#but basically the average book in this series is like.

[drosophilid]

i should clarify that john dies at the end was really bad like even with my 13 year old literacy level it annoyed me a lot. but i do sometimes wonder if the random meat horror + train of consciousness narration book inspired my bad story pacing today

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: Love Triangles and Royal Rumbles - Leona Kingscholar x Reader

When you get isekai'd as the male lead in the novel where your favorite character, Leona Kingscholar is the second male lead, all that's left to do is rewrite the romance!

Series Masterlist

You're just an average person, doing normal human things like eating, sleeping, and, of course, staring at your poster of Leona Kingscholar for three hours straight. Totally healthy behavior. People have hobbies, right? Some knit, some jog, and you…? You defend your fictional lion husband from slander on the internet. You’re practically a digital knight in shining armor.

The story that has consumed your very soul? Oh, just your typical Cliché Villainess Academy Novel: Revenge Edition™. The plot is so by-the-book, it’s basically a war crime against creativity. Female lead? She’s been in love with the male lead since he gave some boring welcome speech that apparently hit her so hard, her brain rewired itself into a romantic mess.

The villainess? Obviously in love with the male lead too, but her one and only goal in life is making the heroine’s existence a never-ending trainwreck of public embarrassment. And the male lead? Sweet summer child. He just wants to get his degree and avoid eye contact with all of these lunatics.

Enter: Leona Kingscholar, the second male lead. The man, the myth, the walking sarcasm machine. He’s there purely to fuel jealousy in everyone else’s love story, but for you? He’s everything. The brooding, lazy, hot second male lead who rolls his eyes at every plot point like he’s just as done with this novel as you are. He has better things to do, like nap, but here he is, dragged into this mess by proximity.

If it were up to you, he and the male lead would run off together, leave the heroine and villainess to start their own hobby club about emotional devastation, and the two guys would live happily ever after in matching beach chairs somewhere.

But no. Instead, you’re stuck reading about her fawning over him while Leona is just… there. Existing. The only thing keeping your interest alive.

And now? Now, your loyalty to Leona Kingscholar is about to pay off. The fan event of the century is just days away. It’s going to be glorious. A whole day dedicated to Leona—merch, fan contests, life-sized cardboard cutouts (which, let’s be honest, you’re ready to risk it all for). You've cleared your schedule, mentally prepared yourself for the inevitable squealing, and created a battle plan for acquiring the best merch before everyone else.

But fate? Fate’s cruel.

You’re casually defending Leona’s honor online as usual, battling some no-name troll who dares to claim that the male lead is "better written." (HA! You laugh in their wrong face.) But then—what’s this? A an likes your tweet about Leona! And not just any author. THE ONE YOU LOVE. The serotonin shoots through you like an adrenaline shot straight to the brain.

Your heart’s racing. You’re vibrating at a frequency only dogs can hear. You leap out of your chair like some majestic gazelle—or at least that’s what you tell yourself as you promptly trip over the plushie army that guards your floor.

Before you know it, you’re tumbling, body flailing like a noodle, bouncing down the stairs in what feels like slow motion. The world spins. Your merch shelves mock you from the distance. You land at the bottom in a heap, your soul floating just above your body.

"Is this… how it ends?" you wheeze, gasping for breath, more in shock than pain. As your vision starts to fade, all you can think is: I never made it to the Leona event….

And with that, you die. Crushed under the weight of fandom.

You wake up, and your first thought isn’t the usual, “Oh, I’ve been isekai’d into a new world, how fascinating, I’ll have time to adjust in a moment of peace and reflection.” No. You wake up and it hits you like a brick: Oh no. Female lead.

But then, a beam of hope breaks through the clouds of despair and shines down on you like a heavenly spotlight: Wait. Leona Kingscholar is here.

Before you can even revel in the thought of being in the same universe as your broody lion crush, reality smacks you upside the head. Loud voices are pulling you back to the scene unfolding right in front of your very eyes.

You blink. Hold on. This is not a bedroom, and this is definitely not a private moment to gather your thoughts like in every other isekai novel. Oh no, you’ve been thrown directly into the group project scene.

You know, the one where the villainess is sharpening her claws on the heroine while Leona watches from the sidelines like he’s two seconds away from a permanent nap? Yeah, you’re smack in the middle of it.

The villainess, looking as pissed off as usual, is glaring daggers at the trembling heroine, who is staring at you with those wide, teary eyes like you’re supposed to swoop in and save her from this verbal smackdown.

And that’s when it hits you: you’re the male lead. The original goody-two-shoes, justice-loving male lead who always stepped in to defend the heroine. The one who got suckered into every cliché moment, complete with sparkles and heroic speeches about morality and blah blah blah.

Not you, though.

You take one look at the heroine. She’s giving you this look like you’re her knight in shining armor, expecting you to throw yourself in front of her and deliver some dramatic monologue about kindness and decency. And you? You're mentally checking out of this scene faster than the speed of light.

Nah. You’re not about that life.

Your gaze drifts to Leona, sitting on the far side of the room, slouched over like he’s wondering why he’s being subjected to this emotional soap opera when he could be napping. His face screams "done," and honestly? Same. He meets your gaze, eyes half-lidded and bored, probably hoping you’ll do the usual male lead routine and put an end to this nonsense.

But oh no, today’s different.

You casually stroll over to where Leona is sitting, ignoring the drama unfolding behind you. With the swagger of someone who knows exactly what they’re about to do is going to blow some minds, you hold out your hand to him. "So, uh… you want to ditch this disaster and go take a nap? Or maybe raid the kitchens? I’m thinking we play hooky and pretend this never happened."

Leona’s eyes flicker with surprise for half a second. The male lead? The goody-two-shoes-moral-compass of the entire plot? The guy who literally lived to stop drama in its tracks? Is offering to blow off this whole mess? He raises an eyebrow, smirking like the cat who caught the canary.

"Didn’t think you had it in you," Leona drawls, but you can tell he’s already down for this. "Alright. Let’s go. If anyone asks, I’m gonna say you dragged me out."

"Deal," you say, trying not to look too smug. And with that, you turn on your heel, and with Leona at your side, you head for the door, leaving behind a shell-shocked villainess and a teary-eyed heroine who’s probably still processing the fact that her supposed knight in shining armor just dipped.

As you and Leona stroll out, you hear the villainess mutter, “What… just happened?” and you can’t help but grin. You may have just turned the plot upside down, but at least you’re doing it in style.

"Hey, Leona," you say, nudging him, "think we can find some of those fancy desserts in the kitchen? I’m starving."

Leona snorts, shoving his hands into his pockets. "If you’re buying, sure."

And just like that, the male lead and the second male lead walk off into the sunset—or rather, the campus courtyard—hand in hand with a new mission: Avoiding all future plot nonsense at all costs.

You’re not sure how you got here, staring at the over-the-top ball decorations like you’ve stepped into a bargain bin fairytale, but hey, life has taken a weird turn lately. You, of all people, are living out the plot of a novel so cliché it makes your head hurt.

But you guess that’s what happens when you get isekai’d into a second-rate villainess story. The only thing missing is a glass slipper and some woodland creatures to sing with.

And of course, surprise! The ball isn’t just some casual evening of sipping punch and avoiding the villainess’s death stares. No, if you don’t nail the ball, you don’t graduate. Because nothing says "academic achievement" like knowing how to waltz while dressed like a background character from Bridgerton.

So here you are, in ball lessons, where everyone is nervously pairing off while you’re trying not to roll your eyes into another dimension. The heroine, with her usual doe-eyed sparkle, gets paired with you first. And let’s be real: she’s either terrible at dancing, or she’s using this as an excuse to get you to hold her close.

But you? Oh no. You’ve read enough of this garbage to know where that’s going, and you have zero interest in playing out the “close embrace, sparks flying, almost-kiss” trope. Absolutely not.

As soon as the music starts, you decide it’s time to act. You let your feet stumble—deliberately, of course—and flail around like you’ve never seen a ballroom floor in your life. The heroine, bless her clueless heart, giggles like she thinks you’re just being cute, but you’re not about to humor this. When the instructor’s eyes lock onto you, you seize the opportunity.

"Oh no!" you say dramatically, throwing a hand over your forehead like you’re in some kind of soap opera. "I’m so bad at this. Could someone please teach me how to dance?"

You pause, glance around the room, and then lock eyes with Leona Kingscholar.

"Leona!" you shout, loud enough that the whole room freezes. "You’re the second prince! You must’ve had etiquette lessons, right? Teach me how to dance!"

The room collectively loses its mind. The heroine looks like you’ve just slapped her with a glove and challenged her to a duel. The villainess is staring at you like you’ve lost your marbles. And Leona? Leona’s expression is somewhere between utter confusion and why me.

Leona leans back, crossing his arms, visibly annoyed. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he mutters, but there’s no denying the faint twitch of a smirk at the corner of his mouth when he sees the heroine and villainess get shoved into an awkward dancing pair together.

Despite his clear irritation, Leona steps forward, because let’s face it, he’s the kind of guy who’ll humor you if it means avoiding worse drama. You slide into position with him, and honestly? You’re in heaven. You can barely focus on your feet, too busy trying to hide your grin while you imagine all the drama this is causing behind you.

Meanwhile, the heroine and the villainess are floundering around, tripping over each other like they’ve got two left feet each. The villainess is grinding her teeth, and the heroine keeps stepping on her toes. It’s a glorious disaster.

Leona, despite his annoyance, is surprisingly good at this. He’s leading with the kind of effortless grace that makes you wonder how someone so lazy can still be so competent at everything. You’re definitely not staring at his sharp features while he dances, not at all.

"You do realize this is a waste of time, right?" Leona grumbles under his breath, his eyes flicking to the chaos unfolding behind you. "Why me, herbivore? You could’ve asked anyone else."

You just shrug, trying not to sound too smug. "What can I say? I have excellent taste in dance partners."

Leona’s brow twitches like he’s torn between smirking and rolling his eyes. "Yeah, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night." But the smirk wins out, especially when the villainess and heroine fumble yet again, nearly toppling over each other.

You glance up at him, beaming. Leona Kingscholar might be annoyed, but he’s not stopping anytime soon. And you? You’re just here for the ride, watching the heroine and villainess self-destruct from the safety of Leona’s arms.

Ball lessons? Piece of cake.

You’ve been doing everything humanly possible to avoid the female lead like she’s a carrier of the medieval plague. You thought you’d be safe here, hiding behind your “I’m too busy and mysterious for romance” persona, but no—somehow—the more you avoid her, the more she’s convinced that you’re the dark, brooding, irresistible male lead she’s always dreamed of.

You know, the type who avoids emotional connections but secretly harbors a heart of gold. But the truth is, you’re just a guy trying to get through the day so you can swoon over Leona Kingscholar in peace.

It’s not like you’ve been subtle about it either. You’ve been dropping hints left and right, hoping the universe would give you a break and let the female lead fall in love with literally anyone else. But no. Somehow, everyone is ignoring your very obvious affection for Leona.

It’s like you’re stuck in a tragic comedy where the female lead falls harder for you the more you try to disappear, and Leona just… well, he’s just living his best life, completely unaware of your internal screaming.

Take the latest tea party, for example. You were just trying to enjoy some pastries, maybe steal a glance at Leona from across the table, when the heroine decides to make her move. She picks up a delicate slice of cake and holds it out to you, eyes sparkling with that innocent-yet-hopeful look that says, “This is our moment.”

You? You’re not having any of that. Nope. No way. You’re not about to be part of this rom-com narrative. So, without missing a beat, you casually take the cake from her and, in one smooth motion, turn and offer it to Leona, who’s lounging lazily next to you, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

Leona raises an eyebrow at you, clearly baffled by why you’re holding out cake like he’s some sort of royal who expects to be hand-fed. “What are you doing?” he mutters, looking suspiciously between you and the cake.

“Just thought you’d like some,” you say with a straight face, ignoring the heroine’s stunned expression. She’s sitting there, fork still poised in the air, blinking rapidly like you’ve just committed the greatest betrayal of the century.

Leona huffs, looking mildly irritated but mostly confused. After a pause, he shrugs and leans forward, taking a bite of the cake without even bothering to lift his own hand. “Whatever,” he mutters between chews. “Tastes fine.”

You nod, satisfied. Meanwhile, the heroine looks like she’s on the verge of tears, and the villainess is smirking in the background like she’s about to take out popcorn and enjoy the drama.

Later that day, you find a nice, quiet spot under a tree to relax. You’ve managed to avoid any major incidents so far, and for once, you’re not being dragged into some dramatic showdown. You lie back, close your eyes, and just let yourself chill. But, of course, the universe doesn’t want you to have peace.

Enter Leona.

Without a word, he flops down next to you, takes one look at your position, and decides—out of all the places he could sit—that your lap is the best pillow option available. You feel his head plop down on your lap like this is the most normal thing in the world. You stare down at him, completely dumbfounded, while he just closes his eyes and lets out a long, satisfied sigh.

“Leona?” you start, voice half bewildered, half amused. “You good?”

“Shut up,” he mutters without opening his eyes. “You’re more comfortable than the grass.”

You blink at him, not sure whether to laugh or cry. Meanwhile, the villainess strolls by, spots the two of you under the tree, and comes to an immediate halt. Her face contorts into a mix of disbelief and confusion, like she’s just witnessed something unholy. You can almost hear her mental scream of, what the hell is going on here?!

She doesn’t say anything, though. Just stands there, hands clenched, before turning on her heel and storming off. You don’t even care. You’re too busy reveling in the fact that Leona chose your lap as his personal resting place. If that isn’t a win, you don’t know what is.

And then, of course, there’s the infamous hallway incident. The heroine—who, by this point, you’re pretty sure has developed some kind of radar for finding you—comes running toward you. She trips over something (the air? her own foot? you don’t know) and launches herself straight into your arms in what is clearly an attempt to trigger some rom-com, slow-motion embrace.

But you? You’re not here for this.

With the reflexes of a seasoned avoider, you sidestep her dramatic fall, and she goes face-first into the floor. There’s a stunned silence as she lies there, unmoving, probably processing how she ended up eating dirt.

You glance over at Leona, who’s watching the whole thing with a lazy smirk, clearly enjoying the trainwreck. You give him a slight nod of approval, and he just rolls his eyes, a small grin still tugging at his lips.

The villainess, standing a few feet away, is laughing her head off. She’s doubled over, clutching her stomach, while the heroine’s dignity is scattered all over the floor. But you? You’re just staring at Leona, completely ignoring the chaos around you.

Somehow, despite all the madness, you can’t help but think: this is fine.

The day of the big spelldrive match arrives, and the heroine has never looked more confident in her life. She’s decked out in her team’s colors, standing tall at the edge of the field, waiting for you to join her in your usual spot. You know, like a loyal dog. A loyal, obedient dog who always does what she expects.

But not today.

Today, you roll up to the game decked out head to toe in full Savanaclaw merch. We're talking a custom jersey with Leona’s name on the back, a headband, face paint, and—just to really emphasize the point—a Savanaclaw banner tied around your neck like you’ve decided to cosplay as Captain Lion Fang.

You take your seat in the Savanaclaw section and immediately start hyping up the crowd like you’re getting paid for it. The heroine spots you from across the field and stares like she’s watching a crime scene unfold in real-time. Meanwhile, Leona’s already spotted you, and the smug smirk on his face tells you he’s LOVING the attention.

The game kicks off, and with each goal Leona scores, you’re going feral.

You’re screaming your lungs out, waving your banner around like you’re auditioning for some weird mascot gig. People are looking at you like you’ve lost your mind, but you don’t care. This is YOUR moment.

Leona, on the field, is living for it. Every time he glances your way, he adds a little extra flair to his plays, just to make you scream louder. He scores, and you’re on your feet, jumping up and down like you’ve won the lottery.

At this point, the heroine is practically catatonic. Her world is crumbling before her eyes. You can practically see her brain struggling to process what she’s witnessing: you, her loyal supporter, decked out in Savanaclaw gear and cheering for her rival.

“I... I don’t understand…” she whispers, her voice trembling like she’s been betrayed by the universe itself. “Why aren’t you cheering for us?”

You turn to her with all the nonchalance of someone who’s just ordered fries at a drive-thru. “Uh… Leona’s hot?”

It’s like you slapped her across the face with a wet fish. She stands there, frozen, her eyes wide, like she’s witnessing the fall of an empire. "B-But... you're supposed to support me!"

Before you can reply with another devastating truth bomb, Leona casually strolls over after winning the game, looking like he just walked out of a perfume ad. His hair’s tousled, a thin sheen of sweat making him look even more annoyingly handsome. He stops in front of you, smirking like he’s been planning this moment his entire life.

"Didn’t know you were my biggest fan," he drawls, voice low and lazy. “Gotta say, I’m impressed with your enthusiasm. Screamin’ my name like that… kinda hard to ignore.”

You open your mouth, ready to fire back with something witty, but what comes out is more of a high-pitched squeak, followed by, “Hahaha, Y-Yeah… you’re welcome?”

And then, the words that break you: “How ‘bout we celebrate with a nap?”

Your brain freezes. A nap? You? With Leona? Your heart is doing cartwheels while the rest of your organs are busy melting into a puddle. Your mouth is moving, but all that comes out is an unintelligible “Uhhuhmm.”

Leona chuckles, clearly enjoying how flustered you are. He reaches out, grabbing your wrist, and starts dragging you off with him—right in front of everyone. He doesn’t even care that the entire field is watching. He’s already made up his mind.

The heroine, meanwhile, is standing there in stunned silence, her brain fully blue-screening as she watches you and Leona disappear. She’s still processing the Leona’s comment when the villainess, who has been observing this whole disaster unfold, finally chimes in from the sidelines with a shrug.

“Well, as long as it’s not the heroine,” she says, flicking her hair back with an air of satisfaction. “This is fine.”

And off you go, being dragged to a nap date you’re definitely not mentally prepared for, your face burning hotter than the sun. Leona glances back at you, that smug smirk still plastered on his face. "You’re lookin’ a little red there. You sure you’re up for this?"

You sputter, tripping over your own words. "I-I’m fine! Totally fine! Nap? Cool! Casual napping! No big deal!”

Leona just chuckles again, clearly entertained by how much you're floundering. “If you say so. Just don’t pass out before we get there.”

Yeah. Don’t pass out. Easier said than done when the man of your dreams is casually dragging you off to nap like it's no big deal while your brain screams at you in ten different languages.

This is fine. Totally fine. You’re fine.

Maybe.

You were sitting with Jack and Ruggie at the cafeteria, chatting about nothing in particular—well, Jack was chatting. Ruggie was there purely because you promised to pay for his lunch. Still, you’d like to think that maybe, just maybe, he stuck around because he actually enjoyed your company. Maybe.

“So, any tips on how to deal with midterms?” Jack asked, ears twitching as he looked at you with that wide-eyed eagerness that only first-years ever had. He was honestly like a giant puppy, trying so hard to be good.

You leaned back in your chair, doing your best impression of a wise and worldly senior, which mostly involved pretending you weren’t sweating about your own midterms. “My advice? Caffeine. And if you have the chance to sleep, take it. Oh, and don’t forget to eat. I learned that one the hard way.”

Jack nodded seriously, committing it all to memory like you were passing down sacred knowledge. Meanwhile, Ruggie was on his third helping of food, barely acknowledging the conversation.

"Hey, if you're handing out wisdom, how ‘bout you tell me how to get free food more often?” Ruggie said between bites, shooting you a cheeky grin.

“Isn’t that already your specialty?” you shot back, eyeing the mountain of food in front of him.

He just laughed. “Can’t argue with that, but having backup plans never hurt.”

Before you could respond, you felt a shadow fall over the table. You looked up, half expecting it to be the heroine or some random classmate, but nope. It was Leona. Leona, who you were 99% sure had skipped class because he always skips class. And he looked… annoyed?

Oh no.

He ignored Jack and Ruggie completely, his sharp gaze zeroing in on you like you’d committed some grave crime. “Oi, herbivore,” he drawled, hands in his pockets like this wasn’t weird at all. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” you asked, blinking up at him. Leona never approached people unless he wanted something.

“To the tree,” he said flatly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“The tree?” Jack echoed, ears perking up in confusion.

Ruggie, on the other hand, was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Oho~ Someone’s in demand.”

Leona shot Ruggie a look that could’ve curdled milk. “Shut it, Ruggie.”

Your brain was still trying to process the situation. You were sitting here, minding your own business, giving sage advice about caffeine and survival, and now Leona was dragging you off to his tree like it was completely normal?

He didn’t wait for an answer. He just grabbed your wrist, yanking you up from your seat as if this was some kind of kidnap situation, and started walking toward the courtyard.

“Uh—Leona? What’s going on?” you asked, doing your best to keep up without tripping over your own feet.

Leona didn’t even look back. “You’re talkin’ too much. Need some peace and quiet.”

You blinked, thoroughly confused but not necessarily mad about being dragged off. It’s just… “Why am I involved in your nap plans?”

“’Cause I said so.”

Wow, cryptic. You were about to ask again when you reached the tree. The infamous Leona nap spot. He plopped down against the trunk and, before you could protest, pulled you down next to him. Without another word, he stretched out and—because apparently boundaries didn’t exist—rested his head on your lap.

This was… This was happening.

You glanced around, half expecting to see a camera crew pop out and tell you this was some elaborate prank, but nope. Leona was lounging on you like it was the most natural thing in the world, eyes already closed, arms crossed behind his head.

“Uh, Leona?”

“Shut up. M’ tryin’ to sleep.”

You stared down at him, your brain short-circuiting. This was the third time this week he’d done this. Just… kidnapped you for a nap. What was his deal? Was your lap particularly comfortable? Did you radiate some kind of sleepy aura? What was going on here?

Meanwhile, from the distance, you spotted her. The villainess. Watching. For the third time in as many days. And you could see it. You could see the moment she put the pieces together. Her eyes widened in slow realization, her lips twitching into a smirk. She knew. She finally knew.

When Leona finally woke up—after what felt like hours of you sitting there, too dazed to move—you were free. For now. He stretched lazily and gave you a casual “Thanks,” as if this wasn’t the most bizarre situation you’d ever been in, and you quickly scrambled away, making your way back to the dorms with your head spinning.

And that’s when the villainess cornered you.

Oh no.

There she was, leaning against the doorframe with a knowing look, her sharp gaze trained on you like a predator sizing up its prey. You swallowed nervously. She was about to confront you about the heroine, wasn’t she? This was it. This was the moment. Was she going to declare some rivalry? Challenge you to a duel? Confess to you? Make this whole thing painfully awkward?

She smiled, and it was not the evil grin you were expecting. “I’m on your side.”

You blinked. “…What?”

She pushed off the wall, stepping closer, her eyes gleaming with a new kind of intensity. “Leona. I know you’re after him.”

Your heart stopped. This was it. She was going to call you out and—wait, what did she just say?

“I’ll help you confess to Leona,” she said, matter-of-factly. “On one condition.”

You were staring at her like she’d just sprouted wings and started speaking in tongues. “You… will?”

She nodded. “Yes. If you help me become more influential than that heroine, I’ll help you get Leona to notice you more.”

You blinked again, processing her words. She wanted your help to outshine the heroine, and in exchange, she’d be your wingwoman? Wingwoman?!

You grinned, holding out your hand for a dramatic shake. “Hell yeah.”

She clasped your hand, her smile mirroring yours. "Consider it a deal."

And just like that, you walked away from the most unexpected alliance of your life, fully equipped with a villainess-turned-wingwoman and a new plan to win over Leona.

Honestly? Life was getting weirder by the day.

“Okay, so just to confirm,” Ruggie’s eyes glinted with mischief as he leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head. “You want us to sit through this poetry reading,” he said, drawing out the word like it was some cursed phrase, “and cheer for the villainess. And in return, I get all the food left over?”

“Yup,” you nodded, trying to keep a straight face.

“And Jack’s here because…?”

“I asked him nicely.”

Jack shrugged, tail flicking behind him. “I’m just here to help.”

Ruggie snorted, glancing at you with a grin. “This better be some damn good poetry then. And the food better be worth it.”

“Oh, trust me,” you said, patting Ruggie on the back. “It will be.”

Little did you know, this was going to be a disaster of epic proportions.

The poetry reading started as expected—with the heroine striding up to the front of the room, practically glowing under the dim spotlight. She cleared her throat, clasped her hands dramatically, and began.

“It was a night… much like tonight…”

Your first instinct was to cringe, but you held it in, glancing sideways at Jack and Ruggie. Jack was doing his best to stay stoic, but you could see his ears twitching in discomfort. Ruggie had his hand over his mouth, clearly biting back laughter.

The poem continued, painfully dragging on about stars and roses and something about “destiny’s kiss.” By the time she reached the end, there was a collective sigh of relief from the audience. You weren’t even sure what you had just listened to, but you knew it wasn’t good.

Jack… Jack was crying. You stared at him, horrified. “Are you okay?”

“It’s… it’s so bad,” he sniffed, wiping his eyes. “I didn’t know poetry could be this bad.”

Ruggie had his face buried in his hands, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “This is better than I thought,” he wheezed.

You shot him a look, but even you had to admit, this was pure comedy gold. Poor Jack had no idea what hit him.

The villainess, bless her heart, was watching all of this unfold with a look of shock and confusion, but when it was finally her turn to read, she stepped up like a queen. Her voice was smooth, the words flowing like silk, and you couldn’t help but be genuinely impressed. She absolutely killed it.

The plan was working perfectly. You and your crew started clapping, cheering like you were at a rock concert. Jack, who was still recovering from the emotional trauma of the heroine’s poem, clapped too, albeit more quietly.

But just as you were about to get even louder, you felt a hand on your shoulder. “Oi, sit down,” Leona grumbled, pulling you back into your seat.

“What—?”

He didn’t offer any explanation, just kept you firmly seated next to him, his face set in a bored expression. You blinked in confusion but decided not to argue. It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy sitting next to Leona… it was just weird.

And by the grin the villainess was sporting, it seems like everything went exactly according to plan. Both for her and you.

After the poetry reading wrapped up, you gathered the leftovers like you promised. Ruggie was already hovering around, practically drooling over the spread.

“Here, take it all,” you said, handing the basket over. “Deal’s a deal.”

Ruggie beamed, clutching the food to his chest like a treasure hoard. “Pleasure doing business with ya!”

Jack was much more polite, bowing his head slightly. “Thanks for the notes. They’ll be a big help.”

“Anytime,” you replied with a smile, watching the two of them head off. Ruggie was already halfway through a sandwich, talking a mile a minute, while Jack followed along, still looking like he might need therapy after the heroine’s performance.

That left you alone… with Leona, who had been standing off to the side, arms crossed, watching you with an unreadable expression.

“What?” you asked, half-expecting him to complain about something. He always had something to complain about.

“You mind explaining what the hell that was?”

“Uh… what do you mean?”

Leona’s tail flicked in irritation, his eyes narrowing. “I’m talking about you, whispering and giggling with that villainess all the time. What, you after her now that you ditched the heroine?”

You blinked at him, utterly baffled. “What? No, of course not. Why would I be after her?”

Leona’s jaw clenched. “You tell me. All I’ve seen is you hangin’ around with her, whispering, plottin’... I’ve seen how you look at her.”

It took a moment for your brain to catch up, but then it hit you like a ton of bricks.

Oh my god. He was jealous.

A slow grin spread across your face as the realization sunk in. Leona, Leona Kingscholar, was jealous. And over you.

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “You’re jealous~.”

Leona froze, his eyes widening for a split second before narrowing dangerously. “What?”

“You’re jealous,” you repeated, giddiness bubbling up inside you. You could barely contain your excitement. “You’re jealous of me hanging out with the villainess!”

Leona’s lips pulled into a thin line. “You’re imagining things.”

“Oh no, no, no,” you grinned even wider, poking him in the chest. “You’re totally jealous!”

Leona growled, looking thoroughly annoyed now, but before he could snap back, you quickly explained. “Look, I made a deal with her. I help her become more influential than the heroine, and she helps me… confess to you.”

Leona blinked, taken aback, his tail flicking behind him as if processing the information. Then, in true Leona fashion, his expression shifted from irritation to smugness in record time.

“Oh?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Yeah, so you don’t have to worry about me chasing after anyone else.”

Leona stepped closer, his voice dropping low, that usual lazy drawl making your heart do a little flip. “Good. But just so you know, cheek kisses aren’t real kisses.”

Before you could ask what he meant, Leona leaned in and kissed you—properly kissed you. Your eyes went wide for a second before you melted into it, feeling the heat of his lips against yours. He pulled back after what felt like forever, a smirk on his face as he watched you try to catch your breath.

“There. That’s a real kiss,” he murmured, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

You stared at him, dazed, and then a sudden realization hit you.

You left your entire life behind, all for this moment.

And you were so, so glad that stupid plushie was on the floor, because this? This was totally worth it.

The heroine’s voice was as sweet as it was grating, like sugar poured directly into your ears. She fluttered her eyelashes at you, her smile stretched painfully wide. “So, I was thinking,” she began, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “You would make the perfect knight for my family! Don’t you think so?”

You blinked, trying to figure out a way to escape. “Uh… I’m kind of busy with, you know, my own life?”

“Oh, but imagine!” she gushed, not hearing a word you said. “We’d be so close all the time—like, so close. You could protect me, and maybe… we could have a picnic under the stars? Very romantic, right?”

Your soul was trying to leave your body. You were pretty sure Jack’s ears twitched somewhere nearby, sensing your pain telepathically. And then, like a gift from the heavens, the villainess—your beloved accomplice in all things anti-heroine—made her appearance.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, stepping between you and the heroine with the grace of someone who had seen this movie before and knew exactly how to cut to the good parts. “But I need them for an urgent matter. A very important, not-at-all-romantic-but-very-necessary mission.”

You shot her a look of pure gratitude, but before she could fully rescue you from the heroine’s death trap of unwanted flirting, a shadow loomed over the scene. A very familiar shadow.

Leona.

Without saying a word, he strode up behind you and casually wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you back against his chest with an ease that had your heart skipping a beat. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his sharp green eyes fixed on the heroine.

“Oh no, carry on,” he said lazily, but his tone was anything but. “I’m just here to see what my mate is up to.”

The heroine blinked in shock, her hands hovering mid-air as if she had no idea what to do with this development. “Y-Your mate?”

“Yeah,” Leona said, tightening his grip around you, his smirk downright feral. “So whatever little fantasy you’re cooking up about romantic picnics or whatever—cut it out. This one’s mine.”

You felt Leona’s lips brush against your temple before he leaned in and, in full view of the now-utterly-horrified heroine, kissed the side of your neck. Slowly. Possessively.

You could almost hear the villainess muffling a laugh behind her hand.

The heroine’s face turned several shades of red as she stammered. “B-But I—”

“You,” Leona said, his tone dripping with amusement, “can fuck right off.”

The heroine gasped, her hand flying to her chest like she’d been physically struck. “You can’t just say that to me!”

Leona raised a brow, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “I’m literally the second prince. I can say whatever the hell I want.”

The heroine opened her mouth to argue, but then realized that, no, actually, she couldn’t argue with the literal second prince staking his claim. She sputtered for a moment before storming off, no doubt to sob dramatically about her dashed romantic hopes.

Once she was out of sight, the villainess finally let out a snort of laughter. “That was beautiful.”

Leona ignored her, his grip still firm around you as he leaned down to whisper, “Next time, you won’t need her to help you out. Just say my name, and I’ll be there to deal with the pests.”

You stared at him, a little dazed from the whole whirlwind of possessiveness, public displays of affection, and telling someone to ‘fuck right off.’ “You really went for it, huh?”

Leona smirked, leaning in for another kiss. “Damn right I did. And don’t you forget it.”

Somewhere behind you, the villainess was still giggling. You were pretty sure this was going to be gossip for weeks.

But honestly? Totally worth it.

Graduation day—the moment where everyone’s future plans would be declared, and all the chess pieces would fall into place. Or, in your case, the moment where you’d cause absolute chaos.

The grand hall was filled with eager anticipation. Everyone was dressed in their formal graduation robes, students buzzing with excitement over their new titles and responsibilities.

Leona, as expected, lounged at the back like a lion who had better things to do, half-asleep. Villainess stood tall and composed, already plotting her return to her family's estate. Heroine was in full glowing mode, ready to take her place as the beloved of the Grand Duchy.

And you? You stood at the podium, trying not to laugh. You knew what you were about to say would flip this graduation upside down.

One by one, people made their announcements.

When it was finally your turn, all eyes turned to you. The entire hall seemed to hold its breath, knowing the original male lead—you—was supposed to be the retainer of the heroine. It was all set, all according to plan, right?

Wrong.

You cleared your throat, glanced briefly at Leona who smirked lazily, and then made the declaration that would throw this script straight out the window. “I’ve decided to serve as Prince Leona’s right-hand man, personal secretary, and...well, whatever he needs.”

The silence that followed was glorious. Pure, dumbfounded silence.

King Falena, sitting in the front row, visibly blinked. Once. Twice. He tilted his head slightly, confusion written all over his usually composed face. “What?” he muttered, looking like someone just told him a desert hyena had enrolled in ballet school.

Leona, however, didn’t even open his eyes. He just smirked, crossing his arms smugly. “Told ya he’d choose me,” he murmured, almost too casually for someone who’d just stolen the original male lead’s entire plotline.

Falena’s gaze flicked between you and Leona, still processing. Then, slowly, realization dawned. He saw that look on Leona’s face—the one that said “mine, and I dare anyone to challenge it.” King Falena’s confusion morphed into surprise and then, with the subtlety of a royal diplomat, resignation. “Oh…” he whispered, finally understanding. “He’s down bad.”

Leona cracked an eye open just to catch his brother’s expression and grinned wider, like a cat who knew exactly what kind of bird it had in its claws.

Your parents, bless them, were in the crowd with expressions of supportive confusion. Your mother was squinting as if trying to work out if this was some sort of royal prank. Your father leaned in toward her, whispering loudly enough for the entire row to hear, “It’s a royal job, right? That’s prestigious?”

“Yeah, but… Leona?” your mom whispered back.

At this point, the heroine stood up, ready to throw a wrench into the works. “Wait! You’re supposed to be my—"

Before she could finish, the villainess, in all her dramatic glory, made her move. With the grace of a queen and the audacity of a mastermind, she stepped right up to the heroine, flipped her luxurious hair, and said, “Actually, I was going to ask you out.”

You blinked. Wait, what?

The entire room gasped. You could almost hear heads snapping toward the villainess like a collective whip crack.

Heroine’s mouth opened and closed like she was a fish drowning in air. “I—what?”

“Dinner. Candlelight. Maybe a picnic. You and me, a date. Sound good?” The villainess winked with such charm that even the professors in the back were wide-eyed.

Heroine blinked rapidly, as if trying to reboot her brain. “Uh… sure?” she squeaked, still reeling from the fact that her entire romantic arc had just gotten hijacked.

You stared at the villainess in pure confusion. “What just happened?” you whispered, looking at her for an explanation.

The villainess simply turned to you with a mischievous grin, giving you a sly thumbs-up like this had been part of her master plan all along.

You were still processing the fact that you were witnessing the greatest plot twist of all time. You returned a half-hearted, bewildered thumbs-up, unsure if this was a win or not.

Meanwhile, the professors up front were clearly on their last thread of patience. The head of the academy rubbed his temples, sighing deeply as if this whole day had aged him a decade. “That’s it,” he said, voice strained with exhaustion. “Everyone’s graduated. Just...leave. Please.”

And with that, the ceremony abruptly ended. You couldn’t help but laugh at the professor’s exasperation as the crowd started to disperse, still buzzing with gossip.

Leona slid up next to you, his hand casually resting on your waist as you walked out of the hall together. “So, my right-hand man, huh?”

You shrugged. “Figured I might as well make it official.”

Leona smirked, leaning down to murmur in your ear, “Just don’t expect me to go easy on you.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

And then he kissed you. In front of everyone.

King Falena, witnessing this public display of territorial claims, just shook his head with a resigned sigh. “Well, as long as it’s official…” he muttered, casting an approving glance toward you. “Congratulations, I guess.”

Your parents were still in shock, but when they saw that it was a royal seal of approval, they immediately switched gears. “A royal job!” your mom whispered excitedly. “That’s so prestigious!”

With that, Leona tugged you away from the chaos, his arm never leaving your waist as you walked toward the exit. You glanced back one last time to see the heroine still staring blankly at the villainess, who had now looped her arm around her like it was the most normal thing in the world.

The head of the academy, now red in the face, shouted after you as you reached the door, “I SAID EVERYONE GO, FOR THE LOVE OF THE GREAT SEVEN!”

You walked out into the sunlight, trying not to laugh, while Leona leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he murmured smugly, “Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

It was a day like any other, except you were meeting the villainess in her newly acquired estate. She had officially taken over as the head of her family, and the new title suited her all too well. The whole place screamed, I am in charge, with a side of don’t even think about challenging me unless you want to cry in public. You admired the aesthetic.

The villainess greeted you with her usual regal flair, sweeping into the room like she’d been born to dominate it—which, to be fair, she had. She offered you tea, which you politely declined, sensing that this wasn’t just a casual catch-up.

"So, what's new with you, Lady Villainess?” you asked, leaning back, fully expecting some grand declaration about her political conquests or business victories.

She smiled—a dangerous, knowing smile that made you immediately suspicious. "Well, I wanted to tell you something rather... unexpected."

You raised an eyebrow. Unexpected? Coming from her? That had to be good.

"I'm dating the heroine," she said casually, sipping her tea as if she hadn't just dropped the biggest plot twist since the whole 'villainess takes over' arc.

You nearly choked on absolutely nothing, mouth hanging open in sheer disbelief. "Wait. What?"

She smiled serenely, her expression the perfect picture of innocence—which made it all the more ridiculous. “Yes, darling. The heroine and I are officially a couple.”

You blinked. “The same heroine who couldn’t tell a poisoned apple from a regular one if her life depended on it?”

“The very same.”

“The one who gets lost in her own estate if she turns too many corners?”

“Yes, that one.”

You couldn't help it. The sheer absurdity of the situation hit you, and you burst out laughing. "Oh, that is rich. How in the world did that happen?”

The villainess leaned back, looking thoroughly pleased with herself. “Oh, it was simple, really. I realized I was always drawn to her... naiveté. And once I stopped trying to sabotage her every move, well, things just fell into place.”

You were still laughing, shaking your head in disbelief. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you two, but this is the best thing I’ve heard in weeks.”

The villainess gave you a mock glare. “Don’t act so surprised. I’ve always had impeccable taste.”

“Oh, impeccable taste, huh?” you teased. “I just didn’t expect it to lead you straight to a walking ball of sunshine.”

“Well, someone needs to keep her from wandering into traffic.”

Still snickering, you stood up. “Alright, alright, I get it. You’re a saint for dealing with her.”

“I know,” she sighed dramatically, “but love makes us do ridiculous things.”

"Tell me about it," you muttered, still amused. You waved goodbye and promised to catch up later, your mind reeling from this new, absolutely hilarious development.

When you got back to the palace, you found Leona lounging in his usual spot, sprawled out on a couch like a lion that had just taken over the whole savannah. He barely glanced up as you walked in, already sensing the amused energy radiating off you.

“You’re grinning like an idiot,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “What happened?”

You plopped down next to him, barely containing your laughter. “You won’t believe this. The villainess is dating the heroine now.”

Leona’s eyes flicked open, and for a split second, he looked like he didn’t believe you. Then, slowly, a smirk spread across his face as he processed the information. “You’re messing with me.”

“Nope. Dead serious. They’re a couple now. In love.” You leaned in, grinning. “The villainess—ice queen herself—is head over heels for Miss Pure Sunshine.”

Leona actually chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well, I’ll be damned. Never saw that one coming.”

“I know, right? It’s the most chaotic thing ever, and I am living for it.”

Leona’s smirk turned into a full-on grin, which was rare enough to be considered a national treasure. He shifted, sitting up slightly. “You think we’ll get an invite to the wedding?”

You snorted. “Oh, you bet. I’m going to be front row just to see how she manages to keep the heroine from accidentally setting her own dress on fire.”

Leona’s laugh rumbled low in his chest, and he reached out, grabbing your wrist. “Come here,” he ordered, tugging you toward him.

“What? No, I’ve got work to do,” you protested weakly, but your protests didn’t mean much when he effortlessly pulled you into his lap.

“Work can wait. This is more important,” he grumbled, wrapping his arms around you in a possessive hug that made it very clear you weren’t going anywhere.

You sighed, leaning into him. “You just want to cuddle, don’t you?”

“I want you to stop running around and actually relax for once,” he retorted, resting his chin on top of your head. “Besides, it’s not like the kingdom’s gonna fall apart if we take a break.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “I should get a promotion. I’m basically doing all the work around here.”

Leona chuckled again, his grip tightening just slightly. “Yeah, well, don’t let Falena hear that. He might actually make you his advisor, and then I’ll never get any alone time with you.”

You snorted. “Oh please, you’d just kidnap me from work if that happened.”

“Damn right,” he muttered, his voice low and satisfied. “You’re mine, remember?”

You felt your heart do that annoying flutter thing as Leona’s possessive tone settled over you. Even when he was being a lazy lion, he made you feel like the most important thing in his life. It was comforting—and kind of hilarious, considering how little he cared about everything else.

The room fell into a comfortable silence, and for once, you actually allowed yourself to relax, leaning into Leona’s warmth. His arms tightened around you again, and you could feel the soft rise and fall of his chest as he started to drift off into a nap, his grip never loosening.

As you closed your eyes, you couldn’t help but think that, despite all the absurdities in your life—from slipping on a plushie to your best friend falling in love with her former rival—you wouldn’t trade any of it. Not for the world.

And as Leona’s breath slowed into the steady rhythm of sleep, you allowed yourself a small, contented smile.

Life was chaotic. But it was also perfect.

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

Idia won the previous poll! Now for the next,

[elexuscal]

Bi-Ace Laurence and Aro Roland

Okay so a few weeks ago I made a comment about viewing Jane Roland/Laurence as queer, and @sere-allwehaveisnowasked me to dig into it. This is a slightly cleaned up version of the ramble I gave on the Temeraire discord, just on the off-chance folks from the broader fandom might find it interesting!

So I can see how that description of Laurence/Roland might seem surprising at a first glance! They're an M/F pair, and obviously that lends itself to a very traditional heterosexual reading. But that's not the only possible reading, at all!

"Queer" is a catchall term and an umbrella term, which means there has been a lot of quibbling over what exactly 'counts' is queer. "Is X queer?" is a Discourse repeated ad nauseam; replace X with 'ace people', 'aro people', 'polyamorous people', 'kinksters', 'furries', etc.... It gets really hard to draw firm lines. Which is why I generally subscribe to te definition of queer as "anything which transgresses the social norms in the broadly overlapping space of sexuality, romance, and gender" So on a base level, you have the fact that in the time and setting of the Temeraire series, Jane Roland is breaking So Many gender norms. She's a soldier, masculine, heavier set and with facial scarring. Under some more flexible definitions of queer, almost any sexual and/or romantic relationship she entered into would be inherently queer due to how she transgresses the boundaries. That said, while I do find something compelling there, that alone isn't really why I see Jane/Will as queer, since while Roland might be transgression within the text, to the average 21st century reader, she's not nearly so shocking.

For me, it's much more about how Laurence/Roland fits much much more into broader queer readings of both their characters, notably the bi (and to a lesser extent, ace) experience for Laurence, and the aromantic reading for Roland.

I very much do read Laurence as a bisexual guy who never really realised he was bisexual, partly because his attraction genders were fairly equal, and both fairly low. In book one, he doesn't really seem personally that attracted to the idea of a traditional marriage-- it's just sort of What One Does, and he does like the idea of the companionship a marriage with offer. He's friends with Edith, their engagement makes sense, and he doesn't have any other option that's more appealing, so... Why not? But equally, while he's disappointing to lose that future, he's not heartbroken either.

Specifically, I think what attracts Laurence is military competence. (Or maybe not quite military per say, but certainly something adjacent. Being in the field, getting your hands dirty). And he'd never really twigged to that because... All the women he had met until then were Society Ladies(tm). They were divorced from that entire sphere. And sure, Laurence saw it in men, but he didn't read it as sexual attraction, he just read it as admiration. (It can be hard to untangle the difference!)

But then he meets Jane. Who is feminine while also masculine. A woman who displays all these elements of military competence that Laurence is foremost drawn to. And I really do think that's the Rosetta stone for realising his attraction to men.

I also think there's a really great ace reading of him getting back together with Jane for LoD? Not just that he apparently hadn't had any sex for the previous 3.5 books; that could equally be attributed to his depression and social isolation. But it's the way that encounter has less to do with him craving sex specifically, or craving romance, as him feeling the joy and relief of having regained Jane's trust.

As for Roland... Man I read her as aro, so bad. I can absolutely see the reading where she isn't inherently/naturally disinclined to romance, but basically taught herself to repress her desire for the sake of her career. And that's definitely compelling. But I see so much of someone who just doesn't really care about romance, doesn't really get what everyone else sees in it, and is just going to carry on without it.

And I just love that Roland/Laurence continues throughout the entire series, but doesn't end with them getting married and having kids or anything like that. They have this great fiends with benefits situation which is genuinely SO refreshing.

All of this I think dovetails deeper into my feelings about queerness in the Temeraire series as a whole. These books were published in a time where there was a huge push for greater gay representation (one we're still living through now), and I believe that was a big part of the analysis. And indeed, I think it's fair to examine and ask why there wasn't more of an explicit M/M representation in the story. But at the same time, a question I often grapple with as an a-spec person, is how do you depict the more 'subtle' queer identities? Especially ones like asexuality and aromanticism, which are defined by a lack of something? Especially in historical fiction, where it would be deeply weird to have the characters use modern terminology and bust out some pride flags. And I don't know if any of this was Novik's intentions or not; to a large extent, I don't care. But I do think there's a lot of stuff in this narrative that resonates with a lot of bi, asexual, and aromantic experiences, and that's really interesting to analyse.

[moonpedri]

matching.

summary: though it was spontaneous, you decide to tag along to ibiza when your best friend and her boyfriend invite you. the only problem was his little brother, barcelona's number 8, pedri, and his red swim shorts.

pairing: pedri x reader

genre: fluff, smut (suggestive)

warnings: making out, petting, swearing, pedri is a little shit

word count: 3.2k+

a/n: i orginally had this planned as a little imagine. if you've read honey, you may remember a beach scene being mentioned very briefly. and since i recently got a similar request, i fleshed everything a little more out and birthed out this big baby lmao. hope you enjoy!!🤍

PS: while proof-reading i noticed that i completely messed up the timelines, this fic actually happens before honey and not after, but oh well. 😭 this is super annoying but i liked the way this fic turned out so deal with it pls 🥺i may turn this into a little ibiza trip series with multiple parts and other places!!

────────────

It is the middle of summer and the sun was blazing unforgivingly over you that not even your sunshade could help you escape from the heat.

You look at your friends over the rim of your sunglasses, as some of them currently play around in the water. The radio stations all reported well above average numbers for the coming weeks and so naturally your friends would want to go on vacation somewhere near the beach.

Originally you had nothing special planned for the summer, but since your best friend Sofía is dating Fernando González, who just happens to be the older brother of Pedri González, Barcelona's young star-midfielder, you somehow happened to get dragged along to Ibiza.

This wasn't a rare occasion, because ever since Sofía started dating Fernando, you ended up with this whole new lifestyle consisting of football matches, special events, galas and travel.

And with FC Barcelona winning LaLiga and the season ending, all the players want to make the most off their freetime.

"Fer wants to book the tickets, __, you're coming with, right?", Sofía asked you last week. It was super spontaneous and honestly you were a bit annoyed that you got asked so late, giving you no time to prepare or clear your schedule (not that you had much written on it anyways lol)

But you would also lie if the idea of going to Ibiza didn't excite you. You always wanted to go to the infamous "party" island, but it was a costy dream - one you couldn't afford. Well, until now.

So you agreed and found yourself only 5 days later at your dream destination. One of the perks of having a friend like Sofía is that with trips like these, you didn't have to pay a cent. As a close friend, the whole thing basically got financed for you. Only shopping expenses and maybe food you had to cover yourself - of course.

The single downside of it all was the fiancier of it all himself: Pedri.

Ironic, right?

But there was no way you couldn't feel that way towards him. He is simply infuriating. When the two of you were introduced to each other over dinner at their home, Pedri wasted no time trying to subtly smooth his way into your pants.

It was almost unnoticeable to be honest and you know no one paid attention, but you did. You noticed how his arm brushed your shoulder, how his hand grabbed your waist when he wanted to move past you and his hips grazed your ass. It seemed like his eyes were glued to your cleavage and somehow no one took notice.

In his defense though, you weren't a saint either. Where he pulled, you just let yourself get tugged along. When he moved past, you purposely arched your back; just to test the waters and pushed out your chest to maybe rile him up a bit; you don't know really.

There was something entertaining about an attractive guy like Pedri showing his interest for you so blatantly and pursuing you in such a secretive way.

Yet for all it's worth, you never went further than touching and looking, sneaking a kiss here and there. It's clear what type of guy Pedri is, if all the buzz around his rather promiscuous love life, filled with influencers and models, is any indication.

You heard what people said, what the articles reported. Pedri is young, rich and successful, he would be a fool to immediately pursue a serious relationship at that stage in his life. He liked to enjoy life, be wild in his early 20s and keep the monogamy for later.

And it's not like you could blame him, honestly. You're sure that if your roles were switched, you would enjoy his lifestyle too to an extent. You are you though.

And you wanted something serious, someone to treat you with respect and loyalty. Surely, Pedri saw you more as a way of passing time, just having his fun with you. But you had enough self-respect to not give in to his troublsome ways.

Also, you barely had the nerves to put up with all that.

That's what you liked to tell yourself at least.

With a sigh you turn your head to where Sofía suddenly sits up. You're about to close your eyes again, ready to fall under the sun's mercy, when you hear your best friend scoff next to you.

You bring your sunglasses up and follow her sight. "Can you fucking believe that?", she says agitated.

A loud giggle errupts and you watch as two girls talk animatedly with both Fernando and Pedri.

The brunette one subtly scratches over Fernando's arm, as she seems to listen intently to whatever he's saying. Fer doesn't really engage her, keeps his visible distance, though Sofía doesn't seem to care. Her eyes shoot daggers in their direction.

What bothers you though was the blonde one clinging like a koala onto Pedri. She seems so....you can't find the word but it irritates you. And he did absolutely nothing about it, actually rather enjoying it. Not that he shouldn't of course, but he could keep his distance as well. Also, you didn't want to have to deal with two horny people during your vacation (one you didn't pay for but you get the gist), and an angry best friend, if they were to stay.

It also doesn't help that Pedri looks the way he does. Absolutely gorgeous.

You never thought to be admitting to this but he almost looks like sex-on-legs in those red swim shorts of his. The sun burned his skin in the most beautiful way possible, accentuating his natural blush and his slim but toned body. It's been nothing but torture the entire day.

The two of you watch them for another minute, none of the brothers noticing any of your hard stares, when Sofía stands up determined. "If he wants to play, I'll play."

When she notices your indifferent state, she looks at you expectantly.

"What?", you ask.

"Come on, I can't do this alone."

Reluctant you get up as well and shake non-existent sand off your legs. "I don't know Sof...Fer doesn't really seem too into it."

She cocks an eyebrow and the expression on her face says enough for you to not press any further.

"Yeah, yeah alright.", you say. You don't know what plan she has in mind exactly but you follow her anyway. You get increasingly confused when she proceeds to take her bag and go to the changing rooms. She closes the door behind you and rummages in her bag and only when she pulls something out, you realize the absolute stupid plan she has.

No, you don't think even scriptwriters could come up with such silly ideas.

"I cannot believe you."

In her hands are, what you believe to be, the flimsiest bikini pieces you have ever seen.

"I always pack a pair or two for emergencies.", she says and gives you a pair. A red brazilian bikini, the ones with high-cut strings. "And as you can see, this is an emergency."

You hold the garments up. "I thought Fer doesn't like you wearing those, why did you pack them for emergencies?", you ask confused.

Fernando is a sweetheart. You really think there could have been no one more perfect for your best friend than him. He's not controlling, always puts her first and you genuinely believe that he always has her best interests in mind. Fer is not the type to forbid Sofía anything, especially not in regards of clothes. He let's her wear whatever she wants, no matter how short or ridiculous it looks. However, for some reason, he has often voiced his strong dislike towards those brazilian bikini bottoms that recently started trending.

It didn't bother Sofía at all, she didn't really wear them often anyways. But you guess she never got rid of them either.

"Precisely that's why. Also, they tan better.", she says as she takes out a white pair for herself. You don't think she really understood your question and you make a point to ask her later. For now though, you have another problem at hand.

"Ok ok, so you try to rile him up one way or the other. I get it. But why do I have to wear one as well?"

Sofía looks at you like it's so obvious and you're dumb for even asking, "Because there's two of those skanks? We can drive one off, but as long as the other stays, none of them will leave."

Your brows shoot up and you groan frustrated at what this means. "Oh come on, Pedri is not that bad.", Sofía reasons.

If only she knew, you thought. You want to protest but you think back to the blonde girl that threw herself onto Pedri and something bad bubbles up in your stomach.

With new determination you two change and make your way back to the beach. Sofía looks gorgeous in the bikini and for all it's flimsiness you think it suits you pretty good as well. Okay, who are you kidding. It looks fucking sexy on you, hugging you in all the right spots and making your ass look extra perky.

And you know you're not the only one who thinks so, as you feel the eyes of several men and women alike on both of you.

It gets even more apparent when two certain brothers look your way. Comically enough, the two girls shamelessly joined them on your sunbeds. By now your other friends joined as well and Sofía walks in front of you to where the others are; pointedly ignoring Fernando's presence.

You aren't as strong-willed though and can't help but sneak a look at Pedri. He already looks back at you, a smirk playing on his lips as his eyes scan your entire body.

You immediately turn your head back, feeling your cheeks heat up stupidly enough, despite the weather, and sit next to Miguel.

"Ohh, what's the occasion?", Samuel whistles when you two settle down.

Sofía shrugs and you feel uncomfortable with all eyes on you. It becomes worse when the conversations stop as well suddenly and Fer stands up. "Why did you change?"

"Felt like it. Also we can tan better now.", Sofía says indifferent.

He frowns, "But you looked pretty before." Bless his heart you think.

Sofía ignores him, and you think she's going a bit too far but it's not your relationship to intervene. "Samuel can you help put sunscreen on my back, I can't quite reach it."

The flabbergasted look on Fernando's face was both priceless and heartbreaking to see and you slowly begin feeling bad.

"What?"

"Sure."

Both answer at the same time and you grimace at the awkwardness. Fer goes and grabs the bottle out of her hands, the pretty brunette completely forgotten already. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I don't know what you mean."

He turns to the rest of you with an apologetic but upset expression, "Will you excuse us for a moment?"

He proceeds to take Sofía to a more quiet place on the beach. You see them argue in the distance but ultimately decide that for now it's not your business anymore.

Samuel and Loréna already went back into the water, Pedri is occupied with the two girls and only Miguel was with you.

The sun hasn't gotten any less warm and now that you wore this criminal bikini, you could at least put it to good use, right? So you take the sunscreen and hold it out to Miguel. "Can you?", you say pointing to your back.

It takes him a moment to understand what you mean, but when he does, he nods and reaches out but someone else happens to be faster than him. "Let me do it."

You look into Pedri's honey eyes.

Next to you, the blonde girl scoffs and regards you with an angry face. Miguel leaves as well and you want to say something to stop him, begging him not to leave you alone, but Pedri beats you to it. "Turn around and lay down." His voice is firm and it unwillingly sends shivers down your spine.

And for some reason you listen.

Your stomach retracts slightly when your belly touches the cold sunbed. But you forget everything the moment the cool sunscreen touches your skin and Pedri begins spreading it.

It's too sensual for your liking and he's gentler than you thought. Pedri goes all the way up to your neck, massaging the spot thoroughly and when he slowly goes down, his hands reach under your bikini top. Embarrassingly enough, pleasure fills your lower stomach.

Yet, you don't know what overcomes you, but attraction makes you do stupid things, so you simply reach behind your back and open the knot. "It'll be easier.", you explain with a small voice.

You get an answer in the form of his hands, when Pedri touches the exact spot and slowly glides his hands to your sides. His index fingers barely graze the sides of your boobs and goosebumps erupt all over your body.

If Pedri notices, he doesn't say anything.

Instead he just continues spreading the cream all the way to your lower back, his fingers once again invading places he shouldn't, much to your own excitement though.

It's quiet the entire time, you barely register Miguel talking with the two abandoned girls and going away with them. Light chatter and laughs, the splashing of water and the moist sound of Pedri spreading the sunscreen are the only audible things around you.

But you should know by now that it's only a matter of time before Pedri decides to ruin peaceful moments.

"Need me to put some on your ass as well?"

Shameless is the only word good enough to describe the football player. "In your dreams maybe.", you say and turn your head to watch him through your glasses.

His eyes are glued to your backside, "Oh if only you knew, princess."

You bind your bikini top back together and sit up, "You're stupid, González."

"For you, yeah."

You resist the urge to punch him and ignore the fact that it affects you more than what is condemned good. "Will you stop?"

"Why, do I make you nervous?"

You cross your arms over your chest, his eyes immediately zoning in on the movement. You (un)consciously press them together tighter, for no particular reason.

"No."

"Really?", he extends the 'e' sound and leans forward. Not expecting him to, you automatically fall back. He grabs the edge of the sunshade and pulls it down until it completely hides the two of you.

"What are you doing, they'll see us!"

Pedri chuckles and you can't help but peak at his pink lips, only inches away from yours now. "That's what you're worried about?"

"What else?" You think maybe the heat has gotten to your head, but really it's just Pedri's presence on top of you.

You see the way Pedri's mouth opens, ready to continue the banter but with his entire body pressed into yours, his natural scent mixed with the sea, his honey eyes boring into yours and exploring your entire face and his hands itching on your hips, you do the only thing possible in this situation.

You grab his neck and smash your lips against his.

He responds immediately, reciprocating the kiss. You hate how good it feels and despite how confusing it is with him, no moment has ever been clearer than right now.

A whine leaves your mouth when Pedri presses his hips into yours, the pleasure inmessurable. It's an indecent thing to do at a public beach (even though this is a private part of the beach Pedri specifically rented for the vacation) so he pulls back but right now you can't care at all.

All rationality leaves your body when you grab his red shorts by the hem and pull him back. You cling your legs around his back thighs and butt.

"Woah there, sugar, slow down.", he laughs, while caringly pushing a loose strand of hair out of your face.

Honestly, you would be flustered in any other moment but this. You can't think straight, the need to have him currently overweighting any other feeling.

His left hand slides from your waist to your ass, massaging the flesh. His other hand is clasped around your jaw, keeping your lips firm against ist.

You lose yourselves in the moment, Pedri's left hand close to where you need it the most. It's embarrassing how easy his fingers manage to slip under your bikini. And when he touches your clitoris, you're on cloud nine.

Your hands wander down to his beautiful red shorts and waist no time to wrap around his dick.

He groans into the kiss, "Fuck."

You begin moving your hand up and down and that's when all the weight on top of you suddenly disappears. "Shit, I hate to be the one, but we-"

"Yeah, I know.", you immediately cut him off and organize yourself a bit. Your head spins a bit, everything going too fast for you. Your body and mind haven't completely sobered up yet, and it stings a bit to be turned down like this. It's also confusing. But he's right.

Pedri seems to read you well enough by now, when he says, "It's not because I don't want to."

You hold up your hand, not ready for any kind of rejection, "I'm not dumb, Pedri. This is the fucking beach." Yet you wonder if he would have gone further if it was the pretty blonde and not you.

He goes through his hair and laughs, "Not because of that. My brother is coming and I don't think now is the time to explain ourselves, is it?"

You immediately spin around and indeed, Fernando and Sofía are walking in your direction; hand-in-hand, you might add. Luckily they seem too focused on one another and their ice cream to notice you and Pedri.

When you turn back, Pedri winks at you. "I'll choose a more private place next time."

You scoff, "There will be no next time."

He rubs his chin thoughfully and looks at you in an actingly confused way, "The way you were going at it, I could have sworn you were down for another- Ow!"

You hit Pedri angrily, the redness on your face surely visible, "Don't ever mention that again."

"And what if I do?", he smirks cockily.

"Pedri!"

"__!", he imitates in a high voice and this time you can't help but laugh. You roll your eyes playfully and shove him away. It gets increasingly hard to not crush on him. Maybe you already do.

The sunshade moves then and Fer and Sofía hop next to you two.

"Nice to see that you two love birds made up, I was beginning to worry.", you comment and Sofía lovingly puts her head on Fer's shoulder.

You four chat around a bit more, when Fernando suddenly chuckles and points at you and Pedri. Confused, you both look at him.

"You two look more like a couple than we do. Did you notice that you're matching?"

You did, in fact, not notice. And neither it seems, did Pedri.

You make a gaggig noise then and shoot up, "Whatever, I am going to change."

Pedri follows close behind, "Want me to help?"

"Shut up!"

────────────

© moonpedri - DO NOT copy, translate or post my work anywhere without my permission!

[ronearoundblindly]

Time and Tines (2/3)

Reasons (see previous or series)

Steve Rogers x Villain!Reader

Summary: With the Winter Soldier on your side, Steve races against time to figure out why...and how to stop you.

Warnings for basically DARKFIC: talk of unspecified terminal illness, medical malpractice, gaslighting, revenge, gun violence, not overly graphic death but still death (not of Reader, Steve, or Bucky), and decidedly too-little editing. MINORS DNI. There's plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this isn't for you! WC 5242 (which is, yeah, way longer than it was supposed to be)

Steve will do anything to avoid a fire fight with the Winter Soldier. There are too many people involved now, and he has to approach this situation delicately from all angles.

Steve just does not understand yet.

After hours waiting with agents in the dark of Doctor Avani’s house, convinced you’ve ordered Bucky to come right over and kill the man with brute force, nothing happened. There was no sign of anyone. Steve has to try something else.

A small army protects Salvatore while he searches your apartment. If the key to activating his friend is here, he needs to find it, destroy that information, and get a handle on why this is happening.

“This can’t be right,” Steve mutters, pushing past Agent Palmer (who drove) for a better look. “It’s too clean.”

Your one-bedroom would pass a white-glove test.

There’s so little…everything. It’s a far cry from the chaos Steve woke to find in the police station. His head throbs at the memory. He forgot what it was like to have his bell good’n’rung.

“Supe says she’s been selling off furniture,” Palmer calls from the doorway, “but he thought it was replaced. Boxes kept coming.”

Steve inventories a mattress with no frame, half a dozen hanging garments, no shoes. What were you buying? Where did it all go?

The desktop is bare. You’ve taken any laptop with you, it seems. That’s a small comfort. You clearly planned contingencies for your attack andor escape; it’s fitting you had the foresight to hide your research on the Winter Soldier.

Steve is still scared, however, because he sat with Bucky many times, listening to horrible tales of being trapped in his own mind, powerless, isolated in the midst of everyone, unable to control thoughts much less actions.

This one’s gonna take a few more beers for the friends to contend with, but with any luck and quick work, they’ll get through without bloodshed. He and Bucky will decompress somewhere peaceful. It’ll be okay.

He hopes.

Steve scans the lone bookshelf. The most curious edition is a history book about WWII, a few flagged pages open to reveal passages about Bucky’s service record, an underline beneath the location where the sergeant fell from the train, and a mail receipt for an address on Forsythe Avenue keeping your page. That’s all.

It’s not even a unique read. The book isn’t any more specific than an average school text. No other notes are made in the margins, so Steve turns the book upside-down and shakes, hoping for something to fall out. He rips the other books from the shelf and shuffles their pages until a picture comes loose—a polaroid of three women.

You’re on the right, fuller faced but it’s you. On the back is scrawled “the girls” with hearts on either side.

The book is handwritten, no label on the cover or spine, only an embossed mandala design. Steve’s stomach drops, but he opens to the front flap.

Property of Faith Williams

He swallows roughly and closes it, unable to step over that line of privacy. At the moment, he needs evidence of where you could have taken Bucky, and slow-reading someone else’s diary won’t give him that.

Forsythe Avenue might, but that’s just one tiny piece of the puzzle. 

Steve checks a different unlabeled book, but it, too, doesn’t have your name inside, just a ‘Z’ fancifully drawn amidst doodles.

Damnit. This is no help.

“Palmer, you finding anything?”

“No, Cap. Bills all paid. Nothing under the mattress. No mention of Barnes on any papers in the drawers. Not even a Cyrillic symbol.”

No trace, just like how you two disappeared from surveillance.

Steve shuts his eyes, head still throbbing from how hard the Soldier landed a blow to knock him out.

The agent wanders through the tiny kitchen. “Fridge is empty. Doesn’t look like she intended to come back here…if…actually, it looks like she barely ate. No condiments, no spices, nothing.”

“How long has she rented here?”

“Over two years.”

Shit. This is a dead end.

“Keep looking,” Steve orders, but he takes the two journals and heads for the car, pulling up your thin file again. You don’t hold any clearances or a government footprint. You were let go of from your last job with a severance package. Nothing overly generous. No medical leave mentioned. Benefits, including health insurance, would be intact. Based on your appearance earlier versus you in the photo, Steve chews on a few wisps of theories, but it’s not solid proof. Without more, Steve has no leads.

“Friday, any connection to properties on Forsythe?”

He adjusts to get comfortable in the back seat of the SUV alone, firing up a view screen.

There’s a low, sad sound that means the AI found nothing in your records.

"For her or him?"

Womp womp, it comes again.

Steve lets out a tense breath, “Where are we with bank statements?”

“Authorizations just came back,” F.R.I.D.A.Y chirps.

“What about medical records?”

“That one’s a lot harder, Captain Rogers. We have to—“

“Just analyze the financials first,” Steve sighs. His head throbs again, and he knows he needs sleep. There’s no time though. If he could just get answers…

Protections exist, of course, for good reason, but Steve feels the frustration of any detective. He’s trying to find a bad guy, and by 'bad guy,' he means you, not the man you’ve taken, not the man you are certainly going to order to kill for you.

Steve rests his head on the chilly glass and pinches his eyes shut. He’ll take a minute, review the money trail, and then interview the doctor. It seems a miracle that man was able to go home to his wife and sleep, even with security inside the room, down every hall, surrounding the house…Steve wouldn’t do it; he can’t even keep his eyes closed long enough for the dry sting to subside.

How could he be so stupid?

You weren’t staring at him from across the room; you were watching your mark, waiting for an opening. Sadly, it occurs to Steve that if he’d just let you inject Avani, Bucky would be fine, here by his side, and safe.

You are the threat, not his friend, but that’s a hard distinction. If anyone else sees James Barnes—who is the stealth assassin Winter Soldier, as far as they know—they’ll shoot. No questions. Steve has to find him first. He has to get to you first.

Bucky is compromised, but Steve won’t let it come to that. Buck shouldn't do anything he doesn't want to do just because some enemy hijacked his mind and body.

“Feel better?” You twirl in the chair as soon as the motel bathroom door opens, steam billowing out.

Winter’s face is shadowed, pointed to the floor.

“Or…at least, okay? Here—“ you offer the seat next to you at the tiny table “—sit. Eat. Let me—I’ve got bandages for your knuckles.”

“Heals,” he grunts, sitting easily but with stiff posture, “fast.”

You let out a heavy breath, muttering, “makes one of us.”

The soldier reaches out for the file in front of you, but your hand pins it down.

“Uh-uh. Food first, and palm up here, please.” You wait for him to flip open the takeout container then blot antiseptic on the split skin. “Does that hurt?”

He shakes his head, focused on the meal before him.

Several months ago, an article was published about Bucky Barnes’ affinity for this one particular deli in Brooklyn, a third-generation shop. It listed his usual order.

You’ve made sure the bread isn’t soggy. You kept the spicy mustard on the side.

He makes a strange face, looking around for your portion.

“Not hungry,” you assure him, “I’m rarely hungry.” You secure the bandage like boxing wraps and spin the file around.

“Eat your food—” The command is soft, encouraging. “—while I tell you the story of how we ended up here.”

Buried in the file you’ve put in front of the Soldier is several lifetimes of horror. Maybe not everyone agrees with you, maybe not everyone cares, but that bastard Avani has to atone. For the next hour, you explain what’s expected of him, glancing every so often at the fancier hotel entrance across the street from your motel room.

It’s too early; you’d be very impressed if the Captain had followed those bread crumbs yet.

You planned so carefully for every obstacle. You anticipated so many setbacks. Men like Avani go down like great stone pyramids, not houses of cards, because their lives are built with safeties.  For him to fall, a thousand others have to be damaged, and each one of them will put up a fight to remain untarnished. That approach—the truth, and nothing but the truth—has gotten you nowhere. Diaries aren’t enough proof. The placebo effect is not a crime. Two women are worth far less than a functional, marketable drug.

Plus, they’re two dead women. The pyramid is now their tomb. Nothing ever changes.

No.

You alone cannot topple a pyramid. You’re too far gone. You’re just one person. For justice, you have to go straight to the top, to the man himself. One on one.

Well, one on one-plus-one. Your addition is the sharp-shooter who can get you the top, the target, Doctor Avani.

Winter’s mission is very simple, but he’s thorough, asking all the right questions, thinking of all the right options. You knew he would be perfect.

“Now,” you clap at the end of your story, rubbing boney hands together, “a rundown of my meds. Sound good?” You grab a zippered case from the foot of the motel bed. “Nothing complicated, but here—“ nudging out a syringe and one glass vial “—this is the emergency one. Use 10 milliliters of this if I pass out. Got it?”

The Soldier takes an enormous mouthful of his sandwich and nods, eyes flickering back to that single bed.

You smile sadly. “I…rarely sleep. I’m keeping watch for now. You’re safe. You’ll need the rest.”

He chews and adds more mustard before his last bite.

“Okay? Good.” Your smile fades, fatigue and restlessness swirling in your empty gut as you remove another medication. “Next is this one. Every four hours, twent—wait, no, I’m up to thirty CCs now…”

“Sir,” Steve grits out with far less patience than he intended, pinching the bridge of his nose as if it will stop the throbbing inside his head, “you realize I am trying to save your life?”

Dr. Avani purses his lips in annoyance. “And you realize I am required to keep my patients’ confidence, right?”

Yes, Steve thinks, he’s said that several times.

“Are they current or former patients?” Steve tries to clarify.

So far, Salvatore slipped up only once. When Steve showed him the photo from your apartment, the doctor muttered something about ‘Faith’ and ‘Ziva’ knowing each other, looking confused, then immediately shut down.

Steve has to switch tactics. He doesn’t have time for this.

“Ok. We found over a dozen hotel reservations made with your assailant’s credit card, so look at this list—” Steve taps the smart screen to lay out a map with the names highlighted “—and see if anything stands out.”

“What have this crazy woman’s travel plans to do with me?” Avani bites out, rattling the tea his wife hands him.

A tremor. Not unlike how your hands shook at the table last night. Steve wonders if yours was because you are ill or because you were lying to him.

“Darling, your blood pressure…”

Steve sighs sympathetically to Mrs. Avani. “Thank you, ma’am,” he whispers, taking the next cup and saucer and clearing his throat. “Doc, please. I’m just hoping you can narrow this down for me. We still have no motive.”

“Insanity. Jealousy, maybe!”

“Jealous of what? Do you know what she might want?”

No answer, but Avani chews his cheek, eyes wide, while staring northwest on the map of hotels. Steve files that away in his mind.

The doctor returns to sipping his tea. “Do you know what they call people obsessed with finding patterns in chaos?”

His wife drops the plate of biscuits unceremoniously down on the side table between the men’s chairs.

“Salvatore,” she snips with the same frustrated fatigue wrapped around Steve’s neck like an albatross, “behave.”

“No. None of these are familiar,” the doctor grunts.

Steve can’t accuse the man of lying unless he wants to risk an all-out breakdown in communication during this active threat, but he’s running out of options. He needs real information.

Usually Steve would have more respect for a man staying within the parameters of his vocation, but this is a unique and complicated situation. This is Bucky on the line. Steve’s had enough of secrets and red tape.

“Any idea why she’d mail something to Forsyth Avenue? Do you know anyone there?”

“Forsyth Avenue? No, I’ve never been in that area before, as far as I know.” Though Avani wrings his hands together, no indicates that’s a lie.

Wonderful. Steve’s never been this unsuccessful at gathering intel, and Avani’s status as the newly-appointed Avengers’ lead physician makes it tricky to push harder.

So Steve recommends Avani and his wife consider staying in a more secure location before he sets off to personally check the hotels in the northwest quadrant of the map.

He takes Agent Palmer, riding in the SUV while the two diaries sit in his lap, knowing now—as sure as he can be—that ‘Z’ is for Ziva, and she knew you and Faith Williams. Those are ‘the girls’ in the photo.

Without Ziva’s last name, he can’t do a general search, but there is a death certificate on file for Faith.

Three women. One confirmed dead. At least two ‘former’ patients of the doctor. All visibly ill in either the picture or in person. One mourning the loss of person(s) and out to kill the doctor.

The pit in his stomach grows. Something very bad is happening, yet while Steve has anything else to go on, he will not be reading another’s diary.

He can only hope that your medical records are finally available once the hotel searches are complete.

There’s even a possibility he’ll find Bucky at one of these. Maybe he won’t have to concern himself with the rest at all. Maybe he won’t have to think so hard about your motives for activating a Soviet sleeper agent.

Steve does think, however. He thinks hard enough to spiral as each reception desk is questioned, as all security footage is combed, as every building is cleared. He has to make some assumptions to make the pieces fit.

You believe Avani is responsible for your friends’ deaths—both of them, since when Steve interrogated you, you accepted his condolences—and believe their cause of death was whatever treatment Avani administered.

It’s sad, of course, but it happens everyday. Experimental treatments are just that. If you’re concerned about gross negligence, the doctor could easily be reported to the Medical Board. Considering the amount of research, forethought, and planning required, the Winter Soldier is one of the slowest possible solutions to your problem.

But…Bucky was just your contingency plan. You had an opportunity to kill Avani yourself, yet you still set other options in motion. You used a weapon theoretically deadly to only the doctor 

Steve still can’t understand, and it’s driving him nuts.

Finally, after the hotel reservations prove fruitless, Steve sees no other choice. He has to read the diaries.

He combs through the pages, growing nauseous as darker and darker layers of the situation reveal themselves, disturbed by everydetail except updates from the units on Forsyth Avenue or those stationed at the doctor’s house. Nothing is unfolding save the landscape in Steve’s mind.

He asks F.R.I.D.A.Y about the disease Faith and Ziva mention. He asks about the public records of the drug trial Avani lead and its results published just six months ago, after the last entries of the diaries. He notices the treatment was a huge success…for those not in the control group. Finally, he can’t continue.

His head pounds while his stomach churns.

In the early afternoon, Steve lays down to rest his eyes and reevaluate, but he’s met with only a blank  canvas and drifts to sleep instead.

He’s woken by a shrill ring of his phone.

“Yeah, Palmer, what’s—what? What do you mean he’s gone?” Steve jumps up, straps on his shield, and races to his bike. “The hell were you thinking letting him make a house call today? Where did agents—“

Steve’s foot slips right off bike for an instant.

“Avani led the driver to some suburban neighborhood. Forsythia Commons.”

It dawns of him just as the garage door squeals open.

Steve never showed Palmer the receipt. No one else saw the numbers to the address. Steve’s rattled brain finished the label with a street name he knew.

He was wrong.

Including battles in Germany way back in the day, he has rarely driven so recklessly, but Steve is nearly a half-hour behind now. He has to catch up.

Palmer tells him Avani went into the residence alone—for patient confidentiality—and after a while, agents couldn’t get an answer at the door. Upon forced entry, they found the woman who lived there bound to a chair with tape over her mouth and the doctor nowhere in sight.

Steve gets lucky.

On his way to exit the freeway, he notices a hole in the noise barrier wall past a slope of grass. He pulls over and asks Palmer what the backyard of the residence leads to, but Steve can hear the reverb of agent comms before anyone is visible through the brush.

“Friday, I need traffic camera footage from my location from thirty-five minutes ago. Were there any vehicles stopped on the side of the road?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers. A standard maintenance truck with the department’s logo shows up and leaves seven minutes later, based on ten second intervals.”

“The license plate, can you read it?”

“Quality insufficient.”

“The highway department, do they have any registered cars out here today?”

A long pause follows.

“Friday?” Steve barks.

“Negative, Captain. Inspection is slotted for the end of next week, not today.”

“Alright, follow that truck on the cameras. Tell me exactly where they went.”

He doesn’t bother to tell Palmer where he’s going because Steve doesn’t want them to know really. He needs a head start to find Bucky—to make sure it’s Bucky who is found and rescued, not the Soldier who is cornered and subdued.

The trail ends at a dilapidated office park near the river miles outside of the city. With his own, short fingernail, Steve peels away the Highway Department magnet slapped onto the white truck parked by one building.

Nobody else is in sight, and the truck cab is empty.

Across the nearest door is sun-shriveled lettering. “-alv—re Ava—, M.D” marks the third name in a list.

Steve doesn’t hesitate. He can’t. He walks right in, eyes adjusting to a cave-like darkness without electricity.

The voices are faint behind another set of double doors, but he hears them.

“I don’t owe you anything, bitch. I hope you die like they did.”

There’s a sharp slapping noise and someone spits loudly.

“Admit it. Admit what you did and you won’t die today.”

You don’t beg him to talk. You don’t plead with him. You sound weak but sure.

“Rot in hell,” Avani annunciates, and Steve flings himself through the doors, knowing what comes after such a taunt.

You give him every opportunity to come clean. He could save himself, but Avani refuses while the camera records behind you. He calls you names. He calls your friends worthless. He says they were ’whores,’ but you will still send him back to the correct authorities if he tells the truth.

He doesn’t, he won’t, and you’re honestly pleased this is how it ends.

You don’t have a choice really; you must honor Faith and Ziva somehow.

Instead of the truth, Avani curses you, though not much could be worse than your current fate, even with Winter standing a few feet away, his gun drawn.

You have readied the syringe in your unstable hand and lift it to the doctor’s throat when—crash—Captain America bursts in and scans the whole room.

“Don’t do it,” he tries plainly. “You don’t have to kill him.”

You’re impressed. That’s faster than you expected, but Steve is looking at his friend to stop, not you.

“Shoot him, you idiot,” the doctor snarls.

As if Winter thinks the order somehow applied to him, he turns toward an open palm and a raised shield.

“SHOOT HIM!”

Winter doesn’t move the gun away from you and Avani.

Steve steps closer. “Bucky,” he starts slowly, “I’m not going to do that. I’m not here to hurt you. No one has to die.”

You need to buy more time.

“Soldat, show him.”

Only then does Winter lower his pistol and reach into a pocket at his chest, revealing the tuning fork that controls his own mind. Doing this will forfeit your exit strategy, but you’ll accomplish you mission. Winter’s mission is now secondary.

Steve’s eyes flicker from the fork to you.

After a tense breath, you give the command, confident the soldier will obey, locking your focus on Steve.

“Fetch.”

Winter sprints to the other end of the room and explodes through a wall and then a window to the lawn banking the river.

Cap makes a choice, his sad blue eyes full of pity, and it’s then you realize he knows.

He read the diaries. He understands what Avani did.

Steve bolts after the Soldier.

The doctor shrieks for his Avenger to come back, to protect him from his earned fate, but the hollow thuds of a vibranium arm and a vibranium shield colliding hum through the hole in the building.

The sound of fighting continues as you return the syringe to Avani’s neck.

Enough. Enough excuses. Enough lies. Enough time has been wasted on this man already. Enough is enough.

The end is more peaceful than he deserves. It’s quick and not nearly as painful as it should be. There’s no time left for suffering.

Salvatore convulses after collapsing on the stained industrial carpet, foam gently dripping from his mouth, a symptom of his condition when mixed with a common resuscitative cocktail, one you have to take frequently, one that spiked Steve Rogers’ adrenaline and nothing more. It kills Avani. His heart nearly explodes in his chest.

If there was ever a human that medicine should fail…

You only know he’s susceptible because Ziva knew. Heart conditions and caring for them are the sort of thing one knows about a person they love.

Avani promised to marry her, to leave his wife, to be with her after the drug trial succeeded. He promised she’d live, but he told Ziva she was taking the real medicine, ensured she took the placebo, and then gaslit her until the day she died.

Ziva spent the rest of her life loving a man who would make her happy and healthy, but instead, Avani made her life as short as possible.

He was not even that kind to Faith.

In her own words, Faith wrote how dying scared her, how she begged the doctor for the actual medication, how she offered anything to get it. Avani accepted. Faith did whatever that bastard wanted for months, all the while told she was healing.

Relief never came.

Faith was bedridden when a package arrived for her—a diary willed to her by a friend she’d lost touch with once you three weren’t gathering in the same hospital suite for the old treatments. That’s when she put it together, but Ziva had passed two months prior. Faith lasted only four more days, just long enough to bequeath the two journals to you.

The victory doesn’t feel as euphoric as you expected. You thought somehow you’d know that Ziva and Faith were proud and at peace, but you’re just empty and tired.

You stare down at Adani’s body, unfazed, when the tuning fork slams against a dangling metal doorframe and Cap shuffles through the rubble.

He’s scraped and beaten which isn’t what you ever wanted, just a necessary evil to fight evil. He watches as Barnes walks in from the grass.

“It’s me, punk. You can put that thing down.”

Bucky doesn’t wait for Steve, snatching the prongs right from his hands and tucking it back in his jacket.

There’s a moment where they almost hug before Steve remembers the doctor and rushes to the man at your feet.

“Call for help! I'm starting CPR.”

Barnes simply holds your gaze.

More sad blue eyes. It brings you hope that he will complete his mission.

You step away from the others to make for a cleaner shot, nodding that it’s okay, breathing a rough but weak “please” for emphasis.

“Buck?” Steve looks up as Bucky points his gun at you again. “What are you doing? STOP. It’s over!”

“His mission was never to kill Avani,” you hiss, unable to take your eyes off the perfectly-centered muzzle directly in front of you. “He’s here to kill me.”

“The hell—“ Steve climbs to his feet “—why would you shoot her?”

“I’m not going to jail!”

“You know what they’ll do to her, Steve.”

Both men take one step closer.

“There has to be another way.”

“I did this because it’s the only—“

“—can understand doctors who taking advantage and manipulating their patients better than anyone—“

“Put the gun down!”

“Pull the trigger! It'll be—“

“—told me he could do better than me,” Bucky barks. “Doc said, to my face, that he could make a better me. He wanted to make soldiers, Steve. More soldiers. Avani didn’t give a shit about what was right.”

You jump in. “If you found the diaries, you know what he was capable of.”

“That’s not how this works. We don’t condemn a man from—“

This time you step toward Barnes. “Just do it. Shoot me now.”

Steve lunges to take your wrist in his hand, your limb comically thin and delicate beneath all his enhancements.

“She doesn’t deserve to rot while they sweep this under the rug,” Bucky adds, voice low and serious.

“This is for the best.” You look at Steve now, and something heartbreaking swims in those morose pools, something unspeakable.

His head shakes, dirty, sweaty hair falling in his face. “What if there’s another way?”

“I don’t want to be saved, Cap. Let me go.”

You offer one final, soft smile, and Steve moves just as Bucky pulls the trigger.

Steve completes his testimony before the panel opposite him. None of the questions are a surprise.

They’ve painted you as completely insane, demented, psychotic, and he can’t argue. What would he tell them? Yeah, but she had kind eyes, so, you know, remember her fondly? No, he can only remain quiet until he has something pertinent to add which is very little. Bucky had far more to offer, and he already spoke.

When Steve steps out of the counsel chambers, Maria Hill is waiting for him.

“Shame she ordered the Soldier to dispose of her body. Took the coward’s way out.”

“You make her sound like a rabid animal that had to be put down,” Steve grit out. 

“No, you’re right,” Hill admits, “but it was lucky she left the sound thing for—”

“Tuning fork,” he snaps, “which I destroyed. No one should have that. No one should even know about it.”

Buck does his best to calm Steve down with a heavy hand on his shoulder. “S’okay, pal. The interrogation footage has been wiped and unless someone with perfect pitch was walking by observation--”

“You know that’s not reassuring, right?”

The two huge men look at each other.

Steve finally mutters, “what about Avani’s widow?”

“All the blackmail sent to his mistress in Forsythia Commons was removed before Gloria even knew Sal was kidnapped, and I think it’s fair to say that lady is so grateful her name wasn’t dragged through the press that she won’t be bothering the wife. Good thing the doctor put her car and house in her name, or legally, this would get ugly.”

“Yes. We’re very lucky he was such a skilled adulterer,” Steve quips dryly. He regrets handing over the diaries for evidence. They weren’t mentioned once in any of the hearings.

Bucky flashes Steve a warning glare that reads, don’t start.

Hill obliviously flips through the folder in her hands, nodding. “All in all, this report amounts to an incredibly long lead-in of ‘use that PTO, boys!’ You earned it.”

“Understatement of the century…and I would know.” Bucky is a much better liar than Steve.

Thank god, they are fleeing to the middle of nowhere indefinitely.

Hill heads back to her office. “We’ll be here when you get back. Keep in touch.”

“No,” Steve counters. “I don’t think I will.”

Bucky and Steve leave in an old truck the next morning. They can’t seem rushed or impatient to get to their destination.

Casually accumulating supplies, Steve loads their bags in the flat bed with space for all repair materials they are likely to need. The cabin needs some work; the guys need to get their hands dirty and live simply for a while.

The team is happy for Steve; it’s been so long since anyone saw him moving forward in life, and, of course, he and Bucky deserve some peace and quiet.

No one else has any idea how hard-won this vacation is.

The drive takes all day because they can’t be in a hurry.

Steve takes pictures at every scenic outlook. Bucky climbs up onto some rock ledges to take selfies which Steve is not into. This earns him being featured as a blurry grump in the background of all of them, purposefully.

Eventually, the GPS-free truck pulls up to the place, a large A-frame style cabin that should be plenty big for two super soldiers.

Parked on the gravel path, Steve is careful not to ding the other car when he swings open his door. As Bucky heaves two duffels from the trunk, he calls out, “got the meds, too” and heads inside. Steve gathers up the remaining bags and trudges over, smelling something hearty and delicious cooking, listening to the tinkling, copper-coin wind chime hanging somewhere above him.

He doesn’t stop looking at his feet until they hit the top of the porch, spotting two smaller bare feet on the welcome mat.

There you are, holding the door open, layered in warm knits, more tired before but better than expected.

“Hey,” Steve breathes finally.

“Hey,” you say, your mouth twisted to hide an excited smile.

“Yes, hello,” Bucky grumbles from the living room. “Now shut the damn door. I’m hungry.”

Steve steps inside.

[Last Part]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

a/n: Sorry this took so long a fucking year! Tags will be in a reblog.

[whimsiwitchy]

I hear the secrets that you keep (series) 

chapter six: 24

Pedro Pascal x plus size F!reader 

series masterlist

series summary: 24 year old y/n is an insecure and struggling actress in Los Angeles until she finally books a leading role in a big Hollywood movie next to her leading male, Pedro Pascal. A spark of friendship flickers between the two and slowly begins to blossom into something more. As y/n is navigating a new found fame and a new found romance, she fears that a lie she has been sitting on might ruin everything.

Warnings: plus size afab reader, she/her pronouns, use of y/n, swearing, age gap (24/14 years), descriptions of the female body, use of the word fat, descriptions of a bigger body (stretch marks, cellulite, rolls, etc.), descriptions of nudity, sexual themes. 

Please let me know if I missed anything! Warnings may change as the story progresses. 

chapter summary: y/n tells Pedro the truth. 

authors note: Hi everyone! This chapter is a little rough, but it's done lol. Also, what do you guys think about the length of the chapters? Do you want them longer, shorter, the same length? Let me know! I believe they're average 1.5-2k words as of now. Enjoy! :)

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗ 

“BITCH, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!” 

You had spent the last thirty minutes catching Angie up on the newest details of your escapades with Pedro and all of your doubts that came with it. It has become really common for Angie and yourself to go weeks without seeing each other, only sending each other texts here and there or the two of you discussing work stuff when necessary. When both of your busy schedules finally aligned, the two of you immediately set up a ‘catch up and gossip’ sesh on your living room couch. 

“Please stop yelling. I’m one noise complaint away from being evicted because of you.” You sigh only half joking. 

“Sorry sorry. I’m just… okay wait let me gather my thoughts for a moment.” She takes a sip of her iced coffee and she's staring just past your head at the wall behind you. Your leg is bouncing at a record breaking pace. You told her everything, not skipping a single detail, and you were hoping whatever came out of Angie’s mouth next was positive. You weren’t exactly sure why you were so nervous to hear what she was going to say. Maybe you wanted some confirmation that what had been happening between you and Pedro wasn’t crazy, that you weren’t in over your head. 

Angie had always been better at relationships than you and understandably so. She was naturally beautiful, it baffled you how someone could even be born so blessed. She was about 5’4, with ginger hair that went down just past the middle of her back. She has this perfectly white smile that hid behind her perfectly plump lips with light freckles scattered along her cheeks and shoulders. Her loud and outgoing personality just solidified just how easily likable she was. You used to envy her but she was never competing with you. She was the kindest soul you had ever met and she stood beside you always. You knew whatever she said was probably what was best for you. She was the definition of a girl's girl. 

“Okay okay... so you’re telling me that he came to see you on his day off, the two of you messed around in your trailer, he asked you to come over, and the two of you didn’t fuck?” She says as she finally snaps back into reality. 

“Angie oh my fucking god… how many times do I have to tell you that we didn’t have sex.” You’re starting to feel hopeless. You had asked her for advice and shes done nothing but annoyingly ask if you and Pedro had fucked since the moment you mentioned that the two of you basically dry humped each other for a good five minutes in your trailer.  

“Can you please be serious for five minutes and actually help me? I’m freaking the fuck out. Everytime I’m with him all of the worrying goes away but once I’m alone it hits me like a fucking truck.” You’re begging her at this point to put her dating expertise to use. 

“Okay fine, I’m sorry.” She says sincerely and you let out a faint thank you. 

“So he said something about wanting to take you out?” 

“Yea, um, he mentioned it when he was asking me if I wanted to stay over. It wasn’t anything set in stone but he did mention like dating and stuff so I don't know…” You trail off, really unsure of everything. 

“I think you’re overthinking it babe. If he didn’t fuck you, he definitely respects you and wants to have something more with you, ya know?” 

“You think so?” 

“I know so. He’s a good one y/n, I can feel it in my bones.” You give her a small smile. 

“You should totally introduce me to him though so I can really double down on him.” She grabs your hands from your lap and looks you in the eyes. 

“It’s all going to be okay, okay? In the end, he's just a man y/n. Besides, we can jump his ass if he plays you.” She squeezes your hands and gives you a tough nod. 

“But that’s the thing Ang, he’s not just a man. He’s my older, insanely hot co-star, who still doesn’t even know just how young I am.” You huff and shove your face into your hands. 

“Y/n, you haven’t told him?” She’s giving you a look you’re not familiar with. 

“No…I tried but work stuff interrupted me and that was before he kissed me” 

“Hm… well I think you should for sure tell him sooner rather than later, but don’t worry about it too much, yea? I’m sure he’ll be fine with it.” 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─

“OH fucking shit, fuck fuck fuck…HOLY SHIT..” 

Swears were flying from your mouth left and right as the wax lady ripped more and more wax off of you taking each hair follicle with it. With your intimacy training coming up soon, you had to prepare by being silky smooth on all body parts that have a chance of being on camera- which was basically your entire body for this shoot. You’ve been through this same process many times before but something about this felt different. You knew that this project was bigger than anything you had ever done before but somehow you being naked on camera for millions to see wasn’t your biggest fear right now. 

Once your appointment was over and there wasn’t a hair left on your body, you were speed walking home. For some reason you always convince yourself to walk to the wax studio due to the close proximity to your apartment, but you always regretted it once your skin was begging for some sort of soothing distraction from the pain. Even with the loose fit of the skirt you were wearing, commando at that, you could still feel the irritation growing stronger. Your thighs were beginning to rub together in a way in which you knew you'd have to slather vaseline between your legs just to prevent any further chafing. 

After your long ass hike (a ten minute walk) through the depths of hell (it was 80 degrees with a breeze), you finally made it home. You walked straight into your bathroom, stripped, and hopped into a cold shower. You scrubbed your body with a vanilla and coconut body wash, being extra careful when you got closer to your fresh brazilian wax, and washed your hair. When you finished showering, you lotioned up, dried your hair, and laid down in your bed to relax. 

You planned on bedrotting and watching tik tok for the rest of the day but you couldn’t shake the thought of what Angie had told you earlier today. 

Sooner rather than later…

*hey! I was wondering if you’d want to hang out sometime soon? :) 

You sent the text and threw your phone across your bed. It’s been a few days since you slept over at his house. After you agreed to stay, he offered the guest room, but with all of your courage -mostly sleepiness,  you asked to sleep with him. The next morning you were wrapped in his arms, soft snores in your ear. His hand was holding yours and you laid there memorizing each crinkle of his knuckles, staring at the tattoo that sat between the webbing of his thumb and index finger. You kept trying to imagine how he looked when he was sleeping, wondering if he had a peaceful look to him or if the wrinkles in his face relaxed. Not being able to hold off any longer, you turned over so your mind wouldn’t have to imagine anymore. You were right. He looked like the definition of peace. His hair was a mess, his mouth ajar, eyelashes resting beautifully on the underneath of his eyes. Pedro was the most handsome man you had ever seen, you were sure that you could have fallen in love with him right then and there. 

Pedro:

*Hey baby. I’m done filming around 9 tonight. I can come pick you up and we can grab some food. 

*Sound good? 

You:

*sounds good. see you later <3

Another late night with Pedro. You’d unconsciously have been reserving nights just for him. When the sun was up, you worked, saw friends, handled whatever business that needed to be dealt with, but the night was strictly for him. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was purposeful or completely accidental that the two of you seemed to meet when the moon was out. The next few hours leading up to seeing Pedro would be hell, you were certain of it. Knowing that everything that has built over such a short time period could be washed away and you would have to awkwardly deal with him on set, somehow ignoring the strong feelings that you were beginning to hold for him. You were really hoping that Angie was right. That he would somehow be totally cool with the whole 24 year age gap thing, but you knew deep down that just wasn’t likely. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─

It was 9:30 and you were pacing around your living room waiting for any sign of Pedro. You’ve been anxious all evening and now that the time to see him has come, you weren’t ready at all. A soft knock on your door makes you come to a halt. Walking over to the door, you peer through the peephole to see Pedro- who looks so good it makes your jaw drop. You took a few deep breaths before opening the door. 

“Hey sweetheart.” He greets, smile beaming. You open the door wider, allowing him to step inside. 

“Hi..” Your voice comes out softer than you intended, anxiety seeping through your body. “Uh, let me just grab some shoes and my bag then we can head out.” You walk towards a small coat closet to grab your checkered vans. “You can take a seat if you want, I'll be right back.” He gave you a nod and walked over to the papasan chair that sits in the far corner of your living room. Meanwhile, you were in your room freaking out. Seeing him was a hard slap in the face. You knew you had to tell him tonight before feelings developed and someone got hurt, but who's to say that won’t already happen tonight. 

You felt like shit and you definitely looked it. Grabbing a small purse, you spray some perfume on and make your way back to the living room. 

“Ready to go?” You ask, putting on a small smile, hoping Pedro couldn’t see through it. He returns the smile and stands up. The two of you make your way to his car, stopping once outside to lock your door. 

“So, what’re you hungry for?” Pedro asks while putting his seat belt on, you do the same. 

“Whatever is fine with me, I'm not too picky.” 

You ended up grabbing some mcdonalds and parking in some random parking lot to eat and talk. He was being so sweet to you, complimenting you every few minutes, a smile never leaving his face. He was truly your dream guy, he was everything you could ever want. You were terrified that you were going to lose it all. You hadn’t been completely yourself all night and Pedro was starting to catch on. 

“You okay baby? You seem a little off.” He’s looking at you, eyes filled with concern. You don’t answer him right away. You’re trying to find the best way to go about telling him. You were 24 but you were an adult and you hated that this age gap was such a big deal. You had never been into the idea of dating an older man but then Pedro came around and changed everything. For you, it wasn’t a life changing idea, but for Pedro, it could very well be career ending. If he was seen with you and people found out just how young you were compared to him. This whole relationship, or whatever it is, was doomed from the start. Your leg is bouncing, a regular occurrence around Pedro it seems. 

“P…I need to tell you something.” You’re looking down at your hands, unable to look him in his eyes. 

“What is it sweet girl? You can tell me anything.” His voice is filled with nothing but sincerity and you can physically feel pain from your heart slowly breaking. 

“I’m not actually 35…” You’re still not looking at him, silence fills the air. You’re waiting for him to say something but he never does. You look up and his expression is unreadable. 

“Okay…How old are you then?” From the sound of his voice, you can tell that he is confused. 

“I’m 24.” You’re looking in his eyes searching for any rapid change of emotion. Your leg is still rapidly bouncing, heart pounding. 

“What?” 

“I’m 24, well i’ll be 25 soon but yea…” 

“Jesus fucking christ y/n…” He’s shaking his head and running his hand over the slight stubble coming in on his chin. 

“Are you mad at me?” You ask. You sounded so pathetic right now, but it’s all you could muster up. 

“I’m not mad.” He’s staring at you. Relief flows through your body and you start to relax. 

“Why did you lie to me?” His voice is raised slightly causing you to wince slightly. 

“I didn’t mean to lie to you P, I swear. My um…my agent, Angie, lied about my age to book the audition. It wasn’t something I did intentionally, well it wasn’t something I did at all.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” A look of hurt present on his face. 

“I just never thought to bring it up. I mean we were just hanging out then you kissed me and everything changed. I tried to tell you at the skating rink but we had to head to the floor and I swear I've been trying to find a way to tell you but I was so scared to ruin whatever we have going on here. I really like you pedro…”  

“I really like you too y/n, but you’re so fucking young. I mean I’m about to be 50, I can’t be screwing around with a 24 year old.” 

Your heart drops. You can feel the tears starting to well up before a few fall against your will. 

“I’m sorry.” You're looking down again, trying to hide your tears from Pedro. 

“I should get you home.” He sighs and starts the car. 

The drive back to your apartment was quick but painfully awkward. You faced the window the entire time, letting your tears fall freely. When he pulled into the parking lot, the two of you sat in silence for a few minutes. You were afraid to leave the car, afraid that this might be the last time you get to be with him outside of work. 

“What does this mean for us?” You whisper, turning to look at him. He has his right hand still sitting on the steering wheel, while his left hand is sitting on his thigh, fingers tapping. 

“I don’t know y/n.” He’s still not looking at you, face staring out the front windshield. 

y/n.  No baby, no sweetheart or sweet girl, just your name. 

“Okay. Well um… thanks for dinner. I’ll see you on set.” Your voice betrays you, cracking on your last words towards him. He gives you a slight nod. You get out of the car and make your way to your apartment. Once inside, you kicked off your shoes and walked slowly to your room. Collapsing onto the bed, you let out a sob, all of the emotions you had been holding in finally being let free. You felt heart broken. For once you had the perfect man who saw past your weight, thought you were beautiful, and enjoyed your time. But it didn’t matter now. It was all ruined because of some stupid lie to get an audition for some stupid movie that has a stupid fucking title. You were starting to feel more angry than sad. Angry that you had even got the part in the first place, angry that Pedro asked you to hang out with him, angry that he had kissed you. If the two of you could have been professional and just be costars, your heart wouldn’t be breaking into a million pieces. Life was so fucking unfair. 

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝ 

series tag list: @nuetralcolorsenthusiast, @kungfucapslock, @hansilandgretel, @ashleyfilm, @titabel, @fifitheragertot

*If you wish to be added to the tag list, leave a comment on this post letting me know! <3

[when-wax-wings-melt]

Y'all wanted the presentation? Here's the presentation. Image descriptions are below the cut!

(technically this wasnt part of the assignment, which was "write an essay and read at least one full page to the class" so the reason why there's those huge blocks of text is because that is taken directly from the essay. i can condense things if I WANT to condense them)

[ID: 15 screenshots of a powerpoint presentation. The text is either white or gray, and the theme is various shades of purple, typically with bubbles of dark/light purple and images.

Slide one: Title reading "Keeper of the Lost Cities: A Love-Hate-Love Relationship, And What It Can Do To Your Psyche" with three images on the side. The first image is a meme of two stick figures, the first saying "kotlc lore is second nature to us rabid fans so it's easy to forget that the average person only knows the average special ability count and one or two vackers", the second figure saying "and valin, of course," and the first saying "of course." with text at the bottom reading "Even when they're trying to compensate for it, experts in anything wildly overcompensate the average person's familiarity with their field." The other two images are of Shannon Messenger, a white woman with blonde hair. The images are captioned "The dastardly mastermind behind it all" and "meet Shannon Messenger".

Slide Two: Title reading "Background" with a block of text and two images. The text reads "In total, the Keeper of The Lost Cities (KOTLC) series has over 7000 pages, split between nine and a half books (Book 8.5 was, uselessly, a novella) with a planned tenth coming in late 2024, and a graphic novel dropping in November. It’s the kind of series that hooks you the same way a fisherman hooks a fish: with a promise of a treat that goes very, very unfulfilled." The top image is the cover of the first keeper of the lost cities book, captioned with "book one of what will soon consume my entire brain for years and years and years" and the bottom image is a fish staring at the top image as if it is a tasty treat, captioned "Poor, innocent little 6th grade me".

Slide Three: A block of text reading "This is to say: KOTLC is a good series, at least at first. It’s certainly been my core obsession for a good (or bad) five years. It’s a hook because you can’t escape once you’ve begun. It’s my own personal brand of heroine, as Edward Cullen might say if Bella were a too-long book series that doesn’t resolve any plotlines or character arcs and instead piles more information on top of worldbuilding until contradictions are more plentiful than the packed main cast." An image of Edward Cullen from twilight is captioned "Me, apparently".

Slide Four: A small caption at the top reads "If the series ever ends you can call me Brant when Jolie asked him to leave the Neverseen the way I will burn down my house and kill everyone I love (haha just a joke to get us going)​" with an image of a huge explosion below it. Text reads, "Basically, KOTLC is a good series, but the idea of recommending it feels like I’d be violating several articles of the Geneva Conventions. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. The thought of it ending is an impossibility on the scale of the apocalypse and I hope (I'd rather) the world ends before this series does."

Slide Five: Titled "Queer-Coding in the Lost Cities" with the image of Sophie Foster and Fitz Vacker on the side. Text reads, "The queer-coding doesn't just stem from Sophie’s dedicated denial of both her worth as a human being and her desire to kiss her pretty girl friends. A connection called a “Cognate Bond” is often referred to in the text as the closest two elves can become, emotionally and mentally. Cognates exist when two Telepaths (such as Sophie) have such a deep and unbreakable trust bond that they become more skilled together than they were apart. In creating and maintaining this bond, they have to complete trust exercises and not hold back secrets keeping them from total confidentiality. Sophie’s cognate is her friend (and love interest, and, debatably, ex-boyfriend) Fitz, whose romantic relationship was in a large part focused on their cognate one. Their trust exercises involve staring into each other’s eyes, holding hands, having matching rings, and Fitz telling Sophie that she’s the only person he can truly trust. Fitz also asks his father at one point if cognates are allowed to date each other— his father affirms the statement."

Slide Six: Titled "Queer-Coding: Qualden, Tiertice, and such other 🤨🏳️‍🌈 moments​" with the text, "Notably, Alden has the authority to do so since he himself was a cognate, only undergoing a nasty breakup— sorry, only losing the bond after his cognate, Quinlin, kept too many secrets. It’s implied that two other characters were once almost Cognates, only to grow too far apart when one of them, Prentice, has his sanity forcibly shattered and is locked in prison, leaving his (gay lover) best friend, Tiergan (code name Granite), to raise his son. The choice to parallel Fitz/Sophie, Alden/Quinlin, and Tiergan/Prentice was possibly not a conscious one, since Messenger has never attempted to hint at the existence of homosexuality before, but it still resonates with hundreds of queer teen readers who look at the portrayal of utter devotion and trust between two men and think, wow. this is what i see in myself.​" The image is a quote from Neverseen, reading "'What did you give him?' Granite asked, cradling Prentice like a baby. Prentice's head lolled to the side, his body limp and pale." / "Granite held Prentice tighter, whispering, 'It's going to be okay.'"

Slide Seven: Titled "Honorary Errol "I have five identities and they're all the true me" Forkle Mention​". Smaller text below reads "Strut it Magnate "I inspired Loki but don’t even ask about the horse thing" Leto!​" A picture of Mr. Forkle is next to a tumble post by me about Forkle being trans based on the Loki thing. The slide is decorated with several trans flags.

Slide Eight: Titled "Beauty Standards" with text reading "Speaking of things Shannon Messenger did subconsciously, it’s so painfully clear that this series was written by a white American woman that it makes me break out in hives. Messenger establishes very early on in the series that all elves, no matter who they are, are gorgeous in comparison to humans. For some reason that I’m sure has no correlation to Sophie and therefore Messenger’s personal biases (aka Western hetero/cisnormativity and gender roles), every single elven character is slim with clear skin and no glasses. For some reason, beards seem to be impossible for elves to grow naturally, since the only time facial hair ever appears on anyone’s face is when they take an elixir to change their appearance." An image of Sophie with her human family is captioned "Sophie with her ugly nasty disgusting human family apparently​".

Slide Nine: Text reading "Valin is a member of “the drooly boys” who, had they been “human, would’ve been skinny, with acne and braces. Since they were elves, they were fairly good-looking—or they could’ve been if they hadn’t slicked their hair into greasy ponytails” (Messenger KOTLC 170). It seems elves have evolved past the need for brown eyes, acne, crooked teeth, facial hair beyond eyebrows, and variations in body fat—not to mention most other features that make people unique. ​There is indeed a single elf who is fat and even has wrinkles (elves also don’t physically age past 30, fun fact). He alters his appearance with berries that swell his skin, making him the only unique body type besides Sophie’s human family, who are consistently thrown in terrible comparison to her new, movie-star-looking adoptive parents. The berries also make him smell, interestingly enough.​" Images of Councillors Zarina, Terik, and Clarette line the right side of the slide.

Slide Ten: Text reading: "By portraying the elves as the standard for beauty and then removing any pimple, stretch mark, fat roll, body hair, crooked tooth, big nose, or any of the thousands of features that add depth to faces and bodies, Messenger tells us that perfection lies in eliminating all “flaws.” She tells her young readers that they are desirable if they look like Sophie, or Biana, or Keefe—not Stina with her curly hair, or Dex’s too-skinny arms, or Forkle’s large stomach, or my human body.​" The family portrait of the Vackers is also there.

Slide Eleven: Text reading: "Mostly, what defines KOTLC is how it’s interpreted rather than the content itself. I look at Sophie Foster and see parts of myself, but that does not make her me. These characters always feel so painfully real, desperately relatable, as if Messenger cobbled together a main cast from bits of my life, but they are not. In the end, they are just characters. ​In the end, it’s just a series made for middle schoolers, in the same way the sun is just the sun, and the stars are just there to twinkle merrily and not to be explored.​" Sophie on the cover of Exile is also there.

Slide Twelve: Text reading "Literally the day after I finished this presentation a new Marella short story came out in the paperback version of Stellarlune (book 9). This is a quote in the short story:​" with a picture of the short story of Marella being gay about Linh. Also on the slide is "🚨🚨🚨Alert Alert!🚨🚨🚨​" "🤨🤨🤨🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️​" and "Everyone is excited about Marellinh canon but I think she will simply never acknowledge it again.​"

Slide Thirteen: Just the text "Oh, By The Way, This Series Is Off The Walls Insane​"

Slide Fourteen: Text reading "Things that happen in this series: Alicorns have sex and then there is a graphic birth scene (but the Forkle as Loki thing is going too far 🤨)​, Love Interest confesses his feelings by telling Sophie he wants her to be assigned to marry him by the government​, An ogre bodyguard plays matchmaker with her charge and his crush (successfully)​, There's a guy who can sense "potential" except is definitely lying about this​, Villains die so disappointingly. So far we have "hit on head with rock" "smushed by door opened too quickly" "exploded" "fell into evil birthing sauce" (this last one was cool though)​, and A school principal becomes president​" Three tumblr screenshots and memes detailing other things that happen in the book are also there.

Slide Fifteen: THE END. A screenshot captioned with "Credits for the fake book 7 cover go to @/aphelea on tumblr​" shows a canva/booktok style fake cover for Flashback, with a dancing couple, a horse, and the words "he was a boy. she was a horse. could I make it any more obvious?"

/end id]

[saltydkdan]

Salty i wanna get into Baki which one do you recommend,the manga or the anime?

Oh you just woke up the fucking beast (I'm so sorry).

I LOVE this question, and as a recent Baki fan myself, I can tell you that getting into the series as a Western consumer can be rough if you don’t have a basic guide to know what you’re getting into…. so that’s what I’m gonna make this post (TEEHEE).

This series has gotta be one of the most insane shonen- actually no- one of the most INSANE PIECES OF FICTION I've ever experienced, and I NEED more people to check it out. Like, LOOK AT THIS SHIT DUDE.

Baki out of context somehow even puts Jojo's Bizarre Adventure to shame. The way I usually pitch it to people is that Baki is as insane as people THINK Jojo is before they read it. Shit is just... MAN LMAO. OBAMA IS FUCKING IN THIS.

Unlike more popular stuff like Dragon Ball and Hunter x Hunter, a lot of this series has just never been officially localized, so knowing where to start, and even how to support the series, is a hard task if you don’t know what you’re doing.

Thankfully THAT’S WHAT YOU HAVE ME FOR. This Tumblr post is gonna be your one stop shop for how to get into Baki as an English speaker (and it’ll give me some space to ramble about one of my latest favorite series).

But uh before we get into the nitty gritty, wanna put some trigger warnings for the series for those who may want to know. Listen, I know how some of these are gonna look to the average person, but this series just be like that sometimes, if you can’t take stuff like this trust me it’s insanely valid. You’ll understand if you choose to take the plunge.

SERIES TRIGGER WARNINGS:

Animated Blood/Violence, some animated gory imagery, Incest (???), Nudity, Urine stuff, Bigfoot/Animal Violence, Death, Uncomfortable looking muscles, and one instance of sexual violence (offscreen)

If you are comfortable with all that (and again, valid as fuck if you aren’t) then let’s talk BAKI!

First off, Manga or Anime?

You would think that either would be fine, but my personal recommendation for Baki as a beginner, is to watch the anime over reading the manga. Simply put: The anime is a lot more widely available and accessible in English speaking territories, and is fairly easy to support officially with its current iteration.

For whatever reason, the manga just never really took off in the West when compared to other series, so it was only ever officially released in English a handful of times, and they only ended up publishing the first few volumes. Theoretically, you can read the first few books to start, but the entire series all together is legit longer than One Piece at a whopping 1,203 chapters, so you are gonna run out of material real quick. The fraction of officially available manga barely scratches the surface of the series.

Even if you’re stubborn about reading the manga and want to try reading fan translations, they come with their own separate batch of issues. Plenty of fan scans you can find online range from wildly outdated, to generally being poor quality at best. There’s even some fan translations that just straight up make shit up and don’t even properly translate the original script. Adding in extra dialogue and slurs randomly to make the text seem way edgier than it actually is.

Full disclosure, I wanna cut through my bias here and say that there are indeed some great scans available on the internet if you look hard enough, especially for the more recent content! But they aren’t super easy to track down with how the series is formatted, and you may accidentally find yourself reading the story out of its proper order.

The watch/read order of Baki is a bit of a toughie for new people, but is actually pretty simple once it’s explained. The story of Baki is split up into multiple different series, kind of similar in format to Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure. Though instead of “Parts”, Baki is split up into completely different manga and TV series. This is why many fans get confused initially, especially with the watch order, because it isn’t laid out in an easy to understand way at first glance.

The most well known series are currently streaming on Netflix, but those aren’t the ones you wanna start with. Nope, the story of the Baki anime actually starts way back in 2001, in a TV show that isn’t streaming officially online. Now if you want to watch out of order, I’m not gonna stop you. You can do whatever you want, by all means, but you’re gonna be missing some VERY important story context, and some characters just won’t hold the same weight.

So if you DO want to watch in order, come with me my friend. Let me show you-

BAKI’S SUPER COOL AND NOT AT ALL CONFUSING WATCH ORDER:

Baki the Grappler (2001) (24 episodes)

This is the original 2001 anime adaptation, the very start of serialized Baki anime. You’re gonna wanna start here trust me.

This series isn’t streaming anywhere officially online, but you can find it… places. Seek it out, trust me, because otherwise you’re gonna pay way too much for out of print DVDs on Ebay. Thankfully though you have options! The series is both subbed and dubbed (as well as every series I discuss from this point forward.

This show is the very start of serialized Baki anime, the very beginning of Baki Hanma’s story. Although it’s not in the way you may think. Despite this being the earliest point in the Baki timeline, it’s actually an adaptation of a later story arc from the manga.

Now I know what you’re thinking, “Didn’t you just say this is where I should start? Why is it adapting something from later in the story?”, and yeah it’s valid to be confused. While yes this is the first ever Baki anime, for some reason the staff behind it made the decision to move this later arc up a bit from the original manga. In my honest opinion, I feel like this is actually a great decision.

As you will see as you watch, this honestly FEELS like this should be where the story begins. The escalation of power and storytelling from this point onward feels very natural, and you won’t miss out on anything or spoil yourself whatsoever on later events.

This is the de facto best starting point.

Grappler Baki Maximum Tournament (2001) (24 episodes)

This is effectively the second season of Baki the Grappler. For whatever reason they decided to title it something else, and while this is the norm for the series later on, this name change is weird because it adapts an arc from the original manga just like the first season of anime I just talked about.

Whatever lol.

Anyway this series, much like the previous, isn’t officially available as of now. So your best option is to SEARCH for it. SEARCH on the INTERNET. Or y’know. The good ol’ expensive out of print DVD on Ebay route.

In my opinion, compared to the first season, this one feels a bit slower paced and a bit of a slog at points but HOLD STRONG TRUE BELIEVER. This season is the introduction to a lot of mainstay characters in the series. Many of which you will come to love, even if you don’t know it yet.

BAKI (2018) (39 episodes) (NETFLIX)

This is the modern adaptation of Baki. After the last series ended in 2001, the anime went on hiatus for 17 years before it was announced that it would be coming back with a modern coat of paint.

Contrary to what you may think, this isn’t a ground up reboot. It’s a continuation of the exact point they left off years ago, right after the Maximum tournament. The only thing that kind of sucks about this is that, at least for the English dub, they replaced most of the voice cast. Most of the new VAs do a great job, however you may need to get used to Yujiro Hanma having Shadow the Hedgehog’s modern VA from the games haha.

Thankfully, you can officially support this series easily via Netflix. Normally I’m pretty eh on Netflix as of late, but this being the only way you can support the show officially in the west, I personally recommend it.

Baki Hanma (2023) (39 episodes) (NETFLIX)

This is the most recent anime! It’s also on Netflix.

Me and my friends just got to this on our watchthrough together.

Anyway, this is my list! If after you catch up you wanna hop into the manga and read the fan scans, I’ve heard that you can start on Baki Hanma/Baki Son of Ogre (chapter 183).

Hope you enjoy the funny man punching show! Feel free to report back and tell me how you feel about it (positive OR negative)!

Like I said, I've been watching the series with friends on Discord every night or so when we're free and MAN. Baki is fucking AMAZING WITH FRIENDS. It just never slows down after a certain point, and it just gets stranger and crazier.

[batglare101]

The Green Lights Colony — a group of cats who live in a mountainous area. They worship and believe in the entity known as Ion. The cats of Green Lights Colony tend to wear leaves on their fur to represent their group and their love for nature and of course, Ion. They treat will seriously and view quitting as a great weakness. They always use the prefix Green in their names (ex. Greenspark, Greenheart, Greenfang) and are also known to have friendships with non-cats such as dogs, raccoons, ravens, etc.

The Amazons — a group of cats consisting of only she-cats. None of the toms are allowed to stay past kittenhood (They're basically like The Sisters, from the actual Warrior Cats series). Some cats who are in their group may have the ability to see and speak with their ancestors. The cats in this group are powerful fighters, and they're usually larger and stronger than the average cat. Their camp resides on a small island, which they call Themyscira.

Atlantis Kingdom — a group of cats who live by the ocean, most notably inside a spacious cove. They live as a monarchy, being ruled by a king and queen. They are excellent swimmers and have the ability to remain underwater for quite some time, due to their ancestors who have evolved to withstand and tolerate their environment.

BatClan — an unofficial clan of cats who have an association with Batglare. As Batglare's family grew bigger, his first adoptive son, Nightwing, had suggested they put a title to their family, and thus the name BatClan was chosen (note: Batglare and the rest of the batfam are on-and-off members of JusticeClan, like Aquashine and Greenspark are. They're basically half loners). BatClan cats are sneaky and have excellent night vision. Their camp is inside a dark cave near twoleg place.

JusticeClan — a group of cats who live deep in the woods. Founded by Superstar, Batglare, Wonderstrike, Mimicstalk, Runningheart, Greenspark, and Aquashine—the cats had created the clan during a time when twolegs were invading the forest and were destroying wildlife. JusticeClan are a mainly peaceful clan who are known to take in outsider cats who are in need of help and/or shelter. The cats of JusticeClan are powerful, courageous, and not afraid to take risks—they are the only known cats who are brave enough to fight twolegs and bears. JusticeClan are greatly respected by other groups, but their notoriety also draws in bad apples who want to get rid of them.

some brief info on the groups! there's a chance something will change in the future. there's like a lot of groups/communities in the DC universe but I don't want to include all of them since that'd be quite a hassle. In the Warriors books there's currently five clans (at least officially?) so I'm choosing to follow that limit. BatClan doesn't count obv

[seonghwaddict]

EYES DON'T LIE — ii. room 323.

synopsis. you've always resented jeong yunho, and you were positive that the end of high school would've marked the end of your rivalry and hatred. yet now you find yourself in the same crappy hotel as him. assigned to be right next to each other much like the good old times. pairing. jeong yunho x fem! reader. genre. mini-series, fluff, slice of life, mature, academic rivals to lovers, non-idol au. chapter warnings. mentions of infidelity, heartbreak, angst, swearing. word count. 1k

chapter i. chapter ii. chapter iii.

after high school, you never once thought about yunho.

that was a lie.

you did for the first few weeks into college but soon enough, you outgrew the childish tendencies and pettiness of teenagers and focused on your own life. you went to a top college and graduated at the top of your year you didn’t have to share the number one spot this time. somewhere in the four years of college, you met min daehyun.

on the surface he seemed like a very average person. but as you got to know him and learned about the inner workings of his personality, you found yourself getting more and more interested in him. and it seemed that he felt the same way because only a few months after you had met, he asked you out.

after graduating, the two of you stuck together and even moved into an apartment together in busan. and then, when both of you found good, stable jobs, he popped the question. he proposed to you under the starry night as the two of you lounged on a picnic blanket on the sandy beach of busan. and you said yes.

because you love him.

you love loved him.

loved.

weeks ago, your fiancé left for a three-week-long business trip in seoul. he’d been working awfully hard for the past months and neither of you had much time to yourself. so you took the opportunity to surprise him.

in the final week that he’d be gone, you booked two tickets to fly to jeju island from seoul, a weekend-long romantic getaway. just the two of you. once the tickets were booked, you packed your stuff and hopped on the next train, excited as you imagined the surprise on his face when you sauntered into his hotel room with your surprise.

and surprised he was.

so much so that his dick immediately slipped out of the woman he had in his bed. of course, as any fiancé does when caught red handed in the act of cheating, he rushed over to you, pulling on his clothes and spewing excuses faster than he could shatter your heart.

“it’s not what it looks like, i swear!” he cried as if you hadn’t just seen him balls deep in a random woman—who was currently glaring at him, though much less intently as you. once your mind caught up to what was happening and processed the utter betrayal, you slapped him across the face and stormed out, riding the painfully slow elevator back down. when you saw the woman in the lobby later, she made sure to apologise profusely and swore on her mother’s life that he said he was single.

you stayed just long enough to assure her that you didn’t blame her at all you weren’t sure if she could understand you through your sobbing and promptly left the hotel. unsure of where to go, unfamiliar with the big city. without many options, you stayed at the nearest hotel you set your eyes on. completely unaware of what you’d find.

it wasn’t anything fancy. quite the opposite, really. the paint on the walls looked like it was chipping off, and the floor creaked with every step you took to get to the front desk. the place smelled odd, though you couldn’t quite name the scent. looking around, you spot some worn down couches next to the elevator on the left, you supposed they were for guests who had to wait for a long time to get to check in or out, and a bar a little ways to the right. it didn’t seem occupied at all, the only people in sight being the bartender and two older men conversing over drinks by the window.

the man at the front desk was nice enough. he asked about the basics—how long were you staying (undecided), how many people (t- one), cash or card (card), become a member to get bar discounts (no, thank- actually, y-yeah, yes please). he made quick work of typing you into the system and arranging a room for you, handing you your room key as his furrowed eyes looked you over. you thanked him quietly and made your way to the elevator.

it took a couple minutes for the elevator to arrive, but you didn’t expect quick service in a place like this. after hitting the button to the third floor a dozen times and standing in silence for another couple minutes, the metal doors finally slid open to the floor you were meant to stay on.

slowly you passed by the doors, rubbing your eyes and squinting when your vision wouldn’t focus through the tears. 318, 319, 320, 321 and then finally your room, 322. it was the second to last door at the very end of the long and narrow hallway, beyond the next room was a window that led to the fire escape, cracked up just a bit to provide ventilation.

it took you several tries to get the key into the key hole, a fact that had you so frustrated you nearly gave up and threw the key out the window, but you succeeded eventually. as you pushed your door open, the door of the neighbouring room opened and your temporary neighbour stepped out.

after a second of consideration, you decided it would only be polite to greet the person, especially since you were standing right next to each other anyway. so you looked up, planning to bid him a good night before disappearing into your room. but as you opened your mouth to speak and he looked up, your breath caught in your throat as you and the stranger the man stared at each other.

because it was none other than jeong fucking yunho standing right outside room 323.

[ lilo's notes . . . ] oh me oh my!! who would've thought they'd end up in the same hotel, right next to each other?! *gasp* this is what i meant with i'm sorry for what i was about to do to yn </3

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[lucky-clover-gazette]

extremely long essay-adjacent post about female representation in the captive prince

capri is interesting bc i dislike the lack of female characters, but knowing the way that people are treated in vere and akielos, i kinda feel relieved that we don’t see many women.

like idk, gender stuff is complicated. it is a double standard, that seeing female characters in the same positions as the men in these books would just feel different. given how women have been treated and continue to be treated in real life society, it’s almost escapist fantasy within itself to see this world where we don’t have to really look too hard at women being abused and oppressed. and in addition to real life, we get that in plenty of fiction already, written mostly by men, often in a way that feels condescending or fetishizing.

capri’s male-dominated cast comes at the expense of really seeing women on the page, but the few female characters do seem to be intentionally written in positions that don’t feel disempowering or misogynistic. vannes holds her position of authority through similar means to the powerful men, and she’s just as morally questionable as the rest—no exceptions are made. jokaste is authoritative simply by her characterization, and uses her femininity in as a tool to put herself in higher stations. like, that woman has a uterus and she knows how to use it to her advantage. and then there’s the vaskian women, like this entirely separate matriarchal warrior society, and we really only get a peek into whatever the hell they have going on.

we know, logically, that there are plenty of female slaves and pets and prostitutes, almost undoubtedly abused and undervalued wives of men in the nobility. the regent's court is male-dominated by choice. kastor, i would bet, is similarly misogynistic. the male characters we follow are explicit misogynists, gay and disinterested in women, or like legally forbidden from any heterosexual romance they might want to have. gender roles and sexual taboos run deep in this world. we know that women are out there, suffering, just like damen and erasmus and laurent. but pacat shows us women who are not suffering instead. and that, to me, is something.

but like, i think the instance of womanhood that’s most interesting to me in the series is actually the absence of it in laurent and damen’s lives. the characters and story we follow are so steeped in masculinity and patriarchy—but there are women in this world. they are up to things, and i think pacat has given their existence thought. i can't know her intentions for sure, but i sense that she might have made them absent in our protagonist’s lives for a reason.

becauseeeee who is the person to finally Beat the regent? a female character who you are meant to ignore, who appears to be a random bystander, but reveals herself to be mindful and caring. a woman who, just like damen and laurent in book 1, is relatively powerless in this society but left with very little to lose. loyse is the closest thing to like… a just kinda average woman we see in this entire series. she’s not partaking in the debauchery of veretian, akielion, or vaskian nobility. she’s not playing power games with her body or sexuality. she’s basically just, like, the normalest person in the room, full of people like fifteen feet deep in a pool of power struggles, sexual depravity, manipulation, politics, and war strategy. she has her head above water, at least after aimeric’s death. that isn’t a gendered quality by nature, and i hate the implication that women are more likely to be level-headed, good advocates or caretakers, etc… but i don’t think that’s what i’m trying to say here at all.

because loyse, like… isn’t a perfect mother. she either completely missed or knowingly enabled horrible things happening to her son because her husband wanted to social climb. i’m not sure if she knew, during aimeric’s childhood, exactly what was going on with guoin, the regent, and aimeric. it might say somewhere (i hope it does!) but my skimming yielded nothing. i think it would make the most sense if loyse only found out after aimeric’s death, like on the road with guion and the main characters. she clearly spoke to laurent about it at some point, and didn’t tell guion that she planned to testify against him. regardless of when she found out, she’s just over it all at the trial, and finally speaks her mind.

loyse being a woman doesn’t inherently make her more likely to be wise or compassionate than the main characters—but it’s more like, idk, being so far removed from the very male-centric story that we see, it allows a character like her to have the clarity to essentially defeat the final boss everyone else has been struggling to fight for three entire books. loyse really just said, “hi. fuck you all. my son is dead because my asshole husband made a ‘gentleman’s agreement’ with him as a bargaining chip. i’m not delusional, i know this is wrong, and im not going to shut up about it to appease this depraved and cowardly court. also the regent killed his brother, because i know you assholes don’t care about my son and never will.” and that is the first domino in the regent’s defeat.

so, like… what if damen and laurent had been written with loyses in their lives? women who weren’t there to have sex with them, in damen’s case? mothers and sisters and friends? what qualities could they have then developed in themselves, so much sooner than they do in the series?

if more of these characters were women—if more women were Involved In The Story, in general—would it have been as brutal or difficult as it was? could things have been better communicated, would social reform have happened sooner? would damen and laurent (especially laurent) have had the same experiences that so strongly define who they are? it’s a slippery slope to assign traits to gender, i know, but i think there is something to be said for the different ways men and women handle intellectual and emotional problems—especially if they’ve been socialized heavily based on their gender, which does seem to be the case for this world. if damen had a mother or a sister or a simply platonic female friend, do you think he would have more quickly realized some of his own ethical blind spots re: sex and consent? if laurent had a mother or sister or female friend, do you think he would have been protected from the regent, and given more opportunities to feel safe and unsexualized? if there were actual authoritative women in the venetian royal bloodline, would the regent have been able to take over, and make the court so male-dominated in the first place?

it’s like that meme, “x media (image of giant book), x media if character had a gun (very short book).” i think, fundamentally, that capri would not have been able to tell the same story if more female characters were involved. and to be clear—that is not an excuse to exclude female characters, because i fucking love female characters. it would almost certainly be a better series with more women thoughtfully involved, but the point is, it wouldn’t be the same. and i do admire that pacat seems to understand that there are differences between men and women, in many ways, and doesn’t just like… write a character she means to be a dude, and then genderswap. or write an character who’s in essence genderless, insert them into this very gendered society, and then spin a wheel to see what pronouns they use.

i’m not sure exactly what point i’m trying to make here, but i’ll leave two related excerpts for your consideration. actually, yes, i do know my point, and i’ll say it with conviction: simply thinking to put female characters in a story, does not make it a story with thoughtful female characters. and capri, as a series, is defined by its thoughtfulness to me. i cannot fully commit to the suggestion that its lack of female characters is inherently misogynistic, because i think that lack of female presence is a character within itself. and more than anything, it’s an ongoing flaw of fandoms in general, people in general, to either want women to be 1) absent, so they’re not in the way of the men’s stories or 2) simple and archetypical, to check a box for inclusion. but there are other options. i like those options more.

to truly want female representation in a misogynistic world is to want to see the complexity of womanhood, both in its presence and its absence. and i think if cs pacat ever decided to take on a female perspective, intentionally, as the main point of a piece of writing, it would be masterfully done. i would love to see her write women, but i want those women to truly be the main characters. and i never want to tell anyone what they should want to write about.

capri is what it is. and to its credit, i do believe that this series both considers and values the female perspective much more than the fandom seems to acknowledge. the real problem to me rests with fandom and the society it reflects, rather than the story or its author.

excerpt #1, from the summer palace by cs pacat, author of the captive prince series:

‘My mother planted these gardens,’ said Damen. His heart was pounding. ‘Do you like them? They’re ours now.’ Saying the word “ours” still felt daring. He could feel it mirrored in Laurent, the shy awkwardness of what was so dearly desired. ‘I like them,’ said Laurent. ‘I think they’re beautiful.’ Laurent’s fingers found his again, a small intimacy that had him overbrimming. ‘I don’t think about her often. Only when I come here.’ ‘You don’t take after her.’ ‘Oh?’ ‘Her statue in Ios is three feet tall.’ The corner of Damen’s mouth twitched. He knew the statue, on a plinth in the north hall. ‘There’s a statue of her here. Come and meet her.” It was part of the nonsense they were sharing, a whim, to show Laurent. He tugged; they came to an arched open garden. ‘I take it back, you’re just like her.’ Laurent said it looking up. The statue here was bigger. Damen was smiling; there was delight in seeing Laurent explore himself, a young man who was sweet, teasing, at times unexpectedly earnest. Having made the decision to let Damen in, Laurent had not gone back on it. When the walls went up, it was with Damen inside them. But when Laurent came to stand in front of the statue of his mother, the mood changed to something more serious, as if prince and statue were communicating with each other. Unlike in Patras, it wasn’t the custom in Akielos to paint statues. His mother Egeria looked out towards the sea with a marble face and marble eyes, even though she’d had dark hair and eyes like himself and his father. He saw her through Laurent’s eyes, the old-fashioned dress of marble, the curled hair, her high, classical brow and outraised arm. Damen realised that he didn’t know how tall his mother really was. He had never asked about it, and had never been told. Laurent made a formal Akielon gesture that matched his chiton and the gardens, but was different to his habitual Veretian manners. Damen felt his skin prickle with strangeness. It was part of Akielon courtship to seek permission from a parent. If things had been different, Damen might have knelt in the great hall in front of King Aleron, asking for the right to court his youngest son. It was not that way between them. All their family was dead. ‘I’ll take care of your son,’ said Laurent. ‘I’ll protect his kingdom as if it were my own. I’ll give my life for his people.’ Above them, the sun was high and bright, and encouraged a retreat to the shade line. The boughs of the trees around them were heavy with scent. Laurent said, ‘I won’t let him down. I promise you.’

and an excerpt from the captive prince fan wiki.

[bloggingboutburgers]

Hey there's something you might wanna know

George Cubbins/Karim from Lockwood and Co. is aroace :D

It's not openly stated or anything but like c'mon its obvious as shit

For example, in the last episode of the show George is helping Lockwood walk after he got injured and says "This is so touchy-feely." And you might think thats just his autism or something BUT THEN Lockwood replies "It's a medical necessity, George, it doesnt mean a thing."

:DDDDDD

Hey! Thank you so much for the recommendation^^

Personally, I haven't touched upon it much in my latest post but I'm pretty strict with what I consider rep and if asexuality or aromanticism isn't explicitly named in the story, or at the very least laid on very very very veeeeeeery thick with no possibility AT ALL to interpret it any other way (but really mostly... Yeah explicitly named), I don't consider it actual representation. (On that note, no, mere Twitter-or-Tumblr-confirmations don't count as proper representation to me either, if you have to go to a social medium to know about more things that "are in the show" then they're not really "in the show", are they.)

The reason is I think a- people who watch the series and don't know what asexuals or aromantics are won't know any better if it's not named, and b- I actually trust society on that so little that I doubt most writers even know what asexuals or aromantics are, OR if they do, CARE about representing them at all, so unless it's actually named, I'll mostly come to the conclusion that it's done by accident. In short... Maybe it's obvious to US who recognize ourselves in that orientation but to the average person, characters that only exhibit traits of asexuality and aromanticism without it being explicitly named are "haha so quirky" and kinda nothing more.

Basically we're at a point where asexuality and aromanticism are not public knowledge enough yet for mere hints to count as rep imo. Which is tricky because mere hints are enough for most orientations, but... I don't think the knowledge about us is there yet to the point that it'd be enough.

But... Yeah that's my take on it, and I AM pretty strict about those things, so I don't mean to ruin that for others if that's enough for them TwT Cus regardless it can be pretty great to recognize oneself in a character. So this is pretty good to know for people who don't need the orientation being named for it to count as rep in their book! So thank you for that^^

[mylifeisjustafeverdream]

why didn’t you like british dimitri :(

I can't lie, he's simply not sexy enough. This is the man that had these hoes framing each other for murder for the CHANCE to be with him. You cannot convince me that British boy could inspire such nonsense.

On a more serious note...

My issue with British! Dimitri really just speaks to my larger issue with how the show, and others like it, chose to adapt the source material. I literally HATE when one of my favorite book series is adapted and it is done in a way that the VA show did. It's this thing that a lot of YA adaptations do where they take the basics of a series like the setting, characters, and usually the overarching premise of the first book and use it to create it's own show. It's what Pretty Little Liars, Vampire Diaries, and Shadowhunters did. They take the series and gut it for parts to make a broadly marketable series that they can push for as many seasons as possible. An "adaptation" that you can identify as the book series, but also tells a completely different story. This isn't me saying these shows are bad television shows. I am saying they are bad adaptations. Of the previously mentioned shows I was only able to get through Vampire Diaries and most of Pretty Little Liars, and that was because I didn't read the books before I watched it. I wasn't met with the soul crushing devastation I was met with when I watched Shadowhunters and realized it was not actually going to adapt the book. (It's why, even though it's a literal dumpster fire, I prefer the movie because it at least tried to follow the books) Some people don't mind this, and that's totally okay, but I hate it so much. I feel like these adaptations take away so much from the story they are adapting, and make it worse. Obviously they could make it work having Dimitri be British, but it also just alters so much about how he is characterized. He wasn't Russian in the way that Lissa and Adrian are. It wasn't just used to give him a cool name, or to make sense in the overall world building. Richelle made Dimitri being Russian a significant aspect of his character. It influences his plotlines and is a major factor in why he behaves the way he does. The changes made to show Dimitri fundamentally change who he is in the world of the series. Him being a foot taller than Rose isn't to make a cute height difference, it is to signify just how massive he is compared to the other Dhampirs. The boys refer to him as a god, and that's not just because he was a good warrior. If that were the case they'd say the same thing about Janine, and they don't. Dimitri's entire being makes him a force to the dhampirs. He is other worldly to them. The show made him plain, average. That is my issue with British Dimitri.

[the-ace-with-spades]

little snippet from a buddie outsider pov future fic that i probably won't ever finish because its part 3 of a series, or aka the Bobby-fication of Buck

"I was told to report to Captain Diaz?"

The man, with Diaz clearly written on his name tag, stares. It's not the most friendly of stares but it's not that kind of a stare and Kori had his fair share of them as a brown boy who consistently used public transport and worked night shifts. He'd expected to have a welcome that wasn't the warmest but he at least wanted some kind of verbal acknowledgment. 

Well, this is awkward, he thinks, why is he not saying anything?

Kori woke up bright and early today, excited and anxious for his first day, over an hour before his alarm started blasting, and then made sure he had his bag packed with all the essentials he would need on a twenty-four shift. Four different sets of clothes, five meals in Tupperware, protein bars, a book, headphones, towel, shampoo and shower gel, the basic firefighting manual from the academy and his paramedic textbooks. He prepared to be too prepared rather than embarrass himself by asking to borrow shampoo on his first day.

He arrived at the firehouse via Uber because public transport in LA couldn't be reliable and he also couldn't afford a car and then he had stood panicked on the side of the truck bay for about fifteen minutes before checking his email again for the right names — Captain Diaz, 118 Ladder Company — all along to the schedule in his head.

And now the guy, he's just—standing there. Staring at Kori like he's debating whether he should eat him alive or roast in the oven beforehand.

The thing is, Kori knows he’s disappointing for a firefighter. He’s barely five foot seven, five foot six without the boots, really, and he’s lean and slim, in a way that would make some people doubt whether he can carry a person out of a burning building — he can — and he’s, well, he’s average.

But the One-Eighteen is stuck with him for the year, he might be average and disappointing, it just doesn’t matter. Because they are stuck with him.

He still hasn’t seen Firefighter Buckley.

"Are you Captain Diaz?"

He looks a bit young, for a captain, but he is pretty sure there have been younger ones in the history of LAFD. And Diaz is a common surname, in California, or common enough that it wouldn’t be impossible to have two people with it in the firehouse even if still a bit improbable.

"Oh," he says, looking down at the nametag on his chest, finally noticing where Kori's been glancing at the whole time. "Sorry, kid, that would be my husband. I'm Lieutenant Paramedic Diaz."

Kori, he must admit to himself, blinks at him like he had just spoken in Mandarin and not English. Because there are two Diazes in the firehouse. And both of them are his officers. And they’re married.

The—The lieutenant crosses his arms over his chest, puffing up like a peacock, and narrows his eyes. “Do we have a problem?”

“No, sir,” he says, immediately. “I didn’t know they allowed married couples to work together, that’s all.”

The lieutenant still looks at him like he's trying to assess the deepest secrets of his soul and raises one eyebrow at him like he expects a fight but his shoulders fall slightly. He's, uhm, very handsome, even this angry, in that foxy dad kind of way that Kori's never been interested in but knew it was a thing.

"My husband and I worked together for seven years before we married, I think we've proved we can stay professional," he says and it sounds a bit like a threat. "He's in the office downstairs. You should report to him before you're late to your first shift."

He smiles but Kori has a feeling it's a mean smile.

Kori does go back downstairs, passes the rest of the loft and walks past the kitchen where he sees three other firefighters, quietly eating breakfast. The conversation stops and they all collectively look up at him. He probably should say something or wave or anything so it's not awkward but no, he just speed-walks into the narrow corridor that — he hopes — leads to the offices.

He passes two doors before he finds the right one. There is a brand new plate hanging on the side of it, shiny and not dusty at all, with Capt. Diaz and Lt. Diaz written on it and the door is wide open — someone is in the closet in the back, from what it seems, going over documents or something that makes a similar rustling sound. Kori moves into the doorframe, going for a knock, when he realizes.

There's no door. Nothing, just an empty door frame with taped down hinges. There's no way for him to knock.

He clears his throat as loudly as he can.

There are two desks inside, one with a brand new plate of Capt. Diaz and one with slightly less shiny Lt Diaz on it. It looks like any other office, slightly bare on the shelves but also full of diplomas and official pictures of past officers hanging on the walls. There's also a framed drawing made by an elementary school kid, or Kori guessed it was an elementary school kid, of a firefighter in bunker gear, dead center on the wall behind the captain's desk, and a couple of photos of what he assumes is the station's crew, all in their dress uniforms — he can't see it very well.

The captain's desk is full, with another frame standing on the edge, three pencil holders filled to the brim, multiple kinds of colorful stationery, and stacks of documents and folders cluttering the countertop. There's even a freaking fidget spinner on it — he hasn't seen one since freshman year in high school. It's a mess but Kori knows that even being a probationary firefighter would mean way too much paperwork for a job that was technically blue collar. The new captain wasn't just a new captain, he was also newly-qualified to be a captain so Kori suspects he probably is barely keeping up with the forms and documents as of right now — it's a learning curve.

The lieutenant's desk also holds a couple of frames but there's only a small pencil case and a neatly arranged stack of folders lying in an even more neatly arranged corner.

And wow. That's Firefighter Buckley, even more awe-inspiring than he was eleven years ago

He looks at Kori with a half-smile stuck on his face but with a frown on his forehead. There are wrinkles around his eyes, forming like laughter lines. He tilts his head and Kori thinks—Kori thinks this is it, he remembers me, he—

"Khorshed Patwari, was it?" he asks and his grin looks the same, almost — there’s more wrinkles, around his eyes and on his forehead, and his face seems a bit softer, but it’s like a memory refresher. "Am I pronouncing it right?"

It's stupid — Firefighter Buckley saved probably hundreds if not thousands of people, he's been a firefighter for at least twelve years, probably, and Kori is just one of those faces he had seen for a minute or two. Easily forgotten. Average. It's understandable that he doesn't remember him, he would probably be more surprised if he did remember him.

"Everyone calls me Kori," he says, after clearing his throat. He knows he’s gaping like a fish, a bit, but he can’t help it — Firefighter Buckly looks almost unchanged and he can’t believe he’s here.

"With the h?"

He blinks. "Sorry?"

"Do you keep the h in Kori?" he clarified, huffing a small chuckle out.  "I want to know how to spell it correctly in the future."

"Just Kori, uhm, K-O-R-I, is okay," he explains, still star-struck.

"Uhm," he says eloquently. "I'm looking for Captain Diaz? I was supposed to report to him?"

"That would be me," Firefighter Buckley says and—Oh. He’s a captain and he’s—he’s married to a man that’s the station's lieutenant. He's not really Firefighter Buckley anymore, is he? "Although most people just call me Buck, or Cap, if you really must."

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/753405110589259776/note-spoilers-on-this-ask-for-anyone-who-hasnt

I’m this anon, and using your anon box to reply to a bad take in the reblogs of it lol.

1. aO3 treats the show and book series as separate fandoms for Bridgerton. My friend’s genderbend fic though is based on the books — thought I made that clear here. And yes book fans were being genuinely homophobic in her comments, not just her interpreting them not shipping it as “homophobia.” It was full of “get out of OUR tag” and claiming just writing a female character in a male version or shipping her male love interest with a guy was “misogyny,” exactly as I said. It’s a huge problem in the fandom. The main Reddit sub is so full of homophobia that queer fans had to spin out a separate inclusive sub called r/bridgertonlgbt. I’ve heard of people on TikTok being called “bourgeois degenerate” and “groomer” just for questioning why it’s supposedly such a dramatic and horrible change to make Michael into Michaela in the show.

2. Can we finally fucking retire the really tired, knee jerk “book is always better” attitude that has never been universally true anyway lol. The books Bridgerton are based on are pretty middling het histrom that repeat plots so much between them that that’s one of the big changes the show has had to make — just not have seasons 1 and 2 follow the same plot beats like books 1 and 2 did. The show has had to make a lot of changes just because it has a bigger audience than your average het histrom reader and while I haven’t loved every shift, it is overall better for it. Or just like, focusing on more than just each season’s main couple like the books only do — also better! The subplots are some of the most fun parts of that show, but also, it makes sense that people are going to continue to want to follow their favs from season to season and not just zero in on each couple. Yes I’ve read all the books. They simply are just not that great, TV is a different medium than books anyway and so certain changes are necessary, and frankly most of the loudest parts of the “book fandom” online who complain about the changes are people who read the books because of the show anyway. They’re all wildly inconsistent in what they consider acceptable changes: they’re largely on board with making the universally white books more racially diverse, but not adding queerness and gender diversity. Why is one ok but not another? Especially when a lot of them are ok with sad or bittersweet queer stories in subplots like Brimsley’s but not happy stories for main characters. Why is that, I wonder? A lot of people are pretending to be “book snobs” as a mask for bigotry, or just have bad taste, but regardless I think we need to get over the idea that stalwart defense of some mediocre and overly tropey romance novels is more elevated or intellectual and like the show isn’t an improvement in being less lazy about the cliches of that genre than the original author. (Seriously, I read a lot of romance novels, so this is not a knock on the genre as a whole or its readers — but the Bridgerton books are SO lazy and SO repetitive. Honestly I think a lot of the book defenders need to read more histrom themselves. Then maybe they’d see how weak and lazy those books can be compared to what else is out there.)

Fandom please learn basic things about how adaptation between different mediums works 2k24 also stop assuming that consuming a story in text form over another is an inherently intellectual activity

--

A pretentious friend of mine who loves Shonda Rhimes was going on at me a while ago about how she ~always reads the book first~ and then waiting for applause as if that's unusual!

She then tried to launch into how shocked she was by the books being... well, lowbrow trash, but she had some complex and boring way of explaining this.

I was like "Honey, you do know what a regency romance novel is, right? Right?!"

I mean, there are adaptations that are nearly exactly like the middle tier of romance novels. They're movie length and they air on Lifetime. This was a change not only of medium but of overall target audience and vibe.

[tabl3]

(my version) elite force intelligence ranked & explained

this is on a scale of 10, where 5 is the average

Chase: 10/10 (obligatory duh) intelligence is his whole gimmick. he has access to every bit of knowledge in the world, as well as being a master tactician and strategist, along with being a master in engineering/technology. the only spots that he sometimes lacks in are emotional intelligence and street smarts, but he's literally the smartest being ever created (besides Marcus)

Oliver: 7.5-8ish. he's the second smartest on the team in book smarts sense. he's second in street smarts and is very adept at technology/science. he's also decent with emotional intelligence in most cases (ignore the first part of the series lol) he's also maybe the least dense on the team, meaning picks up social cues easily. all-in-all he's plenty smart in every category which lands him a nice high number

Skylar: 7. while she isn't super book or street smart (specifically the latter) her battle strategy and tactic skills are insanely high (maybe rivaling Chase) she's also extremely technologically advanced because her people are. also going back to 1st point, she's like,,, at least 6 in terms of book smarts

Bree: 6. Bree is decently book and street smart (for being in a basement 15 years) assuming she had 7 classes in high school, I feel like she'd probably get like 4 B's and 3 A's, so above average. she's also innovative because she has to be with her bionics. also her experience gives her a leg up in strategy. she is semi-stunted when it comes to emotional intelligence sometimes, but she's good enough at it

Kaz: 4-4.5. he isn't book smart by any means, or good at strategy (besides "hey, let's blow this up :D) he hates science and technology because it's boring to him. but he's leagues above the others in street smarts terms, plus he is an excellent manipulator lol. he's not totally dumb (much smarter than he thinks) but he is lowest on the team

bonus:

6. Leo: 8. Leo had dogshit grades lmao, but that's because his intelligence lies in engineering and science. this kid is a prodigy. the people who rival his skills in inventing are,,, Chase, Giselle, Douglas, Marcus, Donald,,,, so,,, that says enough. he's also very street smart and emotionally intelligent. shout out the Dooley

7. Adam: 3. so surprising no one, blud is the lowest on the list. he's never needed to be intelligent with the fact that his bionics rarely require strategy and he's super OP. the only ones in the whole series that he couldn't solo w/o help of some kind are Krane, Marcus, Mr. Terror, and the Calderans. says enough p.2. the only person on the good side he couldn't crush is Skylar. (even though Bree and Chase are both smarter, faster, and more skilled than he is, if he had no attachment to them, he'd be able to outlast and destroy them) soooo intelligence isn't his schtick. he is however very well-adjusted emotional intelligence-wise for being in the basement 16 years. he's bad at showing feelings, but picks up others' pretty easily. he's also super perceptive of things no one else notices. he also isn't brain-dead and can understand anything on a basic human level. so he has some plusses, but brother just isn't one that needs smarts.