is going to take me a while. Okay-Morgan go outside and sort through the evidence. Use social media of any type, journals, diaries, photos, to see if there is anything relevant or strange. I need to not be bothered while I do these calculations, they are going to be extensive." Spencer ordered, He turned to the map. He stilled, body tightening with a laser-like focus. Morgan chuckled softly and herded Matthew out the door.

"Okay. You heard Spencer. Lets get cracking. He is gonna work himself death on this. We can at least help." Morgan spoke to Matthew and the three other volunteers he had gathered along the way. Everyone grabbed a different tub and began sifting through the journals, pictures, and printed pages from social media.

************

Gideon arrived at the Brown's home. He knocked and patiently waited to be invited in. "Kimberly Brown? My name is Jason Gideon. I am an agent of Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. I have a few questions for you and you family. I shouldn't be too long." Gideon said entering the well designed home.

"Okay, Agent Gideon. I have a few minutes to talk. Come on in." Kimberly was dressed in a pencil skirt and blue button up shirt.

"I just want to know how Everett was before he died. How was he in school. Did someone close to him die?" Gideon asked. Kimberly grabbed two glasses and filled them with ice and water.

"Everett was a good student. Not the greatest, but he did well with football and baseball pre-seasons, season, and off-seasons. He was the star Quarterback for three years and and the star pitcher for two. He loved it. We were immensely proud. He was working on the final things to be ready for Oregon State University to play football for them and go into business and economics. It was the best thing that happened to us." Kimberly said. Gideon noticed that her tone was rather practiced and empty.

"Who were talking to? Cause that wasn't my brother. He did football for so long becasue you would disown him if he did. He wanted to be a doctor, Pediatrician specifically. He wasn't going to play at OSU. He decided his grades would be more important. Everett loved science. He never made a decision without thinking all the variables through." A male voice from the door said.

"Cameron. Enough." Kimberly snapped harshly.

"He wrote me letters-emails really. I brought them with me. Some were really strange, written in a code or something? I'm not sure. With Mom into fashion design and Dad into the stocks, Everett really didn't have anyone to turn to. So he vented to me. He would even write the first word of the subject line: Ventilation so I knew not even to open those ones. I did sometimes anyway. I go to Columbus for English and History. I am a novelist. I felt that he may not want a response but he deserved to get one." Cameron explained nervously.

"Can we have those? They would be marvelous help. I know he recent death must be difficult but this could help find the murderer." Gideon pointed out. Cameron nodded his consent.

"I can show you his room? I know that the police would have taken things they found relevant, but the BAU is different, isn't it?" Cameron ignored his mother's protests and showed Gideon to Everett's room. The room was tidy, shelves and cube organizers were everywhere. Everything had a place but it seemed that the items didn't return instantly to its place. The room had small stacks of books here and there, probably from the overflowing bookshelf. The clothes were in the hamper, and the walls covered in pictures and collages. "We traveled a lot. Everett believe even if he was a science man, he should be creative with something. called it Art therapy. He did these all himself." Cameron explained.

"I am sorry. We work hard to stop these people but more just slip right through." Gideon looked around and on the desk saw a piece of paper with what looked to be gibberish. He picked it up to look closer.

"That may be true, agent Gideon. but at least you try. Hey, that is what the strange messages looked like." Cameron waved at the paper. Gideon put it in an evidence bag and nodded at Cameron.

"Thanks Cameron. We will keep you posted. If you need anything here's my card. Also at the police station." With that Gideon showed himself out, noticing the two cups from earlier were gone as was Kimberly. He continued to the station.

***********

"Okay, gather round, I've got something." Gideon said upon arrival.

"Me too. And Reid is working and said to not be disturbed. I will fill him in." Morgan said. A shout from the map room had them racing.

"Sorry. I just finished all those distance calculations. I had to do the distance between homes and kill sites, kills sites and dump sites, and homes to dump sites. I also did places last seen when they applied and kill sites. And the distances between the homes of the victims for information. That was 20 intricate equations. I had to validate each coordinate with my info and the police to make sure it was right....and I'm rambling." He cut himself off at Morgan's look.

"What did you find out Reid?" Hotch demanded.

"That it isn't a number compulsion. Each distance is different. And the points aren't making a closed shape, in any order. I rearranged this 6 different times but nothing made sense. I think I am missing a location. Or the homes isn't where they were picked from. Any evidence support home break-ins?" Spencer asked. Hotch shook his head. "So, it isn't the home that are important. That isn't the grab site. I need coffee." Spencer's stomach growled.

"And food maybe?" Morgan commented.

"I will be fine. Give me some more time and coffee and I will have more." Reid said leaving the room.

"Wait, you're a genius but you haven't had a breakthrough? What good are you?" Someone said sardonically. Reid and the rest of the team froze instantly; Reid from terror-that tone brought back awful memories and the team from reacting to Reid's tense body language. JJ and Morgan felt murderous.

"I am a genius, maybe-if an IQ of 187 reading 20,000 words per minute, holding three PhD.s, two bachelor degrees and working on a third is considered genius. But I don't like measuring intelligence with numbers and such. People refer to me as a genius, if that helps. I have just crunched out 120 intricate equations, 20 for each of the 6 different order I have arranged them trying to find a pattern. In my head. From this conversation alone I can tell your life story and I am trying to do the same for someone I have never met and leave me dead people to examine. I think what progress I and my team has made is more than you and your colleagues. Now, I was being nice, pleasant even. If this happens again, I can't guarantee that the two fully-certified murderous looking agents behind me won't do you bodily harm. So do me, you and everyone a favor and sit down and shut up." Spencer sassed. The room was deadly silent. Morgan couldn't (didn't) stop the proud smug look from settling on his face. His Pretty Boy just went Alpha Male on the local bully and Morgan couldn't be happier.

In the quiet Spencer made his coffee and returned to his room. He settled in a chair and rubbed at his temples drinking his coffee. Morgan looked in quickly and returned to JJ. "JJ, can you order some food. I don't know when the last time he ate was. He and us need something, anything. His sugar is getting high, too much sugar in one cup let alone several pots. Gideon, Hotch, I have something to share. Reid needs to hear this as well." the trio commented they'd be there in a minute.

Spencer stood in the middle of the room, hugging himself and trembling. Morgan stepped in close after shutting the door.

"Hey, Spence. You did awesome out there. You went all alpha on him and it rocked his world. Come on, sit down. You are fine. No one is gonna hurt you. I'm right here. He was an asshole and deserved the chewing out you gave him." Morgan sat Reid down and gave him a tight hug, exaggerating his breaths, trying to get Reid to catch on. Reid did, calming down slowly.

Spencer tensed slightly at the beginning of the hug but quickly reveled in the warm, human contact. Morgan and JJ and Garcia may touch him often and Gideon and Hotch less often but no one hugged him like this. He usually got fleeting touches, faint and quick as a butterfly's wing beat. Morgan may touch him the most but only claps on the shoulder, fingertips to a wound's dressing, a  guiding hand on his elbow. No one ever touched him like this; with love and kindness, with the purpose to comfort and share your troubles. 'Isn't that the purpose of hugs in difficult times? To share your burdens with a second pair of shoulders? To share your space with another human, to make the world more bearable?' Spencer thought. He opened his (when did they close?) closed eyes and caught a swirly ray of the sun covering part of Morgan's neck. He knew from tracing Morgan's with his eyes and his own with his fingertips the eight outer swirls and the larger middle one from memory, seeing it this close made Spencer anxious for reasons he didn't know.

Morgan felt Spencer stop trembling but tense up. Morgan only squeezed tighter. He was confused about his reactions to the young genius as of late. He could barely tolerate seeing the look of awe and admiration in Matthew's eye when Spencer spoke in general, the look only got worse with direct communication. Morgan didn't even really understand why he felt so protective of Reid either. He understood as friends you try to protect one another but Morgan was ready to tear the asshole from earlier (Thomas)'s head off so thinking so little of the genius. Morgan wanted to make sure Spence was cared for-eating healthy and sleeping right. He wanted to be the one to administer the human contact he knew Spencer needed. Not just the fleeting touches he gave out but hugs, wonderful hugs that lessened the pressure Reid felt from the world. He wanted to be near Spencer if only to watch him think then so be it. Morgan never felt this way about anyone before. He knew that this was beyond friendship he was feeling but wasn't sure what it was he felt for the Boy Wonder.

"Thank you Morgan. I needed that. I was really scared. I thought he might hit me." Spencer said as they broke apart.

"Do you need any help? I am not sure what I can do but I can sure as hell try." Morgan glanced around and realized that with the case looking the way it was, Spencer would be the one to solve it. He would synthesis the evidence, he would be the one to get the breakthrough, he would be the one ending up overworked, overstressed, malnourished and fatigued.

"No, I've got it. could you get me some...uh...food? Please?" Spencer asked hesitantly. Morgan laughed.

"JJ is already on it. We will give you updates if we get anything. I will be around if you need anything. Just take your time and work you magic. I found something earlier, I was going to tell Hotch and Gideon right now. You keep working. If we need you I'll get you." Morgan left and stepped to the right of the doorway, seeing Hotch and Gideon standing there.

"We believe these texts to Leo, Tabitha, Ophelia, Everett, the emails from Everett to Cameron, the diary of Ophelia are written in a code. We also believe that the note you got from Everett's room was the key. I think he was a recent addition to whatever group uses this code, no one else had a key. We need to use the  key to crack the code. Does anyone want to try?" Morgan asked Hotch and Gideon.

"Neither one of us would be able to do it in a timely manner. We know you are terrible with codes and riddles, Morgan. That leaves Reid and Garcia. JJ is having a rough time with the press right now." Hotch mused.

"Bring it all in here. You know that I am the best and really the only option."Reid called from his room.

"No, Spence, you have enough to do Garcia may have a program she can run." JJ said.

"You have to break the code first and then give it to her or she has to run all her programs on it. I can read 12 languages and am pretty smart I can at least break it quick. Hand it over." Reid strode out, sleeves rolled up and pen spinning in circles. A different persona than when he is calculating something where he has a specific formula and direct end goal, this is thinking-trying one idea to reject it and go to another. He needs to be loose, have no end goal planned.

Spencer began pacing and muttering, spinning his pen and pausing every once and while when a train of thought might lead somewhere. 15 minutes in and he stopped and looked up.

"It's pig latin." He said awestruck. Morgan internally sighed at the tone, it was usually followed by a statistic or random or obscure facts. Morgan wasn't wrong. "The single-page is a cheat sheet for most common transitions between English and Pig Latin. I mean a large number of the population can say they have heard of Pig Latin, smaller percentage say they have heard it, and an even smaller portion say they have ever spoken a word of Pig Latin. This is a great idea. It also means that whoever this correspondence was from or to is smart and manipulative. He had to know and be able to teach these kids Pig Latin, and to get them to use it willingly when talking about this group without brainwashing or violence is no easy feat. If they write in code then no sneaky parents will understand if they accidentally see it. Garcia should be able to help, I can if she can't." Spencer handed back the cheat sheet and return to his lair of maps and used coffee cups.

"Hey, man. None of them were open or closeted Bisexuals or Homosexuals. Leo and Ophelia were openly Pro-gay rights but I don't know about the others." Morgan said to his retreating back. Reid paused and turned.

"Nothing of relevance. So I was wrong. That word is around me more in the case than my life.  But at least we aren't dealing with homophobia or something, those cases are touch and go. So it has to be Atheism. We are dealing with religion." Spencer saw Hotch's mouth open. "No, I don't know what that means, but we have something. We can work with something. Give me some time to think." Reid walked in and shut his door.

"That kid is going to kill himself with this case." Morgan murmured. The others consented their agreement.

Previous // Next

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Okay, The focus of the fic shifts from here. This isn’t a case fic so to speak, it is a soulmate au fic. So be prepared for that. 

[hobiwonder]

Conspicuous (m) |

Genre: Smut, PWP. Sugarmama!Reader, Sugarbaby/little!Jungkook. 

Pairing: reader x jungkook. Reader is older.

Warnings: detailed description of oral sex, intercourse, creampie, cream pie eating, dirty talk, noona kink and just overall badly written porn lolll.

Words: 7.1k

Summary: Pretty docile jungkook falls for a cynical old witch. you kinda like him too i guess.

a/n: so i wrote this a while ago and it was shit but then i edited this slower than a turtle and realised it’s not much better lmao but im kinda trying to move on from hating my writing so here u go :// it is what it is. i hope u guys semi-like this :)) also im a big fat liar and can’t stick to update dates so pls 4give.

It had been a rough day. You had over 4 meetings and a ton of paper work to look over before you signed and made a few deals for your company that had been in the works for months. Signing on new contractors to make your company’s newest tech products hadn’t been an easy feat. Finding honest companies with good work ethic, a spotless track record of their dealings before with other major enterprises was also not an easy task. You were known to be a meticulous worker, settling for nothing but the best when it came to the products your company launched. Finally, after months of designing and drafting the first prototype for the newest series of cameras and mobile phones, your company was about to launch their new line. This project had been your baby for a long, long time.

Some would argue that you hadn’t had to work hard for anything in your life. Inheriting your father’s company at the ripe age of 23 had made you nothing but bitter with the way your life had turned out. You were young and impressionable, and wanted everything from the world. There was nothing that you thought was out of your reach with a billion-dollar inheritance anyway. Yet the possibility of having to take over your father’s entire company due to his sudden and inconveniently timed illness had never crossed your mind. It had been very sudden. One day you had been planning a trip to Paris with your friends and the next day at 8am you had to fly down to Seoul to head the board meeting. By 9pm, you had been voted the new Chief Executive Officer. You had been thrilled at first, trying to make the best of the situation that you were slam dunked into. However, it was hard to keep up the optimistic façade when you had discovered that you were only voted in because the mistrust that your father had built in his own company had lead all the prospective candidates for the job to vote you in. Handing you the position just to ultimately micromanage under the pretence of ‘guiding’ you had seemed a better option to all the other high ranking employees than to trust each other at handling the company by voting on someone from it who probably knew the company inside and out.

Your father was a clever bastard. You hated him, but you had to give it to him for creating such a passively aggressive hostile environment where none of his officials trusted anyone but him. Which ensured that when his demise came, the position that he had held in his own company for decades would be seamlessly passed down to you, without anyone accusing your father of manipulating the rules. Each day passed and the more you held on, just out of spite for your father and the retched men filled workplace that you were in charge of, the more rivals you made out of the men twice your age, greying and still hitting on you despite insisting that they saw you as their ‘own daughter.’ It was infuriating, disturbing and honestly, quite disheartening, when all your dreams of traveling the world, making a name for yourself as a photographer, working with expressionists to runway models to just taking pictures of breathtaking landscapes, had been shattered. Though, there was no point on dwelling. Your father had barely believed in your dreams nor ever payed attention whenever you tried to steer the conversation in the direction of what you wanted to do. To put it simply, if it did not generate revenue – and fast – your father had no interest in your dreams. You had learned that quite young and kept it all to yourself, albeit the longing you felt in the pit of your stomach for someone who would root for you, remained. Someone who would follow and support your journey. But what use is there for that special someone when the dream no longer lived?

That’s what you told yourself each night that your mind would wander to useless thoughts of what could have been and what definitely wasn’t. You were a cynic by nature, but you had tried to defeat that part of yourself once upon a time. No longer did you inhibit these tendencies when they came in so handy being the youngest CEO your company was likely to see. Each decision you had made had been opposed to the maximum. First they were careful, trying not to out their true intentions. When you showed no signs of quitting or budging from your position, all the men had been quite shameless in opposing you as well as their public display of disdain for you. When you worked with the wolves every day, it was hard not to become a pessimist and even harder to not let it suck all emotions out of you until nothing was left but the ever dull numbness that you worked with every day.

Until him. Until he seemingly just showed up in your life one day, looking ever like the lost little boy who was searching for his mother at the fair. Yes, he literally looked too kind, too good to be true. With his too big innocent eyes, slightly pouted lips, eyebrows furrowed charmingly as he held the flyer in his hand, trying to figure out if he was in the right building or not. He’d been chatting with the receptionist when you’d entered the building with your assistant trailing beside you going over the day’s agenda. At first you had barely glanced at him as you approached the reception to pick up some forms that your assistant was supposed to but you figured, why not? You’re passing through anyway. You weren’t a monster, as much as everyone at your company believed you to be. When you really had a good look at him, your heart had skipped several beats, taking in how handsome he really was.

He’d been leaning over the counter pointing something out to Somin, the main receptionist while she shook her head apologetically at him, her face twisting into a pitying expression.

“Sorry darling, we’re looking for professional companies to shoot the commercial. I’m afraid there is nothing we can do.”

“I-I have a portfolio though. Please, would you have your b-boss or anyone really, have a look at it?” He was almost pleading by this point. This made Somin sigh, leaning forward in her seat to give him an eyeful of her breasts. You knew he was getting an eyeful from the smirk on her face and the almost visible battle he was having with himself to not look down at her chest.

“Sweetheart, there is no point okay? Our boss won’t be interested in cute little boys like you with little to no experience with professional campaigns. Personally, I think she’d eat you alive. Why don’t you meet me in a few hours and I can get you some other gigs? I know a lot of people.” You almost gagged at the sugary sweet voice she had put on for him, twirling a strand of her hair.

You almost wanted to fire her but knowing you didn’t have time to deal with that headache, you settled for letting her know you were watching her unprofessional behaviour. Throwing down a pile of papers for her to forward to the relevant departments, you made yourself known, interrupting her flirting when she visibly jumped at your voice.

“Put your tits back in your blouse Somin, before I fire you.”

“I-I, ah, yes ma’am.” She muttered looking down quickly adjusting in her seat as she clicked away on her computer, no doubt trying to look like she wasn’t just hitting on the boy. “I was just letting him know we don-”

“Send him in.”

“Wait, are-”

“Somin, send him in.” You said it slower, to get your point across that you didn’t need her input on any decision you made. Even as frivolous as this one.

Or so you thought.

Jungkook, if possible, had looked even more startled than Somin. Almost doubling over, tripping on his way over when he realised who you were and that you had agreed to meet him.

Turns out, that decision was not frivolous at all. Considering how little time it took you to decide that he was yours and that you would move any mountain in the world you could to see a smile on his face after you let him shoot the magazine cover for your company’s monthly issue. It wasn’t the commercial he was hoping to shoot, despite having an remarkable portfolio. Nonetheless, it was enough to have the sunniest smile you had ever seen on anyone. Most of all, it was sincere. He had been honest, too honest, letting you know that he desperately needed this job. He was two months behind his college tuition and if he didn’t make any payment, he would be kicked out. At first you had contemplated the chances of him lying to you about his backstory to get a gig. After all, the exposure that your company or merely being associated with your company afforded, was enormous. Enough to get anyone started on their feet with the name of your company on their resume. But there was no doubt of his truth. Firstly, his clothes did all the talking. The poor boy was wearing a hoodie a size too small, shoes almost giving away at the stitches but most of all, his eyes. They were the kindest that you had ever come across. They showed the kind of hope in them that you had for yourself six years ago. Even though it was obvious that his situation was in dire need of saving, probably no other option after this, he still held on with stubbornness and tenacity you only wished you had held on to. Not the one where you go months arguing your point just to wear everyone out and get your way to prove yourself. Not just because you could and you were the CEO. But because you believed in yourself. Jungkook believed in himself and his efforts. In the short amount of time you spent with him that morning, you learned more about him than you had learned about yourself in all the 29 years you had been alive.

The rest had been history. It had started out with a job for him and turned into so much more. The first time you had kissed him was when he was shooting the cover page. You never went to any of the magazine shoots unless you were in a featuring story, but your heart had betrayed you when you tried to tell yourself you didn’t really need to see him. He was nothing special to you. That thought process went to shit when your lips had met his and the undeniably soft moan he had let out in surprise of your action. A kiss turned into secret rendezvous in your office when everyone was packing up and leaving while you pressed him into your office desk with your body straddling his, tugging the sweetest moans out of his soft mouth as your hand worked his length. He never asked for more; at first. Just relishing in the moments of tenderness you provided him unlike your cold exterior and dealings with him on a normal basis. But these stolen moments in your office turned into him staying at your place almost every night of the week. At first you told yourself that he was a grown man, you didn’t need to worry if he had dinner or if the heater at his place was working alright. But who were you fooling anyway? One noisy growl from his stomach and you were out of your office, motioning him to follow you. And he did, eyes wide, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

Watching him eat was one of your favourite pass times. He made so much noise, munching his food loudly like a baby that all it did was make you crazy from inside out. Making it harder and harder to keep an emotional distance from him while you kept up this mutually beneficial arrangement. It was hard keeping him at an arm’s length when he was so open and willing to share his heart with you. He was smart, he was diligent in his affection, kind, caring, shy. Utmost importantly, he believed in you, the goodness in you. It made you feel guilty at night when both of you lay in your post coital bliss, him snoring lightly beside you while his head lay on your arm. Guilty that he took even the smallest gestures at such high value, looking at you like you were the centre of his universe when you did so much as buy him a pair of cashmere gloves and scarf in the cold unforgiving months of winter. You knew it wasn’t just because of the money or the things that you would buy for him. You knew this because the first time you transferred him money without him knowing, it wasn’t spent until 3 weeks later when he was actually expecting his pay check. And those 3 weeks, you were stuffed so full with his random displays of affection whenever you were with him. He would make sure to touch you as much as he could whenever he was around. Telling you again and again how wonderful you were every chance he got. Saying how much you inspired him and gave him hope for any future for himself knowing how much stress you were always under. It was almost suffocating as you weren’t used to it all but slowly, you realised you were spoiled. You doubted anything less in the future would satisfy you.

Tonight was no different. Maybe a little different. If anything had changed in the months that you had met Jeon Jungkook, was that you had learned that even big, muscly boys like him, who were no less than men judging solely from the rippling muscles, and by god the best fucking 8 pack you had ever seen, could be just as attention demanding as a 5-year-old. Jungkook was a certified baby boy. He was your baby boy. However, tonight, you didn’t need his needy whinges no matter how much your core complained otherwise. He had gotten home shortly after you, all the while huffing and puffing about his new lecturer and how strict he was with his marking. You had hummed along with his complains while he took off his shoes, throwing his backpack aside and had made his way over to you towards the counter where you’d been standing, looking over some paperwork while you sipped on your freshly brewed coffee.

He had wrapped you into a warm back hug – the boy was all heat, always – resting his head on your shoulder with a pout that could give a toddler a run for his money when he noticed your lack of response to his nuzzling in the crook of your neck, no doubt, trying to get you to reciprocate and coddle him like you usually did to make him feel better. You had warmed up to him, and only for him, a lot. But apparently, not enough for Jungkook.

“Noona,” He whined again, pressing tighter against your back, his taller stature looming over yours when he stands straighter, annoyed at your lack of reaction to his pouting face.

“Hmm… go have dinner, it’s in the fridge.” He made a noise in the back of his throat, much like a whine, poking head in front of your face, trying to block your way of the documents you were currently perusing.

“Jungkook, not now. Eat your dinner or go play overwatch please.” It was apparent that you were done with the conversation. At your stony dismissal, he huffed, but nonetheless, went and sat at the dining table, stabbing his fork in the plate. Clearly showing his annoyance and that he was less than happy with you. At that point, you barely heard anything besides the ringing in your ears and the pounding headache that had a hold of you since this morning. You really needed to have all the paperwork sorted tonight or you would be in deep shit. Jungkook could wait. His brattiness always chose the most inappropriate of times to surface.

He stared at you all the while he stabbed his food to mush before taking a bite. You could almost feel his eyes burning a hole in your forehead. When he was done with his food, he made his way over to the sink, noisily throwing his plate in the dish washer after rinsing it. You knew he wanted to get a rise out of you and he damned well almost did.

“I’m done.” Raising an eyebrow without sparing him a glance, you made a noise of confirmation that your heard him, barely.

“Noona,” you continued to nod to yourself reading over all the terms and conditions of the new contract. Jungkook scoffed, setting his hands on his hips.

“Can you at least look at me?” Slamming your hands down on the counter, you looked at him square in the eyes with a stern face that had the blood rushing to his face, flustered.

“And what Jungkook? Can you please-,” exhaling loudly, “let me finish this? I don’t have time for your whining right now. Go play the new game I bought you and not a peep out of you. Understood?” Your demanding voice had him gulping, knowing the unspoken punishment was just lurking the corner. He was already treading on thin ice. Hoping that sent him the message that you were not to be disturbed, you turned back to your documents.

You continued to ignore him while he muttered to himself, walking over to the couch in your penthouse, turning on the gaming console.

It had been about 3 hours since you had last spoken to Jungkook. He’d played on the Xbox for a while before he’d resorted to watching Netflix on your couch. It had been halfway into Iron Man that you’d stopped hearing his commentary on the movie. You’d finally finished with the paperwork, made sure there were no loose ends and no errors before the big day of the official signing. Giving your limbs a much needed stretch, you yawned, feeling unbelievably tired. Knowing how much you’d neglected Jungkook also didn’t have you feeling so hot. He could hold a grudge for an impressively long amount of time. Lucky for you, you knew just how to make it up to him.

Walking over to the large L shaped couch and his figure curled on it with his hands tucked in between his knees had you feeling weak in yours. He held such an air of innocence even when he simply slept. The unmistakable content look on his gentle face almost had you turning back and letting him nap some more, knowing how frustrated he was before he fell asleep. Smiling, you walked over to the fridge and grabbed a box of banana milk that you always had stacked in your fridge. The boy was a sucker for banana milk. He’d probably give away his bank account details if you gave him enough of it.

You sat beside his sleeping figure, stabbing the straw in to the box and setting it beside you. Putting your hands beside his head, cradling it, you kissed his forehead, whispering his name to shake him out of his slumber. You continued to give him soft eskimo kisses as he groaned and shook his head, too overcome with drowsiness to attempt to shake it away. The chuckle you’d been biting back escaped as you took in the pout that was starting to form once again on his face. There was once a time you thought you hated boys. Then came a period you thought you hated high maintenance boys (you’d been told by your best friend that male versions of you reciprocated that feeling). But here you were with Jungkook. A boy AND very high maintenance.

“Jungkook, wake up darling.” You nuzzled his nose as he finally stretched his arms above his head, peeking at you with an eye open as his handsome face turned into a frown, likely remembering he was mad at you. You grabbed the banana milk and handed it to him, happily taking advantage of his weakness to get in his good graces. His face instantly lit up and all you wanted to do was scream. He was too adorable. Too good and easily pleased for his own benefit.

“You can’t bribe me to like you with this.” He spoke around the straw in his mouth, sipping on it as he sat up slightly, allowing your arms to wrap around his shoulders and pull him into you. You grinned, looking down with your eyes closed before raising them up to his face again.

“I know, babe. I’m sorry I yelled okay? You need to realise when noona is stressed and needs to be left alone.” The seriousness of your tone had him listening carefully to your every word. Sighing he nodded, looking down, most likely understanding your difficult position. He always did. He was too good for you.

“I’m sorry, too. I just was so annoyed at my professor today!” He huffed again, sticking out his bottom lip for good measure.

“How come baby? What happened?” Seeing you interested in wanting to know about his day, Jungkook visibly perked up, eagerly telling you about how hard he worked on his last project and got 85%.

“That’s amazing Jungkook! That’s something to be proud of, considering how much of an ass he sounds like. Cheer up honey.” You kissed his lips softly, keeping it chaste and sweet.  

Of course, Jungkook being Jungkook, he chased after your lips when you pulled away. Eyes half closed as he tried to pull you closer, throwing the empty milk box on the side. You smirked, holding his face between your palms and pushing him back down.

“Behave, baby.” Whining had seemed to become Jungkook’s favourite tonight, as he did just that, pulling you on top of his frame. One of the insanely lust inducing facts that you’d learned about Jungkook was his insatiable sexual appetite. First, he’d seemed to be too reluctant and shy to do so much as slip his tongue in your mouth and all the previous encounters had been initiated by you. Slowly, he’d developed into a man possessed to have his cravings satisfied. Needily rutting against you as he once again buried his face in your neck. He was greedy. But you were more than happy to provide what he desired.

“Noona,” whining breathlessly and you had barely held him for more than a few moments, “need you.”

“What do you need baby?” He knew you liked to drag it out, milk the moment until he was so needy, so beside himself that tears pricked his eyes, begging you for some relief. He also knew you loved it when he was vocal, freely expressing his want with the way he whined and gasped and moaned, composing your favourite melody.

“S-Suck me, noona, please.” He whined low in his throat as you felt the trickle of arousal escape your core, heat travelling downwards and opening your body up to his gluttonous eyes. His shameless demand only spurred you on further. Jungkook had tugged his leg over yours, pushing his hardened length in your stomach, grinding brazenly, hoping you’d show him mercy, just for tonight. You were still biting your lips, looking down at his flushed face and needy, big button eyes fluttering and boring into yours before dipping them down towards your cleavage. He dragged his hands from your waist up, bringing your silk blouse along with him until you stopped them from ascending any further. He was whining again, nuzzling his face in your breasts through your blouse when not granted permission to take off your shirt. This time though, the noise lit a fire deep in your core instead of the chaste affection it incited in a more innocent context. Instead, you reached behind with both of your arms under the shirt, taking off your bra, slowly, making sure to watch Jungkook’s already breathless face and glazed eyes. He looked like he’d been drugged. Knowing it was you and your hands over him satisfied an almost cloying need inside you that was inexplainable. Inexplainable but attainable and only from having him.

You leaned back down after throwing your bra aside. Taking his face in your hands, you took his deep red lips in for another kiss. Thrusting your tongue into his mouth, letting it lead his own, you kissed him fervently enough to set his nerves on ablaze. He was so restless and beside himself that his sensual grinding had turned into desperate rutting of his hips against your damp sex through your panties, skirt ridden up to your waist. You placed your hands on his bottom, slowing down his pace to the sensual grind it was before, making him groan loudly in your mouth. He was young and by no means a virgin, but you often found yourself slowing him down. He was always eager to please and be pleased. The stamina of a bull, you thought bitterly on more than one occasion, knowing how mild paced you’d had sex before compared to your hectic life.

“Slow down baby, noona will give you what you need.” Jungkook moved down towards your chest, ignoring your warning and taking a pebbled nipple into his mouth through your silk blouse. You hissed at the harsh tug of his teeth on your nipple. Apparently Jungkook was in no mood of being obedient.

You almost had to wrestle his hands in to your hold as he sucked on your nipple through the fabric, pleasure flooding your nerves, setting them on fire as he tugged and tugged, slowly suckling afterwards to ease the pain. Your breathing was rough. Jungkook was being brattier than usual, not listening to a word so far. You resigned yourself to just let him be, get it out of his system. He was obviously showing his feelings from your spat earlier, rather than excessively voicing them. He pulled away from one just to switch to the other. The fabric of your blouse now sticking to your nipple, outlining the peak shamelessly. You left his hands beside him, dragging your own down to his hardened length. Jungkook was a very generously endowed man. The fact that his body and his cock didn’t match his face or personality was the hottest thing to you. He had no idea how sexy it was to you that he fucked like a porn star, however, possessed the temperament of a timid mouse. His acquiescent demeanour was your weakness. It only made you want to have him even more. You granted a harsh tug on his cock, halting his movements on your breast, using your hand that was cradling him to your chest to tug his gasping face away from it.

“Enough.” Voice callous, sending shivers down his brawny torso. He whimpered lowly, tugging on his bottom lip. Your hand continued to move on his hard length, lubricated from the excessive pre-cum smeared on the tip. It was messy and you loved messy.

“I want your cock in my mouth.” You purred lowly beside his ear, hearing him gulp. Slowly, you sat up, sliding down his body, Jungkook watching you with dim eyes, pupils dilated, such apparent lust swimming in his irises. Sliding off your silk blouse, you discarded it to the side along with his jeans and underwear in one swoop. You leaned down, eyes level with his own, landing open mouthed kisses to his pelvis, trailing them down to the cherry red head of his leaking cock. He was unbelievably hard and intimidatingly engorged. It made you all the more wet, knowing you’ll get to feel him soon. You began by starting at the base of his shaft with your tongue and working your way up towards the tip. He was trembling. His skin felt scorching and clammy as the temperature seemed to rise around you despite the open plan space.

“Noona, noona!” Jungkook was almost heaving, resisting the urge to pull on your head and shove you down his cock. He wondered if this is what heaven felt like. He’d ask you that question if he wasn’t busy trying not to die because he would rather experience this feeling in this life than wait for the next.

“Yes, baby?” You kept up your licking as he stared at you, pupils blown, his mouth hanging open. “What do you want my darling?”

“I want your mouth noona, please suck me, suck my cock noona, p-please.” He whined shamelessly, moaning loudly when his wish was granted. This is the point where Jungkook lost all his inhibitions and chased your touch without his reticent nature afflicting him. Finally reaching the tip, you were rewarded with a few drops of pre-cum that you licked up with your tongue, quickly swallowing him down. Slowly feeling the veiny warmth of his luscious cock as you moved up and down on it. Working it with your tongue. Jerking it with one hand while the other gently pressed on the underside of his scrotum. All the while desperate moans of ‘noona’ and your name when he got too carried away were sounding the walls of your penthouse. Jungkook had always been vocal and it was your weakness. He was either quiet and reserved or bratty and loud. The later usually in more compromising situations as this one.

You slowly worked your way down the veiny shaft with your tongue and with your other hand holding and slowly jerking his cock.

“F-Fuck! Y-Yes just like that noona, take my cock,” He whimpered loudly, his shirt now discarded on the floor as his torso glistened with a light sheen of perspiration, “I’m gunna cum noona, oh god.” Holding his cock deep in your throat, you finally lifted your head up and off his dick, spitting saliva all over his engorged dick. His desperate pleas for you to finish him off were mostly a catalyst to your already hedonistic desires at this moment. Giving head had never appealed so much to you before Jungkook. In fact, it was almost degrading to you considering your stature to almost all your partners before. Though, it never occurred to you when it came to Jungkook. First you mistook it as pity on the young man but you were soon realising that your interest in foreplay was not merely a phase. There was something more than was you felt on the surface which was becoming harder to ignore. One last time you put your face directly above his cock and took a deep breath, sweat dripping onto the mushroom tip from your forehead you finally sunk down again. Jungkook didn’t think he even had control of his body as he thrust upward, pushing his cock even further down your throat. Pleasurable tears fell down your face as you continued to hold Jungkook's cock in your throat. Finally, barely able to breathe you pulled your head back allowing his cock to escape your mouth as you gasped for air. Threads of saliva trailed down from your mouth to his beautiful cock. Continuing to bob up and down, going deep but not nearly as deep as you had been, your adoration of Jungkook's beautiful cock had him soon ready to explode. Jungkook looked at you in panic, breathing heavily.

“Noona I’m gunna cum! tell me w-where.” He almost pleaded as you sat up slightly away from his cock.

"Come on baby, give it to me," you instructed Jungkook as he jerked his cock, the engorged head only inches from your face.

You opened your mouth and Jungkook aimed, shooting two ropes of cum almost directly into your mouth, some of it landing on your lips and chin. You quickly swallowed, gulping down his warm sticky cum. He looked beautifully wrecked. His skin flushed a deep pink, abs contracting and relaxing as he took deep breaths in. So vulnerable and uncut. Once his orgasm had subsided, he’d wasted no time in sitting up and pulling you into his lap.

“I came so hard noona, you’re so amazing, you’re so beautiful.” His words being pressed into your skin as he held you close to his naked body, hands now working on your skirt and panties, tugging them off.

“Anything for my baby,” You kissed him sweetly as your hand continued down to stroke his hardening cock again, exploring each other's mouths. You pulled away from his lips, caressing his cheek with your free hand.

“Noona is going to fuck you now, okay baby?” Jungkook moaned at your words nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Please, fuck me noona. I-I’m so hard for you.”

Slowly you placed your bare feet up on either side of his hips, then lowered your pussy over his cock. Instantly feeling the electricity of his huge member penetrating your pussy. When you were satisfied that you could get no more of his cock into your pussy, you began to bounce up and down on him, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning on his shoulder.

Enjoying the feeling of fullness that always comes from having Jungkook’s cock in your pussy. For the first time today Jungkook finally got to properly suck on your breasts. Pushing you back slightly as you continued to bounce up and down, you were thankful for the Pilates classes that kept you in shape. He gently sucked on your nipples, swirling his tongue over the areola of each tit. Sucking and biting each nipple your orgasm soon built up in your core. The combination of being on edge from the events before combined with the stresses of the day had you rushing towards your end faster than usual. So you turned around. Now facing forward, and began to really fuck Jungkook.

You pushed down until you could feel the head of his member nudge your cervical opening and sending a bite of pain up your torso. You stopped for a second leaning back to sweetly talk in Jungkook’s ear, "Baby, thrust upward as hard as you can, okay? Please do it for Noona." You smiled wickedly at him as he suddenly pushed upward as hard as he could, crying out with you. "Oh God, Jungkook!" you cried out loudly as the pain of his thrust hit you. In seconds that pain was replaced by pleasure as his cock penetrated depths of your cunt. "Don't stop," Urging him on as Jungkook had started to slow down his rhythm thinking he hurt you. The overwhelming feelings had you so engrossed in your own little world and only when Jungkook squeezes his hands on your waist you glance down at where you’re both connected.

With Jungkook now penetrating your cunt fully you begin to ride him ferociously, fucking like animals. Your naked bodies made loud smacking sounds as you worked towards the inevitable climax. Sweat once again poured off of your naked body glistening in the light of the living room. You were getting tired with your continued rhythm on his cock and thankfully Jungkook noticed as he kissed up your back helping you maintain it.

“How about I turn you over now? Please,” He kissed your collarbone, “Wanna fuck noona.”

You gave into his pleading, getting off his lap and getting on all fours on the couch as Jungkook rested one knee on the couch and the other foot on the floor, gaining all leverage he needed. You were drunk on each other's bodies and it was evident in the way Jungkook’s eyes were glazed over, never taking them off of you. This was not the usual and the fact that you allowed him to take over only further showed him how past your typical temperament you were.

Having positioned himself on the seat he looked over at you with a mischievous grin on his handsome face. Jungkook stroking his now well lubricated cock, grabbed it with his left hand and guided it to your pussy. As he slowly entered, you let out a muffled groan, adjusting to his size in this position. Somehow, he felt larger and harder as the rigid shaft dragged across your vaginal walls, filling you up inch by inch. And then he began to slowly fuck you, pushing your body forward a bit with every thrust, getting into a rhythm. His cock working your pussy felt unbelievable. With sweat pouring out of your body and dripping on the couch, you felt the rush of you orgasm building as you instructed Jungkook. "Faster baby, please," The more Jungkook gave, the lesser it felt. He was addicting, enchanting and like a true addict, you always wanted more. Jungkook began ploughing into your cunt with reckless abandon. Making shameful smacking sounds as your sweaty bodies collided together and before you knew it, your torso was collapsing on the couch as Jungkook held firmly on to your hips.

“You look so sexy Y/N. You feel so good, fuck.” When you turned your head to the side, eyes sliding back to glance at his face, the view only brought you closer. Jungkook’s eyebrows were furrowed in amazement as his eyes were securely stuck to the view of where your bodies made illicit contact.

“A-Am I doing well Noona? I’ve b-been holding off for you.” You nodded your head as best as you could, knowing he was well aware of his skill but always wanted to hear it from you. And you were more than happy to oblige.

“Yes honey, you’re so good.”

“God, it’s never enough. I wanna fuck you f-forever Noona.” A hiccup to let you know he was choking up which wasn’t so out of the ordinary as what he says next. “P-Please don’t leave me.”

The brokenness his words convey is so honest and sincere it’s like being stamped directly on the surface of your skin. And you’re not given much time to mull it over when Jungkook’s rhythm behind you turns frantic, almost as if he’s also realised his slip up. It for sure makes you forget though. Now needing to cum, you matched his rhythm and pushed back harder, sweat still dripping from your body onto the couch. You felt an incredible rush of pleasure wash over your body listening to Jungkook whine with each thrust, muttering about how perfect you felt on his cock.

“Baby I’m c-cuming,” You moaned in urgency, prompting Jungkook to get impossibly faster.

“Cum for me noona, want you dripping over my cock.”

You barely kept your balance on the seat as your orgasm exploded, your cunt dripping with Jungkook's cock still ploughing into you, the liquid nectar gushing onto the couch below as he helps you climb the bridge of your ecstasy.

Jungkook slowed his rhythm down, knowing you needed a minute but his cock never really stopped gently thrusting your cunt.

He began to pick up his rhythm again hammering your pussy with his thick girth over and over. Your pussy convulsing around his cock in oversensitivity, but you wanted him to cum again. At that moment you didn't care. All you could think about was how good his cock felt inside you and how good his cum was going to feel in you again. Now working harder than ever before, Junngkook's cock kept battering your dripping pussy. The smacking sounds of your flesh louder than ever. "N-noona." you knew that he was telling you he was ready. "In me baby. Cum inside noona’s pussy.” you instructed. Filling you up to the brim. Slowing down as he continued to spurt inside, holding on to your hips as his eyebrows were furrowed, concentrating on milking all his cum from his cock. You waited for him to snap out of his daze as he came to a halt, reluctantly pulling out. You winced slightly as he exited your entrance at the inflamed lips of your pussy. As he slid down to the floor, you took his place on the couch, laying back to give your aching limbs a rest as your vision took time to clear.

What you weren’t prepared for was a tongue snaking its way to your cum-filled pussy, startling you.

"Jungkook." You cried out a little too loud as Jungkook's tongue first began to explore your lips. He began by placing soft kisses all around your pussy lips. Gently using his tongue to massage the outer labia of your cunt. His hands caressing your stomach and then reaching back down to spread your thighs wide.

“You’re so yummy noona, I want to eat all of our cum,” his words making you moan even louder. Jungkook was just as filthy as you and it made you even wetter. Meanwhile, his tongue had begun to work his way into your pussy. Jungkook took his time with your pussy reciprocating the worship that you had shown his cock. His tongue began to work inward further licking all around quickly but not viciously, allowing your pleasure to build. His eyes peaked over in to your own, only his nose visible above your mound. And you can’t help but bring your hands down to cradle his face close to you. There was no mistaking Jungkook’s current position between your legs was obscene, objectively speaking. But somehow, it didn’t feel that way. At least not when he looked at you like you were his life source. It was overwhelming in such an intimate way and you couldn’t tear your eyes away no matter how much your mind screamed at you to put some sort of methodical barrier between you two. And if it wasn’t for his tongue slipping up to your clit, you would have most likely been lost in his twinkling eyes for who knows how long.

“Gently, baby.” You hiss as each swipe of his tongue is like a shock to your core. Once he closes his lips around the bundle of nerves, you let go with a whimper; your climax short but powerful. Jungkook only stopped his licking for a few seconds when you came and was now back to work on your now very wet and cum soaked pussy. After a few minutes of just licking up all your juices, he stopped once you started wincing, having had enough for the day. You caught your breath as you pulled him up beside you, laying his head down on your chest as he draped your body with his own, wrapping his arms around you.

After a few minutes of silence, you heard him say the words that lingered on the tip of your tongue.

“I love you Y/N.”

You simply smiled, stroking his hair, tugging his lips softly on your own, not kissing just resting.

Hoping to buy time and figure out what the fuck to do.

a/n: feedback appreciated, esp the constructive kind. :)))

[a-mountain-girl]

alright it’s venting time because I think better when I write and I can’t find anyone irl who I could talk to about all of this.

But before I begin if someone could bring me a gigantic bar of chocolate (milk pls I’m so sick of dark chocolate that’s all “santa” gave me for Christmas like... did mom forget I don’t like dark chocolate?) or a pint of peanut butter, pistachio, or moose tracks ice cream that would help.

Like, I understand that this hasn’t been a bad day necessarily just a bad hour that has since spiraled into a several bad hours and I’m more upset about underlying issues than I am about what happened. So what happened? 

Well it all seems innocuous enough. I went to my senior capstone class and met my classmates (all of whom I know from other classes) and the professor (who I’ve taken a class from before, this is important). We talked about the syllabus and class structure and I exercised an admirable amount of self-control in not excusing myself to go scream in the snow. I really, really wanted to go do that. 

The problems are 1) This is the only professor I have ever given a bad rating and for good reason. I don’t want to spend too much time on this but at first I was thinking “this guy seems pretty chill if a bit annoying” and then when he was talking about his education and specialty I realized... this is That Professor. This is That Guy. This is the one I actually called a dick in the course evaluation. Because I took the required survey of american literature from colonialism to the civil war course from this guy; this was online which made things worse. Now this was supposed to be a LITERATURE course, a SURVEY of LITERATURE. His course design was literally 50% ART, another 30% was dense paragraphs about history (I’m ADHD I absolutely cannot get through gigantic blocks of dry, useless text within a reasonable time frame), another 20% was bits of literature and media that was not relevant to the time period because his big thing was “How are these things influenced or developed from early American literature and/or history?!” Like.... I DON’T KNOW BECAUSE WE HAVEN’T STUDIED IT DIPSHIT! Then to add to it his expectations were that C is Average bullshit like, you’re setting your students up for failure when you set it up like C is the grade you expect to give them and to get an A a student has to go above and beyond like no, if a student meets expectations they should get an A. You’re just an asshole. Then his expectations for regular coursework were buried on a completely different website and never repeated, they also didn’t make sense. They were not clear. And then his idea of “feedback” is to ramble for paragraphs on a tangent and NEVER TELL ME WHY TF HE GAVE ME THE GRADE HE DID! Feedback needs to include an explanation of what the student did right and wrong so they can improve in the future. His rambling along with the lack of clarity in instructions made it impossible to get good, much less consistent grades. I’d try to follow all the instructions, even put in extra effort and get excited and I’d get a poor grade on an assignment in spite of doing everything right according to his incomprehensible instructions and then I’d half-ass a discussion post, turn it in late, and get an A and three paragraphs of this guy rambling excitedly in the comments. Like, it was impossible to figure out what he actually wanted us to do and then I was already mad enough about the lack of focus on what the class was actually supposed to be about and all this led to me throwing in the towel and either half-assing everything or just skipping assignments because I couldn’t care anymore. I have no desire to study under this buffoon’s “guidance” again.

2) One of the classmates is Obnoxious Man, who I will point out isn’t even graduating this spring and therefore really doesn’t need to be in this class and I think he shouldn’t be. I’m uncomfortable enough with the professor but I would be willing to give him a second chance in light of his whole thing about it being “student-led” and it being easier to communicate in person. But Obnoxious Man makes this impossible. The professor wants us sharing and working together all semester. I am not comfortable sharing anything remotely personal such as a reading I find fascinating or working with this man. I will not be giving him any access to me outside of the classroom. He will not be getting my phone number or my email. His vibes are disgusting and I’ve been dealing with boys and men just like him since kindergarten. I don’t care if he hasn’t actually done anything to threaten me, based on previous experience I won’t even take a chance. The second to last guy like this spent weeks harassing me because he wanted me to date him, the last guy would steal my stuff and stalk me. I had to get the school equivalent to a restraining order which he still found every excuse to violate. I can’t do this but I also can’t just drop the class because I, unlike Obnoxious Man, have to graduate this spring. I thought I could tolerate him after last semester but there’s a big difference between having to put up with him in discussion-based classes during half of the week and him having access to me.

3) I was thrown by the actual expectations laid out in the syllabus. I thought I would be doing a whole new, intensive project. I had a great idea and was actually getting excited. Instead we’re supposed to do group projects (see above for issues with that) and a personal project which will be revising an old paper like... when I finish a class I am done. D O N E. I never want to see that crap again. I don’t think I even still have half of that material! There isn’t one of those papers that I want to look at, much less expand! And how is this really challenging? The professor, Mr. Dickhead, went on and on about how important revising is to critical writing yada yada yada but maybe I don’t care?! Maybe I’m only in this degree as preparation for grad school in a different area? I hate writing critical analysis 99% of the time. It’s like pulling teeth. That’s not a great metaphor because I’m now expected to drag all these papers I want to forget about back into the horrible light of day. And I don’t know if these expectations were invented by the department or by the professor so I don’t know who to be mad at or if I could possibly request some sort of independent project.

4) Because of this and some things said by other students in their introductions (all positive things btw) I started into a reactionary spiral of feeling inadequate, childish, stupid, helpless, etc. etc. Like, one of these classmates is a finalist for a Fullbright scholarship which apparently had to be applied to in October and I didn’t know any of this?! Like that stuff is important but nobody tells me things and I don’t know how people know about all these scholarships and awards and programs and stuff that is helpful. It’s hard enough just making it through the day and doing a mediocre job on my assignments. It took me months to get up the courage to ask professors for recommendations. Filling out graduate applications has been hell and I had to tell my advisor yesterday that she’s not finished with the recs because there’s on in her inbox she missed and I still have to submit one more application that I was feeling good about yesterday and now am about ready to give up on. And the writing center isn’t open and I don’t want to be a burden on my advisor and talk to her about any of these issues...

[marvelousbirthdays]

Happy Birthday, sarratorrens

April 13-Sam & Bucky after CW AU: "What did you say?" Platonic soulmates for @sarratorrens

Written by @iamartemisday

When it was all over, from the fighting to the politics to the alien invasions, they finally sat down and talked about it.

“You’re an asshole.” Sam had no interest in dancing around the issue. Good. Neither did Bucky.

“I’m not the one who wouldn’t move his seat.” Bucky eyed Sam’s shoulder, where those fateful words from that fateful car trip had been inked by the universe in silver writing.

Sam adjusted his shirt, even though the words were already covered. “I’m not the one who rips steering wheels out of cars.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“I loved that car.”

“You can buy another one.”

“Would you say that to a mother who lost a child?”

Bucky massaged his forehead. This was worse than trying to stop Steve from jumping out of planes without a parachute. “You know what? Fine. Have it your way.”

He stalked out of the room, not caring in the slightest if Sam watched him go. He definitely didn’t look back.

He didn’t want some dumb platonic soulmate anyway.

**

Two days later, his brand new box of Rice Krispies went missing.

It was Sam. He had no evidence, no witnesses, and no clear motive, but it was absolutely Sam.

When Steve didn’t believe him because Sam was such a stand-up guy who’d never steal, Bucky took matters into his own hands. He picked the lock to Sam’s apartment and walked in to find him at the kitchen table, the offending box of cereal right there in plain view as he enjoyed a crackling bowl.

“That’s mine,” Bucky said, making use of his ‘soldat’ voice as Natasha liked to call it.

Unlike a trainee or Peter Parker, Sam was entirely unmoved. “We’re soulmates. Soulmates share.”

“We’re also human beings. Human beings ask before they take things. Otherwise, their spines get broken.”

“Nobody’s stopping you from having somel.” Sam gestured with his head at the empty seat pulled out as if in wait of him. “Go ahead. I dare you.”

Bucky snatched up his cereal box and knocked the milk carton to the floor for good measure. White liquid spilled everywhere. It would take Sam all morning to clean it up.

For the moment, Bucky was satisfied.

**

He woke up from a nap with a photo stuck to his metal arm. Attached with a kitchen magnet. It was one of those New York skyline magnets they sold at souvenir shops in Times Square. Bucky hated those things.

The photo was of Sam’s hand flipping him off. How childish.

Bucky dropped his pants and Sam’s phone was soon graced with the image of his perfect ass. That’ll show him.

**

Sam’s redwings malfunctioned in a battle against a terrorist cell holding an investment bank hostage. Instead of attacking the bad guys, they staged a mutiny. While Sam batted them away, Bucky dispatched all seven terrorists with ruthless efficiency. Every single one of them was an amateur. They couldn’t even aim right. Why the Avengers had been called when a rookie with a donut in his hand could’ve handled it was beyond him.

The headlines the next day were awesome.

WHITE WOLF DEFEATS TERRORISTS. RESCUES TEAMMATE.

“You still haven’t thanked me for saving your ass,” Bucky grinned at Sam as he dropped another copy of the paper onto his lap (there were seven hundred more stashed away in his closet to wallpaper Sam’s bedroom with later).

Sam had the eyes of a hungry leopard. ���What did you do to my babies?”

Bucky gasped. “Are you accusing me of sabotaging your equipment to embarrass you on a mission? I can’t believe you think so little of me.”

“I can’t believe suck my dick,” Sam snapped, crumpling up the paper and throwing it at Bucky’s head. To his credit, he made the shot.

“No can do. After that horrible offense, I don’t even want to be in the same room as you. Goodbye, dear platonic soulmate of mine.”

Bucky departed to a cacophony of bad language.

**

“Hey there! Any superheroes around? I need some new photos for my album.”

It was a curly haired young woman with glasses and a hat. Bucky had never seen her before, so he figured she was one of those new ‘consultants’ Steve was telling him about. They were getting two: a physicist and an administrative assistant. This girl didn’t look like either of those things, but as this was a private lounge no visitors should have access to, he wouldn’t call security just yet.

“Hi,” he said, waving her over. “I’m Bucky, I-”

“I know you!” She skipped over and shook his hand. That was the idea anyway. If she hadn’t grabbed the metal one he’d worry about his shoulder dislocating. “Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier, White Wolf. So many names, dude. You need to consolidate. I’m Darcy Lewis, intern and assistant extraordinaire. You may have heard of me.”

“Vaguely,” Bucky took his arm back as quickly and politely as he could. “I knew you were coming, but-”

“Yeah, this is way more exciting than when I went to New Mexico to be Jane’s assistant.” She flopped down on the couch like this was her own apartment. “Not that New Mexico can’t be fun if you’re in a place like Albuquerque, but we were in a real dust bowl. Actually, a dust bowl would’ve been good. This was like a dust bowl within a dust bowl. I remember this one time I had to charge my phone, and-”

Thirty minutes later

“I say to the guy, ‘I don’t care about your grandmother’s bowel movements, just pay me five bucks so I can go. And then he gave me the money and I bought a new charger, and I could finally charge my phone.” Darcy took the first breath Bucky had seen her take. “And then there was the time I had to get Jane a new battery for her laptop.”

“You know what? I just remembered I have to be somewhere right now.” Bucky shot off the couch like it was on fire. “Somewhere important… but you know, that was a really great story you were telling. I have this buddy, Sam Wilson, and I bet he’d love to hear it.”

“You mean the Falcon?” Darcy’s eyes lit up. “He’s my favorite! No offense.”

“None taken.” He entered Sam’s number into her phone, along with his apartment number and other relevant information.

“I’ll just pop on over and say hi.” She raced out the door, only to poke her head back in seconds later. “Almost forgot. Say cheese!”

Bucky did not say cheese and he didn’t smile. Darcy took the picture anyway.

“Nice,” she said, tapping a few buttons. “Friend me on Facebook. I’ll tag you.”

When she was gone and beautiful silence was restored, Bucky fell on the couch in a dead faint.

‘Have a good time, Sammy,’ he thought evilly.

Bucky went back to his apartment and ate dinner while waiting for the obligatory threatening text message he was sure to receive at any moment. By noon the next day, it still hadn’t come.

A full twenty-four hours after Bucky unleashed the Chatty Cathy horror that was Darcy upon an unsuspecting Sam, his phone finally went off. Sam had sent him a photo. It was of him with Darcy in his lap, kissing his cheek. There was writing on her neck he hadn’t seen before. It looked like the singular ‘no’ on his bicep.

‘Thanks for finding her for me.’

Bucky crushed the phone.

**

‘Just great,’ he thought later on after failing to fix his ruined phone. ‘Now I need to buy a new one and Sam is one up on me. I can’t believe that guy. Here I was trying to make peace with him, and all he wants to do is be a two-year-old kicking sand in my face. Un-fucking-real. Of all the people I have to be destined for. I don’t even want to think about what my romantic soulmate will be like.’

He stepped outside and ran straight into a petite figure, stopping his train of thought. The woman, soft where he was solid, bounced off him like a ping pong ball. She was no bigger than Steve before the serum, and some long-buried protective instincts rose to the surface as he bent over her.

“Jesus, I am so sorry. Let me help you.”

“I’m fine,” she said, pushing the hair out of her eyes. “Should’ve looked where I was going. I always do that.”

She got up using his arm as leverage. Bucky would’ve helped properly, but her words were burning in his brain and on his back. He stared at her like an idiot, like he hadn’t been lectured by his father every day on what to do when this day came. Something about being a gentleman and inviting her to dinner which he had to pay for. Maybe that last part was different with the modern day’s more egalitarian attitude towards dating, but at the very least, he shouldn’t be staring so much. Or at all.

“Sorry,” she said nervously, hands stuffed in her pockets. “I’m Jane Foster, I think you know my friend, Darcy.”

Bucky nodded. “Uh huh…”

Jane bit her lip. “She told me I should come and talk to you. I’m not sure why... actually, did I just say your-”

“Soulmate words,” he said with her. “Yeah, I… I think you did.”

He took Jane’s hand and squeezed it. Not too tight, just enough to feel her warmth. She squeezed right back and suddenly, the day was a little brighter.

**

It became easy to avoid Sam. He just had to spend all his free time with Jane. Getting to know her, learning about her research, taking her on long walks through the park, kissing her in the moonlight, making her cry out his name in ecstasy under the sheets.

He barely thought of Sam for a whole month. If they worked together, they didn’t speak unless it was mission critical. Nobody knew about their secret bond as of yet. Steve chalked the animosity up to stress and never tried playing mediator. For Christmas, Tony gifted them a ‘get-along’ shirt, which was promptly stolen by Jane and used as a sweat rag while she performed maintenance on her weather machines.

It was, shockingly enough, she who breached the topic two days after he and Sam took down a suicide bomber and only got the bomb dismantled with four seconds to go.

“Look, it’s not that simple,” Bucky said, pressing an ice pack to his head. He wasn’t in pain anymore, but with the cold came numbness. He needed some of that right now. “I’ve been trained in a lot of things, but diffusing bombs is not one of them. We got it in the end.”

“Yeah, barely,” Jane said, turning a wrench way harder than she needed to. “If you’d been one second late, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. Because you’d be dead. You understand that, right?”

Bucky did realize it, and it really sucked. He never wanted to be one of those guys who complained about ‘nagging girlfriends’, especially when Jane had every reason to be mad at him. He just… really didn’t want to have this conversation.

“What do you want me to do?”

Jane dropped the wrench and took a seat on the table. She was so light, it barely squeaked under her weight.

“Darcy told me you and Sam were arguing the whole time,” she puts a hand on his face, making him meet her gaze. “That’s why you were having problems.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“He’s your partner. And your soulmate.”

“You’re my soulmate.”

“Look, I know romantic and platonic soulmates aren’t the same thing, but they’re not so different either.” Jane wrapped her arms around him, moving from the table to his lap. “Most people don’t even have one soulmate, let alone two. People like us… we’re basically born with an emotional support system already laid out for us, and that’s not something to run away from.”

Bucky furrowed his brow. “Us? You have a platonic mark, too?”

The non-sequitur bugged her. He could tell without her saying anything. She pulled back her hair to show him the words behind her ear. It was such a small space, no wonder he’d never noticed before.

“Man this place is hot as balls. How do you even stand it?” he read, a grin forming. “Darcy, huh?”

Jane giggled. “The first few weeks were the worst. We couldn’t agree on anything. She drove me so nuts I had to sleep on the roof by the firepit.”

That didn’t sound right. Bucky had seen them together a bunch of times (without Sam of course) and those girls couldn’t be closer if they were sisters.

She seemed to read his mind. “We needed time to get where we are now, and I think you can have the same thing with Sam if you try.”

“He won’t try,” Bucky said. “He’s hated me from the start. Not that I blame him. We didn’t meet under the best circumstances.”

“None of that was your fault, Bucky. Sam knows that.”

“Does he?”

“Yes.” Jane touched her forehead to his. “I know I can’t force you to talk to him, but at least think about it. Because deep down, I think you guys do care about each other, or this wouldn’t be hurting you so much.”

“It’s not,” he said, even though lying to her felt worse than a punch to the chest.

“Just promise me you’ll be civil with him. You know, so you don’t get blown up.”

“I promise,” Bucky mumbled. Then he buried his face in the crook of her neck where he could forget all his troubles.

**

Sam was in the lounge, which sucked because it should’ve been empty this time of day.

Bucky was only there because he had no bad guys to fight and Jane wouldn’t be back from her meeting for another half hour. With nothing else to do, he’d hoped to get a nap in and maybe watch some TV. Instead, he found the bane of his existence resting in a recliner (the one Bucky usually sat in of course) reading a book and pretending to be dead to the world.

Which he wasn’t. Bucky knew that because his hands tensed and his breathing sped up as Bucky made a spot for himself on the couch.

The TV was in the corner and the remote within reach. He should’ve turned it on, but he didn’t. He grabbed a magazine off the coffee table. Nobody knew why Tony kept them when nobody ever read them. When asked, he’d only say it was for aesthetic purposes. Whatever that meant.

“So…” he licked his lips. “Nice weather we’re having.”

“Yeah,” said Sam.

“Pretty warm for March. Must be that climate change thing I keep hearing about.”

“Right.”

Bucky rolled his shoulders. Sam scratched his nose. They continued their reading as Bucky found himself on the same sentence six times. Every few seconds, his eyes flicked to Sam, searching for the slightest shift in expression. He soon gave up on the illusion of reading and set the magazine down.

He was ready to just leave, but if he didn’t say his peace, Jane would never let him hear the end of it. Best to get it over with and then go back to their mutual denial of each other’s existence.

Bucky took a breath-

“I’m sorry, okay?”

-and released it. Hard. His chest hurt now. “What did you say?”

Sam groaned like repeating himself was worse than the labors of Hercules. “You heard me. I’m sorry. I’ve been acting like a jerk and being unfair, so I’m sorry. I promise not to do it again.”

Bucky appraised him, his pursed lips and tight posture, like he was reciting lines for a play. “Did Darcy put you up to this?”

“You bet she did.” Sam returned to his book. He appeared to be on the wrong page. “Jane put you up to it?”

“She wants us to make up and get along because that’s what soulmates do. Did you know she and Darcy are platonic?”

“Yeah, I saw the mark.”

Bucky sighed and rubbed his face. “They’re not going to let it go until we make up for real.”

“Eh, they’ll get bored.”

“No we won’t!” Darcy and Jane stuck their heads out from behind the kitchen counter. Jane’s cursed as she realized they were caught and forced Darcy down. “Uh… I mean, pay no attention to the women next to the fridge. Carry on as you were”

Sam rolled his eyes but couldn’t hold back a grin. Neither could Bucky.

“I guess we could try,” he said. “Make a fresh start or some shit.”

“We could also do nothing,” said Sam.

“You could also sleep on that couch for a month,” Darcy snapped. “You, too, Bucky.”

“That’s not up to you, Lewis.”

“Bucky,” Jane said in her rarely used but deadly ‘I’m pissed’ voice. “Couch.”

Sam and Bucky looked at each other. They both knew how this was going to end, no point in delaying it. Bucky curled his fingers, then relaxed them. He held his hand out to Sam. “Hi, I’m Bucky. I’m your platonic soulmate. Nice to meet you.”

Sam looked at his hand like it was covered in mud, then took it anyway. “Sam Wilson. Nice to meet you, too.”

They shook and, somewhere in the back of Bucky’s mind where he never ventured, he was actually kind of glad for the semi-truce. Maybe one day, they really could have a nice friendship the way fate intended. Darcy and Jane certainly thought so. They came out of hiding, Darcy already with her phone out.

“This is gonna be my new Facebook header.” She motioned at Sam. “Come on, Sammy, let’s do this.”

He stood reluctantly and let Bucky put an arm around him.

“Sammy, huh?”

“Shut the hell up.”

They smiled for the camera. The photo proudly adorned Darcy’s page for the next few months. And of course, they’d given each other bunny ears.

[witch-chester]

Put on the Glamor Pt. 2

Mariah directed him to a small house about fourth minutes from the city the deaths had occurred and far from any neighboring eyes. Dean got out and scoped the area. If this was a trap, at least they wouldn’t have to worry about cops getting called from loud crashing.

“Relax, pretty boy.” Mariah said as she walked by. “This isn’t a trap or anything.”

Can she read minds?

“Yeah, But don’t worry I’ve become a master of blocking things out.” She turned and winked at him.

Dean grimaced. “So when we first met?”

“Let’s not get into that.” She unlocked the door and walked in. Dean had purposely drove ahead of Sam and Kit on the off chance it had been a trap. Divide and conquer. Mariah glanced at him and rolled her eyes.

“That will get annoying.”

She laughed. “Yeah. Kit tells me that all the time. Sorry.” She flitted around, turning on lights. The place had a similar feel as the house they had been at before. Warm and comforting. Fewer pictures. And sigils drawn on the walls. Papers and a laptop took over a small square table in what he assumed was meant to be a dinning area.

He walked over to have a look. Newspaper clips of the recent deaths. Photocopies of book pages. And a ton of loose paper with messy cursive writing. He picked some up to try and read it. The paper was snatched out of his hand. “Let’s wait till Kit and your brother show up.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “Why? You can start filling me in now.”

Mariah shook her head. “Nope. We need to go over some rules first.”

He raised one eye brow. “Rules?”

She looked down and started picking up papers. “Yes. Rules. You two could very well kill us once we tell you what we know. I’m cover our asses.”

“You could kill us too, sweetheart.”

“No I couldn’t.” She looked back at him. “I don’t kill good guys.”

“Yeah, I know. You said that.”

She tilted her head. “So morally I wouldn’t hurt you. You on the other hand don’t see us as good guys. Not yet.”

Before he could respond the door opened. Kit strutted in and went directly to her friend’s side. Sam stayed by the door. “Alright,” Mariah said. “Let’s start.” She sat at on of the chairs and booted up the laptop. Kit did the same, sorting through papers.

Dean sat across from the two women. “You wanted to talk rules.”

Mariah nodded. “First. No iron.”

Dean nodded.

“Second. Trust. If we are gonna work together we can’t worry that you two will try and kill us or leave us behind to take care of things on your own and mess it up.”

Sam chuckled. “Who says we have to work together?”

“If you want our information we work together.”

“We can figure it out on our own.”

“Sam!” Dean snapped. Sam cursed and leaned back against the door. “We won’t double cross you,” Dean promised.

“Ok. Then we should be alright.”

Dean nodded. “So what makes you think it’s a cursed Egyptian object.”

“Not a cursed object,” Kit stated matter of factly. “A vengeful priestess.” Mariah turned her laptop to show him a page on some legend. It was about a priestess of the God Hores. The woman was said to have been extremely beautiful and had caught the eye of the pharaoh’s son. He had tried to force her to become his mistress but she refused. She had fallen in love with her god and had pledged herself only to him. To keep herself out of the hands of the pharaoh’s son, she killed herself and had her heart mummified and her body burned. Her heart was placed in a kinobic jar and buried at the base of a statue of Hores.

“Ok. Still doesn’t explain how this is relevant,” stated Dean.

Kit sighed. “The jar was found buy a private collector on an illegal dig three weeks ago.”

“Since then, not only has there been deaths here. All the members of the dig team and three custom agents have been killed too.” Mariah chimed in. She handed Dean the newspaper clippings. Sam walked over to look at them over him brother’s shoulder. “We think that the priestess didn’t like being disturbed.”

I did sound like it all fit. Since the heart was the only piece still left of the priestess, all they would need to do is burn it and the killings should stop. Sam had the same thought. “So we just find the jar and torch it.”

“Don’t you think we would have done that if we could dumbass?” Kit growled.

Mariah explained. “It’s being kept at a warehouse own by a powerful black market dealer. Tons of security and no way of knowing what container it could been i. It would be to dangerous.”

“Which brings us to the auction you mentioned.” Dean guested.

“Mmhmm. I’ve been posing as an assistant for a black market collector that is interested in the jar among other pieces. At first I was just going to keep up with doing the sale by proxy but it would be more dangerous with only the two of us.”

“If you two helped, Dean can pose as my boss and keep look out and help with distractions while Sam and Kit get the jar and burn the heart.”

“Why is Dean your boss?” Sam asked suspiciously.

Mariah smirked. “You have to much of a goody goody face to be a black market collector.”

Kit snickered. Dean smirked. “Sounds like a good plan. When is the auction?”

“Tomorrow night. We already have what we need. I assume you have black tie attire?”

-x-x-x-x-

The boys didn’t have the proper clothes, but after a very awkward shopping trip, the girls refused to be left behind and Dean insisted on driving,both had suitable tuxedos. When the issue of where the brothers would be staying came up another argument ensued. Finally it was decided that everyone would stay at the house the girls had rented.

Kit had immediately secluded herself in her room once they returned. Mariah tried to be a diligent hostess but Sam’s aggressive attitude had her retreating to the kitchen to make dinner. Once she was out of eye sight, Dean kicked his brother in the leg. “Stop being an ass.”

“What? They are witches. For all we know this could be a trick and they are working with demons to break a seal or something.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “That’s a stretch.”

“Just because you have the hots for Mariah.”

“I do not!”

Sam made a face. “Yeah you do. It’s obvious.”

“Stop. She might hear you.”

“She’s in the other room.”

“Yeah but I don’t know how far her mind reading goes.”

Sam’s jaw dropped. “Mind reading? She has mind reading?”

Dean nodded and sipped the beer Mariah had provided. “Yeah. Thought I had mentioned that.”

Sam rubbed his palms into his eyes. He suddenly felt bad for all the hateful things he’d been thinking. If she had read his mind she had been very good not to react. He had been extremely prejudice. While Kit was also openly hostile at times, it had only been when provoked. Neither one of them had done or said anything to encourage his distrust. Hell, he’d asked his brother to put more faith in Ruby.

“Alright,” he sighed. “I’ll trust them. For now.”

Mariah walked back in. “Foods in the oven. Hope y’all boys like oven fried chicken.”

“Sounds great sweetheart.” Dean assured. He flashed a warm smile and Mariah blushed.

Sam rolled his eyes. Not into her my ass. He saw Mariah’s eyes flashed to him. Her expression questioning. That will be annoying. She smiled and winked. Very annoying.

[gdialex]

Hello, Mr. LOGAN WAGNER. My name is Detective Booth and I’m handling this case. I don’t need to go into details; you know why you’re here, and we already have you down as a suspect in her death. We’ve got witnesses to corroborate and a budding timeline, but we need more information from you directly. Make my day easier and cooperate with me on this, will ya’? I just need you to answer these questions for me. Do me a favor and don’t lie – you’re talking to a trained professional right now, I’ll be able to pick up on certain things whether you realize it or not. Lying will only come back to bite your ass later on. Just some food for thought. Let’s begin.

logan, quite frankly, was already bored of this conversation. he had plans with a girl (( and she was a french exchange student, so it’d a real fucking tragedy if he couldn’t make it )), and he was anxiously glancing at his watch every two minutes. she didn’t seem like the type of girl to reschedule.   

Q: I’m gonna’ start light. I hate interrogators who go straight into the hard stuff, ya’ know? I find it impolite. So, tell me a little about yourself. Give me your full name.

“logan wagner.” he glanced down at his watch and then looked back up at the detective, grinning, “but my friends call me the notorious a.s.s.” booth didn’t look amused, but logan just snorted. that made two of them, buddy.  

Q: Alright. Tell me your date of birth and age.

“october 8th. twenty-one.” he leaned back in the chair and placed his hands behind his head, “but what you should really write down is that i’m a libra. i’ve been told that makes me very happy, and happy people don’t kill people. that’s like legally blonde 101.”  

detective booth squinted at him, “is this a joke to you? you’re being interrogated for murder.”

logan leaned forward onto his forearms and shook his head, face somber, “sir, i never joke when it comes to reese witherspoon.” 

Q: Where did you grow up? What was your home life like? Tell me about your family and your upbringing. Give me your story.

he didn’t really see how his childhood was relevant to morgan’s death, but there were few things he loved more than talking about himself. “i’m what you call...a scientific marvel. my mom was inseminated by some guy i don’t know––make sure you write that part down––and then i was raised by a string of nannies and my grandma. mom popped in from time to time to express her disappointment in all of my life choices, so don’t worry. you know, come to think of it, i think she’d like you. i could give you her number, but be forewarned, she’s kind of a ballbuster.” 

Q: Tell me about the most impactful people in your life. I’m not picky – they can be good or bad impacts.

“kanye west changed my life.” he glanced down at his watch again and tapped his foot against the ground to the beat of the ticking clock in the background. 

“do you have somewhere to be, mr. wagner?”

sighing, logan nodded his head and drummed his fingers on top of the cool metal table, “yes, actually, i was supposed to meet this girl at my place, and she was going to bring chocolate sauce and whipped cream––and we weren’t having ice cream if you catch my drift, so i’m sure you understand why i’d appreciate it if we could hurry this up.”  

detective booth stared at him for a long time before sighing and turning the page in his notebook, and logan couldn’t help but grin. 

Q: What are your goals in life? What would be your ideal final ending? What would help you reach these goals?

booth already looked sorry he asked, and logan supposed that was fair. he didn’t really seem like the kind of guy who had goals, but that was just objectively not true. “don’t laugh ‘cause it’s kind of a sensitive issue for me, but i’ve always wanted to get my name to the top of the scoreboard on the galaga machine at the movie theater. i’m this close, but this little fucker comes in with his babysitter on sundays and steals my spot every time. now, i know what you’re wondering, and the answer is yes, i did sleep with the sitter, but i’m not proud of it. i don’t want to win like that.”    

Q: How would you describe yourself?

“i think scientific marvel just about covered it.” 

Q: What do you do in your free time? What’s your idea of fun? What sports or extracurriculars are you in at Hyland University?

“i’m on the hockey team, but my main passion in life is puppetry.” he paused and tapped the table, “write down that i said that ‘with impish mirth in my eyes’. i don’t want people thinking i’m a serial killer.” 

Q: Do you drink? Smoke? Take drugs of any kind? Answer carefully on this one, kid.

“i dabble in the art of tequila and weed.” he cleared his throat and leaned closer to the camera, “allegedly.” 

Q: Tell me about the relationships in your life. Friendships, romantic, everything in between.

he cracked his knuckles and hummed thoughtfully in the back of his throat, “where to begin, where to begin. i like to refer to myself as a serial short-term monogamist because that sounds better than being a hoe.” tapping his fingers on the table, he shrugged his shoulders slightly, “i have one best friend. eden rose. you’ve probably already interrogated her, and i agree with your assessment: she’s way too good to be hanging around me.”    

Q: What’s the best thing that has ever happened to you? What’s the worst?

he hummed and leaned back in his chair, wishing that he had something to comfortably rest his feet on to completely sell his pose. “best thing? rachel monroe. worst thing?” he paused and pulled a face, “rachel monroe.” 

Q: Let me throw in a fun one, lighten up the mood. Would you rather only be able to tell the truth or only be able to lie?

“i’m a firm believer that lying always solves all your problems.” he cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck, “except for, you know, in a murder investigation.” 

Q: Did you kill Morgan Parrish?

“uh,” logan blinked and stared at the detective, “are you actually serious?” booth didn’t say anything. “no, man, of course not. i didn’t have any reason to kill her.”

Q: Let’s get some background information on this. How do you know Morgan Parrish?

“she’s my cousin. don’t you have a file on her family, my dude? it seems like you guys don’t really know shit about her life––which is weird ‘cause morgan made sure everyone knew everything about her life.”   

Q: Explain the extent of your relationship with her. Was it platonic? Civil? Rocky? Romantic?

“we talked at christmas and easter. that was about it. she kind of cramped my style with her ‘no fucking my friends’ rule––and before you ask, no, i didn’t kill her over it. i just fucked her friends anyway.”

Q: In your own words, describe Morgan Parrish to me.

“a real pain in the ass, but she was my first pick for flag football at thanksgiving. she was ruthless.” 

Q: Would you say your life got better or worse upon meeting Morgan Parrish?

“i mean, i pretty much met her from the day that she was born, so...i guess better because i wasn’t potty-trained yet.”   

Q: What was your favorite thing about her?

“she had really hot friends. have you interrogated bridget flores yet? total smokeshow.”  

Q: What was your least favorite thing about her?

“she told my mom that i was the one that broke her lalique vase just because i spilled hot sauce on her dress. what an asshole, right? i had to miss homecoming because of that stupid vase, and my date was stephanie madsen. stephanie motherfucking madsen. she won homecoming queen, you know, with jason poyfair.” he pulled a face and shook his head, “total bullshit.”  

Q: Where were you the night of her murder?

logan squinted as he tried to recall his whereabouts, but he honestly couldn’t remember what he did yesterday, so it was a bit of a lost cause. “i was probably with a girl. maybe eden. if there was a party that night, then i was definitely there. i’ll check with my receptionist and get back to you.” 

Q: Where were you the day before?

 “i would say class, but that would be a fuckin’ lie. i was probably asleep until three in the afternoon, and then i probably hit up eden for some cookies.” 

Q: Where were you after?

he clenched his jaw and swallowed hard, “i was at a meeting. for hockey. i, uh, i had to leave early.” 

Q: How did you feel about her passing?

 he sighed, finally feeling the agitation of going over his cousin’s death again and again creep into his tone. “i don’t know. what do you think? it fucking sucked. my grandma couldn’t stop crying.” 

Q: What do you think about the way she died? Just as a refresher, Morgan Parrish was drugged, strangled, beaten, and then shot.

logan looked down at his hands and swallowed the bile rising in his throat. he wasn’t sure why, but every time he imagined her corpse, she always looked like she was five years old again. “it was fucked up. what else do you want me to say?”  

Q: Did you make any sort of tribute to her death and put it on social m-

Another interrogator walks into the room. She’s holding a folder with your picture clipped to the front. She opens it in front of Detective Booth and whispers something into his ear. He shoots you a look and then excuses himself from the room. He returns twenty minutes later, features stony. He quickly writes something down on his notepad and then caps the pen.

Q: Change of plans. I’m going to scrap the questions I had prepared and ask you what I see fit. Where were you exactly the night Morgan Parrish died?

logan quickly placed his carefully crafted smirk back onto his face and held out his hand,  “enchanté, mademoiselle. logan, logan wagner, but you can call me james bond––and what might i call a fine lady such as yourself?” 

her stern face didn’t move. “detective. answer the question.” 

he sighed and retracted his hand, “you know what, i’m just going to call you karen. you look like a karen; you have a very karen-esque face. it’s a good thing; karens are hot.”

she tapped her pen against her pad of paper, and logan held up his hands. “jeez, relax, karen. i just wanted to get to know you a little better before we got down to business. i just told detective sunshine that i’m pretty sure i was at a party.”    

Q: Tell me all the details you can remember from that night.

“i don’t really remember anything from any party i’ve been to. i’m a big fan of patron.” 

Q: Were you intoxicated at any point?

“uh ,,, just the entire night.” 

Q: Are there any witnesses able to corroborate your story?

“probably the entire hockey team. greek row, too, if they can manage to remember anything past breakfast.” 

Q: I feel like you’re leaving things out. Tell me all the details you can remember from that night.

logan smirked slightly, “are you asking for the explicit version ‘cause i could come up with something if you’re interested, or we could just create our own version of events.” 

detective karen something held up her hand, “that’s enough, thank you.” 

Q: … are you telling me the truth, kid? We got six other students we’re talking to today – sure would suck for you if one of ‘em was able to prove that something you’re saying is false.

“i’m not really sure, but i believe what i’m saying, and nietzsche says that means it’s the truth, and we all know that philosophers never lie.”  

Q: What was the last thing you said to Morgan?

logan frowned and scratched his cheek, “i...i don’t actually know. probably something stupid.” he kind of wished that he had known at the time. not that he had any idea what he’d say to her if he knew that he’d never see her again, but it probably would’ve been better than whatever bullshit he said at the time. 

Q: Have you ever gotten into a physical altercation with Morgan before?

“past the age of five? no. and i want it on the record that no matter what my grandma says, i won that fight.” 

Q: Have you ever fought verbally with Morgan?

“yeah, ask booth about laliquegate. it’s a real page-turner.” 

Q: Would you say you felt safe around Morgan?

“emotionally? no. physically?” he paused and shrugged his shoulder, “probably not.” 

Q: Do you wish you had never met Morgan?

“i like to focus on the future, karen. for example, what are you doing tonight because i’m a big fan of donuts and being handcuffed.” 

Q: Do you own a gun?

“yes, but it shoots strictly nerf foam, and i only use it in case of emergencies.” 

Q: Have you handled a gun before?

“i just explained that i’m very well-equipped to handle any nerf gun model made after 1997.” 

Q: Do you know someone who owns a gun?

“me, but i got my license to carry from toys r us before they went bankrupt.”  

Q: Have you gotten into physical fights before?

“i’m a lover not a fighter, karen. i thought you knew that about me already.” 

Q: Is there anyone who can prove where you say you were on the night of her death?

“probably eden, but don’t hold me to that. i might’ve been with a girl i don’t remember.” 

Q: Do you think Morgan deserved to die?

“what the fuck? no. people don’t just deserve to die.” he titled his head and paused,  “except maybe chris martin. fuck that guy and his dead fish eyes.”  

Q: Do you wish she was still alive?

“obviously, but despite popular belief, i’m not god.”

Q: Do you miss her?

he shoved away thoughts of a little girl with pigtails and pink dresses that skipped rocks with him in their grandma’s backyard. it was...easier not to have substance, far less painful. “i mean, she was an asshole, but she was family. it’s weird not seeing her at reunions anymore. i guess that’s kind of missing her, right?”

Q: Has your life gotten better or worse since her death?

“honestly, the same. i didn’t really talk to her that much. she was kind of a downer most of the time.” 

Q: If you could bring her back to life, would you?

“again, i’m not actually god.” he grinned and winked at the detective, “but i think i could make an exception for you.”

Q: Are you hiding something from the people of Hyland? From your family? From me?

“i’ll be honest, i haven’t exactly been forthcoming on exactly how much i like one tree hill––but i’m going to come clean now. i think that one tree hill is a gift to mankind, and i cried when nathan told haley that he loved her for the first time.” he paused and shrugged his shoulders,  “twice.” 

Q: Have you been telling the truth this entire time?

“i’m more than a little hurt you don’t trust me after all we’ve been through, karen. deeply hurt, and that’s on you. i hope you think about that for the rest of today and consider how your actions affect other people.” 

Q: Did you kill Morgan Parrish?

“i would not last one day in prison, so no.” 

[thehollowprince]

Hey, it’s the “coding” anon here and honestly that answer to my question was excellent and the exact reason I come to your blog. I would absolutely love to hear you go on about the fetishization of m/m relationships!

This has been sitting in my inbox for over a week, and I want to apologize. I'm sorry for taking so long to get to this one, but I'm overworked at the moment. I've been pulling 60+ hour work weeks, by myself and I haven't had off since the first of December, so I'm a little tired. But I'm here and I'm ready to murder this bitch of a subject.

For starters, and for context, in case anyone who sees this doesn't follow my blog or, if you do and don't really pay attention, I am a gay man, so a lot of this comes from my own personal experience.

Now, onward my fandom soldiers.

M|M Fetishization & Objectification

I've only been super active within fandom spaces for the last couple of years. Before that, I just scrolled through Tumblr and reblogged gifsets and fluffy headcanons and whatnot, but even then I noticed a trend in fandoms that made me uncomfortable. That trend was the overabundance of gay men (chatacters) in fandom works, especially when there either weren't any gay men in that show or book or whatever.

I'm not at all saying we need less of that. I want and need more gay characters in the things I watch and read. That's actually one of the criteria I look for before I start a new show, or a book series or comics. I want to see myself represented in the media I consume, even if it is only this one tiny piece of who I am. But the problem for me arose when I saw all these fan works and headcanons and gifsets and thesis length metas about gay or bi male characters that were neither of those things in their original source material.

The biggest examples of this occured in fairly popular shows that I loved at one point, but do to a combination of bad writing and then the horrible fandom, drove me to actively dislike and avoid them. And that's always a sad thing, when you end up losing the love you had for something because others just won't let you enjoy it as it is.

Those two examples are Teen Wolf and Supernatural.

For years I watched people go on and on and on and on about Stiles Stilinski and Dean Winchester and how they were bisexual and so on and so forth.

There's nothing wrong with headcanoning a character as gay or bisexual, especially when those characters are severely lacking on screen and on paper. The problem arose when the fandom at large started to ignore the ACTUAL gay or bisexual characters that are in these shows and focus solely on their headcanons as the only representation in the show.

To start with Teen Wolf, we had, in the first season, an openly gay character that everybody in the school loved, that being Danny Mahealani. This character was introduced as gay from the very start, but oddly enough, there is almost no large fandom meta or fics or anything about him. In fact, a lot of his traits and qualities ended up transferred to Stiles, such as his intelligence and overall popularity. Hell, even Danny's attraction to Derek was stolen and transferred to him. These aren't things that Stiles is overall known for in the actual canon. He's clumsy and socially awkward and on the outskirts of the school like Scott (the main character) and has been obsessed (to the point of being considered a stalker) with one girl since elementary school, but somehow, in fandom, Stiles is suddenly the genius polyglot queer with severe depression who has a crush on the broody muscular werewolf who just wants somebody to love him.

Fandom created this portrayal of the character that didn't exist anywhere in the fandom except for his appearance. The reason I saw behind this was twofold. 1: fangirls (fandom is mostly female) want to see two "hot" guys kiss and get it on because they get off to it, much in the same way that straight men get off to lesbian porn. 2: Stiles (or any of these headcanoned characters) becomes a sort of self insert.

What I mean by that second one is that women and girls find a male character that's not "too masculine", usually kind of gangly or skinny, somewhat on the effeminate side. Someone that they can project their ideas and insecurities and so forth onto so that they can that pursue that relationship with the hunky manly man that they want to bang.

You may be asking yourself, "Why don't they just use one of the female characters as a self insert?" and I'm here to tell you that I have neither the time nor the experience to go into detail about internalized misogyny and how effects the way women do almost everything, even watching and interpreting their media.

But the reason they chose the male character is that, years ago, during the dark days of FF.net there was a lot of self insert OCs that infiltrated almost every level of fanfiction. Which caused the fandom gatekeepers to rear out of their hibernation and just shame anyone who tried to introduce an Original Character to this already beautiful world and ruin it with their lusts. Thus the OCs slowly disappeared and identifying with the male sidekick was born. And this is generally where we get the whole "my smol gay son!" bullshit. (side note: please keep in mind that 75% of shows are male characters and their problems, which is another cause for female fans to identify solely with men.)

So, for years, I watched Danny, and then his boyfriend Ethan, being shoved aside in fandom spaces so that the fans could focus Sterek (Stiles and Derek) despite the fact that both characters were stared to be heterosexual and that, on screen, they expressed nothing but mutual dislike for one another, if not outright hatred. This got so bad that Sterek, the crack ship whose members had no romantic or sexual interactions whatsoever, managed to beat (by a very large margin) actual gay ships from both this show and others in a fan poll. It got even worse when the character of Danny was written off the show (with no explanation) and we were introduced to the character of Mason.

Mason Hewitt was everything that fandom!Stiles was. He was smart and funny and openly gay and crushing on a hot werewolf. He even did the research that the fandom loved to attribute to Stiles, literally everything that the fandom had Stiles doing in fanon, but somehow the love for him (Mason) wasn't that big of a note in the fandom. I mean, Mason was even a major plot point of season five and the pack's mission to stop the Beast, but i heard nothing but cricket chirps from the fandom.

You'd think that after Stiles was written out of the show for the last season that maybe Mason will get some love now, right?

Wrong!

I didn't think it was possible to get any worse, but the fandom proved me wrong. Because instead of focusing all their pent up energy on Mason and his boyfriend, Corey, who had a number of cute moments in that final season, these fans focused on another crack ship that had no basis anywhere except in their fantasies. That ship being Thiam, which is based, once again, around two characters who actively dislike, if not outright hate, each other and even physically assault one another. But no, that apparently is a display of affection by someone who is emotionally stunted and just needs love to blossom and be his true self.

You notice how often the fetishization of homosexuality (even if only imagined) intersects with woobification?

You'll notice, if you look at Danny and Mason, that they're both POC, with Danny being brown (Hawai'ian) and Mason being black. Now, as I've said before on this blog multiple times, I am the Whittest White Man to ever White, so I don't have any qualifications to talk about fandom racism, so I'm just going to leave that little nugget there for you to think about and interpret how you will.

Moving on to Supernatural...

Before we start with this one, understand that I have not watched this show outside of an episode here and there since season eight, because I realized that no, this show wasn't going to get any better, so if any of this is contradictory to what has happened over the past six seasons (god, this show needs to die!) I do apologize.

Dean Winchester... I never really liked this character, especially as the show went on and I started to actively dislike and then, hate him. So it was annoying not being able to go into any aspect of the Supernatural fandom without coming across a post about Dean and his issues or his Bi sexiness or how his brother was mean to him.

Also, people, understand that this wasn't a new revelation for me. My dislike for Dean and the fandom's obsession with making him bisexual just so they could hook him up with Cas wasn't an overnight decision. I was there...

I was there at the Beginning, when this show first aired, when the ONLY constant characters on this show were Sam and Dean. I endured the hellfire that was Wincest and its infection of almost the entire fandom. Like, that right there, that was one of the most extreme cases of m|m fetishization I've ever seen, because the fandom needed to get off to two guys being together so badly that they turned to actual brothers for want of any other male character.

That's why Destiel immediately became so popular, because here was another guy that we saw with semi regularity that wasn't rated to the Winchesters, obviously they were meant to ship them.

Now, you may be asking yourself, "I thought this bitch was going to talk about gay fetishization, not his dislike for one character?" to which I'll just say I very easily go off tangent. But all of that is relevant because, come one of these later seasons, there was a scene where Dean was at a bar and the (male) bartender hit on him, and he didn't react negatively or homophobic.

Oh, my God, I watched my dash and the tags explode in post after post, meta after meta, about how Bi Dean was canon confirmed! Now he and Cas will HAVE to be together, because its canon that Dean likes guys. and Cas is an angel, who doesn't follow human sexual limitations, and... blah, blah, blah.

Cut to a few years later, and we're introduced to a character named Max Banes, a witch and hunter, who is openly gay and flirts with Sam in his first appearance. Where were all of his metas and fanfics and headcanons? Granted, he only appeared in two episodes, but I have watched people in this and other fandoms build mountains our of molehills, going on and on about how two male characters weren't actually straight and how they were destined to be together because the once wore similar style shirts a couple of seasons apart, or because of a carnation in a jacket pocket that signified love via the Victorian flower code (or something like that), or how the wallpaper of that room they shared a scene in was a subtle clue to their true desire for each other, etc.

And I'm not exaggerating there, those are actual examples I've seen in fandoms over the years.

But back to Max, why is it that he was left along the wayside, despite fitting most of the criteria that fandoms love in their m|m ships while Dean had entire thesis level posts about that time he shared a glance with Castiel or he let a bartender hit on him and not get upset?

And its not just these two shows, not by a long shot. If you were to go into literally any fandom of a certain size or bigger, you will come across fans putting two straight characters together because of "the chemistry" they have. Even if those characters are confirmed to be straight - especially if those characters are confirmed to be straight. Because when these loud fans don't get their crack ship that they rub one out to, they scream queerbaiting and homophobia and oppression, harassing the actors and producers and directors and writers.

Here are some others that just pop to the front of my mind...

Asher Millstone from How To Get Away With Murder (saw him shipped with Connor a lot, despite Connor's actual boyfriend)

Sherlock Holmes and John Watson from BBC's Sherlock

Tony Stark from Marvel comics (all because of one panel where he said "ladies and gents" when he announced he was off the market

Literally any male character in the MCU, which is his we get the things like Stucky and Stony that permeate the fandom on almost every level (and some leeway is given here because of the MCU's lack of wueer characters)

Klaus Mikaelson and Stefan Salvatore from The Vampire Diaries/The Originals (honestly, I was surprised that people in the TVD fandom weren't immediately all over Josh and Lucas, because they're literally everything that fans want and use in their headcanon gays)

Kol Mikaelson and Jeremg Gilbert, also from TVD

Elia and Filippo from Skam Italia (despite there being, once again, actual gay characters on this show. Hell, the entire second season was dedicated to a character coming out of the closet and being with a guy)

Etc.

I could go on and on but then this post would seem infinite.

Closing thoughts, please keep in mind that I am just one guy and that my opinions don't represent everyone in fandom spaces. But also bear in mind, that my frustrations are well founded and valid from my own experiences in the fandom.

My sexuality and the fact that I'm attracted to men is not a toy for a bunch of sexually repressed fangirls who think two guys being together is hot.

[christinethethunnus]

So..back from watching HTTYD 3...

(I respect everyone who loved it and cried during watching it, so if you loved it a lot, I recommend on not reading this post.) 

(Contains entire plot of movie including personal criticism.) 

And I didn’t really like it. I thought the visuals were good, but the plot and motivations were really weak compared to the previous movies and there was a lot of weird stuff in there that was just unnecessary or actually relevant.

 My main problem with is it’s just too predictable. Movies can be predictable, and maybe because this is the last movie of a trilogy I might have gotten too hyped up. But if you’re going to make it be predictable, then add actually good conflict or good dialogue. But the dialogue is so cliched like, How are your plans on conquering the world going? You’re the one who changed me, I will destroy everything and everyone you love MUHAHAHAHHA Our home is not only this place we live on, it’s us and something like that. 

 And am I the only one who thought the writers were gonna go with Tuffnut is actually gay for Hiccup route? I know he’s an annoying character, but the way he’s always bringing up

  is Hiccup’s getting married to Astrid, is he not gonna get married to her, he’s gonna help out with him, talks about a lot about Hiccup, overly agreeing with everything he does and the weird smashing Hiccup into his ‘beard’ 

was really disturbing in my opinion. I don’t get why Tuffnut’s there. 

 Snotlout likes Valka now. Yeah, wasn’t okay at all with that. And he still has inferiority issues, now with Eret. Which was resolved in the end with Hiccup’s mom going like hey, I think you have better brains than Eret, which means we have possible chemistry and this is NOT OKAY TO ME. Snotlout never had any scene which would make her say that, and why would she even show any interest to someone at a similar age to her son? 

I have no idea how Snotlout’s character development is like in the tv series, but writers, if you’re gonna use that as a character trait, can’t you just have it actually be relevant to the story and build up the guy to be an actual character than a stereotypical stupid bully jerk who now likes the MAIN CHARACTER’S MOM??? 

And the villain.

This guy. I forgot what his name was after I came out watching it, so I just found it’s Grimmel, Grimmel the Grisly. Okay. You claim to have killed all of the Night Furies. How did you know you killed all of them? Did you like count all of the N.Fs and then started killing them off one by one? Did you do the same with the Light Furies? Does NightLight Furies live outside of the Hidden world and that’s why you could count all of them? 

How does Valka know the Night Furies were all killed too? If He’s a dragon ‘hunter’ why didn’t Valka, who were protecting the dragons like Hiccup, not know who he is and have methods to defend against him? Was she just protecting dragons who lived in a certain range of land? 

I really thought Grimmel was going to turn out as the ‘Anti-Hiccup’, someone who Hiccup could have been, challenging Hiccup physically and psychologically. He could have threatened to destroy Berk with the help of his conqueror friends, he says he’s a hunter but Hiccup and his friends and viking guys just chill on the island. 

At that scene when Grimmel’s like ‘can’t you guess where they must have gone’(evil guy face), I was thinking that this guy knows EVERY PLAN THAT’S GOING ON IN HICCUP’S BRAIN OMG DON’T CAMP IN THAT ISLAND YOU GUYS ARE DOOMED but no, they have to tail Ruffnut, who was accidentally left behind, to find the actual location wayyyyyy later on. Great tracking skills, I’m so impressed. 

I can’t help but think the writers went the easy route because they didn’t want to take risks and disappoint or shock the kids that would watch the movies, but you’ve already taken risks in the first and second movies with Hiccup’s leg and Stoick’s death, the viewers have grown up with the movies, so why are you going backwards all of a sudden? Not to mention this being the end of the trilogy so I can’t expect that the next one will be better than this one. 

 My final rant is a plot I wrote right after I came back from watching it yesterday, contains the entire plot of the movie, I didn’t change the final half completely because I had to rest after all that 3D and moving chairs, just added ideas which I thought could have been in some scenes. It’s not great, some scenes could be cliche too, but it’s what I wished could have been. I haven’t watched the entire TV series, so please put that into consideration. 

(I didn’t write Grimmel’s name because I forgot what it was at the time when I was writing this down, but I think bad guy’s enough for his current characterization and you could add any name in it if you wanted, I also forgot how you call the people of Berk and just wrote vikings instead. There’s no full dialogue scenes either, just some gibberish lines.) 

Hiccup and gang saves the dragons, and returns to Berk.

 Berk is overpopulated by dragons and humans, and while managing to co-exist with them, are having problems like the dragons consuming too many fish, serious arson, and some of the vikings (including Gobber) are interested in plundering other villages with their dragons, because that’s what VIKINGS DO.

The giant dragon knocks down the towers which served as houses for the dragons, and they need a place to stay, and the newcomer dragons end up barging into the Vikings’ houses, being not accustomed to the rules. The alpha, Toothless, tries to control them, but the damage is done.

So, Hiccup is forced to look for a haven for some of the dragons to stay beyond Berk, which he recalls the memory of his dad, and the stories of the ‘Hidden World of Dragons.’ And while he wants to work on looking for that, Hiccup is chief, and can’t leave the village like he used to while Stoick was around. Hiccup also addresses that they’ll have to do something about the dragon hunters and their plans to use the dragons as weapons, and same scene with Gobber, him saying that one day Hiccup will meet his match. 

(Scene with the Conquerors, showing them training dragons to be brutal killers and detailed plans of weaponizing them) appearance of the bad guy, he doesn’t look menacing, thin and has the appearance of a weasel. Is irked at the mentioning of ‘dragon riders’, and follows similarly to movie scene. (shows his power of DARTS by immobilizing a big dragon) 

 Snotlout, claiming to be second in charge, leaves with Astrid, (and the dragons) and he brags about how dismayed she must be to lose such a guy like him (Astrid ignores him), and continues to fantasize about Hiccup’s mom.

Astrid: (disgusted, scoffs) she’s like the same age as your mom

Snotlout: and more awesome, thinner and beautiful...... (A:ugh)

Snotlout mumbles about her probably preferring Eret, and they talk over Snotlout feeling inferior and wanting to get compensation from being adored by stronger women. (like Valka or Astrid)  Astrid points out he can’t fill in that gap by getting married to the previous chief’s wife, he has to prove himself actually being courageous (S:Which I am!) They go through clouds, and is astonished.

(black screen, transitions to Berk) 

Toothless tries to play with Hiccup, but he’s burdened by his chief duties and can’t spend time with his bud. Pouting, Toothless leaves the hut and catches the scent of the Light Fury and searches for her, meeting in the forest. They have a moment, but she flies away, and Toothless looks at his prosthetic tail with resent, and looks back to the sky with longing. 

(Transition to hidden island in the clouds) 

Snotlout and Astrid arrive on the island, and finds it good enough to hide the dragons in it, and the dragons find refuge in the woods. Snotlout announces all is done and they should leave, but Astrid decides to explore the island, and draws it on pieces of paper. Snotlout questions what she’s doing, and Astrid answers it’s for Hiccup’s map. S comments on when she’s so become like Hiccup, and she comments, 

Yeah, I never saw it coming.   (Astrid smiles as she continues to draw, when suddenly she spots the Light Fury in the sky, and hurriedly draws it on another paper.)

Done with work, Hiccup sighs as he finally comes out, and sees Toothless, and asks whether his bud wants to get some flying with him. Toothless looks depressed, and trips Hiccup with his prosthetic tail. 

“Aw, come on, what you’d do that for?” (Toothless:growls)  and Hiccup is slightly worried about him. Astrid arrives with Snotlout, their mission accomplished, and Snotlout announces that HE’S seen a NEW NIGHT FURY, ONLY WHITE BUT NEW AND IT WAS HE WHO FOUND IT SO HE’LL NAME IT-  Astrid comes over to Hiccup, and hands over the drawing, and that it disappeared while being  chased by other dragons she’s never seen before.(the bad guy’s dragons.) She comments on them being very hostile, and that they were trying to force the L.Fury to come with them. Toothless listens to them talking, and makes enthusiastic motions at the mentioning of the Light Fury (also named by Astrid)

(transition to Valka) she talks about how the Night furies went extinct (memory scene) she was looking for other dragons which were going extinct, and comes across the bad guy’s lair which had skull upon skull of all kinds of dragons, and mostly Night and Light furies. And since she could communicate with dragons she never heard of them recalling on seeing another Night Fury, so assumed they had gone extinct. (Fishlegs adding that the last records of N,Furies were made of patches of writings from decades ago, so it was unclear whether they went extinct or not)

After listening to Valka, Hiccup is delighted at the idea of finding a new dragon, and wants to go and find it. Some of the Vikings are interested in having another Night fury to protect them, which they could use in their pillaging villages.(Viking stuff) Hiccup is still against using dragons as weapons, (H: They are our family) and Gobber counters, We are already using them to make weapons, you, are doing it as well, Hiccup. (H:But not to harm other humans-) But you are no Dragon. It’s high time you chose the side where you want to rule over.

And Hiccup notices most of the things he did was to assist in humans living a better life with dragons than actually trying to solve the problems the villagers had. He wonders whether he just took the place of chief just to not disappoint his father. Hiccup turns to talk with Toothless to collect his thoughts, but he’s not there, and Hiccup feels more alone and burdened than ever.

Toothless is absent during the previous scene, as he hears distress calls from afar and looks for the Light Fury. He can’t fly, but can glides down and climbs trees to look for her, and finds her hurt and afraid, injured by the bad guy’s dragons.   (same scene like the movie, tries to court her, but fails, tries again, but fails, and then succeeds with the drawing.) and when she tries to get more close, she’s shot by the evil guy’s dart, and Toothless is captured in a trap. He calls a distress call, which orders all of the dragons on Berk, who goes to save him, and the Vikings including Hiccup notice this. Before Toothless is taken, Hiccup arrives on the back of another dragon, and Hiccup encounters his enemy for the first time, but the guy flies away with his dragons. 

(transition to dart scene) Eret explains who the bad guy is, calls him ‘The Dragonslayer’  who was rumored to have killed all of the Night Furies. which connects to Valka’s story of the dragon skeleton heap. Eret adds, that if the conquerors have called upon the bad guy, then they must be ready for another attack. The Vikings call on war with the conquerors and the Dragonslayer, and they’ll use their dragons to crush them. Against the idea, Hiccup tries to say they could work things out without fighting, but he is reminded by Snotlout (Valka winces) how that turned out a year ago. He looks for Astrid to support, but she agrees with Snotlout, saying that she can’t lose him too. Not a second time. And she glances at his prosthetic leg. [which H notices, and understands]

The crowd over agreeing or disagreeing on war, and Hiccup bellows Enough! 

He asks to give him some time, he’ll work something out, and goes into his hut. (opens his map and Stoick’s book about the Hidden world.

 (same scene with the bad guy)(the bad guy’s dragons circle around Hiccup, threatening him, drooling venom)they have a talk about how the guy became a hero by killing a night Fury, (Hiccup is reminded of himself

in the first movie) Hiccup claims the dragons are harmless, and can live along with humans, as he has proven with Berk,

But the bad guy retorts, then why can’t the other Vikings exist with the dragons, if they are so harmless? Why didn’t the people of Berk co-exist with dragons before Hiccup, although they must have had so many chances to?

Hiccup:  Because they went the easy way of trying to kill them off.

B.G: Exactly. And how wrong is that? You don’t seriously think dragons to be equal to you? Just because they are big lizards that breathe fire and can fly? You wouldn’t befriend flies even if they had grown to the size of a horse, you kill them. same with dragons.

Hiccup tries to ignore the bad guy’s words, claiming he’s nothing but a cold blooded murderer, and the bad guy says he killed dragons for humans, and was therefore hailed a hero among men. Just like Stoick.  

“And whose chief were you again? Hiccup, Savior of Dragons?”

  Suddenly, Astrid hacks into the hut with Stormfly, which smelled the dragons’ venom. She saves Hiccup (and asleep Toothless or fake Fishlegs, but then Toothless comes to save Hiccup with Astrid) 

 and the bad guy retreats on his dragons, shouting that he will kill off the last Night fury alive, and he will wear their skin as his coat to honor Stoick, the greatest of dragonkillers. If Hiccup dares to stop him, he will destroy Berk. (The hut is burnt down)

Everyone hurridly arrives to see Stoick’s hut burn down, and Astrid pulling Hiccup out, them coughing from the smoke.

Hiccup says they’re in danger, the bad guy’s going to come for them unless he gives up Toothless and the dragons. The Vikings and Snotlout claim this a proclamation of war, and they leave to prepare for it, and Hiccup tries to stop them, but they don’t listen, and leave off without him. Agitated, he sighs, and leans on a post to think. Astrid comes up to Hiccup, and asks him if he’s okay. 

Hiccup: Yeah, probably, on a second…I don’t think so.

She smiles as she gives him the map of the island she (and Snotlout)found.

“I don’t think this is the place you were looking for.. but it’s not half bad. And it’s a new add to your map. “ Hiccup ponders on this information, large, not on the map, and hidden from plain sight.

He calls on the Vikings that they could move on to this Island to hide themselves, and the dragons to hide from the ships that are coming for Berk. Hiccup declares that he cannot lose the soul of Berk which is both this island and the lives of people of it.) Including the dragons.

(same scene with the bad guy and the conquerors) – B.G says he has a plan to find them (Moves off to the island with the dragons.)

(scene with Snotlout and Valka talking about inferiority issues (she says she only loves Stoick, and gives him motherly advice on being warrior like by talking about Stoick) 

---(Below are summaries of the scene from the movie, and the ideas I wished it could have been)

*The L.F arrives on the island, Toothless is given the good new tail and goes after her

Hiccup tries to capture the bad guy, falls into obvious trap (Ruffnut captured and annoys the bad guy, he follows her back with the armada)  

-  Ruffnut talks about everything about the Hiccup Gang, the bad guy could have like used that to harm Astrid and force Hiccup to do his shit or if they’re only eating fish, use some dragon to poison the water and fish so they’ll starve to death. Ever heard of Siege tactics?

*Hiccup tries to find Toothless, finds the hidden world. (Toothless hailed king, Hiccup is saved by Toothless and remembers his dad talking about his mom and getting not married and how love is powerful) 

-      This could have gone like this, Hiccup and Astrid is attacked by the dragons, and as Hiccup is the intruder, (or he or Astrid accidentally injures a dragon) Toothless shows hostility towards him, (mirrors hostility from first movie), until he recognizes it’s his best friend. Hiccup, who looks upon him with some fear. Toothless tries to look menacing to save face, and ‘kidnaps Hiccup and Astrid’, flying out to the outside world to save his friends. 

-      and Hiccup has a flashback of his dad, being this dragon killing warrior, and how he too wanted to be like his dad. But despite his fearsome front, he still believed in love and loved his mother.

*Goes back to Berk, only to find that the L.Fury returned with them, she is captured by the bad guy,  and Toothless is captured, and the other dragons have to follow their ‘Alpha’ and are caged. Hiccup is distressed, Astrid cheers him up, the gang suit up and glide down to the so conveniently barked enemy ships ALONE and tries to save Toothless (with no plan, just kamikazes into it) -      After the bad guy leaves, the Vikings panic on having no ships and stuff and they’re stuck on the island(All of their dragons are gone and nobody notices or panics?? Did the dragons mean nothing to them?) 

-      Hiccup talks with Astrid about how similar he could have been to the bad guy, whether if the bad guy is actually the true successor of his dad, the dragon slaying warrior. Astrid reminds Hiccup of how he’s changed the lives of Berk for the better by saving and looking for ways to live with dragons, that he’s always been looking for ways for both dragons and humans, and just because everyone doesn’t get Hiccup’s methods deem his work useless. Hiccup being an exception has changed so many lives and destinies, including his dad. And don’t forget it’s him who made Astrid who she is now.  Now determined, Hiccup stands. 

-      (Orders the Vikings to fight for their once friends, and regain the victory of vikings (and Snotlout agrees with him, (maybe he’s finally learned some humiliation and acceptance by then, idk) 

-      Leads the Vikings all to fly, and they all attack the fleet (surely he has more flying suits...) 

*they don’t save Toothless until the last part, saves the other dragons first and destroys ships, and then has fight with bad guy, who flies off with L.Fury and Hiccup follows with Toothless, Toothless zaps the other evil dragons into oblivion, bad guy injures Toothless and Hiccup holds onto the guy and tells L.F to go save Toothless, and he lets go and falls with the bad guy.

Bad guy rips off Hiccup’s wings, and L.F catches Hiccup, Hiccup takes off his prosthetic leg and the guy (holding on to the leg) falls to the ocean and dies(probably)   -      There could be dialogue in this scene, cliché but cool like if your father could see you now something. Maybe he takes both Astrid and the Light Fury and makes Hiccup choose between the two, 

 and Hiccup frees the Light Fury, tells her to save Toothless, hands himself over to the bad guy, and chooses to fall to the sea to save Astrid . 

“If your father could see you now. Sacrificing the love of your life... and your life for a dragon.” 

“He’d be proud.” 

[insert Astrid grinning back at Hiccup]

-      Astrid attacks the bad guy, who falls from his dragon(or falls with dragon until the dragon gets to his senses and abandons him) and Astrid leaps down to save Hiccup, (she tries to glide but the fall is too great) and they hold onto each other before falling……and then the Light fury catches them. (Give me more Hiccstrid dammit) 

(Hiccup chooses to let the dragons go, away from the humans so that they’ll never be used as weapons again) 

(I kind of expected the dragons to shut the door to their world and that’s why they can’t meet again, and can’t they just go back to the isle of Berk by making ships? I see no reason for them to not go back home) 

*Hiccup lets go of Toothless and the dragons, and gets married with Astrid (best scene with the final fight scene, where they both look at each other and the soundtrack from the first movie oh SO GREAT ) Years pass, Berk has no dragons, and Hiccup and Astrid and their kids go to the end of the world and sees Toothless again, Toothless remembers Hiccup and they ride him and Stormfly and goes off (monologue going on like the dragons are waiting for humans to accept them)

-      monologue about Berk, establishing shot with clouds, the first person view being a flying figure, and the viewer sees faint figures which look like dragons flying through the sky. The camera moves through clouds and dives down, showing the new island of Berk, the sea and Viking fleet. -      Hiccup leading a fleet with Astrid, they come across a great mist and hear sounds of dragons, but cannot see them. Astrid stands on the front deck with her children, they try to touch the mist as if she’s trying to touch the clouds (homage to first movie) The new generation of vikings are worried of the sounds being a threat, but Hiccup calms them down, and silently waits looking up to the clouds. 

Suddenly a black great figure lands on the ship, the children scramble behind Astrid’s back, and she assures them, saying it’s okay.

-      Hiccup slowly movies towards the figure, and same scene as in movie, they recognize each other, and the camera shows their expressions (as if they realize something forgotten) and ends with title.

(End) 

The bad guy’s plot for my plot (the first half I wrote) , First, make his dragons force the Light Fury to land on Berk to hide herself, and she’ll meet Toothless, and the N.L furies mate for life so they’ll fall for each other. The Light Fury’ll want to find a safe place to not get captured again, so she’ll look for a place to hide with her possible future mate in or out of Berk, but he orders his dragons to injure her, and get her calling for help, forcing Toothless to be more concerned about her. (Making them inseparable) And then it returns back to the movie with him capturing her and then forcing Toothless to be captured and then taking all the dragons in Berk.......................................................................................................................but why doesn’t he force them to lead him to the Hidden world, where he could kill all dragons by blocking the hole and Atlantising them? Why would he let her go in the first place, without any dragon following where she is?? Can he SMELL DRAGON? IS THAT HOW HE CAN TRACK THEM DOWN?? How was he sure that they’d come back after the Light Fury took Toothless back to the H.Word??? This is so confusing and ugh your plans are the worst GRIMMEL THE GRISLY YOUR NAME IS FORGETFUL AND SO IS YOUR TITLE OF DRAGON KILLER GO FOR SOMETHING THAT PEOPLE CAN REMEMBER AFTER HOLDING ONTO MOVING CHAIRS FOR OVER AN HOUR in fact, you are NEVER SHOWN ACTUALLY KILLING A DRAGON, YOU ALWAYS JUST PUT THEM TO SLEEP YOU ARE NOT A DRAGON SLEEP FAIRY 

I do think the sub-title ‘The Hidden World’ doesn’t suit this plot, but it doesn’t matter probably. I’m really sad to see it go, but am still joyous to see that wedding scene. I’m happy to have grown up with you, How to Train your Dragon, good bye and farewell. 

[storywool]

Happy Birthday, Cap

Request:  Hey! Can you do Steve Rogers x reader? They fight, argue and tease each other, but secretly in love in love with each other and then one day somethaang happens and it slips?

A/N: So, I kind of went overboard with this one. It was too much fun writing not to go overboard, though. Let me know what you think!! 

Word Count: 5,621 

It comes once a year, like all holidays do, but this one has a different style. For instance, Christmas is usually characterized by family, love, warmth, and presents. Halloween is characterized by costumes, candy, and the things that lurk in the night. Valentine’s Day is characterized by love, candy, and happiness.

But the fourth of July, aka America’s Independence Day, is characterized by alcohol, grilling, and fireworks. Its energy is chaotic and wild, and takes no prisoners. Even if you’re not American, you celebrate the fourth of July, and if it’s ironic celebration, no one really cares.

Y/n was the latter type of person. She was American, born and raised, but didn’t honestly celebrate the fourth of July with pride. The America she lived in was nothing like the America the founding fathers wanted with they signed the Declaration of Independence back in 1776. The America she knew was tyrannical, evil, and spiteful. The America she knew cared more about its corporations rather than its people, and hundreds of thousands of Americans didn’t even have the resources to celebrate this day. How could they afford fireworks, food, beer, and all the other things associated with the fourth of July when they couldn’t even afford a roof over their head?

Though Y/n felt this way, she did still celebrate the fourth of July. She just kept the heavy chip on her shoulder as a reminder that she’s celebrating what America could have been, not what it currently is. Plus, it was Steve’s birthday, his 100th birthday at that. That was something she would celebrate wholeheartedly. Sam and Y/n worked all night decorating the common room with decorations. The most notable decoration was a piñata of an eagle wearing Uncle Sam’s hat. Y/n found it at a party store and just had to get it. They filled it with red, white, and blue themed candies. They also got loads of streamers, balloons, and a ‘pin the shield on Captain America’ game. She knew Steve would kill her for that one, but it was too good to pass up.

At nine AM that day, most of the compound (Y/n, Sam, Bucky, Wanda, and Natasha) dressed to the nine’s in America themed gear, grabbed noise makers and a speaker, and barged into Steve’s room blasting “Team America”. Y/n, Wanda, and Nat jumped up on Steve’s bed and blew the noise makers in his face until he had no option other than to wake up. When he was mostly awake, they sang “Happy Birthday” at the top of their lungs.

“Hey do you remember that one time I punched Hitler in the face?” Tired Steve asked.

“It’s not like you let us forget it.” Y/n replied as she took a seat on his bed.

“That’s because I want to remind all of you what I’ll do to people who piss me off.” He sighed and pulled the covers over his head. Y/n rolled her eyes and yanked the covers down so he would have to look at her.

“I guess you’re just gonna have to punch me in the face then because I’m not leaving until you get out of bed.” She grabbed Steve’s hand and pulled him up to a sitting position.

“Come on Grandpa, it’s not every day you turn 100!” Bucky cheered. Steve traded an ‘eat-shit-and-die’ look with Bucky before sharing that look with Y/n. She just smiled at him, loving the misery she was putting him through.

“Says the guy who is older than me.”

Bucky scoffed, “By one year asshole.”

“Steve, come on. We’ve got lots planned for today!” Y/n pleaded.

Steve groaned loudly before throwing the covers off of himself and exposing his bare chest and boxer shorts. Y/n took a few extra moments to admire his chest and muscles, which were deliciously defined. The group cheered sarcastically as he sluggishly got out of bed.

“Can I have some privacy to get dressed?” Steve asked.

“I guess we can make that happen.” Y/n responded and jumped up from her spot. The group filed out the door, but Steve asked Y/n to stay back for a second. She really didn’t want to just because she knew she’d end up staring at his chest too long.

“Yeah, what’s up?” She tried to sound nonchalant.

Steve grabbed a t-shirt from his closet and threw it on over his head quickly. Y/n involuntarily sighed, letting go of a breath that she didn’t realize she was holding. “What embarrassing things have you planned for today?” He only partially smiled.

Y/n scoffed and crossed her arms. “I’m offended! When have I ever purposely embarrassed you?”

“Every time we go to the grocery store you try to embarrass me.”

“Well maybe they shouldn’t play such funky 80’s music. If they didn’t play that music, I wouldn’t dance in the aisle.”

“That’s a damn lie and you know it.” Steve laughed. Y/n smiled and blushed slightly.

“You also just make it so easy.” Y/n leaned against his dresser. They always bickered like this, ever since Y/n joined the Avengers. It was usually fun, sometimes even flirty, but Y/n and Steve were known to get into an argument every now and then. They often had the same points of views on issues, but they had different ways of going about it. Steve just did whatever he felt like doing, while Y/n paid a little bit more attention to the rules. “Plus,” she added, “You know how I feel about birthdays. I gotta go all out.”  

At least he should know how she felt about birthdays. She loved them and loved celebrating them. Life was something to be celebrated, and the day you came into this world should be part of that celebration. There didn’t have to be a big party or lots of presents; as long as you have your friends and loved ones, that’s all you needed.

But a big party definitely helped, especially when you’re Captain America and your birthday is Independence Day. This was New York City, home of Elise Island, so the city tended to go all out with the fireworks and celebrations. Y/n knew that Steve didn’t like fireworks because the noise reminded him of the war, so she thought a party would help to distract him from everything else. At least that was the plan.

“Yes, I do, but you still haven’t answered my question.” Steve said as he tied his shoes.

“Don’t you want to be surprised?”

“Y/n, I hate surprises.”

“No you don’t. You just hate the bad ones. Now come on.” She reached out for his hands, and he placed his in hers hesitantly. She pulled him up from the bed so he was standing and towering over her. God, he was so tall, she thought as she very obviously stared at his plump lips. She had thought about kissing those lips so many times.

Y/n, focus, she told herself.

They exited the bedroom and walked straight into the decorated common room. Steve’s first and only reaction was him rolling his eyes and sighing. “What’s all this?” He asked rhetorically.

“We were just getting ready for tonight.” Nat replied.

He turned to Y/n, “Um, what?”

“Your party, duh.” Y/n answered matter-of-factly. “Big day, lots of stuff planned, remember?”

They all headed to the dining room where they had a delicious breakfast prepared by the onsite chefs. They had eggs, bacon, waffles, and lots of other decadent delights. Once satisfied and full, Y/n clapped her hands, excited to get the attention of the group.

“Okay, so as we all know, we’re celebrating Steve’s 100th birthday today. Not many people make it to 100 and get to look the way he does.” Y/n and Steve traded a small grin, “And as much fun as birthdays are, they’re also reminders that life is short for most people who aren’t genetically modified super soldiers.” Steve and Bucky raised their glasses to each other, which earned a laugh from everyone at the table. “And because life is so short, we- and I mean Bucky and myself- decided that today, you should embrace life’s brevity.” Bucky turned around to a table behind him and grabbed a piece of paper that he handed to Y/n. It read ‘bucket list’ in big, messy handwriting that belonged to none other than Steve Rogers. Y/n turned the paper to face the group.

“Where did you find that?” Steve questioned with a smile on his face. He hadn’t seen that list in forever.

“I was going through some stuff a while back and found it in a box in the back of my closet.” Bucky said. He was also smiling.

“God, I think I made this my senior year?”

“Yep, on prom night after your date ditched you and we decided to get drunk at a park instead.” The two old timers laughed at the memory. Y/n couldn’t help but smile and giggle with them. She loved seeing this side of them. It was so un-Avengers like.

“Buck went on and crossed out anything you’ve already done, like win a metal of armor or,” she pointed to one of the lines and chuckled, “fly in an airplane, and crossed out things that aren’t relevant, like meeting FDR. Anyways, today, Steven Grant Rogers, you are going to complete your bucket list. Well, as much as we can complete before your party at eight.”

“Are you serious?”

“Oh, Dixie Chick serious.” Y/n said. Steve only understood the Pitch Perfect reference because Y/n forced him to watch it on several occasions. Even though he wasn’t a fan, he liked spending the time with Y/n. She was such a touchy person that they’d almost always end up cuddling in some way, shape, or form on the couch, especially if one of them fell asleep. Honestly, if it weren’t for Y/n, Steve would still be very poorly versed in modern pop culture.

She handed the list to Steve, “Pick which one you want to do first.” He scanned the list, looking for something that stood out to him. He didn’t know which item he wanted to do the most, so he did what any indecisive adult does: he placed the paper on the table, closed his eyes, circled his finger around the paper, and placed his finger on a random spot. He opened his eyes to find his finger on item ten: get a tattoo.

“The finger has spoken.” Y/n joked.

“What’s it saying?” Sam asked.

Steve cleared his throat and dramatically read it. There wasn’t a member in the group that wasn’t super excited. The fossil known as Steve Rogers was going to get a tattoo today.

“Do you even know what you’d get?” Bucky questioned.

Steve chuckled, “Actually no.”

“You could add a layer of excitement and let someone pick it for you.” Nat suggested. Steve mulled the idea over in his head; it would be exciting and spontaneous, both things Steve was notorious for.

“I don’t trust any of you to pick something that will be on my body permanently.”

“Eenie meenie minie mo it.” Y/n recommended.

“Well seeing as you’re the only person at this table with a tattoo, I guess I’d trust your judgment the most.” Steve said, motioning to Y/n. Her face transformed into one of shock. She was certain he would have asked Bucky to pick it out for him, seeing as they were best friends.  

“Wait, you don’t want your best friend since high school to pick it for you?” She asked.

“I know nothing about tattoos, especially tattoos in this day and age. You’re the man for this job, Y/n.” Bucky replied. Y/n sighed at the heavy load on her shoulders. She had to pick the perfect first tattoo for Steve.

“Are you okay with that?” Steve asked.

“Oh, definitely. Just give me…an hour to think of something and draw it up.” She got up from the table but turned back to the group before she left, “I can’t go to a tattoo shop and not get one, so Steve, since I’m picking one for you, you have to pick one for me.”

Steve tried his best to hide a smile that was creeping onto his face, but he wasn’t doing a good job. Honestly, he was kind of flattered that Y/n wanted him to pick a tattoo for her. It didn’t help that he was helplessly in love with Y/n, either. To Steve, deciding a tattoo for her was an intimate and personal thing. Y/n was a thoughtful person and deserved a thoughtful tattoo.

“Aye, aye captain.” Steve said.

After their allotted hour passed, Steve and Y/n jumped into the car to head to a shop outside of Manhattan. The others decided not to come so they wouldn’t overcrowd the shop. The shop was owned by one of Y/n’s college friends, so she had been there before and knew it wouldn’t take long. It was also the only place open on a holiday.

To add even more excitement to the experience, Y/n and Steve decided they weren’t going to show each other what they picked out. It took a lot of trust, but Y/n trusted Steve more than anyone else. She knew he wouldn’t pick something she wouldn’t like.

“Is that Y/n Y/L/n?” A guy at the front desk with huge gauges in his ears and sleeves of tattoos on both of his arms asked when the pair walked in.

“Live and in the flesh.” She said as she ran over to give him a hug. “How’ve you been Nic?”

“Eh, can’t complain, just working mostly. What about you?”

“Good, good. Yeah, I actually got recruited to the Avengers about a year ago.”

“No shit, that’s awesome! Always knew you’d go far with that brain of yours.” Nic grinned from ear to ear. Y/n was a genius in school, and though she wasn’t technically a superhero, she was an incredibly useful asset to the Avengers team. Tony recruited her after hearing her graduate school thesis defense on using magnetic waves as intergalactic communication. Tony thought this was important after Thor and Bruce disappeared for months. Her research ended up being crucial for a lot of the work Stark Industries was doing.  

“Yeah and this is my partner in crime!” Y/n gestured to Steve.

Nic looked starstruck as his brain processed who was in front of him, “Holy shit, you’re Captain America!” Nic stuck his hand out and Steve shook it hesitantly. He didn’t really want to be nice to someone who appeared to be flirting with Y/n, but this was also the man who was going to permanently paint his skin.

“Pleasure.” Steve said coyly.

“Steve’s actually here to get a tattoo.” Y/n told Nic, breaking the awkward interaction between Nic and Steve.

“Righteous! What are you wanting to get?”

“We actually picked out tattoos for each other, and we want it to be a surprise.” Steve said.

With that, Y/n offered to go first since she knew what the experience would be like and apparently, her tattoo wouldn’t take as long as Steve’s would. Y/n let Steve pick out the spot too, and he picked her inner bicep on her right arm. Steve put a blindfold over her eyes too so she wouldn’t be able to take a peek at it.  

“Alright, you ready?” Nic asked.

“Born ready.”

The engine of the tattoo gun hummed deliciously, sending chills up Y/n’s spine. The things people said about getting tattoos were true: once you get one, you can’t stop. It was less painful than it was irritating, but was worth it in the end. Your body is a temple and you should be able to decorate it the way you want. That’s why Y/n had so many tattoos (she had nine and this would be her tenth).

After about thirty minutes, Nic wiped the tattoo one more time. “Okie dokie, you’re done! Go look.” Y/n took off her blindfold and practically ran to the mirror, Steve right on her heels. It was a triangle with a black and white mountain landscape inside the triangle. In between two of the mountain peaks was a rising sun with cute little sun rays coming off of it. There were trees lining the bottom of the mountains with delicate flowers underneath some of the trees. Y/n audibly gasped when she saw it.

Instantly, she knew why Steve picked this tattoo. Y/n very rarely went on missions with the Avengers because, unlike Tony, she didn’t have a super suit. However, one time, they had a mission in Wakanda and needed all hands on deck. Y/n worked in the lab with King T’Challa’s sister, Shuri, on some new technology. During this trip, they had a little downtime, and Y/n really wanted to explore since she had never been to Wakanda. Steve and Y/n went on an expedition to the mountains and they hiked to the highest peak. They had some dinner and a bottle of wine while the sunset; it was absolutely breathtaking and romantic. It was also the first time Y/n realized she was in love with Steve, and the first time Steve realized the same about Y/n.

“Oh my god, I love it.” She whispered breathlessly. Words couldn’t even being to describe the love she felt. She turned from the mirror and threw her arms over Steve’s neck. His hands wrapped around her waist and held on tight- just the way Y/n liked it.

“Thank you.” She whispered in his ear. He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to.

Nic finished cleaning up the mess he made during Y/n’s session and called Steve over to the chair. Steve let Y/n pick the location too, and since it was his first tattoo, she picked somewhere that wouldn’t be super obvious- his right shoulder.

Steve’s tattoo took almost an hour once all the shading and line work was said and done. Steve didn’t feel any pain but could tell with a simple glance that his skin was bright red. He jumped up and jogged to the mirror. His breath hitched in his throat when he saw the work of art forever etched into his skin. It was done in the traditional style, which was very common back during World War II, and he knew that’s why Y/n picked that style. The tattoo itself was an orange and red phoenix that was surrounded by a white ribbon that read “still I rise”.

The quote came from Steve’s favorite poem, “Still I Rise” by Maya Angelou. He first read it shortly after coming out of the ice, when he was catching up on things he missed. After meeting Y/n, who was very involved with civil rights issues, he gave the poem another read, and he realized the importance of it, not just for black people but for women as well. No, Steve was not a black person or a woman, but he grew up poor and sickly, was bullied his whole life, and was an orphan. He understood some of the struggles people could face. That poem resonated with him.

Adding the quote with the phoenix, the symbol of rebirth, was surreal for him. He knew that the phoenix was supposed to symbolize his return from the ice, to emphasize his resilience. The phoenix gave the quote even more personal meaning; like a phoenix from the ashes, still he’ll rise. Also, the traditional style was one of his favorites, and one of his best friends drew the tattoo.  

He was at a loss for words. It was everything he had expected and more. It was pretty badass, too, which was essential for America’s favorite superhero.

“You like?” Y/n asked at Steve’s unusual quietness. He turned from the mirror to face Y/n; their eyes made contact and it seemed like the world around them completely disappeared. It was just them, sharing this unintended intimate moment.

“It’s amazing. Thank you.” He said in an almost sultry voice. Chills ran up and down Y/n’s spine, and she did her best to conceal the shiver. It didn’t really go unnoticed by Steve.

A loud noise behind them pulled them from their weird trance. The noise was just Nic cleaning up and he accidentally dropped something. Y/n and Steve awkwardly paid and made their way back to the compound. Y/n stared at her saran-wrapped arm the whole ride home. She couldn’t get over how good it looked and how well it matched her aesthetic.

“You really do like it, right?” Y/n questioned, filling the silence in the car.

“No I hate it. I already scheduled an appointment to get it removed.” Steve traded a glance with Y/n. She laughed sarcastically.

After arriving home and showing the rest of the group their new tattoos, the group decided to tackle another bucket list item. This time, everyone could participate, since item fifteen- ride every ride at Coney Island- was something everyone could do. Coney Island had expanded a lot since Steve’s last go around on a rollercoaster there, so there would be plenty of fun to be had. They even bought express passes when they got there so they didn’t have to wait in the crazy long lines that holidays usually brought to Coney Island.

Y/n knew being back here would be weird for Steve and Bucky, since the last time they were here was back when Bucky went into the army. If it was bothering them though, they made no indication of such. The group was thankful for this because they could all have fun. Even the crowds were having fun seeing these large, built men and women trying to fit in the little rollercoaster carts.

The best part of Coney Island though was the photo booth that was set up near the food vendors. Y/n loved those things and excitedly tugged on Steve’s sleeve like a child when she saw it. “Can we do it, please?!” She begged. He tried to act like he didn’t want to do it, but Y/n knew he was just as excited as she was.

The photo booth was too small to fit anyone other than Steve and Y/n in it, but the others said they were fine with not being in the pictures. They climbed in the booth and Steve fed the machine a dollar, giving them no time to prepare the pictures. In the first one, Y/n slugged her arm around Steve’s neck and pulled him into a side hug while making whatever weird face she could. The second picture was of Y/n with her arm still around Steve, but she did bunny ears behind his head. The third picture was the funniest by far because when Y/n was removing her arm, she accidentally punched Steve in the face right when the camera clicked. They were laughing too hard to do anything for the last one.

When they saw the pictures though, Y/n knew instantly that the last one was her favorite. Her eyes were closed because she was laughing so hard, but Steve was staring at her with this look in his eyes, like he had never seen anything so beautiful. Y/n looked at the picture and saw love in Steve’s eyes. Of course, she didn’t say anything to Steve about it for fear of making things awkward. She was content, for the moment, with the fact that she knew what the look was about.

They stayed at the park until about six, when Y/n suggested they head back to the compound to get ready for the party. They packed into cars, drove to the Avengers compound, and went to their separate rooms. Y/n took a shower, making sure to wash her tattoo well, and dressed in a casual, but cute outfit. She knew she’d be doing a lot of dancing, plus no one dresses nicely for a fourth of July party. She put on a nice, loose navy top, denim shorts, and brown sandals. After dressing, she put a little bit of makeup and blow dried her hair. It was almost 7:30 by the time she was done.

When she was finished getting ready, she went out to the common room to finish setting up. Since they put up most of the decorations earlier, it was quick and easy. They just had to set up the food table and take the cake out to thaw. They also got coolers filled with alcohol ready.

Steve came out not too much later, dressed in a gray v-neck and dark blue jeans. The shirt was cut just right, so anyone looked at him would see a good bit of his defined chest, and his jeans hugged him in all the right places. His hair was still messy and wet from his shower, and Y/n could tell he touched up his beard a bit. Y/n had one thought when she saw him: snack. He was looking so delicious she just wanted to grab a fork and dig in.

“Is anyone home?” Steve waved his hand in front of Y/n’s face. Apparently, she had zoned out while she was thinking about all the things she’d do to Steve if she could.

“What?” She shook her head to bring her back to reality- and sanity.

“Do you need help?”

She glanced at the time on her phone. It was about ten minutes until eight, which is when people were supposed to show up. All the Avengers were there already, as was some none Avengers like Scott Lang, Maria Hill, and Sharon Carter. Y/n was wary about inviting Sharon since Steve had a weird history with her, but he said that they both agreed to just be friends. Y/n hoped things wouldn’t get awkward between the two tonight.

At eight o’clock sharp, people started to file into the large room. The walls vibrated from all the noise and the temperature in the room seemed to skyrocket. Never before had this many people occupied this room, and none of the Avengers really knew how to feel about it. It was exciting, but weird. Thankfully, the alcohol was flowing and for most of them, that was a good thing. Unfortunately, Steve and Bucky couldn’t get drunk, but that didn’t mean the others couldn’t have some fun.

Y/n was feeling a pretty good buzz by about nine o’clock. The sun had set completely by that point, and firework shows all around the city were starting. Most of the party guests had moved on to the deck- except for one. Y/n found Steve resting on the balcony outside of his room, which was away from everyone else.

“Why is the birthday boy not at his own party?” She asked when she found him. He jumped, not expecting someone to walk up behind him.

“Jesus, Y/n, you scared me.”

She apologized as she took the seat next to him. “What are you doing out here? I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Hiding from you.” He said jokingly. “No, I just needed a minute. Lots of people.”

“Oh I know right. I did not expect this many people to say yes.” She took a swig of her drink Sam made for her; he called it “the Capsicle” and boy was it strong. She handed the cup to Steve but he shook his head no. “Suit yourself.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a little bit just watching the fireworks explode all over the city. Steve was the first person to break the silence, “You know, I used to love fireworks. I used to act like they were a little birthday present for me.”

“Dude, you’re the human embodiment of America. These fireworks are for America, so in some ways, they are for you.”

“It’s not the same anymore. Maybe I’m just an old man, but they’re too loud nowadays…reminds me of bombs.”

“So why are you out here alone then?”

“I’m not alone now am I?”

“No one’s ever truly alone, especially you Steve. You have an army of people behind you that would do anything for you. That includes distracting you from things you don’t like. Why do you think I threw you this party?” Y/n said sincerely. She would genuinely do anything for him. She knew only a handful of others that she would do just about anything for. The great thing was she knew Steve would do the same for her in a heartbeat.

Steve looked at her, waiting for her answer. She rolled her eyes, “I knew you didn’t like fireworks, so I threw a huge party with all these people hoping it would distract you. But then you had to come out here and be all mope-y and brooding…defeats the purpose.”

Steve stared at her, similar to the way he looked at her during their photo booth shoot. She had the biggest heart of anyone he knew; she was so compassionate, empathetic, and loving. She always found the positives in life, even when the whole world around her was dark.

“Thank you for the party…actually for everything.” Steve said so quietly that the moment turned from friendly to intimate. Steve was being sincere and he needed Y/n to know that. “You’ve completely changed my life since Stark recruited you, and I know the others feel the same.”

Y/n was touched but found it hard to believe. “You’re just saying that.”

Steve angled his body so he was facing Y/n directly; Y/n mimicked his body language unconsciously. “No, I mean it. Y/n, you keep us human. You help to remind us, to remind me, that there is still good out there. Every moment, no matter how terrible, has something positive about it. Stark has said multiple times that Stark Industries and the Avengers would not be where they are today if it weren’t for the work you’re doing. And he’s not just talkin’ about work in the lab. You’ve changed every one of us in some way. Stark’s nicer, Bucky smiles more because of your dumb jokes, Wanda’s more sociable-”

Y/n cut him off, “And you? What could I possibly change about you?” She had to know since his opinion of here was the one she cared about most.

Steve stared into her eyes. He knew what he wanted to say, but didn’t know if now was the time. If Y/n has taught her anything though, it was that life is short. ‘Embrace life’s brevity’ was what she said early. She was right- Steve needed to embrace life’s brevity. He never knew if he was going to get another tomorrow, or even another tomorrow with her.  

The words ran off his tongue, like these were the words he was always meant to say, “You’ve helped me fall helplessly in love with you…not that that was hard to begin with.”

Y/n was dumbfounded. Out of all the ways she imagined tonight to go down, Steve admitting he was in love with her was not one of them.

“What?” She said in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Y/n, I’m in love with you, and I have been since I met you. I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to ruin things, and because things are just so great the way they are, but I can’t deny myself the simple pleasure of admitting my feelings to my best girl.”

Y/n blushed a hundred shades of red and felt tears sting her eyes. She couldn’t believe that he was being sincere. Captain America was in love with her- a nerd from upstate New York with a bad temper and the coordination of a baby deer. Steve Rogers, in all his 6’0” glory, was in love with her. It just didn’t make sense. Yes, she was completely head over heels for him, but for him to feel the same way felt foreign.

Y/n was sure she was dreaming, but even if it was a dream, she didn’t want to wake up anytime soon.  

Steve was taken aback by her silence. He was sure she felt the same way; all the signs were there. He was starting to grow embarrassed at the thought of him emptying his heart out to someone who didn’t feel the same way.

He opened his mouth to say something, but in a moment of pure courage (and maybe with some help from the alcohol), Y/n crossed the space between them. She took Steve’s face between her hands and brought his lips to hers, crashing them together in a kiss that knocked the wind from her lungs. On instinct, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her onto his lap while her hands found their way around his neck and into his hair.

The stolen kiss tasted like salt but felt sweet as chocolate. It was passionate, fervent, and delicious, but also delicate. It felt like worlds were colliding in the kiss. Neither one of them really wanted to pull away but had to once breathing became more difficult.

“I love you, too.” Y/n whispered lovingly after a few moments had passed. She cupped his face gently and stared longingly into his eyes. Oh, how she had waited for this moment. She pulled him into another, calmer kiss. She smiled a playful grin, “Come on, time to open your present.”

She climbed off his lap and pulled him up by his hand. “Oh really? What is it?”

“It’s less of a what, and more of a who.” She replied seductively. Steve was no longer fighting her grip and let her drag him into his bedroom.

“Happy birthday, Cap.” She whispered before they became consumed with lust, with each other’s bodies. They found their way between the silk sheets and for a moment, everything was exactly as it should be: pure and raw and full of love.

Tagged: @mickeyimagines

[astarryon]

Broken Like Me Part 2

Pairings: Bucky x reader

Warnings: Mentions of suicidal thoughts, anxiety, angst

A/N: Okay, back for round two! So this one is a little short, but it’s setting up some things to come. Once again, I would just like to reiterate that I’m not trying to glamorize any aspect of suicide, and if you struggle seriously with thoughts of these kind, please seek help! If you need anyone to talk to, I’m always here to listen.

Part 1

—

This situation was becoming a mess entirely too quickly for your tastes, and the fact that you couldn’t see an obvious way out of it really wasn’t helping your anxiety in the slightest.

Technically you had done this to yourself, but you could still blame Bucky for putting you in this situation in the first place. He’d been the one to leave his phone number on your counter, after all.

After leaving the coffee shop with him yesterday, you had silently begun to make a plan in your head for the best way to go about this unexpected and mildly uncomfortable situation.

Step one: allow him to accompany you home. It was evident that he wasn’t taking no for an answer here, as annoying and inconvenient as that was for you, but you guessed you could deal with it. And, anyway, he’d insisted you continue to wear his jacket, which was the thing you were the least upset about; yeah, the guilt of taking his jacket was sort of eating at the backmost part of your brain, but it quickly dissolved upon finding that you could actually feel your fingers while being outside now. Slightly selfish, sure, but you weren’t really going to complain.

Step Two: ditch him outside of your apartment building. Meeting Bucky had been one amazingly impressive fuck up on the part of the universe, so the sooner you got rid of him, the sooner you could get the world back in balance and go about your business, which would probably consist of another week of convincing yourself to… well. That wasn’t really something you liked to think about, nor was it something you were proud of, and at this point it didn’t matter. What did matter was convincing Bucky that you could make it back up to your apartment without his help or company.

Step Three: never come into contact with this guy again. It was nothing personal against him, of course. Bucky seemed like a perfectly nice man, behind that beautiful, somewhat haunted face of his. You just weren’t… you just couldn’t. Not now, not when you were on the verge. It wouldn’t have been fair to either of you.

“What are you thinking about?” Bucky’s voice had broken you from your reverie as the two of you had boarded the subway train heading further into Manhattan, taking seats beside one another. “Seems like there’s a lot going on in your head.”

“Yeah,” you told him, “that’s kind of like… the definition of basic neural function?”

“And that’s something you’re capable of?” he shot back with a half smile, not missing a beat.

That had caught you off guard, you had to admit, and it had even managed to startle a short laugh out of you. You’d been sure that you would’ve come off as bitchy, which had, in a way, been the desired effect; the ruder you were, the less inclined he would be to insist on staying with you the entire journey to your apartment. However, Bucky had bitched right back to you, which was a little… impressive?

He was merciful enough to remain mostly silent until the train reached your stop, and declined to speak completely as the two of you made the journey to your apartment building. The thought to try and outpace him had crossed your mind, but you had quickly written it off. You weren’t excessively short legged or anything, but Bucky’s stride could double yours effortlessly. There was really no point in even trying to lose him. The walk from the subway station hadn’t taken more than ten minutes anyway, and the real challenge had begun once you’d reached the front of your building.

“Thanks,” you had told him, “for walking me home. Um, I think I’ll be good from here. So. You don’t have to stay anymore.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Bucky told you, smirking slightly as he completely ignored your words and stepped into the building regardless. You were helpless to stop him and could only follow, and the next thing you knew he was marching over to the stairs, gesturing for you to lead the way to your floor.

Just like that, Bucky had kicked the shit out of step two.

Great.

Trying to ignore the rising sense of panic in your chest, you led him up the three flights of stairs to your floor and to your apartment, opening the door and stepping inside, turning to see him stop just at the threshold. “Are you coming in?” you had questioned.

“Is that okay?” he asked. The guy ramrods you into letting him walk you to your apartment and he suddenly becomes conscious of what you are and aren’t okay with?

“Just for a minute, I guess,” you conceded. Bucky had been kind enough to buy you hot chocolate and warm you up and walk you home, despite your adamant protesting to all of it. The least you could do was invite him inside and offer him a glass of water, even if he’d fucked up the plan you’d mentally concocted to get him to leave you alone.

He’d stepped inside, eyeing your living space, and you thanked your lucky stars you’d cleaned it the day before, in an attempt to brighten your otherwise melancholy mood. The place was a shoebox, and at times a messy one, but it was your messy shoebox and you liked it all the same.

“How’s your head?” Bucky had asked, leaning against the island of your kitchen. “You don’t feel woozy or light sensitive or anything, do you?”

“No,” you responded simply, hoping to make this visit as short as possible. As much as you wanted him to leave so you could just be by yourself and wallow in the fact that you couldn’t even manage to off yourself without somehow fucking it up, you had to admit that it was nice of him to even ask.

“Would you tell me if you did?”

“Probably not,” you admitted, not untruthfully.

Bucky eyed you in a way that made your skin crawl. Not that he was being creepy or anything, the guy was just unnecessarily intense. Like, he was nice and attractive and all, but he also sort of gave you the impression that he could bodyslam you to the ground unprovoked at any given point in time.

That wasn’t the thing that intimidated you, however. Bucky was big and lean and tall, and if you were trying to pick a fight with him in a bar then the guy would be your absolute worst nightmare. But, none of that was relevant to you, as you had no interest in getting clocked by a guy twice your size with a metal hand that looked… oddly familiar? No, the reason Bucky seemed to so easily unsettle you was because, as you’d noted in the coffee shop, his eyes seemed to look right through you. It felt like he was reading your soul, when he was watching you with that analytical gaze, and that made all of your senses scream with worry and protest. Did he know something, somehow? Was he aware of what he’d gotten in the way of you doing that morning? Had all of this been a hidden attempt at saving your life, even though Bucky wasn’t someone you’d ever met before? Obviously all of those were just paranoid scenarios crafted by your brain to make you three times as anxious as you needed to be, but you couldn’t help thinking there might’ve been truth to some of those.

After eyeing you for a bit and seeming to mull something over in his head, Bucky leaned over the island to grab a pen, then reached for a random piece of paper from the stack of mail you kept on your counter. “I’m leaving you my phone number,” he had announced.

“Please don’t,” you sighed, raising your eyes to the ceiling.

“I’m leaving it,” he said again, a hint of a laugh dancing behind his words. “Just in case you have an issue later, okay? Don’t feel pressured to call me or anything.”

“You telling me not to feel pressured to call you sort of makes me feel pressured to call you.”

His lips lifted in an amused smirk. “I mean a text would be fine too, so you have a few options there.” His following laugh had made it clear that he had been joking, but your social anxiety was already kicking in at the mere thought of having to contact Bucky, who you didn’t know at all. “I do have to get going, but in all seriousness. If you need anything, really. Send me a text.” A certain sort of humor shone in his blue eyes. “Even if you just wanna let me know that you didn’t fall into a coma overnight.” He headed back towards your door, the lift of his cheek as he walked away making it clear he was smiling once again. Pausing just before exiting, Bucky had looked back over his shoulder and said, “It was nice to meet you, y/n. Hope to see you around.”

Bucky had left after that, and you had taken eight million years to come down from the adrenaline high that spending the morning with a total stranger had afforded you. After that you had stripped your soaked clothing off, changed into some pajamas, and crawled into your bed, where you had remained for the rest of the day. Your morning time activities had required much more energy than your body had been willing to give, apparently.

You had thought about calling your best friend and inviting her over, just to have the company of someone who you loved and who you knew loved you, but you ultimately decided against it. The gravity of the decision you’d been about to make that morning wasn’t lost on you, and you felt sort of guilty. Not because you’d been on your way to ending things, but because you hadn’t given anyone a proper goodbye. You were afraid that if you got too emotional, your friends would know something was up, and then you’d really be in deep shit. The thought to write goodbye letters had crossed your mind once or twice, but each time you sat down to write them, the words escaped you, and anyway, who would you write them to? How did you decide who was important enough to leave a note? Or, rather, how did you decide who not to leave a note for? It wasn’t practical. If there was anyone who would somehow be unlucky enough to manage to feel guilty even in death, it would be you.

You’d pushed the thoughts from your head and exhaled, determined to let your mind go blank so you could have some semblance of calm.

It wasn’t until the next morning, when the ache of hunger in your stomach had bullied you from the comfort of your bed sheets in pursuit of food that you’d stumbled across your pile of wet clothing once more. Or, to be more accurate: your pile of wet clothing, and Bucky’s jacket.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you mumbled to yourself, stooping down to pick it up. You had gotten so comfortable in the damn thing that you had forgotten you were even wearing it. You wondered in the back of your mind if, between the leaving his jacket and the depositing of his phone number on your kitchen counter, this had all been Bucky’s intent all along. Then you had told yourself to stop being paranoid and self serving and to handle the situation like a normal functioning adult would.

That was how you ended up where you were now, phone in hand, Bucky’s number in the receiving field, and your thumbs hovering over the screen, waiting for you to decide what message to send.

Hey Bucky, it’s y/n from yesterday,

You rolled your eyes at yourself, quickly backspacing the whole thing. Obviously if you were including your name, he would know that the two of you had met yesterday.

Hey, it’s y/n. You said I could use this if I needed to, and I don’t need your help or anything. I think you left your jacket here, is all. Uhhh, not to say that you did it on purpose, it’s just—

No, that was even worse. You backspaced again.

Bucky, it’s me. You forgot your jacket, did you wanna come and—

Well you couldn’t just invite him back to your house, could you? You backspaced again, increasingly annoyed.

Hey fuckface, you forgot your stupid fucking jacket.

Exhaling in frustration, you dropped your phone onto your bed and palmed your face, wishing you could remember how to be normal. This wasn’t always a hard thing for you; you used to be very good at making new friends, greeting new people, and men had never made you as flustered as Bucky seemed to be able to. You rolled your eyes and decided to give up, figuring Bucky wouldn’t be missing his jacket too badly if he hadn’t remembered to ask for it before leaving. You picked up your phone, but it slipped out of your hand, your fingers failing in attempting to catch it. You huffed in annoyance, but suddenly went rigid when you heard a swish come from your phone, the noise which signaled a text had been sent.

Oh no. Oh please, for the sake of everything good and fucking just in the world, please, no.

You picked up your phone and unlocked it, reading the message you had just mistakenly sent to Bucky’s number.

Hey fuckface, you forgot your stupid fucking jacket.

You wanted to die. Right then and there, without any hesitation, you wanted to die even more seriously than you already did, because holy fuck, how were you supposed to come back from that?

Okay, no, there was no need to panic just yet. Maybe Bucky had been messing with you and had given you a fake number; maybe you’d just sent that text to some poor, random, unsuspecting person, and Bucky wouldn’t get it.

Your hopes were dashed when your phone buzzed with a text alert, a response to the text you’d just sent, and your anxiety was choking you as you read what the message contained.

And to think I bought you hot chocolate out of the kindness and goodness of my heart.

You weren’t even given enough time to appreciate the mercifully lighthearted and sarcastic tone of that message before receiving another one.

Glad to know you aren’t in a coma. How’s the head?

You blinked. Was he really just gonna let you off the hook? You’d probably owe him one if that were the case, as much as you hated to think it.

It’s fine. Do you want your jacket back?

Doesn’t sound like you’re appreciating it all that much, so I guess I’d better. I’m a little tied up at the house today, though. If you’re headed my way any time, would you mind swinging by?

Normally you would say no, just off of principle alone. Bucky was a stranger. You didn’t know him. You may have had a personal death wish, but the nice thing about that was that you got to be in control of how you died, and you certainly weren’t inclined to go out by being axe murdered. Still… he’d done you a favor yesterday. And, even though it still didn’t feel like it, his actions had been wonderfully kind. Dropping off his jacket was the least you could do… right?

If Bucky had kicked the shit out of step two of your plan, you were about to thoroughly and effectively murder the fuck out of step three.

Where exactly is your way?

—

“Mister Barnes?”

Bucky held up a hand, signaling for Sam to pause on the sparring session upon hearing the AI’s voice. He figured Sam could use a break anyway; Bucky had the luxury of improved stamina from the super soldier serum. Sam obviously didn’t, but would much rather be damned to hell than admit that he couldn’t keep up with Bucky for an extended period of time. “Hey Jarvis, what’s up?”

“There is a young woman present in the lobby of the tower asking for you. She has no security clearance, but insists that she was invited here to return something of yours?”

Bucky smirked in amusement; he knew you were coming, he just hadn’t thought you would be on your way so quickly. “Go ahead and send her up. I’ll be in to meet her on the main floor in just a minute.”

“Very well, sir.”

Sam gave Bucky a look, crossing his arms over his chest. “And since when do you talk to women outside of this tower, Mister No Game With The Ladies? Actually, scratch that; since when do you talk to anyone outside of this tower?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, stepping off the mat and grabbing his water bottle, chugging as he thought of an answer. The jab hadn’t necessarily been unfair. Bucky seldom spoke to people he didn’t know if he didn’t have to, especially on account of the frightened looks he often received from strangers. He got it; he was a big guy, he was intimidating to others, and when people recognized him as the Winter Soldier, most of them turned away in fear. The perks of being a well known ex assassin, he guessed.

You hadn’t looked at him like that, though, not with fear, or any kind of recognition. No, the only expression Bucky had initially gotten from you was one of short lived annoyance and… you had looked sad, if he remembered correctly. Your eyes had been constantly finding their way to the ground, you had been fidgety, shivering, and to put it simply, you had looked agonizingly miserable. He couldn’t remember ever seeing somebody who looked quite that sad. Shit, he wasn’t sure he’d ever looked that sad before.

“Just someone I ran into yesterday,” he explained to Sam simply. “Knocked the poor girl over and she hit her head. I figured the least I could do was buy her a hot chocolate to apologize.”

“Uh huh,” Sam replied, clearly unimpressed with Bucky’s statement. “And what’s she here to return? Your twenty first century virginity?”

Bucky choked, an embarrassed blush rising to his cheeks against his will. “Oh, fuck off, Sam,” he managed to get out. “I let her borrow a jacket. It was freezing yesterday and she didn’t have one.”

Sam held up his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. “ Hey, I’m just saying. You go from barely saying two words to anyone to inviting some random girl to the tower so she can return your jacket? That’s a pretty fast paced relationship where you’re concerned, man. Are Steve and I gonna have to go with you so you can ask for her father’s blessing?”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky presented Sam with his middle finger before beginning to walk away, not bothering to collect his things from the floor. Realistically, it wouldn’t take more than two minutes to pick up his jacket from you, and you’d been so skittish yesterday that he genuinely doubted you would allow the exchange to go on for much longer than that in the first place. “I’ll be back to kick your ass later, Wilson. Maybe if you keep practicing you’ll be able to win.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Sam called just as Bucky had reached the sparring room’s elevator. “Don’t fuck it up, Bucky, like you always do!”

Chuckling to himself, Bucky shook his head and pushed the button to close the elevator, a surprisingly pleasant giddiness at the prospect of seeing you in his chest and curiosity at what you would say to him once you saw him.

Something witty, he was sure.

—

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