#She wants to be very much 'I got this I don't need anything' but she's also like 'Go at me you can't break me but please try'

[wosospacegirl]

Hiya mate!, Can I have a request maybe a Leah x reader or Alexia x reader. Where the reader join the current girlfriend trend and video their reaction..... Thank you

Love all the fic you made love lots

Current girlfriend- Alexia Putellas / Leah Williamson

I couldn't choose between my captains, so I did a little thing for both of them - two separate blurbs in one.

Word count: 1.7

..

Alexia Putellas

You weren't really someone who posted a lot on social media. Not when you were a teen, and absolutely not now that you dated Barcelona's golden girl.

Alexia liked her privacy. She liked knowing there were things the fans, the media, and the world didn't know. Your relationship wasn't necessarily one of those things. She didn't keep you tucked away in some apartment, hidden from everyone and everything. 

No, she didn't mind being seen walking down the streets with you; she couldn't care less about the cameras in her face when a game ended, and you had come down to the pitch to hug her.

She just didn't like leaving much of a digital footprint, and you were the same way. You liked to keep some things just between the two of you.

But oh. When you saw that little TikTok prank, you couldn't help yourself. You wanted to try it, but you also didn't like the whole world seeing it…the camera would give away parts of your shared home, and that was something just for you two and the people closest to you.

So you decided to film it just for yourself. That way, you could still participate in the trend, keep yours and Alexia's privacy intact, but the prank would have to be tweaked a little.

You tucked the phone into one of the sofa pillows. Didn't have to hide it much, Alexia was terrible at noticing things she wasn't actively looking for.

You sat on the sofa and gave the camera one last look. Great, the frame was perfect.

"Ale, come here!"

Alexia was getting ready for training, focused, in her usual headspace, and of course, you had to mess with her. Just a little.

She said something back from upstairs that you couldn't make out, but then she appeared a few minutes later. And she looked so beautiful with her training jersey on, it made you wanna keep her to yourself.

"So I have this small party at work this Saturday, can you go with me?" You asked gently.

Alexia's face softened. "No lo sé, cariño, tengo que revisar mi agenda" [I don’t know, love, I have to check my schedule.]

You were very used to that response, you expected it even, so you just smiled back, leaning even further into the sofa, you were just getting comfortable.

"Well…as my current girlfriend–" you pretended to cough so it would give her some time to comprehend and let the word settle in. "--you need to be present! It's at 7 pm."

Alexia's smile faltered a bit, and you could see that she was caught between a mix of "did I hear that right?" with "that can't possibly be true."

"Qué?" [What?] She said, her eyebrows furrowing. She was so confused, it was funny and cute at the same time.

"Dinner, at 7 pm, amor," you repeated, but not the part she clearly wanted. "But if you can't go, it's alright…"

"No, no," she shook her head. "Current? Current girlfriend?"

Bingo

"Yes?"

"No? Why current? We've been dating for three years." She said, her voice a little impatient now, as if she was asking herself why she even needed to be saying that.

"Well, yeah, but that doesn't change anything, we are still CURRENTLY dating," you emphasised the word.

Alexia moved on her heels, she opened her mouth, and then closed it again. She looked at you, then looked at her training bag on the floor.

"No me gustó eso," she said. "Not current.. solo novia, okay?" [I don't like that/ just girlfriend, okay?]

The pout on her face was so extremely cute that you weren't able to keep your composure. You got up from the sofa and wrapped your arms around her.

For a few seconds, she stood there, arms crossed, but then she gave in.

"I don't like that word," she mumbled against your shoulder, her voice almost in a whine. "Current makes it sound temporary."

You couldn't help the smile spreading across your face as you held her tighter. "I know, baby. I'm sorry."

"We're not temporary," she pulled back just enough to look at you, that little pout still there. "Sí?"

"No, we're definitely not temporary." You said, kissing her whole face.

She studied your face for a moment. "Wait..." Her eyes narrowed. "You're smiling too much. Why are you…"

Her gaze moved around the room and landed on the phone peeking out from the pillow. Okay, maybe Alexia did have some hidden ability to find phones, actually. 

"Ay, por Dios,"  she groaned, but you caught the corner of her mouth twitching. "You filmed this?"

"Maybe."

"Qué tonta eres…" [You are such a dork] she said, fighting a smile. "Delete it."

"I was already planning to," you laughed, pulling her even closer. "It was just for me anyway. I wanted to see if I could make Barcelona's golden girl pout."

"I don't pout."

"Hmm." You kissed her forehead. "You definitely pout."

She huffed against your neck, but her arms tightened around you. "Next time you want to mess with me, just ask for attention like a normal person."

"Where's the fun in that?"

..

Leah Williamson

You were bored out of your mind. It was a rainy afternoon. It was grey, cold, and your girlfriend had some annoying thing she had to attend to. Meaning: it wasn't a great day at all.

Leah needed to be at some Lionesses' dinner, one to welcome the new girls who had just received their first senior call-up.

You weren't allowed to go since plus ones weren't permitted, so you decided last minute that you would go to some café and do something. You just didn't want to stay home alone.

You had a couple of uni assignments that needed to be done, some research you had to complete for your internship the other day, but the day was already depressing as it was…you didn't need to bring more of that into your already grey day. 

So drinking very expensive coffee and delicious pastries was the right answer. Plus, Leah felt bad that you couldn't go with her and had given you her card.

Your life had been so uneventful lately. With Leah's tight schedule and your responsibilities, you two couldn't go out much or spend the amount of time together that you would like. So you thought, why not make today a little different?

You weren't an influencer, per se, but you had a fair share of followers on Instagram, so why not do a little Instagram Live while you got ready for your outing and Leah got ready for hers? It was June–Pride month–and nothing better to celebrate it than showing off your very hot, very English Captain, Champions-winner girlfriend.

You had your dress on already, and Leah was doing her hair on the other side of the room. She looked pretty. She was wearing mom jeans, a plain white shirt, and a black leather jacket on top of that, you knew your followers would thank you for showing Leah and her outfit.

Again, very Pride Month. Very much gay.

You had obviously asked Leah if it was okay for her to show up in the live stream. She said yes (she always did whenever you asked her to film something with you), so you propped your phone on top of your makeup organiser and pressed play.

In a few minutes, you had a couple of hundred people watching you, to say the least. You began talking about random stuff, nothing really important, just about your day and your routine. 

Leah would casually walk behind you, stopping just long enough to wrap her arms around you and kiss your head before disappearing again, looking for her shoes or bag.

The people watching the live went crazy whenever Leah showed up. It was honestly funny, the amount of fire emojis running up and down on your screen.

Then, a comment popped up asking you to do a prank on Leah, the "Current Girlfriend" prank. The comment quickly disappeared among a hundred others, but it was enough time for you to read it and decide that you were going to do it.

"Leah," you said, looking at her while putting your lipstick on. "Come stand with me for a bit."

Leah was in a very good mood, so she did it quickly and without complaining. She stood by your side and wrapped one arm around your waist, bringing you closer. She kissed the top of your head while looking at the camera.

You decided that was the perfect moment.

"Well, my current girlfriend and I look so fine today and—"

"Current?" Leah interrupted, looking down at you, using the same voice she used when she was surprised. "Okay, wow!"

"What?" you asked, trying to sound clueless, which you were very good at.

"Current girlfriend?" Leah lifted her eyebrows cockily, as if she couldn't believe what was happening. "Who are you talking about? Not me, I'm sure."

"Of course I'm talking about you!" you said, looking at the phone, and then back at her. "Aren't you my current girlfriend?"

She laughed. Really laughed as you were trying to keep an emotionless face.

"I don't understand you," you said. "What's so funny?"

"You," Leah said. "You are funny, silly even, saying things like 'current girlfriend' as if you want to have a different girlfriend in the future."

"I never said that!" You smiled at her before pecking her lips, leaving your lipstick stain on her mouth. "You're being dramatic."

"Me? Dramatic?" Leah asked, pointing at herself, "You're messing with me, aren't you? That can't be possible."

You turned back to your mirror, the Instagram Live still going strong. You picked up some blush, applying it while watching Leah through the reflection.

Leah was so annoyingly confident that it was nearly impossible to pull these types of pranks on her. She didn't get annoyed or mad, she would actually laugh about how ridiculous it all sounded.

"Well…" She watched you through the mirror, making eye contact and putting two fingers in front of her mouth with that knowing look. She knew exactly how much you liked that gesture. "Maybe I should start looking for a future and steady girlfriend since this one–"

Now it was your turn to interrupt her. You rolled your eyes dramatically.

"Don't even finish that sentence," you warned, pointing the blush brush in her direction. "It was all a prank, okay?"

"Oh yeah?" she said, turning to face the phone screen with that smirk of hers. "I didn't even notice, baby." She winked at the camera. "Your girl's not as slick as she thinks she is."

..

a/n: hope you guys liked it!!

Tag list: @footy-lover264, @fortifyde, @naomigirmadefender, @neutraiise, @milkveed, @browercc, @ace-of-baked, @ikzzzya, @sky-the-trans-guy00, @knight-16, @wosohk04, @evaissleepy13, @papimapileon, @unpoppablebubbles @whiskeredshrimp-blog

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

I am so glad about your booktube post. Their entitled, condescending and frankly bigoted behavior is something I am frustrated but utterly powerless about.

I am particularly crept out by just how many of them use social justice language to both justify their hatred for everything and everybody out of the norm and make it harder to spot.

The most blatant and most disturbing example I saw for this is someone named crowcaller. If you don't look at the bigger picture and don't know these books it seems like she criticizes sexist, ableist and queerphobic tropes in obscure bad YA books from 2000-2010. Very necessary work, and without context her criticism seem reasonable and rooted in real life problems.

Then she did that with books I had actually read. And oh by did she not just interpret it in the most bad faith possible and completely ignored the Zeitgeist and conventions and history of the genre, she also just. Did not pick up anything but the most obvious plot beats, character motivations and messages, and then got condescending about the book being too shallow and openly cheered on the downfall of this series.

She also constantly presents herself as this fighter for minorities rights, especially disabled peoples rights, but then I caught her talking about a mental health issue she never had and has no experience with as if she 100% knew how this works and how this needs to be portrayed. I know this issue, and what she claims is only something a small part of the community feels. However, it is what aligns with neurotypicals automatic horror about this, so these opinions are the only ones that spread.

After that, everything fell into place. How she writes "I've seen it all" about tumblr, quirkily saying how good she knows this site without being one of *those* tumblr users. How she made her entire career out of mocking books targeted at girls. How she doesn't acknowledge the things that are progressive about these books at all. How she never outright says how teen girls are so silly and stupid and inferior for liking these books, and how [insert ableist slur] people who hyperfixate on uncool things like these are, but it resonates in every video she does.

I am queer and autistic too, and as I was still too naive to spot it, I was so glad that someone like me for once managed to create a platform and be heard. Turns out she could only do that, because unlike me and most other queer autistic people, she is confident to the point of not being able to see just how unqualified she is, and even more, she only says exactly what neurotypicals (and the more assimilated queer autistic people) want to hear.

And I get it, it feels good to think you are superior to those pathetic boy obsessed girls. Which probably makes this such an effective tactic.

I hate how platforms only ever push people like this. And I hate that people like this are able to shape the publics opinion when they have the least skills for that.

I hate how they get away with hiding their loathing behind feminism, or anti-ableism, or queer advocacy while mocking everybody in these groups who doesn't manage to conform.

Now, crowcaller is far from the only Booktuber who uses these tactics. But it struck me particularly much because she as an queer autistic person really should know better than behaving like this. Peak Pick-Me. And also... using your minority identities and progressive beliefs to hide your bigotry behind is just so gross.

And I hate just how little people seem to pick that up.

I'm gonna be real dude I think my nitpicks of various videos and whatever you've got going on specifically with this crowcaller person are like. maybe totally different issues.

I'd also like to point out that re: your first sentence, referring to the entirety of booktube as "entitled, condescending and frankly bigoted" as if every person posting about books on youtube is sone sort of hive mind is exactly the kind of unsubstantiated overgeneralization that I have been dogging on various booktubers for making. I am by no means trying to expose all of booktube as corrupt or innately bad, namely because that's impossible to do for hundreds if not thousands of unaffiliated creatives with wholly different styles and interests.

[prettydaisygirl]

Love love love your newest rafe zombie au :) I’m hoping that maybe you could write something maybe where rafe gets injured or sick and reader has to be the strong one out of the both of them. Maybe she gets stronger and more adjusted to the End. Idk if that makes any sense lol but thank u!!!

Hi nonnie! Thank you so much for requesting!! I love love love the Rafe zombie au, it is my favorite thing to write ever. I don't know if I necessarily made reader ‘more accustomed’ to the end, but your request set off a whole chain of events for this series so that's exciting haha. Hope you enjoy <3

Us and Them (zombie au) with Rafe Cameron x fem!reader who meets someone unexpected ✿ 2.9k words

cw: zombie apocalypse, fem!reader, Rafe breaks his leg and other various injuries (described in detail), mentions of dry heaving/throwing up, various weapons, reader is overwhelmed, Rafe is mean, established relationship (?), this is my first time ever writing for any of the pogues so please be nice, cliffhanger

rafe cameron masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

You’ve seen a lot of horrifying, fucked-up shit since the beginning of the End. You’ve been attacked by humans both alive and undead, you’ve had to fight, you’ve had to kill. You’ve watched Rafe murder strangers with his bare hands. 

Watching Rafe fall through the roof of a crumbling building is the scariest thing you’ve seen yet.

After your last experience in the city, you have become very weary of walking through the streets. Even a smaller town, like the one you’re in now, is enough to leave you feeling anxious. You’d suggested you hop rooftops, and Rafe had eventually agreed. 

You wish you could take it back.

“Rafe!” Your voice is a desperate gasp as he vanishes through the roof and into the building below. You move to follow after him, but hesitate, unsure of whether or not any part of the roof will be safe. Eventually you decide to jump after him, and you can already hear him screaming, his curses echoing through the building and into the streets. Your instincts want you to scream at him to shut up, but you caused this and he’s probably hurt really bad, so you think you’re the one who needs to shut up.

“Rafe?” You call out for him, managing to climb most of the way down safely. You slide a bit but catch yourself.

“Fuck,” You’ve never heard him sound like that before. It makes your soul ache, and you wish you didn’t have to find him, didn’t have to see this. You wish this hadn’t happened but it did and now you have to face it. “Get the fuck over here and help me!” 

You find him, leg trapped under a piece of rubble. He’s got a nasty cut on his forehead that has bled down his face, and you’re sure it will scar. His face, aside from the blood, is pale and full of more anger than you’ve ever seen. At least you think it’s anger. 

You feel like everything is moving in slow motion, like none of this is real. Like you’re going to blink and wake up back in Rafe’s arms this morning and it will all be a bad dream. 

Except it isn’t. 

“Help me! Are you fucking serious?” Your body moves instantly, thrust out of uncertainty and sent into panic by his tone. You have to use your entire body weight to lift the debris from Rafe’s leg, and as soon as you do, you’re heaving.

There’s hardly anything in your stomach, but there’s enough to come up. Rafe’s leg is clearly broken, parts sticking out at angles they definitely aren’t supposed to. You can’t really look at it, bent over where you're throwing up your mediocre breakfast. Rafe is cursing and making all kinds of noises behind you but you can’t hear him over the ringing in your ears. Everything is too much.

When you’re finally able to catch your breath, you wipe at your face and turn back to Rafe. “I’m sorry,” You try to tell him through your gasps as you approach but you have no idea what to do and your brain doesn’t want to help you at all. “I’m sorry, Rafe. Please, I’m really sorry.”

“Shut the fuck up and help me up!” You don’t even have the willpower to flinch, you’re over to him instantly. He hisses and groans the entire time you’re helping him up, and you have to hold more of his weight than you really can. You manage to help him to the wall and he slides down. You look over him frantically, though his only truly worrisome injury is his leg. You pat the cut on his forehead until it dries up and he doesn’t talk to you, doesn't even look at you. You just keep muttering ‘i’m sorry’ over and over again. 

Somehow the two of you make it back to the small barn you’ve been staying in. Kansas is flat and there aren’t many buildings. Everything is spread far apart, which of course makes this situation even worse. You manage to find a set of crutches, just by sheer luck. It’s also just sheer fucking luck that the two of you don’t run into any zombies on your way back. Rafe still doesn’t talk to you other than absolutely necessary, and you stew in your own guilt and shame. You didn’t know this would happen, you couldn’t have known, and yet you still feel entirely responsible. 

He tells you what you need to do. Over and over again. You listen because you have to, you feel so guilty you want to die. Your stomach churns with each breath and you worry Rafe might hate you forever. “I’m sorry.” You say again. He doesn’t say anything, instead continuing his seething instructions. 

“I’m going to need antibiotics.” He starts again. He’s already said this twice, but he doesn’t trust that you’ll remember if he doesn’t drill it into you. Normally, you’d be offended. Right now, you think he doesn’t need to repeat himself. You’ve been dialed into every word since he started talking, trying to cope and repair this situation in any possible way that you can. “And as many fuckin’ painkillers as you can find. Some wooden boards, or somethin’ else hard n’ flat that I can use as a splint. And somethin’ to wrap it with. Hey, are you fuckin’ listening?” He runs a hand through his hair and flinches when his palm brushes the cut on his forehead. The skin is raw and irritated, and the wound is still open, just no longer bleeding.

“Yes,” You stress the word as much as you can, eyes glossy as you nod quickly. “I am. I’m listening, I promise.” 

“Good.” Rafe’s face contorts as he shifts, and you can see the sweat that’s building up along his hairline. Honestly, you’re surprised he’s even being this nice. He could be screaming in your face and you think you’d deserve that. Maybe things aren’t completely shattered between you. “If you fuckin’ die and leave me here to die too, I’m going to haunt your ass.”

So, despite the fact that you’re absolutely petrified, you find yourself venturing back into the city alone. You don’t like being alone. Every time you’re without Rafe, something bad happens. That feeling seems to grow, turning into dread that soaks into your skin just like the sun’s rays, keeping you in a state of frantic worry as you creep from building to building. You hide as best as you can, staying low to the ground. You don’t trust the rooftops now, obviously. You doubt you’ll ever trust a rooftop again. 

It takes you an hour to find a pharmacy. It’s a small one, seemingly local. You worry they might not have what you need but you don’t have the luxury to be picky about where to search. If you can’t find the medicines Rafe asked for here, then you’ll find somewhere else. You have to.

You have Rafe’s gun in a holster strapped to your thigh. The metal feels heavy against your skin. You’re grateful that Rafe trusted you enough (or worried enough) to give you his only real weapon, but the idea of having to use it makes you sick. You try not to think about it. 

You move as quietly as you can, stepping over rubble and decay as you approach the pharmacy. The door squeaks as you push it open and you cringe. At least it opened, you think. You can only hope there’s nothing unsavory inside. 

Each step feels like it echoes against the tile of the pharmacy. There are cracks and stains all over, this place has been raided at least once already. You expected that but it still makes your heart sink. This town is big enough to give you anxiety, but not likely big enough to have two pharmacies. 

You climb over the counter into the back where the medication is kept. There are bottles, which gives you some relief. You whisper the list again and again. ‘Antibiotics, painkillers, something for a splint, something to wrap, and anything else you can find.’

The bottles clatter lightly as you search through them. You aren’t sure what every medication does, but there are small info sheets with them that seem somewhat helpful. You’re going to grab anything and everything you think might help Rafe. 

“Amoxicillin?” You read the label, trying to focus through the panic and the nerves. You feel like someone is watching you and it’s making you paranoid. “Doxycycline? Are these right?”

“Probably, if you’re trying to prevent an infection.” The voice of a man speaks up far closer than it should be and saying you jump would be an understatement. Your entire body flinches away from him and you land on the floor, everything around you flying up and landing on the ground next to you with various thuds and bangs. You try to grab the gun to point it at him but you’re truly left floundering. Part of you knows that if he was going to kill you, he would have done it already, but your fight or flight response doesn’t know that.

The blonde man looks unimpressed, his eyebrows raised and his mouth in a smirk while his tongue licks over his teeth. “Impressive.”

He reaches down to start picking up bottles and you scramble, curling in on yourself and sitting up, grabbing the pills from his hand and stuffing them in your bag. He raises his hands defensively, but it’s slow, a bit patronizing. “Hey, princess, you don’t hafta get all riled up.” he chuckles and sends you a wink. “But I mean, I can rile ya up more if you want me to.”

You start grabbing pill bottles at random from the floor and shoving them in your bag before zipping it up once it’s full. You glare at him suspiciously, holding a hand out in front of you like that somehow might help if he decides to attack you. 

“Who the hell are you?” You ask him, slowly pushing yourself up off the floor and to your feet. He watches you with a tilt to his head and a dimple on his cheek from his smile. He thinks you’re stupid or something, you don’t know. Why hasn’t he killed you yet?

He sizes you up, but it’s playful, his eyes scanning over your figure until he’s chuckling and shaking his head. You hate that, and you hate even more that you find he’s justified in laughing at you. “I don’t think I should tell you that.”

“Well, I think you should.” You counter quickly. “Because I have a gun.”

Now he really laughs, a full one deep in his chest. His hands are on his hips and you find your gut really churning with embarrassment. “Oh, princess… we both know you don’t know how’ta use that thing.”

“Well?” You ask him, returning to your original question while you continue to look through the bottles despite your bag being full. You’ll stuff your pockets too, if you can. 

He groans and sighs, but once again he seems to be messing with you. You don’t understand, is he really not going to kill you? 

“The name’s JJ.” He says finally, holding out a hand for you to shake. You eye it wearily but he doesn’t let up, the same teasing smile on his lips as he waits. The two of you stand still longer than you should but eventually you give in and shake his hand. He speaks again, running a hand through his unruly hair. It’s somehow worse than Rafe’s and you don’t understand how that’s possible. “What are you lookin’ for anyway?”

“Antibiotics, painkillers, something hard for a splint, a wrap, and whatever else.” You list everything off like it’s your lifeline, because right now, it is. A sharp pang of guilt runs through you as you think of Rafe back in the barn. If he knew you were talking to a strange man, he’d be furious. You hope not to give him a reason to be.

“Well, the two ya grabbed before were antibiotics.” You don’t question how he knows the pills by name. “For painkillers…” He grabs onto the shelf in front of him and bends down, looking at the various pill bottles that are scattered between the two of you. “Aha!” He pulls one up, shakes it, and hands it to you. “Oxy. Perfect for… whatever ya might need it for.”

“Thanks.” You say slowly, but you snatch the bottle from him quickly. You’ve shaken his hand and you’re pretty sure he won’t kill you, but it isn’t wrong to be suspicious. “Why are you helping me?”

“Why not?” He asks with a shrug and a wink, “Maybe I’m just a nice guy.”

“There’s no such thing anymore.” You say, and you take a step back. The gun on your thigh feels heavy. Part of you wishes you hadn’t brought it at all. You don’t think about it, instead deciding to repeat your question. “Why are you helping me?”

He tilts his head back as he sighs again, the lightest groan at the end of it. His Adam's apple bobs and then he rolls his shoulders a few times. “Look. My group is lookin' for somethin’ and I’m trying to find someone who might know where it is. No offense, you don’t look like you know where you’re goin’.”

He says no offense, but you definitely take offense. You cross your arms in front of you and narrow your eyes just a bit. “Okay, and? That doesn’t explain why you’re helping me.”

He shrugs, lifting his hands before slapping them against his legs. Then he scoffs, messing up his hair again, a bit more frantic this time. “I told you! I’m not a bad guy! I saw you come in here, but I realized you aren’t a local. You looked confused about medications, I don’t know!”

His explanation seems genuine enough. He crosses his arms in front of him to match your posture. You think about his words. He and his group are here looking for something, that’s what he said. Rafe lead you here because he is looking for something too, right? 

You straighten up your shoulders and let your arms drop to your side. “Tell me what you’re looking for and I’ll tell you if I know anything.”

“Yeah, right.” He scoffs, but seems to realize that you’re serious. “Hey, I’m not tellin’ you shit.”

“You don’t have to give details, right?” You ask, leaning against one of the pharmacy shelves. JJ bites his lip, his jaw tightening. “You can say something basic and, if I know anything, I should know what you’re talking about.”

You see the moment he gives in. His shoulders slump just a bit and it seems like he figures he has nothing to lose. “Alright, fine. There’s a girl in my group, she says her father has a house around here that would be… well equipped during something like this. But it’s well hidden, too well hidden.”

A house. Didn’t Rafe say you were heading to Kansas to find a family home of his? He hadn’t said anything about its assets or it being 'well-equipped' but…

“Your friend, the girl in your group. What’s her name?” You ask, and JJ must see something on your face because he freezes. “You said it’s her dad’s house? What’s her name?”

“Sarah.” JJ responds, and then blinks and speaks again, “Sarah Cameron.”

“No fucking way.” You say, and you brighten. “She’s Rafe Cameron’s sister, right?” This recognition does not make JJ brighten. If anything, his face seems to harden, his eyes growing more suspicious of you than you’ve seen them yet. Your smile falters, unsure of what happened. “What?”

“You know Rafe Cameron?” The way JJ’s mouth spits your boyfriend’s name almost has you flinching. You’re offended, just because of who you are. You know Rafe’s done some horrible things, but so has everyone. It’s the apocalypse. 

“Rafe Cameron is my boyfriend.” You say, and you think maybe adding more information will clear things up. Maybe he’s only heard things from Rafe’s sister, you know he had a strained relationship with his family. “He’s- He’s the one I’m getting the antibiotics for. He said his family has a house out here, that’s where we’re heading. Maybe we can-” 

You start to say ‘maybe we can help each other find it’ but JJ is already backing away, shaking his head and looking like you’ve told him doomsday is coming. You want to tell him it’s already happened, and that there’s nothing Rafe can do to hurt him or anyone, not right now, but he waves you off, looking around nervously. 

“Nah, nah- that’s… I have to go.” He doesn’t even bother giving you an explanation, fleeing the pharmacy in the blink of an eye, as silently as he’d follow you in before. 

You can’t help but wonder if you’ve somehow fucked things up even worse than they already are.

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl

[god-of-your-basement]

Shen brothers AU, but Shen Jiu had no idea he had a younger brother until Shen Yuan showed up on the selection (even a little longer).

Shen Jiu definitely doesn't know who this child is and has no connection with him, but the child is too similar to him to even question their relationship.

Of course he takes the child to his peak. Leaving him alone is too risky, he can't let someone who can be connected to him run around alone and do whatever he wants. He also wants to know where this kid came from. It's highly unlikely that this is a coincidence. He needs to find out what this is all about.

Theories are quickly emerging that Shen Yuan is Shen Jiu's secret child. It's obvious to everyone that a man who visits brothels so often has finally had a child. Of course, Shen Yuan's time on Qing Jing is not the easiest.

One day, Shen Jiu takes some younger disciples on a mission to a town that turns out to be near Shen Yuan's family home, where they have the opportunity to meet his parents. And it turns out that Shen Yuan is not Shen Jiu's child but his brother.

Shen Yuan's parents are an elderly couple around 55 years old. The couple is not very wealthy and Shen Yuan is their beloved child that they thought they would never have because of her age.

Shen Yuan believed he was one child, his parents never told him they had any other children. Honestly, most of the time he believed that if they were related, it was only on a distant level and their close resemblance was a coincidence. But their reaction when they see Shen Jiu is quite obvious.

It turns out that when the woman was 17, she gave birth to a son, but times were hard back then and they were never very rich, so they decided to sell him. It wasn't an easy decision for them, and now seeing their child back they are very happy, especially seeing the successes he has achieved. They want to renew their relationship with him, but there is a problem. Shen Jiu does not want.

Why would he want to? Why should he forgive the people who made him suffer so much? They got rid of him when things got tough, and now that things are better they want him back? Shen Jiu wants nothing to do with them and makes it very clear. To him, they are nobody and that will never change.

But they don't take it well. They don't think they did anything wrong, they even say it served him well because he would never have reached this status if they had kept him.

I also think it goes without saying that Shen Yuan's situation has only got worse after that.

(I checked it three times and found mistakes every time but I want to finally post it and go to sleep so please ignore them ♡)

[drhedicalhalpractice]

Okay fuck I've got more to say on the subject of how Wilson thinks House feels about him instead of just tag ranting (though I'll have to repeat some of that tag ranting) because holy shit my dudes.

As a basic premise, from the very start of the show, it is very clear to us the viewer that House has this best friend who is very, very important to him. That's just never a secret – House, who actively pushes everyone away, doesn't want to interact with patients, pretends he doesn't care about people, never tries to hide that he cares about Wilson. This is both towards Wilson himself and to other people – sure, maybe he doesn't come right out and say it, but it's so very clear in so many things he does and says.

Here's some scenes (very much from memory and out of chronological order, please bear with me) that highlight this very clearly:

After Vogler gets Wilson kicked off the board and Wilson accuses House of not thinking that their friendship (or Wilson's job) matters enough to him to give that speech. House started out making light of the situation, kind of twisting it into a joke, refusing to take accountability etc. but the moment Wilson says that, he immediately sobers and just straight up admits that no, actually, they do matter ° I remember being very surprised by this because this is only in S1 and I didn't expect House to be this sincere with Wilson ° Hell, the pilot had someone asking Wilson if House cared about him and Wilson was like "I don't know", so I took that as an indicator that House doesn't show he cares. But as it turns out, this is very much a Wilson problem, not a House problem!

The "You DOSED me!" conversation. 11/10 one of the most hilarious scenes in the show, but also! House is understandably upset that his best friend is depressed and he didn't know about it, but Wilson straight up tells him to stop acting hurt because he doesn't actually care. This is wild to me because everything in the way House talks suggest that he isn't just mad because he missed a puzzle piece, he genuinely wanted Wilson to tell him about this, but Wilson didn't trust him with it

Living together in Amber's apartment post-Mayfield. Wilson thinks he can't talk to House about his grief after Amber's death and prefers to talk to her instead of talking to House. Even when House directly offers/asks him to talk to him instead, Wilson outright rejects him and tells him that talking to him doesn't make him feel better but talking to her does. ° Amber is dead, she will not reply to him, yet Wilson considers this more of a comfort than anything House would offer him. Except, House is carrying so much guilt about Amber's death, I genuinely feel like he would've made an effort to be supportive in this instance ° In fact, at the start of S5 before Wilson leaves, House even says, "I know you're not [okay], but maybe I can help." and Wilson doesn't even acknowledge it (instead just proceeds to tell him that he should have been alone on that bus, good lord)

Two instances I clearly remember where they're arguing about things House genuinely seems insecure about in their friendship: ° When Wilson moves out of Grace's place and back into a hotel because he doesn't think it's a good idea to move back in with House, House asks him if they're okay despite all of it. His expression in that scene actually takes me out because he looks so sincere and the insecurity behind it is very badly hidden ° "Does it bother you that we don't have a social contract?" The fact that House feels the need to ask this and make sure that Wilson is fine with their dynamic speaks volumes imo

Honestly the entirety of the episode Wilson (S6E10). "If you die, I'm alone." All the trying to push Wilson to grow a spine and not let Tucker take advantage of him. Sitting by his bedside both as he wakes up from surgery and then again while he's recovering from the surgery. In fairness though, Wilson doesn't outright deny that House cares about him in this one.

During the roadtrip to House's dad's funeral. "And there's the foundation of our entire friendship. If you hadn't been bored one weekend, it wouldn't even exist." – "Hey, there were 3000 people at that convention. You're the one I thought wasn't boring." imagine being told that out of 3000 people there, the man who notoriously does not care about anything that doesn't intrigue him, picked you specifically to be his friend and has been obsessed with you ever since, and somehow rewriting that into a bad thing??? The way he says the "if you hadn't been bored" part sounds accusatory and kind of bitter, when that's just how friendships get formed sometimes? Wilson, what the hell are you on

The entirety of S8 following Wilson's cancer diagnosis is basically one huge declaration of love from House. But to be fair, I think by this point, even Wilson realizes that (...mostly, even though he still somehow interprets it as a "House needs me so he doesn't want to lose me" kind of thing instead of just fucking accepting that maybe the man just loves* him and that's why he doesn't want to lose him, god) *love being used non-romantically here, even without Hilson goggles on, they just undeniably love each other, however you choose to interpret it

All of this just makes me wonder what the hell Wilson's got wrong with him that leave him so completely and utterly unable to fathom that House could possibly care about him, despite the fact that House very explicitly shows him over and over. Wilson is usually so good at reading House and figuring him out, just not when it comes to himself, apparently. Dude has some serious issues and I am so very intrigued by it <3

[miss-artimis-has-thoughts]

This Idea continues to live in my head so have some more.

-

Bruce was frustrated and concerned. Dick had called for a code three emergency family meeting, civilian issues not to do with hiding their night time activities. Which could mean anything from one of his children had a crush to someone had a terminal illness. Dick had given no additional information as to what type of emergency it was or who it involved. Pretty much the only guarantee was that the world was not ending. By the time Bruce got to the cave Tim and Jason were the only ones missing. Dick was typing away at a computer screen hidden from view. He looked up as he heard Bruce approach. As soon as Bruce saw Dick’s face he felt his frustration and concern quickly melt into worry bordering on panic. Dick looked absolutely devastated. He suddenly looked so much like that lost little boy Bruce had first met at the circus that night so many years ago.

As Bruce opened his mouth to start demanding answers Dick held up his hand to stop him. “We are waiting for everyone to be here,” He sounded just as bad as he looked. He had cried. Something was very wrong. “We're just waiting on Jason.” The moment he processed that sentence Bruce’s stomach dropped. “What about Tim? Where is he?” Dick looked away, “That's why we're here. There's something we need to talk about before we confront him.”

"Confront" that word held so many implications behind it. It said secrets and lies. It said arguments that lead to rage or resolution. It said something is very, very wrong.

Bruce looked around at his other children and wondered what this could possibly be. He didn't have to ponder long as Jason soon pulled in to the cave. As soon as Jason had settled into the group Dick started talking and Bruce quickly realized that he was wrong, because his world certainly felt like it was ending at the reality that he had a son in law. Grandkids. He was a grandfather and he had no idea. He looked up at the faces of these family members he didn't know existed and wondered how this had happened.

-

Tim felt nervous. He had always felt awkward asking for things, the looming fear of rejection. Leftover instincts from his parents' expectations. But he also knew better than to feel that way with Danny. He knew that if Danny said no to him it wasn't a rejection of him as a person. He completely understood all of Danny's reasons to not want to go to the family day, even beyond the ones he had explained to Diana. That knowledge didn't make it any easier. “Hey, love,” He asked as he knocked on the doorframe of Danny's office “got a second?” Danny looked up from his blueprints and smiled that smile that melted every tension in his body. “For you? Always.” Tim laughed as he walked over and sat on the edge of the desk. “I was talking with Diana today and she reminded me that the Justice League's annual family day is in a couple of months. She asked if I was going to bring you or the twins or both. I told her I wasn't sure but I would talk to you.” Danny looked down. His brows furrowing the way they did when he was thinking to hard about something. Tim reacted like he always did to get Danny out of his own head and poked him right where the skin creased between his eyebrows. He blinked in that same confused way he does every time I knock him out of his thoughts and looked up at me.

“We actually might be able to go this year,” he said. “I mean it will depend on how quickly I get it built because I want to test it for at least a month before we decide to rely on it, especially in space. Not that I don't trust the leagues tech but if the zetas break and were so far from home and…I'm rambling, aren't I. Sorry.” Tim chuckled at his husband's blush. “What were you talking about building?” he asked.

Danny showed him a blueprint. It was clearly modeled after devices for diabetes. He explained that it would pull natural ectoplasm from the air and filter it for the twins. No injections needed. It would make it so they could live normally and travel more than an hour from one of the family labs. Tim leaned in to kiss his husband “Danny this is amazing!”

A thought that's been bouncing in my head this post but dead tired.

-

As Dick was walking back to the zeta tubes in the watch tower after meeting with Wally, he did not expect his entire world view to be flipped on its head. It started with hearing the voice of one of his brothers and deciding to mess with him. Tim was in one of the lounge rooms talking with Diana, which gave Dick the perfect opportunity to pull him into the ongoing sibling prank war that he had somehow been avoiding. He waited outside the door, listening for the right moment when he heard the question.

"The league's family day is coming up. Will your husband and the twins be attending?" Dicks first thought was that he must have missed a third person in the room before he heard his brother response. "I don't know, the twins would love it, but Phantom is still wary about taking them too far from home in case they have a destabilization episode or a development in their powers."

Dick knew that the conversation continued, but he had stopped paying attention. Tim was married. He had kids. Did anyone know? Obviously, Wonder Woman did, but did anyone in the family? He needed to figure this out. He sent a message calling for a family meeting sans Tim to figure out what was happening

-

Tim had been stressed the past few days. He didn't say anything, but Danny could tell. So, when the twins went down for their nap, he made his husband a nice cup of tea, decaffeinated because a stressed Tim was a Tim that had been awake far too long. As he gave his husband the cup, he asked what was wrong. "The bats have been acting weird the last couple of days. It's made patrol really awkward. But I'm pretty sure it's a family thing, so it feels wrong to ask." Danny laughed "Ah the age-old dilemma of being the only nonfamily member working at a family business. Happens all the time in small towns like Amity. What do you think you'll do?" Tim sighed "Normally I would just ask Oracle, but she's being weird too. And I can't just ignore it because it's throwing us all off during patrol and that dangerous. I guess I'll just have to call a meeting to address it."

Danny hugged his husband, "I'm sorry, work is stressful, Starlight. You're not supposed to patrol tonight, right? How about you call in at your day job tomorrow and we have some family time? I've been researching this nature trail about half an hour from my parents' house. It's got some great outlooks that I think you would love to get pictures from. We could go through the zone and be at my parents' first thing in the morning."

[airas-story]

this isnt a prompt but you dont have to answer it immediately

do you have any specific headcannons for Tony and Stephen?

I won't lie, the moment I read this I was like, "wait, do I have any headcanons?" Of course, yes, yes I do, but for a minute there I couldn't think of a single one. Some of my headcanons show up in a lot of my stories. At the same time, sometimes I ignore my own headcanons because I want to write a story that plays around with another idea or concept. Writing is fun for playing around with ALL the ideas and I hold myself beholden to (almost) nothing. (There are a few things I'm pretty unshakeable on when it comes to characterization, but that's another matter.)

As it is here are only a few of my headcanons.

Beneath cut because it got kind of long-winded...

Tony Headcanons:

Childhood: I don't like Howard, so we'll just skip over all my headcanons about him as a dad... I do think Maria was a better parent, but I feel like she was still somewhat distant. I do headcanon that Jarvis played a huge role in Tony's growth, but even then, Tony was in boarding school by the time he was eight, so... Yeah, I think growing up was a very lonely, isolating experience for Tony.

College: I do think Tony was probably taken advantage of a lot for a lot of reasons, people trying to befriend him for money, people taking advantage of his inexperience and naivete (he was fourteen and his experience before this was boarding school), and people trying to take advantage of his genius to help them in a variety of ways. If Tony didn't already have trust issues by this point, college ensured he did.

Pre-Iron Man Phase: I do think Tony followed the worked hard, partied hard philosophy. That work was probably predominantly on the engineering and creation side, but he 100 percent played a role in SI's success (I go back and forth on how he performed as CEO) by keeping them on top in terms of innovation. I think he genuinely thought the weapons division was important and that SI was doing important work in protecting their troops. I don't think he loved it, even if he was good at it. I do think Tony was one of the primary reasons SI worked on a lot of not-weapons divisions (since I don't think Obie cared in the slightest when it wasn't weapons).

Iron Man Phase: I genuinely don't think he ever considered himself a "hero", he might have agreed he did "hero work" but I think that, for the most part, he never got rid of the guilt that told him he needed to do more to 'redeem' himself. Then the PTSD (well, more PTSD) happened and everything came down to "I need to keep everyone safe". (Of note, I really do think that Howard and Obie hammered in that SI's role was to 'protect' the US and their soldiers, for Tony there has always been the background hum of "it's my job to protect people" and when he was disillusioned at one form of protection, he naturally gravitated to a new form. It didn't always go right, obviously, but I do think that was always a background motivation)

AI: I've always gone with the "Tony's AI are genuinely sentient" headcanon and I probably always will. Like, they're not AI the way the AI as it's considered in real life and I don't think in the MCU there is anything like Tony's AI. (Ultron is a whole other thing, I very much think there was some sort of sentience there, but I think it was already there and not created by Hydra.)

Random Serious: Tony has no real understanding of what it means to have privacy or boundaries because no one ever allowed him either. I also think that Tony 100 percent recognized competence in other people and respected (and liked!) that about people. Other people's intelligence and competency did not intimidate him or mess with his self-image as a genius himself.

Random Fun: Tony genuinely loves kids (though he does not always understand kids, given his own childhood), and while he doesn't respond to all fan mail (there'd be a lot), when he does it is 100 percent the fan mail from kids (or teenagers, especially teenagers who genuinely seem to need help or reassurance from 'their hero'). When in doubt, Tony tells these kids the same things he thinks Jarvis (the butler) would have told him.

Stephen Headcanons:

Childhood: Stephen's childhood was probably pretty standard to start with, though I do think he struggled in school in terms of "bored, bored, bored, bored, bored", because he wasn't challenged enough. I have always imagined that in a lot of ways Donna's death destroyed his family, all of them isolating themselves and unable to really reach each other in the aftermath. I do think he decided very early on that he wanted to be a doctor and it was because of Donna. (Whether it was an injury when Donna was younger or Donna's death I switch up in my head.)

College: I think Stephen was probably pretty isolated, in part by choice, during college because he was trying to get through as fast as possible, be the best possible, and set himself up to be as successful in the long run as possible. I do think that once he got into actual med school, this would be the first time in schooling he had any real challenge and he loved it. He still probably excelled more easily than most of his fellow students, but getting a genuine challenge only increased his love for medicine.

Doctor Phase: Whether Stephen was liked or not, I do think he was respected, both in the general medical field and within Metro General itself. I imagine while he might have been a little condescending to some other Doctors (and definitely more condescending the less capable he considered them) he had plenty of respect for the nurses and technicians he worked with; he'd recognize that every role in the hospital is important and its the whole team that makes a success. (As of note: I do think Stephen had respect for others in his field, he recognized and respected competence when and where he saw it.)

Sorcerer Phase: When Stephen finally broke through his mental block in terms of magic, he learned fast. His time in the Dark Dimension fighting Dormammu also accelerated his power and skill immensely. I think he felt massive guilt for the Ancient One's death and that a part of him blamed himself for it; I imagine he also felt guilt for Mordo leaving. I think other sorcerers did respect Stephen for both his skill and his sacrifices (I also expect a lot of them didn't fully understand what he did sacrifice with Dormammu, just that he did). Like Tony, I don't think Stephen ever really saw himself as a hero, even if he realized he was doing important work.

The Cloak of Levitation: Sentient, okay. The Cloak of Levitation is sentient! (And yes, I think the Sanctum is, too.) This may not strictly be about Stephen, but I'm still putting it there. I also think that Stephen probably recognized the cloak as sentient pretty quickly into their bonding.

Random Serious: I also think Stephen cares a lot about the people around him, but he has a hard time showing that (for a lot of reasons), but this contributes to people's perception of him as callous.

Random Fun: Stephen is trivia king. I will go to my death believing that Stephen is trivia king, okay. He'll also drop trivia whenever there's an opportune moment, the more obscure the better.

Anyways, I have a lot more headcanons about both of them, but I have already gone way too long. However I would LOVE to hear other people's headcanons for these two! I just love hearing people talk about these two and the chance to consider different headcanons for me to potentially adopt (or at least play around with in a story or two).

[project-sekai-facts]

I know this is more opinion than fact, but how do you feel about the second round of WLs so far? Personally, I can’t help but miss the vibe mixed events had especially since WL2 feels like artificial angst.

theyre so baddddd sorry for being overdramatic but we've really got a whole month of this? they killed mixed events for this? i get you need to do tree sekai shit but would a vsinger event have done the job fine?

the concept of the stories had a lot of potential but were executed horribly. like it shows how much all the characters need each other but everyone is just miserable. even in the current one the only character who is actually happy is kanade. hers is the one i've found most interesting because it actually has shown her a better life where her dad is okay and she's mentally healthy, but because of that there's no niigo, so she has to confront that. i pitched my idea for it as being like that, everyone gets a different AU where they get what they want/something ideal but they don't end up with their unit, e.g rui joins arcland but it's better written, or kohane doesn't get into street music but she finds something else she can invest in.

the way they've done it is that every unit revolves around one event, which basically results in it revolving around one character (two in the case of vbs) and then trying to fill the gaps. this was the weakness of vbs chapter, toya's one was actually good and interesting, and an's was pretty good, but akito and kohane's were really short and felt like nothing much happened. like it's forced, it's so so so forced just to make them all miserable and it's like. why. i get you want to show how much the characters need each other but there's infinitely more compelling and ACTUALLY GOOD ways of doing that (like kanade chapter). have you noticed how some events recently have sad/angsty looking cards as the banner even if it's a not very important part of the event. like scars left behind. it's because they perform better. this whole thing is just to trick people into playing wle. i hope they never run wle again theyre so longggg and wle1 wasnt even that good anyway (except for leoni)

also they impact nothing. they reference wl2 in aim higher and higher but did it impact anything? NO. OF COURSE IT DIDN'T BECAUSE OBVIOUSLY THE DIVORCE ANGST SLOP HAS NO IMPACT ON THE STORY WHERE EVERYTHING IS FINE. they didn't even address the arcland thing at the end of wxs wl2. yknow that thing that rui had been keeping quiet about for a year. they just DON'T ACKNOWLEDGE IT. AT ALL. and they probably will next event but if they just sweep it under the rug with "oh yeah asahi asked you to go to arcland but you declined so it's fine [optional: but are you gonna do the same with sakaki]" i might actually scream. it's so obvious clpl had NO PLANS. ZERO. for the middle of the story. they told us they planned the start and end and apparently that was literal. WHAT HAPPENED TO THE WRITING RECENTLY??????

[forsaken-headcanons]

hi gang I haven't talked about Jason much lately.. anyway time to not talk about Jason again.. im also off anon.. I'm becoming more confident (plus I'm gonna be talking more about my au on my tumblr so uhh.. am i allowed to say that? idk, but i already have so..) still gonna sign off as anon tho so it's easier for me to find my headcanons here 😓😓

also hi u guys are open again that's so silly i love you guys mwah don't go bald on August 23rd 2031 at 5.47pm GMT timezone.. /threat. <3

uhhh continuation of this ig..

https://www.tumblr.com/forsaken-headcanons/783700752669540352/hope-u-guys-r-okay-considering-there-is-315-asks?source=share

it's au time aka I lowks forgot to say that 1x1 is also being tortured because I hate them (lovingly) I need to torture my (second) fav killer, cuz I ain't doing nothing to my baby Jason. you will NOT catch me writing angst about JayJay 😭🙏

also actually laying this out well so it isn't as fuckass as my other ones 💔

FIRST - the 1x1 au lore.. >

- a prophecy was created about the first child of Telamon - a child that was yet to be born. The child would grow from a sweet, caring one into something engulfed by malice and hatred.

- Once the first child of Telamon - 1x1x1x1- was created, the whole of Robloxia fell silent, fearful of what the child would become. Those who followed prophecies rule by rule and those who enjoyed results were excited. Would the first child of Telamon break the prophecy? Or would it be consumed by it's density just like the others before it?

- When Telamon deemed 1x1 to be old enough, he told them about the prophecy, about the fate that laid ahead of them. Though he left out very key parts out, parts that would eventually ruin 1x1.

- 1x1 was distraught, they didn't want to become a creature of hatred, they didn't want that for themselves. So they tried to stop it. They tried to always make sure that they were nice, that they never did anything that could be deem hateful. They did it so much to the point they became obsessed with it.

- And the obsession eventually led to the hatred. The obsession consuming 1x1 to the point where they hated it. They HATED.

- Thus the prophecy was fulfilled. And the first child of Telamon was turned into the creature of malice and hate that they were always fated to be.

- Now, what was the part that Telamon left out? The part that had made 1x1 ruin themselves without even knowing about it? Well, the prophecy stated that the one who tries to be the opposite of what they are destined, they will be it. If 1x1 hadn't tried to not become hatred and malice, they wouldn't have become it.

- If Telamon had told them that they didn't have to be overly nice and never hateful, they would have not become this. If they stayed the way they were before being told about the prophecy, THEY WOULDVE BEEN FINE.

- Taphs made a some point during this uhh yea he's just there, there's no prophecy about him , he was just made to serve Builderman

- UHHH they get forsakened

- rip

uh anyway au headcanons - (is it really headcanons if its canon to my au.. UHH)

- they/her 1x1 my love.. they prefer they/them tho so

- a sensitive soul but doesn't like to show it cuz she's supposed to be this disgusting creature of hatred - THEY CANT BE SENSITIVE!!!

- They can't stand being alone , lowks always with John Doe (I ship 1xdoe so uhh.. my otp since like 2016 I love them..)

- cuz yk they're a being of hatred they get angry a LOT quicker than anyone

- favourite movie is Lego Batman (It's the only movie Telamon let them watch.)

- surprisingly good at many card games, she prolly played some with Robloxians when they were obsessed with being nice so they just gradually got better at it

- they HATE touch.. always have despite ignoring it for like a realllllyyyy long time, they move away from touch the SECOND they feel it. Recoils at it.

- likes to paint, especially people they like and sceneries that are nice looking

- they have a ranking of all the killers and survivors, Shedletsky is at the bottom of both.. despite not even being a killer..

erm that's all I have for now hehe /silly (mod c00lkidd has infected me.) anyway SORRY FOR THIS LONG ASS WALL OF TEXT FUCKIJG HELL HOLY ESSAY.. - mb gang half of this is just the intro erm.. oopies

- 🔪🥩 anon

(not my drawing)

Self fulfilling prophecies... Doomed self fulfilling prophecies oh my god that makes me so sick. Being so afraid of becoming something it instead comes the other way around oh my god

1x being sensitive makes sense to me, being a literal being of hatred they would be rather sensitive to negative emotions and easily triggered.

[magicaldice]

Synopsis: Y/n goes to a party with her bestfriend without telling her toxic boyfriend. She unexpectedly meets Chris sturniolo & things start to unravel overtime.

⚠︎ : read at your own leisure.

any feedback, likes, comments or shares, are appreciated!

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 part 5

I had waken up to an empty bed. Which is alarming because I was in Chris's bed and had fell asleep with him in it. I grab my phone off of the nightstand and check my messages.

Jackson hadn't even crossed my mind until now, when I read his message asking where I was at. I don't answer because I'm more curious of where Chris was.

I get up and walk out to the living room hoping to see him out there. And when I realize he's not at the house I get even more confused and curious. He didn't mention last night anything about having to leave early.

I text Madi to ask if she's awake and I hear footsteps coming down the hallway shortly after. "Hey girl good morning" she says. "Hey have you seen Chris?" I ask. Her body language changes, becoming almost unsettled.

"Yeah, he left. But he didn't really say much before leaving" she said kind of hesitantly. "Oh" I responded quietly. "When did he leave?" I questioned. "Like 2 hours ago I think" she said uncertain.

She watches me, noticing my energy change quickly. "He'll be back girl don't overthink" she said. I nod my head and sit down on the couch. "I actually need to leave I have some stuff to do" I said. "You sure you don't want to stay for breakfast?" She asks. And I declined the offer feeling to anxious to eat.

"Well I can have Matt give you a ride home" she voiced. "No it's okay" I said. "He can take you he has to go to the store anyways" she insisted. And a few seconds later she disappeared down the hallway.

Shortly after she came back out to the living room, followed by Matt. I give Madi a hug and head out to Matt's car.

"You okay?" he asked as we got into his vehicle. I shake my head. "You don't look to sure" he said. "I'm okay I just- I don't know" I respond. "It's Chris isn't it" Matt assumed, very much correctly. "Yeah" I responded quietly.

Matt let out a deep breath. "He disappears sometimes. It's just something he does" Matt explained. "Why?" I questioned. "Did he say what he was doing or going?" I continued to ask. Matt shakes his head. "He'll come around, don't worry about it too much" Matt says trying to reassure me.

"Listen I know you and him are friends and all, but I just want you to be cautious" Matt says continuing to keep his eyes on the road. "What do you mean by that?" I asked. "I love my brother, I really do. It's just he can be complicated in certain aspects. All I'm saying is to be careful" Matt spoke.

And after him telling me that I stayed silent the rest of the ride. When I got home I finally texted Jackson back. I told him I spent the night at my friends house and hoped he wouldn't be mad about it. I waited for a couple hours hoping Chris would text me and he never did.

Jackson had texted me asking why I was staying at my friends house so much recently. And I couldn't come up with a good enough reason other than the fact that I wanted to be around Chris. So I didn't respond, I went to sleep instead.

The next day went by slowly. I had hungout with Jackson just to be ignored as he scrolled on his phone for endless hours. It was either his phone or he would play video games on his Xbox. And with Jackson barely acknowledging my existence despite being in the same room as him, it led me to anxiously thinking about Chris for hours.

I think back to when me and Chris were on his bed, when he had caressed my face. My body had almost felt like it was floating.I dont even know how to describe it. I don't know if it was some type of tension between us but it had me me think way too much.

It had made me feel confused. It was like I had been so affected by Chris in a way that I had never been by Jackson. And it made me wonder if that was wrong.

And as much as I felt confused by it, I felt like I wanted it to happen again. I felt close to Chris, like we had a genuine bond. He was my friend, and I cared about him. I wanted to be around him, in his presence.

And when I was thinking about the moment on his bed with him, I felt guilty. Not because we crossed a line or did anything, but because a part of me deep down almost felt as if I wanted something to happen.

And right then and there, when that thought had crossed my mind I felt ashamed. I was in a relationship with Jackson. And I cared about Jackson. I would never cheat on him, ever.

I had got tired of thinking so much so I had scrolled on my phone for hours and listened to music. Anything to make sure I couldn't form a single thought.

It had now been 2 days since I heard from Chris and I had started to worry so much that I felt sick. It was about 6 pm when I had got tired of feeling like shit so I fell asleep.

2 hours later I wake up to Katie shaking me out of my sleep. "Y/n wake the fuck up" she said urgently. As soon as I gained consciousness my body went into fight or flight mode.

'What! Whats going on!" I yelled, heart beating fast. "There's a man at the door asking to see you" she said. "I don't know who it is but he's cute, hurry I told him I was gonna come get you" she said rushing me to get up.

I walked quickly to the front door and opened it. "Chris?". He looked at me with a sorry look on his face. "You can come in if you want" I offered, hoping he would come inside. After a few seconds he followed me inside and into my room.

Him and I sat on my bed. "Im sorry" he immediately said. "I don't know what happened I just needed time to think" he explained. "Time to think about what?" I asked. "Nothing, im just sorry" he said.

"You had me so worried, I didn't know where you went. I didn't know if you were okay" I said clearly still concerned. "I am I just- I'm sorry but I don't really want to talk about it" he expressed. "Why? Did I do something?" I asked, not understanding why he wouldn't open up to me. "No, you didn't do anything I promise" he said looking away from me before grabbing onto my hand and squeezing it lightly.

Thick silence fell between us. "I missed you" he said quietly with my hand still in his. "I missed you too" I replied quietly, still concerned and confused. But I didn't want to push it, if he didn't want to tell me what was wrong I wasn't gonna force him to.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but was holding back. I couldn't really read his energy even when I so badly wanted to. "Can I hug you?' he asked. I nodded and he pulled my body into his. The hug lasted longer than what it normally would, as if he was trying to tell me something without using his words.

He had finally let go, and looked back at my face as if he was relieved. "You able to hangout for awhile?" I asked him. "Yeah".

We had sat and talked for a bit. And when he told me we should go on a walk I agreed. Fresh air sounded good.

Chris's POV:

I had ran, doing the one thing I told myself not to do. When I had waken up to y/n sleeping in my bed that morning it scared me. It hurt me. Because I knew that even though she was in my bed, she would have to wake up and go back home and see Jackson.

I wanted nothing more than to stay in that bed with her. But I had fallen so deeply into my own thoughts, which caused me to run. I had went and stayed at my friend Nate's house for 2 days before convincing myself to come back and talk to her.

Me and y/n that night had stayed up talking for hours about a variety of things. I had never sat and talked about childhood stories or about my family with a girl. I had never opened up like that to anyone before. It fucking frightened me.

And I knew she was probably worried and confused on why I had left. But I knew that it was getting harder to pretend. To pretend like I was okay with her going back to Jackson. To pretend that I could only feel for her as a friend. To pretend that what I felt for her was deeper than what I had expected to feel.

I wanted to tell her so bad. That I hated feeling things for people because I couldn't regulate my emotions properly. I didn't know how to control them at times, even when I needed to the most. I hated being vulnerable, but it was different with her.

Feeling things in general was hard enough, but feeling what I felt for her was scary. It was so risky for me. And I know I was selfish for ghosting her for those 2 days. But it was like a habit of mine that was hard to break free from.

I knew that leaving her was wrong. It made me feel extremely guilty. I was scared of losing her when she wasn't even mine to begin with. But I couldn't bring myself to just give up on being friends with her. I had talked myself into showing up at her house.

We talked for a bit before I asked if she wanted to go on a walk. She had agreed and we proceeded to walk around with no destination in mind. And I didn't care as long as she was next to me.

Y/n POV:

The walk was quiet. But I didn't care, as long as he was next to me. "You okay?" he asked out of the blue. "Yeah. Just thinking" I responded. "About what?" he had asked curiously. "I don't know to be honest. My mind has kind of been all over the place recently" I admitted.

"Well if you want to talk about anything I'm here" Chris said reassuring me. I didn't respond as we kept walking next to each other.

I had gasped at the sight of a beautiful cat that was walking towards us. "Come here kitty" I said excitedly. The cat walked right up to us and I bent down to pet it. "Your such pretty baby" I said softly to the cat.

Chris had started to rub my head as I was bent over petting the cat. It felt like a sweet moment. "The cat is almost as pretty as you" Chris said continuing to stroke my hair. His words made me shiver. "the cat is almost as pretty as you".

After a bit the cat had wandered off and we had ended up walking back to my house.

I was laying on my bed, Chris sitting next to me staring off into space. "Chris" I said. He looked over at me with tired eyes. "Yeah?" He asked.

My phone started buzzing, Jackson's calling. I look at the phone and then at Chris who looks as if he's trying mask disappointment. Or maybe defeat.

And before I grab my phone, Chris reaches for it quickly. "Give it back" I demanded. With my phone in his hands he puts it has high as he can in the air. He smiles and shakes his head. I crawl over to him, reaching for my phone. "Chris this isn't funny give it back" I complained.

He laughs watching me struggle to reach the phone in his hands as he holds it in the air as high as he can. I crawl on top of him, reaching for the phone. I finally was able to grab it but not before the phone stopped ringing.

I didn't realize the way I was practically straddled onto Chris’s lap until now. He grabs onto my hips softly, and looks down at how our bodies are so close together.

My heart fastened as his hands are still placed on my hips. He looks back up at me, and he swallowed hard while looking uneasy. I can feel my face heat up, a pink tint coming across my cheeks.

"Sorry I wasn't really paying attention I was just trying to get my phone" I said, feeling his hands still placed on my hips. "It's okay" he says quietly, his eyes flicking between my eyes and lips.

A few seconds of silence and staring into eachothers eyes pass before I hear my phone ding. I quickly get off of Chris's lap and check my message.

Jackson's upset I didn't answer his phone call. I would have answered if Chris hadn't snatched my phone from me. I text Jackson back and make up some dumb excuse of why I didn't respond.

Chris gets up off the bed and grabs his phone that's on my nightstand. "I should go it's getting late" he said. Chris's energy has shifted, I'm not entirely sure to what but he seems to be masking how he's really feeling.

"Don't leave" I blurt out without thinking. Chris looks at me as if he's confused. "Just stay the night" I said letting out a deep breath. Chris is still standing there, almost as if he's frozen. "Please" I said desperately.

"And your boyfriend- he's okay with me being here?" Chris asked, already knowing the answer to his own question. "If you don't want to stay you don't have to" I said.

A few seconds pass before Chris sits down back on my bed. Every time I was around him, I felt like I never had enough time.

And yeah, I know it could seem bad to want Chris to stay with me, putting my phone on silent so that way I couldn't hear Jackson blowing up my phone. But I didn't care at the moment.

I wanted to be around Chris, maybe a little too much. But he was my friend, the closest friend I had since I met Katie. The friendship I had with Chris was secure, and comforting.

Jackson would throw a fit if he knew Chris and I were friends. He would throw an even bigger fit if he knew how many times I've hungout with Chris, or that I had stayed the night with Chris. Or that Chris was about to stay the night with me.

And maybe I should feel guilty, or ashamed. I should feel upset at myself for not getting off Chris's lap more quickly earlier. I should feel bad for liking when I feel a weird slight tension between me and Chris.

And maybe I am reading too far into things. Maybe when Chris compliments me he's just being friendly. Maybe him placing his hands on my hips, seemingly wanting to hold me in place as if he didn't want me to get off of him, was just him being friendly.

I knew Chris was my friend. I knew that I would never cheat on Jackson. But I also knew I felt more like myself around Chris more than I ever did with Jackson. And that weighed on my mind more times than I could count.

And as me and Chris sit on my bed, staring at each other nothing else mattered. All that mattered was that Chris was here with me. And as long as he was next to me I could be content. I could be myself, and I could breathe without feeling guilty for existing.

taglist:

@overlygoin @riggysworld @mattstromboli @nessaisabelartemas333

[brain-of-rain]

Take your time brain, I got plenty of paitent given what you told me last time. I'm curious to see what else you want to show from waht I told you last time, and I'm pretty sure so is everyone else here.

I can't help but agree with everything again. I think your pretty on point with everything. I've read Daigo's manga myself so I'm aware of his personality. Its just that I get this feeling even the big guy will have a limited on some of the parental bullshit found in the KN8 vers.

Though I'd like to add, if you don't mind, I don't even think Daigo will be calm when 9 eats Isao. Strained or not, thats defently something thats gonna piss the big guy off like nothing else given how he is as a person. Its so obvious how much danger 9 is gonna be in when Daigo loses it, that it would have not been more obvious if the kaiju had a big neo sign up his head saying in big bold letters 'Kill'.

I feel like that in the after the funeral, Daigo does a houdini act as well, and noone is able to find him. He is actually hidding among the moutains blowing up steam cause if he don't his gonna do something he is gonna regret dearly. He feels enough guilt as it is. The third's base or what remains of it at least, most certainly would not handle the man's rage at the moment.

I feel Kafka would be the only one who manage to find the giant, thanks to his kaiju senses giving him a bit advantage. But I'm unsure if the himbo should meet the giant alone or with Kikoru on his back. I feel she would be the only one who manage to calm Daigo at the moment, even if she is the last person Daigo wanted to see at the moment. Kafka defently gives the two as much space as he can, all too aware both needs a private moment.

The giant is also quite a sight I migth add. Bloody fists, eyes red from constant crying and just looking as disheveled as he can be. Not exactly a good sign for either Kafka or Kikoru really.

True True. Godaigo is patient, but there has to be a limit. I agree that Daigo would not handle Isao being eaten well at all. An emotional break from Daigo at that beat in the story would be especially impactful, as those two have been through a lot together. Even if there were still tensions between them, losing someone so close would be devastating. However, I hope by then, Godaigo and Isao would have been able to at least begin to resolve their issues. It would be especially sad if they were never able to start forgiving each other before Isao's passing.

I can see Daigo motivated by an unrelenting savagery, attacking Kaiju no 9, completely disregarding his own safety. The first time any of the other characters have witnessed him fighting without a smile.

Oh man, a scene of Daigo absolutely tearing an environment apart due to uncontrollable emotion would be amazing/devastating. The idea of Godaigo leaving because he, an unrelentingly upbeat and gentle man, knows he's too emotionally volatile to be around anything breakable, especially people, hits me right in the heart. The image of Kafka and maybe also Kikoru finding him out there is devastating. I really love the entire scene! Thank you again for your ask! The way you think is very inspirational

[buckets-and-trees]

I'm... I'm maybe NEVER RECOVERING from all of the commentary you put in here! Sonia, you gifted me with a beyond-in-depth analysis that almost had me in tears because you pointed out SO MUCH NUANCE! So much of the motivation and intent, and even some of the things that I didn't realize consciously that I was doing but just felt like that's how it should be, and explicated the why for why it felt like what the narrative needed!

So the "hold your throat" line. When this whole thing started off, yes, it was just really rough and dirty hook up sex. But even in the rough and dirty, there are things that aren't really a first outing kind of exercise. To get to the point where you feel trust enough to let someone have full command of holding your throat however they want to? That's an intimate and trusting connection. And even if they cut emotions from each other for quite some time, that still means something.

I can't wait to explore this in the upcoming parts, but GOD SONIA! YOU HIT SO MUCH OF IT RIGHT ON THE NOSE THAT I CAN'T HELP BUT FLAIL RIGHT BACK AT YOU! These two were both really closed off when this started. Emotionally unavailable, but in different ways. The reader was so sick of trying to invest emotionally in finding a partner. Bucky felt like he was in a rock bottom don't-give-a-fuck-about-anything-because-I-fucked-it-up post-divorce state. But by continuing to have this connection - someone they built consistency with, that they found release with? It does alter them and get them to both start very slowly shifting.

When we met Bucky, he was working an overnight parking lot security job.

For why?

But - and I so casually mention this - in the second part I establish that they've been hooking up for around 8 months at that point, and it's very on-and-off, and so when they hook up that time, Bucky mentions in the texts that he got a new security job - building security, still overnight, but he goes from sitting around doing next to nothing to something more.

And the reader has gone from a place of hook ups only to being willing to let her sister play matchmaker with the "practically perfect" widower father Aiden.

So Bucky and the reader are not the same people we started with.

And then you dive into the analysis of being able to turn your brain off with Bucky, for there being no inhibitions with either of you when you're together, no demands, no "supposed to", no expectations. And when you continue to establish that there are no obligations, that's a unique gift to have found with someone.

But how do you translate that over into relationship territory?

Only seeing someone for sex makes it easy to keep it sex.

But seeing them in the light of day zapped something for both of them.

Bucky coming over that night, two more nights, and this night? Showering together? It's just weaving a tapestry of more and wanting more and how do we even approach more. Like circling a bonfire, getting closer and closer, but it feels like going to the next level would be like jumping into the fire. We can just be close and get warmth.

And - you picked up what I was putting down - Bucky doesn't feel like he fits the mold of what a reader like you is supposed to want. And how can he even ask you to consider him outside of that? To trust that he'd have any genuine intentions when it's been so long of no intentions, and that he's not just saying it now because there's someone else in the picture?

Like it or not, that's what happened.

Bucky didn't have a shift because Aiden got into the mix.

Bucky had a shift because he saw you irl.

But the two DID happen to coincide, and that's unfortunate.

And the reader has to grapple with her own doubts of does she just want more from Bucky because they've invested so much time together and/or is she afraid of what Aiden could represent if she decides to give him a real shot, and maybe she should only stick with the hook up sex?

That's the territory we started to see under the surface here, and that's what we're headed into next/soon.

(I feel like I'm addressing some of my own fucked up emotional constipation here. I've certainly emotionally removed myself from ... seeking partnership. And I've got to deal with some of that. Because can't get hurt if you don't put yourself out there. And yet... Can be alone forever, but do't want to be alone forever. But I do feel like I also had to detox from dating AND hook ups and figure out if I could be happy on my own. And I did do that. But now that I've figured that out, I need to stop completely sidelining myself from any potential romantic connections. Easier said than done, but... the more I start to convince myself I could be ready, the closer I'll get.)

Thermostat's Set at Six-Nine [Bed Chem collection]

Characters/Pairings: Bucky Barnes x curvy!Millennial female!reader Word Count: 3k Summary: Bucky invaded your bed the night after you bumped into each other at the bake sale, and it trips a streak...

Content Warnings: modern AU; hook up culture/bootycall; established no-strings sexual relationship;

Logistical Notes: We met Bed Chem Bucky last summer during HBS, so what better time to bump into him again than for the FIRST WEEK of @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer 2025?! Using the dialogue prompt "Mind your own damn business" and the themes of secret sex and loosly embarrassment and denial as well.

Previous: Even Better Than In My Head | Collection List ↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You meant for it to be a one-time relapse, but Bucky’s been in your bed three nights in a row.

The first night, he left before sunrise. The next, he lingered in your bed, snoring with his arm casually possessive across your waist, until you wriggled free and locked yourself in the bathroom, equal parts annoyed and turned on by the hickeys blooming over your breasts and neck. But last night, he stayed so late into the morning that you had to tell him directly to get out, that you needed to get ready for work, that your boss had already noticed you showing up late twice this week. You thought it would embarrass him, or at least make him reconsider, but he only smirked, pressed you up against the wall in your entryway, and left you with an orgasm and a rude little text before you’d even made it to your car.

Tonight, you promised yourself, you’re going to turn him away. 

You never imagined—when you started sleeping with the man who once got you off in the back of a security truck, who barely bothered to learn your last name and only ever texted after midnight—that he would become… clingy.

And yet, night four, 2:07 am, your front door clicks open with the softest of sounds. You should have changed the code on the lock. You shouldn’t have given him the code in the first place. But the truth is, you wanted this. You wanted to be wanted, even by the worst possible man for you.

You lie very still in bed, feigning sleep, as Bucky pads through your tiny apartment in stocking feet, nearly quiet as an assassin. 

You know you should have locked him out—especially tonight, when your phone is full of sweet, anticipatory texts from Aiden about your brunch plans in the morning, about whether you like lemon curd or if you have any allergies. You even set an early alarm, put out the dress you planned to wear, and prepped the coffeepot. But Bucky’s shadow falling across the threshold, the shiver of anticipation snaking up your spine, undoes all logic.

He doesn’t say your name. Instead, he sits on the edge of your bed as if summoned. He runs a palm up your calf, kneading an absent bruise on your thigh he probably put there the night before.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. 

You pretend to still be asleep. You strive for even breathing, for a slack jaw and closed eyes, but you know the way your body betrays you—how your back arches with the tiniest invitation, how your breath catches in the silence of the room.

Bucky leans in, his stubble dragging along the inside of your knee. He doesn’t hesitate. Two fingers sweep up to your hip, his thumb hooks into the elastic of your shorts and panties, and then he’s tugging, impatient, taking your bare ass in the palm of his hand.

He pushes your shirt up. His lips blaze a hot trail up your spine that you can’t ignore, and you have to let out a soft, desperately contented moan. 

You feel the grin on his lips against your skin. “Knew you’d be ready to play,” he says, pressing a hot kiss to the crook of your neck. His breath is faintly minty and cool, as if he knew you’d be auditioning him again tonight. 

“I have to get up early,” you say, and you finally open your eyes, staring up at the ceiling. “I have plans.”

Bucky’s hand finds its way back to the inside of your thigh, two thick fingers gently circling as if the entire world is only the small of your body beneath his touch. “You gonna let some other guy taste you?” His lips curve against your shoulder, half-mocking, half-possessive. The two of you know you’re not exclusive. That’s been the understanding since the beginning. 

You snort, turning your head to glare at him. “Maybe I will. Maybe he’ll let me sleep.” 

He smirks, unperturbed. “You don’t want sleep, you want this.” His fingers slide inside you, slow and devastating, his thumb finding your clit like it was programmed to ruin you. “You don’t need to get up early if you never go back to sleep.” His words melt into the curve of your ear, a criminal’s confession offered in the hush before dawn.

You want to protest, to tell him no, that you need to banish him from your apartment, your bed, and, most importantly, your mind. 

If only he wanted you in the daytime the way he wants you now.

Wait. 

Do you even want that with him? 

And Aiden might be satisfying in bed in the future. 

Bucky’s mouth is on your hip, then your waist, then the lowest curve of your back. “You want me to be gentle, or do you want it how you like it?” he asks, and it’s not a question at all because he already knows.

He fucks you with his fingers until you whimper, until your thighs tremble and your pajamas are halfway down your calves and you don't even remember ever owning resistance.

"I have to…" you whisper, but he cuts you off with a sharp slap—equal parts attention and punctuation—on your left cheek.

"You have to nothing," he says, and then he flips you, one-armed, so you're faceup, and he slides his cock in so slow, an intrusion, invasive and inevitable. He's watching your face, the way the corners of your mouth go slack, the way your eyes glass over. He jerks your thigh up, knee to his ribcage, and leans in to bite your jaw, not enough to break the skin but enough that you know he could. You whimper and he pulses inside you, his breath ragged and animal. 

"Fuck, you're tight," he grits, voice thick with the edge of darkness that always follows him through the door. His hand tightens on your hip until you're sure you’ll bruise, until he’s moving your body to his rhythm like you’re just another tool, a favorite toy finally brought out and admired. You are too tired to protest, too sated by the animal logic his body impresses upon yours.

He fucks you slowly at first, which is almost a taunt. You know how Bucky likes his rhythm—hard enough it feels like a fight, paced at some devil’s tempo—and when he goes slow, it means he’s in it not for the chase but the capture.

You hate that the way he holds your throat now feels like the safest place in the world, or that no one else even comes close to this, to you clinging to the back of his neck as if the entire earth would drop away if you ever let go.

You realize, in the few lucid spaces of pleasure between losing yourself, that you’re not even angry at him for breaking into your apartment or for making himself at home in your bed. You’re angry at yourself, for loving the way he doesn’t ask for permission, for loving that you never have to be good or gentle or careful. Here, with Bucky, you get to be feral. You get to let it all go.

He’s not saying anything, not even the little dirty nothings he usually mutters, just breathing against your skin, breathing with you, in you, all around you. The silence of your room is disturbed only by the slap of flesh and the needy little whimpers slipping past your lips despite all intentions otherwise. He watches you nearly the entire time, eyes open and hungry, as if he’s trying to memorize the exact shape of the moment when you finally break for him, the muscle memory of your shudder and sigh. Every time you try to look away, his hand turns your face back to his, and when you clench around him, he lets out a sharp, desperate sound that tells you more than words ever could—tells you he’s come unravelled, too.

You come. Of course you do. You always do with him. It wrecks you, the kind of orgasm that wracks a sob from you, trembling so hard your teeth chatter. He holds you down, fucking straight through your climax. He doesn’t slow; he chases his own finish with ruthless single-mindedness, the only sign of tenderness the gentle way his thumb wipes beneath your eye as you cry.

When he finishes—when he comes inside you, without a word, only a primal groan—he collapses on top of you. He’s big and warm and so heavy on you. You breathe around the urge to bite his ear, to bury your nose in the salt of his neck, to drag him deeper somehow. You wait for the weight to become unbearable, and then you wait some more. 

You simply lie there, but nothing is insignificant in this simplicity-Bucky heaving, face pressed to your collarbone, his hair damp and loose from its tie. You slide your hands up from his back to his scalp, gentle, selfish, not willing to let him go yet, and you feel the rare tremble in his body, the aftershock of release. He doesn’t move except to adjust his grip, his hand splaying wide over your chest as if to imprint you, mark you out as his. You’re not sure if he’s prepared to fall asleep right there, or if he’s waiting for you to break first and send him away.

He’s so much body, sometimes you think he could just smother you and you wouldn’t even mind.

When you finally speak, it’s not to dismiss him. 

“I’m getting up at seven-thirty,” you say, like an ultimatum. 

He lifts his head, squinting at you, at your hair plastered across your forehead and the haunted redness of your cheeks. His hand drags up from your chest to curl around your jaw, thumb fitting against your lower lip. You want him to say something cruel or lewd, something to dilute the intimacy, but instead he kisses your chin with a slowness that’s almost hesitant. "I’ll wake you up," he says.

The way he says it makes you ache and angry. 

He pulls out carefully, and you feel the mess he’s made of you, the slick that leaks between your thighs. Bucky tugs the covers over you, then lies down on his back, one arm cradled beneath his head, the other crooked so his palm rests on your belly, thumb drawing absent circles near your navel. It's almost sweet—almost—and so unlike what you'd expect from him that it flusters you. From the cast of his profile in the faint city light, you can tell he's still awake, maybe even as wired with adrenaline as you are.

After a minute, he says, "You think he’s boyfriend material, don’t you?" 

You let out a huff that could be laughter or contempt. 

“Mind your own damn business.”

He shifts a little closer, drags his knuckles up your ribs in a way that says I know every inch of this body, and you’re not keeping secrets from me. 

You’re wary of the tenor of the moment. 

“He’s what you’re supposed to want, right?” 

You don't answer right away. You want to laugh, to roll away from his touch and blurt something bitchy and final, but the honest answer is you don’t know. You wanted someone to take you to brunch, maybe even to dinner. You don’t need that, but you want that. 

"I haven't even decided if I like him yet," you say, your voice hollow with honesty.

Bucky grunts. "Yeah. Liar." The hand on your belly tightens, his thumb pressing into the soft curve above your hip. "You wouldn’t agree to go out with him if you didn’t."

"You don’t know that." You want to sound sharp, but it comes out softer, almost plaintive.

He shrugs, then moves his hand. “Sure, I do. Neither of us has slept with someone else for months now, right?”

You’re not surprised—he’s not wrong—but you’d never said that out loud, not even to yourself. You open your mouth to lie, to say “You can’t possibly know that,” but the words never surface. He knows. He’s always known. When you’re together, it’s like the whole world is distilled down to just this; sweat and friction and the comfort of never saying too much. 

The silence stretches, stretching out into a palpable thing. He traces lazy shapes against your skin, his breath evening out, a counterpoint to your hammering heart. 

“Go to sleep,” you mutter, but you don’t mean it as an order. You say it because you want the moment to end before you lose your nerve and ask him to stay. Because you don’t want to tell him to go either. 

He’s already drifting off, you can feel the slack gravity of him giving in. Bucky’s never been clingy, but here he is, falling asleep in your bed on consecutive nights. 

You lie there in the dark for a long moment, feeling his cum start to trickle down your thigh, and wonder what it would be like to have him in your bed every night, to know that’s what you both want. 

In the morning, he wakes you up and tugs you to the shower that’s already running. You step under the spray, goosebumps rising on your skin, both from the chill and from the awareness of Bucky’s heavy presence behind you.

You expect him to crowd you, to push you up against the cold tile and pin your wrists, but instead he lathers up his hands and runs them down your back, scraping gently with his blunt nails. No groping, no sly grabs; he’s just methodically cleaning you, as if that’s what you do when you fuck someone four nights running—you wash them, you take their old skin and strip it off. 

He makes a show of rinsing you off, turning you under the water, palming his hand across your brow to keep the suds out of your eyes. He doesn’t so much as steal a squeeze of your ass, doesn’t press his dick into the small of your back; he just does the job, brisk and pragmatic, like he’s washing a pet or a very dirty child.

You don’t know what to do with your hands, so you settle for lathering up his shoulders, scrubbing down his back, the broad expanse of him. There’s a long, pale scar just above his right hip, and you outline it with your fingertip. He flinches, ever so slightly, but lets you do it. Neither of you talks. You swap places, you share the soap. You know the choreography now, and you almost wish he would revert—grab the nape of your neck, make you look at him, demand you finish things the way only you can. But he doesn’t. 

When you step out, he grabs a towel and wraps it around your shoulders, tugging you into him. He’s still naked, still dripping, but somehow this moment is less erotic than domestic, less slick with want and more layered with something you can’t bother to name. At least not until caffeine.

You look up at him, clutching the towel to your front, and say, “You’re a menace.”

He grins, a wolfish can’t-help-himself grin. “You’re welcome.”

You notice the raw pink marks left by your fingernails across his shoulders, the lingering evidence of your own hunger. He pretends not to see you seeing him, but you catch the smirk on his face, feeling more settled to have that more familiar expression back in its place.

You towel off in the bedroom, Bucky sitting at the edge of your bed, already half-dressed, scrolling through his phone. You think he’ll have a text from one of his buddies, or maybe his ex-wife, but when you catch a glimpse of the screen, it’s a weather app and then, jarringly, a photo of the cupcakes from the PTA bake sale. There’s a text chain open—he’s sent the picture to someone, captionless.

You want to ask, but you think it would be too much, too close to real. You and Bucky are filthy, nasty, relentless sex without strings, no schedule, on a whim when someone sends up a flare. 

Maybe you’re both just fucking lonely.

You don’t ask.

Instead, you get dressed for brunch with Aiden, pulling on the dress you picked out last night and staring at your reflection. The map of bruises and bite marks that Bucky left on your shoulders and chest are somehow miraculously hidden, but you meticulously check to make sure.

Bucky hangs around until you start on your hair and make up, then plants a kiss on your shoulder blades and tells you, “Knock ‘em dead,” and leaves with his hands in his pockets. You tell yourself you should change the code, but you know you never will.

You spend the rest of the morning in a kind of liminal jet lag, floating through the motions of getting ready. You make it to the café five minutes late—a miracle for someone who has slept very little the past four nights.

Aiden is already seated at an outdoor table, sunlight sifting through the awning and lighting up his hair in a soft gold halo. He stands when he spots you, an old-fashioned but endearing gesture, and you feel immediately self-conscious, like you’re an imposter in a skin that doesn’t quite belong to you, meeting up with the prince from a Disney movie. 

He pulls out your chair with a quiet, “You look amazing,” and the words are so gentle your chest aches. 

You’re not sure what to do with this new vector of attention.

There’s nothing to do except order the French toast. 

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[deoidesign]

.

[moiraimyths]

Before we call anon rude because let’s see it from their perspective, imagine getting an entire feast to eat. That can be pretty hard to start with so much that’s going on, but if they start with one thing they know they’ll like (aka one character they like) that can be the start for them leaping to other characters to finish the story and the bigger story. I struggle the same way to start book series if I don’t have at least one character that drives me to read it, it’s all about what can be the hook to push them through. Sounds like the anon is neurodivergent (just a guess) so they might genuinely not see it as rude and see it as a solution to even play the game to start with.

Btw absolutely adore the game, the complex and rich characters making them all so unique is amazing. The art is so pleasing to the eyes I love it!! I’m waiting for it all to get out at once so I don’t get too impatient. Shae however interests me the most, which routes will have the most lore for them? Will there be routes that give more lore in general based on decisions you make or do they all share the same amount? (I mean general lore not just Shae lore)

Apologies; we are not trying to accuse any asker of being rude! We are simply explaining our perspective as the developers / are trying to broadly encourage folks to dip their toes into other areas of the story outside of the main route(s) they're interested in, especially considering some routes will be made available sooner than others, and these other routes will likely contain additional scenes/lore of everyone's fave(s) regardless! We want to give each main cast member an equal amount of love (and lore) regardless of their overall popularity, so our goal is not to tut-tut anyone for having strong preferences for one character over the others, but rather to explain that you may be surprised by how much *more* you learn about your preferred characters in the other routes. That's all!

For Shae... Well, they were a foot soldier for one of the worst periods of the War. Lore wise, any other story that touches on the War will likely have content relevant to them and their experiences. ^^

[slugandthorn]

Person reading this can you tell me your favorite story and why it was the way that it was.

[beef-brisket]

Adam rolled his eyes: Honestly, you're not even allowed to talk to me... but you fucking have to, so...

Peter: Uh- excuse me? Adam? May I speak with you?

Groaning, Adam stood up and cracked his back before walking over to Peter: Sup Twinkie.

The winner laughed awkwardly: S-Still calling me that, huh?

Glancing behind Adam, Peter's eyes fell to Lucifer, who was still in the doorway, looking at him smugly. It made peter feel very, very, very uncomfortable.

Peter cleared his throat and motioned to Adam to lean down. Once he did, he cupped the bigger man's hand in his.

Peter: That's not... THEE Lucifer, is it?

Adam: Yep. I though Sera would have gotten hold of you.

Peter: Oh! She has. But of course... nothing was explained very well... and she said I would never see him. But here I am. And there he is... and I'm seeing him.

The first man chuckled and patted Peter's hand: It's fine, Pete. He can't do anything. Except be a pain in the ass, which he's living up to.

Peter: Y-Yes well... speaking of. You got home rather late last night. Are you doing alright? It must be hard living with... him.

Adam rolled his eyes: Yeah, he's an asshole. A big asshole. He stole my fucking bitch-.

Peter: Again?

Adam sighed: A-fucking-gain. But I- uh... found someone else to give me what I want. If you catch my meaning, Twinkie~.

Peter blushed madly and covered his face with his hands: A-Adam! What nasty talk!

Lucifer: Ah! You found someone willing to put your dick in them? Well done, buddy!

The first man growled and spun around: First off, I'm not your fucking buddy, second, I very much found someone- and you would loose your fucking shit if you knew who~.

Lucifer glared: Oh yeah? I doubt it.

Adam: Want a fucking bet, asshole?!

Lucifer: Why not! You're all shit, Adam!

Peter covered his ears and quickly flew off inside his house as Adam stormed over to Lucifer. The winner could hear them arguing for nearly two hours. And just when Peter thought it was over, Adam revealed who he spent the night with.

Lucifer: RAPHAEL?! MY FUCKING BROTHER?!

Adam: Oh, he was fucking, alright~.

Peter: L-Lord have mercy.

-

Lucifer: ...Whatchadoing?

Adam glared down at the food he was cooking. He hated that this bastard had to be in the lounge, but was driving Adam nuts.

But after a good yelling session, Adam needs the cards.

Adam: Cooking, blind ass.

Lucifer smirked: Whatcha cookin'?

Adam: Pasta.

The kings eyes widened as Adam poured sound red wine into the pan, that was... interesting. But it also made the smell more intense and come over towards Lucifer.

Lucifer: Hey uh- can I get some of that?

Adam: Some of what? My ass? Sorry "bud", it's already been got.

Lucifer: W-What-?! No! I mean the food!

Adam smirkee: My bitch already made you a good feed. That I had to fucking clean, by the way.

Lucifer smirked: Well, I couldn't clean it~.

Adam: Who would have told Millie to fucking clean it-!

Lucifer: Winnie! You asshole! WINNIE!

Adam shrugged: Who gives a fuck. She's a one time thing.

Lucifer scoffed: For me, maybe.

The king glanced up at Adam when he didn't snap back. Instead, the first man was tapping furiously away at his phone. When he stopped, a ding sounded nearly right away.

Adam smiles: Well, too bad for you, that's all she is, no bitch is lucky enough to get fucked twice and unlike you, I can pull people many, many more times than that~.

Lucifer: ...The fuck are you talking about?

Adam: You've got the lounge to yourself, asshole, I'm gonna go out a get my back blown out~.

The king screwed his face up as Adam plated the pasta: Give me some.

Adam scoffed: You're really making demands in my fucking house? Bitch. You don't get shit.

Hell's Missing the Devil

@beef-brisket

Lucifer wasn't sure if he had heard Sera correctly but the serious tone and look on her face told him that yes she was in fact serious.

Lucifer: I'm sorry.... What?

Sera sighed, she sounded annoyed: We will put an end to the Exterminations and in exchange you will be up in Heaven as a prisoner.

That..... Didn't sound ideal.

But neither were the Exterminations.

He didn't understand, wasn't the whole point of him falling so that he would never see Heaven again? Didn't that defeat the purpose?

Unless...... There was more to it.

Sera: Think about it. Come back here tomorrow when you've made your choice. Make the right choice for once.

He scowled when she left. What a bitch.

Lucifer did think about it and that's when it dawned on him.

With Lilith gone and now Lucifer, Charlie would have to step up and rule Hell. Which meant that she wouldn't have time to run her hotel.

It was underhanded and sneaky..... It was so Heaven.

But by doing this....... He would be saving his daughter too. He didn't trust them not to go after her one day.

Charlie: Dad you can't.

Lucifer: Sweetie, I..... I know this isn't ideal but it's for a greater good.

Charlie teared up: What am I supposed to do without you!?

It was different when he was just holed up in the manor, at least she knew he was safe at home.

But in Heaven? Lucifer was considered a traitor. Who knows what they would do to him.

Lucifer hugged his baby girl tight: Y-you'll be okay...... I love you.

Charlie: ...... I love you too.

She didn't want to let him go. There had to be a way to bring him home.

The next day, Lucifer went to the embassy where Sera was waiting.

Sera: So?

Lucifer sighed, this felt like a mistake but he didn't know what else to do to keep Charlie and their people safe.

Lucifer: Alright.......

Sera: Good.

She snapped her fingers and a pair of silver bracelets appeared on his wrists and Lucifer suddenly felt very drained. They must be blocking his powers.

With another snap, handcuffs with a chain appeared as well, Lucifer walked with his head down through the portal with Sera.

He would have laughed when he heard Peter freaking out. But any amusement left him when Sera said who he would be staying with.

Sera: You'll be under Adam's watch.

It felt ironic in a way.

Lucifer felt like he had been handed a death sentence as Sera handed his chain over to the first man.