#and she was literally correct about that one

[patchouii]

It’s so funny in retrospect that the absolute Worst and Most Annoying people in Hannibal were the ones who were correct about all the key details. Abel Gideon was a sexist family annihilator who spotted Hannibal’s yearning for Will while drugged and eating his own leg— “If only that company could be Will Graham.” Freddie Lounds was an amoral journalist who wrote gossip tabloids about horrific crimes and scraped money off the people who suffered from them, and recognized that both Will and Hannibal were tentatively in cahoots and had dark urges— “It Takes One To Know One— Another Shrike In The Nest��.

Frederick Chilton, a washed-up doctor who got his kicks blackmailing inmates into medical experiments, was the only one who caught on to Hannibal’s egotistical taunts and listened to Will, despite his wary dislike of him— “He made a joke about eating my tongue once, it’d be remiss to not at least consider it.” And Mason Verger, who’s the absolute worst person in the show for a laundry list of reasons (and that’s saying a LOT), sees in two meetings what their coworkers and friends can’t— he references a news story about a gay cannibal who killed his lover, and then jokes about literally eating Hannibal’s dick after Will’s face is transplanted onto his.

It’s also more than a little interesting in that I think this ironic phenomenon is likely an intentional choice. All of these characters share a penchant for selfish, amoral behavior and enjoy holding cruel sway over others, and Freddie’s meeting with the FBI where she and Will imply that the other has psychopathic traits, especially considering their jobs and how they do them, supports the central theme of the show— you need to be somehow alike to truly understand someone. Takes one to know one, indeed.

freddie lounds is so funny. she antagonises violent criminals for the entire series. the stories she gets scoops on should be on the news but she writes for her gossipy private website. she's a sensationalist tabloid journalist talking about active serial killers. her hair is amazing. she's a girl's girl. she's career-driven. someone faked her death. everyone hates her. she's right about everything from day one. will's mad about it but he is doing murder now, so... 🤷‍♀️

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

So this is 5k words. Didn't mean for that to happen. This is for BuckTommy Fluffebruary Day Sixteen: Didn't Know They Were Dating AU. This is the one fill that doesn't take place in the same timeline as my other fills and is set in some nebulous period between 405 and 409. So Buck knows about Daniel. Jes-Yun isn't born yet. You can also read this on AO3 here. Tagging @bucktommyfluffebruary

They meet one night when Maddie is asked to cover a shift at the last minute and Chimney begs Buck to step in for a karaoke trivia thing he'd been invited to. When he arrives at the bar, Chimney is sitting with two big guys at a table. One of the guys introduces himself as Sal, and he seems cool enough. The other guy is Tommy, and he's definitely really cool.

“My girlfriend's brother is stepping in for her,” Chimney explains.

“H-hey,” Buck says, waving awkwardly. “I'm Evan. Buck. Evan Buckley.”

It's the least smooth way he's ever introduced himself in his adult life, but he keeps wondering what the hell Tommy's diet and exercise routine is. The guy is massive. He's so warm, though, when he shakes Buck's hand. Literally, because his hands are radiating heat, but he also smiles with his whole face instead of just a polite tilt of his mouth. Buck finds himself smiling back and ducking his head when Tommy lets his hand go.

“Wasn't your girlfriend the secret karaoke weapon?” Sal asks.

“Yeah, but this guy's the secret trivia weapon,” Chimney says, clapping Buck on the shoulder. “You said science and history always gets you, right? Here's your solution.”

Buck flushes and shrugs when Tommy's eyes sweep over him. “I hope I can help.”

He settles in for a night of karaoke trivia, and he's not much help on the pop culture stuff. But there's an entire series of questions themed around popular animals at the LA Zoo, and Buck gets all of them. As he answers, Tommy's blue eyes stay on him, and Buck finds himself answering with more and more confidence. When Celestial Bodies turns out to be the next category, he's quick to answer everything he knows instead of waiting politely for everyone else in the group.

By the end, the Worst Responders (Sal’s idea) win the night, and they sit with a pitcher of beer, their pride, and a Visa gift card each. When Chimney goes to take a call from Maddie and Sal gets up to use the bathroom, Buck suddenly doesn't know what to say to Tommy.

“That was pretty amazing, Evan,” Timmy says, raising his glass.

Buck opens his mouth to correct him, but instead he clinks their glasses and says, “Not so bad yourself, Tommy.”

Tommy's eyes dip as they both take long drinks of their beer, and Buck hopes he doesn't have something on his chin. He wipes it with the back of his hand just to be on the safe side.

“Man, I can't believe you can fly,” Buck says, settling back into his chair. “That's so cool.”

“Well,” Tommy says, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile, “I need the aircraft to fly.”

Buck makes a face at him. “Yeah, I know, but it's amazing. I always wanted to learn. When I was traveling, I'd end up on these tiny planes sometimes and always thought it would be fun.”

“I could maybe show you a few things,” Tommy says, resting his elbows on the table. “My rates are pretty competitive.”

Buck’s reply is cut off by Chimney plopping down next to him.

“Heard a girl talking about you,” Chimney says, nudging Buck and nodding back toward the bar.

He glances but doesn’t really see anyone specifically looking at him. He figures she’ll find him if she’s really interested. His focus goes back to Tommy, who is sliding a coaster around under his finger and smiling to himself a bit, but he doesn’t look all that happy. Instead, he’s just sort of…resigned.

“How competitive?” Buck asks, and Tommy blinks at him.

Tommy looks between Chimney, Buck, and something behind Buck before his eyes settle back on him. “We can figure something out. Honestly, I don’t usually charge friends. Except Sal.”

“For what?” Chimney asks, frowning at his phone screen.

“Thought I might take up flying,” Buck says, shrugging.

Chimney snorts. “Yeah. That’ll last. This kid’s got more hobbies than anyone I’ve ever met. Dude, I think someone stole my credit card number again. Hold up, I gotta call my bank.”

He disappears again, and Buck looks over his shoulder to see Sal is talking to a pretty girl at the bar, and she glances at Buck. When she sees him looking, she smiles shyly before looking back at Sal. If she’s the girl Chimney was talking about, she is pretty cute.

“I don’t have a lot of hobbies,” Buck says, turning his attention back to Tommy. “Well, kind of. I have a lot of interests, I guess. Which, yeah, is kinda weird, but I like the idea of flying. So I would absolutely be down to learn, and I’d be happy to pay for the fuel or your time or whatever. It’s like learning a superpower.”

Tommy smiles and slides his phone over. “Go ahead and put your number in.”

Buck does, noticing that the contact name is already filled in as ‘Evan,’ and he doesn’t bother correcting that either.

By the time they all leave, Buck has Tommy’s number in his own phone and realizes he forgot to get the girl’s number.

–

Flying is so cool, but Buck thinks Tommy might be a maniac. He’ll do maneuvers that don’t feel like they should be physically possible, and then he laughs over the headset. It’s terrifying and amazing, and Buck is flushed and breathless by the time they land on the tarmac at Harbor Station.

“That was awesome!” he says. “Okay, yeah, I owe you a beer. A dozen beers.”

Tommy takes off the headset and smiles. “How about dinner?”

Buck smiles back, though he feels like he’s still trying to catch his breath. “Yeah, okay. I could do dinner.”

–

Micelli’s is nice, and they’ve apparently got good beer and good food. Buck finds out that Tommy’s half Italian on his mom’s side, which explains a lot about his looks. His nose is so regal from the side, and Buck’s found his eyes tracing its shape more than once. His mom was first generation, so Tommy was practically raised by a bunch of older Italian women and his grandfather until he was in high school.

“So when you say the food here is good, you know what you’re talking about,” Buck concludes, and Tommy nods. “Alright, I believe you.”

“What about your family?” Tommy asks, and Buck shrugs. “You don’t have to answer that.”

“No, they’re…fine,” Buck says, shrugging again. He still feels raw when he thinks about his parents. “They’re, uh, back in Pennsylvania. Except Maddie. I think we’re British? Just sort of, uh, WASP-y? But I don’t really know a lot about my family.”

Hell, he knew even less than he ever realized.

“I don’t know a lot about my dad’s family,” Tommy says, and it feels like he understands based on the way he says it. It loosens some of the anxiety that had been building in Buck’s chest. “Scottish, Irish? Something like that. But I never looked too hard. Italians, though, you’d be hard-pressed to find a family that doesn’t want every generation to know every story and legend and the name of every town everyone was ever born in.”

“Family recipes?”

Tommy snorts. “I have a box of them. I’ve been trying to transcribe them just in case something ever happens to them, but there’s so many.”

Buck shrugs. “I could help.”

“Yeah?” Tommy looks surprised at his offer.

“Yeah, I’m kinda good at that kind of stuff,” he admits. “Plus, hey, I wouldn’t say no to learning some new recipes. I feel like I’m finally really getting the hang of cooking. Maybe I can even teach Bobby a thing or two.”

They start talking about the 118, and Buck is surprised at just how different it used to be. From the sound of it, Tommy was really different. Sal, too. And then Tommy felt like he was able to get a new start at Harbor.

“I just didn’t want to die in a closet, you know?” he says, and Buck tries to parse what that could mean. “I wasn’t out at the 118. Everyone thought I was straight until, I don’t know, my last month there? I finally told them right after my transfer went through.”

Buck blinks, realizing he’d somehow totally missed that Tommy’s gay. He realizes his silence could be taken for discomfort and panics. “Th-that’s great! I’m glad you were able to do that. It’s hard. It’s a hard thing to go through.”

“Yeah,” Tommy agrees, smiling softly. “Well, it’s actually just…freeing. Once you get past actually saying the words.”

“That sounds amazing,” Buck says, sighing. It does. The idea of feeling free has always felt like something he’s been looking for. Being at the 118 is the closest thing he’s ever found to that, but he wonders if it feels the same.

Tommy hesitates and starts to say something, but then their server arrives to take their food orders. Buck forgets to ask him what he was going to say, because he starts second-guessing what he was going to order and leans across to ask Tommy about one of the dishes. When Tommy leans in to look at where Buck’s pointing on the menu, his forearm presses against Buck’s and radiates heat the same way his hand did when they met, the same way his whole body did when he'd hugged Buck after their flight and when they met outside the restaurant. He wonders if it's a natural thing for him or if it's his muscle mass that does it.

“So you do like mushrooms?” Tommy asks, and Buck nods. “Yeah, you'll love that, then. But save room for dessert.”

“Okay,” Buck says, unable to keep himself from ducking his head and smiling as Tommy confirms with the server that Buck is getting whatever the hell it was Tommy had pointed to. He hadn't been paying attention.

–

He loves Tommy’s house. It’s got books and movies and records crammed into every available shelf in the living room, and there are cool old tiles in the kitchen and bathrooms that Tommy’s never going to touch even when he updates the rooms.

“Kitchen’s next, but I did a lot of the hard work with the electrical and plumbing already,” Tommy explains. He goes to a cabinet above his fridge and reaches in for an old cigar box. When he stretches for it, his shirt rides up and Buck blinks at the strip of skin that’s exposed. He suddenly feels guilty for staring and forces himself to look at the view of Tommy’s backyard from the window above the sink. “Here they are.”

Tommy sets the box on the counter and flips it open. Inside are old recipe cards, torn out recipes from magazines and ads, swooping writing on yellowed paper, and what looks to be more than one recipe torn out of cookbooks.

They’re killing time before a movie that’s playing at the theater by Tommy’s place, but Buck wants to dive into the recipes and figure out what it was that his family liked or what was important to them, what they held onto across generations, and which ones made little Tommy love desserts so much.

“Can you tell who wrote them?” he asks, carefully turning over a recipe card for some kind of soup made with lentils and sausage.

“Some of them,” Tommy says, leaning over and looking at the card he’s holding. “That was Prozia Camilla, I think. She always wrote her Bs really weird.”

“What’s that?” Buck asks, looking over at Tommy. He realizes he’s close, but it’s not making him uncomfortable. He feels a little warm, but it’s not from discomfort or embarrassment. The heat might be on in the house, or it's just Tommy being a human space heater. “Aunt?”

“Great-aunt,” Tommy clarifies. “Aunt is zia, uncle is zio—pretty easy. Nonna, Nonno–grandma, grandpa. Cugina, cugino–cousin, female or male. You add pro for great-aunts and -uncles, bis for great-grandparents. There’s one that’s in a baggy from Bisnonna Valia, I think she wrote it down when Mussolini was in power.”

Buck carefully picks through the box until he finds it, and he doesn’t take it out. He does inspect it, though. The paper is translucent and faded, the ink a brown-ish color. “What’s it for?”

“Canestrelli. It’s kind of like a shortbread cookie.”

He likes how Tommy says the words in Italian, the way his mouth shapes the vowels and kind of rolls the Rs but not really, the syllables he emphasizes a little differently than the way Buck probably would if he read the word from a page. He’d asked Tommy if he spoke Italian, and he sort of did. He mostly just understood it, but he sounded like he knew it whenever he said any of the words.

“These are amazing,” Buck says softly, rubbing his thumb along the edge of the paper inside its protective plastic. “Is it weird that I wish I knew them? All the people who wrote these down.”

When he glances at Tommy, Tommy’s looking at him and not at the recipe anymore. “No,” Tommy replies softly. “I don’t think that’s weird at all. They would’ve loved you.”

Buck grins. “Really?”

“Definitely.”

He flushes happily at the thought, even if Tommy’s just being nice. When he sets the recipe back in the box, the alarm on Tommy’s phone goes off.

“I kind of want to just look at these,” Buck admits. “But you said the movie’s really good.”

“Evan, it’s Casablanca,” Tommy says dryly. “It’s literally one of the greatest movies ever made.”

“Well, then I guess we have to go,” Buck teases, closing the box and handing it over to him.

When Tommy puts the box back, Buck’s eyes dip to his ass this time. It’s really a work of art. He wonders what kind of squats he does.

–

Buck’s a mess.

“You didn’t tell me it would be sad,” he moans as he snacks on the last of his popcorn on the way to Tommy’s truck. He’d driven, because it was easier than trying to find parking for two cars near the theater.

“A lot of the best romance movies are,” Tommy says. “But I don’t think it’s that sad. He loves her, and he knows she’s going to be happy. It’s not like Ghost or Moulin Rouge or Brokeback Mountain or anything.”

“I’ve never seen those,” Buck admits. “How can it get any sadder?”

“I mean, one of them could’ve died.”

Buck sighs. “Yeah, I guess. But—can you imagine finding the person who makes you feel like that and having to watch them walk away with someone else? People don’t realize how awful it feels to just be left behind.”

He realizes he’s projecting a lot onto a movie that’s eighty years old, but it does suck. Buck would know.

“Sometimes you just want to be the one people will stick around for,” he mumbles.

Tommy bumps their shoulders together gently as they walk. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Buck smiles and bumps his shoulder back. “You say that now.”

“I can’t imagine wanting to leave you behind if I could help it, Evan.”

The way he says it makes Buck’s heart thud in his chest, and for a moment he’s worried about another blood clot. He looks over at Tommy, who’s looking at him, and he smiles.

“Thanks,” he says softly.

Tommy puts an arm around his shoulder and squeezes him close for a moment before they get to the truck. Buck gets into the passenger seat and considers the few kernels of popcorn left. He wonders what Tommy’s favorite happy romance movie is and what it’s like, what he likes about it and the characters, if he identifies more with one than the other.

“So that’s the best romance movie?” he asks instead.

“I mean, that’s subjective, right?” Tommy says, turning on the truck and pulling away from the curb. “I think it’s pretty close to being the most objectively perfect one, yeah.”

“Is it your favorite?”

Tommy considers the question for a moment. “It's up there. It changes, honestly. I really like Love, Actually, but Princess Bride and Moonstruck are amazing, too. Casablanca is pretty perfect, though.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” Buck says, smiling. “I did like it. It just, y’know, made me a little sad. Also, I didn’t realize that whole ‘Here’s looking at you, kid’ thing was a reference. I’ve heard so many people say that and thought it was some idiom I never learned.”

Tommy snorts and shakes his head. “I swear, I will expand your knowledge of movies.”

Buck normally doesn’t really care. He doesn’t have the same attachment to movies that a lot of his friends have, but he likes Tommy showing him things. The flying, the restaurant, the recipe box, the movie—maybe Muay Thai? He knows Eddie does it. Buck’s never really had an interest in it, but Tommy had offered to teach him and Buck had twirled his pasta around his fork and said he’d be interested because nothing sounded cooler. Now that he’s seen the set-up in Tommy’s garage, it would be kind of awesome to have one-on-one lessons and then go inside to make old family recipes.

He looks over at Tommy as he drives, and he notes that Tommy seems as at ease behind a wheel as he is doing anything else. He had also seen the car lift in Tommy’s garage, currently empty but awaiting a Chevelle he’d had his eye on that needed work, and he wonders if he’s always liked cars.

As he watches, he also realizes that Tommy’s side profile is pretty perfect. It’s not just the nose, it’s his entire face. Tommy’s a really handsome guy.

“Evan?” Tommy asks, sounding amused.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

Buck slides down in his seat a little, feeling caught out for some reason. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Tommy slows to a stop at the light and looks over at Buck. He smiles and squeezes Buck’s wrist briefly, his huge hand almost engulfing it. He doesn’t understand how someone his height can be so big. With his free hand, he reaches over and picks up Tommy’s hand, manipulating the digits until they’re flat, and he presses their hands together to compare the size. Buck’s never met someone with bigger hands than his who wasn’t at least six and a half feet tall, but Tommy’s fingers stretch a little further, his palm is a little broader.

Then Tommy turns his palm just a little and curls his fingers until they’re between Buck’s, and Buck curls his fingers, too. He smiles and looks up at Tommy, who’s looking at him intently. It makes Buck’s heart pound again.

A car honks, and Tommy startles a little. He laughs to himself as he continues driving toward his house, both hands back on the wheel, and Buck feels his hand close around nothing, feeling empty.

–

Tommy is walking him to his car, even though it’s parked right in front of his house. They’re talking about the next series of movies the theater is showing—old noir stuff, some of which Tommy’s never even seen.

“That could be cool,” Buck says, putting his hands in his jacket pocket so he won’t reach for Tommy’s hand again. It would be weird. “We can see when our shifts line up.”

“They do them all in two month blocks,” Tommy explains wryly. “So that’s going to be a lot of calendar checking.”

“We can always share them to each other,” Buck points out. “Figure out other days we can do stuff.”

Tommy’s eyes look between Buck’s, down to his chin, and back at his eyes again. “Like what?”

Buck smiles and shrugs. “Anything. I mean, we’re kind of the perfect bar trivia partners. We can go around town and hustle all of them out of their gift cards and small cash prizes. But I really do want to help you with the recipe thing. You really think your family would’ve liked me?”

“Evan, do you have any idea how likeable you are?” Tommy asks, leaning his shoulder against Buck’s door.

“Hey, you’re pretty likeable yourself,” Buck says shyly. “You’re kind of the coolest person I’ve ever—”

He doesn’t get to finish, because there are two fingers under his chin and a pair of lips on his. For a moment, he freezes, because Tommy is kissing him. That should be weird. He’s never had a male friend kiss him on the lips unless it was during Spin the Bottle or under mistletoe, and those were always pecks or done with some reluctance on their part. But he can feel Tommy start to pull away and wants anything but that, so he brings his hand up to Tommy’s shoulder and keeps him there while Buck kisses back.

Tommy’s lips are soft, though his stubble is a little scratchy, but Buck doesn’t mind it. He really doesn’t mind it.

“Was that okay?” Tommy whispers when he does finally pull back.

Buck nods and his eyes drop to Tommy’s lips, which don’t look any different than they did a minute ago, but now he knows how they feel against his. He still has a hand on Tommy’s shoulder and brings his other one up to cup his jaw to keep him still when Buck goes in for another kiss.

It feels better than okay. It feels like a real first—well, second now—kiss. He feels like an alarm bell should be going off somewhere in his head, but all he’s getting is a need to feel more of him, to taste more of him.

They’re kind of making out against Buck’s Jeep, and Buck is definitely going to need to talk to Hen about this. If he likes kissing a guy just as much as he’s liked kissing a girl—hell, more than he’s liked kissing some girls—what does that mean?

Tommy pulls away again and presses their foreheads together. They’re both breathing hard, and Buck wonders if Tommy will ask him to come inside.

“I meant to take this a lot slower,” Tommy says. “You seemed…new. I know Howie doesn’t know, but does anyone?”

Buck wonders if he’d missed something in their conversation. “Know what?”

“That you’re—” he gestures between them. Then he pulls back more and searches Buck’s face. “You are, aren’t you?”

“What?” he asks again, feeling very slow. He doesn’t love the feeling, but he's also still really stuck on the feeling of Tommy's lips.

“Wait, are you?”

“Oh, my god, Tommy, am I what?” he asks, laughing.

“Into guys?”

Buck blinks. “I don’t—I’ve never really thought about it?”

Except for that one time in Texas, but he knew that he came off as flirty sometimes when he didn’t mean to. That hadn’t been TK’s fault. Hell, TK was gorgeous and a really good firefighter, and—oh.

“Oh,” Buck says, raising his eyebrows. “Huh.”

“Are you okay?” Tommy asks, searching Buck’s face for something. He’s not touching Buck anymore, which kind of sucks.

“Yeah.” He looks at Tommy and smiles. “Yeah, I’m great.”

He is. He really is. It’s a little bit of a shock, but he’s pretty sure he’ll be fine. Well, he might need to talk to Hen and Maddie and Bobby.

Then it hits him—Tommy walked him to his car. While the sun was up. In a good neighborhood. After the movies. He’d done the same thing after Micelli’s, after they’d flown, and he’d hugged Buck every time. It had felt good and warm and safe. But Tommy always walked him to his car.

“We were just on a date, weren’t we?” Buck says slowly, then counts. “Like, our third one. Wait, did you take me flying for our first date?”

“I thought I did,” Tommy says, his brows raised. “Did you really have no idea that I was asking you out?”

Okay, yeah, Tommy had said they should go out sometime before they’d left the bar the night they’d met, and Buck had agreed and Tommy had grinned. It had been really distracting.

“Huh,” he says again. “Wait, you waited until our third date to kiss me?”

“I thought you needed me to take it slow,” Tommy says, leaning his elbows on the hood and burying his face in his hands. “I thought you were new to this.”

“I mean, I am,” Buck points out. The way Tommy’s leaning makes his ass pop out a little, and his jeans are tight enough that they definitely qualify as date jeans. “Maybe not that new, actually. It’s normal to check out a hot guy’s ass, right?”

Tommy looks at him incredulously. “Evan, how would I know what straight guys do? I’m a Kinsey six.”

“Right,” Buck realizes, though he’s still not clear on the second part. “What’s a Kinsey six?”

“It’s a scale for sexuality. I’ve never actually been attracted to any women.”

Buck frowns. “Really?”

He’s found a lot of guys attractive, because that was just a thing Buck could see as a person with eyes. Hell, one of the first things he thought about Connor was that he had a killer smile. Then he had followed him to Los Angeles. From Peru.

“Oh,” he realizes, pulling out his phone and looking up ‘Kinsey.’ “Two? I don’t know, actually. I’ll have to think about it.”

Tommy huffs out a laugh. “You’re not, I don’t know, mad?”

Buck frowns and puts his phone back in his pocket. “Why would I be mad?”

“A lot of guys get mad when another guy kisses them if they weren’t really expecting it.”

“That doesn’t make sense. You can just tell someone you’re not interested.” His eyes flick down to Tommy’s mouth. “Or figure out that you are.”

“Are you sure—”

“You should come over so I can cook you dinner,” Buck says, suddenly wanting nothing more than to see Tommy in his loft and at his table. In his bed? Yeah, probably. “Saturday?”

Tommy smiles. “You mean tomorrow?”

Buck thinks about it. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

When Tommy kisses him again, Buck wraps his arm around his shoulders and spreads his hand over Tommy’s side. Tommy moans softly against his mouth, and Buck’s lips part further so he can tease his tongue against Tommy’s lips.

“Jesus, kid,” Tommy breathes when the kiss breaks, and it sends a bolt of heat through Buck’s belly. So, yeah, definitely guys. Guys are good. At least one is.

Buck’s phone goes off, and he reluctantly checks it. Maddie’s due pretty soon, so he can’t ignore his phone just in case it’s her.

It is, and Buck answers quickly.

“Maddie?” he says before mouthing an apology to Tommy. “Are you okay? Is the baby—”

“Buck,” she says. “Are you still coming over for dinner?”

Oh, right. The reason they’d done the matinee show for the movie. Buck’s supposed to be having a sibling dinner with his sister. He’s now late for it and feels like a dick.

“I am so sorry, I forgot. I’ll be there in twenty, twenty-five minutes? Do you need me to get anything on the way?”

“If you could get me enough garlic bread to fill your car, I’d be so happy.”

Buck snorts. “I can get some. Maybe not that much. But I’ll stop, just turn the oven on. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay!” she says brightly. “Bye.”

“Bye,” he says, hanging up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize what time it was, and I did actually forget. I got, uh, distracted.”

Tommy smirks. “‘Distracted’?”

Buck swallows and nods, his eyes going to Tommy’s lips again. “Yeah.”

“God, you’re adorable.”

He’s never had a guy call him that before. He likes it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Tommy says. “When do you want me over?”

“S-six?” Buck says, feeling himself sway toward Tommy like they’ve got magnets in their mouths. “Five. You start early on Sunday, right?”

“So do you,” Tommy points out.

“Oh, yeah,” Buck says dumbly. He goes in for another kiss, but it’s quick. Tommy pushes him back gently with a hand to his chest and nudges their noses together briefly before stepping away. “Bye.”

“Bye, Evan,” Tommy says, smiling and going toward his house.

Buck fumbles with his keys before he finally unlocks the Jeep, and he watches Tommy until he goes inside. It’s a thing he’s always done on dates. When Tommy waves before heading inside, Buck waves for a long time until the door is closed.

“Fuck, okay, garlic bread,” he says, turning the Jeep on. He grins the entire way to the store.

While he walks through Ralph’s, he also looks for stuff to use for the dinner he’s going to make for Tommy. On their date. Their fourth date.

Buck knows he’s standing in the middle of the baking ingredients aisle and smiling at his phone like an idiot. He knows that he’s going to spend half of his Saturday trying to perfect some kind of dessert. He knows he can’t wait to see Tommy and that he’s felt that way every time he’s seen him since they met.

[checkeredflagggs]

Febuwhump Day 17: Power Instability

pairings: gen

summary: a story about y/n, Redbull’s new second driver, told in non-sequential order

a/n: I love febuwhump and have participated before for other fandoms but this is a first for me — attempting to compete it via smau only. Hopefully I can write a complete story eventually and I will be posting it on its own masterlist in the correct order to read but it’ll be written based on the febuwhump prompt list! @febuwhump

a/n2: based on the 2024 year; sorry checo but you got replaced earlier!

Masterlist | Taglist

y/n_rb

liked by logansargeant, maxverstappen1, francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, and 2,824,924 others

y/n_rb: Vegas baby!!

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alexandrasaintmleux: Tu es magnifique sous ces lumières, mon bébé. You’re stunning in these lights, my baby

↳y/n_rb: not as stunning as you babe! Blinding to look at actually

user1: this is gonna be your race girl!

↳y/n_rb: hell yeah it is!

francisca.cgomes: Plus que quelques courses, mon amour, avant que tu ne reviennes vers moi...Only a couple more races, my love, before you come back to me…

↳pierregasly: we just saw each other?

↳y/n_rb: she was obviously talking to me?? liked by francisca.cgomes

↳pierregasly: when you least expect it, I’m gonna get you back

↳y/n_rb: …oh no…I’m so scared…

user2: Vegas looks good on you!

↳y/n_rb: everything looks good on me!

↳francisca.cgomes: Oui!

↳alexandrasaintmleux: Magnifique!

↳lilymhe: stunning!

user3: are charles_leclerc, pierregasly, and alex_albon aware they’re losing their girlfriends?

↳charles_leclerc: yes

↳pierregasly: I’ve been fighting this fight all year

↳alex_albon: you literally just met y/n lilymhe!!

↳lilymhe: she buys me flowers and calls me pretty liked by y/n_rb

↳alex_albon: SO DO I!!

Bluesky

pierregasly

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, and 778,445 others

pierregasly: a story told in a few photos

view all comments

maxverstappen1: she’s actually going to kill you this time

↳pierregasly: who said she’d know who it was?

↳maxverstappen1: It was nice knowing you

charles_leclerc: you are one of my closest friends but I will not be hiding you from her wrath

↳pierregasly: it won’t be needed!

↳charles_leclerc: that’s what they all say

oscarpiastri: thanks for the warning — I’ll be making popcorn and getting a camera to record this

↳pierregasly: it’ll be fine

↳oscarpiastri: I think you’re forgetting Austria

↳pierregasly: no I’m not. It’ll be fine

↳landonorris: good luck mate

alex_albon: Is this gonna lead to jail time? Do I need to get bail ready?

↳logansargeant: knowing y/n it’s probably better have a shovel

↳alex_albon: concerning

↳logansargeant: yup

user4: did you block her or something? Cause usually she’d already be here making fun of you

↳pierregasly: yes she’s been blocked

Bluesky

Private Messages, The Grid (Unprofessional)

f1

liked by y/n_rb, maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, and 2,183,912 others

tagged: pierregasly

f1: On just lap 15, the Las Vegas Grand Prix comes to an end for Alpine’s Pierre Gasly who had to retire due to power instability with his engine

view all comments

user5: is this…is this karma? From y/n?

↳y/n_rb: karma? A voodoo doll? Who knows…

user6: I knew y/n works fast on her revenge but damn this was extreme!

↳y/n_rb: I’m not saying I had anything to do with it but HE GAVE ME CHOCOLATE COVERED BRUSSEL SPROUTS

↳user7: girl they’re gonna put you under investigation for these statements!

y/n_rb: I’m prepared to swear under oath I had nothing to do with this

↳user8: damn fia leave our girl alone

↳y/n_rb: thank you random stranger!

y/n_rb: karma is a cat, purring in my lap cause it loves me?

↳user9: does this mean you’re getting a cat?

↳y/n_rb: idk maxverstappen1 what do you think

↳maxverstappen1: absolutely

Taglist

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[flowersbane]

my humble offering to the rookanis community:

de riva! rook & lucanis meet face to face for the first time at viago’s “coronation” as fifth talon.

notes: • rook is a fledgling at this point • i use she/her pronouns for rook • unedited because i literally wrote this on a whim lol • written as a one-shot but idk if ppl like it i have one more idea for a second chapter

Viago’s coronation was a soirée of all the things she hated. Politics, niceties, formalities, and ceremony. She was halfway through her third glass of wine when she realized she had indulged too heavily in drinks. The room tilted. She staggered to keep herself upright. Fuck, she thought. Viago is going to kill me.

Pulling her hood over her head and her mask over her face, she slunk off, into the shadows of the grand hall in hopes of avoiding him and thereby his ire. Most of the other Talons were here, but Caterina Dellamorte had yet to arrive. The idea of the First Talon not attending set her on edge. Her absence would effectively tell the other houses that she did not support Viago’s rise to power. If such problems began plaguing Viago’s rule so quickly…

She ran into something, which was entirely unlike her. There shouldn’t be a pillar here…

There was not a pillar there. As she turned, her narrowed eyes met a pair of brown ones. Lucanis Dellamorte. She would recognize him anywhere. Even here, in this low light where he was unexpected.

“You—”

He placed a finger over her lips.

Alarm shot through her, immediately sobering her up as she considered every implication of him sneaking around House de Riva.

“I can explain—”

She shoved his hand away, brandished her dagger, and aimed it at his throat in a single, swift motion. “Then you’d better do so quickly,” she warned.

“This is an overreaction I assure you—”

“Explanation. Now.”

Lucanis sighed. He seemed far too comfortable at knife point for her liking. She hated how in-control he seemed, even though she should be the one in power in this situation. “I arrived a few minutes ago. Caterina will be here soon, but she wanted me to tell Viago that she was running late.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you were sneaking around.”

He lifted his shoulders in a casually helpless manner. “I’m not particularly fond of crowds. I thought I might save myself the headache of small talk by remaining… inconspicuous.”

She didn’t believe him. But of course she didn’t believe him. What kind of lame excuse was that? ‘Oh, I’m feeling shy so I had to slink around in darkness at another house’s celebration’? Please.

“The death of the former Fifth Talon must have Viago on edge,” Lucanis observed. “Just how many of House de Riva’s Crows are patrolling from the shadows this evening?”

She realized he had misinterpreted their meeting and mistaken her status. Well, she wasn’t about to correct him on either accounts. “That’s not for you to know,” she said. “Just know that House de Riva is always watching.”

He bowed in an almost mocking manner. “I will keep that in mind.”

Tsking, she withdrew her weapon from his neck. “You’d better, Dellamorte.”

He remained unbothered, the corner of his lips even turning more upwards as he spoke again. “Now, may I continue on my way?”

Irked into spitefulness by his dismissive demeanor, she practically bared her teeth at him when she said, “no. If what you say is true, you should have no problem with me accompanying you to see the Fifth Talon.”

“You’re a suspicious one, aren’t you? I can’t imagine why being in a room full of assassins would put someone on such high alert.”

Her expression remained flat. “Let’s go.”

She resisted the urge to push him forward, into the light of the party. He may have been caught sneaking around House de Riva, but he was still the grandson of the First Talon. She wouldn’t get away with mistreating him too much. Unfortunately.

Fortunately, Lucanis followed her without argument or complaint. She got the vague sense that he was amused by her display, which only served to make her more irritated.

She wove through the assemblage of assassins as she brought herself and the Demon of Vyrantium before Viago.

She removed her hood and mask. He regarded her with a silent question, to which she answered by flicking her head in Lucanis’s direction. Viago was good at politics, unlike her, so he was able to keep his expression polite as he greeted the First Talon’s grandson.

“Lucanis,” he practically sung, making her wince. Nothing made her more uneasy than watching Viago charm someone. So used to the cold, direct way he spoke to her, it simply felt… wrong to see him like this; as though she were staring at some unknown creature parading around in his skin. “Good of you to stop by… I assume on behalf of the First Talon? I hope nothing has happened to her?”

“Not at all,” said Lucanis. “We had a bit of trouble with our carriage, so she sent me ahead to inform you of the situation and assure you that she will be attending your celebration.”

The unpracticed eye would not have caught the flicker of relief flash across Viago’s face. “Ah, I see. Thank you for going out of your way to tell me this. Please, enjoy the festivities our house has to offer. We are all very honored to host the members of House Dellamorte tonight.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Lucanis flashed her a smug look that seemed to say told you so; which she thought was ridiculous. It wasn’t like she wanted to be right. Clicking her tongue, she turned on her heel and stalked out of the ballroom. If she had to spend one more second in this torturous environment, she would start making everyone else’s problem. Especially Viago’s. It would cost her, but it would serve him right for making her attend this stupid party.

As she left, Lucanis turned back to Viago.

“I don’t recognize her. One of your new Crows?”

Viago shook his head. “She’s still a Fledgling. We’re… close, so I had her attend…” Then, his eyes narrowed as though he suspected he already knew the answer to his question before he asked it. “Why? Did she say something to upset you? She’s never been good at playing nice.”

A ghost of a smile danced over Lucanis’s face. “Not at all. She’s amusing.”

Viago snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”

- + - + - + -

related reading: rook de riva headcanons

[givemeanaccountalready]

Same anon as before, throwing in this ramble into your asks, hope you don't mind (feel free to ignore and delete if you do tho)

Things aren't really adding up with how Milgram works.

K, so, those voted guilty at trial 2 apparently got restrained. So, again, how the fuck did Haruka die?

But also, remember the Mahiru trial 2 sprite? Standing. On a leg with a cast. And yet, during her voice drama, we literally hear her get inside with a wheelchair, and she's mentioned to be using one (until her condition worsened so much due to Shidou's "care" that she ended up bedridden). So where's the wheelchair on the sprite?

Tbh, I feel like the way sprites get drawn is more for symbolism purpose rather than them being actually restrained like that.

Ann ee ways, this trial I'll be voting everyone inno.

Yuno and Kazui didn't do anything wrong throughout the previous trials, Fuuta's case is very common (in Milgram fandom especially, ironically enough) so I feel like it's hypocritical for us to vote him guilty and to make him suffer and spiral even more, and Muu has clearly not changed at all so punishing her through voting is not gonna help and she should face the consequences for her actions outside of milgram. Kotoko and Amane are unique cases, but I feel like they should be voted inno too.

For Amane, we are to blame for how she turned out. Voting her guilty first trial, when her MV showed her helping a cat and then getting punished for practicing medicine, sent a very clear message to her that "medicine = bad, if you help people, you deserve punishment". And then when we got more detailed visual of what she went through in next trial, we voted her inno, which sent a message "things you were taught are correct and you should indeed punish the ones who go against the teaching". It's no wonder she ended up killing Shidou, especially if it turned out that Mahiru died before he did, which means Amane would consider her early death to be his fault.

Kotoko, there's not much to do about her. We first judged for her crime alone, and that is it. Based on what we saw, she killed someone who did, indeed, deserve to die (and that crime already was judged outside of milgram). Her actual reason for being in Milgram is, without a doubt, someone else's death, who's death she blames herself for (since, for Milgram, you don't actively have to commit a murder or even admit you feel guilty, you can simply believe something is considered a murder, example. Yuno case, or feel like you're responsible for their death, example. Fuuta, Mahiru and Kazui), but we haven't seen that in MV (yet). There was no way we could have known she'd start beating up people who were voted guilty if we voted her innocent. Putting her through further punishment now to try to get her to learn that what she did is bad will not work, just like with Muu. It's pointless, and she's not facing proper consequences (and she likely never will because another guilty might get her killed, which won't make up for violence she inflicted on prisoners that resulted in one eventually dying, but an inno will result in her being freed from milgram, where, again, she'll never face consequences for that violence because it happened inside milgram).

For Mikoto though, I think we should finally vote based on his crime. So far, first voting was because people thought he was faking DID (despite the fact that it was plainly explained to the audience that he definitely does have it, and the way milgram works makes it impossible to fake DID since it differentiates each alter as its own soul), and he got voted guilty for this. Second trial, we voted him inno to, well, basically "fix" his DID (and it didn't fix shit, we just forced John into going dormant, which, surprise surprise, turned out to be horrible and is making Mikoto suffer even more now). He's literally the only character we were voting based on his disorder rather than actually judging him. I'd personally want him to be voted innocent so that he could have a proper trial outside of milgram.

Hi anon! Never apologize for entering my ask box. It’s open to all. And I love listening to rambles, because I ramble so much myself. It's nice hearing others do it too.

First thing first, holy crap that was an amazing catch by you about Amane. I didn’t even think of Amane’s verdicts like that. We have no idea what or how much of our collective thoughts the prisoners, especially the ones voted Guilty, hear/feel. Since Jackalope described their beliefs being rejected, it may be reasonable to assume they only hear the bad, while the ones voted Innocent may hear bits of everything, the good and the bad. But, even though they can hear us, for the Innocent, the decision to accept or reject our thoughts is theirs, while the Guilty seem to have to rely on their mental fortitude to reject the bad feedback.

Let me start with those voted Innocent during Trial 1. Haruka and Muu both highly value and covet validation, so it’s no surprise that they would accept our affirmations without much thought. Yuno voiced her disgust with being seen as pitiful and being forced into prostitution and corrected it. Shidou and Kazui were also voted Innocent and rejected what we thought of them. Kotoko was probably going to do her thing regardless of our vote, because she believes Es doesn’t have it in them to punish the Guilty right. I think her Innocent verdict during Trial 1 emboldened her to go as far as she did. If she was Guilty Trial 1, then someone else would have acted negatively in-between Trials 1 and 2, and she could have been an acting force against any chaos and used that to bargain for her fang position, stressing to Es that her freedom of movement needs to be maintained like Shidou had argued. Someone was going to be a bad actor in-between Trials, if only to up the stakes like Kotoko was able to.

But back to the pushback for the Guilty prisoners. Mikoto doesn’t discuss what the voices told him, and that’s probably because he doesn’t get the chance to. His second audio drama is mostly John and Es talking, rather than Mikoto. Fuuta is quick to point out that Kotoko told him that Es’s forgiveness gave her the sanction to beat him to a pulp. But his focus is more on Kotoko’s violence and Es’s hypocrisy, and so we only get a tidbit of him listing a few things the voices told him, “Countless voices, judging me with all sorts of words… just for interest, just for fun, just because they don’t like me.”

Mahiru also mentioned hearing the voices between Trials 1 and 2, “Voices saying I couldn’t be forgiven.” And like Fuuta, she does question why she can’t be forgiven. She takes it a step further and says, “To not forgive me is to take the act of loving away from me. That’s the same as not being alive,” and, “So… if this love isn’t allowed, then I don’t mind dying.”

Amane seemed to be the most resilient, because of her repeated rejections of what the voices told her. What we do hear of what the voices told her are things we know she hates: pity because she is a kid. Amane was very vocal about hating that kind of treatment back in Trial 1. I was so focused on her outside rejection of pushback on her religious beliefs, I totally neglected the idea that she may have internalized that we agreed with her punishment. Like damn… that’s a sucker punch right in my heart’s gut.

But I skipped over what you first said. Questioning how symbolic the sprites are compared to reality is a good idea. Like there is currently no way for Muu and Kotoko to independently eat, drink, or even use the toilet with how their restraints are now. That or Milgram managed to remove their need for that, but someone surely would have said something by now, right?! And seriously, how did Haruka manage to kill himself? Could he have starved himself to death in Milgram? But if Milgram could remove your ability to act or experience a biological function like menstruation, surely, it can remove the need for food and drink and restroom needs. And his hands were most likely restrained, so he must have had to get creative to do it.

Now, about voting this time around… other people have said this, and mine is probably not going to be anywhere near as elegant. I know the fandom is pretty global, but growing up, did you ever hear the phrase, “You just lost the game,” from another kid? It is a dumb game that you lose simply by remembering it exists. Basically, rage bait on the jungle gym. There was no way to actually win that game, and I bring that up because I don’t think there was ever going to be a way to win Milgram. As a fandom, we can point fingers at each other all we'd like about if or what verdict or prisoner destroyed all our attempts to do damage control, but I really think that all ten prisoners were doomed by the narrative, because Milgram is not a friendly entity. No truly friendly entity would go to the degree of the restraints we've seen on the prisoners. And not just the physical ones, but the mental restraints as well. Based on what I've mentioned earlier, the Guilty prisoners can reject our rejection of them, just like how the Innocent prisoners are free to do the same to our affirmations; but, the toll it takes to do so is much higher, so it's harder for the Guilty prisoners to resist the bombardment of awfulness they get from us. To varying degrees, the prisoners have maintained their own sense of autonomy. And they will not bend to our will just because we said so, but only if they believe we said the right thing. In that respect, the prisoners have more agency than Es--their warden--does because Es gives whatever verdict we say to and then gives themself a reason for that verdict later.

And this doesn't even include considering the meta side of things. Yamanaka and others on his team have seen our comments on the music videos and across multiple social media platforms. I believe that the stakes were going to increase across trials regardless of who was Innocent or Guilty, and if it wasn't Kotoko inflicting harm on other prisoners between Trials 1 and 2 and posing a threat to others between Trials 2 and 3, then another prisoner would have been assigned the role as the bad guy. I entered the fandom late, sometime before Purge March came out, and looking back, I think that's clear. To put it more simply, at least one prisoner would have been hurt between Trials 1 and 2, at least one prisoner would have posed a serious threat between Trials 2 and 3, with at least one prisoner dying being somewhere between a serious risk and a guaranteed threat. Our choices influenced who did what and to what extent, and that while we were meant to try to mitigate the damage done, there was a degree of inevitability that something would have happened. And that's not to say, we the audience should wipe our hands clean of this. We are as much of a player in this game as Es and Jackalope. The prisoners are our pawns, and we did not do a good job of taking care of them. I know that's a strange way to put it, since calling others pawns has a very negative connotation to it, but relative to us, but we essentially played god and now we are reaping what we've sown.

So, Trial 3 voting... for the sake of not causing further harm, I want to vote all Innocent, even if I don't think I could find it in me to forgive their original murder, and this doesn't include what I think about certain people's actions in Milgram. But, I'm wary that this is going to blow up in our faces. An amendment to "All Innocent" would be "Sacrifice One or Two of the Guiltiest to Sate Milgram's Need for Justice," but that just sounds immensely cruel and will probably also blow up in our faces. I think we're damned if we do and damned if we don't, so we might as well vote "All Innocent" and pray for the best. I think it's the kindest option, so I think I want to go for it too.

My biggest worry is what will happen when the third trial is over. My final song agenda has changed from something hopeful to something more grim. The final song will most likely include Es making a choice, and I'm hoping that it's going to be a rejection of their role in response to what Milgram plans to do with the prisoners once Trial Three finishes. I think that it will involve killing the prisoners, though I'm not know if all prisoners who have been voted Guilty at least once will be targeted, or if it will be anyone who receives a Guilty verdict during this Third Trial. I don't have any basis for this, "Milgram Death Penalty Ending," but I've been thinking about Es's role after I had finally finished my Mikoto post. I think that Yamanaka has been setting Es up to make a serious decision over whether they will side with Milgram or with the prisoners. Throughout the past two trials, the prisoners have called out Es for their role in Milgram. While Es has pushed back on their criticism, most of their denial sounds weak, and it's clearly an attempt by Es to keep their conscience clean. Es believes that someone in their position should be right and just, and like Fuuta and Kotoko, Es wants to be seen as a hero, or at the very least, the good guy in this scenario, by removing themself from the prisoners' actions. Maintaining this degree of separation will fail Es once they learn of the three prisoners' deaths, and I think that this will impact Es's upcoming choice.

Es's third trial sprite shows them discarding their warden's hat and cap, as well as their gloves and key necklace (which I thought was the cord that kept their cloak on their shoulders). This gives me hope that they will waver and align themself with the prisoners. I'd like to believe in Es, because screw it, I like to believe that individuals will do the right thing, even though humanity can be an absolute cesspool of callous viruses, so I can get up and face the day. As seen when Es interrogates Haruka, Fuuta, and Amane, Es can be a petty, hypocritical bully when they are at their worst. But Es also has a moral code, a heart, and a belief that they need to see their responsibilities through to the end, so I'm hoping the good in them motivates them to side with the prisoners if Milgram forces Es to choose a side.

Throughout Milgram, there has been an emphasis on obtaining information through direct and indirect means. Jackalope has dangled a number of questions over Es's head (and ours as well) about what will happen next, only to smugly assure Es that those worries are not for the guard to concern themself with. We should just focus on the crime at hand and the judgment we think it should receive. Except, the reveal of Trial 2 pretty much drilled into us that nothing we do is in a vacuum, and we will see ripple effects that we didn't even think would happen. As we move into the third trial, I think Kazui's words from his first voice drama will come back to haunt us, "In other words, we're divided into positions of guard and prisoner, but we're both playing roles due to our lack of information."

The third trial songs are probably going to feature the most violent, selfish, and/or cruelest versions of the prisoners. Using our responses to what happened between Trials 1 and 2, Yamanaka and his team know about the fandom's attachment to their characters, and they are probably going to try to override the desire to shield the prisoners from further harm with the idea of, "Are these really the people you want to save? Do they even deserve it?" We are in for hell, and I am ready.

Innocent for all, I think. Sorry, this turned into a bit of an Es ramble. But it was awesome to hear your thoughts, anon!

[howlingday]

The Bridge

Yang: Wait, wait... I could make this bridge my new thing. I could do a whole bit here. Just be like, "Get the fuck off my bridge!" No riddle, no nothin'.

Jaune: (Walks up with Ruby)

Yang: YOU MUST ANSWER MY RIDDLE THREE!

Jaune: (Runs away, Screaming)

Ruby: Shit! Okay, what are the riddles?

Yang: Riddle one~!

Ruby: Riddle one. Okay.

Yang: What's your favorite color?

Ruby: Uh...

Yang: YES! Yellow is the correct answer! Okay, to make it easier, I'll give you a double riddle next.

Jaune: (Walks over from other side)

Yang: Shit! Fuck! I didn't expect to get two at the same time. Like, from both sides. Oh, fuck, the economy is gonna be in fucking shambles now...

Jaune: ...

Yang: Look, dude, she's answering my riddle three, so if you could wait for a sec, I'll get to you.

Ruby: Why not have him do the next riddle?

Yang: Alright, alright. This goes against common riddle three logic, but I'll- I'll concur. Jaune, you gotta answer my riddle three if you want to cross me... bridge.

Jaune: I- I don't know riddles.

Ruby: YOU DON'T KNOW RIDDLES?!

Yang: Jaune, Jaune- Look, I- I need you to try, okay? This is gonna be my character for the whole next week. I planned this for like-

Ruby: You literally just hopped onto the first bridge you say.

Yang: ...I don't know what she's talking about. She's not even on the bridge- YOU'RE NOT EVEN ON THE BRIDGE! Look! (Jumps over, Points)

Jaune: (Walks onto bridge)

Ruby: HEY!

Yang: Wha- OH NO! WAIT A MINUTE! AAAGH, FUCK!

Jaune: Okay, here's... Here come the riddles... Right now... Here we go...

Ruby: Are... Are you looking up riddles?

Yang: He can't do that.

Ruby: He's literally pulling out his scroll and looking up riddles.

Yang: ...

Ruby: ...Is he still there?

Yang: (Crosses the bridge, Sees Jaune flee) GET THIS MOTHERFUCKER!

Jaune: GUYS, LOOK, A HORSE!

Yang: (Turns) Where?!

Ruby: Is... Is that it? No, wait, I think that's just two guys dressed up as a horse.

Yang: I think that counts. Do we turn around now or (Turns, Jaune's gone) HEY, HE'S GETTING AWAY! (Chasing) Where'd he go?!

Ruby: Oh, the scroll says he's over here! Maybe this guy saw where he went. Excuse me, sir! Hey, look, we're trying to find this guy and beat him up.

Yang: Yeah, he's a tall, blond guy, kinda looks like you, but he doesn't have a black moustache on his face.

Jaune: Oh, him? Yeah, he went that way. Said something about going to Vacuo.

Ruby: Thank you! C'mon, Yang!

Yang: Thanks. (Follows Ruby) He seemed nice.

Ruby: Yeah. Kinda weird that he looks exactly like Jaune except for the black moustache.

Yang: ...Wait a minute. Hang on a sec... I didn't like the look of his face, either! LET'S GO KICK HIS ASS!

[seitmai]

Ahh so many thoughts

“I’m not going back on what I said, Steve. If you ask me, I’m ready.” Steve couldn’t believe his luck. “How much is that promise worth to you, Peach? Because when I make a promise, I keep it.”

“Well, I need you to trust me. And I need to ask you a question." ���Understood.” Steve kneeled at the side of the bed, those eyes focused on you. He looked like a little boy. And then he asked you a very grown up question.

Ahhh I love the comparison of him looking like a little boy asking a grown up question 😍

“This place is… it’s amazing, Steve. I can’t believe we just did that.” “More amazing now that you’re here. And you better believe it.”

🥰🥰🥰

“I have something for you…a wedding gift”

Wedding gift? Have I missed something lmao?

“That’s what we are. It’s what you do for me. Make me want to be a better man.” You exhaled, your lips parting slightly as you turned around in his arms. “Steve. You are a good man. You’re just doing things in a slightly unconventional way. You’re talking to the queen of unconventional. Remember where we met?”

Haha fair

“You’ve been hanging around Bucky too long.” Steve chuckled, tilting your chin up with a knuckle. He was happy. “You’re right. But anyway, the necklace is for tomorrow, I mean the Gala tonight. Something to remind you that no matter who else is in the room... you’re my wife."

Ahhh i can't with them

"You have a dance studio?" "You have a dance studio," he corrected.  "I arranged for it to be started while we were in Hilton Head and it was just finished yesterday. I wanted you to have a place to move. To feel free while you’re in Brooklyn."

He knew right away what he wants and went the extra mile before being sure it would work

You went to the pole and grabbed it and leaned out, checking it. It was sturdy and conditioned. You twirled a little and came to rest, the pole between the ass cheeks of your leggings. Steve’s look became hungry, and his cock jumped in his sweats. If he was thinking of sleep earlier, he was wide awake now.  And some parts of him were more awake than others. 

🤭🤭🤭

“So… you had a dance studio built, for me, while we were in Hilton Head? Me, a woman who was threatening your life?”

Iconic behavior of both of them hahah

“No touching unless I give permission. That’s the rule in Peach’s Parlor.” Steve cocked his head, grinning now. “Peach’s Parlor? So you like it? You taking ownership of the place?”

Duhh she's taking ownership

He was putting the cart before the horse, but he wanted to be your baby daddy so bad. He head was in the clouds as you hooked one leg around the pole, arching your back as you slid downward in a controlled descent, your body moving with the music, sensual and confident. 

This is literally not putting the cart before the horse for those two 😅 after this wedding that apparently happened, her already being pregnant would not be out of the ordinary, like true to them they should already have a three year old or something, talking about unconventional 😂

Steve almost got lost there, but when you whispered, “Good boy,” he forgot how to breathe. He didn't know he liked that. but the fact that you'd guessed it made you even more perfect for him. 

🤭🤭🤭

“Fuck, Peach… You trying to kill me?” Steve murmured, his voice low and rough. “We just got married.” “How is it you married me, and I hadn’t even sucked your cock yet?” Steve chuckled and then got serious. “Must be true love.”

Must be 🤷🏻‍♀️🤭

When he saw that you were going to kneel, he quickly moved a pillow from the chaise for you to settle in front of him. He then lifted his hips from the couch and pulled down his sweats and boxers in one move.

Thoughtful and ready to go at once

Inspired, you took him as far as you could, until your lips were stretched to the limit and tears coursed down your face. You inhaled the musky scent of him in the hair at the base of his cock and looked back up to watch his contracting abs and heaving chest, his open mouth and those mesmerizing eyes. This was a fucking beautiful man.

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

“You’re a fucking goddess. Wanna cum down your throat, Peach, but don’t swallow our kids. Need ‘em inside you.”

Someone is really eager to be a dad👀

“Can’t waste a drop.” “You are filthy slut, Mr. Rogers.” He laughed. “Only for you, Mrs. Rogers.”

They are a perfect match 🤭 

"This isn’t a race. I’m never gonna be jealous of you, girl.” You grinned back. “I’m pissed that I wasn’t able to be there, though.” You sighed. Your one regret.

Valid

“Because when I’m with him, it makes sense. The way he looks at me, the way he is with me—it doesn’t feel rushed. It just feels… right.”

🥹🥹🥹

“I know you think that I feel some kind of way, but I know you girl. I was shocked, but not surprised..” She laughed and you shook your head. “Running off and getting married is so you. It’s so Steve too when you think about it.”

She's like: bitch, I saw this one coming 😂

“You’re right,” she replied. I’m secure. It will happen. And just at the right time for us. And no matter what, Peach. You are never gonna lose me as your biggest fan, no matter what.”

I'm sure the wait won't be long 🤭

You hugged each other so hard, the stylists had to touch you back up.

I'm sure it was a great, much needed hug 🫶🏻

“No comment?” Steve exhaled, stepping closer, his voice rough around the edges. “You already know, Mrs. Rogers.”

👀👀👀

“You know if you keep giving me gifts like this, you’re going to spoil me.” His eyes darkened, and his hand came to rest on your hip, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress. “That’s the plan,” he murmured, voice low, “Mrs. Rogers.”

He is ready to spoil her rotten

"You're going to get enough of watching us like a drama." "Never. You two are my favorite romcom."

Fair haha

Sharon was clearly not happy, but fuck that bitch.

Period!

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.” Steve tactfully removed his arm from her grasp while the fingers on his other hand reached for you and rested low on your back, his thumb stroking a slow, deliberate circle against the sequined fabric of your gown. “It’s been two days, Sharon,” he replied, his tone clipped. And annoyed.

I can feel Steve rolling his eyes haha

Your cousin and Bucky moved closer, probably because she clocked what was going on.

They are ready for the drama 😂🤭

“You know what’s really refreshing, Sharon? Watching a woman who wants to fuck around with me and my family and find out.”

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

Bucky stepped forward as Sharon’s jaw twitched into a twisted smile. Bucky whispered in your cousin's ear. She glared at him and started taking off her jewelry, handing her earrings to him. Bucky shook his head and pulled her to the side while she gave him the business.

Hahaha was she getting ready to throw some punches??

Steve pulled you into his arms and kissed your forehead, not bothering to lower his voice when he said, “I’ll remind you how much I love that later.” Your cousin groaned dramatically. “You two are disgustingly perfect for each other.”

“Do you think calling me a stripper is an insult?” Your voice was strong and steady. “I own what I do. I’m damn good at what I do. And you?”  You looked her up and down, eyebrow deadly. “You’re standing here, burning because even with your family ties, and your desperate little designer dress, the only woman Steve wants is me. He married me.” You leaned in even closer. “The difference between us? I don’t have to chase him. I just have to walk into a room.” You smiled at her sweetly. “And he follows.”

The way I screamed reading this 👏🏻

🤭🤭🤭

Peach VII

Peach VI | Peach VIII

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is a mob boss trying to get clean. It’s definitely because he’s in love. With you. He's got you on his turf in NYC. Do you leave there single or a married woman?

Pairing: Art Dealer/Artist/Philanthopist (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

A/N: I have all of the words and none of the confidence. Oh I hope you like it. It may not be everyone's cup of tea. This is part one of the Valentine's weekend bundle. I hope you like it. Let me know my LOVEs! ❤️

This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and DIRECTLY AFTER the events in Peach VI. Your interaction keeps me writing, so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Steve Rogers is rich, bitches!, the big one bling, the event! stripping, pole dancing, lap dancing, sloppy blow job, is this Subby!Steve? woman on top, nipple play (m receiving), size kink, definite breeding kink, raw p in v, a lil bit of cum play. Family feeeelings, Bucky being Bucky, Steve being a simp, jealous bitches, almost catching a case at a gala.

Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

--------

“If you ask me, I’m ready…”

“Is that what you want?” Steve said as his hands gripped your waist.

You couldn't look away from his eyes which were deeply searching yours.

When you moved your hand to his chest, his heart thudded through the muscle and the bone to your fingertips.

You nodded and marveled at how far you both had come in such a short amount of time.

You were sure.

“I’m not going back on what I said, Steve. If you ask me, I’m ready.”

Steve couldn’t believe his luck.

“How much is that promise worth to you, Peach? Because when I make a promise, I keep it.”

His beautiful deep velvet voice had you swooning in his arms. 

“Everything. It’s worth everything, Steve.”

It was unthinkable what you were feeling. But it was oh so right.

Steve’s look was so serious for a moment and then he kissed you again. He flipped you over, torso pinning yours down, abs between your legs. You whined with need as he kissed you, tenderly, his fingers tracing your face.

Then he pulled away.

“Get dressed, Peach.”

“What?

“Get dressed. Pack up. You’re checking out of the hotel.'

You looked at him and cocked your eyebrow.

“Oh. Am I?”

Steve chuckled at your sass. It was so cute. Then he pulled you close and whispered in your ear.

“Yes. You are. Remember I said that I was going to give you what you need, when you need it?”

You shivered at the way Steve handled you.

“Yes, Mr. Rogers.”

“Well, I need you to trust me. And I need to ask you a question."

“Understood.”

Steve kneeled at the side of the bed, those eyes focused on you. He looked like a little boy.

And then he asked you a very grown up question.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal the corridor to Steve’s penthouse at the top of the Rebirth building. There were two doors on the entire hallway, both mirroring each other. 

Steve walked beside you to one of the entrances, his hand resting lightly at the small of your back, a touch both casual and possessive. 

Your mouth dropped open when the door opened on floor-to-ceiling windows framing the Manhattan skyline. 

The view went on forever.

"Jesus, Steve. This is… Beautiful!"

Your eyes shone as you turned in a circle to take in the room.

"Wait until you see the rest."

You were wandering now, your fingertips trailing over the sleek countertops, the rich leather of his couch, and the curated artwork lining the walls. Everything about the space was sophisticated, masculine, Steve.

You wondered how you could lend your touch.

Steve had gone into another room, his bedroom, you imagined, to put your things down. He came up behind you as you stared out of the window, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He kissed your neck as you leaned your head back on his chest.

“This place is… it’s amazing, Steve. I can’t believe we just did that.”

“More amazing now that you’re here. And you better believe it.”

“I have something for you…a wedding gift”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, bringing it in front of you. 

The diamonds on your hand glittered and caught your eye as you reached to touch what was inside. It was a necklace with double diamond solitaires, one cushion cut and one pear shaped, nestled side by side on a thin, gleaming chain.

A moi et toi design.

To match your ring.

You blinked up at him, craning your neck to look him in the eye. He pecked you on the lips.

“Steve…”

He reached out, and plucked the necklace from the box. His fingers brushed the nape of your neck as he draped it around you.

“Moi et toi,” he murmured near your ear. “Me and you.”

You swallowed, your fingers rising to touch the stones on your skin as you gazed out on the city. 

“It’s beautiful.”

“Two stones side by side; one strengthens the other.” 

His thumb brushed over your collarbone, tracing the edge of the necklace. 

“That’s what we are. It’s what you do for me. Make me want to be a better man.”

You exhaled, your lips parting slightly as you turned around in his arms.

“Steve. You are a good man. You’re just doing things in a slightly unconventional way. You’re talking to the queen of unconventional. Remember where we met?”

There you were, being adorable again. The way you’d fought him up until this week made Steve stand in disbelief at how accepting you were of him. And how easily you’d run off with him to Connecticut tonight to become his wife. 

It was crazy, but it was so right.

“I do. I seem to recall meeting you in heaven, because all I remember thinking is ‘who is this angel.’”  

You rolled your eyes and laughed.

“You’ve been hanging around Bucky too long.”

Steve chuckled, tilting your chin up with a knuckle. He was happy.

“You’re right. But anyway, the necklace is for tomorrow, I mean the Gala tonight. Something to remind you that no matter who else is in the room... you’re my wife."

You swallowed at the octave drop in Steve’s voice and he traced your throat with his thumb as you did it. Steve gathered you to him, pressing his lips to your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered into your ear.

“Come with me, there’s something else I want to show you. " 

He grabbed your hand and led you down a hallway. 

You followed until he stopped and turned to you with a mischievous grin. Then, he opened the door behind his back and backed in so he could watch your face. Curious, you followed him inside. 

Then you froze. 

It was a good sized space. Mirrors lined one entire wall, reflecting the soft glow of LED track lighting. You stepped out on the wood floor and realized that it was made from premium materials.

But what really caught your attention was the sleek, stainless-steel pole standing tall in the center of the room. You turned slowly, meeting Steve's expectant gaze. 

"You have a dance studio?" 

"You have a dance studio," he corrected. 

"I arranged for it to be started while we were in Hilton Head and it was just finished yesterday. I wanted you to have a place to move. To feel free while you’re in Brooklyn."

You went to the pole and grabbed it and leaned out, checking it. It was sturdy and conditioned. You twirled a little and came to rest, the pole between the ass cheeks of your leggings. 

Steve’s look became hungry, and his cock jumped in his sweats. If he was thinking of sleep earlier, he was wide awake now. 

And some parts of him were more awake than others. 

“So… you had a dance studio built, for me, while we were in Hilton Head? Me, a woman who was threatening your life?”

The way you smiled at him made Steve’s heart flutter. He nodded and came close and tried to kiss you, but you twirled away from him to the other side of the pole. He flashed you a smile and your butterflies started up again.

“It was right after you threatened to shoot my balls off. I knew you had it bad.”

Steve sighed as if he was nostalgic for your death threats. You laughed as Steve grabbed for you again.

You scooted away from him.

“Don’t touch, Mr. Rogers,” you admonished as your finger wagged in front of those lips. 

Then you pointed, and Steve followed your hand as if mesmerized. He was the one who had it bad.

“Why don’t you sit down so I can test this thing out? Haven’t had a proper dance workout all week.”

Steve nodded and went to sit down on the chaise lounge in the corner of the room.

You stepped forward, and your pulse quickened as you held Steve’s gaze. He leaned back against the back of the chaise, arms crossed over his broad chest, and his t-shirt straining across his shoulders, biceps, and chest.

His blue eyes were focused with an intensity that sent a shiver through your body.

"Music?" you prompted. 

Steve smirked and tapped his phone. A pulsating beat filled the room, the bass vibrating beneath your feet, and causing your hips to sway. You didn’t have your heels and you were in loungewear, but one of those things was to your advantage.

You grabbed the hem of your sweatshirt, teasing a glimpse of your skin as you swayed to the music.

Steve’s eyes darkened and his breath visibly slowed.

You took your time, dragging the cotton up your body as you shimmied, baring the skin of your stomach, then your bra, then your collarbones as your head was hidden for half a second.

You winked when you emerged and you moved closer as you leaned over him and placed your garment on the lounge next to him.

Steve didn’t move. Didn’t blink. But his jaw clenched, and you didn’t miss the way his fingers flexed at his sides.

Then, you turned around, hooking your thumbs in the waistband of your leggings and looked over your shoulder to find him staring at your ass and licking his lips. Steve looked up at you, his blue eyes burning now as you smirked at him and peeled the black material down to reveal your flesh, in black lace, bent fully at the waist. 

Steve’s hands twitched for want of reaching out. He exhaled sharply, restraint hanging by a thread.

You straightened up slowly, twerking and slapping your own ass, holding a cheek so that he could see the lace-clothed split of you. You shot him a saucy wink as you stepped out of your clothing, pushing it aside with the tip of your toe before slowly running your hands down your body. 

You brought your hands up to your face, sliding them down your neck to your chest, then your sides, letting your fingers skim over your ribs, down your stomach, then back up, skirting along your bra and pulling your nipples through the fabric. 

Steve made a low sound in his throat, his control cracking.

It was just as he decided to reach out to touch you that you walked toward the pole on tip toes, the only way you knew how to do it. 

“No touching unless I give permission. That’s the rule in Peach’s Parlor.”

Steve cocked his head, grinning now.

“Peach’s Parlor? So you like it? You taking ownership of the place?”

He was proud that you seemed pleased. You smiled back at him in response, exhaling and letting the rhythm take you.

You started with a slow walk around the pole, each step deliberate, your hips swaying just enough to raise the temperature of his blood degree by degree. 

His smile dropped and his jaw tightened, but he didn’t move, his restraint evident in every rigid line of his body as his eyes followed your every move

You reached up, gripping the pole above your head, then lifted yourself effortlessly, letting momentum carry you into a slow spin. The world blurred for a moment, the mirrors reflecting your every movement as you let your legs extend, toes pointed, body fluid. 

The way you moved was unhurried, deliberate, and so alluring. Steve sighed and bent his head to the side, taking you in. Then he bit his lip, remembering how you felt around him earlier. You felt so fucking good, your sweet, hot pussy pulsing around him.

He was putting the cart before the horse, but he wanted to be your baby daddy so bad. He head was in the clouds as you hooked one leg around the pole, arching your back as you slid downward in a controlled descent, your body moving with the music, sensual and confident. 

The way your muscles flexed and relaxed, the roll of your hips was mesmerizingly beautiful. You were performing your art for Steve, moving for his pleasure. 

But you were in control. 

And it made Steve remember that this is what it was that made him fall for you in the first place. Damn, he wanted you, and even though you were only steps away, it was driving him crazy. 

When you reached the floor, you dropped to your knees, your thighs spread, fingers skimming down your skin as you stared at him.

Steve rubbed his hands on his pants to ease the itch of his fingers wanting to grasp you.

You stood and grabbed the pole once more, swinging around in another smooth, effortless climb. You wrapped your legs around the metal, suspended for a moment, before twisting into an elegant descent, your body brushing against the pole in a way that made Steve’s balls ache.

When you landed, you moved toward him on tiptoe again, all legs and glistening body, hips swaying, eyes locked onto his.

Steve only moved to put his hands on the back of the lounge, but other than that he was still.

In a graceful move, you straddled him carefully, knees on either side of his slim hips. You were close enough for him to feel your warmth, but were barely touching him. The heat coming from your core made him feral and his eyes were drawn downward to the source.

You felt a tremendous power, so you reached for his chin and tilted it up so he could look into your eyes. 

Steve almost got lost there, but when you whispered, “Good boy,” he forgot how to breathe. He didn't know he liked that. but the fact that you'd guessed it made you even more perfect for him. 

He covered a whimper by clearing his throat. A secret smile was on your lips as you slowly rolled your hips and arched your back, your nipples barely grazing his chest. 

Steve's eyes were everywhere, watching everything, especially your tits, which were so hard and beautiful through the lace.

He felt like if he could just to suck them for a minute, everything in the world would be alright.

A minute each. 

Maybe an hour.

Steve's breath was hot against your skin, but he still hadn’t touched you. His grip on the chaise tightened, his control hanging by a thread.

You ran your fingers down your body before leaning backward and grazing his thighs and it was just enough to plan out the pattern of his skeet along your skin. He was sure, with practice, he could spell out his name.

In one fluid movement, you turned around, pressing your back to his chest, and, lightly, so lightly, too lightly, ground against his rigid cock with slow, deliberate precision.

Steve felt delirious and close to expiring.

“Fuck, Peach… You trying to kill me?” Steve murmured, his voice low and rough. “We just got married.”

Married!

You looked over your shoulder at him and moved your lips close to his, smiling as you saw the muscles in his corded neck tense.  You leaned in, your lips hovering near his ear.

“You're so good for me Stevie… Such a good... big... boy.”

You twerked the last three words in his lap, causing him to exhale sharply and his hands to twitch. You arched, rolling your body against his again. 

And then.

Finally, finally, you let yourself sink into his lap, pressing fully against his cock. He could feel your moist pussy lips through layers of fabric.

And that’s when Steve’s restraint snapped.

His hands shot to your waist, gripping hard, his fingers digging into your skin. You leaned back and his lips found your shoulder, his breath uneven.

You smirked and turned around, dragging your nails lightly down his chest, feeling his heartbeat hammer beneath your touch.

Steve crashed his mouth to yours, swallowing your laughter in a kiss that was deep and desperate. His hands roamed your body, tracing lace, his need evident in every touch.

“My sweet Peach. Mrs. Rogers,” he growled against your skin, voice thick with hunger.

You reached up to run your fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to make his head tilt back.

“Yesss. Say Heyyyy, Mrs. Rogers…,” you teased.

One hand clasped his throat, squeezing his Adam's apple lightly as his blue eyes shone from his slitted lids. Steve's cock pulsed in his pants, then he took a ragged breath before he spoke.

“Heyyyyyy. Mrs. Rogers...”

You rolled your hips against his impressive bulge as Steve’s baritone rumbled in your ear. As you reached for the hem of his shirt, he kissed you, grabbing the collar to take it off.

You looked at Steve appreciatively as you bent and licked one erect nipple, then wrapped your lips around the tiny button, pulling it into your mouth and eliciting a small groan from him. You took your time, enjoying his sounds which got louder and louder.

"Such a good boy making those pretty sounds for me, Stevie."

You licked, sucked and savored him as you alternated from one pec to the other.

“Wanna always be good for you, Peach...” 

Steve gritted it out as you grabbed him by the hair, pulling him into a filthy, long, deep kiss. He grabbed for you and held on as your mouth plundered his.

Then you pulled away.

“I have a question, Mr. Rogers,” you unclasped your bra, then leaned forward and stuffed your nipple into his mouth, moaning as he looked up at you with those clear blue eyes and sucked enthusiastically.

“How is it you married me, and I hadn’t even sucked your cock yet?”

Steve chuckled and then got serious.

“Must be true love.”

You felt his cock pound between your legs and knew what had to happen. His fingernails scratched your thighs trying to hold on to you as you moved back to stand.

When he saw that you were going to kneel, he quickly moved a pillow from the chaise for you to settle in front of him. He then lifted his hips from the couch and pulled down his sweats and boxers in one move.

His erection sprung out and you licked your lips, ready to finally feel the smooth skin in your mouth.

"Touch yourself for me, Stevie."

Steve took himself in hand and started stroking from base to head, thumb swiping the drops of precum in passing. His burning gaze was on you but your eyes were glued to what was in his fist. 

“Fuck that’s hot… Wan’ taste you,” you were whining now, feeling deprived. 

“..Whatever you want.” Steve whispered in a strained voice after looking into those big, beautiful eyes.  

You ran your fingers over his thick dick all the way down to the heavy, tight balls. 

“So pretty…” 

You kept eye contact as you leaned in and gave him a long, wet lick from balls to head. Your tongue rolled over the soft skin of the large mushroom cap, taking in the dewey drops leaking from it.

You licked down the hard shaft, until you reached the base and ran your tongue over his large sac.

You began sucking on his tip, tonguing underneath, and humming around his head, causing Steve to murmur, “Fffeels so fucking good, Peach.”

He was carding his fingers through your hair as he said it.

Inspired, you took him as far as you could, until your lips were stretched to the limit and tears coursed down your face. You inhaled the musky scent of him in the hair at the base of his cock and looked back up to watch his contracting abs and heaving chest, his open mouth and those mesmerizing eyes. 

This was a fucking beautiful man.

Steve’s big hands gathered your hair and held it, just tight enough to send a zing to your clit. 

“Peachhhhh, that mouth is good.”

Steve was in love with how you sucked him off. He rolled his hips and found out just how snug your throat really was. When you pulled off, tears were rolling down your face.

He wiped your tears away with his thumb. 

"Y' look so fucking pretty like this, Peach.”

The way you took him all when you deep throated him again sent the cum crawling up his balls. 

“Fuckfuckfuck. Shit.”

You pulled off and released him with a filthy plop, watching as he desperately squeezed his cock at the base, trying to stop the impending explosion.

He reached out for you with his other hand and you climbed up onto his lap as he marveled at your messy hair, your bouncing tits, and fucked out expression.

“You’re a fucking goddess. Wanna cum down your throat, Peach, but don’t swallow our kids. Need ‘em inside you.”

The tip of his cock nudged your entrance, and you reached down and grabbed it, perfecting its position as you sank down on it.

You both watched in fascination as your pussy engulfed him preceded by the juices from your wet pussy. Steve’s hands grabbed onto your hips, and you wanted him to bruise you, to have a mark on you from this for days. 

Your head lolled back on your shoulders as you glided down on your Steve's, thick cock. He lifted you by your waist and alternated fucking you up and down his dick and thrusting into you, hitting angles he hadn't before.

His grunts and your moans were beautiful music.

“Please look at me, Peach.”

His tone was reverent and you couldn't help but obey. The sounds you two were making sent you right to the edge of a precipice.

“Oh… right…there… right fucking there!”

You keened as you scratched the skin on his shoulders and biceps. 

“Fucking me so good, Stevie…So righttt. N-need you to keep hitting it like that…give it to me just like that. All your cum. Inside me.”

He was hitting those bundles of nerves just right.

“You need it like that hunh? I'll give it to you until it drips out of you... Need it dripping down my gotdamn balls....”

And he proceeded to fuck up into you perfectly. Your hands moved from his shoulders to his hair and you leaned in for a filthy kiss. He gripped your throat and carefully squeezed to control your airflow. Your eyes began to roll and your cunt clenched down on him. Hard.

"Ffuckk, " He had to grit his teeth to keep from cumming. "Need you to fucking cum, Peach....."

“I- I’m close Stevieeee. Ahhh. Give it. Gonna have all your babies….”

Your pussy started clenching around him.

“Holy FUCK!”

Steve picked you up and placed you on the chaise, pulling your legs over his shoulders as he drilled into you. He slid a hand between you and rubbed your clit in soul-destroying circles.

“Drain these fucking balls...shhhhhitttttt!"

You clutched him close as you felt his cock start and continue to spurt hot cum inside you. As he softened, he sat back on his heels and spread your legs to watch his cum drip out of you. He trailed two fingertips down your sensitive slit and pushed it back inside you, all the while a sly grin on his face.

He caught your eye. 

“Can’t waste a drop.”

“You are filthy slut, Mr. Rogers.”

He laughed. 

“Only for you, Mrs. Rogers.” 

Steve grabbed his t-shirt to clean you both up a bit. Next thing you knew, you were being carried out of the studio and through to his master bedroom 

It was daylight when you were lightly snoring in his arms and Steve was grinning wide, his wife in his arms.

—

The next afternoon, you sat in front of the vanity in Bucky’s penthouse as the hired glam team worked around you and your cousin. The stylist meticulously worked with your hair while the makeup artist added the final sweep of highlighter across her cheekbones.

The two of you had been getting ready together for years, first as teenagers sneaking into her mother’s closet, and now as women preparing for an extravagant event in a high-rise overlooking Manhattan. But this afternoon was different.

Her eyes met yours in the mirror. You had just her the rundown of the day before, complete with the news that you and Steve were married. She’d been quiet for a while, but now it seemed she was ready to talk again.

“You’re really happy, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice soft but certain.

You blinked, then exhaled.

“Yes I am.”

“You and Steve are perfect for each other. "

She leaned over and grabbed your hand, grinning at you.

"This isn’t a race. I’m never gonna be jealous of you, girl.”

You grinned back.

“I’m pissed that I wasn’t able to be there, though.”

You sighed. Your one regret.

“I know. But it was perfect. Just the two of us. We’ll have a party later on, though. And tonight, we’ll celebrate.”

You turned thoughtful.

“The way Steve loves me should terrify me. But it doesn’t.”

She studied you for a moment. 

“Because?”

“Because when I’m with him, it makes sense. The way he looks at me, the way he is with me—it doesn’t feel rushed. It just feels… right.”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

Your cousin smiled, tilting her head as the hairstylist and makeup artist switched and her hair was being fussed over. 

“I know you think that I feel some kind of way, but I know you girl. I was shocked, but not surprised..”

She laughed and you shook your head.

“Running off and getting married is so you. It’s so Steve too when you think about it.”

You took a sip of the mimosa that Bucky had brought in earlier. You thought what was about to happen for your cousin.

“Real talk. Bucky adores you, Cousin. And I know you. And I’m getting to know Bucky. This engagement and wedding are going to be events. Events, I say. You wouldn’t have it any other way. .You’re about to get some bling to match that jewelry you got on tonight in Vermont next week.” 

You two laughed together, the mood lighter now. 

“You’re right,” she replied. I’m secure. It will happen. And just at the right time for us. And no matter what, Peach. You are never gonna lose me as your biggest fan, no matter what.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too, cousin.”

You hugged each other so hard, the stylists had to touch you back up.

As you finished up, the sound of deep voices and approaching footsteps echoed from the hallway. The door opened, and Bucky stepped in first, his navy tuxedo perfectly tailored, his gaze immediately softening when he saw your cousin. 

“Damn Frumoasă,” he murmured, taking her in with slow appreciation. 

“You’re making it real hard for me to let you out of this apartment tonight.”

She shot him a look.

“Smooth, Barnes,” she smirked at him. “Nice suit.”

“What? This old thing?”

Bucky smirked back as he took her hand and led her out of the room.

You rolled your eyes at them because you had the feeling they were being freaky, you just couldn’t prove it.

Steve walked in, ensconced in an impressively tailored dark tux, his presence commanding as always, but the moment his eyes landed on you, something in him shifted. 

You were wearing a short gold sequined gown that showcased your legs, and you felt like a princess. 

Like a wife.

His usual air of control wavered for a fraction of a second, his gaze dragging over you like he was memorizing every inch.

You arched that adorable brow at him, tilting your head. 

“No comment?”

Steve exhaled, stepping closer, his voice rough around the edges. 

“You already know, Mrs. Rogers.”

Bucky chuckled, clapping Steve on the shoulder. 

“Think you broke him, Peach. Congratulations, Mrs. Rogers.”

You grinned, gave Bucky a hug and reached for your clutch. 

Steve reached out, his fingers grazing your wrist as he murmured, “Hold on.”

You frowned slightly, watching as Bucky guided your cousin toward the door, leaving just the two of you in the room. Steve reached into his pocket, pulling out another small black velvet box.

Your breath caught, your heart skipping for just a second.

He popped the top, revealing a pair of dazzling double diamond drop earrings, the perfect complement to the moi et toi necklace resting against your collarbone and the ring on your finger. All you could do was look at them and then blink up at him.

“Steve…”

He smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction. 

“Thought you should match.”

You shook your head and laughed.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Steve lifted an earring, stepping close to help fasten it in place and his touch lingered.

“You say that now,” he murmured and then moved to the other side, his lips just a breath away from your skin.

“But you love it.”

You turned into his arms and looked into his eyes.

“You know if you keep giving me gifts like this, you’re going to spoil me.”

His eyes darkened, and his hand came to rest on your hip, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress. 

“That’s the plan,” he murmured, voice low, “Mrs. Rogers.”

Bucky cleared his throat from the doorway, breaking the moment. He was leaning against the frame, smirking. 

“Hate to interrupt, but Nico’s waiting. Unless you two want to skip the gala entirely.”

You rolled your eyes at the dark headed man and flipped him off.

"You're going to get enough of watching us like a drama."

"Never. You two are my favorite romcom."

Steve exhaled through his nose, the ghost of a smirk on his lips as he kissed your neck, producing a shiver. Then, lacing his fingers with yours, he led you toward the door.

—

The way the night was going seemed like a dream, arriving on Steve’s arm and watching the reactions. Some were surprised, but most just commented that you were such a handsome couple and gave congratulations.

Sharon was clearly not happy, but fuck that bitch.

Steve hadn’t given her, or anyone else that matter, a second glance.

When the music started, Steve danced with you to all the tempos, even the Salsa when that genre was played. You had a time, and then you two went to the bar to get refreshments.

Sharon chose that moment to show her ass. You barely had a sip of your amaretto sour before she started on her bullshit.

“Steve,” she purred, looking up at him under her lashes and placing her hand on his forearm. 

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

Steve tactfully removed his arm from her grasp while the fingers on his other hand reached for you and rested low on your back, his thumb stroking a slow, deliberate circle against the sequined fabric of your gown.

“It’s been two days, Sharon,” he replied, his tone clipped. And annoyed.

Your cousin and Bucky moved closer, probably because she clocked what was going on.

Sharon ignored Steve’s tone and turned to you. 

“And you must be the entertainment. Nice dress. Is it easy to take off?”

The words sounded sweet as honey, but you heard the venom underneath. 

“I guess congratulations are in order? I hear you two ran off and got married. I guess that's a choice. It’s probably refreshing, going from someone like Peggy to someone like…Peaches..”

“It’s Peach,” you replied. 

The bitch was silent.

Sharon’s gaze flicked to your ring, then your jewelry, then down the length of your gown. 

“Although you do wear luxury well. Tell me, how does it feel knowing it’s all borrowed? That he’s probably going to dump you tomorrow. Get an annulment and leave your ass in the gutter strip club where he found you.”

You could feel the heat of Steve’s fury at your side, his body tensing like he was about to snap.

Your mouth opened to reply, but your cousin stepped up, anger rolling off of her body.

“You know what’s really refreshing, Sharon? Watching a woman who wants to fuck around with me and my family and find out.”

She lowered her voice.

“And like a cable, we jump hoes.”

The air around you shifted, and a few party-goers slowed their conversations to listen.

Bucky stepped forward as Sharon’s jaw twitched into a twisted smile. Bucky whispered in your cousin's ear. She glared at him and started taking off her jewelry, handing her earrings to him. Bucky shook his head and pulled her to the side while she gave him the business.

“Oh, I didn’t mean that in a negative way.” Sharon simpered. “It’s just the truth.”

Sharon looked between you and Steve.

“You are nothing but negative. You don’t have to worry about my marriage. Or your endowment anymore, Sharon.”

Steve spoke to her, his eyes blazing blue.

You smiled at your man, then took a slow step forward, closing the space between you, lowering your voice just enough that only Sharon, and Steve, could hear.

“Do you think calling me a stripper is an insult?” 

Your voice was strong and steady.

“I own what I do. I’m damn good at what I do. And you?” 

You looked her up and down, eyebrow deadly.

“You’re standing here, burning because even with your family ties, and your desperate little designer dress, the only woman Steve wants is me. He married me.”

You leaned in even closer.

“The difference between us? I don’t have to chase him. I just have to walk into a room.” 

You smiled at her sweetly.

“And he follows.”

The moment the words left your lips, Steve did exactly that. 

As he left her in her feelings,  Steve tossed a comment over his shoulder.

“You just got your ass handed to you in front of half the room,” he mused. 

“I’d cut my losses and walk away.”

One of the staffers turned up at that moment. 

“This way, Ms. Carter. I’ll be escorting you out.”

The four of you watched as she turned red and huffed and puffed on her way out of the door. After everyone around you went back to minding their own business, your cousin hugged you hard.

“I love you. That was perfection.”

You hugged her back. 

“Thank you, Boo.”

You released her as Bucky handed her earrings back and Steve looked at you with admiration in his eyes. 

“You handled that well.”

You smirked. “I know.”

Steve pulled you into his arms and kissed your forehead, not bothering to lower his voice when he said, “I’ll remind you how much I love that later.”

Your cousin groaned dramatically.

 “You two are disgustingly perfect for each other.”

Bucky grabbed a bottle of Moet from the table display.

“A toast. To Mr. and Mrs. Steve Rogers!”

Your husband looked at you with a smile. You don’t know what was coming your way as Steve's wife, but you knew it wouldn’t be boring.

[sigmundthesorcerer]

M would be obsessed with the fact that vault-tec dropped the bombs bc she's a paranoid freak who's been running off a conspiracy theory that america nuked itself as a population control tactic and the rest of the world is doing fine

but the point is that she's supposed to be wrong!!!!!

[fierceawakening]

It’s years later and I still have this question.

I’ve been following a couple of true crime cases where the family of the perpetrators have suspected narcissistic tendencies might be a factor.

Yes, I know people say that narcissism is too often cited, but I think it’s likely a factor here. The perpetrator in one of these cases was a mommy vlogger who made literal comments about making sure her family looked good on camera and who did things like rant in videos if people didn’t give five star reviews even though the family vlog channel made them a fortune. She and her business partner (and likely lesbian partner) were convicted of horrific child abuse that included inflicting deep wounds. I didn’t see the photos of these wounds but I believe some were literally bone deep. In the course of the evidence finding, it became clear that the business partner saw herself as chosen by God in various ways.

The things about the constant taping, perfect image, and unhinged insistence on five star reviews seem to me to the idea that narcissism is often about wanting attention and never having enough, and the idea that this (for some people at least) isn’t just an odd or endearing quirk, but an all consuming drive that can lead to verbal or even physical violence when they don’t receive the positive feedback they crave.

Anyway, I was watching a podcast discussing this and another case (different people, kids murdered for “being zombies,” perpetrators shared some fringe religious beliefs with the women in the other case, including being God’s chosen) and they were discussing how they suspected narcissistic traits of the perpetrators in each case might have led to or worsened the violence.

(I am not saying, and they were not saying, that all people high in narcissistic traits are violent, much less to kids. I and they were saying that grandiosity *coupled* with intense, fundamentalist style religiosity and low tolerance for kids acting like kids could have served as a force multiplier, making what these people were willing to do to kids go from “too harsh” or even “already abusive” to “blatantly horrific to any possible observer, even people desensitized to more ‘average’ child abuse or murder cases.”)

And one thing the podcasters mentioned was that as they understood the criteria (one was a mental health professional who doesn’t practice but has the credentials to do so, the other was a family member of one of the perpetrators in the murder case) it’s highly unlikely for grandiose narcissists to ever be diagnosed, as one of the common traits is believing society’s rules don’t apply to them and thus not being likely to see their issues they have with others as in any way their fault even partially.

It’s also said to be the case that while their grandiose fantasies are a way of reassuring themselves they are worthy, these fantasies are Thus they’re unlikely to seek help.

Whereas here on tumblr a lot of people claim to be diagnosed with NPD or to have the traits. As they present it it’s a kind of perfectionism, where it’s so painful to think you might have made an error people can see that your mind twists it around so you did whatever it is correctly and THEY have it wrong, and therefore you continue to be able to see yourself as superior.

(Side note: Even if this is true, I can see why this would be more understandable than "Ruby is entitled and treats kids as objects," but I'm not sure I'm convinced it's actually less harmful. If your response to "Mom, you messed up" is "I'm going to punish YOU, because it's literally impossible for me to make a mistake, because I'll have an identity crisis if I admit that and I don't have time," that's still cruel and wrong and admitting fault is still the correct, mature, respectful, nonabusive behavior choice.)

I guess the difference is supposed to be presence of insight vs. lack? But if your belief you're superior is a literal delusion, then it seems to me you'd be more likely to lack insight than to have it.

And if you lack insight, that by itself doesn't mean you will be abusive or violent, but I suspect it does mean you might not see that you ARE abusive, if the behaviors you're engaging in are designed to shift the imperfection on to your partner or child.

I dunno. I definitely think that there's a cottage industry in "If you have lasting hurts, someone in your life was a narcissist" that will, like, positively identify the Karen ahead of you in the grocery line.

But I do think people really do sometimes blame others for their own faults, and the idea that this mostly stops just short of abusiveness seems a little... I hope so but why would it? In order to not be abusive, you have to be able to admit when you're at fault.

So I have a Bad Question:

Years ago when I first learned about certain mental illnesses, the thing I always heard was that it’s very rare for people to be diagnosed with NPD, because the nature of the illness means it’s difficult for people to take responsibility for things they do wrong, so they tend not to realize they have an illness and seek help, but rather think other people have the problem (whereas, as I was told it, people with things like mood disorders, say, do realize something is wrong–they know they are distressed by things that should not affect them so intensely, and don’t want to be.)

But I see quite a lot of people on Tumblr talking about having it and about what experiences with it are like.

So I’m curious… what happened? More awareness? Less stigma? More self-diagnosis? Nothing (as in me thinking I see something when it’s not an actual trend?)

[bunnyboy-juice]

NO MORE ASSOCIATING THINGS WITH FEMMES ONLY BECAUSE THEY ARE PINK!HYPERFEM FEMMES ARE GREAT AND I LOVE YOU CAMPY FEMMES WHO EMBODY PINK BUT ALSO JESUS CHRIST CAN YOU GUYS NOT GO MORE THAN ONE DAY W/O TRYING TO SHOEHORN FEMMES INTO BEING ONLY PINK UWU BABIES. I AM FEMME AS IN GRASS AS IN DIRT AS IN TREE BARK AS IN WEEDS SPROUTING THROUGH THE SIDEWALK CEMENT. FEMME AS IN GENDER NONCONFORMITY AS IN FUCK YOU MY FEMININITY IS WHAT *I* SAY IT IS. FEMME AS IN DEPTH AND DARKNESS AND WARMTH AND TERROR. FEMME AS IN CAVES. FEMME AS IN LIGHTNING. FEMME AS IN AN AMALGAMATION OF TRAITS THAT I HAVE DECIDED ARE FEMININE REGARDLESS OF WHAT SOCIETY SAYS. FUCK IS IT THAT HARD TO UNDERSTAND?!???

[kraro-school-life]

✦ 15. 4. 24 ✦ 📓 ✦ Monday ✦ Day 13/60 ✦

I stayed after school for a physics lab workshop (kinda?) about solar panels and we got to experiment a bit, I liked it a lot. At home I decided to write my history homework on paper for once, which is ironic, because I still have to type it on the computer, so it turned out to be double the work. But at least my notes look pretty :)

✓ school - history homework ✓ art - started project in art class; art course ✦ sport - //

🌱🌿🪴 - 1h 20min on Forest ♫₊˚.🎧 ▷▷ Void - The Haunting

Have a great day/night !! ~ ♦️

[lesbianralzarek]

trying to not complain about the discrepancy between how much content fictional women and poc have vs the white dudes in every fucking fandom im in, because no one owes me fanart/fic and i can make shit myself, but holy fuck can any of you name a woman?

[agenericplaceholdername]

You raise a lot of good points. Measuring Lloyd's abilities by the success of his students shows he isn't a terrible one (Sora is proof) but not a great one (Arin is proof). Much of my original post was a counterargument to this (very common) point. It is still pretty funny that Arin does Spinjitzu after a minute of Ras's teachings but that's definitely an oversimplification of all of Lloyd's work.

As for the other Ninja, I totally agree that Kai is more mature and developed than Lloyd. That being said, Wyldfyre doesn't always listen to him (see her sneaking on the Bounty). I will also push back on the idea that it's reasonable that Wyldfyre hasn't yet learned Spinjitzu, if you think it's unreasonable that Sora hasn't learned Spinjitzu. She hadn't unlocked her powers at all when Lloyd first met her, having only discovered their existence hours beforehand, while Wyldfyre had been using hers for years when Wyldfyre started training. I think Wyldfyre would probably love to learn Spinjitzu given how much she loves fighting. I included Cole only because he taught Frak (in ~10 seconds no less) how to use an entirely different elemental power.

That being said, solely in the context of the story, I think that Kai is probably better qualified to be a teacher, though I think it's hard to tell only because we spend more time with Master Lloyd, so Kai's potential struggles aren't part of the story.

I think your idea of Lloyd learning to delegate responsibility would be a fine story to tell. We did spend an episode on that ("The Temple of the Dragon Cores", S1 E11) but it was played for laughs. That being said, it doesn't answer your original point in the tags -- "why is Lloyd unsuccessful for no particular reason," unless the answer is: he's just naturally bad, other people are just naturally better at teaching. I don't think that would be a particularly satisfying resolution on its own.

I think the show is going in the direction of saying that Lloyd's desire to be like Wu is his big problem -- it leads Sora and Arin to sneak out in "Crossroads Carnival," it leads him to take on too much responsibility in "The Temple of the Dragon Cores," and his greatest fear is not living up to Wu in "Beyond the Phantasm Cave." In S2P2 the title of Master is given to him by Egalt and Rontu, who tell him he'll live up to the legacy of Wu. Just a few episodes later he learns that Wu caused the Merge and he loses one of his students. S3 is supposed to bring back a student Wu lost, so I think(?) the endpoint of this arc is Lloyd learning he doesn't have to be just like Wu; he can be better.

I don't think this is solved just by delegation either -- Lloyd makes the correct move to have Kai train Wyldfyre. Most of his stress in S2 comes from the visions he's having and his fear about letting down the people he cares about. So long as he's the Green Ninja, I don't think that is going away. I like the idea of Lloyd having less "main character energy" on paper, but a story about someone learning to put less pressure on themselves works better when we see them turning down help from others, which (aside from in "The Temple of the Dragon Cores") Lloyd isn't doing. He even asks Egalt and Rontu to be the Ninja's masters in "Enter the City of Temples" and they turn him down.*

This explanation also doesn't explain why Lloyd failed with Arin either, but I think it comes closer. Lloyd rigidly applied Wu's teachings while being unable to understand that Ras's ideas (while very flawed) are not without merit. Upon hearing that Wu caused the Merge, he barely acknowledges it. Like Wu was (literally) family to Lloyd, Lloyd sees Arin as family, yet Arin doesn't see Lloyd that way (or at least is trying to avoid seeing Lloyd that way, since that, to him, would be an insult to his parents). Lloyd's connection to Wu is the root at the "Lloyd's greatest asset" thing I mentioned earlier, since Wu is literally Lloyd's family.

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

*I totally get the idea that it would be a better story if Lloyd wasn't delegating work already, and he would have to learn to delegate. My take is that I'm gonna wait and see what the narrative settles on (and if it settles on nothing, then I'll be disappointed).

Maybe Lloyd just shouldn't be a master.

He's clearly not very good at it. He's been trying it since season 5, and his first real students both take FOREVER to make any progress. Sora takes a whole season to unlock her powers, but apparently isn't taught spinjitzu in any of that time- the literal first thing we see taught to any of our characters in the original show. Arin somehow makes backwards progress with Lloyd, and then after doing like three poses with his friend seems to get it instantly.

Like... seems like he's just not very good at teaching. Maybe he should hand the position over to Kai, he's got a natural knack for it, a lot more experience, and a much higher success rate as far as I'm concerned. Master Kai for the win.

[crimescrimson]

"Understand The Palm Of My Hand, Bitch."

[butwhatifidothis]

(regarding the Fort Merceus scene)

"Claude doesn't know as much about the Seiros faith because he's an outsider" thanks for ignoring the entire point of Claude's route just to insist he doesn't grow as a character

Ohhh wait, no, it's not that he's not knowledgeable, it's just him definitely lying! Because disagreements? Regarding tenets of a religion? Impossible! Claude must be feigning ignorance and lying because that's all he does as a character! He's tricking the diligent Lorenz into thinking things that aren't true, because Church Bad and Claude would never tell the truth!

[july-19th-club]

first time i watched 'no exit' i was 100% in jo's corner like oh great it's sexist dean time . wheeee let's all watch her learn a lesson about hunting and he can be 'right' in a factual way but he'll be as obnoxious as possible about it the whole time . now i think what's happening here is that he has pretty much instantly samzoned her, as a college dropout from a hunting family who has a contentious relationship with her one surviving parent. EXCEPT that she's a five-foot-something twiggy barely-out-of-her-teens woman who has a crush on him and has never been on a serious hunt before, and he's dismissive/over-vigilant enough with the actual sam, a powerfully-built man with clairvoyant powers and over a decade of experience. bearing that in mind, his behavior towards jo is barely outside his normal realm of bossy and overbearing, and since he knows a little something about how sams will respond to direct orders, he still tells her mother she's not on the hunt with them so as to avoid the fallout until it's over. basically i think the whole dean thing, his most consistent characterization over the course of fifteen years, is his tendency to express even genuine protectiveness through the medium of 'bossy older sibling', and this makes him come off like the worst person on the planet. he frequently IS, but it's actually because of other things and has nothing to do with that habit in specific