#and binge it when it’s over and then i never did and now they’re on like season 11???

[drowsyanddazed]

Jade you watch Druck? I’m screaming, what’s your favorite season?

hi! yes!! my favorite season is season 3 (my favorite in most of the remakes lol) but second favorite is 7/isi (partly bc i rlly love sascha, i think he’s my favorite character in the whole thing). idk if this is an unpopular opinion but third favorite: season 5/nora. i think the writing was the best of all the new gen druck

do wanna mention though i rlly wanted to love season 6/fatou, i saw advertising for it and that’s why i started watching the new gen druck in the first place, but i think maybe i went in with too many expectations? i felt like the pacing was a bit off & while fatou and kieu my had good chemistry, i wish they had more on screen time and they communicated better, probably fourth favorite? (ik you asked for my favorite but i’m giving you up to four <3) put more wlw in skam!!

[irisinluv]

Isekaied as the Yandere Villain!? PT 1

All I could do was stare at my reflection. This had to be a joke. I was going to wake up in my bed, right this instant.

“FUCK!”

Ok, so, pinching myself hurts. That’s fine. This is like. Some sort of lucid dream. What do they say to do if you’re lucid dreaming? Oh, that’s right, put your finger in your palm, it’ll phase through!

I resist the urge to scream as my finger meets solid flesh.

You see, I’m not in the right body. Or the right world from what I can tell. No, I’m supposed to be back home, waking up in a panic as I realize my alarm didn’t go off cuz my phone died after I stayed up way too late reading manga.

But of course, I’m not late to work, I’m in a lavish bedchamber right out of the latest webcomic I’d been reading! And by the looks of it…. I’m the crown princes crazy fiancé! As much as I love reading about the Isekai trope, I never wanted to be in one! And come on- as the Yandere Villain!? Couldn’t this at least be original? There’s hundred of stories just like “my next life as a villainess,” why couldn’t I be like… a stable hand or something? Ugh. Ok. Think!

I need to get home. Do the protagonists ever get back home in the stories I read? I pace around my room and rack my brain over every webcomic I’ve ever read, every manga I waited in line for, every anime I binged, even the unfinished manhwas! I can’t think of a single fucking one where they get home?

Well this isn’t going to stop me. I have a cat who’s going to absolutely flip if she’s not given fresh kibble in the morning. She has enough in her bowl for another 2 days but she needs it topped off ok! She’s a princess! I can’t be stuck here! Who’s going to throw her pompom toy for her if I’m not there???

What did all these have in common? What’s the barebones trope layout? Ok let’s see

1) person either died or falls asleep and wakes up in a new world…. Check

2) person is the villain!…. Check

3) to avoid the characters terrible death, person tries to change the story, ends up being new protagonist…

Ohhh… hey…. Do these Isekai characters ever just…. Play along? Even the “reincarnated as a baby” ones, they only play along till they’re old enough to try to run away or rework the political structure of the entire city. Maybe that’s it. Make it to the books natural end, and you’ll wake up where you belong. It’s like when you get part of a song stuck in your head. Play the whole song, and it’ll get out.

Ok, I’ve trained most of my adult life for this- I can totally ace this trope! I just have to stalk the crown prince, act totally in love with him, and be a bitch to the female lead. Then my finance will leave me, I’ll do some crazy dramatic act to try to kill the female lead, and then I’ll be exiled or executed, and wake up to feed my cat. How hard can it be?

Hard. It’s very hard.

Where the hell did he go!? My fiancé, the crown prince Eric, was JUST HERE. I swear! He turned that corner back there and then went down this hall… at least I think it was this hall? Ugh! This is impossible! For someone with such loud shoes and an armed escort, you’d think he’d be easier to follow! Now my feet just hurt. They don’t make these fancy shoes to run around the castle all day. They’re meant to daintily peek from beneath my many skirts as I host a tea party or some shit.

Ok. I’ve got this! I’ll just peek into each room until I find him, maybe I can get a better feel for the layout, or maybe find his office and see if he has a schedule or a day planner or something I can use to make this whole stalking thing easier.

I begin snooping, and it’s a bit of thrill to be honest! Back in my real life, I’m the kind of person to hide a wrapper deep in the trash can if I’m babysitting, sitting on the floor playing a game on my phone after the kid goes to bed rather than “making myself at home” the way the parents insisted as they showed me how to access Netflix. I’ve never been a snooper. Now…. Well. It’s totally on brand for this character! I’m not me, I’m a psycho lovesick fool! I giggle a bit at that as my fingers trail over a shelf of beautiful pottery in some sort of sitting room.

“What’s so amusing dearest?”

I practically screech as my heart leaps to my throat and I whirl around, and see the very person I’d been searching for has snuck up on ME…. That’s so unfair!

“W-what? O-oh! Nothing! I was just- uh, admiring the pottery?”

I stutter out as I try to recall how to act like a human being while simultaneously trying to stop feeling my own pulse in my ears. The idiot has the nerve to LAUGH! Full on snort and everything!

“What are you doing in this wing anyways? Weren’t you meant to be out riding today?”

Shit. I was so busy trying to figure out his schedule, I didn’t consider maybe the body I was shoved into had a schedule of her own. Ok. Play it cool- I’ve got this!

“Yes, well, I decided I wasn’t in the mood and wanted to stay in today instead.”

His brows furrow

“Oh, but you love riding? Are you feeling ill? I can fetch the royal physician for you if you-“

“No! That’s- that’s quite alright! I simply wanted a change of schedule, that is all. Um… what about you? What are your plans for the day?”

He looked a bit surprised at that, and a small smile danced on his lips.

“I was just going to the library to do some paperwork, boring stuff really, and then of course our dinner at its regular time.”

I nod like that means anything to me. Ok think, if I were crazy in love with this man, what would I say?

“Would you like some company? Reading in the library sounds really nice, maybe we could have some tea as well?”

Ok. I’m already fucking this up. He looks confused…. God damnit …. I knew I shouldn’t have skimmed over those early chapters- but the translation was shit ok!?

“Well… I’d actually love that. But are you sure? You haven’t exactly shown interest in reading, and you’ve never requested something like this before…. In fact I don’t think I can recall the last time we’ve interacted outside of dinner or a scheduled social event in… well. Ever.”

Wait…. What? Isn’t my character like goo-goo-ga-ga over him? Are you telling me she never asks to just… spend time with her lover? They only talk during dinner and parties or whatever?

“Of course, I think it’ll be relaxing! Just lead the way!”

My brain is working overtime as I smile politely at him as we reach the library and I pretend to browse for books. I’m missing something here. What is-

Oh. Shit. That’s right. I’m supposed to be really insecure and awkward about him. That’s why she stalks him- she spends all her free time obsessing over this man from the shadows, threatening the competition…. Yet chokes up when it comes to how to act natural. Her inferiority complex is what drives her entire character. And then to him, they’re just two nobles in an arranged marriage who speak on dull subjects like the weather and horse rides…. And who barely interact.

This must have been a real big shake up, she always stays out of sight, they never run into each other by chance. And she certainly never would ask to sit and read with him…. Maybe watch him do his work from a hidden keyhole somewhere, but that’s right…. She IS more of a traditional lady with her hobbies. She was raised to be the perfect noble wife, so naturally, her hobbies include things like dancing, needlepoint, and horse riding. The only studies she’s interested in are etiquette and things that noble ladies are supposed to know.

Well…. Shit. That’s so like me to already have fucked this up. But that’s ok. That’s ok- he’s going to meet the female lead and fall in love and so I just have to be the obstacle they need to overcome. Surely the details don’t matter too much…. It’s my first day in the job ok? Not everyone’s perfect!

I find a book that honestly actually sounds interesting, it’s historical, but it’s giving Hellen of Troy, the closest to a dark romance I think I’ll get from an academic personal library like this. I settle into what looks like the comfiest chair in the central area, and begin reading. The prince and I exist comfortably, the only sound being the scratch of his pen, and the occasional rustle of paper as he flips a document or I finish a page. We continue like this for several hours until he puts down his pen and clears his throat, getting my attention.

“I know it’s a long way from dinner…. But I was thinking I’d grab something light for a mid day meal and then take a walk about the gardens …. Would you care to join me?”

Honestly, some lunch and pretty royal gardens sounds like so much fun, so I agree. As we begin walking, I ponder how I can recover from all this.

You know what.. this can totally still go to plan. This is just me being the evil villain and sinking my claws into him! The female lead will appear, and I’ll reveal my true, nasty side to her! She’ll have to fight to save the prince from his marriage to me!

*insert evil laughter!*

“You’re smiling.”

“W-what?”

“A smile. It suits you. You’ve been doing that a lot today….. I like it.”

Ok and now I’m blushing. I go to reply when I suddenly find myself weightless for a moment, and then hit the ground with a hard thump.

“Ow! What the-!?”

My eyes snap up and glare at this pretty blonde girl who just rammed into me, and sent me flying

“Do you not know how to watch where you’re going!? Owww…. Ugh.”

Ok I’m sorry I’m usually a nice and understanding person but I’ve never been literally knocked over before! Who does that to a person?

Eric helps me to my feet and sends a reproachful glare toward the girl, asking me if I’m alright with most concerned look…. And the girl gasps and says,

“C-crown prince Eric! I apologize! I’d didn’t recognize you!”

She drops into a curtsy and lowers her eyes all demure and modest as if she hadn’t just bulldozed me. I send an incredulous look toward Eric…. She… didn’t see HIM? I’m the one she took out? He gives me an equally puzzled look and so I decide, you know what, fuck it. I’m this evil person in this world…. I need to act like it!

“And not recognizing his highness is an excuse for taking out the princess consort, soon to be crown princess? Are you blind or just daft?”

Oh my god I really just called someone daft! This feels like when you stay up late thinking all the witty comebacks you could’ve used against your high school bullies, except actually using them in the moment!

And Eric is being a sweetie and letting me handle this, waiting expectantly for blondie to answer me, just prompting her,

“Well?”

“Forgive me…. Princess consort…. You are right. My oversight in inexcusable. It appears neither of us were looking where we were going. I hope we can start fresh!”

I scoff- that’s it? Who does this bitch think she is? Yes, I was looking at Eric, but I was going a walking pace, who rounds a corner with so much force that you knock someone over?

Suddenly something clicks- oh shit! This is the female lead!!!! This scene happened in the story, just without the prince here. This is good, that means this is on track. Although I gotta say- I was much more on the female main characters side when reading it. Now, I just feel like she’s one of those mean girls in high school who’s not *technically* doing anything mean. Anyways- what was I supposed to say? That’s right.

“Yes…. Well. I’m sure we won’t be seeing much of each other anyways. If you’ll excuse me-“

Nailed ittttt…. Now her line?

“Well, actually…. My name is Lady Cressida, and I’ll be staying in the place for several months as my father is a foreign ambassador overseeing trade agreements with his highness the king. So I imagine we will be seeing *plenty* of each other. That goes for you too your highness! So please- forgive me, I look forward to getting to know each of you better!”

Oh that’s so cool, seeing her recite the lines from the story. But ok- I have a role to play as well. I scoff and grab Eric’s arm, pulling him behind me as I storm off, playing the part of entitled lover, stuck up and irritated at this ambassadors daughter who DARED to speak to my love.

Yea, this will work, Eric will think Cressida is a genuine sweetie, and see me as being the unreasonable bitch who’s refusing to accept her apology, or apologize for not looking where I was going either. And now I’m manhandling him- totally unlady like. God I’m killing this aren’t I? Minimum wage job and demanding cat, here I come!

What I don’t see, as I lead Eric by the arm, is the cold glare he shoots towards Cressida, before smiling down at our connected hands, an unreadable look in his eyes.

Part 2

[goldenroutledge]

one in a million

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

word count: 1.5k

summary: fluff. lando’s comfort show is revealed to the world and you only love him more for it.

warning(s): swearing, hannah montana (? lol), max f makes an appearance

a/n: i saw the interview of lando saying to oscar “you’ve never seen hannah montana?” and took that personally. hope you like it <3

lando norris masterlist

“Tell us your comfort show, Lando! What are you binge watching these days?” Max exclaims through the mic, voicing a comment from a fan in the livestream chat.

“Yeah and who has time for that?” Lando retorts, ever sarcastic in his banter with his best friend.

Max chuckles. “Man’s won two races and wants you to believe he’s working around the clock.”

“They keep us very busy, you know! In the simulator, doing media…”

“Mhm. He’s just deflecting from answering, guys. Because if he reveals the true answer Y/n’s probably gonna leave him.”

“Keep her out of this alright? I’m not deflecting from anything.”

“Sure you’re not.” Max muses. It’s apparent that Lando’s secret, a potentially embarrassing one at that, is on the tip of his tongue. He can only assume that the reactions in the chat would be good, but the way he’s toying with Lando right now is great. One of his favorite pastimes by far. “Don’t worry guys, you’re not missing much. His comfort show is not even that good anyway.”

“Stop spreading lies on stream, mate. We’re losing all credibility.”

“Did we ever have any?”

A moment of silence falls over the stream, before both men fall into a fit of suppressed laughter almost in unison, obviously failing at keeping their composure when the jokes are low-hanging fruit.

“But seriously, Max has no idea what he’s talking about. I’m not telling you guys the name of the show, all you need to know is that it has plot, humor, character development… and it’s not even a cartoon!”

“Yet you’re a little too old to be watching it, don’t you think?”

“You’re not being a very true friend, Max. Who said I’m too old to watch it?”

“Not a true friend? Is that what we’re doing?” Max catches on almost immediately to Lando’s quoting of certain song titles in his sentences, giving small hints to the viewers without completely giving it away. “I know you don’t mean that so I’ll forgive you. After all, nobody's perfect.”

“I hope you’re including yourself in that, mate.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m just like you.” Max sings his last three words, imitating the original songstress as best as he could.

“There we go, that’s more like it.” Lando smiles, amused with himself and with the way the chat is speculating who they’re referring to.

“I’m not changing my mind, it’s time for you to move on from that show. Just kiss it goodbye, Lando.”

“Are you the superfan here or am I? Because you’re quoting an awful lot of songs there.”

Max sighs, clearly taking more humor in this than he probably should. But would it be a Max Fewtrell x Lando Norris stream without a good inside joke? “Life’s what you make it, man.”

“It is what you make it. Some may say truer words have never been spoken.” Lando responds thoughtfully, clearly pondering his words. Or he’s at least pretending to.

“The fact that you get your life lessons from that show is concerning. Has anyone guessed it yet?” Max questions, carefully scanning the chat to see if there’s any mention of a certain blonde pop star.

“Well I don’t need them to guess it! If it’s my comfort show then how comforting would it be for everyone to know it?”

“They already know, mate! We’re not exactly subtle!”

“Fine, then we’ll say it on three. Ready?” Lando suggests, before counting down in unison with Max. “1…2…3…Go-fuck-yourself.”

“Hannah Montana!” Max shouts quickly, leaving an eerie silence over the stream as he bursts into laughter once again, nothing short of hysterical. “It’s Hannah Montana!”

Lando blushes slightly, his stoic expression slowly breaking before he begins laughing himself. If anyone watching didn’t know any better, they’d think he’s crying by the way he cups his face in his hands. It only provokes Max’s reaction further. Out of all of their stream moments, it goes without saying that they know there’s no way this isn’t getting clipped.

–

You’re lounging in bed when Lando returns to you from the ensuite bathroom, fresh out of the shower and ready to cuddle up to you after a long day. His heartbeat usually quickens at the sight of you anyway, but especially now as he sees you there in your shared bed. Visibly calm, cozy in one of his t-shirts, and ready to forget about the outside world with him for the night.

You can hardly peel your eyes away from the video playing on your phone, but it’s not hard once his eyes meet yours. You smile at him which is never out of the ordinary, only this time you know something he doesn’t. There’s mischief in your smirk and he immediately catches onto it.

“Congrats babe, you’re viral.” You face your phone towards him so he can see the video of himself from just hours earlier.

He throws his head back in exasperation and sighs dramatically, knowing that his suspicions have been proved correct. The little Hannah Montana moment between him & Max today was definitely clipped and had made its way into your algorithm. Lando throws the covers back and crawls in bed next to you, feeling at least a little bit soothed at the warmth of your body heat compared to the chill down his spine. He watches the video from over your shoulder, fitting in comfortably right beside you.

“I can’t believe he really went there!” You exclaim, with no urge to scroll past the video and see something else. You’d hate to make Lando feel bad, but it does get a little funnier every time.

“I can.” Lando states matter-of-factly. “He’s been holding it over my head ever since my sister let it slip that we watched it all the time growing up.” You giggle, which prompts Lando to defend himself further. “But it’s a good show! If I put on a wig and took on a new persona, my DJ career would’ve taken off by now. She’s a genius if you think about it. I mean I can’t be the only one who understands, right?”

“You’re not.” You murmur comfortingly, chastely kissing his jaw. “That show is a classic. Don’t let Max bully you into not liking it anymore. I love that you can appreciate good television when you see it, even if it’s Hannah Montana.”

“So you’re not leaving me?” Lando echoes Max’s words from earlier and beams with joy, putting an end to the pout he was putting on for dramatic effect.

“And let him win? Never.” You tease. “And you know why else I’m not?”

He breaks your gaze momentarily, feeling like his heart will turn to mush after you say what’s on your mind. If he’s honest with himself, it always does. “Why else are you not, Y/n?”

“Because you, Lando Norris, are one in a million. Hannah’s words.”

He sighs and smiles wide before giving you a proper kiss. It’s full of gratitude that you always play along, that you always flatter him until he’s blushing but most of all, for just being you. For never being embarrassed by him or hesitating to love him back the way he loves you, cheesy song lyrics be damned.

“Should we watch an episode?”

Lando rests his chin in the nape of your neck and caresses you gently. Moments like these are what makes the distance so agonizing, because you crave nothing more than to be with each other like this again. It’s what brings you back home to each other always, no matter what the coordinates say.

“Sure, baby.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder, trusting your judgment as you scroll through the episodes. Maybe you hadn’t seen them as often as Lando had, but they were fond childhood memories you held also. “Just not the Blue Jeans one!”

You give him a puzzled look, silently asking him to refresh your memory and explain himself.

“You know, Blue Jeans. Her horse? He gets bitten by a snake and almost dies. It’s too sad, we can’t watch that one unless I’m prepared for it, which I am not.”

“But he was okay in the end right?”

“Yeah, but he didn’t deserve what happened to him!” Lando emphasizes and you can hear the stress in his voice as he recalls the memory. “I didn’t think he was gonna recover, it’s a miracle that he did.”

You hum in agreement, amused by his passion. “Don’t worry my love, there are plenty of other episodes to choose from. I know that one is sensitive for you.”

“Promise you won’t make fun of me for it?” Lando teases, lightening the mood from his depressing story about an injured horse on TV.

You pause for a few moments, pretending to weigh your options. “Build me a closet like Hannah’s and you have a deal.” Lando smirks, picturing the image instantly. It was nothing short of a fashion lover’s dream, with shoes along the walls from top to bottom and clothes displayed in a colorful carousel.

He places a kiss on your temple, and then several behind your ears and down your neck to your shoulder, drawing your attention away from the television screen and back to him. He doesn’t really have to pause and think about it. Maybe he’s not always poetic with his words, but he knows in his heart that no gesture is too grand for you. “Consider it done.”

a/n 💌: reblogs, comments & feedback is greatly appreciated! thanks for reading <3

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || SPECIAL SHORT STORY ||

paring(s) -> ATEEZ x reader warning(s) -> SUGGETIVE note -> HAPPY HALLOWEEN !!

y/n’s perspective

“I really wonder how they’re older than I am,” Jongho said as I laughed. San and Wooyoung were arguing about what I should dress for Halloween, which was a bit silly since they fought against putting cat ears or fox ears on my head. 

Yeosang just smiled at their stupid behavior… mainly with evil intent because he and Seonghwa already agreed on my outfit and had it in their room away from the two fighting. 

“y/n-nie why not a dog–” “SHUT UP YOU OVERGROWN WOLF!” Woosan yelled at Mingi, who, at the sudden shout and growls, hid behind Yunho who only laughed at the sight.

“Why does it matter anyway? The two of you have the matching couple outfit” Yunho pointed out and the two glared at him. “Aren’t you going as a spider?” San said and Wooyoung laughed. “What a pathetic outfit–” “y/n! They're mean!” Yunho yelled while now going towards me on the couch hugging my waist and placing his head on my lap. 

“Let them handle their immaturity themselves,” Seonghwa added as Hongjoong laughed beside him. The only ones who knew about the Halloween outfit were the two tigers and Mastermind doberman. 

“y/n I’m your first hybrid–” “I knew her longer!” The two argued and I sighed. While looking at the trio who only looked away from me wanting to enjoy their fight more. 

“You like my costume right?” Yunho pouted and I smiled. He was going to be dressed as spiderman. In a normal outfit with the one piece suit under the clothes to reveal in a dramatic fashion. “Of course I do!” I said and he smiled and wagged his tail. 

“I want to dress as Spiderman!” Yunho came over to yell happily. “Oh?” I asked knowing where this was going… Since he got into video games he’s also gotten into comics, especially Spiderman comics. It was… cute seeing the big golden retriever wag his tail happily while reading a comic or even watching anything Spiderman related in front of the TV.  “But I thought we were gonna do a matching outfit!” Mingi asked, pouting at the older canine hybrid who signed at his friend’s distress. “You can be venomous?” he asked and Mingi scoffed. “That stupid alien, no thanks” he pouted and Yunho really really really wanted to be dressed as the superhero. “Mingi… you don’t have to match with Yunho? You can be anything you want that maybe Yunho wouldn't dress as anyway?” I asked and his mind went blank. “I don’t know! I just know I would rather have Jongho threaten me than be dressed as a stupid alien” he said and I laughed. For some reason… his irrational fear from Jongho yelling at him that one time traumatized him for life. “Oh! Let me and Yeosang choose!” Yunho said and he looked at his friend skeptical.  “Don’t dress me stupid?” “I promise!

Mingi… Well, his outfit did end up being picked by Yeosang and Yunho… While Yeosang liked to tease the wolf… Yunho was absolutely serious about what they ended up choosing. Yeosang laughed at the princess outfit he chose… but Yunho told me to buy it happily and with his eyes sparkling that I couldn’t say no.  So I said to myself I'd take Mingi to choose his outfit instead but I didn’t expect his reaction to simply smile softly at Yunho and say it was perfect. Truthfully… When Yunho pulled it out everyone was shocked he was being serious and even laughed until Mingi spoke up and said he loved it when everyone then had to pretend they never thought of it as a joke.  So Mingi was gonna be a pink princess with a tiara and everything for Halloween with his canine best friend as spiderman… how truly opposites they were. 

“y/nnie! y/nnie! I wanna dress up with Sannie!” Woyoung yelled excitedly when he heard we were celebrating this year. He grinned and looked at so many costumes while he simply let him choose what they would be. Until he found something… Harry potter. While it was now fall Harry potter was now back in season in which he and San binged it all.  And then… they found sorting quizzes… “HOW THE HELL ARE YOU A SLYTHERIN?!” Wooyoung yelled when he saw the words Slythern in the sorting quiz that San took. He was sure he would’ve been a Hufflepuff but no… he made the panther take so many quizzes until each time it was Slytherin.  Wooyoung of course was a Gryffindor.  So the two were dressing up as mages… but for some reason when it came to asking me what I would wear, I was gonna tell them Yeosang and Seonghwa said they have an outfit for me… that they got too excited and cut me off saying I should be a hybrid this year. Which I thought of as dehumanizing at first but the two were so excited I figured out it was primal for them… it's like when San put me in Wooyoung’s collar that one time. They wanted to see in a… different way. 

“Halloween? I hate the holiday” Hongjoong said when he saw the Halloween decorations Wooyoung mass ordered. “Hmm? Is it because of the…” I trailed and he nodded. I was gonna say he didn’t have to celebrate when Seonghwa came into the living room where he also saw the decorations. “Oh, are we celebrating? Are we also dressing up?” he asked, actually excited with his tail swishing behind him. “Huh? Oh, Wooyoung and San so far have taken the intuitive approach and ordered their outfits already, while I know Yuno and Mingi are thinking about theirs "I said and Soenghwa nodded while looking at Hongjoong.  “Should we dress up? Maybe we can match?” he asked his fellow tiger who chuckled and reluctantly agreed. “Ok, why not?” he asked as I was confused at his sudden acceptance. “If it makes you uncomfortable–” “It's fine really… the circus can ruin everything about my life,” he said and I smiled at his sudden response.  “Circus? Hmm… we can even dress up as clowns” he laughed and I was shocked he said that while even Hongjoong laughed. “I’d want to be something scarier than a clown”  he suggested so why did we end with their suggestions…  Hongjoong wanted to be a pirate of all things which also wasn't scary like he said… while Seonghwa, I think he’s been online too much and showed me the sudden phenomenon of hot men behind the Ghost Face mask and wanting to be Ghost Face… I’d be lying if I didn’t find it a bit attractive. 

“Yeosang said that I’m like Gloomy Bear and that I should dress up as him?” Jongho said and I didn’t want to laugh. I really didn’t… but Yeosnag hex to have been joking when he suddenly said that.  Then again… he is a bear hybrid with an obsession with fruit. While gloomy is a domesticated bear with a love for pomegranates.  “It's a pink bear Jongho,” I said and he scoffed. “So he was making fun of me again,” he said but signed and huffed. “I guess I'll do it… I have nothing else to dress up as and I don’t wanna be a vampire like Seonghwa-hyung was suggesting” he said and I smiled.  He respected Yeosang the most… so he decided on doing hybrid safe fur paint while simply being gonna wear white clothing with a blood platter, a simple outfit, and effortless. 

“How did you get Seonghwa to agree to you doing this?” I asked and Yeosang smirked. He wanted to be a wolf… while he was a canine hybrid he wanted to be dressed as the Big Bad Wolf. In simple black clothing while adding gray spray paint to his ears and tail with a pink bonnet on his head. It was cute when you didn't see his face… which he was gonna add fake blood on his canine teeth and face while wanting to dress me up as Red Riding Hood.  Seonghwa took charge with Yeosang to find me an outfit while he suggested something sexier. Yeosang also liked the primal aspect of it and bribed Seonghwa with something he still won’t tell me.  All to be matching with me as Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf.

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

[dumbseee]

rumours, part two.

part one.

jude bellingham x influencer!reader.

fc: nailea devora.

_

groupchat: it girls 💕

larray:

ain’t no way you’re dating jude fucking bellingham and haven’t told us

y/n:

larry istg i’ll cut your hair in your sleep if you keep believing those DUMB rumours

oliviarodrigo:

girl

he’s hot asf why don’t you shoot your shot?

y/n:

with a footballer?

hell fucking no

these guys don’t know what being faithful to one person means

and i’ve heard plenty of shit about this jude guy

larray:

yeah me too tbh

y/n:

i’m not getting involved with him, period.

larray:

okay but what about his teammates?

y/n:

larry.

larray:

DO IT FOR ME

_

liked by judebellingham, yourbestie, larray and 789 928 others.

y/n: girls night 🥂

_

fan1: JUDE LIKED???

fan2: is she lying to us?? bc why would he like her posts now?

fan3: I JUST CHECKED AND HE’S FOLLOWING HER NOW TOO

fan4: maybe she lied to protect their privacy?? that would make sense tbh

fan5: you look so good 😍

fan6: she’s such a baddie omg, jude i get it now

fan7: didn’t know who she was before the whole jude drama but omg i love her

fan8: LEAVE JUDE ALONE YOU FREAK

fan9: petition for jude’s groupies to leave y/n alone

fan10: MOTHER

fan11: y/n please do another grwm i’m obsessed with your videos

fan12: how to be like her, she’s hot asf and has THEE jude bellingham at her feet

view all comments.

_

insta dms:

y/n:

wtf is wrong with you?

i told you to tell your fangirls to leave me alone and what are you doing? you LIKE my posts and you follow me now?

leave me alone, jude.

judebellingham:

you looked good

you always look good*

are you free, tomorrow night?

y/n:

can’t you READ?

LEAVE. ME. ALONEEEEE.

or i’m pressing charges on you hoe.

judebellingham:

so it’s a yes?

i’ll send you the tickets and my jersey, someone will come pick you up, what’s your address?

y/n:

wtf

what do you mean?

judebellingham:

we’re playing against sevilla and i want you to come

y/n:

we don’t even know each other tf??

is that how you get all those girls to get obsessed with you?

that ain’t gonna work with me, boy.

judebellingham:

hm, i like you already.

y/n:

well, i hate you.

judebellingham:

haha

turns me on, love it.

y/n:

i am BLOCKING you

_

i hate him. i fucking hate him. who does he think he is? making me come see him to his stupid game, what am i, his mother? seriously i could’ve stayed at home, binge-watching the twilight movies like i do every year. now i have to go to his fucking football game, it’s going to be so nosy, damn it. and before you ask me, YES i am getting ready and i am wearing his jersey. not because i want to, but i know that i won’t hear the end of it if i don’t do it. yeah, i’m doing it because he’s forcing me, no other reason.

like jude said, someone did pick me up to take me to the bernabeu stadium, and i can’t believe i’m doing this. the venue is full of fans wearing either their real madrid jerseys or their sevilla jerseys. i can see men, women, kids, elderly people, they’re all here to have fun and support their favourite team and i have to admit that it’s a cute sight. let’s just hope that they don’t kill each other’s at the end of the match. i’m quickly escorted to the vip section, where friends, family and important people would seat for the game.

"oh my god, is that y/n?" a voice called from behind, i closed my eyes shut, fuck, and walked faster, i should’ve wore a mask to hide my face. if anyone picture me in this stadium with that motherfucker’s jersey on, it would end my career and i’m half exaggerating.

thank god, the vip section was secluded from the other people. the game started and i had to admit that it was fun to watch when you weren’t really supporting anyone. no stress, just having fun watching men run after a ball, just like dogs. jude was actually good, i never looked him up on the internet to watch his performances, i just knew he was the internet’s favourite whore and girls were thirsting over him. he was good looking, of course, no one could deny that, but more than anything he was annoying as fuck. i surprised myself, cheering for him when he scored a goal, what was wrong with me.

real madrid was actually leading the game with two goals against one. jude’s teammate passed the ball to him and he scored his third goal of the match. okay now, why did this motherfucker just point at the crowd, more specifically towards me? people turned around to see where he was pointing at, but thankfully they couldn’t see me. my heart definitely sank when he did that though, seriously what is wrong with this guy! it was a cute gesture, yes, but we weren’t dating and i promised myself to never date an athlete, tried it once and promised to never doing it again. jude was everything i hated in a man, he was reckless, cocky, full of himself and he knew he was hot. nothing worse than a guy who knows he’s handsome.

_

"how was i?" he asked, this big smile plastered on his face, i wish i could tear it off his face. "fine, i guess." jude made a weird face and put his hands on his hips. "fine? y/n, i was more than fine and you know it, scored three goals and they were all for you." he blew me a kiss and i swore i was about to knock him out. "yeah about that, someone could’ve seen me!" i said, slapping his arm, making him laugh. "darling, that’s what i wanted." okay, the way he was looking at me may or may have not made my heart skip a beat. "jude, i’m starting to believe that the fans gaslighted you into thinking we’re already dating." he laughed, making my cheeks heat up just a bit. "i just want to give the fans what they want to see." he shrugged and put his arm around my shoulders to start walking out of the changing room. i imediatly pushed his arm away and speed walked in front of him to hide my red cheeks. of course, the bitch was laughing at me, running to catch me and poking my cheeks to mock me. "aww, you’re blushing? i thought you hated me, darling." i put my hands on my cheek. "fuck you! it’s just hot in here!" "it’s literally minus two degrees, y/n."

_

liked by judebellingham, jobebellingham, oliviarodrigo and 890 918 others.

y/n: maybe football isn’t so bad 🙄

_

judebellingham: like the view? 👀

y/n: shut up.

fan1: SHE POSTED JUDE???

fan2: Y/N DID YOU LIE TO US???

y/n: WE’RE JUST FRIENDS GUYS OMG

judebellingham: for now* 🫢

y/n: jude istg…

fan3: OMGBSJSOSLSLMDMSLZ WTF

fan4: i am literally shitting bricks what the FUCK

fan5: i love the banter lmao they’re fun

fan6: i ship it tbh

fan7: y/n being a wag for 2024 omg

fan8: i love how she’s fighting it but we all know how it’s going to end

fan9: Y/N NOOOOOO NOT A FOOTBALLER

oliviarodrigo: well, well, well 👀

y/n: please not you too

larray: will you look at THAT

y/n: LARRY SHUT UP IM BEGGING

fan10: lmaoo even her friends are ratting her out

fan11: #savey/n

view all comments.

_

insta dms:

y/n:

ARE YOU KIDDING ME

DID YOU REALLY DM POP BASE TO TALK ABOUT US???

judebellingham:

mmh, i don’t know what you’re talking about

y/n:

jude bellingham.

judebellingham:

okay maybe i did

BUT I DIDN’T KNOW THEY’D RAT ME OUT LIKE THAT

y/n:

FOR FUCK’S SAKE

judebellingham:

anyways it’s not a big deal tbh

are you free tonight?

y/n:

no.

judebellingham:

nice, i’ll come pick you up at 9 <3

y/n:

are you BLIND?

i said no bitch

judebellingham:

suddenly i can’t read.

_

liked by judebellingham, larray, sabrinacarpenter and 901 927 others.

y/n: get you a man who eats his spaghettis with his hands 😍

_

judebellingham: i wonder who is this gentleman 🫢

y/n: yeah i wonder too 🙄

fan1: pls not jude carrying y/n’s purse

fan2: they’re so cute stop

fan3: my favourite couple

fan4: PARENTS

fan5: lmao i bet jude is the one who begged her to be his gf

y/n: yes.

fan6: JAISOSPXLD’´S

view all comments.

[lizardsfromspace]

What's the worst thing about fandom in the last 20 years, and what's the worst thing about fandom that's always been true of it?

The worst thing about fandom in the last 20 years has been the incentivizing of fandom-as-conflict: not merely as a field in broader culture wars but as the field for endless intra-group battles.

This manifests in many ways: as seven hour videos complaining about The Last Jedi, as Twitter backlash campaigns, but also as stans defending their faves from any and all criticism real or imagined, as the endless boom-and-backlash cycle to any fandom meme or joke you see on Reddit, and as the drive for people to look for evidence other people discussing a thing they like are hysterical illiterate dolts, before anything else.

Or, in other words: a lot of fandoms are full of assholes these days, whose main interaction with fandom is using it as a reason to be an asshole, and to defend being an asshole. The actual “fandom” part of fandom no longer really exists for them. The discourse more or less is their fandom; someone whose main fandom activity is sharing videos about how Steven Universe is a fascist (?) isn’t in the Steven Universe fandom, they’re in the videos about how Steven Universe is a fascist (?) fandom. I mean, the chief fandom for many people is their side in the fandom war. What type of fanfic you write is secondary to what your affiliations are vis-a-vis battles over fanfiction

(One trend I've noticed is people who aren't at the stage where they only talk about what they hate and not what they love, but are at the stage where they can only talk about what they love in relation to what they hate. "I love this movie...and it proves this other movie is bullshit made by a hack". No ability to say just "I love this movie", period, end of sentence. This is how like two-thirds of Film Twitter talks about film, the remainder are all the grindhouse people going "man you've GOT to see Wrong Turn 5")

Another one, that I think is related, is that fandom’s become...more transitory, maybe? There’s Big Fandoms that are inescapable and then everything else feels like it’s here for a weekend and then it’s gone. And we’ve always had fandoms that endure and fandoms that vanish quickly, when the show runs short or turns out to be bad/boring, but we did use to have a lot of enduring if small fandoms for Okay shows most people hadn’t heard of and now you don’t really. Or they burn themselves out fast.

So we’ve reached this stage where fandoms are either so big they have seven hour long discourse videos, or they’re a smattering of fanart over the course of two weeks last August. But that isn’t really the fault of fans so much as modern media release schedules.

A lot of fandom activities of old are just...impossible now, with many shows? The slow build of speculation and fan works and in-jokes and theorizing and analysis simply can’t exist in a world where the premiere comes out the same day as the finale, and you can’t talk about the finale because you have no way of knowing if the person you’re talking to binged it all in one weekend or is still on episode four. That was the kind of thing that sustained the fandom of something that wasn’t a big hit, or even something that was. My fave fandom experience ever was watching the online Lost fandom wildly theorizing for all six years of Lost, and we’d never get “and what if the Smoke Monster is a dinosaur but only the head?” under a Netflix release model. Now at a base level, we either have shows nobody can discuss because nobody’s sure who’s seen or what, or shows where everyone just discusses the finale right away, and where you get One Week of Show and then a massive hiatus, which either kills all momentum or...drives fandom in the direction of hyper-analyzing everything and fighting because, well, what else is there to do? And that plus the outrage cycles of social media plus the fact that “man who yells at Star Wars” is now a viable career choice result in, well. *gestures upwards* All that

(Really, shout out to Cartoon Network for engineering the Steven Universe fandom to Be Like That through their inscrutable strategy of dropping episodes during one random week every five months or whatever)

As for something that's always been with it...cliques and a certain fannish elitism, like, that sees engaging with media in a fandom sense as more creative or analytical or intelligent than your average person. You see it now in the form of, like, people holding up fanfic above published fiction as more representative or authentic (I’ve seen more than one post on here strongly implying queer rep doesn’t exist in mainstream non-fic storytelling???), or going “well, we think about shows, unlike those normies watching sports”. But that was probably way more pronounced a thing in the past, in the 40-50s sci-fi fans were calling non-fans "mundanes" and calling themselves "slans" as an in-group signifier (a reference to a book with superintelligent psychic mutants known as slans). Like at the very least we should be happy no one’s calling non-fans “muggles” anymore. In the evolution from “mundane” to “muggle” to “normie” normie’s probably the least bad one

[unboundprompts]

Hey! I love your prompts and I was wondering if you had something for angst no comfort. Person A is depressed and very deep in the hole (physically can't recognize themselves, confusion, maybe hallucinations?) But they never tell anybody about it and they try and hide it like "oh, I binge watched a show" when asked why they look so tired. Person B is super silly and is obvious/chooses to believe them

Thank you so much!!

Angst No Comfort Prompts (ft. Oblivious Friend)

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

"You look exhausted. You okay?" Person B’s tone is casual, light, as they glance at Person A’s hollow eyes and pale face.

Person A forces a weak smile, trying to look convincing. "Yeah, just stayed up binge-watching some show. You know how it is."

Person B laughs, shaking their head. "Classic. I knew you’d get hooked. What was it this time? Another murder mystery?"

Person A’s smile falters for a fraction of a second. "Something like that," they mutter.

Person B doesn’t notice how their hands tremble as they clutch their coffee cup, or how their eyes dart toward the shadows in the corners of the room.

"Hey, you spaced out there for a second."

Person B snaps their fingers in front of Person A’s face, jolting them back to reality. A sickly feeling of déjà vu lingers, like they’ve been drifting in and out of this same fog for days.

"Oh… sorry," Person A mumbles, rubbing their eyes. "Just… tired, I guess."

Person B grins. "Let me guess—another Netflix marathon?"

Person A forces a laugh. "Yeah, you know me."

But Person A doesn’t mention the way the world seemed to melt at the edges just moments ago, or how sometimes they aren’t sure if they’re awake or dreaming.

"Why don’t you ever want to hang out anymore?"

There’s a hint of hurt in Person B’s voice, but Person A barely hears it over the static buzzing in their head.

"I’ve just… been busy," Person A replies, swallowing the tightness in their throat. "Work's been crazy."

Person B huffs, rolling their eyes. "You’re such a workaholic. I’m coming over with takeout tomorrow. You need some fun."

Person A’s heart sinks. They can already feel the panic creeping in, the dread at the thought of having to fake normalcy for a whole evening.

"Yeah, sounds great," they lie, trying not to let their voice crack.

"Did you eat anything today?"

Person B asks casually as they rummage through the fridge. They don’t see the way Person A’s face pales at the question, don’t notice the empty bottles of water and little else on the counter.

"Oh, uh, I grabbed something earlier," Person A says, hoping it sounds convincing. "I’m not really hungry right now."

Person B nods, unfazed. "Good, because I’m starving. Want me to make you a plate anyway?"

Person A shakes their head, their stomach twisting with nausea at the thought of food. But they smile, and it’s only a little strained. "I’m good. You enjoy."

The couch cushions are lumpy from days of neglect. Person A sits in the same spot, knees drawn up to their chest, wrapped in the same blanket they’ve been using for a week. The TV is on, but the sound is low, and their gaze is fixed somewhere beyond the screen. Their phone vibrates on the coffee table, and they blink as if the sound has traveled to them from a great distance.

"You’re still watching that?"

Person B flops onto the other end of the couch, reaching for the remote. Person A forces a chuckle, dry and thin.

"Guess I got hooked."

Person B doesn’t notice the emptiness in Person A’s eyes or the way their fingers twitch restlessly against the fabric of the blanket.

The coffee cup rattles slightly as Person A sets it on the counter, their hand slipping on the smooth ceramic. The liquid sloshes over the rim, pooling on the countertop. They watch it spread slowly, their mind drifting.

"Whoa, you okay?"

Person B’s hand reaches out to steady the cup, wiping up the spill with a quick swipe of their sleeve.

"Yeah. Just… clumsy today," Person A mumbles, lips barely curving upward.

Person B grins, giving them a playful nudge. "You need more coffee, not less."

Person A manages a laugh, though it catches in their throat like a splinter.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

I also have a Patreon! Become a member to gain access to a Member's Only Community where you can chat and message other members and myself. Also gain access to my personal writing, which includes completed short stories, chapters from novels in progress, as well as completed scenes.

[creative-robot]

I know The Founders Cut, generally, is the edited scrubbed over version of genloss from Showfall in-universe (as well as a not-8-hour-long-three-stream-binge-night whenever we want to watch it again) but something that struck me as odd and I haven’t seen anyone mention yet, is this warning

It shows up right at the junction where the third act starts, where it appears the Hero is breaking free of Showfall thanks to Hetch. But here’s the thing, while a LOT less than the previous acts the audience still played a significant role in this act, even when really only given two audience interaction choices. Which makes me wonder, how real is this warning, and who is it for? Obviously the audience involved knows what happens past this point, but the audience is also implied to be an integral part of the Social Experiments, which is part of why things start to tweak out when the Founder removes them in the Founder Cut as the Generation Loss generation loses.

My first thought, was that obviously this is another bait and switch, a way to draw the audiences attention, seeing something that’s secret, something that’s not “meant for them”, which is a tactic I could see Showfall using in universe to keep people’s attention and add an air of mystery to their shows.

But

Showfall is doing all their experiments and these shows with a LOT of help from their censors to show it off, displaying a fun silly show that is definitely not uber fucked up and that is 100% just slime don’t worry about it, it’s kid friendly if it’s green! And I don’t think they’d want to bet all their cards on this one experiment doing well enough to their audience to not question the sudden shift in tone that follows this warning. Which makes me wonder.

They did their test, they did their experiment, and the evidence of this last act? I think it was a one time run, they don’t want anyone seeing this, it isn’t for the audience. Act three is specifically to both test and play with their Hero, Hetch’s new lines add a level to this, never once does he call the Hero by their name, just refers to Ranboo as their Role, and he’s not exactly. Nice? About literally any of Ranboos concerns, which wouldn’t really seem conductive to making an audience trust him, especially with his monologue at the end. Ranboo has escaped before, possibly right before act 1 started, they tightened the security on his mask to be unremovably part of them, Hetch doesn’t like the Hero but they’re a fan favorite so he can’t just get rid of them.

Act three is the cumulation of Ranboo being punished for things they don’t remember, for daring to break free from Showfalls control, this is Hetch taking the Hero and essentially majorly fucking and manipulating them to take his frustration out on a fan favorite they can’t otherwise get rid of or give a smaller role like Slimecicle. which is exemplified by the fact that we now know Charlie most likely was never able to actually able to fully snap out of the control, that even in act three in panic and confusion there was at least still a part of him being influenced by Showfall.

So the first two acts are the usual show, they have their posters, they have Squiggles to introduce them, they have goofs and silliness and only a couple slip ups that’re quickly dealt with, the usual rose tinted curtains. Act three?

Do not watch the following material

[the-artist-grimm]

Sooo, I kinda binge read all of your CoTL au, and forgive me if I missed anything, but do your lamb and Narinder ever make-up and work things out? Or more specifically, does Lamb ever forgive Narinder?

They do make up eventually! They just gotta work out other issues first.

The first few months the Lamb basically ignores Narinder and leaves him in the care of an elderly follower who typically takes on ‘troubled’ newbies. Anthea’s tired, they’re confused, they’re grieving Aym and Baal since during their time as vessel they essentially became like a second parent to them, and they’re hurt because for the first time in their life Anthea wanted something. They wanted to tell Narinder their feelings, they wanted to maybe start some sort of life together, like the lamb had never considered having a future out of the guilt of being the survivor, so finally letting themselves indulge that selfish wish just for it to crumble? Did he think so little of them, that an out of context conversation was enough to push him away? Forget him not respecting their privacy deal by listening in-that stung the most. Anthea puts their grief in a box and throws themselves into cult-leader/new god stuff to try and not have time to dwell outside of nightly visits to the graveyard to cry over their family and the twins’ graves. 

Meanwhile Narinder immediately regrets everything after the two of them have a massive argument that first moment he appeared on the indoctrination stone-he realizes he jumped the gun, is now down two children and the person he’d fallen in love with now refuses to so much as look at him. Nona, the elderly deer woman he’d been placed into the care of alongside the Knucklebones Gang as Anthea's parental figures quickly figure out the whole situation is just miscommunication and are trying to get him to just tell the lamb plainly ‘You were doing the exact same thing my siblings did before they betrayed me, I'm sorry I was scared-’, but its kinda hard to do when the lamb just avoids him. Plus he’s thinking he’s earned what he’s got. 

Aym and Baal getting revived is what kickstarts them slowly talking again. When Anthea gets the necklaces from the seller the lamb has no clue how to use them, so they go to Narinder with basically ‘We’re both at fault for their deaths, you’re at the graves as much as me mourning, I’ll put aside everything just please HELP ME’. And he does. Perfectly. Its been 4 months and Anthea’s having a really hard time justifying their anger since he’s been behaving the whole time, and when it comes to the twins only speaks in regards to resurrecting them, works on things/loses sleep preparing the ritual when the lamb has cult things to do, and when an old failsafe left by Shamura activates during the ritual itself he runs to the lambs side to help keep them steady as they break through it. They’re still hurt, but they do realize that they’re being a bit of a jerk ignoring him like this.

The twins also don’t come back mentally ok. Their deaths/the resurrection leaves both with pretty bad PTSD and separation anxiety (they’re like 11-12 they’re too young for all of this), and especially at night the twins alternate between needing Anthea, Narinder, or both nearby to sleep since despite Narinder’s denial he’s their dad 100%, and the Lamb is basically the twins’ maternal parent. It was Anthea being so good with the kits that got them to become friends at first, and it's the kits that slowly help them to be that again. 

It still takes time for them both to be ready to sit down and just explain where their heads were at that day. As Anthea frees the bishops and gets their sides of the story they realize just how much their behavior mirrored the bishops’ prior to their betrayal of Narinder and how much of their behavior in a way mirrors Shamura themself, the ‘oldest sibling’ giving pieces away till nothing was left and they snapped (Anthea never reached that point, but Shamura did with jumping the gun on imprisoning Narinder. Lives of the many over the one with potential to be a risk), and Narinder needs to come to terms with how his imprisonment came to be/make amends with his siblings.

They DO make up after a little over a year, and after everything kinda falls back into place. Things are different sure, but they love each other too much to hold back anymore.

(Love how this AU has become half miscommunication since this pantheon has no clue how to talk to each other, and the other half is the Lamb accidentally adopts two kittens with Narinder before they suddenly have a weird gotta share the kids despite the divorce arc)

[apricotgojo]

—★ wrong number ! s.g

summary: an au in which college nerd!Satoru accidentally sends nudes to the wrong person - you!

tags: NSFW, big dick gojo, college au ! , gojo is a hot loser in this, kind of a crack au too, swearing, eventual smut <.<, mentions of substance abuse.

—★

[idiot #1] guys 🧍🏼‍♂️

[idiot #1] i did an oopsie

[idiot #1] HELP

[idiot #1] NOW

[idiot #1] PLS

[idiot #2] ??

[idiot #2] it is 3am

[idiot #1] i fuckwd uppp

[idiot #2] whats new

[idiot #1] stfuuu im serious sug

[idiot #1] imso akmakama

[idiot #2] words pls

[idiot #1] i sent nudes to the wrong person

[idiot #2] 💀

[idiot #2] COMMON SATORU L

[idiot #1] i hate u

[idiot #2] HOW AND WHO

[idiot #1] i was supposed to send it to a number and i think i she gave it to mw wrong idk im freaking ouyt

[idiot #2] so ur telling me

[idiot #2] u sent nudes

[idiot #2] on imessage

[idiot #1] yes?

[idiot #2] youve never sent nudes before have u

[idiot #1] …

[idiot #2] HAHAHHAHAHHHAHAHHH

[idiot #2] bro for a astrophysics major ur dumb as fuck

[idiot #1] I HATW YOU

[idiot #1] *HATE :(

[idiot #2] who were u gonna send them to tho 👀

[idiot #1] Yume 🧍🏼‍♂️

[idiot #2] say sike rn

[idiot #1] bro i went up to her at sukunas party and she told me that if i send her a nude then she’ll go out w me idk i was high

[idiot #1] n i think she wrote her number wrong

[idiot #2] im gonna hold ur hand when i say this

[idiot #2] you got played

[idiot #1] fuck

[idiot #1] fUCK

[idiot #1] i sent a video instead too

[idiot #1] my face doesnt show tho js my dick

[idiot #2] OH GOD

[idiot #2] WHAT DID THW OTHER PERSON SAY ?

[idiot #1] well

a cock was on your screen.

a huge, veiny, somewhat pretty, cock was on your phones screen as it laid across the floor to where you’ve thrown it.

when you saw an imessage notification saying:

[video attached] ;)

from an unknown number - your first thought was that it was some type of scam, since recently everyone and their mom has been receiving shady text messages from unknown numbers.

so you ignored it and went back to bed rotting and binge watching ‘Gilmore Girls’.

You were also still high from the joint you shared with your dorm mate, Shoko, and perhaps that could’ve been a factor as to why all of a sudden a little voice popped inside your head and told you to open the message.

Something told you that this wasn’t a scam - if it was, they would usually use a foreign number or pretend to be a local bank asking you to confirm your card details via fucking imessage.

but this number was a local one, so the thought of it being a scam subsided - although it was still in the back of your mind.

you tapped on the notification and you’ve been faced with a video attachment and a winky face.

The thumbnail was of a males lower torso, wearing a black compression shirt and baggy grey sweatpants. The male seemed to be in a dimly lit room and the only source of light shining on him was either from a computer screen or a TV.

You press play on the video and instantly you realize that this was definitely one of those lame jumpscare videos where as soon as the subject pulls down his pants, some form of demon appears on the screen.

with furrowed brows you watch as the video starts, instantly noting the faint music in the background - the song was familiar to you, it sounded like it was ‘The Weeknd’.

-‘okay, taste’ you mentally note.

Your eyes instantly dart down to the mans lower half, your eyes oogling the imprint of what you assumed to be his dick through his grey sweatpants.

‘fake as fuck’ you mutter out loud.

a pale, veiny hand reaches over to play with the waistband of his sweatpants in a teasing manner - long fingers hooking around it and slowly moving across.

you couldn’t help the little smirk forming on your lips as you prepared for the inevitable jumpscare that was going to display across the screen and you waited patiently - curious to see what they’re going to show.

a deep sigh comes from the male in the video as his other hand moves to palm his ‘cock’.

you could see his muscles twitch beneath his compression shirt and your eyes scanned across his figure.

whoever the guy in the video was - he was really fucking hot.

well, at least his body was.

His two big hands were now on the waistband of his sweatpants and your body tensed up to prepare for the demon to pop out on the screen and ruin the fun.

until it didn’t.

and as he pulled down the waistband something did jump out.

his cock.

it sprung out of his sweatpants.

and you screamed and threw your phone across the room.

you were not expecting that - not one bit.

who the fuck would send you that?

you place a hand on your chest to feel just exactly how hard your heart is beating - practically booming in your ears at this point.

it was a jumpscare after all.

As you calmed your breathing, you realize that the video is still playing and your ears perk up to the sound of heavy breathing and soft moans.

your head slowly turns to your phone - which was face up on the floor. Your head heavy with thoughts of who it could be.

maybe it was a prank? - you did joke with Shoko about how bad you needed to get dicked down today..

but no - it couldn’t be. Shoko was passed out on the couch. You were sure of it.

you walk towards your phone, gnawing on your lower lip as you stare at the screen.

he was going at it alright - and the fucked up thing was that you just couldn’t look away.

You marveled at how his cock managed to stay upright against his stomach - it looked so heavy, so fucking big. You’ve never looked at a dick before and thought ‘wow this is a really nice looking penis’ but low and behold - you were practically drooling at how delectable it looked.

he was stroking his own length, smearing the spewing pre-cum all over it until it was fully coated with his own slick. your hungry eyes were fixed on the movement of his hips, rolling in such an intimate way as he fucked his own fist for the camera.

the faint background music, his labored breathing mixed the sound of squelching were all buzzing through your ears and that plus the absolute sight of him made your thighs squeeze together as you watched him from above the ground.

the somewhat trance you were in was interrupted by the buzzing of your phone on the floor. Your eyes dart up to the top of the screen and you see a text from that same number;

[unknown] ???

[unknown] u there?

a shudder runs down your body and you quickly reach down to snatch your phone from the ground, eyes wide at the new text messages.

your thumbs were shaking as you thought of what to reply with - scratch that, you debated on even replying at all.

after a few minutes of typing and deleting and staring at the wall until your mind stops being blank, you muster up a reply ;

[you] who is this?

after around 3 minutes you receive a reply;

[unknown] is this yume?

oh god-

it hit you like a giant double decker bus.

this mother fucker accidentally sent a nude to the wrong number.

but also - you wondered who the fuck sends nudes on imessage anyways?

[you] no

[you] how did u get my number?

seen

he really took his time to reply - you assumed that it’s probably because he has just realized that he accidentally sent a nude to the wrong person.

any normal person would be freaking out right now - you sure as hell would be.

[unknown] wrong number

[unknown] sorry

that little voice in the back of your head popped up again, 'i think this might've been the right number'

[unknown] ignore the vid haha

[you] ...

[unknown] fuck

[you] its ok

[unknown] im so sorryy that i've traumatized u whoever u are

[you] im an 80 year old woman

[unknown] IM SORRY

[you] better be u almost gave me a stroke

[unknown] NOOOO 😭😭😭😭

[you] jk im not 80 but u did almost give me a stroke

[unknown] oh thank god

[unknown] not THE STROKE PART

[unknown] THE YOU NOT BEING AN OLD WOMAN THAT IVE JUST TRAUMATIZED

[you] nice cock btw

[unknown] thank you? seen

you left it at that. That last message you sent was a result of the marijuana and the lack of sleep in your system - you swore. but you decided to troll the man a little bit for ruining what was supposed to be a 'cute self-care night' before you returned to campus again on Monday.

Shoko swore that she was still high in the morning when she woke up to see that her two best friends blew up the group chat while she was asleep. she barely had the energy to scroll as she sipped her coffee and lit up her morning cigarette on your shared balcony - but she did and she was sooo glad for that.

"fucking dumbass" she muttered under her breath as she read the group chat, shaking her head because she couldn't possibly believe that Satoru was that stupid to send a nude the wrong person. and on imessage too. so she wrote in the group chat;

[MOTHER] @ Idiot#1 L

"good morning." You say from behind her as you plop onto the chair next to her "The weirdest thing happened last night."

She put her coffee mug down and rubs her eyes, "i didn't even realise that i passed out last night - what happened?"

"someone sent me a nude by accident last night - like a whole ass video too"

Shoko's eyes widen at your words. no fucking way. Her lips curl into a small smirk as she took a drag from her cigarette.

"oh really?"

◡̈

a/n - pt 2 coming soon ! ;)

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Oh my goshhhhhh I just binged all of your eldrich König writing and I’m OBSESSED! I need to know everything, what does it mean that they’re the herald? How many realms are there? What are the geopolitical realities of an (unaligned?) military of summoners? Have summons always been a part of this world’s history?

His mom is the coolest and I love the way the eldrich remind me of Nyx and her many children the chorionic gods.

It’s killing me they haven’t banged it out yet. And if hes bedded other people how did he not know his dick is weird 👀 This konig isnt like others Ive read and I’m just loving the warm and fuzzies from him being such a thoughtful partner but like almost too well adjusted? Miss the pet names though… Can’t wait to read more 💖💯🙌🏻 thank you!

I want them to fuck but unfortunately, here we are. I am suffering so much. Alas, a slow burn must be stirred carefully.

Now! As to what the herald means? I can't say. As to how many realms there are? As many atoms as there are in the universe and then some. They're practically infinite. It just so happens that König comes from one only a couple of realms away. He's not so distant from us, which is part of what allows him to inhabit our reality. If he were too distant, his form wouldn't be able to be corporeal. It wouldn't be able to take shape, period. The farther away a realm is, the less control it has over ours, and likewise us to them.

As for summoners out of the military, summons are very common! Many people call upon summons to help with daily tasks. Some are just for washing dishes or clothes, some are to keep as company on lonely nights. The use of summons varies depending on the person. In this world, humans have dedicated themselves to learning about other realms and pursuing knowledge and arts. They value hard skills made by human hands, though usage of summons to make manufactured goods is still a staple. Some individuals are dedicated to finding more and more summons, others are dedicated to training summons. Humans live luxurious lives these days. After all, if you never have to worry about maintaining a home, what would you do with all the free time? Humans aren't always lazy. Many of us devolved to degeneracy, but those humans didn't last long and didn't produce many more. The ones who had an internal drive were the ones to really carry on having families and pursuing greatness. Though some people still fall through the cracks, humanity has prospered in the age of summons.

Have summons always been here? Not really. They were discovered in the early common era to the start of the industrial age. For this group of humans, the industrial age was the age of summons. The summoning age, if you will. This was what kick-started their technological revolution.

On a different note!

König's mother is a beautiful creature. I truly consider her as close to divine as mortals can bear witness to. I am in awe of her. She is genuinely a fascinating being. She loves her children, she loves life, but she's not a good being. She's the embodiment of chaos, a rung above König. She's as capable of good as she is of bad. I will say, she prefers to preserve life when possible. She likes life, she likes how chaotic it is. She wants to preserve our spontaneity.

She also is very careful about Summoner. She likes our chocolates, but she kinda knows that König and Summoner haven't actually started their relationship, contrary to what König thinks. However, she's certain that we will end up together, which is the main reason she doesn't snuff out our candle before it's been lit. Herald be damned, she doesn't care. If we hurt her baby boy she'll erase our bloodline from the entirety of existence. It's a damn good thing that Summoner eventually ends up with König!!!

[badnewswhatsleft]

total guitar #160 march 2007 [joe's video]

transcript below cut:

You voted Dance, Dance in at No 57 in TG’s 100 Greatest Riffs, so we managed to collar the dual guitar talents of Fall Out Boy’s Joe Trohman and Patrick Stump to ask them how they write riffs, who they think is the ultimate riff-writing machine and what they deem to be the top five greatest riffs ever written…

Words: Claire Davies, Images: Joby Sessions

When you look at Fall Out Boy or listen to any one of their albums, it’s easy to dismiss them as pop punk scamps who like to mess around on the guitar but don’t take it that seriously. In some respects you’d be right, but singer/guitarist Patrick Stump and his talented co-guitarist Joe Trohman know quite a bit about writing insanely catchy riffs and playing guitar.

Patrick, for instance, doesn’t respect players who wail unnecessarily over a song. “I like restraint in guitarists,” he says. “It’s easy to go overboard and try to be Eddie Van Halen. But here’s the thing: you’re not.” Joe, on the other hand, is completely obsessed with vintage guitars. “I was really into vintage Gibsons, but I just used to break them all the time and it turned out to be kind of expensive. Now I play Washburns ‘cos they have that same wide-neck feel and pickups as some of those 70s Les Pauls.”

One thing they’re both passionate about, however, is writing great riffs and how you - by expanding your musical horizons - can write one with as much groove as Pantera’s Walk…

So guys, why did you choose guitar and when did you start playing?

Joe Trohman: “I started playing guitar because of Metallica. I used to listen to them loads and when my grandma got me the Live Shit: Binge And Purge video I couldn’t stop watching it. I used to play viola and trombone in my school band, but watching bands like Metallica and Smashing Pumpkins made me wanna play guitar. From the moment I got a cheap $50 guitar, I played it all the time.”

Patrick Stump: “I chose drums to begin with, but my dad was a folk singer in the 70s so he always had a guitar lying around. I’d mess around and write songs on it, but I never fancied myself as much of a player. When the band started I ended up singing, even though I was supposed to be a drummer. Then one of our guitarists quit, I had to fill in and it went from there.”

When you were starting out, which guitarists influenced you?

Joe: “Kirk Hammett and Dimebag had a huge impact on me, as did Billy Corgan. I was into a lot of lead players, I guess, but as I got older I realised how important it was to play rhythm as well. People don’t realise how good a rhythm player James Hetfield is. I also love Johnny Marr, who has probably been my biggest influence so far.”

Patrick: “I’m not a huge Stones fan, but I appreciate Keith Richards’ playing ‘cos it’s all about his riffs. Outside of that, my favourite shit as a guitar player is funk; everyone from James Brown to Prince. I also love jazz player Joe Pass, who is one of the only people good enough to noodle on guitar, and Jesse Johnson who was in a band called The Time from the Prince movie Purple Rain. My favourite solo of his is just one note, but the crazy shit he does with that one note is unreal.”

Moving on to riff-writing, how would you describe a guitar riff?

Joe: “It’s a cool guitar part that catches you instantly. It’s something you can play over and over without it losing its edge.”

Patrick: “Yeah, it’s four bars that are simple and that grab you immediately, like the riff from Janet Jackson’s Black Cat. I think a good riff comes down to a good rhythm section. When you look at a guy like Dimebag, he always got right in there with the bass and drums. Pantera were built on a groove as strong and simple as any R&B groove.”

Joe: “Yeah, Walk has to be one of the simplest riffs ever but it grooves, and that’s what matters: what you do with the riff and how much it grooves.”

So how do you come up with riffs, such as the one on Dance, Dance?

Patrick: “We just fuck around until we come up with something. You’ll come up with a gazillion riffs when trying stuff out, but every so often something will jump in front of you. Once you’ve got your four bars, stuff will start happening. With Dance, Dance I was just sitting in the van and we were all talking about The Cure, and I had this idea of a Cure bass line that they never wrote, which ended up being the riff in Dance Dance.”

What’s the best riff you’ve written?

Patrick: “I really like the riff on Of All The Gin Joints. But The Take Over, The Breaks Over from our new record [Infinity On High] is easily one of our best riffs. I wrote it after reading something Bowie said: that he was sitting around one day and decided that he really wanted to write a riff like Keith Richards did. So he wrote Rebel Rebel. After reading that I thought, ‘Fuck! I wanna do that!’”

What, in your opinion, makes a kick-ass riff?

Joe: “A great riff comes from being part of the rhythm and acknowledging that you’re not gonna produce something totally original. You should listen to loads of different music and put your own spin on it. Like on our last album we wrote a riff that was like Panama by Van Halen. We’ve obviously taken influence from them on that song, but we’re not ripping them off wholesale. Instead it’s like paying homage to them.”

Patrick: “When you’re writing a riff you’re part of the rhythm section and you keep up the tempo and rhythm as if you were the drummer. You have stabs as though you were the snare drum and you’re hitting low notes as though you’re the bass drum, but you’re also controlling the melody. At the end of the day, a riff is something that you can hum and it’s a rhythm you can play on drums. If you have both those qualities in your riff then you’re onto something good.”

What do you think are the Top Five greatest riffs ever written?

Joe: “I love the start of This Charming Man by The Smiths, and Black In Black by AC/DC. Walk by Pantera is probably one of the best riffs ever, same as Battery by Metallica, but if you can’t do triplets and haven’t got tons of stamina then it’s hard to play. I also love South Of Heaven by Slayer just ‘cos it’s so evil sounding.”

Patrick: “Satisfaction by The Stones is the be-all and end-all of riffs. I’d also go for Rebel Rebel by David Bowie, Janet Jackson’s Black Cat, the second section of Bohemian Rhapsody and Black Sabbath by Black Sabbath. That one riff alone changed metal as we know it. I also wanna throw in Owner Of A Lonely Heart by Yes ‘cos it’s a great example of having really talented guitarists who still keep it simple.”

Who do you think is the ultimate riff-writing machine?

Joe: “I’d go with Randy Rhoads, just ‘cos I love that riff in Crazy Train. That guy was a genius.”

Patrick: “Angus and Malcolm Young have written so many phenomenal riffs that you can’t do any better than those guys. But I come from an R&B background so I wanna say Prince, just ‘cos Let’s Go Crazy is so awesome. And I also wanna know who wrote the riff to Michael Jackson’s Beat It [TG mentions it was session musician and Toto guitarist Steve Lukather]. Was it Lukather? Yeah, of course it was: he played the riff and Eddie Van Halen played the solo. I wonder why Lukather doesn’t get more recognition? Now you’ve mentioned Lukather, I wanna change one of my Top Five riffs to Toto’s Hold The Line, ‘cos that’s one of my favourite riffs ever!”

How did you approach the guitars on your new album, Infinity On High?

Patrick: “We’re both playing a lot more rhythm on this record, but if there is lead then it’s in much more of a BB King way where there’s a call and response.”

Joe: “My favourite thing about the guitars on our new songs is that I can ad-lib when we’re playing live. I know scales well enough and understand the fretboard well enough to do that. I could never tell you what key something is in, but in my head I know what it is. The cool thing about being in this band is that Patrick and I play guitar really well together, and I’ve learned a lot from watching Patrick and playing guitar with him.”

So can we expect a lot of guitar interplay from you on this album?

Joe: “Patrick also plays piano on this album, so he’s not always on guitar, but we split up a lot of the guitar playing. There’s a solo on The Take Over, The Breaks Over that we split in half when playing live, even though on the record it was done by Chad from New Found Glory and Ryan from Panic! At The Disco. We thought it was cooler to have guest guitarists than guest vocalists. So yeah, we split a lot of the guitar stuff up and switched between rhythm and lead. The weird thing is that I’m always pegged as the lead guitarist of the band, but we always switch back and forth.”

Patrick: “I think in general, I play a lot of the single-note leads and Joe plays a lot of the octave and chord leads.”

Which tracks on the new album best exemplify you guys as guitarists?

Patrick: “The end solo of Don’t You Know Who I Think I Am? Is how I love to solo. It’s real bluesy, which is what I’m about as a player. I’d also say the solo on You’re Crashing But You’re No Wave.”

Joe: “Yeah, that one had a lot of Johnny Marr filler guitar in there, and also Don’t You Know Who I Think I Am? It's filler guitar that doesn’t really jump out at you, but it’s atmospheric and it changes the vibe without you really knowing it.”

Finally, how proud are you as guitarists of your new album?

Patrick: “This is my favourite record because it’s restrained and funny. It’s basic rhythm playing, which is my favourite kind of guitar playing. I’m much happier playing a strong riff 100 times over than playing a kick-ass solo once. We do have kick-ass solos, but the way we write doesn’t always leave that much room for them.”

Joe: “I learned from playing on this album that I don’t need to play solos all the time. I’m proud of the record and proud of the cool riffs and songs that we’ve written together.”

Patrick: “I’m less impressed when someone shows off, and on this record we don’t show off a lot so obviously you should be impressed… I’m kidding!”

[ziggyzolch]

Your Prettiness is Seeping Through II (Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

Warnings: maybe bungled the medical stuff and process of being admitted, suicidal ideation, aftermath, descriptions of self harm kind of? its not like currently happening. Bulimia and what comes with it. Those r the main things I think. Previous Chapter

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

-------the shame is manifest in my resistance------- ❅❅❅

“So they’re admitting you?”

You could feel the snow being crushed beneath your weight as you leaned back on your hands. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon and your best friend was sitting next to you on a random curb, taking the pack of cigarettes from your hand.

It was mid-winter. The city streets bustled with the cheer of festive Christmas decorations and the harmonies of carolers. It almost makes you feel better. You never cared for Christmas, or religion in general, but the joy in the little kids’ faces at the snow blanketing the streets, and the laughing of teenagers having snowball fights was cute.

It helped.

You sigh, turning towards your friend, “No, I don’t think so. Most that’ll happen is I’ll be in therapy, I guess.”

She rubs her hands together in an attempt to warm up, “I think I’d kill myself if I got caught. Kidding, you’ll be fine. Probably.”

You scoff, “Thanks,”

You snatched the pack from her hand, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

You had gotten over the fear of throat cancer a long time ago. It’s more of an expectation than a fear now. Smoking and purging at the same time kind of makes it an inevitability. The thought of death didn’t scare you. Not that you were cripplingly suicidal. You didn’t desperately want to die anymore, you just wouldn’t mind if you did. If you died from all of these habits, it was fine, great even. If not, whatever.

Passively suicidal.

Tomorrow, you’ll have your long awaited psych evaluation. You were shocked that it wasn’t the first thing they’d done. You weren’t that big of a risk anyways. A week has passed since your parents caught you, and you’d been made to take a number of medical tests to determine the severity of your bulimia, or something.

The first one was a general physical assessment, the most simple yet most uncomfortable. You had been made to wear a hospital gown, which you felt was overboard but whatever. They wouldn’t be able to admit you just based off of a BMI measurement, you were sure. You weren’t very underweight, most bulimics you knew weren’t. In fact, most of them were normal, sometimes overweight, but you just assumed it was because they were bad at it. You didn’t feel anything looking at your weight. Numbers mattered, sure, but with every binge and purge, your weight fluctuated like crazy, so you learned to just look for signs of weight loss via mirror.

She read your BMI out loud, you knew it wasn’t low enough to be a concern. You internally celebrated, until you noticed her eyes glancing down to your arm.

Shit.

Burning was your preferred method of self mutilation. Cutting was unsatisfying, messy, and a pain in the ass. Burns look disgusting when they heal though, which was the only downside. The scars are easily passable as cooking accidents and such. When they’re still healing, though, charred, blistered, and disgusting, they’re almost impossible to excuse. Your mom had caught you once, with your worst burn nonetheless. One offer of taking over the chores for the day and she was off your back, already taking her place on the sofa.

The burns weren’t fresh, not at all. Most of them were years old, but you panicked nonetheless. You’ve seen how batshit they get at any sign of self harm. You watched as she glanced towards your arm, then turned back to her clipboard, writing something down. Subtly moving your other arm behind your back, you cover up the bruises on your knuckles.

You also had to go to a dentist appointment. Last time you went, you had just gotten your braces off and permanent retainers in. You still have glue on the back of your teeth from when your top retainer broke, they had never gotten rid of it. With how often it fell off, you were glad the dentist had given up on putting in replacements.

You were more worried about this appointment than the physical assessment. You couldn’t keep food down, smiling with your eroded teeth was uncomfortable, and your breath was horrible. The dentist would definitely notice something, at the very least that you were a smoker. Your mother would hate that more than bulimia.

Honestly, despite all of these effects, you got the benefit of barely having a gag reflex. Which, now that you think about it, doesn’t really matter considering you don’t even like men.

Surprise was clear on your face when your dentist complimented you on the health of your teeth and sent you on your way.

You didn’t really know what the other tests were, something about heart arrhythmias and electrolytes. You didn’t care, you were so over it. It was all bullshit. You weren’t sad. You weren’t suicidal nor were you a danger to yourself or others. You were just bulimic, not on the brink of fucking brain collapse.

All of this was bullshit.

❅❅❅

Wanda’s senses come back one by one. Her ears pick up the soft whirring of machinery and occasional beeping of monitors. The soft footsteps of nurses and patients walking past, the opening and closing of a door as doctors enter, the scratching of their pens against their clipboard. The lingering scent of antiseptic reaches her nose, and the bitter taste in her mouth makes itself known. Her fingers pinch the stiff material of her gown, and she can feel the IV in her arm. Finally, she opens her eyes.

Waking up in the fiery depths of hell would’ve been better than where Wanda was right now. She mumbled curses under her breath as she looked around, taking in the hospital equipment around her.

“Natasha?” She croaked out when she caught sight of her friend sleeping on the hospital chair in the corner of the room. Natasha jumped up, wiping the drool off her chin and rushing towards Wanda. “Oh, thank god.” She sighed, pulling Wanda into an awkward hug.

She pulls back when she realizes Wanda wasn’t hugging her back. “How do you feel?” Wanda cringes at the pity on Natasha’s face. “Peachy.” She turns away, not stopping Natasha when she reaches to grab her hand.

The widow sighs, rubbing circles into Wanda’s hand, making her fingers twitch slightly. They sit in silence, not knowing what to say to each other. Wanda was glad Natasha had found her. She didn’t want to be found at all, but at least it was Natasha.

She was so stupid, so fucking stupid. Of course it wouldn’t have worked. She should’ve just shot herself in the head, like a man. She’d read somewhere that men have higher suicide rates because they carry it out in more extreme ways. Girls usually go for lighter, prettier deaths. Overdoses, slitting their wrists in a rose petal filled bathtub, and such. More survivable, and less of a burden for whoever cleans up after them. Men don't feel the same obligation. So what if it's more work for the cleaners? A shotgun to the head is easier for them, that's what matters. They don't think about how puffy their face would get if they hung themselves, or how awkward they'd be positioned on the ground if they jumped off a building. They don't think about the possibility of surviving afterwards and dealing with the deformity.

Pietro’s lifeless body flashes in her mind.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Wanda finally notices the iron grip she had on Natasha’s hand.

She didn’t want to talk about Pietro. Never. “What’s going to happen to me?”

Her friend looks away, “You’re suspended until you get help.”

“What! No!” Wanda sits up, snatching her hand out of Natasha’s grip, “This was the first time! Bruce tried to kill himself, why isn’t he suspended?”

“That was before he even joined.”

Wanda sighs, “So, what like, therapy for a week?”

Natasha raises her eyebrows, “Wanda, you tried to kill yourself. You need to be monitored.”

“I’m not a fucking child. Jesus, Nat!”

“It’s not up to me, Fury’s orders. Either get help or you’re fired, basically.”

“Don’t I need a psychological evaluation or some shit?”

“Wanda, you swallowed a whole bottle of whatever-the-fuck pills. I can evaluate you right now. You’re fucked in the head, babe.” Natasha attempts to joke.

She sighs in relief when Wanda huffs out a laugh, “So, you’re sending me to the loony bin?”

“Yup. It’ll be great though, perks of being an Avenger.” Natasha places a comforting hand on Wanda’s shoulder.

“How long will I be there?”

Natasha grabs Wanda’s hand that’s picking at her gown, “Until you’re better.”

The sound of a girl yelling stops their conversation.

❅❅❅

“Inpatient would be the best option…”

The ringing in your ears blocks out whatever the doctor was saying. What the fuck. You were not crazy. So what if you were bulimic. You didn’t constantly starve yourself and avoid food so you were chill, but you also were not getting fat, so you were hot. It’s like a win-win.

You’re sitting with your parents, a doctor across from you. He must be a therapist, or psychologist…psychiatrist? Potato, Tomato.

A hand on your shoulder brings you back to earth. Tears are pooling in your mothers eyes, your father is sighing into his hand. “What about my classes? My life!”

“Lower your voice. You aren’t being sent away to the fucking Alcatraz.” Your father grits out.

The doctor chimes in, “I’m sure you’ll be able to do your school work, most institutions let you have books and supervised computer time.”

You push your mothers hand off your shoulder. “Why are you doing this to me?”

She scoffs, “Me? Why are you doing this to yourself!”

“You can’t make me!” Passersby can hear your voice through the closed door of the office.

It was true, they couldn’t really. You were a legal adult, they couldn’t make you do shit. Your mother pinches the bridge of her nose before turning to your father expectedly. You look back and forth between them with an eyebrow raised.

“We won’t support you anymore if you don’t do this.” He finally pushes out.

“What? As if you’ve ever supported-”

Oh. Financially. College and such. Housing and such. Food…and such.

You’re not that level of adult, yet.

“What the fuck-”

“Language!”

“No! What the actual fuck! I’m not sick!”

Your father’s face contorts in anger, “Did you not hear a single word the doctor said? Your potassium levels, electrolytes, and heart are all fucked! You could have a heart attack!” He takes a breath,

“You are killing yourself.”

“What?” You don’t know what to say. Why is your heart beating so fast?

You let out a frustrated shriek, getting up to leave. They don’t know what they’re saying. You storm out of the office, narrowly avoiding passing nurses and stretchers, trying to ignore the sense of dread building within you.

Heart attacks were a lame death. You could imagine how stupid you'd look; jaw wide open, leaning back in your desk chair, clutching at your chest. The door to your room is always locked, so your parents wouldn’t care to check for a while. They’d just assume you were isolating yourself.

Stiffening up in that position, rotting and decomposing. So lame, so ugly.

It didn’t scare you.

Your head ricocheting off a wall interrupts your spiral.

Natasha winces, peaking over the door to find you on the floor, rubbing your head. Wanda had asked her to check what was going on, and you happened to be passing by at the same time she opened the door. You push yourself off the floor before Natasha could help you up. Black spots appear in your vision and you start swaying. You must’ve stood up too fast.

Natasha holds you up as you fall into her for a second, before you regain your bearings.

“Get off me!”

She lets go immediately, raising an eyebrow when you double-take at the sight of Wanda.

‘She’s so skinny.’

Wanda looks up at you, confused when she takes you in. You could’ve been the same weight as her, if not a little more. She doesn’t read people's thoughts if she can help it, but yours were so loud. You blush when she makes eye contact with you, turning and stomping away.

Your footsteps fade as Natasha closes the door, making her way back to Wanda. The widow smiles at Wanda, poking her side, “I think she has a crush on you.” Wanda’s eyes widen, “No way; she said I was skinny.” Natasha tilts her head, “Like in a disgusted way?” The witch looks down at her hands.

She assumed it was envy at first, but you didn’t look like you weighed significantly more than her. Nor was it disgust, based off of how you looked at her.

“Not…really. I don’t know.”

Natasha sighs, “Well, it doesn't matter. We’ll fatten you up in no time.”

She winces at Wanda’s obviously forced laugh.

She didn’t like being skinny, but it was an effect of her depression. It wouldn’t be that easy to reverse. The only reason she was open to this treatment was so that she could go back to work. She’ll just pretend to get better, go back, and work until she can’t take it anymore. Next time, she’ll use a gun. Actually, would she subconsciously stop the bullet with her powers? The pills almost killed her, maybe she’d just lock her door next time. She could pick up smoking, maybe that’d be like a backup. A slow, eventual death could be happening in the background while she found short term options. Multitasker.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Wanda is taken out of her reverie as Natasha pokes at her stomach again. She smiles, shaking her head and curling up into the bed. The older redhead pats her shoulder, “The squad’s going to visit before you leave. Just thought I’d give you a heads up.”

Wanda groans, she didn’t need any more people up her ass.

She stiffens at the sound of sniffling, looking up when she feels her shoulder dampen.

“Don’t ever do that again.”

Natasha leans over her frame, hair masking her face. The brunette stammers, racking her brain for a reply. She’d never seen Natasha so emotional. It was like hearing Steve use slang.

She sighs, curling further into herself and ignoring Natasha. She wishes she could reassure her. Tell her that even the thought of trying again made her nauseous, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t live the rest of her life seeing her brother's corpse every time she blinks.

Living with the memory of Pietro’s death for the rest of her life was worse than any torture she’d ever endured.

She ignores the flashing images as her eyes drift close, falling asleep to the sound of Natasha’s sniffling.

❅❅❅

A/N: I lowk regret writing in in second person but yolo. reply to this post if u wanna get tagged in the next chapter. I hope you enjoyed!

Tags: @mathxa @nikkinss

[live-laugh-lenney]

Here for something with Mr Lenney pls🙏🏼

Spent the evening binging his react to Love Island vids and now just wanna be sat in the sun on holiday with him. Maybe a group holiday with other YouTube lads and they’re all single so it’s reader on a lads holiday essentially but Will does little things like making her breakfast, taking her on little dates away from the lads (particularly if their all hungover from partying the night before), napping together before getting ready for dinner (also together). Idk that’s all just suggestions, I just want Will on holiday, by the ocean and in the sun so I can fulfill my willne and moana dreams at once so do anything you like with that!! ☀️🌺🥥

ohhh, that's so cuteeee! this is definitely someting we can talk more on! the scenario of the boys being on holiday, in any of the stories, has me weak.

she considers herself 'one of the lads'.

the lads consider her as 'one of the lads'.

whenever they hang out, they always made sure to invite her so she didn't feel left out and they always made her feel welcomed into the group by including her in conversations, letting her partake in any of their silly drinking games that they played, and they let their softer side to come out when teasing her - no horrid nicknames that made her feel small or belittled, no taking the piss out of her when she did something or said something that they found funny, no singling her out for their own humour and for the benefit of their out laughter. she was like a little sister to them; and she always felt comfortable and safe around them.

so, of course she was going to be invited to their annual trip abroad.

much to her excitement... and much to will's liking.

four months is how long they'd been secretly 'seeing' each other.

they weren't scared of what their friends would say about them being a couple... if anything, they'd be over the moon knowing that their two friends were finding happiness with each other. they just enjoyed the secrecy of no one having a clue that they were spending time together, alone, on the days that they'd not all hang out together.

sending silly and flirtatious texts every so often when they missed the other, staying over at each other's flats most nights of the week and spending their days off together, going on secret dates in the parts of london they knew they'd never get seen, and keeping calm and very collected when they were out together to not give anything away.

wedged between calfreezy and chip on the flight to croatia, because cal had insisted he had the aisle seat so he could stretch out his legs and chip hadn't been willing to sit anywhere but in the window seat... as much as she wished she was sat beside will, who was in the row of seats to her right and squeezed in between harry and chris, she was happy to have had some peace and quiet and some time away from the geordie accent she'd been listening to for the last twenty-four hours. having stayed at his place the night before they were due to fly from heathrow airport, the two of them insisting it was easier to get picked up from the same place and go together opposed to her being a solo traveler to meet the rest of them at the airport since she lived the furthest away... although, that's what they told the boys... which they were surprised they'd understood as a valid reason.

reev and callux, and theo baker in the middle of them, were sat in the row behind her and she could hear them either talking to a camera as they vlogged their trip away or informing their instagram followers on how they'd pulled the short straw in sitting next to theo for the next few hours. much to her amusement.

once they landed, heading straight to the villa that they'd rented for the next ten days, the lot of them were eager to get settled in before heading out to find a supermarket for their necessities and to scope out the local bars and restaurants that they were going to spend their nights in. all yn wanted was a shower, and her cleansing products, as the plane air felt sticky and gross on her skin.

with their rooms dibsed by the time they walked through the front door, their suitcases and bags thrown on the beds to claim them as their own, it didn't take long for the boys to ready themselves with a spray of their deodorant and a spritz of aftershave and a splash of water to their faces to clear the sweat building from the humidity.

much to yn's appreciation, who wanted the shower first.

she stood in her room once she was feeling fresh, having stood under the shower head from a couple of minutes so she felt cooler and a lot more cleaner, air drying as she rummaged through her suitcase for a more suitable outfit for taking a walk in the twenty-degree heat.

"just give us a text when you're ready. we'll go find a good lunch spot. i think we're all starving," calfreezy's voice echoed around the empty villa and yn couldn't help but pinch her brows together in confusion as to who he was speaking to, "no going to sleep for six hours. the jetlag is nothing."

"you have my word."

it was will's voice that echoed back and there was a tingle in her belly that made her feel weak at the knees. and when the door closed, the voices of the guys trailing off in the distance as they made their way down the main road outside their villa, it wasn't long before she heard his footsteps rushing up the stairs. his shoes scuffing the cool and tiled floor which lined every room in the house.

"what do you reckon? an hour to ourselves before they get suspicious of us?" will questions as he steps foot around the door to her room and sees her standing in her towel, "was hoping to hop in with you, save water and all that."

"you snooze, you lose," yn grins cheekily at him and he rolls his eyes in a dramatised fashion, "i was fine meeting you guys in the town, you know? it's not that far of a walk for me to do by myself in daylight."

"i know but i wanted to keep you company here," he perches himself down on the edge of her bed and watches as she pulls out different articles of clothing to see if they went together, "fancy going out for dinner one night this week? me and you?"

"won't the guys get a bit suspicious if we go off together?"

"i don't really care," he admits and she glances at him, "what?"

"nothing, i just," she sighs softly and sets a pair of denim shorts and a cropped white t-shirt on her bed, pairing it with an oversized shirt that was decorated with stripes that she was going to wear over the top and knot at the front, "i like the sneaking around. the enjoyment and the excitement of almost being caught. all that goes out of the window when they know."

"but we could kiss and hold hands in public," he reminds her and she drops the towel to her feet, her underwear already clinging to her skin having done that when she got out the shower, "we could be a proper couple."

"are we not now?"

"of course we are," he laughs softly, "but i get to show you off. i get to bat away the boys who stare at you and not sit back and get jealous because we have to pretend not to have any feelings whatsoever. i get to brag about you."

the room is filled with silence as she slips her clothes on and finishes off getting ready, pairing her outfit with a pair of nike socks and her comfortable white trainers, but she can't ignore the eyes that watch her from her bed.

"the last night," she suggests, "we'll find a place, we'll dine, we'll wine and we'll come clean to the boys."

"yeah?"

"yeah," she nods and he grins widely, standing to his feet and pressing a kiss to her forehead, "if they find out before then they find out before but... yeah, the last night of our holiday should go out with a bang."

"a bang i can get behind," he smirks and she smacks his arm playfully with the palm of her hand, "i'm sorry, i'm sorry." xx

[khvlani]

my prentaway headcanon for their meet cute is that they met at a bar in brooklyn. yes. brooklyn. after the bau, elle went back to new york. a few months later, agent emily prentiss flew to new york for a vacation/break. she happens to go to the bar elle always goes to.

emily is nursing a whiskey, sitting by the bar, when suddenly she feels a gentle tap on her shoulder. it was elle!! but ofc she didn’t know that and ofc elle hit on her. they go on with the night, and elle invites her emily over to her place and eventually *wink* *wink* have sex.

after what elle calls “the best sex of her life” they manage to agree to talk each other until they fall asleep and thats when the bomb is dropped. “i never really got your name” emily says. “yes, you did. elle.” elle smiles. “no, like. prentiss, emily prentiss…which makes you..elle..?”

“greenaway.”

emily is in shock which startles elle. “did i say something wrong?” elle asks gently. “im your replacement.” elle raises a brow. “what?”

“im YOUR replacement” emily repeats. “yeah, i heard you the first time, emily. now, tell me, what the fuck are you on?” elle chuckles.

“i work for the bau. quantico? i am the girl after you” emily explains. elle is shocked, trying to process the information. she has so many questions to ask but she shakes it off, and tops emily. “now, i’m the girl on top of you” she smirks.

they basically continue to do it until they get tired and fall asleep cuddling. they talked over it during waffles at breakfast and emily explains and shares a lot of things about the team to elle which she gracefully accepted.

they decided to keep in touch after that. elle would occasionally visit quantico and emily sometimes visits brooklyn, vv.

and bada bing bada boom, they’re dating.

[volklana]

I Could Drown Myself In Someone Like You

Part One

Title Comes From This Song:

You can find my other Biker!Bucky fic here:

Request: Hey girl I literally just found your blog and when I tell you I BINGED your Ride series. Please I beg could we have some more Biker Bucky? Maybe barmaid reader? I really don't mind as long as we get some BikerBuck!

Warnings: Mentions of unwanted physical attention. Future chapters will allude to past domestic abuse. If that isn't for you, please don't read, protect your peace and you can catch me next time xx

Bucky pulled his bike into the parking lot of his bar and grill.

A customer stepped outside to light a cigarette and the light from inside spilled out into the dark, along with the music playing inside. 

Bucky was nothing if not a creature of habit, every night he would ride his bike through winding forest roads, down to the creek, and sometimes he would lay on the riverbank smoking cigarettes like he and Steve used to do when they were teenagers, before they’d gone to war, before he’d been fucked up. Before he became whatever this version of himself was.

And then in the evenings he’d pull up here to his bar and drink nearly not enough whisky to drown out the nightmares in his cabin behind the bar. 

Sighing, he let himself into the bar. Steve as always was pouring drinks and chatting easily in that light hearted way he had, Bucky would have been envious if he hadn’t loved him so much. Steve had managed to hold on to all the best parts of himself, but Bucky’s were buried somewhere in a bunker in the Middle East, and even if he wanted to, he could never get them back. 

Sam was busy flipping steaks at the grill and gave Bucky a wide eyed grin as Bucky passed him by and pushed the swing door into the back office.

He stilled all action at the sight of a girl in his office on top of his chair, on her tiptoes still unable to reach the top shelf as she fumbled to reach something.

“Can I help you?” he said gruffly and god damn if he didn’t startle you half to death and nearly cause you to fall off the chair. 

“I’m looking for the grenadine syrup, Steve said I would find it up here.”

“Oh he did, did he?” Bucky laughed “And did he also tell you it was fine to climb all over my shit in the process?”

“No, Sir,” you offered meekly, stepping gently down off his chair “I’m sorry,” but you couldn’t fight the smile that was threatening to spread across your face. 

Bucky huffed and reached over your head with ease, pressing the bottle of grenadine into your hand.

“Next time Steve sends you on a mission like that, tell him to pull his lazy, tall ass in here and reach the damn top shelf himself,” 

You smiled up at him, and he felt the ghost of a butterfly in his stomach.

“I’m y/n,” you offered with a smile and he couldn’t help but return a lopsided one himself.

“Bucky,” he returned. 

Bucky made your mouth water, his tight black jeans were ripped at the knees, and he wore a well worn leather jacket but it did absolutely nothing to hide his muscular frame, his hair was long and messy and was just begging for you to run your hands through it. You had to shake all thoughts of him from your head as you returned to your shift.

“What’s her story?” Bucky asked Steve, eyeing you as you made your rounds and he sipped on his whisky.

“Why do you assume she has a story?” Steve cocked his head now following you in his line of sight too.

“C’mon Steve, no one ends up here unless they have a story. They’re either running away from something, or someone. Or they’re on their way to somewhere else, and they’re simply stopping off here.” 

“Bucky,” Steve sighed, clapping him on the back “You always assume the worst in people.” 

“And they always prove me right,” Bucky countered while taking another sip.

As you finished mopping the floor, you made your way into the back office, looking shy, wringing your hands, nervously.

“What is it?” Bucky asked.

“Sam said to talk to you about if it would be okay to get this week’s wages upright,” Bucky could see straight away how embarrassed you were “Bucky I wouldn’t ask, but the bnb are asking for payment upright and I’m just 40 bucks short.” 

Bucky was reaching into his wallet straight away and you tried to put out a hand to stop him.

“Please..Please,” Bucky shook his hand and handed you some notes, you scrunched your eyebrow at his kindness.

“Take this for tonight and I’ll get you your full wages for your shift tomorrow.”

“I’ll pay you back Sir,” you said, voice so low it was almost a whisper and he shook his head softly.

“Let me give you a ride back,” he offered and you shook your head profusely.

“You’ve done enough for me tonight,” you reminded him, notes in your hand, “I’ll see you tomorrow for my shift.” 

Bucky watched you go, and again that ghost of a butterfly fluttered in his stomach and he grimaced uncomfortably.

Bucky watched you over the next few nights, always the first to your shift and always the last to leave.

And every night you refused any offer to drive you home from him, Sam or Steve. 

He was filling out papers in his office when he heard a gentle knock and you were before him.

“I wanted to give you this,” you said meekly with some notes in your hand , “I can’t thank you enough Bucky.”

“Doll,” he sighed, surprising even himself with the nickname “Please keep it, consider it a welcome gift.”

“If it’s all the same I would like to give it back to you,” you smiled, placing it on his desk “It was awful kind of you and I’ll never forget it.” 

Before he could even respond you had dipped out of his office and began your shift.

The bar went quiet when a particularly menacing looking gang wandered into the bar, and immediately Steve and Sam stood to attention, you were in the back fetching more pitchers.

They seemed to be scouting the area out before choosing a table at the opposite end of the bar to settle at.

Steve caught your arm as you went to take their orders “Be careful,” he nodded towards them and you went to take their orders gingerly. 

Amid the wolf whistles and cat-calls you finally managed to take their orders, which you promptly relayed to Sam and Steve. 

After you had successfully served their food and first round of drinks, you retreated to behind the bar before they summoned you back again. 

“C’mere baby,” one of them slurred pulling you onto his lap.

You initially tried to laugh off how uncomfortable you were, but when he wouldn’t let you wrangle free, you felt trapped and felt your panic begin to rise. 

“Let me go,” you tried weakly when he began to try kissing your face, trapping your hands in his much stronger ones, you tried to make pleading eye contact with Steve but he was nowhere to be seen.

As he let go of your hands to toy with the waistband of your denim jeans you finally managed to bolt free, but when he grabbed your arm and spun you around you reacted with a swift slap to his face, shocking even yourself, but you were in no way expecting the sharp sting of a returning slap, tears welling in your eyes and hand flying up instinctively to your burning skin. 

Everything else passed by in a blur as you recognised Steve and Bucky kicking into action, you just about managed to get your feet to move before you were collapsing down behind the bar, feeling the all too familiar feeling of a panic attack ripping through your body and the awful sensation of not being able to breath.

It seemed like hours before Bucky was before you where you sat, rocking back and forward, hands covering your ears.

“Doll,” he tried and you cowered away from him, he got down on his hunkers and gingerly reached for you, “it’s me doll, it’s Bucky. Breathe for me. Breathe for me.” 

When you finally felt like you could breathe again Bucky went to fetch a glass of water and leaned up against the counter, arms folded, he examined you over, eyes honing in on the red, swollen skin of your cheek.

“I’m so sorry Bucky,” you finally broke the silence, refusing to meet his eye.

“Hey,” he shushed, dropping down to his hunkers in front of you again “You have nothing to apologise for!” 

You couldn’t help the tears that sprung to your eyes with shame and you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole. 

You rolled your eyes and sniffed, “This was meant to be a fresh start, and it seems like trouble just follows me wherever I go.”

“What can I do doll?” Bucky said softly reaching out to put a reassuring hand on your knee, it was only then you realised his knuckles were bloody.

You realised with a startle that he had got his knuckles bloody for you.

“Can you take me home Buck,” you asked swiping your thumb over his knuckles, your silent thank you for the trouble they had gone to on your behalf. 

Bucky pulled into the parking space of the bnb, and helped you take your motorcycle helmet off. 

It had been weeks since you first reached town and Bucky was curious.

“What are you still doing here? You don’t want to find somewhere proper?” 

“Nobody will rent to me,” you said sadly “I’ve tried everywhere. Even that shack out by the creek that’s been abandoned since before we were born. Nobody wants to rent to me because I’m an outsider.” 

Bucky was suddenly angry at how the town had been treating you.

“Thank you for taking me home and I’m so sorry about tonight,” you said softly and Bucky turned to examine your face, thumb brushing over your cheekbone, your eyes fluttered closed at the touch and something jolted inside Bucky.

“You sure you’re okay?” he whispered and you nodded softly.

You stood gently on your tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, “I’ll see you tomorrow Buck.” 

Bucky tossed and turned all night. He had briefly fallen asleep only to once again be woken by a nightmare. The same one. That same bunker. That same chair. But then something unexpected, when he tried to close his eyes again, your eyes were staring back at him, and if he was honest that was what was keeping him awake. He knew he was in trouble….

“Keep your coat on y/n,” Bucky ordered as you arrived for your shift.

“What? Why?” you cried, fearing you were being let go, Bucky huffed a laugh at your horrified expression, “Doll, you’re not fired. We’re taking a little road trip.” 

You climbed onto his bike and held on tight to his torso, winding through Californian redwoods, the mountain air all around you.

Bucky finally pulled onto a little dirt track that led up to an opening in the trees and a singular cabin stood against the backdrop of a small lake. 

“Come on,” he motioned, removing your helmet, and leading you inside.

It was cosy, the living room and kitchen were open plan and there was an old cast iron log burner in the middle of the room with logs stacked either side of it.

There was one room off the side which you assumed was the bedroom.

“Well, what do you think?” Bucky asked motioning around.

“It’s beautiful Buck,” you said, still unsure why he had brought you here “It’s a beautiful home.” 

“It’s yours,” Bucky stated simply, back turned to you and  hands on his hips.

“What?” you almost shrieked and he replied in the same nonchalant tone “It’s yours!” 

“Bucky, wait!” you deadpanned, catching his shoulder and forcing him to turn around to look at you, eyes scanning his face until he conceded.

“It was my Mom’s cottage, and seeing as she’s not here anymore and I’ve got my place at the bar, I think you should have it, you can’t stay at that bnb forever. You need a place of your own.Plus it’s about time some life was breathed back into this place ” 

“Buck,” you cried, eyes watering, not letting go of your hold on him “Are you sure?”

“It’s yours doll,” he whispered, eyes flicking briefly down to your lips, “For as long as you choose to stay, and I hope you do stay, it’s yours,” 

You extended your hand out to him “You take the rent out of my wages,” you ordered, waiting for him to shake on your deal.

“Doll,” he sighed “The place was lying empty, I'm not going to charge you rent,” you looked like you were about to argue when he stuck his hand out too, “Counter offer, if you do this place up. Make it somewhere lived in and beautiful. Somewhere my Ma would be proud to look down on, then we’re quits.”

You nodded and shook his hand ferociously, tears threatening to spill.

“Thank you Bucky,” you whispered, pulling him into a hug and relishing in the feel of his strong arms around you, and your heart hammered in your chest when he placed a gentle kiss on your head.

After a month or two of working at the bar you had saved enough to buy a second hand, beaten up old pickup truck, and Sam brought you out to pick it up.

“Are you sure you want this hunk of junk y/n?” he argued but you were enamored and being able to drive it home to your cabin filled you with an enormous amount of peace. 

You had been growing closer and closer with Bucky, sometimes he would stop by on your days off to do some of the diy you pestered him about on your shifts and if you were honest you really enjoyed the company.

The first few nights on your own in the cabin had been nothing short of terrifying. You weren’t used to being alone and on the second night a huge storm knocked all your power out and you shivered in bed all night terrified of the darkness.

Bucky came around the next morning and fixed your generator so that would never happen again. 

“There,” Bucky sighed “All done!” 

You came to join him on the porch and passed him a bottle of beer and he flicked a switch and the fairy lights he had hung all around the cottage flickered to light.

“They’re beautiful Buck,” you smiled, hugging him tightly, eyes lighting up like a child as you looked up at them. 

“Not as beautiful as you,” he said softly, hands coming to rest on your waist, and his breath on your neck made you shiver.

“Bucky,” you tried softly but he cut you off with a kiss. You melted into his touch completely and he gently became more ferocious in the way he clasped your body and kissed your lips. 

He backed you through the open door of the cottage until you collapsed down on the sofa and he climbed on top of you, he was making quick work of your shirt when you finally came to your senses.

“Wait, Wait,” you panted, hands planting on his chest “Maybe we should slow down for a moment.” 

“You want me to slow it down baby doll?” he panted and you nodded gently.

“I’m not ready Buck,” you cried and Bucky suddenly noticed how terrified you looked, feeling guilty that he had pushed you to a place you weren’t ready for yet.

“I can wait babygirl,” he promised, cupping your face in both of his hands “I can wait.” 

“Bucky, no. No.” you cried, pushing him away with your leg and running your hands through your hair, “I can’t do this,” you cried. 

Bucky sat still on your sofa not quite sure what to do for a moment “You don’t want this?”

You shook your head, tears springing to your eyes “It’s not that Buck, it's just I can’t be what you need right now. I can’t be with you like this.”

“What do you think I need?” he rose gently “All I need is you,” he countered

“Hey, hey, why are you crying?” he shushed brushing your hair behind your ears “Don’t cry.”

“Please Buck,” you were pleading, “Please can you just leave, I can't do this. It’s too much for me.”

Bucky was torn between wanting to assure you some more and respecting your request for him to leave. He hesitated just a moment too long for you to take it the wrong way completely, your eyes were wide and ferocious like an animal that had been cornered.

He scratched the back of his neck before he could find his voice “Doll, if I’ve read this wrong-”

“-You have,” you snapped “You’ve read this wrong and I need you to leave now, please,” you paced until you found his leather jacket hanging across the back of a chair and tossed it to him.

He couldn’t help the anger of rejection that rose up in his chest, and the shame for having read the situation so wrong.

“Fine. Fine. I’m going,” he sighed, pulling his jacket on and stomping towards the door.

“You know what..” he started one hand on the handle, but stopping to face you “Forget it,” he deadpanned, pulling the door open and slamming it behind him.

Work the next few days were less awkward than expected, Bucky and his bike were nowhere to be seen. You’d heard Steve mention to Sam that he was worried that Bucky was gone on another whisky fuelled bender and you couldn’t help the pang of guilt that gnawed away at your stomach.

Days turned into a week with no contact from Bucky and the guilt was eating you alive. You had texted him days ago to apologise, and asking if you could talk it out and explain, but he never replied. Not only were you angry with yourself for fucking everything up but now you were really beginning to worry. 

You were closing the bar by yourself tonight, it was a quiet Tuesday night and business was slow. You knew Steve had a date after work so you dismissed him early so he could go buy her some flowers he’d kissed you on the cheek and almost skipped out of the bar.

It gave you the opportunity to pop your headphones in and listen to your music as you mopped and cleaned. 

It was nice to do a deep a clean without Steve or Sam trying to hurry you out. 

And as you made your way into the back office to put away the takings into the safe your heart almost fell out of your chest.

Bucky was laying back in his office chair, eyes squeezed shut while some girl with her skirt hitched up at the sides was grinding her hips on him, her own head thrown back in ecstasy as she rode him. 

You froze on the spot, you couldn't help the way your stomach sank to your toes in a feeling of betrayal, or the way your eyes stung with tears.

Bucky wasn’t yours, you had seen to that with your stupidity the other night so you had no right to feel the way you were right now and when his electric eyes suddenly bore into yours with an expression you honestly couldn’t read you were backing out of his office quicker than lightning. 

He followed you out into the carpark catching you just as you were about to climb into your truck. 

“Doll,” he reached for you exasperated, “Doll wait, please.” 

You turned to face him, tears rolling down your cheeks, and he reached for you gently, relieved when you didn’t bat him away as he cupped your face.

“I have no right to be crying,” you sighed.

“I don’t understand,” He stuttered, somewhere between annoyed and confused,” I thought you didn’t want me?”

“Bucky, of course I-” You were about to answer when Bucky’s name being yelled across the lot caught both of your attention.

“What the fuck is this?”  The girl who had been with Bucky only moments before came storming over and smacked him straight across the face as hard as she could.

“You always fucking do this shit James,” she cried “This is the last fucking time.”

She looked at you genuinely hurt and for a moment you wanted to apologise, until her expression turned to contempt. 

“Seriously, this is who you keep blowing me off for?” she huffed out a laugh, “Good luck with that, you’ll be crawling back to me in no time.” You felt yourself shrink down to half your size under her words.

She took one last seething glare at Bucky before smacking him again and he made no move to stop her, watching guiltily as she stormed away.

“I deserved that,” he said glumly, you made a face to argue when he cut you off, “No doll, I truly deserve it. Hell if you wanted to have a pop too I would understand.” 

 “Buck,I don’t want to slap you” you sighed and he ran a hand through his hair before kicking at the dirt.

“Then what the hell do you want y/n? Goddamn it.”

You were floundering like a fish out of water, trying to grasp at words and coming up short.

“You wouldn’t understand,” you tried and he cut you off with a pointed finger.

“Don’t give me that shit,” he warned “You literally could not throw me out faster the other day and then you turn up crying when I’m clearly fucking trying to get over you so what is it? You don’t want me but you don’t want anyone else to have me?”  

“No,” you scoffed, your own anger rising now too.

“No” he repeated exasperatedly, “So what do you want?”

“I- I don’t know,” you mumbled. 

“You don’t know?” he goaded and goddamn was he intimidating, looking at you like a predator stalks his prey, waiting for an answer to pounce “Well, I sure as shit can’t figure that out for you sweetheart,” he sighed, running the back of his hand across his lips, before spitting on the ground. 

You were not used to this Bucky, this agitated, whiskey drunk version of him. The one most people were used to. But not you.

“Look, just go,” he sighed eventually, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife.

“I don’t know what you want, but it sure as shit ain’t me. And I'm done with whatever the fuck this is.”

You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, tears welling in your eyes as you reached for the handle of your truck door and pulled it open, gasping back in fright when Bucky slammed it closed suddenly, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He looked like he was going to yell at you but nothing could have prepared you for what came next.

“Don’t go,” he pleaded. “Please don’t go,” 

Trapped between his body and the door of your truck you melted into his touch, whimpering as he leaned forward to capture your lips with his own demanding ones.

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