#but shes very used to keeping to herself so as to not make the people around her uncomfortable and so wont engage physically unless they do

[wbbobsesser]

ᯓ sweet spot — chapter two

pairing: paige bueckers & azzi fudd

notes: i really enjoyed writing this chapter! looking forward to writing more and seeing where it goes. i love the idea of paige being completely obsessed and gone for azzi i couldn’t not make her that way. please keep in mind this is meant to be silly and unserious so don’t take it too literal. i hope you enjoy this chapter— i’m already working on the next one, so it should be expected soon. love you.

wc: 2.5k

it had been three weeks.

three weeks of pretending azzi fudd didn’t occupy 99% of paige bueckers’ waking thoughts. three weeks of trying not to stare during film, of forcing herself not to “accidentally” sit next to her at every team meal. three weeks of scrolling through azzi’s social media accounts like they held the secrets of the universe. three weeks of watching every reposted workout clip like it was a sacred ritual. three weeks of dying. slowly. softly. lovingly.

it was hell.

because azzi was still azzi.

sweet. soft-spoken. warm to everyone.

she high-fived her teammates. she brought extra protein bars to practice in case anyone needed one. she complimented everyone, everyday.

and paige? paige was losing her mind.

she’d never felt like this before. not about anyone. there had been hookups, of course. flings. a very short-lived situationship with a girl from back home who smoked too much weed and ghosted her after two weeks. but azzi?

azzi made her feel like a middle schooler with a crush. like she was trying to act normal during a fire drill while her entire body was combusting.

and the worst part was that azzi didn’t even know.

or maybe she did, and she was just too nice to say anything.

practice had ended an hour ago, but paige was still in the gym, sitting on the bleachers with a bag of ice balanced on her knee and her phone glowing in her lap. she wasn’t texting anyone. she was just looking at azzi’s most recent post: a photo from the locker room after the team’s first practice. azzi smiling, flushed, holding up a peace sign. caption: “i love it here already.”

she’d liked it within 0.3 seconds of it going up.

now she just sat there, staring at it like it might change.

“hey.”

paige nearly threw her phone across the gym. she looked up. it was azzi, hair pulled into a high bun, hoodie slung over one shoulder, and a water bottle tucked under her arm. she looked like a nike ad. or her own personal dream.

“you good?” azzi asked, stepping closer. “didn’t see you leave with everyone.”

paige sat up straighter, hiding her phone screen. “yeah— just icing. knee’s a little sore.”

azzi nodded, then sat next to her. right next to her. their knees almost touched. paige stopped breathing.

“you looked good today,” azzi said, like it was just a fact. “sharp on that last drill.”

paige shrugged, trying to act chill. “you always look good.”

silence.

paige’s eyes widened. “i mean— you played good. you looked good playing. like— your shot. your form. it was— good.”

azzi laughed quietly. “thanks.”

paige wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole.

they sat in silence for a few moments, the quiet hum of the lights buzzing overhead. azzi leaned back on her palms, gazing out at the empty court.

“you like being here?” paige asked finally, voice low.

azzi turned her head, smiled. “yeah. i do. it’s… different. but good-different. i feel like i’m supposed to be here.”

paige nodded, then swallowed. “you are.”

azzi’s smile lingered. “what about you? you still like it?”

paige glanced down at her hands. “i used to think it was just about winning. getting a national championship. now… i don’t know. it feels like it matters more when you have the right people around.”

azzi looked at her, something soft in her eyes.

before paige could completely combust, someone called from down the tunnel— lou, probably. something about team dinner.

azzi stood, brushing imaginary dust off her pants. “you coming?”

paige blinked, then nodded. “yeah. just need a sec.”

azzi lingered for a moment. “you sure?”

“positive.”

azzi gave her one last look, then jogged off.

paige watched her go, heart a tangled mess of hope and helplessness. she grabbed her phone again and looked at the photo. zoomed in just a little.

yeah. she was so, so screwed.

the team dinner was supposed to be casual. nothing fancy— just some bonding, a little pasta, maybe a couple of dumb games nika liked to spring on them out of nowhere. coach had even given them the evening off to “build chemistry,” which everyone knew really meant “don’t get in trouble and try not to burn the dorm down.”

paige almost didn’t go.

because azzi.

and because paige had barely survived three practices without turning into a puddle every time azzi looked in her direction. but nika wouldn’t let her skip, practically dragged her by the collar out of her room with the promise of free garlic knots and good lighting for selfies.

the restaurant was small and loud, with big booths and sticky menus. half the team was already there, squeezed into one corner and tossing crumpled straw wrappers at each other. azzi sat near the end, her curls pulled up and her smile lighting up the table like a lantern.

paige picked the seat next to her before she could think twice.

“hey,” azzi said, voice soft over the buzz of conversation. “glad you came.”

paige nodded too fast. “yeah. me too. i like… food.”

azzi blinked.

nika snorted soda out of her nose.

lou choked on her breadstick.

“smooth,” aubrey muttered, bumping paige’s knee under the table.

but azzi just laughed— a quiet, melodic sound— and passed paige the basket of garlic knots like she hadn’t just committed a social crime. “i meant to tell you— you’ve got a really quick first step. it’s hard to guard. you kinda burned me yesterday.”

paige blinked. her soul left her body.

“i— uh. i didn’t mean to? i mean, i did, but not like— burn— like basketball, not like… fire.”

nika buried her face in her hoodie.

azzi smiled. “i got what you meant.”

it was fine. everything was fine. except her hands were sweating and her fork was now mysteriously on the floor. paige reached down to get it and hit her head on the table.

azzi leaned over, voice low so the others wouldn’t hear. “are you okay?”

“never better.” paige’s voice cracked. she never wanted to die more.

later that night, paige laid in bed, phone screen glowing inches from her face. she should’ve been asleep— they had weights in the morning. but instead, she was twenty minutes into another accidental deep dive of azzi fudd’s instagram.

it started innocent. a few scrolls. a couple likes.

and then she found him.

noah.

the boyfriend. azzi’s boyfriend.

smiling next to azzi on some beach in california, both of them mid-laugh. another post from valentine’s day— azzi in his hoodie, captioned “my favorite human.”

her stomach twisted.

azzi didn’t post often. but when she did, the captions about noah were always so full. like she really meant them. paige lingered on one in particular— a photo of the two of them in front of the usc gym. the caption read: “through every win, every loss, every late night practice— you’ve been my home. i love you so much.”

paige closed the app.

then opened it again five seconds later.

she wasn’t proud of herself.

she was about to close the app for good when nika barged into her room with her blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a cape.

“you’re so gone for her.”

paige flinched so hard she dropped her phone.

“excuse me?”

“don’t even try to deny it,” nika said, plopping onto the bed like she owned it. “you short-circuit every time she so much as looks at you. i’ve never seen someone so flustered.”

“i don’t—”

“you do.” nika pulled paige’s pillow out from under her and whacked her with it. “you’ve got the biggest gay panic i’ve ever seen. and i roomed with lou.”

paige groaned, burying her face in her hands. “she has a boyfriend.”

“yeah, and you have zero chill,” nika leaned back. “i’ve never seen you like this before. nervous, shy. it’s weird.”

paige didn’t answer. she couldn’t.

because now, every little moment replayed like a loop— azzi’s compliment. the softness in her voice. her dimply smile that lingered too long.

well, fuck.

practice had ended twenty minutes ago, but paige was still out there, lazily flipping a ball between her hands as the last few teammates trickled out. her shirt clung to her back, sweat drying slowly in the gym's faint breeze. she could’ve left. should’ve. but something told her to stay.

and then azzi appeared.

“hey,” she called softly, pulling her hair into a ponytail as she approached. “you staying to shoot?”

paige’s heart dropped to her knees, then tried to crawl back up her throat. “uh— yeah. just a little.”

azzi smiled, grabbing a ball from the rack. “mind if i join you?”

“join? no. i mean yes. i mean— of course.”

they started with simple catch-and-shoot drills. easy rhythm. azzi’s release was still perfect, every shot as clean as glass. paige couldn’t stop glancing sideways, watching the way azzi’s eyes followed the arc of each shot, the way she bounced lightly on the balls of her feet after every make.

paige hit her stride eventually, sinking threes from the corner, then fading toward the wing. they passed back and forth, no words, just the soft echo of the ball and their sneakers squeaking on the court.

azzi shot like she was born doing it. No wasted movement. every jumper was soft, clean, perfect rotation. paige tried to stay focused— tried to match her rhythm— but she kept getting caught in the way azzi would laugh lightly when she missed, like even failure didn’t rattle her.

“your arc’s so pretty,” paige said before she could stop herself.

azzi looked at her. “mine?”

paige nodded, suddenly shy. “yeah. it’s, like… the perfect rainbow.”

azzi smiled. “thanks. yours is faster, though. quick release. super smooth.”

paige’s stomach did an actual flip.

“thanks. i, uh— yeah. i work on that,” she said, for what felt like the tenth time this week. why was she always saying the same thing around her? like she had five phrases and two working brain cells?

they continued shooting.

after a few more rounds, azzi passed her the ball and stretched her arms over her head. “you know, you’ve got such a calm confidence about you. like, on the court. even when you mess up, you never look rattled.”

paige literally missed the rim.

not the net. not the backboard.

she missed the rim.

azzi’s eyes widened, a little startled. “you okay?”

“i— yeah. i’m just— tired,” paige mumbled, retrieving the ball like it wasn’t the most humiliating moment of her life.

azzi laughed, light and genuine. “that was kinda cute.”

paige stopped breathing.

she didn’t even know what to say. her mouth opened, but no words came out— just a small, embarrassed sound like a kicked puppy.

azzi tilted her head. “sorry, was that weird?”

paige shook her head fast. “yes. i mean, no. i mean— not weird. totally fine.”

azzi walked over and gently bumped her shoulder. “you’re funny.”

you’re funny.

paige wanted to throw herself into the sun.

just then, nika popped her head into the gym.

“ohhhh,” she called, loud and dramatic. “what’s this? a little after-hours hoop date?”

paige glared. “we’re just shooting.”

azzi, ever the sweetheart, smiled and waved. “hey, nika!”

nika waved back and winked directly at paige. “don’t stay too late, lovebirds.”

she disappeared before paige could cuss her out.

azzi giggled. “she’s funny.”

paige swallowed hard. “yeah. real funny.”

they kept shooting a little longer. paige never fully recovered from the embarrassment she put herself through.

when they finally called it a night, azzi walked beside her toward the locker room. “i’m really glad i transferred,” she said quietly.

paige looked over. “yeah?”

azzi nodded. “everyone’s been really welcoming. especially you.”

paige could barely breathe.

“oh. uh.” she blinked, thinking of the words. “well, you’re easy to welcome.”

azzi’s smile curled into something almost shy. “that’s really sweet.”

paige scratched the back of her neck. “i mean it. you’re… like. good. at everything. and nice. and— you know. people notice that.”

“people like you?” azzi teased, gently.

paige almost dropped her water bottle. “i mean, yeah. maybe.”

azzi smiled so softly, paige thought she might cry.

paige was halfway through tying her shoes when she spots azzi just a few feet away, standing by the gatorade cooler, laughing at something aubrey just said. it should be normal. it is normal. but paige’s brain short-circuits the same way it always does lately when azzi’s in the room.

and then it happened. a moment. a mortifying, soul-leaving-your-body moment.

“yo, paige!” nika yelled across the gym. “you left your phone in the locker room. again.”

she tossed it with a perfect spiral. paige reacted late and fumbled the catch. the phone hits the floor with a dramatic thud, screen up, very much alive, and very much still open to instagram.

specifically, azzi fudd’s instagram page.

a beat of silence. then a few beats.

someone snorted. probably aubrey.

paige dove for the phone, her face already bright red.

“i’m fucking killing myself,” she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut.

out of the corner of her eye, azzi’s gaze landed on her. she never said anything. but she smiled.

oh, jesus.

during a quick water break, azzi was sitting beside paige on the bleachers, who was untying and retying her sneaker for no real reason. nika and caroline are arguing about music again. nobody was really listening.

“god,” azzi groaned softly, scrolling through her phone. “i forgot how cursed my finsta is.”

paige, stretching her calves, froze like someone hit pause. “you have a finsta?”

azzi laughed. “unfortunately— i don’t call it that, though. more like my friends-only account,” she paused. “my friends at usc made me make one. it’s mainly me complaining about homework or pictures of my boyfriend.”

she didn’t mention the username. but paige tucked the information away in the back of her mind.

“sounds cool,” paige said casually, but her mind was already in overdrive. she knew what she’d be doing later, that’s for sure.

paige was supposed to be writing a paper. she had three tabs open for it. but none of them matter. what mattered was the list of usc mutuals she’s stalking, scanning every tagged photo of azzi from the past two years.

it took time. it took way too much time.

but eventually, she found it.

@fuddleazzi. azzi’s not-so-secret account.

private. 63 followers. the profile picture was azzi in a pair of massive ski goggles, wearing a bright smile with her dimples on display. no bio, no nothing.

paige stared at the screen for a full five minutes, thumb hovering over the follow button.

she doesn’t press it.

instead, she swiped up, into the messages app and texted nika:

p: i found azzi’s secret account and i think i deserve a metal

n: SEND ME THE @ U MANIAC

p: it’s private. should i request or would that expose me as terminally obsessed

n: baby u already dropped u phone OPEN TO HER IG. embrace ur downfall

paige groaned into her pillow.

she didn’t request.

but she did screenshot it.

and maybe saved the profile pic too.

just in case.

© wbbobsesser

[cheol-e-kat]

𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞, 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𝐜.𝐬𝐜

𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫

pairing: choi seungcheol x f!reader

summary: y/n’s ex has never fully left her life. but then again how could he when they’re both attorneys at top firms and constantly in opposition.

when they’re finally on the same side, can they let the past go to make a path for the future?

word count (teaser): 700

genre: exes to lovers, rivals, slice of life, attorney au, attorney!seungcheol, attorney!reader, there’s only one bed, idiots in love, *smut

warnings for teaser: none

a/n: lol if you guess my job - anywayyyy, i feel like this is more than the one shot i was imagining, so if you want to be tagged, leave a comment or use my tag list ^^ thanks to everyone for reading, kisses

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝒌𝒂𝒕

master list & tag list

Y/n had known Seungcheol for longer than she liked to admit, and in most instances, he was simply a thorn in her side. She represented people harmed by a company, and he was across the aisle, protecting the company who was completely responsible. 

Even if she was representing a company that had been harmed, their firms were never on the same side, therefore, they were never on the same side. And it didn’t help that they were painfully competitive, even as professionals. They ran against one another for board positions. 

And then there was who could write the most articles in their “spare” time. So far y/n was winning that one with two more publications than Seungcheol. Even if it meant not sleeping - she had more publications next to her name in the alumni publication for the last year. But he was always nipping at her heels. 

But then ‘it’ had happened. 

They had had one case where their firms were on the same side, meaning they were both stuck in some shit hole jurisdiction for weeks on end, with very little to distract them. Not to mention that they were both in the same hotel, which wasn’t shocking given there were two hotels in the whole place and they were booked out with attorneys, journalists, and experts. 

The ‘it’, though, was Seungcheol somehow ending up without a hotel room. Which, if what y/n had happened to hear in the elevator was true, there was some asshole at seungcheol’s firm who was looking to make his life miserable. 

Y/n didn’t love that - ruining Seungcheol’s life was her job. 

She still had his number from when they had first met in college, when they might have been something - she texted him.

[Y/n]

Need a room?

She had waited for him to ask who was texting. She assumed he had deleted her number.

[Cheollie]

How do you know about that?

She rolled her eyes.

[Y/n]

Is that really the important thing?

[Cheollie]

You magically have a room?

[Y/n]

It’s an offer to share but I would suggest you don’t bunk with whatever his name is - the blonde with horrifying bowties - he might actually hate you

She had watched dots - and dots - and then they died away.

[Cheollie]

What room?

જ⁀➴

She had opened the door when he knocked. He looked just exhausted enough to have accepted without too much pressure, which she thought was maybe actually good for him since he, realistically, had no other choice.

She had let him in, glad that she had sprung for the largest room she could. It meant there was a bed and a small sofa, which she imagined Seungcheol could fit on, admittedly, with problems, but that wasn’t her concern.

“Bad flight?” she asked.

He flopped on the tiny sofa, “Fucking shit flight and a four hour layover with no restaurants,” he grumbled. 

“Sorry,” she patted his head as she went to get ready for bed in the bathroom. 

When she came out, she noticed that he was already asleep and looking especially too large for the sofa he had taken without even asking her.

She felt a little bad, but not enough to wake him up. His flight sounded awful - why not let him sleep, she thought to herself. 

She sat up, looking through some files, until she was having trouble keeping her eyes open. She decided it was time for bed, which was just in time for Seungcheol to roll off the tiny sofa, landing with a soft thunk. 

She couldn’t help the snort that escaped her. She watched him sit up, eyes barely open, and his rumpled hair. ‘Cute,’ that was what she immediately thought - how cute he looked. It was the one consistent thing she always felt about him - he was unquestionably cute.  

“Seungcheol,” she saw him glance at her, “just come here.” She patted the empty half of the bed next to her. 

She knew she didn’t sound the appropriate level of exasperated, but she didn’t really care. It wouldn’t be the first time they had shared a bed. 

She was glad that he didn’t argue - he just flopped in the bed the way she remembered. But when she woke up to realize their limbs were tangled and his arm was around her waist, she stared into space, trying to decide if she would elbow him or not. But her thoughts were interrupted. 

“Y/n,” his voice was so soft and close. 

She didn’t move - she wasn’t sure what would happen next. But he just moved closer, his breath warm at the nape of her neck.

“Missed you,” he mumbled.

a/n: i actually started this fic like a month ago, and idk the new hugo boss photo is way too perfect for this banner skskss he’s such a mood

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝒌𝒂𝒕

♡ my [master list] if you want to read more

♡ if you want to be tagged in my posts, go [here] - if you want to be tagged in this fic you can leave a comment or the tag list form

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐥 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐞 ^^

angst - [ a ] || fluff - [ f ] || smut - [ s ]

teasers: all but break your heart |୨୧| tonight tonight

drabbles: co-worker & spanking [ s ] |୨୧| gamer boy [ s ] |୨୧| professor one [ s ] | valentine's day [ f ] #kat_drabbles

fluff: profound, not sudden [ f ]

smut: see bingo series above and random slutty thoughts collection

series: obvious affection [ pt. 1 f ] [ pt. 2 f & s ] |୨୧| 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒖𝒑 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 [ pt. 1 s ] [ pt. 2 s ] |୨୧| 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒇. 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒊 [ pt. 1 s ] [ pt. 2 s ] |୨୧| 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 [ pt. 1 s ] [ pt. 2 f & s ] [ pt. 3 f & s ]

seungcheol bingo [warning all smut]: knotting + marking | professor (prof. choi, pt. 1) | monster | spanking (neighbor seungcheol) | big dick + hate sex | forced masturbastion (prof. choi, pt ii) | voyeurism + punishment | coffee shop au + forbidden relationship (never let you go pt. 1) | bodyguard + drunk confession | anon sex + hair pulling + mask wearing | big dick!cheol + hate sex (choose your own adventure) | sexual frustration + ex sex |

omegaverse (a/b/o): alpha seungcheol [pt. 1 s] [pt. 2 s] || never let you go [master list] [part 1 f & s] [part 2 f ] ||

[ taglist ]

☁︎ @syluslittlecrows [e] ☁︎ @gyuguys [e] ☁︎ @tinyelfperson [e] ☁︎ @unlikelysublimekryptonite [e] ☁︎ @livelaughloveseventeen [e] ☁︎ @codeinebelle [e] ☁︎ @ateez-atiny380 [e] ☁︎ @mingcouper [e] ☁︎ @hanniebub [e] ☁︎ @perfectiondazesworld [e] ☁︎ @scoupshawty [e] ☁︎ @peachytokki [e] ☁︎ @coupsbestleader [e] ☁︎ @fleurloovin [e] ☁︎ @babybae-shisui [e] ☁︎ @asyre [e] ☁︎ @dcrlingyou [e] ☁︎ @yeosayang [e] ☁︎ @nanabananananabatman ☁︎

☁︎ @haik-chu [e - one/multi] ☁︎ @gigglensnort [e - one/multi/priv] ☁︎ @thepoopdokyeomtouched [e - multi/priv] ☁︎

☁︎ @liaaya-17 [c.sc - multi] ☁︎

[project-sekai-facts]

What grinds my gears is what when people say that the reason Kana5 is bad due to it trying to make Mafumon sympathetic.

A couple have even gone as far as saying that Kana5 is as bad as Toya5 for the same reason and I-

Look. I deeply understand the idea of abusers being more complicated than simply “evil trash” is hard to comprehend. And I may sound insensitive but,

They need to grow up. They should not let their biases cloud their judgement and assume something is bad just because a piece of media has something they personally don’t like

the difference between harumichi and mafuyumum is their awareness.

harumichi - fully aware of what he is doing, fully aware his son is his own person and does not stop him despite heavy disapproval

mafumum - completely oblivious to what she is doing to mafuyu, projecting an idealised version of mafuyu onto her (and possibly an idealised version of herself)

harumichi working toya to the bone is him applying how he learnt to toya. the intent was not to physically/emotionally harm toya but that is what ended up happening (physical exhaustion is to be expected, he should not have forced toya to keep working but he deals with the same so he probably doesn't think it's a big deal). that said, he is fully aware of the fact he is taking away from toya's childhood, and admits this in concerto that toya's life was not "normal".

mafumum is entirely unaware of her abuse to mafuyu. this is repeatedly made clear in events post sayonara persona. mafudad relays to her what mafuyu tells him and she's incredibly distressed to learn that she'd been hurting mafuyu and she doesn't know what she did wrong. she can be manipulative, but she's not aware that she's being malicious, she thinks she's genuinely doing what's best for her child who she loves. there's also some context clues such as her young age compared to other parents, the fact she doesn't have a job and the fact she's at a lower social standing to her husband that suggest she may also be projecting the life she didn't get onto mafuyu.

harumichi being given the attempted sympathetic backstory doesn't work. he is neglectful towards his son, but is slowly easing out of these ways a little bit. toya has already begun to make ammends without the need for making harumichi sympathetic. he's a bad parent who did a bad thing knowingly.

with mafumum it is justified. in her first appearance, we see her from the biased viewpoint of kanade, who sees her as a cold and neglectful parent towards mafuyu. however from mafuyu's pov, she is a loving mother who is misguided in how she shows this love. this is what unreliable notes is about. mafumum is a bad parent who did a bad thing unknowingly. she is sympathetic because she is a troubled mother coming to terms with the fact she ruined her child's life.

both characters are loved by their children by virtue of them being their parents. the story is going to convey that no matter how bad they are as people. yes, forgiving abusers in fiction is overdone and to some degree unrealistic, however we do not yet know if that is where the story will go. all we know is that there will be a reconciliation. but even if mafumum specifically gets forgiven, it would not be unjustified. i feel like the first impression we get of mafumum from Kanade POV left a strong impact on a lot of people that they can't let go of. the whole point of the current arc is to let that go. the game builds her up as this malicious antagonistic force so that it can deconstruct that when we get to see her from an unbiased POV. she's not a villain like many people make her out to be, she's a human who made a mistake. a very bad and very big mistake, but a mistake nonetheless. she is a loving mother who fucked up really badly because she was too obsessed over perfection to actually see her daughter for who she is.

if the writers try and make us forgive harumichi though fuck them he fucking sucks. like i feel like toya will because he's like that yknow but i don't think the audience should feel sympathetic towards him.

[pazziiiiiiii]

Hey guys, this is more of a filler chapter to describe what changed after she admitted what her dad told her. Thanks for the feedback so please keep sending it through and ideas for the next part pleaseee!! Next one coming very soon if you guys give me more ideas…

Part 4

It wasn’t like they talked about it.

What Paige had said that night at the court—about her dad, about Azzi—it wasn’t brought up again. Not even in passing. It settled into the space between them like dust in sunlight. Quiet. Unspoken. Still.

And if Paige had hoped telling Azzi would change something, maybe she didn’t realize how much of her didn’t actually want it to. She couldn’t afford it. Couldn’t even let herself want to want it.

She still hadn’t gone back to the guest room, though.

Her bag had stayed in Azzi’s room. Her clothes in the closet. Her shoes lined up by the door. The bed they shared—two pillows, one blanket, space between them that felt like a line she dared not cross.

But even in Azzi’s room, Paige felt far away.

She’d smile at the right times. Laugh, sometimes. She’d go through the motions. Lay there at night, stare at the ceiling, and listen to Azzi breathe like she was measuring her own steadiness against it.

But she wasn’t there. Not really.

Azzi noticed.

Paige could tell by the way Azzi would glance at her during long silences. Or how she’d watch her with a question that never made it past her lips. She’d try to draw her in with little things—“Wanna make pancakes?” or “Wanna shoot around later?”—but Paige always found ways to say yes and still hold herself back.

Azzi didn’t press. Not in the way she could’ve. Not in the way Paige might’ve wanted her to.

Instead, she started talking around it.

“Do you ever feel like… people just expect you to always be okay?” Azzi asked one night, their room lit by the faint blue of her laptop screen. “Like, if you’re not okay, it’s like… disappointing or something.”

Paige didn’t look up from her phone. “Yeah.”

Azzi waited.

But Paige didn’t add anything.

And when she finally glanced over, Azzi had turned back to her screen, earbuds in, lips pressed tight in that way she always did when she was pretending something didn’t sting.

⸻

A few weeks passed.

Long, slow days. Azzi’s family kept their bubble tight—home, court, backyard, repeat. Paige got used to it. Used to the rhythm. The quiet hum of Katie moving through the house, the smell of fresh coffee in the mornings, the way Azzi’s younger siblings knocked before barging in anyway.

It all felt normal.

Too normal.

Like she had almost convinced herself everything was fine.

Because on the outside, it kind of was.

She and Azzi were still best friends. They still did TikToks. Still played HORSE. Still stole food from each other’s plates at lunch. Still sat shoulder to shoulder during dumb Netflix movies, Paige tucking her knees into her chest like she was cold when she just didn’t know where to put her body.

But it was there. In the pauses. In the things they didn’t say.

In the way Paige flinched when their hands brushed and Azzi didn’t react at all.

⸻

The first time Paige saw the text, she froze.

Devon 🙋🏾‍♂️:

“Azzi I know your gonna be cute for me”

“pick u up at 7”

She hadn’t meant to see it. She was looking for the charger they always passed back and forth, and Azzi’s phone had lit up beside her.

Paige didn’t ask. Azzi didn’t offer.

But a few hours later, she came downstairs in jeans that actually fit and a hoodie Paige didn’t recognize. Her curls were a little more defined than usual, lips glossy.

“Where you going?” Paige asked, too casually.

Azzi glanced up from tying her shoes. “Just out for a bit.”

“Out?”

“Dinner.”

“With who?”

Azzi looked at her, and something flickered in her eyes before she shrugged. “Just a friend.”

“Right.” Paige nodded once. “Cool.”

She turned and walked away before she could give anything else away.

⸻

The clock on Paige’s phone glowed 8:47 when she went back into Azzi’s room. She lay on her side of the bed, alone, fully dressed, blanket untouched. The silence felt louder than anything.

She stared at the ceiling. Tried not to imagine who Azzi was with, what she was saying, what it looked like when she laughed at his jokes.

She bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood.

And somewhere beneath it all, shame started to bloom like rot.

Of course Azzi was out with a guy. Of course she’d say yes when someone like him asked. Why wouldn’t she?

She was normal.

And Paige?

Paige was a mess. A secret. Something shameful even to herself.

She pressed her palms into her eyes until the pressure made her see stars. It wasn’t even about the boy. Not really.

It was about knowing that Azzi didn’t see her that way.

And worse—about knowing that it was wrong to want her to.

She thought about her dad. The way his face had twisted when he yelled. The disgust in his voice. Why don’t you just go live with her and ask her to be your girlfriend…

Like just thinking about it was enough to be condemned.

She curled in on herself.

Maybe he was right.

⸻

Azzi didn’t talk about the dinner when she got back. Paige pretended to be asleep, back turned, breath even. She felt the bed dip when Azzi got in, heard the rustle of fabric, the quiet hum of her sigh.

She wanted to turn around. Ask. Was he nice? Did you have fun? Do you like him?

But she didn’t.

Because she didn’t want the answers.

⸻

They stayed like that for days.

Azzi never brought the boy up. Paige never asked.

But she noticed the subtle shifts—how Azzi smiled at her phone more. How she wore the same hoodie again a few days later. How she didn’t stay as close during movie nights anymore.

Maybe it didn’t mean anything.

But it felt like everything.

⸻

They were out on the court one afternoon, just shooting around. Azzi looked lighter than she had in days, her laugh bright as she nailed three in a row from the corner.

“You’re off today,” she teased, passing the ball back.

Paige forced a smile. “Guess I’m just tired.”

Azzi tilted her head. “You’ve been tired for a while.”

Paige caught the ball. Let it sit in her hands.

“I’m fine.”

Azzi watched her. “You always say that.”

Paige didn’t look up. “Because it’s true.”

“It’s not.”

Paige took a shot. Missed. The ball bounced long and she jogged to retrieve it.

When she came back, Azzi was sitting on the edge of the court, arms around her knees, watching the sky.

“Do you want me to stop asking?” Azzi said quietly.

Paige blinked. “What?”

“Because I will. If you want me to.”

Paige sat down next to her, the concrete warm against her thighs.

“I don’t want you to stop,” she said finally.

Azzi turned her head slightly. “Then what do you want?”

The question sat heavy in the air.

Paige stared at the court. “I don’t know.”

Azzi didn’t say anything. She didn’t reach out. Didn’t scoot closer. She just nodded like she understood and let the silence settle again.

Paige wanted to thank her.

And scream.

And cry.

She did none of those things.

⸻

The next night, Katie made pasta. The house smelled like garlic and roasted tomatoes. Azzi was on FaceTime in the other room, laughing about something, her voice soft and fond. Paige stirred the sauce even though it was already done.

She didn’t ask who was on the other end of the call.

She didn’t want to know.

That night, Paige turned away from Azzi in bed again.

Azzi didn’t move closer.

⸻

The thing was… they still were best friends. That hadn’t changed. Not on the surface.

But every laugh felt a little shorter now. Every touch a little less certain. Every moment just a little too carefully navigated.

Paige felt like she was walking on a tightrope above something she couldn’t name. And every time she thought about Azzi—her laugh, her eyes, her kindness—something twisted deep in her gut.

It wasn’t just the fear.

It was the shame.

The knowledge that what she felt might ruin everything.

That maybe it already had.

⸻

On the second Friday of the month, they went for a walk. Just the two of them. No phones. No plan. Just wind and sky and space.

Azzi talked about her brothers. About how they were driving her insane. About how she missed AAU. About the show she started watching without Paige.

Paige listened. Nodded. Laughed at the right times.

But she felt like she was watching it all happen through a window she couldn’t open.

⸻

That night, Azzi finally said it.

Not everything. Just enough to make Paige freeze.

“You haven’t hugged me in weeks.”

They were sitting on the floor folding laundry, socks and shirts in scattered piles around them.

Paige looked up, startled.

Azzi wasn’t mad. Her voice was soft. But her eyes were serious.

“I didn’t notice,” Paige lied.

“I think you did.”

Silence stretched again.

“I just…” Paige started, then stopped. “I’ve just been in my head a lot.”

Azzi nodded slowly.

“I don’t want to push you,” she said. “But it’s weird, not having you with me. Even when you’re right here.”

Paige folded a shirt with shaking hands.

“I know, I’m trying really hard,” she whispered.

“I know. But you have to let me in at some point.”

Paige only nodded.

They finished folding the laundry without another word.

⸻

That night, when they got in bed, Paige lay stiff as ever. But this time, she said something, eyes locked on the ceiling.

“I’m sorry Azzi, I really am,” she said, voice quiet.

Her throat burned.

“I know P. I know. I’m always gonna be here. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

Paige didn’t sleep for hours that night. Too caught up in her own thoughts. Like she had been for the past weeks.

[centrally-unplanned]

Wasn't quite in the headspace today to be postin', but the New York Times had to drag me to my keyboard by publishing an article about "The rise of otaku". An article on otaku! In the Year of Our Lord 2025!!

It isn't that you can't do that, of course - the thesis about how Japan's otaku approaches to fandom grew to dominate the wider world is a perfectly valid one to discuss. But if you do, you need to grapple with the cultural detritus the West has accumulated about "otaku culture" over the years, and it does not reach that bar. It isn't "cringe", it isn't obviously wrong, but it is stuck in the past. Take the headshot you can see above of a 単眼面/Tanganmen, or "one-eyed mask". The author is using it to showcase the ~crazy things~ people in Japan who are into anime-adjacent stuff do. In other words, the Weird Japan trope, where for complex reasons niche one-off things done by influencer-types or media companies in Japan get transported to the West to be used as symbols of Japan's "alt" culture. So while in English searching "tanganmen" throws up Vice articles, in Japan the creator of these masks Ozawa Dango has 6000 followers on Twitter:

She first made them in 2012, and while like props to her for keeping an art project alive, the source the NYT uses is an article from 2019, 7 years later - which is itself from 6 years ago! This isn't a "thing" in Japan, it is not a relevant part of otaku culture, and I think having it be front billing here is deceptive. I have a similar-if-less-intense reaction to the usages of the classic "otaku room photos" in the article:

This does reflect a real phenomenon, for sure, but for one the first photo is from 2014, and the second from 2019. In fact, none of the photos in the article are from the 2020's at all - a serious problem for a discussion of a youth pop-culture-focused movement. But let's take that first photo - it is from Shiori Kawamoto's 2014 “Daraku Room” book. Did you notice, like I did, that our girl is, well, really hot? Like way too hot to be that devoted to moe yuri series YuruYuri? For context, let's look at some other photos from that book!

Thanks, JapanTease.net! I can't tell you where this book ranks on the gravure-scale, I don't own it, but I can promise you is not zero. That girl might actually be a massive yuri manga fan, I won't judge, but the point is that pulling photos from a softcore porn glam book to stand-in for otaku is not what we in the statistics business call a representative sample. Like the one-eyed mask, this isn't real otaku at all.

Okay, enough photo dunks, let's get into the text. Those dunks are relevant, of course; they play on older tropes about Japan, "Weird Japan" and the "Otaku Room", and that problem continues throughout the article. First up, we have foundational quotes from Susan Napier, who is something of a trope herself as the first American academic to publish serious-yet-accessible works about anime starting in the 1990's. I am not a fan of her work, as she constantly tries to draw overly ambitions and serious social and historical connections between anime and the world, and we see that on display here:

[She] traces the origins of the otaku to the Edo period. Beginning in the early 17th century, sanctioned red-light districts known as pleasure centers were built in Tokyo, Kyoto and Osaka as sites for courtesans to entertain men; other areas were designated for enjoying Kabuki theater. “You had the development of a fan culture with people who loved a particular courtesan or actor.”

Strictly wrong? No - but Edo's red-light districts did not invent the idea of a celebrity, let's be real. That is a socially-universal concept that existed for centuries before then across the globe, and it didn't really lead to otaku (a very modern phenomenon) in any causal way. But it makes it sound more distinguished, more artistic, the way 2000's fans of anime in the west wanted their hobby to look.

That temptation to universalize cuts a different way too - lumping too much under the "otaku" umbrella. Since it has that "otaku led the future of fandom" thesis, it wants to label everything from themed Shinjuku bars to Lolita as "obsessive otaku fandom" to sell you on that idea. However, while those concepts are linked, sure, are they the same phenomenon? When, as the article quotes, Marie Kondo calls herself an "organizing otaku", is she actually saying anything about creative fandom? Or is she making a joke, and she is just an interior designer/lifestyle guru like every country everywhere has had for decades? These comparisons obscure more than elucidate, because "otaku" culture was historically, by a large majority, composed of media otaku. Japan did not invent or export a model of people being devoted craftsmen or opening themed restaurants. What it did "export" was the idea of fandom-as-identity and fandom-as-creativity, which media fans in the relevant eras dominated.

A topic around which, admittedly, the article has a bit of a knot it can't untie; because it is an article about otaku that doesn't want to mention sex. Beyond Edo-era red-light districts, the only mention is from a gender lens:

Wong and others make a point to address what he calls “the elephant in the room”: an undercurrent of female sexualization that began with manga and which, in what’s still a rather male-dominated society, extends to the broader world of otaku

"Elephant in the room" guys it is the whole room. It is a whole city block! You mention Comiket - oh sorry, "Comic Market" - but delicately dance around how those "750,000 attendees" bought at least as many porn doujins. And unlike Marie Kondo this is foundational to how otaku cultural dynamics were formed, and how they spread - the erotic content was a core part of why everyone "showed up" in the early days. And it is how the media mix and fandom-creator model spread to other countries, building on extant communities writing fanfiction and making fanart zines. You could not mention this topic at all if you didn't want to, but if you are going to touch on "sexualization" you need to own its importance. I almost see this as a sort of memetic response; in the anime early days everyone bashed otaku as perverts. In the new, tolerant era of today the author doesn't want to engage with that, but they overcorrect by essentially ignoring it. You have to find the middle here if you want to understand the history.

Okay, okay, that is enough - I know this is a very "death of a thousand cuts" essay, there isn't like a core failed thesis. As the New York Times, articles like these both set the standard for narratives around a topic and reflect the standard ideas already out there, so it is frustrating for it to be so... ungainly, and I wanted to note that. Set the record straight, as it were. But I will admit it is better than it probably would have been a decade ago, it does reflect growth in the discourse. And it isn't like it has some straight up nonsen—

After the original series [Neon Genesis Evangelion] aired, his most passionate followers, disappointed with the final two episodes, pressured Anno to redo the ending in a subsequent film trilogy.

Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME there are practically storyboards for End of Evangelion in the show broadcast next episode previews oh sure fans had to pressure Anno to fulfill the dream of every anime creative to get a big movie budget and make millions of dollars doing what he wanted to do for the TV show anyway before they collectively shot the production schedule in the head what kind of ADV Films 90's mistranslated rag interview garbled by a 2000's Reddit post bullshit is this the NEW YORK TIMES is LYING ABOUT THE PRODUCTION HISTORY OF EVANGELION I will BREAK INTO YOUR GOD DAMN HOUS—

[pome-seed]

დ1940s Loverდ

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky x 1940s!Reader

Summary: She never thought a trip to the laundromat would end in her meeting the love of her life. She never thought a trip to the laundromat would change her life forever.

A love with Bucky through the years, starting in the 30s, flowing through a raging war and a looming goodbye.

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: Fluff. Smut. Sexual Content. Angst. Sweet 1940s Bucky. Mention of war. Mention of blood and wounds and guns. 18+ MDNI

Authors Note: Hi guys! I've had this one in my closet for a while. I really love this one and hope you guys do to. There's a part 2 if you guys end up wanting it. Just let me know. But I hope you guys love this one, because I really really do! (also yes I mention a song from the 60s in this but pretend it was made 30 years before shhhhh) Comment and be kind!

She didn’t love doing laundry, but she loved the smell of fresh clothes. She also loved inventive machinery. She was young and curious, still living with her parents. They were a small family that generated a large mess. Her mother was a teacher, her father a soldier. There wasn’t much time for them all to gather at home together. So household duties usually fell on her.

So she found herself in a brand new self operating laundromat. 

The first time she visited the place, it was bustling with life. People from all around her neighborhood were marveling at the new inventive idea. She was thankful for it, too. Back home they didn’t have the money for a washing machine, and usually washed everything by hand. 

She spent two days a week in the quiet little building, washing her family's clothes and linens. She’d begun to enjoy the peace to herself.

For the first time in a while, she was the only person in the laundromat. She sat against a small bench in the center of the room, a book folded in her lap as she listened to the machines clink. 

The front door jingled, signalling another patron. She didn’t feel the need to look, content with keeping to herself. But then she heard the sound of two duffle bags hit the floor, and a very concerned sigh. She looked up to see a rather handsome looking young man staring at the machines in confusion. 

She bit back a smile as she watched him shuffle up to the orange machine, digging through his pockets for change. He glanced at the coins, then at the washer. 

“Need a hand?” She felt compelled to help him. She wasn’t one for talking to strangers, but he just looked so stupidly helpless. 

He looked surprised, embarrassment making him smile shyly. “That obvious?”

She closed her book and set it aside. “Just a bit.”

“I’ve just-” he chuckled, shrugging. “Never used one of these before.”

“Not many people have, they’re quite the feat.” She smiled, approaching him. “But they’re not that bad, trust me.” She glanced back at his two large bags. “You might be here a while, though.”

“I wish I would have brought a book. Do they have a radio?” He tilted his head at her, bright blue eyes curious.

She shook her head, “not yet.” 

He sighed, clicking his tongue. “Well I better get started then. Take mercy on me?” He blinked at her through dark lashes and a soft smile. 

She lifted a brow at him. “You might need a notebook for future use, mr…”

“Barnes, James Barnes,” he held his hand out, a charming smile spreading across his lips. “But people call me Bucky.”

She took his hand, returning his quick shake. “Bucky? Is that a nickname?” 

He nodded. “‘M middle name is Buchannon. My buddy gave me the name Bucky when we were kids.” He stuck his hand back in his pocket. “And what might your name be, doll?”

Her stomach fluttered at the name. “Y/n,” she introduced herself. “No nickname.” 

“Y/n,” the name rolled off his tongue like a purr. She suddenly felt nervous, speaking to such a handsome man. “Pretty name. So, Y/n, help me out here?”

She nodded, laughing at the kicked puppy look he had on his face. “Alright, alright.”

So she spent the next fifteen minutes walking him through the mechanics of the machines. She went a bit off topic as she rambled about the fantastical changes between old models and new. She had a knack for mechanics. 

She caught herself rambling once she realized he had his chin in his hand, his eyes fixed on her, as they sat together. “Oh- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to talk so much.” She chuckled.

He shook his head, smiling fondly. “No, no, I’m enjoying it. The technicalities behind such mundane things never really cross my mind. It’s nice to hear about how it all works. How do you know all this stuff?”

“Ah- my father, he’s a pilot. He used to build these little models when I was just a girl. He sometimes let me help him because I had smaller hands.” She wiggled her fingers at him.

He chuckled, looking at her hands. “So do you still build things? Machines like these?”

She stared at him like he had two heads. “Of course not,” she could almost laugh. “I’m a woman, can’t you tell?”

Bucky shook his head, a small smile on his lips. “Ah, so what? I’ve never understood all that.” He waved a hand. “Smaller hands are great for precise work. And I don't mean knitting.”

“Good thing I can’t knit.”

“Perfect. But can you build machines still? Have you tried since you were just a girl?” He tilted his head at her. 

She felt a bit flustered under the weight of the conversation. She’d just met him, she shouldn’t be speaking of such political matters with him. But she felt a flame flicker in her stomach under his insistence. “I haven’t tried in a long time. You don’t usually just have spare parts lying around.”

“Go to a junkyard, I knew boys back in school who scavenged for days for a bike.”

She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh yes, I’ll just go dig through trash for a few hours. The perfect plan.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been told I’m a great strategist.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah? From who?”

“My best pal, the one digging through the trash for a bike.” He grinned, his shoulders shaking with a suppressed laughter. 

She snickered, shaking her head. “Sounds like a very honest and cooperative friendship.”

“Oh, the best around. Perfectly even. I have the ideas, he has the heart.”

“How sweet. I can only imagine the trouble you two cause.”

“Oh trust me, you don’t want to.” He gave her a mischievous look. 

“So what is it you two do in the time you’re not digging through trash and starting problems?”

“I work in the newspaper,” he calmed his laughter. “Print work. Have you ever seen a print machine?” He offered. 

“No, but I’ve always wondered.” She hummed, leaning in in interest. 

“Well, they’re just these giant hunks of metal covered in ink. I work with loading up the print machines and rolling on the ink to press into the papers. Nothin’ fancy, really. But I always get the fresh scoop of news before anyone else.” He grinned cheekily. 

“Very nice, what’s your favorite column then? Do you favor the hot gossip?”

“Oh of course. Who cares about war and politicians, when I can know who’s been caught in a public affair.”

She gasped dramatically. “What do you know?” She inched closer. 

“I’ll never tell,” he teased.

“Oh you can’t do that!”

“Oh yes I can, it's my job!”

She groaned, waving her hand at him. “I’ll get you to tell me.”

He shook his head. “How do I know you’re not secretly working for a rival reporter? This might all be a grand scheme to steal our research.” He looked around the room in dramatic suspicion. 

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes that's exactly what I’m doing here.”

“See, I knew it.”

The pair spent the next two hours in lively conversation and banter. By the time their clothes were nice and dry, she was teaching him how to properly fold his clothes. He enjoyed the gentle way she scolded him. She loved the cheeky way he always had a new joke to tell. 

He exuded this comfortable confidence in himself, it was contagious. He was like a ball of light. He didn’t even notice the fond way she teased him, because all he could focus on was how enjoyable her presence was. 

Each moment with her was sparkling with life and oozing comfortable chemistry. 

By the time they had finished their laundry, he was doing all he could to stretch out the time with her. The sun was setting, casting the city in warm darkness. “Can I walk you home?” He asked, leaning against the machines.

She bit back her smile, glancing at his bags of laundry. “You want to carry all that through the city with me?”

He shook his head, then nodded at a car parked along the street. “I have somewhere to put it.”

She gaped at him, a shiver running down her spine. “You have a car?” She gasped. Nobody had a car- not normal people. The image she had been crafting of this sweet man was suddenly changing very quickly.

“It’s my family’s, we share it, of course.” He smiled at her shyly, suddenly looking a bit timid. 

“Wow,” she huffed. “Why not just drive me home then, mister Barnes?” She asked, trying to hide her shock with a bit of cheek.

 “Well because the night would end a lot sooner than I want it to.”

She hid her blush as she turned to look down the street. “Well go put your clothes away then, I’ll wait here.”

It was like the words found no end as they walked along. Bucky had taken up carrying her laundry for her, holding the basket under his arm as they walked. She was charmed by the gentlemanly act. 

“I’m-I’m serious-” Bucky cackled, almost tripping on a lift in the sidewalk. “He- he was trying to stop us from breaking news about the lawsuit, so he broke into the newsroom, and Mike got into this big fight with him-” he paused, catching his breath. “And he trapped his head in the press!”

“Oh my god- did the ink…?”

“Oh, he went down town with the headline stained into his cheek.”

She snickered, shoulders bouncing with laughter. They had started going back and forth, sharing stories of their lives- and evidently, this was his favorite as of recent. 

“Well, I don’t really have anything to beat that,” She sighed, glancing up at the stars. “I don’t get to go out and do much.”

“Why not?” He asked, composing himself.

She shrugged. “Oh, I don't know. I do love to go out, I love dancing and the theater and nature, I just love life. I just never get to go out much. My friend Betty and I used to go out together, but she has just been so busy recently, I haven’t had the chance.”

He nodded thoughtfully, chewing on his cheek in thought as they approached her front steps. “Would you like to go skating with me and my buddy this week?”

She paused, turning to look at him. “Really?”

He nodded, that cheeky smile twisting at her lips. “This friday, I’ll pick you up. You can bring your friend too.”

She couldn’t see it, but he was swallowing down a great deal of panic, awaiting her answer. She blinked at him in shock, then let out a delighted breath. “I’d love to, Bucky.”

And like that, she saw the man every week. She and her close friend would join him and his friend Steve for an event and dinner. He would pick her up from her home, greet her mother, then sweep her off for the night. 

Unlike many people their age, they never crossed that boundary of intimate friendship- not for a long time, at least. They spent their time as equals, enjoying each other's friendship and sharing life experiences. 

There was always something else there, something strong and warm and sweet, but they let it simmer and grow in quiet acknowledgment.

“Woah-!” She yelped as their seat was lifted off the ground. 

“Hold on, doll.” Bucky snickered, guiding her hands to the ropes at their sides.

From above, she could see it all. Lights and laughter blended together with the smell of cheap food and sugar. Children shrieked in laughter as they chased each other between booths. Teenagers egged eachother on in the lines leading up to the newest attractions.

She’d never been to Coney Island before Bucky. She’d never had occasion- or funds- to go. 

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, staring out at all the bright lights. 

They sat on one of Bucky’s favorite rides. Steeplechase’s Parachute Ride. It was technically a hot air balloon with cords bolting it to the ground. But instead of a basket, there was a two person seater. 

“Very,” Bucky smiled, looking at the way the breeze made her hair fluff up, whisping around her face. 

She glanced back at him, one of her hands still clutching tightly at his bicep. “You ain’t smooth, you know?” She fought the smile tugging at her lips.

He pressed a hand over his heart, mock wounded. “You hurt me, sugar.” 

She snickered, looking back out over the expanse of the boardwalk and the gentle waves of the ocean. “I do apologize.”

He dropped his hand, holding the ropes. “Mhm, very sincere.” He sighed. “You like it?” he nodded at the fair. “I thought you would. I hoped you would.” He smiled softly, his ears tinged a light pink.

“You thought right. It’s pretty from up here. You know I’ve never been on a ferris wheel?” She stared over at the giant ride across the way from them.

He gaped at her. “You’re kiddin’, right?” She shook her head. “Then that’s where we’re goin’ next. I hope you ain’t afraid of heights like that.”

“We’ll just have to see.”

And they did.

 Bucky dragged her from one attraction to another. The ferris wheel was her favorite. Bucky asked her if she’d ever thought about how machines like those ones worked- opening up the opportunity for her to get lost in her fantasies. 

She of course went on, rocking their metal seat as she leaned forward to get a look at the center of the wheel. She told him about how engineers had to design all those rides, working the ins and outs for safety and functionality.

Bucky grinned from ear to ear as he listened to her, fascinated with her curious mind. 

After the ferris wheel, he took her to get a funnel cake and another pound of sugar in cheap snacks. Once she felt sick from corn dogs and cotton candy, he decided they should take a cool down walk through the games.

Each booth was decorated in gaudy stuffed animals and small toy boxes. All of the games were rigged, they both knew, but it couldn’t take from their fun. 

Bucky nearly lost his mind playing that forsaken bottleneck ring toss game. She had to drag him away before he blew another pocket of change just on the chance to win her a stupid bear.

“Come on, I wanna ride that coaster.” She snickered, taking him by the arm.

“The Cyclone? Oh sugar, I’ve got a story for you.” He trailed after her.

“If it involves you torturing poor Stevie and makin’ him throw up everywhere, I already know.” She knocked her shoulder into his.

“How do you know about that?” He smirked, slipping his hand down her lower back to guide her through the crowd. 

“At the diner last week when you went to order our shakes, Stevie told me all about your last trip here.” She snickered. “Poor boy looked traumatized!”

“He had fun,” Bucky smiled, thinking back on the day he forced his friend to ride the rollercoaster until he threw up. He remembered patting his back until he was no longer green in the face.

“Oh I’m sure you thought so. I might have to come back here with Steve next time, show him some real fun.” She huffed.

“You pickin’ sides now?” He scoffed, manoeuvring them into the line.

“Maybe.” She smirked.

Bucky leaned down a little onto her level, his blue eyes sharp against the lowering sunset. ���Now, I don’t like that. I found you first.”

“I ain’t no toy, Barnes.” She poked his chest gently.

He caught her hands in his. “Oh I know. But you’re gonna hurt my ego if you go spendin’ your time with my buddy instead of me.”

“Every man's ego needs a little hurtin’ every now and then.” She smiled, ignoring the soft blush in her cheeks.

He scoffed, pulling back. “I have a feelin’ you’re gonna be showin me plenty of that.”

“Oh don’t you know it.”

“Steve, over here!” She waved her arm dramatically in the air from where she sat on her blanket. The shorter man straightened when he saw her, a timid smile lighting up his face. Not far behind him, trailed an excited Bucky. 

The sun was still warm on her skin, coloring the sky a pretty orange as it readied to set. Around her, couples and friends and families alike sat on blankets, chatting and simmering in excitement. 

It was the end of summer, early august, when the music festival rolled into town. She was beyond excited, and so were the boys. They had all grown close over their shared love of music, so she decided they would all attend together. 

“Better late than never,” she scolded softly as the pair approached. 

Steve threw a look over his shoulder at his dark headed friend. “Ask him, he had to stop twenty times for the basket.” He said as he settled on the blanket. 

Bucky set a wicker picnic basket down in front of her, before taking his seat beside her. “Hey, you say that now, but if we didn't bring food you’d be whinin’ the whole night.”

She slapped his arm for his sass, chuckling to herself. She peaked inside the basket to find a few cans of coke and some snacks. “Well I guess I can’t be too mad, thank you, Bucky,” she sent him a soft smile.

He hid his blush by looking up to find the band setting up. “I’m shocked they haven't started yet,” he muttered. 

“This is the second band,” she huffed, squinting at the boys. “You missed the first one.”

“We’re sorry, I’ll make sure to give him hell for making you wait.” Steve offered. 

She grinned, bumping her shoulder with the blond boys. “That’s why you're my favorite.” She snickered when Bucky grumbled. “Anyways, shush, they’re starting soon.”

So the trio sat together, setting out their snacks to enjoy the show together. When the music started, the woman felt herself relaxing. It was a beautiful picture, painted by the sunset and couples standing to dance. The man singing had a silky smooth deep voice, powerful in the way it carried through the park. 

She took a sip of her soda, then climbed to her feet. She left her heels on the blanket, knowing they would just sink in the grass. “Come here, Stevie, let's dance.” She held her hands out, looking at him. The boy sunk into himself, shaking his head. 

“You know I can’t-”

“Oh, but you can,” She said, grabbing his arm and dragging him up. She glanced at Bucky over the boy's shoulder, who was snickering to himself.

She took Steve’s hands in hers and started hopping around on her feet. “Come on, just move,” she giggled, spinning around with him to the upbeat music. 

Steve stumbled along, doing his best through the laughter bubbling in his chest. Bucky watched the pair, grinning as he watched his best friend having such a good time. He also couldn’t help but enjoy the moment to fondly watch the woman. 

Since they’d all become friends she had taken to the lively feeling the two gave her. Every week, Bucky looked forward to seeing her. He especially loved moments like this, watching her spin and giggle. The way the sun caught the strands of hair that slipped from her loose curls. 

She dragged Steve into a dramatic twirl as the music picked up, the pair of them almost toppling over. “Alright- alright,” Steve laughed, slowing to a stop. “I oughtta stop now before I hurt myself- or you.” 

She sighed, letting him go to sit back down. She glanced over to Bucky, who continued to watch her. “What about you, mister Barnes? Can you dance?”

He scoffed, mock offended, as he stood. “Of course I can dance.” 

“I’ll have to be the judge of that,” she smirked, holding her hands out for him. She gasped when he tugged her close, leading them into a swing. She shrieked out a laugh as he took the lead, one hand on her hip, the other in hers, spinning them around. 

Her bare feet slid across the grass, a gentle breeze rustled through the trees. They pranced dramatically in the small patch of space beside their blanket. 

“Never doubt me, doll,” he teased, twirling her. 

She grinned, spinning and tripping into his chest. Bucky let them slow down for a moment. “You call this dancing?” She poked, her hands falling to his chest. 

They’d never before been so close, but it felt so easy- like second nature. He let his hands fall to her hips, his ears tinged a soft pink. “What would you call it, hm?”

“A mess,” she teased. 

Bucky scoffed, tilting his head back to laugh. “You think you’re slick, but you’re just trying to push my buttons.” She opened her mouth for a comeback, but yelped when he swiftly dipped her. 

She gasped, tilted back far enough to fall without his steady arm. “Shocking me into silence doesn't give you the last word.” She tried to steady her breathing. 

He pulled her back up, her hands steadying herself on his shoulders. He tucked a frizzy lock of loose hair behind her ear, a grin on his lips. “I think it does.”

The knock at her front door made her heart jump. She checked her reflection in the mirror by the door. When she cracked it open, she was met with a beautifully groomed young man. He wore a dark blue suit, his hair combed back nicely, and a nice watch to match. He held a single red rose between his fingers. 

“Evening,” she greeted, holding back her excited smile. “How can I help you?”

“Good Evening. I’m here to pick up a pretty young lady for a date.” He smiled, doing his best not to shamelessly rake his eyes over her. 

“Well I’ll just have to check inside, I don’t know if I have one of those on hand.” 

He clicked his tongue, finally letting himself look over her pretty pink dress and short red heels. “I beg to differ.”

She finally let her laughter escape, letting her door swing open. “I’ll have to warn her, you’re quite bold.”

“I have a feeling she already knows.” He stepped closer. “For you,” he held out the rose to her. She grinned, taking the pretty flower in hand. She brought it to her nose to smell. 

“Thank you, Bucky.”

“It’s not as pretty as you, doll, but I do what I can.” 

She ignored the blush rising in her cheeks as she stared at the rose. “You wait here, I’ll go put it somewhere safe.” She said as she hurried down the hall to place the rose in some water. She snagged her purse from the counter, then met him back at the door. 

He held his hand out to her, a cheeky smile on his lips. She slipped her palm in his after locking the door. “So, where to tonight, handsome?” 

He tilted his head back, looking dramatically in thought. “Well, I was hoping I could treat you to a movie. Maybe… the Phantom of the Opera?” He glanced at her sideways.

She gasped, squeezing his hand. “Oh I’ve been wanting to see that!” She said excitedly. “How did you know?”

“I have my secrets,” he teased, leading her down to the car. It was a shiny and new blue 1940s cruiser sedan. She felt fancy every time she sat inside it. He closed the car door for her once she was inside, then took his own seat.

“Your secrets are going to get you in trouble one day, mister Barnes.” She squinted at him, trying to hide her smile. 

The car rumbled to life as they pulled onto the street. “You’re distracting the driver, young lady.”

“You act like such an old man,” she giggled. 

“And you act like I’m some youngster,” he grinned, turning them down another street. 

“Well in my eyes you haven't changed a bit,” she snickered at his offended expression. 

“I’ve grown quite a bit in these years, you know.” He huffed. 

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

If he weren’t driving, he’d turn his head and glare at her softly.

.

“Tickets for two,” Bucky held up his fingers for the woman behind the glass to see. He slid the money across the small counter. She  blushed at his side, holding his arm. She knew he had money, but seeing him always spend it on her so easily got her flustered.

He guided her to the concession stand where he bought them a small bucket of popcorn- mostly for her, he barely cared for it. She was buzzing with excitement as they entered the theater. 

“You spoil me, you know?” She whispered as they took their seats.

“Oh I know,” he grinned, his blue eyes bright in the dark theater. 

“A gentleman isn’t so cheeky about it, though,” she pinched his arm.

“But a gentleman does buy his favorite girl snacks. I have good and bad, don’t I?” He set the bucket of popcorn in her lap.

She was thankful for the darkness of the theater, so he couldn’t see her warm red cheeks. “I’m your favorite?”

“My only,” he whispered, as the music of the film began. He slid his hand into hers again, interlocking their fingers. 

She bit back her smile, turning her attention to the screen. 

.

After parking outside her apartment, Bucky tugged her away from the front door. At first she was confused, but he proposed they take a quick stroll. 

She followed after him with a smile, holding him close by the arm. “It was a beautiful movie, don’t you think? I just loved the music.” She gushed. 

“It was nice,” he hummed, looking up at the night sky. “Would you fall for it? A scarred, masked man?” He glanced at her. 

“Mm, I wonder,” she pondered, spinning to stand in front of him. She held her hands up in front of his face. She squinted in thought, watching him snicker. “Maybe,” she surmised as he wrapped his hands around her wrists and lowered them. “Depends how mysterious he is.”

“Am I mysterious enough?”

“Oh, not nearly.”

He clicked his tongue, mock offended. 

“And you? If I was all scarred, forced to wear a mask and hide away, would you still long for me?” She asked, stepping closer to him. His hands fell to her waist.

“I’d long for you no matter the cause.” He muttered, glancing at her lips.

She rested her palms on his chest. “Oh yeah? What if I had no hair?”

He traced his finger along her cheek, then tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “I’d think no different.”

“What if I were blind?” She closed her eyes, biting back her smile.

“I’d get to observe you freely, without worrying you’d catch me.” 

A laugh bubbled in her chest as she looked at him again. “That could sound ominous, if I didn’t know you.”

“Mysterious, even?” He grinned.

“Nope,” she smacked her red lips together. “Just ominous. Maybe you are the phantom, a voyeur, watching me from close and afar.” She whispered, leaning close. 

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’d never know. I’m too good at keeping my secrets.”

“I’ll pry them out of you one day. You could never hide anything from me for long.”

“So you say.” He grinned, glancing between her lips and pretty eyes.

She gasped dramatically. “Are you hinting that you have secrets I don’t know about?”

“Perhaps,” he whispered.

“Tell me!” She insisted, giggling as he suddenly pulled out of her space. She slipped her arm around his as he began walking them back to her apartment. “Oh please?”

He shook his head. “I have to work on being mysterious, you said so yourself.”

“Oh you can be mysterious to everyone else. I must know.” She insisted, chuckling.

“Not a chance. I’ll have to wait, confess my darkness near the end of the story.” He guided her up the front steps and towards her door.

“Any point in life could be the end of your story, mister Barnes. Might as well spill your secrets now.”

“I’m not going anywhere, doll.” He chuckled, bringing her knuckles to his lips. 

“You say that now. You’ll regret this when nobody knows your mighty secrets.” She blushed, watching him kiss the soft skin of her hands. 

“You know all the best about me, that's all I care about. And you, miss? Any dark secrets you’re dying to confess?”

She shrugged, busying her hands with adjusting his collar. “A few, but a woman should always have a few secrets for herself.”

“How contradicting.”

She smiled, stepping closer. “They say that's the perfect way to describe a woman.”

He shook his head slowly, staring down at her. “I’d describe you differently.”

“And how's that?”

“Perfect,” he whispered, a warm pink tinting the tips of his ears. She grinned up at him, brushing his jaw with her gentle touch. She leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. She pretended not to notice the way he chased the touch when she pulled back. 

“Thank you for tonight, Bucky.” She whispered. 

He nodded, his thumb rubbing circles on her hips. “I’d do it every night if I could.”

She chuckled, stepping back to open her front door. “If only,” she agreed. She paused, hand on the doorknob. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

“Goodnight sweetheart.”

Music wafted around them softly as Bucky held her close. Couples around them laughed, giggling into eachothers spaces. Bucky hummed softly to the lyrics, his palm sweeping down her back.

“I love this song.” She whispered against his shoulder, the gentle tune of I love how you love me by Bobby Vinton surrounding them.

“Oh yeah?” He muttered, looking down at her. 

“Mhm,” she smiled raking her nails gently through the short hairs on the back of his neck.

Bucky’s eyes fluttered closed, a soft sigh leaving his chest. He leaned into her touch, her fingers dancing along his skin. His thumbs pressed gently into her waist as he guided their slow sway. 

He opened his eyes to see her watching him. His lips tugged into a lopsided grin. “Let me take you home.” He whispered.

“Yeah?” She muttered breathlessly.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” She nodded. “Take me home.”

They were slow on their stroll, enjoying the feeling of the summer night air against their skin. They took their time, arms around one another as they pointed at the stars, picking out the brightest ones to name. 

There was no rush. 

There was just each other. 

So when her front door finally unlocked, and she beckoned him inside, he felt at peace. At home. 

A single lamp by the door flickered to life as she clicked it on, shedding her purse and scarf on the nearest chair. She glanced at the man over her shoulder.

“Help me with my necklace?” 

He smiled to himself, stepping into her space, her back against his chest. She plucked her earrings free as he busied his fingers with the clasp of her pearls. 

Bucky laid out the necklace on the vanity at their side, then traced his fingers along the column of her neck. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the exposed skin of her shoulder. She sighed, rolling her head to the side subtly. 

Bucky smiled to himself, dragging his lips and peppering small kisses in their wake along her throat. His hand slipped into her hair, tugging her pretty ribbon free, letting it flutter to the floor. 

She let him shower her in gentle affection, leaning back into him as his hands met her hips. She tilted her head to the side, catching his lips with her own. He hummed quietly into her mouth, warm and familiar. 

She shivered as his touch ghosted along the fabric of her back. 

 He pulled back, his lips brushing her ear, his breath warm.

“Let me, please?” He whispered, his finger toying with the zipper of her dress. 

She shuddered, nodding slowly. 

The zipper made a light buzzing sound as it released, dragging down her back. The warm air of her apartment felt fresh and prickling against her naked skin.

Bucky’s warm palms slid over her shoulders, guiding the dress to fall at her feet. He released a sharp breath against her neck as he looked down at her. 

She turned her blushing gaze to look back at him, over her shoulder.

“Oh sweetheart,” he whispered, turning her by the hips. Her hands found his chest. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, then to her jaw, letting his lips travel down her neck. To her shock, he slowly sank to his knees before her.

Her breath stuck in her chest as she watched him, slipping his thumbs beneath her stockings. 

He looked up at her, bright blue eyes, pretty pink lips, dark swept hair. He guided her tights down her thighs, his calluses raising shivers along her skin.

He traced a path down to her knees in kisses, his lips ticklish in the way they gently pressed into her. 

He slipped her heels from her feet, letting them clatter to the side. 

“Oh, Bucky,” she gasped breathlessly as he swept his tongue along her hip, just above her panties. 

“Let me take care ‘f you, sweetheart.” He muttered, his voice sounding deep against her body. 

“Okay,” she nodded. “Okay.”

When he finally shed his layers, standing before her naked and purely him, her breath hitched in her throat. He didn’t give her the time to worship how he did, as he guided her body back against the bed. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, spreading her knees to make room for himself. 

She shivered, his palms dragging patterns up her stomach and over her bare chest. She arched into it, his name falling from her lips. 

He groaned, leaning back over her. “So pretty, doll.” He slipped his fingers into his mouth, leaving his lips shiny and wet as he moved them between her legs. 

She shuddered at the first touch of him, warm and familiar, and so distinctly Bucky. “Bucky-” she moaned, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“‘M right here, doll.” He kissed along her jaw, working her open with his slow hands.

She panted, dragging her fingers down his stomach to where he was aching. He shuddered, his head dropping to her shoulder as she wrapped her fingers around him. “So good, Bucky…” she whispered.

He groaned into her neck, pulling his hands from between her legs. His tongue swept across her throat. He pulled back. 

He looked so pretty above her, cheeks flushed, lips wet, hair a mess. And those eyes. Oh those eyes.

“Let me make you feel good, pretty.” He brushed his thumb across her lips. She nodded, kissing his thumbprint. A lopsided grin sparked his expression as he dove down to kiss her. 

She giggled against him, raising her knees around his hips. 

His hand pushed between them, aligning himself. She smiled into his kiss, their foreheads pressed together.

“I love you,” he choked, rolling his hips into her. His hand found hers, fingers locking together.

She gasped, her eyes fluttering as she curled a hand in his hair. She hiccupped, blinking through tears as she rocked her hips against him. “I love you too.”

“You’re enlisting?” The words had reality setting in on her all too quickly. Like a bucket of ice water thrown over her head. The war had been raging on for a long time, taking its toll on the world and her daily life. 

She’d been called to the workforce, given an option of ways she could support her country as the men were called to battle. She’d taken her pick of chasing after something she’d long given up. She worked with other women, building engines for fighter planes and military vehicles. It was hard work, but she felt passion growing in her every time she went to work. 

It was hard to ignore the war, doing what she did, but she did her best. If she thought about it for too long, the anxiety would set in. The past grief of losing her father to the military, the fear for the future, and now, the dread of what would become of her favorite person alive.

Bucky nodded, taking his hands in hers. “I’ve already applied-”

“And you didn’t tell me first?” She wanted to pull back, hurt clear on her face.

“I’m sorry-” he stepped closer, rubbing his thumb over her knuckle. “I just- I didn’t want you to talk me out of it.”

“I-” she stopped herself, lowering her gaze to the floor between them. She couldn’t deny that she would have begged him not to. She nodded slowly. “When?”

“Not for a while, I need to train first. But after that, they’ll be shipping me off immediately, I assume.” 

She swore at herself internally for the tears that burned behind her eyes. Why was she being so dramatic? This didn’t have to mean forever. It didn’t have to mean the end.

“Sweetheart, look at me, please.” He begged, his warm hand cupping her cheek. She slowly lifted her gaze to his. His expression softened, a sigh leaving his lips. “It’s gonna be okay, sugar.” He whispered, pulling her into a hug. “I’ll be okay. I’m good when I listen, even better when I try. I’ll be okay.”

She buried her face in his chest, clutching at his back. She nodded slowly. “Will you write to me?”

“Every damn day,” he whispered into her hair.

“Promise you’ll be careful?”

He nodded. “Of course, there’s no way I’m staying away for longer than I have to. Not when I have you waiting on me.”

Her stomach flipped at his direct words. She blinked away the tears in her eyes and nuzzled closer to his chest. She took a moment to listen to the sound of his chest rising and falling with breath. He was alive, and he would stay that way. He had to. “Does Steve know?”

He nodded. “He won’t quit trying to enlist with me.”

She pulled back, her hands on his waist. “He won’t give up, you know.” She lifted a brow. “That man has the heart of a lion.”

Bucky smiled, his own chest swelling with affection for the woman who loved his best friend with such intensity. “I know, but there’s other ways to help.”

“I could say the same thing to you.” She poked his chest. He caught her hand, his smile softening. 

“Too late.”

“Clearly.”

The train station smelled of smoke and oil.

Children cried from the sidelines, clinging to their fathers as they said goodbye. Carts of luggage rolled past. Brothers and friends cheered as they waved to each other, boarding the train.

She couldn't focus on any of it.

Bucky's lips pressed against hers, bruising and warm. His strong hands pressed against her lower back, curled in her hair. She trembled in his arms, hair nails biting into the green of his uniform.

He pulled back, his forehead resting against hers. His breath trembled against her skin.

"I'll be seeing you," she whispered, caressing his jaw.

He nodded against her, his lips twitching up. "I'll be back before you know it."

"You better." She huffed.

When he slipped from her fingers, moving towards the train as soldiers called, announcing final boarding, she felt her heart go with him. She tried not to cry. She didn't want to cry. She wanted him to remember her smiling.

He was only leaving for training. This didn't mean forever. But it felt like it.

He watched her from the window. He shoved it open and stuck his head out. "I mean it doll, I'm coming back for you." He shouted, a toothy grin flashing.

She shook her head at him, holding back a teary laugh. She stumbled forward, reaching up to catch his hand. "Sergeant Barnes, you better write me every damn day."

She wished she could reach him further. She wished she could pull him back into her arms.

He huffed, squeezing her fingers. The train blared, signaling its soon departure. He looked up to the cop patrolling the station. "Hey man, help me out here?" He shouted.

She glanced back, the large officer approaching her with a huff. She could guess he'd been doing this all day. She yelped as he lifted her from beneath the arms and boosted her up to the window.

Bucky leaned out further, his palms sliding along her jaw. He captured her lips in a desperate kiss, a desperate goodbye. She swallowed a choked whimper, her fingers curling in his hair.

"I love you, baby." He whispered against her lips.

She nodded, blinking away tears. "I love you too."

She wiped the back of her hand against the scarf in her hair, blue paint making her fingers sticky. The air smelled of oil and metal, the sounds of drills and shifting propellers causing a ruckus of noise.

She was slow and precise as she painted out the American insignia along the wing of a plane in the works. 

“Have you taken a break yet, ma’am?” A familiar voice called to her from behind. She nearly dropped her brush when she saw him. 

“What are you doing here?” She laughed, setting the paint can on the floor. She jogged up to him, wrapping him in a quick hug as he lifted her off the ground. 

“What, I can’t come visit my best girl?” He grinned, setting her back on the ground.

She swatted his arm, pulling back to look at him clearly. He looked just the same, tall, charming, and handsome. She last saw him three months ago, when he received his first leave to visit home since he started training. “No, you can’t, not unless-” her smile dropped. 

His expression turned shy and guilty. 

“You’ve finished your training?”

He nodded, his warm hands rubbing gentle circles on her waist. “Came here straight away. I wanted to see you.” 

She cupped his face, cradling him in her touch. “So you’re leaving then? Do you know where?”

“They’re shipping me off to Europe in two days time.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Wait here,” she pulled back.

He laughed in shock. “Where are you going?”

“To ask if I can leave early. You’re not leaving until you give me a dance first.”

.

Rain hailed down from the sky with vengeance, like God was warning her of future hardships. She peaked through her curtains, her stomach twisting. “I guess we aren’t going out tonight, are we?” She muttered, glancing back at Bucky, where he stood in her living room. 

The man was sifting through her records, picking one out. “That doesn’t have to change anything.”

She watched as he set the record on her record player. The music clicked on, filling the small apartment with warmth. He held his hand out to her expectantly. “Come here.”

She softened at the sight of him, gentle and sweet. She took his hand and allowed him to lead them into a slow sway. She rested her cheek against his chest, her eyes sliding closed. He hummed softly, his fingers tapping against her waist. 

She wanted them to stay in that moment forever, suspended in intimacy. She didn’t care what it looked like to other people, a man and woman, unmarried, dancing in her apartment. She didn’t care that she was different, or that he was different. She didn’t care that he had to leave, and that there was a war raging on outside.

 She just wanted to be with him.

“Do you remember when I helped you move?” His voice broke the soft silence, melting together with the music. She nodded into his chest.

“How could I not? The way you came crashing into everything.” She chuckled softly. 

“You make me sound like some rambunctious kid.” He huffed.

“Oh, well that's because you are.” She giggled.

“I beg to differ,” he denied.

“Oh really? You’re all grown up now then, I guess?”

“Mhm, big and strong.” He smiled down at her, that familiar charm oozing from his very being.

“Sergeant Barnes,” she said the title, trying to get comfortable with the word. “Very grown indeed.” It felt bitter sweet on her tongue. 

He softened, rubbing his hand down her back as they swayed. “I’ll be okay.” He whispered. 

She nodded, sliding her arms around his neck. “Promise you won’t change?”

He shrugged cheekily, “maybe, who knows? I might come back with a mustache and a German accent.” He teased.

She rolled her eyes at him. “I’d leave you high and dry,” she huffed.

“No you wouldn’t.”

“No,” she sighed, “I wouldn’t.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, letting the music fill the loaded silence between them. He brushed his thumb along her cheekbone, and she realized his hands felt rougher. Calloused from hard training. 

“Promise you’ll still love me?”

“There’s nothing in the world that could change that, doll.” He told her, his blue eyes sharp in the warm lamp light of her living room. “Nothing.”

“Promise you’ll come back to me?”

“I promise.”

Dear Y/n,

We have made it safely to Italy. It’s quite beautiful here, I think you would like it. I already feel my chest aching when I think of you. I miss you dearly. When I return home, I will take you to a nice Italian restaurant and tell you about all the words I’ve learned here. 

Yours,

J. Bucky Barnes

★

Dear Y/n, 

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking of our future, and honey I quite like it. I can picture nights in your arms, lulled to sleep under the melody of your voice. Until then, I’ll dream of you, and tell stories of your eccentric soul. The boys shame me for not bringing a pair of your pantyhose with me, I’ll have to remember it for later. 

Yours,

J. Bucky Barnes

★

Dear Y/n, 

I’d give my left arm to be with you right now. I guess I’m really in love with you doll, in fact beyond the guessing stage, it’s a fact. I love you very very much, darling, and will be the happiest guy in the country when you are Mrs. Barnes. I miss you every day. 

Yours,

J. Bucky Barnes

She had to make a choice. Blood, or metal. It wasn’t something she thought she’d have to weigh when she was a child, but it was something she was now faced with. 

Since Bucky’s deployment, she spent her time working hard on the machines she was tasked with repairing and manufacturing. She was taking Red Cross training on her weekends, as recommended by the Sergeants running her warehouse. Almost all the women were. 

It meant a constant stick of needles in her arms, and a constant stench of blood. There were days when she was run out of the warehouse, ordered to pursue her duties as a healer of sorts. 

She didn’t much enjoy it.

In fact, she detested it. Having to be faced with the reality of how violent this war was just made her sick. It made her afraid. It made her dread each letter she received, fearing one would read condolences about her long time lover. 

“Steve?” The woman gaped at the hulking form sitting at the bar. “It really… geez.”

The blonde turned around, a bright smile on his face as he saw the girl. “Hi,” his voice was still soft and timid, a far contrast from his new body. He wrapped her in a quick hug before gesturing for her to join him.

“I mean, look at you!” She laughed, feeling meek under his broad form. “Did it hurt?” She muttered, poking him in the arm. 

“A bit.” He chuckled. 

“Shouldn’t you have stretch marks, or something? I’d think your skin would tear open around all… that.” She gestured at him. The bartender came over and took her order. She had a martini, extra olives. 

He bit back a snicker. “I thought so too- but I guess not. Most of the technical talk went right over my head.” He took a swig from his cup.

She bit into an olive once her glass was set before her. “It’s quite impressive.” She nodded. She took a moment to really take him in, and all the things that had changed in just a few months. He still had that boyish smile, his top lip disappearing against his teeth. He had that soft gaze, still nervous to look people in the eyes. But he was different. 

Something beyond the physical.

He was changed by what had happened to him, by what he was capable of. “How are you?” She muttered, glancing down at her drink. She stirred the clear liquid with her toothpick, her lip tucked between her teeth as she thought of all that changed. 

“I don’t know.” He admitted. “It all feels-” he let out a heavy sigh. “I should be out there. With him.”

She nodded, feeling that bittersweet roll of her stomach every time she thought of him. It had only been a few months, but it felt like eternity. They went from seeing eachother once a week, holding each other in their arms, to a letter every now and then. 

“How do you think he’s doing?” 

He huffed, his lips curling in a laugh. “I think he’s doing just fine. He’s too stubborn to die.”

She snickered, sipping on her drink. “Now that I can agree.”

.

“Oh come on! You have to ask her out, Steve!” She gasped, slapping at her friend's shoulder. 

He shook his head, his cheeks flushed pink. “We’re in the middle of war. She’s- she’s busy. I barely even see her now, with the tour and all.”

“Oh yes, the tour.” She waved her hand. “But like you said, we’re in the middle of a war. There's no time to wait around.” She grinned over the lip of her glass.

He rolled his eyes at the girl. “You are one to talk, hon.��� He squinted at her. “Everyone around us is running to the chapel in the wake of battle. Why aren’t you?” He raised a brow at her. 

She blinked at him, her cheeks flushing red. “Steve!” She laughed nervously. “You can’t exactly head to the chapel alone.”

“You know what I’m talking about. Why didn’t you two do it? Before he left?”

She felt stiff, her stomach twisting. She stared at the chipped wood of the bar. “I don’t know, really.” She muttered, her chest feeling sore. “I do wish-” she huffed, slapping a hand over her eyes. “We wanted to wait, you see? I knew he wanted to enlist, and he knew how hard it would be. We wanted to wait until he was home for good.” 

Thinking back on it now, she wished she would have dragged him to the chapel years ago. She wished she would have slipped a ring on his finger and planted a kiss on those pink lips long ago.

“Don’t wait, Steve. Just don’t.”

She, much to her own shock, was deployed. Not as a soldier, but as a medic and mechanic. The Red Cross was tasked with touring Europe, giving blood and aid wherever they could. She didn’t think she would be asked, but with her experience building and repairing engines, they decided she would be a rather nice asset. 

She wrote to Bucky, informing him of her shocking travels, hoping to hear from him before she left. The sad fact was that she hadn’t heard from him in weeks. The reality of that set her skin on fire, but she always took a moment to remind herself that no news is good news. An empty mailbox also meant there wasn’t a condolence letter waiting on her.

She wanted to write to Steve, but he was also on tour. Traveling the country- and even Europe- to uplift the spirits of the masses. So with only a few dear goodbyes to loved ones still back home, she set off to Europe. 

After only a few days, she found herself in Azzano Italy. She felt excitement buzzing in her veins at the thought of being in the same place as Bucky again. 

He took a piece of her heart with him when he left, and it now ached to seal that hole. 

Much to her dismay, the 107th infantry regiment wasn’t likely to just be sitting back at the base. They were gone, fighting a war that seemed impossible to end. 

She thought she would feel better, being so close- knowing he could return any day. But she was so deeply wrong. She spent her days in a stained tent, staunching wounds with her bare hands, begging death not to take another good man. 

She was faced with the most raw reality of the war. And suddenly she dreaded seeing Bucky. She feared seeing his beaten face be dragged onto a table before her, bleeding and dying right before her eyes. 

In her moments of reprieve, she found herself growing close with the infamous Peggy Carter. She was the only woman in the base that had a position of power. She held herself with a steady confidence, unafraid to put a doubtful man in their place. She was so deeply kind to the woman, though. Which she was beyond grateful for.

She always made sure to bite back her grin whenever Peggy asked about Steve. She wished she could scold the boy for not writing to the woman sooner. She always said as much.

Everything was wrong.

Everything was wet, soaked in mud, and rain, and blood.

Body after body was dragged into her tent. The screams of men pierced her ears, rattling in her bones. 

One, two, seven, eighteen, twenty nine, the numbers kept growing- but not enough. 

Not enough.

She searched the faces desperately, her fingers stained with the blood of dozens as she sifted through bodies. 

He wasn’t there. 

He wasn’t with them.

He wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t alive.

He was just gone.

She collapsed into soft mud and threw up everything in her stomach. 

She could hear the women singing from her tent at the center of the base. She couldn’t bring herself to move from her cot. Was it Steve? She wondered, she wished, she prayed. But she just couldn’t move. Her body felt devoid of life. 

It had been days. 

It had been an eternity since news came of the ambush. 

It had been a lifetime since she saw him. 

She was on the verge of being shipped home, the nerves and grief weighing her down so heavily she could barely focus. She spent every waking moment on her feet, tending to the dying. And when she wasn’t doing that, she was doing everything she could not to get sick- sobbing so heavily that her throat closed around dry heaves. 

She searched for his face everywhere she looked. 

He was never there.

“Y/n?” The familiar voice had the woman stumbling on her feet, blood soaked hands wiping hair from her face. 

“Steve.” She gaped at the man, her eyes welling up with tears. “Oh, Stevie,” she whimpered, falling into him. “Steve, he-”

“I know, I know.” He whispered, rubbing a fast hand along her back. “But listen, I’m going to find him, okay? I’m going after the 107th.”

The words felt like a fantasy to her ears. Like a far fetched dream- one only Steve could cook up. She looked up at him, her brows knit together deeply. “But-”

“I’m going.” His voice was quick and hard, like he was afraid she may try to stop him. “I have to- I-I have to.”

“You have to,” she whispered, clutching the dark green coat he wore. “You- I have to know.” She tried to steady the shake in her voice. “I can’t take not knowing.” Looking to the side, she wiped her cheek on her shoulder. “I need to- I need to know…”

“I’m leaving tonight,” he set a familiar hand on her shoulder. “Be safe, okay?”

She smiled wryly up at the large man. “Back at you.”

The sounds of men cheering from afar broke the silent prayer the woman was whispering over her cot. Her whole body went rigid, her blood ran cold. 

They were back.

She nearly tripped over the opening of her tent as she scrambled outside. They had been gone two days at most, but it felt like an eternity. It felt like her own world was slowly crumbling around her. Like the truth was slowly chasing her down. 

A truth she couldn’t bear.

A truth so sick, so deeply wretched, it might destroy her. 

A truth she was coming to slowly accept.

But then she saw him.

Standing there, beside a man dressed in the flag of freedom, was the love of her life. 

Dirty, bruised, beaten and bloody, but alive. 

Alive.

Her feet carried her the rest of the way, her mind taking time to catch up. His name left her lips in a cry, desperate for this to be real. Sharp blue eyes met hers, the set of his jaw loosening.

A sob left her throat as she threw herself at him- a rifle jabbing into her chest between them. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, pulling him so close he was almost one with her. 

The rifle fell at their feet. 

Arms wrapped tightly around her waist, lifting her feet from the mud. She sobbed freely into his collar, her fingers curling in his hair. He whispered into her shoulder, his voice ragged and tired. 

He repeated her name, chanting it like a prayer. 

“You’re here- you’re here…” 

She only noticed it then, but he was trembling. He swayed on his feet, holding her firm to his body. The sickening thought of what he may have endured crossed her mind. “You’re alive-” She cried, tears mixing with the sweat on his neck. 

The men around the couple whooped and hollered, cheering for a very singular type of victory. A very foreign one. One of love.

He lowered her slightly to stand on her own, his body slumping against hers; he longed desperately to fall into her, to find peace in her arms. She petted his hair, pressing soft kisses to his temple. “You’re okay…you’re okay…”

The train ride to England was spent in quiet whispers and gentle bandaging. The woman helped her wounded soldier into a cabin, helping him ease onto his seat. The adrenaline rush that had kept him running for so long was slowly fizzing out, and it was wearing on him.

She knelt before him, a medics bag at her side. 

Finally alone, she held his face in her hands, her thumb gently caressing his bruised cheek. His bruising looked peculiar to her eye, oddly but specifically shaped. She traced the purple lines. 

“I thought…” She swallowed, her voice cracking in the silence. He looked up at her through his lashes, his posture hunched. “I thought I lost you.”

He pressed into her touch, his palm covering hers. “I know,” he was weak, tired, and in pain, but he relished this moment with her. “I thought I was dead…”

Her heart ached in her chest, ideas of what he endured torturing her. “What…What happened?” She traced her knuckles along the soft part of his cheek. 

He shook his head slowly, shivering as memories flashed behind his eyelids. “I don’t know.” He started, leaning closer to her. “I was out of it- they gave me something. It felt like fire in my veins.” He swallowed, staring down at his hands in his lap. She realized he was afraid of what they’d done. Maybe it was poison. Maybe something else.

She nodded, gently petting his face. “We’ll fix it. Whatever it is, we’ll fix it.”

He glanced up at her through his lashes, his lip bitten between his teeth. He returned her soft nod, turning to press his lips to her palm.

She leaned up on her knees to pull him into a soft hug, rubbing her hand down his back. He rested against her shoulder. 

She watched the world pass by outside the window, pine trees wheezing by in a flurry of green. 

“You joined the Red Cross.” He muttered against her shoulder, his voice soft. 

“Mhm,” she hummed, raking her nails up his neck. “Didn’t have much of a choice at first. But I’m so glad I did,” she pressed her lips to his hair. 

He pulled back, cupping her face in his large palms. “I love you so much,” he whispered, pressing soft kisses to her lips. She let out a shaky breath, pressing closer. In the back of her mind, she could barely remember the last time they really kissed. He was always so gentle with her. She loved that about him.

But this moment, this kiss, it wasn’t even really about the act. It was about intimacy. The closeness. The feeling of being real under each other's touch. It was about feeling his breath against her face, about feeling the warmth of his tongue. It was about knowing he’s alive, he’s okay, and he’s with her.

She pulled back, her forehead resting against his. “I love you so much.”

“You’re going back?” The lighthearted air between the group fizzled away, leaving a trail of awkwardness in its wake. She stared at the group of men, her heart rate picking up steadily.

 She stood quickly, rattling the table, and stumbled away. 

She heard Steve call after them as Bucky followed her. “Y/n,” Bucky chased her, catching her wrist once they were alone. 

She spun back to face him, slapping her hands against his chest. “How could you not tell me?” She tried to keep her voice steady.

“I-”

“I mean- how could you? Why would you go back? After everything Steve did to get you back? After what happened- after what you went through?” She interrupted, her shaking hands tangling in her hair. “Why, Bucky, why?”

He gently took her wrists, leaning down to catch her eyes. “Hey, look at me- hey,” his voice lowered, softening around the edges. “That's why I have to do it, baby. I can’t-” he gulped. “I can’t let them do it alone. I can’t let Steve do this alone.”

She blinked through the tears gathering in her eyes, trying desperately to ignore the sickness swirling in her gut. “I can’t do that again, Bucky.”

“I know-”

“We-” she gasped, tilting her head back, trying to keep the tears at bay. “We were supposed to get married.”

He gently took her face in hand, his brows knit together. “We will.” He promised. “There isn’t a thing in this life that could stop me from making you mine.”

“Except death,” she whispered, leaning into his thumb as it swept away her tears. 

“I’ll have Steve this time, okay? I’ll have a super soldier having my back, sweetheart.” He smiled. “I’m coming home.”

She wanted to believe him. She wanted to have faith in him and his men, in Steve. But she felt this gnawing, gut wrenching feeling that if she let him go, he would never come back. But she also knew, there was no stopping the thick headed man. Not when Steve was involved.

“I can’t stop you,” she accepted. “I know I can’t.” He watched her sadly, silent- knowing he wouldn’t deny it. “I chose a man who would never back down, didn’t I? It’s all my fault.” She huffed.

He smiled gently, wrapping her in his arms. “All your fault.”

“What?”

The words- short and quiet, whispered, like they were too awful to say- stuck into her skin like needles. 

“He-” Peggy cleared her throat, voice raw and eyes red. “They didn’t make it.”

Slow, like time had stopped just to elongate that moment, she felt her heart clench in her chest. 

Something cold and dark swirled in her veins, numbing her body. “They didn't-” Her voice broke, her chest restricting. She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t. 

It was wrong. 

It was all wrong. None of this could be real, it just couldn’t.

“It was reported that he- he took Captain Roger’s shield and fired at the enemy. He was protecting Rogers.” Peggy’s expression was cold, like she too was trying not to cry. “The side of the train was blown open. Barnes- he just…”

“Don't-” that name. Oh god, his name. 

It couldn’t be real. It wasn’t. It just wasn’t. 

Everything in her swayed, her breath coming in quick pants as she tried to steady herself. “He-” Tears burned behind her eyes, coming too quick to blink away. She couldn’t breathe. 

She couldn’t think.

He was gone.

She pressed her hand to her chest, hard and rough, hitting the center of her breasts. She was shaking, moving in denial. She needed to breathe, she needed to stop the ache- the tight twisting and twisting of her lungs and heart. 

It was all wrong

She was sobbing now, wet streaks burning cold against her heated skin. She couldn’t feel anything as her body hit the floor. Not the cold concrete. Not the torn skin of her knees. Not the concerned touch of Peggy.

Nothing but the all consuming grief that suffocated her.

A/N: Whew! I put it all in one for this one. This is one of my very favorite works I've ever done! I have a soft place in my heart for 1940s Bucky. Also yes I do have a part 2 where she ends up in the future and he sees her again and its sad as fuck (As I do)

[antianakin]

I saw someone pointing out that Cassian's behavior with the woman at the Sienar testing facility is terrible opsec for someone who's supposed to be as good of a spy as he is, and they're not wrong, but I do think it helps showcase a different aspect of Cassian's character that I really love which is how INSPIRING Cassian is to other people.

One of the most famous quotes from Rogue One is "rebellions are built on hope," which is a statement that really pushes Jyn to become more of a hero later. It's a sentiment she literally repeats to the rest of the Rebel council when trying to convince them to make on last stand. Other people already pointed out the obvious parallel between his statement to the scientist at the facility about how she's "coming home to herself" and the moment when he says "Welcome home" to Jyn in Rogue One, as well.

And this is a part of his character we see in the first season of Andor, as well. We see him talking to the rebels on Aldhani about how he doesn't let his fear cause him to lose his nerve and turn on the rest of his team. We see him convince Kino Loy to rebel against the prison system and Kino literally parrots Cassian's words to inspire others the same way Jyn does in Rogue One. Cassian has a way of connecting with people and inspiring them and helping them see the rebellion and the sacrifices they are making in a way no one else can. Cassian chooses to look at his life and his choices in a very specific way and that perspective brings a lot of hope to a lot of people who might be more on the fence about letting go of their own fears and joining the fight.

So sure, it's not the greatest opsec in the world, but it DOES help that woman regain her confidence and stay committed to this cause she's chosen so that, even if she dies tonight, she doesn't regret what she's done. And that's SUCH a cool theme to keep for Cassian's character and I love that they're continuing to show us those kinds of moments with him.

[mswyrr]

The canon tragic ending of Snowbaird isn't a depiction of "What if Peeta betrayed himself and his true love and had to live without Katniss?" it's a depiction of "What if Katniss betrayed herself and her true love and had to live without Peeta?"

People want to make the parallels restricted by gender, boy compared to boy and girl to girl, but Everlark is actually a gender reversal of Snowbaird -- Katniss is the traumatized survivor who is tempted by narrowing the world down to necessity (and shutting off her own aliveness because it hurts and it's a risk to survival) and Peeta is the philosophical artist whose very presence and being invites her to open up and allow herself to feel alive inside, to take the risk of that, instead of merely surviving.

Their conversation before their first Games really drives this home:

"Who cares?" indeed. And "While I've been ruminating on the availability of trees, Peeta has been struggling with how to maintain his identity. His purity of self" is very reminiscent of conversations Lucy Gray and Coriolanus have where she's the poet, the philosopher articulating the carefully thought through inner life of the soul, and he's the person of action and pragmatism whose default in the face of exploring his own soul is often "Who cares?" Does that put food on the table? Will it keep us alive?

These qualities are meant to be in union -- they're meant to save each other. People can't actually lead a full life without developing both things (their soul and feelings and capacity for reflection and their capacity to act and be pragmatic in the world to physically survive) and being in cooperative union with others who have strengths where their weaknesses are.

Katniss and Peeta start off their first Games each seeing something different as most important -- the thing their personalities tend to make them focus on -- and it is only in their cooperative union that they are able to set the toppling of the entire tyranny in motion. Their cooperative union heals what the ruin of Lucy Gray and Coriolanus' similarly potentially fruitful union (life turned to death; food to poison) broke in the world.

Jungian concepts of the anima/animus can be gender essentialist--including requiring that someone's personality tendencies "match" their gender or else it's pathologized, which is so gross and inaccurate and bothers me as a queer woman deeply-- but if we think of these as natural components of all people that naturally vary regardless of someone's gender and need to be in balance, then -

Peeta is Katniss' anima--her dandelion in the spring, her pearl, her sunset orange gentleness that inspires her soul to come out from hiding, to reflect and feel-- in the same way Lucy Gray is Coriolanus' anima, whose music and her very being and her prioritizing of inner truth and reflective philosophy has the same effect on him. They become more themselves with their true love. The parts of themselves that hide, that they've drained energy away from in order to focus on survival, come to life.

And they are their beloveds' animus -- which is why Coriolanus goes from being a protective active agent of their survival when in a better place with Lucy Gray to becoming Bluebeard, the (attempted?) wife killer, in the worst case scenario. "[B]oth the demon and the savior are two aspects of the same inner power [of the animus]" (Marie-Louise Von Franz, Archetypal Dimensions of the Psyche, Page 282) and:

"Many myths and fairy tales tell of a prince, who has been turned into an animal or a monster by sorcery, being saved by a woman. This is a symbolic representation of the development of the animus toward consciousness." ~Marie-Louise Von Franz, Archetypal Dimensions of the Psyche, Page 281

Coriolanus devolves away from consciousness rather than evolving into a productive and balanced union -- he's a prince toward Lucy Gray early on in their relationship, saving and protecting and cherishing her, who becomes a beast rather than a beast who becomes a prince. (If he'd had a journey into being "cursed" by Gaul and becoming a beast BEFORE they met they could have had a happy ending where she's the heroine in a romance with her animus -- which is basically the majority of what the most beloved m/f romances are under the hood btw).

Oh and all of this is why Peeta is not and never was Katniss' "moral instructor"!! -- yes, instead of survival, his priority is inner reflection and truth. But he is not activating anything within her that wasn't already there, just in hiding and waiting to feel invited to come out and unfurl and live. She drained energy away from those parts of herself because (like Coriolanus) she was literally starving and had to put everything she was into surviving if she and those she loved were going to physically live. She does seem to be a naturally more pragmatic person -- but a healthy pragmatic person allows themselves more than mere survival. She's not choosing to be sermonized at by a "moral superior" -- she's choosing to embark on exploring and enriching her own inner life in partnership with someone who is strong in areas where she has been weak -- and when Coriolanus let himself embrace the peace and reflection that Lucy Gray seeks he wasn't finding anything there that wasn't a natural part of him too.

And both couples basically can represent (this is back to Jungian ideas) an individual human's inner psyche -- in chaos and ruin or in balance. Each of us has parts of ourselves that are in hiding and parts that dominate. And we all need to walk a path toward balance with those things. So, by splintering apart one union like that, Collins is doing something psychological and even mythological -- symbolically splintering the parts of a healthy self, splintering a balanced marriage union, and dividing core forces in the world that could be productive and fruitful against each other. So - the land becomes cursed. It all turns to poison because these forces aren't in balance. And then she shows the liberatory power of those forces, through Katniss and Peeta, fighting to be in loving union despite everything the curse and sickness of the land and the symbolically dead "Fisher King" president throws at them.

[rosetyler42]

Ericka: It's more...she used to be a racist/speciesist monster hunter who thought monsters were evil and dangerous animals. An accomplice to genocide and 5 time attempted murderess. She still carries the guilt from all of that and has fears of relapse. She's seen what those views can lead to and DOES NOT want to make those mistakes again, but she was brought up with these views for DECADES. It was all she knew once, amd changing that drastically isn't EASY. And other people thinking she's still evil because of these old beliefs doesn't help. It's not really self HATE, though. It's more...she knows she has a dark side and tries to deal with that, and also uses it to try not to judge others, no matter what they've done. Especially if they didn't do WORSE than she did. I imagine there's still some psychological hammers and high standards from growing up under Van Helsing too. That said, she's very good at hiding all this under an air of upbeat positivity. So it's hard to tell how much translates to real self hate.

Lucy: No, not at all. Biggest thing is not being perfect like Mavis is and taking more after her mom's wild and crazy side and more annoying big brother Johnny. But she's actually pretty happy with herself.

Simon: Perhaps a little. It's more he feels he can't quite measure up to the rest of his family being the humany one AND a shy timid guy. Though he doesn't have NEAR the trauma Dennis did.

Alice: Also complicated, though perhaps a bit closer to hate. She doesn't really like Susie much due to Susie having traumatized her with her vivisections during their quest for perfection. Or for hurting Bendy and the others. She worries she may be nothing more than a dangerous monster and killer after 30 years of being inside Twisted Alice. She still has body image issues, still is a bit of a perfectionist. Still into gorey things. Still sensitive to being called an ino blob. But she's much happier with herself as Alice than she was as Susie. Even sharpens her horns and polishes her halo. And her amd Susie do still share a body, and Susie DOES care about her. She's not totally EVIL, Mostly damaged, hurt, and insane with ink corruption, which Alice understands.

Audrey: It's complicated. I'd say hers is mostly existential problems and body image issues rather than hate. Basically, she was Joey Drew's daughter born from the ink machine despite thinking she was fully human. And...welp, all that is alot to deal with. And then there was all the things she had to do to survive the Cycle and her whole deal with Wilson. Probably one of her biggest regrets was trusting Wilson at all since he killed her once and tried to kill her again. She's a young girl who's been through ALOT of horrors. However, she's also resolved to make things better for her friends in the Cycle and freed Bendy.

@lovelylivelyv 's Jack Nephalem: I'd say it's complicated. On one hand he's a cartoon ink monster made from demonic ink and capable of just as much horror and violence as Twisted Alice or the Ink Demon if he ever just went apeshit. On the other, he's a good guy who just wants to have fun and make sure his family is safe and happy. One of the most sane creatures in the Cycle aside from Henry, Allison, Tom, Porter, Heidi, and Audrey. He's also quite optimistic, fiercely loyal, and hopeful. He's not quite as broken down by the Cycle as some of the other characters. He still has that drive to cheer people up and make them laugh that most toons do, believing joy and laughter are powerful things...sometimes the only weapon you have in life. He knows you're always free to choose who you want to be. Which is kinda fitting for a character who's a mix of angelic and demonic natures.

Bill: I'd argue yes. He refers to himself as a monster and keeps trying to deny his problems. "Says he's happy, he's a liar" as I think the Axolotl said once. He clearly still lives with the trauma of the Euclidian massacre. Some of the codes in the Book of Bill and the website even say he's still haunted by the ghosts of his family. He denies this, saying he liberated his home dimension. He sees himself as a patron saint, a god of the outcast and oppressed. He pretends nothing matters and that he's always happy and partying. He blames others for his own issues. But he definitely secretly DOES hate himself.

Ford: Ah, now HERE'S an interesting one. "Ego of a king, insecurity of a circus freak" as Bill says. (And he'd know.) I'd say probably, on some level. Ford's a victim of abuse from both Filbrick's "Golden Child" favoritism and Bill's manipulation. Not to mention the teasing his unusual fingers brought him. I don't think you can get out of all that WITHOUT hating yourself on some level. Ford blames himself for ALOT of things: Stan getting kicked out, being tricked by Bill, Fidds' trauma and subsequent loss of sanity. Stan sacrificing himself AND the kids being put in danger BY Bill. His biggest strength and pride is his intellect and talent for science and he has a habit of thinking he has to do everything himself. However, having true family and friends, and strong (albiet skewed) morals, he's better off than Bill. But yeah, I imagine it's hard to come out of all he's been through without SOME baggage.

Fidds: Less than either Ford or Bill. I think his big thing is I think part of him might feel guilty for running away and trying to forget his problems rather than sticking by Ford and trying harder to get him away from Bill. Especially after Ford saved him so many times. Possibly also inflicting the town with his own memory gun for so long since he now realizes there's bad side effects to it. How much it messed with his own mind. But in general, he seems far better able to bounce back from his traumas and mistakes than Ford or Bill. As he says, "Maybe I messed up in the past. But now that I've seen what happened, I can begin to put myself back together again." He's far more optimistic and hopeful than Bill or Ford seem to be, which helps him. And very forgiving, too.

Mabel: Probably the least of the group. The biggest thing is her self centeredness and feeling responsible for Weirdmaggedon. I don't think she's a bad person at all: She was a child of divorce and trusted someone she thought was a friend. But she definitely feels responsible for Weirdmaggedon and perhaps Dipper blames her for it as well (Considering the "Mabel's fault" bit) She DESPERATELY wants to be seen as a good person since that's who she sees herself as. ("If I'm not a good person, who am I?") Even though she's kind of oblivious to how her choices affect others. (Kinda like Ford.) I don't think it nessecarily crosses over into self HATE. Mabel's a bit too aggressively positive for that. But even she admits she needs to work on herself.

Shego: Not really. I do think she has insecurities she covers up with her Tsundere solid tephlon personality. I do think she has regrets and sees herself as being this big bad evil villainess. But in general she's actually one of the most well adjusted characters in the show and rarely gets flapped by anything.

Meteora: ....In canon I don't think she'd remember enough to hate herself for what she did as Heinous. Though I imagine being half monster would cause some issues there. As Heinous...I imagine eventually she would have to deal with the guilt of her rampage through Mewni. Even with her feeling justified by having her throne and family taken from her. Not to mention there's everything she went through being raised by St. Olga. She does learn to love her more monstrous features and magic but...yeah, I think she'd have some issues to get over now that she's in a better position.

Coraline: Possibly on SOME level. Like Ford and Mabel she probably blames herself for being tricked by the Beldam. Possibly how she treated Wybie and the cat initially. However, she was also able to defeat the Beldam using her own cunning and free her parents and the ghost children, which is a major confidence booster for an 11 year old. She also wasn't totally BLINDLY trusting. She clearly knew something was off. I doubt she blames herself on the level Ford and Mabel do. Especially after learning she's not the first kid to be tricked by her.

Bloo: Maybe on some level considering he's quick to put himself down in the cookie episode. He clearly has a big ego seeing himself as the best imaginary friend ever but I think alot of that is bluster. He clearly worries about being disposable and worthless as seen in Cucoo for Coco Cards and Runaway Bride. @lovelylivelyv has more analysis on this than me. But yeah, I think everyone seeing you as nothing more than some troublemaking self centered jerk face definitely gets to him as much as he tries to hide it. Heck, there's a whole ep where he wants to go live in a retirement home because he feels bossed around and unappreciated at Fosters. Even to the point of turning on Mac when he tries to talk him into leaving. Now, part of this could have been brainwashing. But he clearly sees the group home where everyone is cared for as a paradise.

Caine: I think his is more an identity crisis of "If I'm not good at taking care of people, who am I?" Than self hatred.

Pomni: At the least she has worries about being abstracted and forgotten about. I'm not really sure it's self hatred exactly, but she definitely has some existential problems and whether or not the others care about her. However, there are others who I'd say has more issues with self hatred than Pomni: Mainly Zooble and Gangle. Gangle clearly has some Bipolar/depression things going on to the point of possible near abstraction if it weren't for Pomni and Zooble clearly has some body dysmorphia. It's also been said Jax is a jerk because of issues too, and Ragatha hides alot under her sweet friendly looking out for everyone persona.

Every poll on this blog is about fictional characters only. This request was sent to us and we made a poll in response to it. Send any Blorbo-related question you want to our inbox and we’ll make a poll on which people can vote with their own Blorbos in minds

[wynnerwynner]

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇

avengers au!joaquin torres x female!toxikensis!reader

synopsis: y/n and joaquin have to keep their relationship hidden due to the avenger’s unspoken rule. meanwhile, joaquin shows y/n she is more than her trauma.

request: yes

warnings: hints at murder, trust issues, happy ending

wc: 3.2k

a/n: i never said i was good at endings y'all 😫. also if anyone has any tips for tmj pain let me know bc im bouta go ape shit

There was no written rule for “no sexual relations among teammates”, however, it was heavily implied. After Natasha and Bruce’s relationship crashed and burned, rumours of teammates possibly hooking up or even liking each other seemed to set everyone on edge. It was too much of a risk, one person favouring another’s safety during missions or getting distracted. The only exception was for Vision and Wanda, who the team did not exactly count as committing a crime because Vision lacked human error.

As someone who was closed off, Y/N had never thought much of the rule. She’d conditioned herself to keep a distance from people, even after learning to tame her poison abilities. She was so used to burning someone’s skin by simply touching them or poison someone by sharing a drink that the idea of being able to return to some of her previous indulgences was discomforting. However, with Joaquin’s arrival, that rule suddenly flashed before her eyes like an obnoxious billboard.

Joaquin was speechless when he first met Y/N. He’d seen her in the media but in person, she took his breath away. When he’d tried to shake her hand, she stared at it for a moment before returning the formality. As their skin touched, she looked him in the eye and offered him a small smile. She was quiet, but he could almost see the gears turning as though she had come up with a particularly smart response in her head. He could tell that despite the cold exterior, she was all fire within.

The first time Joaquin went to the gym to train with his new teammates, Y/N was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Y/N?” he asked Sam.

“She doesn’t like to train with us,” he answered.

“She has her own space down the hall,” Natasha pointed over her shoulder. “Something to do with not wanting to hurt anyone.”

The room Y/N trained in was similar in size to a shipping container. The longest walls were made of glass but the shorter were of cement. He watched her from the other side of the glass, fighting off Tony’s training drones and dummies. As she raised her hands, thick neon-green liquid rose to her fingertips and sprayed out at the training dummy. She took down three others by blowing a cloud of yellow, billowing gas at them. Joaquin clapped, causing her to look around with furrowed brows. She went over to a high-tech panel a few feet from him and when she tapped a few buttons, her eyes widened as they caught his.

He raised a friendly hand with an abashed smile, “Sorry.”

Y/N only assessed him, then turned back to her work.

Joaquin proceeded took the long route to the gym every morning. His new path allowed him to walk past her training room and the more he passed by, the more sure he was sure she’d stopped using the two-way glass feature. One time, he caught her as she was exiting.

“You’re late,” she commented.

It was so rare to hear her speak that he savoured every syllable.

She was right, though. He was very late to training that morning.

“Yeah, I was on the phone with my mom,” he sighed. “I love her but sometimes I feel like she’ll never let me go.”

Y/N cracked an almost imperceptible smile and nodded.

“How come you practice alone?” he asked.

Her eyes roved over him, detailing his appearance for the morning. “I’m sure you’ve seen the news.”

“Don’t believe everything you see online.”

Y/N’s snort brought a smile to his face. It was like an achievement, making her laugh. To others it was nothing, but to him it felt like everything.

“It’s safer this way,” she glanced back at the darkened room.

“But you’ve learned to control your powers, right?”

Her head cocked and she peered at the ground. “I’ve been meaning to tell you…” She hesitated, “Thank you for shaking my hand.”

Joaquin’s brows furrowed. What an odd thing to thank him for.

“It’s only the polite thing,” he replied.

Y/N looked from one of his eyes to the other. He couldn’t tell if she was studying him or judging him. He felt like he was missing something. Without another word, she walked away.

Another morning, Joaquin knocked on the glass and waved her over. She stuck her head out the crystal door, waiting for him to speak.

“Hi,” he smiled with a sigh. “Uh, I was just wondering if you wanted to get some food sometime? Not—not as a date, just… just to get to know my teammate. I think you’re really cool and—”

“I don’t eat out,” she interjected his rambling.

“Why not?”

Her lips flattened into a line and she pushed her sweaty baby hairs from her forehead. “It’s not safe. I’m like a virus. I could kill someone by them touching my fork.”

“You touched me and I’m still here. See?” He held up the hand she shook.

Y/N sighed and pulled the door closed. Joaquin jammed his foot between it before it could fully close and grabbed the door.

“Let me cook for you,” he offered.

“That’s—”

“I can buy disposable dishes or you can wash them yourself,” he spoke quickly. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”

The look in his eyes was desperate and she almost felt bad saying no. She looked him over again, then nodded.

That had started it all. Y/N had spoke more than she had in a long time. As time went on, he would catch her in the halls and make conversation. He even managed to make her fully smile.

One late night, Joaquin found her sitting on the edge of the koi pond in the lobby, a ceramic bowl in one hand. He hadn’t seen her in anything other than workout clothing or their suits. A smile graced her lips as she dropped food into the pond. He’d never seen her so relaxed.

“Doesn’t Stark have someone doing that for him?”

Her head whipped to meet his gaze.

Joaquin cringed, “Sorry.”

Y/N returned to her fish, dropping a small piece of orange into the pond. The fish leapt at the food, splashing water on her sweats, but she didn’t seem to mind. “He does,” she replied to his inquiry. “When she’s on vacation I do it for her.”

“At one in the morning?”

She eyed him, “You’re one to talk.”

Joaquin chuckled at her quip. “Do you mind?”

At a shake of her head, he sat himself beside her. He watched her take another piece of orange and hold it out to him. Her fingers brushed his skin as she set the wet fruit in his palm and he wanted to say he was proud of her but was afraid it might scare her off.

“Did you know,” she began, grabbing some orange, “koi can recognize people?”

Joaquin watched her put her hand in the water and four fish fought for the food in her hand. He couldn’t look away from her satisfied smile. It made him feel giddy, like a school boy with a crush again. She made him feel things he hadn’t in a long time.

“Go on.”

Joaquin did a double take as he realized from her words that he had been staring. Instead of her usual blank expression she offered him, a small smile was tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Do I just… drop it in?” he asked, angling his hand over the water.

Y/N nodded encouragingly.

Joaquin let go of the fruit and a laugh left his lips as they dove for it. This time, it was Y/N’s turn to be caught staring. They both couldn’t seem to look away. Caught up in the moment, Joaquin reached for her free hand. His breathing picked up as she didn’t pull away from his touch. Her skin was warm, just as he’d imagined. He ran his thumb gently over her knuckles. A smile twitched across her lips and when it fully appeared, his world felt a little brighter.

“You’re beautiful,” he found himself saying.

Y/N looked to the wall of windows, out to the hanger across the property. The light of the moon and the glow of the lamplights illuminated her face. She came back to him, peering at their hands. Y/N raised her hand and he thought for a moment she was going to push him away, but she didn’t. Joaquin could only watch as she raised his palm to her cheek. His fingers were covered in the juice from the orange but she didn’t seem to care. As he ran his thumb under her eye, she closed her eyes.

“When I first came here,” she began, “no one shook my hand. They weren’t trying to be rude, I know that, but they knew what I was. They were afraid, even if they didn’t want to admit it.”

Joaquin almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but he also wasn’t surprised. She’d joined the Avengers years before him and if he guessed correctly, the articles that came out about her accidentally killing people because of her powers were still fresh on people’s minds. The only difference between Joaquin and the rest of the team was that by the time he joined, people with superpowers were normalized and rarely went about the world terrorizing others on purpose. Joaquin knew there was no way Steve Rogers would have agreed to have her on the team if she was a danger.

After that night at the koi pond, things began as innocent brushes, small conversations while their teammates were around, shooting a glance to each other across tables.

Y/N had kissed him first. He wanted to give her the control—only advance things when she was comfortable. The more she’d pull him into empty hallways and kissed him before running off again, the more comfortable he was with waiting for her. Joaquin was addicted to her and he wasn’t afraid to admit it.

After a while, he suggested she try using the same gym as them. The day she’d walked in, almost all eyes were on her. Joaquin had caught her rigid shoulders and took advantage of Sam’s distraction, slamming him to the mat with a loud smack. The entire room looked to Joaquin standing over Sam. Bucky’s laugh echoed from his spot on the bench.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Sam exclaimed.

“Never let your guard down, Sam,” Natasha smirked. “Good one Joaquin.”

“No, man, get away from me,” Captain America smacked Joaquin’s offered hand.

He laughed, teasing him, “Don’t be such a sore loser, Cap.”

“Listen, I’ll get you back,” he pointed as he went for his water bottle.

Joaquin took the momentary breather to find Y/N again. She was wrapping her hands, preparing to use the punching bag. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at him and nodded her thanks.

Joaquin made sure to distract them any time she entered the gym and eventually, he didn’t have to anymore. The team could see she was getting more comfortable and yet no one seemed to question her sudden change in attitude. Natasha began to spar with Y/N, helping perfect her moves and teach her new ones. Joaquin was proud as he watched her day after day grow closer with their team. He was happy seeing her be herself, understanding that she wasn’t defined by her past.

After months of hiding their relationship, Joaquin strode into the kitchen late at night. Natasha was leaning back against the counter, spooning yoghurt into her mouth.

“You looking forward to tomorrow?” he asked.

Tony was hosting his annual Stark Expo and the Avengers attendance was mandatory.

“Not really,” she mumbled. “I’ll probably show up an hour before it ends. Then Tony can’t say I didn’t show.”

Joaquin chuckled as he grabbed an orange from the fruit bowl. “That’s smart.”

Natasha watched as he got out a cutting board, knife, and bowl.

“You gonna bring anyone?” she asked.

“Why? Wanna be my date?”

Natasha cringed, but a laugh escaped her. “You’re a little too young for my taste, kid. Besides, I don’t think it’d be appropriate.”

“Because of the no-dating-teammates rule?” he cut the orange into small pieces.

Natasha was quiet as she scraped the last of the yoghurt from the cup. Joaquin glanced up to find a small smile on her lips.

“You going to feed the fish?” she asked.

“Uh…” he looked down at the sticky mess on the counter, “yeah.”

“Sometimes thing echo around here, you know?” Natasha smirked. “Walls are made of glass. Lots of open space in the lobby.”

Joaquin continued to cut up the orange. “Yeah.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody.”

“Won’t tell anyone what?” he chuckled, feigning confusion.

Natasha threw out her yoghurt cup and put the spoon in the dishwasher.

“You’re a good liar, Captain,” she said as she made her way back to the hall. “It takes one to know one.”

Natasha disappeared toward the bedrooms with a wink, leaving him alone in the kitchen with his thoughts.

The next night, Joaquin was dressed in his best suit. He couldn’t keep his eyes off Y/N in her outfit. She was the definition of beautiful. There were a few times he was sure his teammates had caught him admiring her. 

Thor suddenly clapped a tipsy hand on Joaquin’s shoulder. The Falcon bent slightly at the knees from the weight of his grip.

“You’re a good man, Captain Falcon,” the god slurred a little. “You deserve a good woman. Y/N seems good, too.”

Joaquin had laughed awkwardly, trying his best to come up with a way out of the situation. “Thanks, man.”

“You should ask her out,” Thor encouraged.

“I don’t know…”

“What? Are you scared? Never be afraid, little man,” he squeezed a little harder with a good shake and Joaquin had to fight back a groan from the throbbing of his shoulder blade. “You need not be afraid of women. Or men. Whichever you prefer. You know, my brother is—”

“I don’t think that’d be fair to everyone,” Joaquin quickly replied. “I wouldn’t want to make things awkward.”

“You’re a good man,” Thor tapped him a little too hard on the cheek. “I’m sure no one would mind.”

Joaquin searched for Y/N in the sea of people as Thor walked away. He didn’t care if people noticed him staring. Maybe Thor was right. If they kept it professional around their teammates as they already had, there would be no harm. Besides, if Vision and Wanda could move out and build a family together, why couldn’t he and Y/N have a life of their own, too?

 That night, when their formal clothes were on the floor and Y/N lay against his chest, Joaquin spoke into the dark, “I think we should tell them.”

Y/N lifted her head, looking at him through the golden lamp light, “What?”

“Natasha knows,” he admitted. “And Thor—”

“Don’t tell me he does, too,” she sat up. “He can’t keep a secret, Joaquin. If he knows, everyone does.”

“Y/N,” he cradled her face in his hands. “He doesn’t know.”

She sighed, but her lips remained in a flat line.

“Thor suggested I ask you out. I told him it wouldn’t be fair to the team but he said he didn’t think they’d mind.”

“And you agree.”

Joaquin brushed his thumb under her eye, “Y/N, I love you and I want everyone to know. We’ve already done great at hiding it so it shouldn’t be difficult to continue keeping it professional once it’s out there.”

“When we put it out there, they will make assumptions,” she argued. “They will disregard how everything’s been in the past and they’ll think we can’t handle working together.”

He knew her words were coming from a place of anxiety and he didn’t wish to push her, only to reassure. She was good at listening and considering opinions, even if she didn’t agree at the time.

“These people aren’t just our teammates,” he said carefully. “They’re our family. Natasha and Bruce broke up, but they’re still cordial. They don’t make it uncomfortable for us because they are professionals and we are all there for each other. Most of these people don’t have anyone outside the compound they can call family.”

Joaquin never brought it up again after that night. He would let her think about it for as long as she wanted.

After a couple of days, Y/N decided she didn’t want to be cold anymore. She realized that she’d been using her trust issues as an excuse and a deluded explanation for why she didn’t deserve happiness. Joaquin and Thor were right, they wouldn’t care because they trusted each other.

She’d kept herself locked away for too long. She’d been scared of how people would perceive her for too long. Joaquin had proved to her that she was worthy of love; that she was perfect the way she was. It wasn’t fair to him to keep them hiding any longer, but it especially wasn’t fair to herself. She deserved to be something more than the water that had devoured her all those years ago. It may have ate at her blood and altered her brain, but her heart was still hers.

She deserved love.

The team sat in the common area eating take out together. Joaquin stood at the counter with Sam and Bucky when he caught sight of Y/N entering from the hallway. She stopped in the archway and looked at him before eyeing the rest of their teammates. The room went quiet as they took notice of her clear need to say something.

“Joaquin and I are dating.”

The room erupted in voices. Joaquin flinched at the sudden noise, almost choking on a piece of broccoli. Sam looked to him with wide, excited eyes.

“I knew it!” he exclaimed. “I told you!” he looked to Bucky, who smiled into his food with a shake of his head.

“I would like everyone to know this was my doing,” Thor raised a hand. “I set this up.”

“No, you did not,” Pietro laughed.

“I did!” the god insisted. “I suggested he ask her out.”

“How long have you been dating?” Wanda asked the couple over her shoulder.

Joaquin looked to Y/N, who stared at him like a deer in headlights. She couldn’t speak even if she wanted to.

“Almost a year,” Joaquin said.

“Yo, what the hell, man?” Sam back-handed him in the chest.

From the couch, Rhodey whistled.

“I thought we were close,” Sam continued teasingly.

“I can’t believe you two have been doing it under my roof for almost a year and I didn’t know,” Tony quipped, face serious.

“God, Tony,” Natasha chastised.

“Tony, really?” Rhodey reached over to Peter, clamping his hands over his ears. “There are children present.”

“I’m twenty-five!” Peter exclaimed, pushing his hands away.

Joaquin’s smile at Y/N from across the room seemed to shake her from her thoughts. She broke the distance and he slid an arm around her shoulders, shielding her from the excitement of the room.

“I only have one rule,” Tony said, catching everyone’s attention. “No kids under my roof. I don’t need any of those around here, especially ones shooting poison darts at me while I try to enjoy my breakfast.”

Joaquin laughed and gazed down at Y/N who hid against his chest. He placed a kiss to the top of her head and she squeezed him reassuringly.

[gilmorenights]

Mmkay, since EVERYONE is hunting for your headcannons (including me lol), how about some of your favorite modern au hc's for all da characters?

YAYYY MORE HEADCANONS (I enjoy these asks sm you have no idea)

Yong is the most chronically online out of all of them. He uses brainrot terms 24/7 and is up to date with every new trend the moment there is one

Nuru is a swiftie, bite me if you don’t agree. She lays on the floor of her bedroom listening to The Prophecy on her very expensive limited edition vinyl from Target and has a collection of TS cardigans

Hugo has a motorcycle named Olivia. I LOVE when people add this little detail into modern aus (especially when he makes the motorcycle from scratch because he’s a genius like that)

Varian despises coffee (will only drink it with an insane amount of sugar and creamer), and his go to drink at cafes is probably a mocha of some kind because of the chocolate in it. Hugo, on the other hand, likes his coffee on the darker side and tells Varian he’s going to die in his 20’s from the amount of sugar he drinks

Varian was one of those prodigy children who went through academic burnout in high school

Nuru keeps herself very educated and up to date on worldwide politics

Yong uses discord as his main means of communication and won’t answer on any other platform

Varian owns a truck (will die on this hill), one of those old ones that has a super loud engine and windows you have to manually open, but there’s only a 50% chance it’ll actually open when you try. Same with the heat, Varian says it takes a while to heat up but most of the time it just blows cold air in your face until the truck is turned off

Yong got everyone on Team Radical addicted to block blast

Nuru hosts movie night at her house every Friday night, Yong always chooses Marvel movies

MECHANIC HUGO 🙏

Hugo has been using the same YouTube tutorial to cut his hair since high school

Varian and Hugo were either childhood best friends because of Donnie and Ulla or they were academic rivals who despised each other, there’s no in between

Valedictorian Nuru cuz my girl deserves it 🙏

Yong skipped a couple grades in school so most of his friends are older than him

Ulla had the slightest southern accent that Varian picked up as a kid. He grew out of it as he got older, but whenever he gets really mad or fired up about something, it comes out and Hugo makes fun of it (90% of the time he’s the reason said accent comes out)

I have more that I can’t think of right now but uhhh yeah

Hehe thank you for the ask <33

[simply-simplid]

Do you have any JackieNat nsfw headcannons? PMF or in general! I know those bitches are freaky in bed

Okay finally getting to this

For anyone who has read PMF I’ve only really dipped into the shallow end of the smut pool so this will be new and hopefully not uncomfortable to read AHXHCHKFSA

SFW:

Jackie is VERY touchy. Even when it’s just a date night or dinner or Netflix or cuddling or whatever- Jackie HAS to be touching Natalie in some way.

Jackie tells Natalie she’s happiest when there’s no space between them

It was a little overwhelming for Natalie at first when they first started dating because she’s so used to touch being tied up with something more. People only touching her when they want something from her.

But Jackie’s not like that. Jackie could die happy if it was in Nat’s arms. Jackie sleeps easier when she can feel Nat’s warmth. Jackie touches Natalie like she’s something perfect and precious and deserving of love.

Natalie really likes the noises Jackie makes, during or outside of sex. She likes how Jackie hums when she’s considering her thoughts. She likes how Jackie yips when Nat surprises her by lifting her up. She REALLY likes how Jackie purrs when she nestles into the crook of Nat’s neck while they cuddle.

Jackie loves playing with Nat’s hair. When they are watching tv or just lounging around, Jackie likes to pull Nat to lay across her lap so she can run her fingers through her hair. Natalie swears it doesn’t affect her as much as it does but she melts into a puddle when Jackie scritches her scalp

General love languages:

Nat, giving: acts of service

Nat, receiving: words of affirmation

Jackie, giving: physical touch

Jackie, receiving: quality time

NSFW below the cut

For now I’ll just stick with the characterization of JackieNat that I work with for PMF but most of these can be applied to general AUs of them

General:

I think generally speaking Nat might have a higher sex drive than Jackie, but because Jackie was so repressed for so long, she’s much needier about it.

Natalie is almost always down and it’s not hard for her to get horny- but when Jackie gets horny- she HAS to do something about it or it will wreck her

They’ll be out in public and Natalie will laugh in a certain way or brush her hand across Jackie’s thigh thoughtlessly and Jackie’s brain will just click into horny feral mode and she spends the next several minutes completely tuning out whatever conversation she is engaged in because all she can think about is “Nat. Need Nat. Need Nat now. Bad. Right now. Fuck she’s hot. Fuck I want her to fuck me. Fuck I need to bite her. Why is Nat not getting the hint? Why is Nat not throwing me over her shoulder and taking me home right now? Why are we still talking?”

The second they are in the car, Jackie won’t stop touching her and breathily whining. Natalie has to keep pulling her hand away from her thigh.

“Babe- we can’t do anything if I crash and we die.”

“Pull over then. Need you >:(“

“I’m not fucking you in the backseat like teenagers.”

Jackie is a master at the whiny pout and Natalie has to force herself not to laugh at the huffy tantrums

The second they are home, Jackie is all over her. Like Natalie can’t even put the keys down before Jackie is tugging on her jacket and trying to straddle her standing up.

Jackie is always messy when she gets this needy, like she can’t get enough and needs anything and everything Nat Nat Nat

Dynamics:

I think Nat will naturally slip into more of a top role when it comes to Jackie because she’s is just so obsessed with how sensitive Jackie is

Jackie is. UNBELIEVABLY sensitive.

The power rush Nat feels drawing reactions out of Jackie is intoxicating to her. Jackie who built up an image of pristine perfection completely unraveling under Nat’s touch? It makes her feel like a god

That being said- Jackie is not a pillow princess naturally. Sometimes Nat will fuck her so hard and good that Jackie is incapable of reciprocating because she’s just a puddle. But Jackie always makes it right.

Jackie has as much of a hunger for Nat as Nat has for Jackie. She thinks there’s no purer high than making Nat feel good and it makes her feel crazy that she ever thought she could find that kind of satisfaction with guys.

I think Nat likes topping more than bottoming. She doesn’t dislike bottoming, she just gets so much pleasure out of making Jackie feel good and the head rush she gets from drawing out her reactions.

Natalie gets unfathomably hot and bothered by how Jackie looks when she’s completely fucked out and spent

Jackie is stubborn as hell so even when she’s too spent to keep going she’ll try to reciprocate. Nat usually just laughs and cuddles her to get her to sleep. Jackie will pout and grumble and Nat will assure her that they can go again in the morning if she’s not too tired.

Jackie is VERY vocal. As a bottom, unless they are playing into a more dom/sub situation, that girl is making her voice known. Whether it’s pitchy whines or “fuck- right there- please- please- fuck…”

She’s also grabby, so when Nat is eating her out, Jackie absolutely has her fingers in Nat’s hair pulling and pushing her closer. Nat really likes it when she pulls her hair.

Jackie can get very power bottomy sometimes too. When she’s super in her head and needs to feel in control of something, Nat will readily hand that control over and let Jackie guide her where she needs her.

Their power dynamic will also fluctuate depending on mood and circumstance.

They have gotten really good at reading each other and communicating so they know what the other needs.

When Nat has a bad day or gets too in her head about things, she usually likes to turn her brain off and focus on someone else, so Jackie will readily let her take her to bed. Nat usually makes love to Jackie slowly on these nights, relishing in Jackie’s genuine and pure affection that she offers freely to Nat. Jackie strokes her hair and whispers praise and loving words and then cuddles into her when they are done and kisses her with all the love and adoration she feels for her. She lets Natalie decide when she’s comfortable enough to talk about it.

When Jackie gets too full of self-doubt and risks spiraling in her self-hatred, Nat is quickly there to focus her energy elsewhere and make sure Jackie can feel that she’s present with her. These nights usually come with Nat’s assured “I’ve got you baby. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. Can you let go for me? You make me feel so good. You’re so good for me, so perfect, so you. I adore you”

All in all- they really could be considered switches at heart because even though Natalie gets more pleasure out of topping usually, she is completely and wholly whipped by Jackie and that girl is really the one holding the power. Sometimes it scares Nat a little bit how much she would do for Jackie and how quickly she would do it if the girl just batted her eyelashes at her

Experimentation:

I agree with you anon- these two are freaks <3

I think they are the type to trust each other so completely and be so good at communicating their needs and reading each other that there is very little they would be entirely opposed to trying

I will say that I think they are pretty hard monogamous. Jackie Taylor is a possessive creature and would not be into sharing Natalie and Natalie is more than happy having Jackie to cherish forever

For kinks they would experiment with, I think they’ll have different preferences.

Jackie is a very tactile person, she needs to be able to grab onto something- preferably Nat but if not Nat, then sheets or a pillow or a headboard. So I think Jackie would be particular about any kind of bondage. She would have to be in a very specific mood to want to give up her ability to reach for Nat’s hand.

Nat on the other hand, while she’s more inclined to top, she definitely has had times where she gets ridiculously turned on by the idea or sight of Jackie in complete control over her. I think Jackie would be nervous about it at first, but seeing how much it affects Nat would definitely do something to her.

Nat tied up and kneeling in front of Jackie, Jackie smiling down at her all sweet, cooing about how pretty and perfect Natalie looks for her.

Sadism/Masochism: both of them are freaks for this. Any kind of pain play for them starts off super slow. Maybe Natalie catches Jackie clenching her thighs a little tightly at the teasing mention of punishment and that starts the conversation.

It would be a little while into their relationship when they start implementing any kind of punishment/pain into their sex lives because they would both be very insistent on a clear line of communication and understanding and trust.

That being said. With all the proper safeguards and discussions in place- they both have fun with it.

Nat generally likes a little bit of pain. Normally that comes in the form of Jackie digging her nails into Nat’s back or biting onto Nat’s shoulder while Nat is fucking her. When Nat is in a more submissive mood, she likes when Jackie lightly smacks her cheek before cooing over her.

Jackie is into breath play. She likes when Nat grabs her throat, even if there isn’t enough pressure to do anything, she just likes the grounding feeling of being held there. Natalie goes crazy over it too because of how much trust Jackie puts in her when they do this.

Natalie also loves how Jackie gets impossibly more sensitive when they incorporate a little pain into it. Jackie has almost come before just by Natalie holding her throat and saying “You’re so pretty when you cry for me baby.”

Overstimulation: this is a big one for them. Because Jackie is so sensitive, it is more common that she’ll have at least two orgasms every time they fuck. Natalie gets a huge high off of testing how far she can push Jackie and how many rounds she can go.

Natalie typically needs a little more downtime between rounds when she’s on the receiving end. When she comes, it’s easy for her body to kind of melt into a post-sex haze where she would rather just cuddle and sleep.

Dirty talk: Jackie is a freak for both degradation and praise. My girl will start crying easily when she gets praised during sex. Even if it’s just “my pretty girl. My perfect girl”- she’s immediately whimpering. She’s very desperate to please and earn her praise. She also gets super turned on when Nat is teasing and degrading.

“Are you about to cum? Already? Aren’t you just a greedy little thing?”

Moaning immediately

Nat is also super into praise, but more so in the “fuck, you’re fucking me so well. You’re so good. So perfect for me. You take such good care of me. Nobody gets to have me the way you have me.”

Natalie will never admit to the fact that she whimpered the first time Jackie called her a “good girl”

Again, Nat is weak for Jackie, so all that bravado and smugness goes out the window the second Jackie bats her eyelashes and “Baby, could you get on your knees for me? I really want your mouth.”

Nat’s on the ground with a thud in half a second

Marks: both of them love to leave marks on each other. Jackie is a biter and doesn’t even consciously leave marks with her teeth- it just happens- but Nat loves it. She loves her feral animal of a girlfriend.

Jackie would get Natalie’s hickeys and love bites tattooed on her neck if she could. She loves being able to have little visible indicators that she belongs to Nat. That Nat chose to claim her

Speaking of claiming- possession:

Jackie gets extremely turned on when Nat acts possessive of her. Whether it’s a hand on her thigh at the bar, glaring down a drunken asshole, or just whispering “Mine. My girl. My Jackie.” It makes her heart flutter violently.

Natalie thinks it’s both amusing and hot when Jackie gets possessive. Jackie will glare at other girls who flirt with Natalie and then sulk about it until they get home and then Jackie is furiously staking her claim by mouthing hickeys all across Nat’s neck.

“Baby- I love you- but I don’t want my coworkers getting to see evidence of what we get up to in the bedroom.”

Jackie considers her carefully, getting the look in her eye that she used to get on the soccer field when evaluating an enemy team and considering a strategy for victory. Then she quirks a challenging brow that makes Nat shiver and starts pressing suctioning kisses against Nat’s chest. Before Nat can protest, Jackie is glaring up at her with another challenge

“What? Do your coworkers get to see you here?” She snarks as she leaves a hickey right above Nat’s left nipple.

Natalie swallows any remaining arguments and lets Jackie do her worst (best<3)

Favorite Positions:

Natalie: Nat loves having Jackie anyway she can. She’s hard pressed to pick an absolute favorite position, but she has a few

She loves fucking Jackie with the strap. In any position. She goes feral when Jackie rides her, she loves seeing how she grinds above her and throws her head back. She gets the best views from this position.

She also loves fucking Jackie from behind, it gives her such a power rush. It also gives her access to Jackie’s hair which she likes to tug gently because Jackie always makes the prettiest sounds when she does.

Because Jackie likes to be able to see, she doesn’t get to do this quite as often, but she LOVES draping herself over Jackie’s back and fucking her that way. It just feels so intimate to her. She always makes sure to have a hand available for Jackie to hold onto and let’s her position her face to the side so Nat can occasionally press kisses to the side of her face to keep her happy.

Natalie LOVES eating Jackie out. Jackie comes apart very easily whenever Nat gets her mouth on her so she has gotten very good at edging Jackie to draw it out. Getting those pretty little whimpers and desperate whines is a very nice bonus.

One of their most common positions usually starts from casual intimate moments that just lead to more. Jackie likes to koala into Nat’s lap and tuck herself between her arms, which just so happens to be a very easy position for her to grind into Nat’s thigh with the slightest shift. Nat LOVES this. She loves feel Jackie pant into her neck while she ruts against her. Nat usually will rub her back or help guide her movements, pressing kisses into Jackie’s temple and whispering her praise until she’s unraveling into a twitchy mess.

Jackie’s favorites:

Jackie loves being able to see Nat. She’ll get flustered sometimes and avert her gaze, but when Nat pulls her attention back to her, Jackie swoons.

Missionary might be vanilla, but she loves it because she gets to have that contact with Nat. She also loves being in Nat’s lap. Whether it’s Nat’s fingers, thigh, or a strap pleasuring her, Jackie loves being able to tuck her face into Nat’s neck and shoulders and bite down when she needs to

Jackie really likes eating out Nat. She likes the secure feeling of Nat’s strong thighs cradling her head

She also really likes when Nat sits on her face, because she gets a good view and absolutely melts when Nat looks down at her and praises how good she is

She also is obsessed with Nat’s abs and likes to grind on them. Any time Nat puts her hands around Jackie’s hips or on her ass, she’s putty in her hands.

OKAY there you go freaks, enjoy the horny. I’m running on very little sleep and wrote this all in an unedited stream of consciousness. Hopefully it reads naturally and not forced 🫡

[lipstickmarks]

*cracks knuckles*

Brat Sloane and Brat Tamer Dain

sloane be slobbering on it

Sloane is obsessed with their size difference and it boosts Dain’s self esteem

they both have a glow up once they get together. Sloane starts glowing from feeling so relaxed and stress free and Dain gets a little swagger in his step from how much Sloane gasses him up. Basically, they both look better bc they both feel better

their spats always end in sex. not big fights like “you risked your life unnecessarily and i’m mad at you” but “why would you tell Aaric about our sex life?!” "We were playing Never Have I Ever!"

Dain loves to spoil. He never assumed he’d be the type to drop all his life savings on gifts for his person but Sloane brings it out in him. He just has the urge to shower her with presents and make sure she’s always happy. When others catch on, they give him shit for it but when Dain starts to get into the really extravagant gifts, everyone’s like “sugar daddy Dain????”

they’re that couple that’s ALWAYS on vacation to the point that it annoys other people😭

sloane loves to cuddle. dain likes it but sloane is always rearranging them and then accidentally elbowing him in the chin and jamming her hair in his mouth. sloane just wants to be inside his skin. 🤷🏻‍♀️

dain will be laying in bed, chatting about nonsense and then all of a sudden— whoops! sloane pulls his dick out and starts running her thumb over his head. “Go ahead baby, I’m listening”

sloane gets so hot and bothered around Dain. she sometimes sneaks into his bag while he’s at the gym and steals his sweat towel so she can smell it: then she uses it to get herself off when he’s not around.. WHO SAID THAT

when Dain finds out he’s been robbed, he punishes her. he uses that same towel as a gag while he’s fucks her from behind and punishes her with ass slaps.

Sloane is Dain’s peace. He’s a bit at war with himself, grappling with the things he’s done and the consequences of falling for propaganda. The lives that his obedience and incidental complacency claimed. Sometimes, he straight up fucking HATES himself. Those times, when things get really bad, he’ll wrap Sloane up in a hug from behind, biceps tight across her chest, and breathe her in. Hot tears will prick his eyes as he mutters into the crown of her head, “I don’t deserve you.”

Then Sloane always sits him down and proves that that is indeed not the case. “Dain, I am choosing you. You’re not your mistakes. You are who I love. You have to believe you’re worthy of that.”

Dain needs a lot of reassurance. He had to change his perspective very quickly and sometimes it still makes his head spin. Sloane grounds him, keeps him sane, reminds him that there are certain truths that can never be covered up or altered. Like the fact that they were made for each other. She’ll swing her leg over his in bed and snuggle into his chest. “Look how well we fit, baby.”

Oh, speaking of pet names— Sloane loves to call Dain by endearments. He needs a lot of love and assurance and Sloane is more than happy to comply. Baby, sweetheart, my love, they all turn Dain into a blushing mess. And considering how often Dain has her blushing and stuttering in bed, it’s a nice exchange of power.

Dain calls Sloane “Mairi” when he’s really pissed at her, but only in the field. In the bedroom, she is Sloane, sweetheart, my love, or baby.

they love messy, nasty sex. If the sheets aren’t soaked through from Sloane squirting then did they even do it?

Sloane is addicted to wearing clothes with Dain’s last name on it. Flight jacket? Yes. T-shirt? Yes. If it says Aetos, hand it the fuck over.

Dain also loves it when Sloane wears his last name. He especially loves fucking her in nothing but those articles of clothing.

Dain proposes while they’re laying in bed. Sloane offers him a simple act of kindness like handing him a tissue or fixing his bed head and he knows right then and there he wants her to be his wife.

they have 3 little girls and they all are identical to sloane. an army of mini sloanes. dain is obsessed with all of them.

I've been curious—what are some of your favorite Sloane/Dain headcanons? I need to fill the void; I miss those two.

[cryingatwindermerepeaks]

Hi omg can u pls write little van and cg lottie as adults pls?

Little!Van x Cg!Lottie - Reuniting

Cw: swearing

Word count: 1065

—————————

Van had picked foraging, which was stupid. She did not want to go around and pick berries like she was back in the dumb wilderness again. Everything that had happened today - and everything that had been happening for the last few days - felt like the most mean and horrible joke. Van had tried her hardest to avoid all of the big and scary memories but now she was back here, in the clutches of the very people who shared the key to the box where she hid all the scary stuff. It had been messing with her brain, sending her straight back there, or, further, really. Trudging along around the tree line that surrounded Lottie's weird culty camp, Van couldn’t stop her mind from slipping back to an age before all of this had started.

“There are some nice flowers growing on the western border, if you want me to show you?” it was Lottie’s voice, causing Van’s metaphorical hackles to raise. She whipped her head around defensively.

“I don’t wanna,” She huffed, unable to keep the petulant tone from her voice. Lottie tilted her head slightly to the side, Van’s voice sending her back to moments shared what felt like a lifetime ago.

Lottie stepped closer, not missing the way Van tensed at the approach. “Berries out north then?” Lottie suggested, her voice placid and gentle. Van crossed her arms, brow creasing in frustration.

“I don’t want to do any of this stupid shit.” She stomped her foot grouchily and crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

Lottie’s face fell. “Van, we don’t use that sort of language,” She reprimanded gently. Van’s eyes began to well up with tears. None of this was fair! She didn’t want to be here, she didn’t want to do this. She also was not a baby, and Lottie didn’t get to tell her what language to use! Lottie didn’t get to talk to her like she would’ve 25 years ago. As if nothing had changed, as if they were back there. Van turned on her heel, never one to cry in front of others, and stormed off to go hide.

She ended up slumped down against the wall of one of the many sheds on the compound. It was quiet and the tall building shaded her from the burning afternoon sun. Frustration built up inside her chest, making her feel smaller than ever. The thought that maybe she had wanted Lottie to follow her flickered vaguely through her mind. It was an upsetting thought, to consider maybe after all this time she could trust Lottie the way she once had. Morseo, it was upsetting that she knew she couldn’t. Van rubbed the tears from her cheeks and began to rip handfuls of grass from the ground below her, chucking the dirt filled blades onto the ground in front of her and watching as they flew out over her worn out sneakers. This was all so dumb. She just wanted to go home.

When Lottie appeared beside her a few minutes later, Van didn’t have the energy to move away. Lottie slid down the wall next to Van, leaving only the torn up patch of dirt between them. “I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m sorry,” Lottie apologised quietly. “I guess… I just forgot how long it’s been, I should’ve understood that it wouldn’t be the same.”

Van frowned, sliding down further against the wall so her legs were stretched out almost as far as Lottie’s. “Sorry for using bad language,” Van mumbled, because even though it had been a long time, Van didn’t want Lottie to be mad at her.

“No need to be sorry about that,” Lottie sighed gently, patting Van’s knee comfortingly. The small gesture pulled a string in Van that she thought had long ago been severed. She leaned instinctively into Lottie’s side, letting her weight fall fully into someone else’s hold for the first time in 25 years. “I’ve got you, it’s ok,” Lottie cooed, wrapping her arms around Van tightly. Van sniffled, hiding her face against Lottie’s neck. With her eyes closed, it was almost possible to convince herself nothing had changed at all.

“Mama.” The word should’ve sounded foreign and unfamiliar on Van’s tongue after all these years. But it didn’t. It was natural, Lottie was her Mama.

“Mama’s here,” Lottie promised, peppering kisses to the top of Van’s head. “Why don’t we go back to my room, hm? I could get you some juice?” Van perked up at the suggestion. Her body was starting to ache from sitting on the hard ground and she hadn’t brought her medication.

“Mkay,” She agreed, letting Lottie lead her towards her quarters. It was nice inside, Lottie’s room was decorated with gentle colours and lights. It felt warm, homey. There was a couch, a bed, and a small kitchenette.

“Go lay down, I’ll get your juice,” Lottie directed. Van nodded, slipping her shoes off and crawling up onto Lottie’s bed. It probably would’ve been more appropriate to lay down on the couch but Van didn’t care. The bed had thick, fluffy pillows and soft blankets which Van immediately wrapped herself in. It smelt like Lottie. Yes - there were hints of lavender soap and perfume and things that they didn’t have back then, but beneath it all, there was something familiar. Lottie came over with a sippy cup in her hand and van couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy that Lottie might’ve taken care of other people like she was taking care of Van now. It didn't really matter, she decided, when she felt the gentle presence of lottie slip into the bed next to her. Van made grabby hands for the sippy cup, blue with little green dinosaurs on it. “Manners,” Lottie prompted gently.

“Please?” Van requested quietly, smiling when Lottie handed her the juice. It tasted different to anything van had ever had before. Earthy, thick, but still very sweet like it had been mixed with honey. It wasn’t bad, she decided firmly. None of this was really that bad when she thought about it. At least, van couldn’t bring herself to think about all the ways it could possibly be bad when she was curled up against Lottie in bed with a sippy and a gentle hand stroking through her hair and working out all the tensions in her tired body.

[ahqueinfortunio]

ℬℯ𝓉𝓌ℯℯ𝓃 ℒ𝒾𝓃ℯ𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 ℒℴℴ𝓀𝓈 (𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 3)

Jack Hughes was just trying to find his headphones. That’s all. A simple mission. He stormed through the halls of the Prudential Center like a man on a quest, ducking into random rooms, ignoring any "Do Not Disturb" signs like the reckless little brother he was.

When he pushed open the door to the small media lounge, he immediately froze.

Because there, very enthusiastically tangled up on the couch, was Luke Hughes... and the Devils' star reporter — you know, the reporter, the one who'd been covering the team for years, the one who was objectively too old for Luke. Jack’s brain practically blue-screened.

Luke and the reporter sprang apart like two teenagers caught by the cops at Makeout Point. Luke’s hair was a mess, his shirt slightly rumpled, and the reporter was hastily smoothing down her blouse, looking like she was trying to teleport herself into another dimension.

There was a beat of silence where all three of them just stared at each other.

Jack slowly raised a finger, pointing accusingly. “LUKE. WHAT THE ACTUAL—???”

Luke, cheeks flaming, scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over the coffee table. “Jack, dude, calm down!” he hissed, hands flailing. “It’s not what it looks like!”

Jack blinked. Then narrowed his eyes. “You were playing Monopoly?”

The reporter let out a half-snort, half-choke and quickly clapped a hand over her mouth.

Luke groaned and dragged his hands through his hair. “Okay, it is what it looks like. But—listen! We’re dating. Secretly. Like, for real. It’s not just... uh... making out in media rooms.”

Jack's mouth flapped open and closed like a fish for a moment. He finally found words — poorly chosen ones. “Bro, she’s— she’s like, old enough to... to... rent a car without extra fees!”

The reporter arched an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Wow, thanks, Jack. Really boosting my self-esteem.”

Jack’s hands shot up in surrender. “No offense! You look great for your age! Which is a totally normal age!”

Luke stepped between them, shooting Jack a glare. “Dude, seriously, don’t be weird. I like her. She likes me. We’ve been keeping it lowkey so people wouldn’t freak out.”

Jack threw his head back dramatically. “Well, mission failed, 'cause I am FREAKING OUT.”

Luke snorted. “You’ll get over it.”

Jack muttered something about needing therapy before he slowly backed out of the room, still looking deeply traumatized. Before he fully left, he popped his head back in and said, “Use protection — I mean, for the relationship! Like, emotional protection! Trust and communication are important!”

Then he disappeared, leaving Luke and the reporter standing there, staring at the door in stunned silence.

The reporter finally looked at Luke with a smirk. “He’s gonna be fun to mess with, isn’t he?”

Luke grinned. “Oh yeah. He’s never letting me live this down.”

And somewhere, deep in the halls of the Prudential Center, Jack was already composing a long, dramatic group text to Quinn titled: “OUR LITTLE BROTHER IS A MENACE.”

Extra:

It only took three minutes after Jack’s traumatic discovery for his dramatic group text to light up Quinn Hughes’ phone in Vancouver.

Quinn blinked at the message:

Jack: BRO. EMERGENCY. LUKE IS DATING A GROWN WOMAN. LIKE A FULLY DEVELOPED, TAX-PAYING HUMAN.

Quinn frowned, slowly sitting up straighter on the couch. He quickly typed back:

Quinn: Dude. What are you even talking about?

Jack: HE WAS MAKING OUT WITH THE DEVILS REPORTER. THE ACTUAL DEVILS REPORTER. IN PUBLIC. SORT OF. WELL, SEMI-PUBLIC.

Quinn: Wait, like, the one who interviews him after games?

Jack: YES. HER. FULL ON, LIPS LOCKED, CANNOT DENY, TMZ WOULD PAY FOR THIS FOOTAGE.

Quinn dropped his phone in his lap and let out the longest sigh of his life. Of course it was Luke. Of course it was now, during playoff season. Of course Jack handled it with the emotional maturity of a wet napkin.

After a moment of deep spiritual suffering, Quinn FaceTimed Jack. Jack answered immediately, still pacing like a madman, hair sticking up wildly like he’d seen a ghost.

Quinn didn’t even say hello. “So you walked in on them?” “Yes!” Jack hissed. “It was like walking in on your dog learning how to drive a car. Wrong on so many levels.”

Quinn pinched the bridge of his nose. “And Luke said they’re dating?”

Jack nodded like a bobblehead. “Secretly dating! Apparently it’s been ‘serious’ for a while. Serious enough that I might need to send him a ‘birds and the bees’ PowerPoint presentation!”

From somewhere off-screen, a voice shouted, “I CAN HEAR YOU, JACK.”

Jack turned to yell over his shoulder, “GOOD! HEAR THE SOUND OF YOUR LIFE CRUMBLING, LUKE!”

Quinn dragged a hand down his face. “Okay, listen,” he said patiently, as if dealing with two toddlers in hockey gear. “Jack, stop acting like Luke just committed a felony. Luke, stop making out in work spaces. And both of you — can we act like adults for five seconds?”

“NO,” Jack snapped. “Probably not,” Luke called.

Quinn exhaled deeply, already regretting his life choices. “Alright. Here’s what’s gonna happen. Jack, you’re going to chill the hell out. Luke, you’re going to explain the relationship like a normal human instead of ambushing people with tongue action. And if this is legit—which it sounds like it is—then I’m happy for you. Weirded out, but happy.”

Jack looked like he wanted to object but Quinn cut him off. “And Jack, if you send one more all-caps meltdown to the group chat, I’m blocking you until the offseason.”

Jack pouted but muttered, “Fine.”

Luke leaned into the frame, smug as hell. “Love you, Quinny.”

Quinn pointed at him. “If you break her heart, Luke, I will personally fly to Jersey and dunk you into the Hudson River.”

Luke beamed. “Noted.”

The FaceTime ended with Jack loudly complaining that he needed to “scrub his brain” and Luke casually texting a heart emoji to the Devils reporter, who replied:

Reporter: Tell Jack I’m buying him a drink. He deserves it for surviving that trauma.

Luke: I’ll tell him if he ever stops hyperventilating.

Across the country, Quinn tossed his phone onto the coffee table, muttering under his breath: “My brothers are idiots. Complete, absolute idiots.”

He smiled anyway.

Family was chaos. But it was their chaos.

[itspikamefan]

FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCK

Spoilers under the cut

I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN! OUT OF ALL 3 TRIO MEMBERS! AND ALL THE GODDAMN TRAPS! God fucking dammit... Oh Mai my beloved Daughter... You deserved so much better (Atleast you got your Student Interview?) ...Regardless, we have a case to solve, and despite what it may seem, I believe we may 8 suspects this time. We'll go in order from most to least suspicious

Yanagi Shigeki: The only student that I think is completely outright innocent despite not appearing in the Body Discovery. Minus the fact he was trapped in the Medbay all night, he definitely would not have touched Mai to harm her in any form unless everything we know about Shigeki turns out to be a lie.

Tamba Ruiko: Again, very close to Mai, highly unlikely Tamba would intentionally or unintentionally hurt her. The only reason she's more suspicious that Takeshi is because she was not trapped or prevented from killing Mai. She did however, have a broken leg that would probably have made her useless against Mai. Not to mention she definitely wouldn't have set all those traps just to set off her own paranoia. So she's cool.

Ojima Takeshi: While I did heavily suspect him this chapter, and last trial, I do believe Ojima is MOST likely innocent? There is a still a possibility that Drunk-jima (AKA Maybe Ojima's alternate zoned out self) is responsible for this entire event. However, since a Killer can not trigger their own body discovery... I'm opting to believe Ojima is innocent. In that regard.

Wada Masanari: Slightly more suspicious than Ojima as he was rarely seen for large periods at a time and was seen briefly by Tamba entering and exiting the Arsenal for some unknown reason. However, considering how small he is and how big he would need to be to get the job done, not to mention he was the other person to discover the body, Im opting to believe Wada is innocent.

And now our Final 4, all of whom I believe are most likely equally suspicious so I'm not going to rule any of them out. But still, I'm going to rank them on my own personal list regardless

Hiroaki Nakamigawa: Was missing for the longest amount of time, was sup-ed up on drugs that would've given him the courage to fight Mai, had knowledge on the Arsenal's weaponry, and has been actively itching to get out and end the game. He's the least suspicious of the most suspicious though, considering he was actively sick from being poisoned by the coffee and he was VERY active across the Investigation. Then again, it could all just be an act to set us off from him so Im still keeping an eye on him.

Hasegawa Ken: The most suspicious amongst the students in my opinion, so if my other theories do fall through THIS MAN is my primary suspect. Definitely would've used the Arsenal to grab what weapons he could. Had been studying people and could have predicted their patterns, is one of the few students who likely knows about the camera, and just generally has been very suspicious this whole time. Now of course, this is all provided my other two theories (Which I think are both likely) are false. However, for the mean time, if there is a student Killer, I'm placing my bets on our Ultimate Quiz Show Contestant.

Down to the final 2 and neither of them is any of the remaining alive students! In all honesty, I think both of them have likely possibilities, considering we've reached the endgame of the Killing Game. However, as for which one I think is MORE likely, well... I'll save that one for later

Theory #1: Hayashi Mai Sacrifice

I think there is a very very strong possibility that Mai killed herself ala Suicide in order to finally end the Killing game. That wouldn't explain a lot of the missing evidence, but then again it's possible that the staff intervened to make it LOOK like a murder, which is why the entire school is so clean of evidence. "But Mai was stabbed all the way through!" I hear you say? Well, if you remember back to Feudal Japan, Samurai had a particular method of Seppuku they would do to ensure they would not bring dishonor upon their family... A single sword directly to the stomach, piercing all the way through... Sound familiar? Now, I do think Mai is also not stupid and didn't set all those bomb traps up for her classmates... Especially since she took most of the brunt herself... Which brings to the more likely theory

Theory #2: Staff Interference

We're getting to the end game, people are freaking out, and Yonekura needs her results for the first killing game... So... What does she do? She has one of her staff kill Hayashi Mai. If she can rig the game so that no students would be allowed to leave the school alive, then her research would still mostly remain true and she could move on to the next killing game no problem. This works especially considering her and Yonekura planned for EVERY student to go missing permanently. Not to mention the entire Arsenal being emptied out could have only been done by someone that had some place to hide it. And since the students never found any of the Bombs or Swords used in the Murder... I have a pretty good guess as to who would have had the time to take it all.

So my current top theories is either Hayashi killed herself, The staff killed Mai, or Hasegawa killed Mai. At the end of this post I'm leaning towards 2 and 3, maybe even with a sort of mix? But regardless this case is fucked, Hayashi deserved to live, Von you were incredible as both her voice actor and director of this series... And YEAH. I'll see you all at the final trial. PEACE!!!