#i never thought they would get back together in any capacity this is insane to me

[solarichor]

2025 acid bath reunion

[aurumalatus]

𝐩𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐚𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝟏

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

genre/warnings. pixelprincess!au (princess!reader x knight!kinich), reposted for formatting lol

summary. a series of random headcanons from the universe! part 1 of many because i have lots of thoughts about these two

author's note. feel free to come scream about some more headcanons with me <3 enjoy!

𝐩𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐚𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

kinich and the princess have known about each other for a long time, but it’s only recently that they’ve really talked a lot and become close (since kinich became your guard)

kinich is a bit more open in this universe because although he grew up an orphan, he was recruited into the guard earlier and taken care of by his fellow trainees and the castle staff. he’s still pretty serious and deadpan at his core but he has a bit of silly in him too 

the maids especially used to dote on him a lot. they would coo about how beautiful his eyes are and sneak him cakes and sweets from the kitchen

kinich and the princess actually had one key interaction when they were children that she doesn’t remember

the princess came down with a bad illness and had to stay in her room for about a week. kinich was assigned guard right outside her room, but she never saw him. still, they used to talk a lot during that week through her door, and she never quite figured out who her temporary friend was.

princess used to be *very* spoiled and she knows this. kinich is one of the only people who knocks her down a peg, and he also taught her how to do a lot of practical things (i.e. cleaning, cooking, weaving) 

kinich takes his shirt off by grabbing the back of his collar and pulling it over his head (idk if i’m describing this well, but the image in my head is INSANE). 

once they actually get together, kinich is the type to kiss the princess’s tears away when she cries (i’m going to scream)

kinich secretly has always known he loved the princess in some capacity, maybe since the day he was inducted as her guard (he looked up into her eyes, knelt before her, and felt something burst in his chest). he doesn’t feel like he deserves her love in return and feels so committed to his duty that he won’t do anything about it.

kinich isn’t afraid of dying, but he’s afraid of leaving the princess alone. it’s the reason why he insists on teaching her so many practical things like fighting—he doesn’t trust anyone else to protect her like he can.

there’s a yearly tournament among the guards (and any citizens that want to enter) that is held to win the royals’ favor. kinich is required to participate due to his position, but he tries a lot harder than he lets on—something about letting another guard win kind of irritates him. he wins your ribbon as a prize, a sign of your personal favor, and keeps it on him at all times. he claims it’s just to prove that you owe him.

kinich is a TERROR in the capital marketplace. sellers love him and hate him—he’s fair, but he barters like HELL. you, on the other hand, are any easy target. you will pay pretty much any price they name, and this irritates kinich greatly.

kinich is in charge of training newer recruits to the guard, and older members will warn them not to mention the princess in front of him. last time someone said something disrespectful about her, kinich had them running laps until the sun came up.

most mornings, kinich trains at sunrise. the princess will come out to join him sometimes, either to just lay down in the grass and talk, or to bring out a picnic

many princesses from other nations are attracted to kinich, but he does not return the sentiment—whenever one tries to talk to him, he acts extremely dry and boring on purpose until they lose interest.

kinich has a lot of piercings, but they're not always optimal to fight in—on days when he expects a battle, he wears a pair of studs that the princess gifted him

the castle maids have a running bet on how long it will take you and kinich to get married. sometimes they try to push it along by telling kinich you're looking for him when you aren't, just to pull the two of you together. the pot is over one million Mora, and at some point, the queen joins as well.

[yuesya]

Twinswap v2: Would Sukuna be able to tell that Shiki isn’t Satoru when they fight? He’s scarily insightful after all

Warning: Description of gore/slight body horror.

.

Looking back on the fight with Gojo Satoru down in that underground station in Shibuya, Choso freely acknowledged that the only reason he and the other Special Grade cursed spirits had survived that encounter at all was due to the regular humans brought in as collateral. They’d all known it, at the time. Gojo Satoru was the strongest sorcerer alive, and in order to bring him low, they needed to resort to unconventional, underhanded means.

If it hadn’t been for Kenjaku –damn that man, for all the suffering he’d caused Choso and his siblings– using Prison Realm to seal Gojo when he did, there’s no doubt that Choso and the other curses would’ve been eventually whittled down one by one.

… He’d always known it, intellectually.

But never had that fact been as obvious as it was now.

Even handicapped by the damage that Prison Realm had done to him, Gojo was still going toe-to-toe against Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses. What initially started off as an operation to flush out and kill Kenjaku once and for all had swiftly turned into an unexpected battle between two sorcerers who resembled calamitous gods more than mortals, when Sukuna appeared without any warning.

Choso stumbles when a particularly harsh tremor rips through the ground, grabs his little brother before the boy falls on his face, and continues running.

“Thanks, Choso!”

“Call me ‘nii-chan,’” Choso reflexively corrects Yuji, entirely on automatic. His little brother doesn’t get a chance to respond, though, because suddenly the building next to them crumbles, debris raining down on them like a rumbling avalanche–

It’s a testament to his brother’s hardiness that he makes it through with only a few scratches. Still, Choso can feel his heart pounding –if Yuji had been a second slower avoiding any of those jagged pieces of concrete, propelled with enough force to put literal holes into the ground…

He determinedly shakes the thought out of his mind.

Around them, other sorcerers are also running. Fleeing the fight between the two titans taking place behind them, in order not to get caught up as inadvertent casualties –or unwilling distractions for Gojo, hindrances in every sense of the word. If only Prison Realm hadn’t caused the man to–

“Who are you?”

Sukuna’s growling voice is a low rumble around their ears. And Gojo–

Laughs.

“Y’know, you’re the first to actually ask me that?” The man stretches, then claps his hands together. “Whew, okay. That’s enough for a warm-up, I think! I guess the ‘King of Curses’ really isn’t an opponent to take on while I’m only operating at half capacity.”

Incredulously, Choso glances around the literal field of destruction, where half the surrounding landscape has already been leveled flat, then back towards the insane sorcerer.

Half capacity? Half capacity??

… Wait, what does he mean? Isn’t his Limitless–

“Ho? Quite full of yourself, aren’t you?”

Gojo shrugs, and folds his hands together in a seal in front of himself. “I’m not accustomed to this body, and this body isn’t accustomed to me, either. I’m good with Limitless, but not that good. I’ll need to modify this body a little bit so I can properly use it… mm…”

Cursed energy crackles, and–

Not one to stand by idly while his opponent was clearly preparing something, Sukuna launches another attack, flanked by the Ten Shadows shikigami at his side. Mahoraga, the other sorcerers had whispered. The crown jewel of the Zenin Clan–

Gojo isn’t moving.

Gojo isn’t moving.

Whatever he’s doing that requires so much of his concentration to remain still has him even disengaging his Limitless barrier. The attacks land point-blank, and the air is filled with blood and mangled flesh–

“Gojo-sensei!”

The gory mess of flesh twitches.

Then–

Rises, twisting, binding and pulling itself together into a humanoid shape, but it’s… not right. It’s not right. Muscles and sinews twist over pale white bones, stopping at a height that’s considerably shorter than Gojo’s original form. New skin grows in pale patches, covering the raw red flesh rapidly right before their eyes, except the shape is… petite, curved, and undeniably female.

The thing that was once Gojo Satoru throws its head back, long white hair flowing around its naked body like a river of snow-white silk.

Cursed blue eyes blink open. Dark and eldritch, and most definitely not the Six Eyes.

“Gojo-sensei…?” Yuji takes a small, aborted step forward, retracing his steps towards the direction of his once-teacher, but Choso immediately throws out an arm to stop him.

In hindsight, everything is blindingly clear.

“… That’s not Gojo Satoru,” he says grimly, voice terse.

The thing that rose out of the powerful sorcerer’s body raises its arms. Flexes its hands, and shifts its weight, testing its range of motion.

“Not bad,” it says, bouncing slightly in an almost childish motion.

A woman? Who–?

Sukuna hums, a faintly intrigued sound, despite the drastic turn of events that no one could’ve predicted. Then he opens his mouth, and Choso can feel the way his blood runs cold.

“Your name, cursed spirit?”

A mischievous giggle.

“Gojo Shiki.”

[thevioletcaptain]

the ashes by imogenbynight

1.2k | mature | deancas

a 13.01 coda with dean scattering cas' ashes. technically this is canon compliant but i feel like i need to trigger warn for like… cannibalism? not really but. man. idk.

Dean sits with the ashes when they get back to the bunker. Sits with them and stares and goes a little insane with it, until he can’t stop imagining himself cracking open the lid and reaching his fingers inside.

Would Cas be soft? Chalky, velvety, like the white-charred remnants of driftwood after a bonfire? Would he be rough as his voice; as the sand his pyre had been built upon?

With a belly full of fire and whisky and desperate unease, he stares and stares as his thoughts spiral. As he thinks about pressing his damp index finger into the ash and raising it to his mouth. Swallowing it down and letting Cas become a part of him.

He could keep Cas forever that way; absorbed into his being.

Fuck, he can’t stop thinking about it.

Years ago, they worked a case where a young couple had been so frantic with love, intensified to the trillionth degree by the cruel touch of famine, that they'd eaten one another alive. Torn into each other's flesh with teeth as they clung together, ecstatic and bloody. Dean remembers feeling as confused as he was revolted by what had seemed to him a far-too-literal leap from desire to hunger.

Now, though, he kind of understands it.

Because it wasn't hunger, exactly, that lead to such a violent conclusion. It was need, followed through to its inevitable end. And he gets it now. Gets wanting to take the one you love into yourself and keep them there always. To hold them so wholly that they become a part of you, so you can never be parted again.

Of course, that's the thing that stops him, in the end. Not what should have stopped him--not the sick, visceral horror of what ultimately equates to eating his best friend's remains, no matter how he spins it--but the fact that tying Cas to himself in such an irreversible way feels like a betrayal. A punishment to Cas' spirit, however much of it still exists. He can't do that. Can't force whatever part of Cas' grace or soul might linger in the ash to endure however many years Dean has left as a part of him. Can't tether Cas so selfishly in death when Cas had never seemed to want to stay with him in life.

Cas might have been the love of Dean's miserable fucking life, but he's not under any illusions that the feeling ran both ways.

He learned early that it wasn't even possible--learned before he'd even fully slipped into loving Cas himself. Learned before he ever could have known how important it would be to him. Anna had told him, point blank, and he'd seen the difference in her. Human, feeling; angel, cold. And sure, Cas has come a long way -- had come along way by the end. He feels. Dean knows he feels, and feels for him, in particular. But his capacity for it is limited, and it's never been clearer than in his ability to leave Dean behind at a moment's notice. He's detached. Was detached.

So he can't force Cas to be a part of him. Would never forgive himself.

When he had eventually started falling, he'd hoped the knowledge that nothing could ever come of it would help keep him from toppling headfirst into something deeper than a fleeting infatuation. He hadn't been so lucky.

And now here he is, staring down a can labeled Cafe Bustelo Medium Roast and thinking the kind of thoughts that make his stomach turn in endlessly cycling fits of longing and revulsion, all because he fell in love.

It's half past five in the morning when he decides he can't keep the ashes in the bunker. Can't have the sick temptation. Less because he thinks he's actually going to do it, and more because he knows he won't be able to stop thinking about it whenever he sees the tin. So he scoops up the tin, and creeps down to the garage to the Impala, and drives west on US-36. 

Keeps driving until the rising sun starts turning the sky in his rearview a pale shade of pink, and he sees a few lonely lightning bugs blinking in and out of view on an quiet roadside near Phillipsburg.

He's pulled over before he's consciously decided to do so.

It's a pretty spot, is his first thought. Tall grass and scattered wildflowers spanning the open meadow which slopes down to a stream. A rusted old windmill stands vigil over the scene, slowly spinning in the gentle breeze.

Cas would like it here, is his second thought. Would gaze up at the windmill and make some observation about the ingenuity of human invention, and crouch down to watch the fireflies as they gently sink back into the grass at the arrival of the sun. 

The image is so clear in Dean's mind that he forgets, just for a second, that Cas is gone. Or-- he doesn't forget, exactly. He just isn't thinking about it so directly. Is so focused on the visual of Cas in the tall grass beside him, on the memory of his voice and the way his long fingers would look dipping between blade of grass that when he looks back down at his hands, at the coffee can he's holding with white-knuckled grip, the reminder of why he's here is harsh enough to leave him winded.

"I woulda brought you here," he says once he's caught his breath, like Cas can hear him, but it's a lie. They rarely had downtime, and whenever they did Cas almost always took off. Dean was lucky to get him to stick around long enough to watch a movie, most of the time. But he'd have wanted to bring him here. That much is true. He would have wanted to.

"I hope--" he starts, then stops, drawing his lip between his teeth and looking first to the sky, then to the ground, then just closing his eyes. Taking several deep breaths. "Man... Cas. Cas, I hope you're--"

Okay. Safe. Alright. Fuck, but all the words he has equate to alive, and with me, and whole, and underneath them all an unwavering current of coming home soon. Anything else feels like another lie. His throat clicks on a swallow.

"I hope you're happy," he says finally, and pries the can open. Stares down at the small cloud of ash that rises with it. "I'm gonna miss you for fucking ever, but wherever you are... I really hope you're happy."

With the windmill at his back, and the field of flowers spread out before him, he lets Cas' ashes run through his fingers as he gives him over to the earth, and he doesn't notice the texture at all. He's too busy thinking about how Cas' hand felt in his the last time he'd helped him to stand. How heavy he'd been, then. How light he is now.

It's not until he's preparing to return to his car, wrung out and cracked open and raw as an exposed nerve, that he notices the thin cut on his ring finger. He must have nicked it on the coffee can, or the fence, or the dry grass, and it doesn't hurt, but-- his blood is swelling from it in a bright red drop, and his hands are dusty with ash. His heart lurches at the sight of Cas' ash and his own blood mingling.

He raises his finger to his mouth.

Cas is holy on his tongue.

[also on ao3]

[dirtbra1n]

WAIT I FORGOT ABOUT KRISNIX VS WRIGHTWORTH

HI SUNNFISH it’s been eight days and I’m not getting any work done right now anyway. Ha ha ha ha. I’m gonna go dig up some of my nutjob krisnix hashtag #Posts

okay that done I’m actually gonna talk about wrightworth first. baby’s first yaoi probably It makes sense and it compels me.

really really beautiful thing about wrightworth is how many people go into the first ace attorney thinking that the prevalence of attorney yaoi is a result of typical fandom behavior and get blasted with the concentrated blast of shu takumi’s vision of how chronically strange normal guy phoenix wright decided to completely change the trajectory of his life for one of his boy best friends from the 4th grade. unnecessary feelings and its ramifications. miles edgeworth choosing death gate. the ugly ways phoenix does not cope with this, on account of his many issues. redacted hospital scene. sundry textual instances of phoenix’s well-adjustment re: edgeworth shot at the player point blank. miles edgworth That man… gate. wrightworth is so fucking much you guys……..

I do not see either of these two biting the bullet to establish a formally romantic relationship in any capacity until they are well into their thirties. they need to be extraordinarily strange at and about one another for decades on end and then elope on a thursday afternoon, which will not ease up the strangeness but will grant them various legal benefits. love wins! Longer post would talk about how and why they’re weird. but I need to talk ab

sunnfish when I tried the media tab first for collected krisnix miscellany I passed this and it made me cry laugh

I need to talk about krisnix

trying to pin down my deepest rooted beliefs is like pulling teeth. You know there was a time where apparently I saw nothing interesting about kristoph. I’ve become a better and weirder person in the meantime. it makes sense. it compels me. ha ha ha ha.

^ 2dirt2brain krisnix breakdown of december ’23. of which we’re all very aware I’m sure. kristoph wants control of the world around him and is as incapable of fulfilling that desire as any mortal man. phoenix has a lot more free time nowadays. regular dinners together. seven years. play hooky, get hooked. unkillable phoenix wright. you can’t fake an affection that long—seven years. come on, now. get back to the office after they take him in and slump a little. you ought to say, now or never, that you kinda like the guy.

you’ve (🫵 not him) got to know that phoenix wright is a hard as hell guy to know We’ve compared him to tashiro before sunnfish I know this. he doesn’t open up. clam shut tight of course I think we should give kristoph a paring knife to try and crack him open. just can’t trust him with knives bigger than that one.

like of course the psychosexual warfare is the main thing. but seven years together and zero reason to believe that the guy who cost you your attorneys badge would murder anyone means seven years of some of the heartiest insane appealing-directly-to-me Situation the world has ever, ever seen. some of this is psychosexual warfare. everything else is a secret worse thing.

I think flawed attorney and devastatingly loyal man phoenix wright should try to save kristoph’s life. bet you never thought you’d care this much about capital punishment, huh, phoenix?

also kristoph should be time looped

now considering the VS. statistically I trust more people with wrightworth because the sheer numbers go crazy. I trust myself and my friends with krisnix more however because krisnix is fundamentally custom built for me to chew on and bite into. two cakes. we should put edgeworth and kristoph in a cage match. I think they just WOULD NOT get along, separate from phoenix entirely. tear each other’s dicks off!!!!!

as a bonus here is a short list of things that remind me of krisnix

boris by lo-fang

that myth about a dog locking its jaws as it bites into you

magnet poem I spent actual hours laboriously stitching together whilst listening to kristoph’s solitary confinement theme

Also munchausen by proxy have I said that already

and of course the second bonus:

[laysdimplesareillegal]

Character Development: Chapter 3

Pairing: Monsta X Changkyun x Reader

Word Count: 909

Warnings: yandere themes, kidnapping, general delusion, angst

Character Development Masterlist

He had a soft smile as he said my name again.

“Stay away from me,” I tried to keep my tone level.

“What are you doing? Were you about to make lunch?” He sounded honestly curious as he looked around at the counters and tried to peer over my shoulder.

“Don’t patronize me. I know you’re the one who brought me here. If you come any closer to me, I’ll kill you.”

Changkyun looked at me the way someone would look at a helpless child. He took one step towards me, and I instinctively reached for the cup I had planted on the stove. I can throw this at him at least. But when I grabbed hold of it, the ceramic seared my hand and I screamed with everything I had. Dropping the cup shattered it, making me clench the knife in my other hand harder; my nails dug into my palms. Ceramic pieces littered the floor. With a worried look Changkyun took another step forward.

“Get away from me,” I said again, waving the knife around like I knew what to do with it. The next thing I knew, there was a polished gun just outside my reach.

“Drop the knife.”

I see now that I had quite literally brought a knife to a gun fight. Instantly, I dropped the knife, and felt the sinking weight of defeat on my chest. He kicked the knife away and approached me with a pitying expression.

“Let me see your hand,” Changkyun reached for my wrist, and we had an awkward push and pull when I attempted to fight him off. “Stop resisting,” he shouted, I froze. “I don’t want you stepping on any of the shards.”

At this point, I didn’t care about stepping on something, I just wanted to be as far away from this creep as possible.

“Go run your hand under some cold water and I’ll clean your mess up.” I wanted to make a run for the door, but I knew he’d intercept me. “If I’d known you were this accident prone, I never would have left you alone this long,” he commented, walking back in with a broom. Unsure of what to do, I stood quietly with my hand under the running water. “Stay put and I’ll be right back. I have some burn ointment.”

So, he worried about me, to some capacity at least. On his way back, he turned off the music that had been playing in the background. The house felt soulless without it.

“Do you like it? It’s just a hobby of mine.” I let him guide me to the couch where he dried off my hand and treated it. He rattled on, “To be honest I wasn’t sure if I wanted you to find it, but if you enjoy it that’s all that matters to me.” There was a long pause that hung heavy between us. Eventually, “Why won’t you answer me?” he looked at me with large, despondent eyes.

I avoided eye contact.

“I asked you a question.” His voice was stern again. He grabbed my face and forced me to look him in the eyes. “When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer me.”

“I hate you.”

“You can’t hate me-” he laughed “-you don’t even know me.”

Exactly, I thought.

“Now, I know everything about you. Which is why I was able to give you such a nice home. Anything you could ever need is right here. I waited until I could provide everything for you.”

Waited? “How long did you have to wait?” I asked hesitantly.

“Years.” My eyes grew wide. “You know we used to go to the same university. I don’t know if you recognize me, I worked at the rec there. Checking people in and stuff.”

Oh m—this man is more insane than I could have imagined.

“I was a couple years ahead of you. I remember when you were a freshman. You really don’t remember me?”

How do I know what to say to that, of course I don’t remember someone I might have seen years ago. “Uh, yeah actually I think I do!”

“Don’t lie to me.” Changkyun curtly shut me down, so he was a lie detector too huh? “But that doesn’t matter, that was a long time ago. What matters is that we’re together now! You don’t know how happy I am to finally have you here. What do you think of it?”

I couldn’t tell if this man was hostile or naive, but if I had to respond and he didn’t like me lying, “it’s a prison.”

He deflated. “You don’t mean that.” Collecting the ointment and the bandages, Changkyun stood up to set them on the kitchen counter.

“No, I do.” I got up too, “I hate it here. You’re a psycho and a freak and you kidnapped me! I want nothing to do with you! I hate everything to do with you!” My yelling echoed through the vacuous house.

“SHUT UP!” I had his gun pointed to me again. He had a furious grip and an aggrieved look, “Say you didn’t just say those mean things. Apologize to me now.”

“I would rather die.” Tears of pure rage streamed down my face. “Kill me now and get this over with,” I sniffed.

With a serious expression he fired his gun. Life began to play in slow motion.

I was really going to die.

[paintedvanilla]

Hi! Sorry if you’ve already answered this, but what inspired your takes on Jack’s extended family in your fics?

hi!! sorry it took me so long to answer this ask, i was going to wait to answer it until i finished my most recent fic, but then i posted that and i just. didn't have the energy. so!! hi!!

i don't really have a specific source of inspiration for my choices about the narrator's extended family. i've always enjoyed writing ensemble stuff. i think my decisions for the narrator's family dynamics were based on my own interpretations of his characterization and influenced by my own biases and probably other various subconscious trains of thought happening in my brain. but nevertheless here's a breakdown of each decision!!

his mother: the narrator was raised by a single mom from the age of six onward, that much is obvious from the source material. i mostly work off of the film, because i've watched it so many times its details are more readily available for me to recall. i get the sense that his mom is no nonsense but also a bit of a pushover when she doesn't feel like putting up a fight, which is often. she was not the most attentive but that's not entirely fair to say because she was a single mom. i think the narrator's family was quite poor growing up, especially once his dad left, and she was working to support him and his sister. i think she's relatively soft spoken and quite reserved.

his father: obviously for this one i had way more of a base to work with, just based on the way the narrator talks about his dad in the film and the book. he's an asshole. he doesn't really give a fuck about the narrator. i do believe the narrator and his sister were this man's first kids. he did not marry their mother. he's never married any of the women he gets involved with. i think he's a scumbag. the narrator is, actually, genuinely, his only son. all his other kids are girls, which i think plays a huge factor in when he skips town. it has to do both with when the woman he's involved with starts to become boring to him, and when the oldest daughter he's fathered from this particular woman starts to like. become conscious and develop a personality. The whole:

"Often father and daughter look down on mother (woman) together. They exchange meaningful glances when she misses a point. They agree that she is not bright as they are, cannot reason as they do. This collusion does not save the daughter from the mother’s fate."

the sister: i chose for the narrator to have a sister, particularly an older sister, because i examined his character and something about me just led me to the conclusion that he FEELS like a younger brother to an older sister. she's about two years older than him. she's really good at pretending to enjoy herself. where the narrator utilizes apathy as a coping mechanism for the Everything about being alive, his sister swings hard in the other direction and uses enthusiasm and toxic positivity. i have more i'd like to explore with her, i think she definitely has the capacity to be more insane, and i think the narrator would love to see that. they have a relationship where, as soon as she was old enough to talk endlessly about any given subject, she would use the narrator as an audience. especially when they were teenagers. she could talk at him for hours while he sat in silence and afterwards she'd be like, "ok good talk" and he'd just give her a thumbs up. he knows she'll be back, same time tomorrow. it doesn't bother him. and i think he does listen, sometimes, halfway, he retains some of the details. after he moved for his job, she would call him and continue to do the same thing, and he didn't mind because he doesn't have a lot else going on. he doesn't have any friends. no one else is calling him. she stopped doing it after she got married because now she had a husband to subject to this, but now that she's getting divorced i think the narrator will be hearing from her more. also, he walked her down the aisle at her wedding. and five minutes before he did this, he told her that if she didn't want to go through with it, he'd help her leave her fiance at the alter. she played it off like he was making a bad joke, but he was being 100% dead serious.

the brother-in-law: i made the decision for the brother in law to just be fucking. lame. because i thought it would be funny if the narrator's sister is married to just like. the pinnacle of everything the narrator never wants to be. like, the narrator is also lame, but at least the narrator is having good sex and is getting the shit beat out of him on the regular and doesn't actually believe in any of the mission statements of his company. the bil is like the polar opposite of tyler, and the narrator thinks no one should settle for less. he's always hated his bil, has a vague inclination that his sister deserves better, but is still consumed by apathy so has never really done anything about it.

the nephew: the nephew is probably the least developed out of everyone here, which is really ironic because my idea for his character is basically that. he has a lot of the same ambitions that the narrator and his sister originally had, but is putting more of the sister's energy into it. that is, until he gets to college and completely fucking spins out. he drops out after one semester and becomes addicted to smoking weed. he'd be a walking panic attack otherwise. i think he made himself so sick about what he wanted to do with his life he just gave up. now he works at a smoke shop and is almost always high.

the niece, aka danny: i have to thank @rabbitmotifs for really pushing me into developing this little menace. when i first wrote "the idolatry of suburbia" i wanted to keep everything really light and vague because i was not ready to come to terms with the fact that these are technically oc's. but holly really pushed me into evolving danny's personality until i was eventually brave enough to pick out a name for her and employ it. you can fit so much lore into this kid. danny thinks her uncles hung the fucking moon, tyler durden is her favorite person in the universe, even after he snapped at her in my most recent fic. danny definitely has more inclinations towards batshit insane behavior and she indulges them without really questioning them, so when she's with her uncles she doesn't feel ostracized for just being herself. she loves these men. and she's definitely got some gender things going on. if you see her emulating tyler's portrayals of masculinity, no you didn't (she'll get embarrassed).

and as an extra special bonus, tyler's people:

tyler's mom aka mable durden: listen i was really pondering my orb for this one and it just came to me like a fucking premonition. i disregard everything tyler says in the movie about "his" family, i think these are just projections of the narrator's relationships, so tyler is practically a blank slate. and the idea that tyler never knew his father at all, that he was abusive towards his mother so she left him before he was even born, that durden is his mother's maiden name?? oh that shit made me fucking bonkers. i didn't know how to handle it when the thought first occurred to me. tyler gets ALL his mannerisms from his mother, he siphoned like his whole personality off of her. she's The cigarette mom of all time. i think she could be very mean, but it's because she was over worked and poor and dead fucking tired all the time. she loved tyler a lot. she was the type who interpreted "physical affection with your kids" as "roughhousing" and this obviously influenced tyler in many many ways. she's the reason the way he shows love and affection is not through words but through actions and physical affection. she's also the reason he's addicted to nicotine. and i do believe she was a chronic complainer of her son being taller than her.

sam: ok i'll be totally completely honest i read "the parts of your hand grenade heart" by @grave-the-demon and i was BOMBARDED with the "tyler having a sister" spores. i added sam into my draft of "every man you've ever been" VERY late in the writing process. but i didn't want to just. steal the dynamic away from grace so i changed my answer a little bit so i wouldn't be accused of plagiarism. sam is like a sister to tyler. she's going to be his friend for his entire life, but he does not have such a connection to her that he can remain stationary for her. he'd only stay still in one spot for two people: his mother and the narrator. also, i need everyone to understand that sam is like. really hot. like she's so fucking strong and super fucking sexy in a Gay Woman type of way but the narrator has never been attracted to women a day in his life so he just doesn't perceive her as attractive so it never gets stated in the text. but please know this.

i'll be honest, i made the decision when writing "the idolatry of suburbia" to give the sister one boy and one girl because i didn't want the narrator to refer to anyone other than by their identifiers: my mom, my sister, my brother-in-law, my niece, my nephew. this continues in "every man you've ever been" whereas all the characters introduced in relation to tyler are given real names: mable durden, samantha hanes. and in "see me on the eight o'clock news" danny is only given a name when sam points out the presence of a relationship between her and tyler. sam mentions that danny seems more related to tyler than to the narrator, asks for her name, and it is immediately stated. prior, even in that fic, the narrator had only referred to her as "my niece" because i'm a creative writing student and i need to be playing 8D chess all the time.

anyway, that's my little spiel. thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[lestappenforever]

Hi. I just wanted to say I love how rational you are. Your answers to asks are so well thought out and thoughtful as well as kind. So keep being amazing.

As for Lestappen going mainstream, there are two sides to it. One is that Max haters want Max to be a villain so badly. They want everyone to hate him and especially the F1 prince (he’s a princess but to each their own I guess) but what they don’t know is Charles loves Max and vice versa. They are the same, they see themselves in each other. Two, Lestappies are also scared because we have a bubble here on tumblr and Ao3 (X doesn’t count because that place is toxic AF) People don’t want that bubble bursted because once it is and Max/Charles get a whiff or any negativity they might start hiding their interactions. But the thing is, of course they know people ship them, just about any celebrity knows people ship them with whatever other person out there, the problem would be breaking the fourth wall and just being outright insane about wanting them to be together or harassing them and their partners about this.

Do people really think if both Max and Charles were not happy about it they’d allow their teams to post about them with the actual ship name??

Also, we have Carlando. Everyone and their grandmother knows about Carlando. Both Carlos and Lando use that ship name. So does Carlos’ dad, F1 commentators etc. So why should Lestappen be any different? Yes there are people out there with no value for basic human decency and lack of common sense but if we are all respectful, I don’t see why Lestappen can’t be as fun as Carlando and even way better. So if some people think they are doing the nasty behind their gfs backs that’s on them, but keep it to yourself or fandom spaces don’t go to Max and Charles or their partners with that bs and that includes their comments or tagging them in whatever. We don’t know the extent of their relationship whatever they are to each other makes them happy and we should be happy for them too.

Looking forward to today’s podium (Lestappen 1-2) and their honeymoon in Las Vegas as per F1 Las Vegas suggested 😉

Good evening, my darling anon! Thank you so much for your kind words. I love getting asks, and this fandom makes me so happy, so I'm very glad to hear that you think that’s reflected in the way I answer asks. ❤️

And you are absolutely right, with everything you've said. Max haters will make Max out to be the villain he isn’t no matter what, and that’s never going to change. But they will be free to live in their delusion because there is no denying that not only do Max and Charles respect each other, they also like each other. Genuinely. The people who can’t deal with that are going to keep trying to convince themselves of a reality that doesn’t exist, which is fine. What isn’t fine is trying to force their narrative on people who clearly disagree with it.

As for them being aware of people shipping them: Oh, absolutely. Shipping is everywhere, and if they were truly uncomfortable with the concept of Lestappen, their teams would not be posting about it on main. It’s that simple. But keeping certain parts of shipping, like fanfics, far away from the people of the ship is a given anywhere, with any ship, in any fandom. That’s something that’s meant to be fun for fans, and nobody should be pushing those things onto the people involved, their partners, their families etc., in any capacity. That’s simply a matter of common decency, and being a reasonable human being.

Shipping is supposed to be fun, and if you take it to the real world and the real people involved, it stops being fun and starts being incredibly uncomfortable for everyone involved. Let’s stay in our little bubble and be happy here, and take the Lestappen content we get on main with open arms.

Oh, babe, me too. I'm manifesting a Lestappen podium with everything I have, and I am so excited for this race.

I absolutely love your take on this whole thing, anon, and your logic is flawless. I love you. ❤️

[helianskies]

hello!! could you maybe tell us about wales and spain? 👀 i'm curious!

hello anon! this is for you: 🍪 and while you munch, we can talk. i mean, i'm not sure what to say without getting too specific or niche, because they are a very new thought to me. but...

something about them together just works to me, especially in terms of personality. there's something about them being the 'looks like a cinnamon roll but will actually kill you' types that i find interesting. i see them being perhaps a bit more devious together, more supported, more at ease, more unrestrained. it's one of those ships i would stick in an au rather than nationverse, probably, though i admit there's comedic potential in grabbing the whole bft and matching them up with england's brothers, just to torment him hehe.

to try and keep it simple, i feel they have the same capacity for good as they do for chaos. i feel like they could be the secret antagonists in a horror film, or the villains of a fantasy story (i totally have not been thinking). i feel that people may easily forget that behind kind eyes lies something perhaps more sinister, or broken, or desperate. there's potential in both of them, i think, to get creative and dark, as well as allowing for softer and slice-of-life moments. and when i put them next to each other, that seems to only get better.

otherwise, i feel this is balanced out by how... nice they are. how simply they would live. the way they would live day-to-day, easy, relaxed, cosy. i love the image of them stood together on the welsh coast, near the edge of a cliff, just staring out across the water while the wind whips around them - followed by a picnic in the grass, a flask of tea, some cake that rhys baked specially. i need them to own a plant store-come-café. i want them to huddle on a single armchair wrapped up in a blanket while they wait for the house to warm up. they're both terrible back-seat drivers. their music tastes do not align. but they laugh so easily and wholly together. they will watch any and every nature documentary they can find. toni will cling and hover and fuss and rhys will not protest. they toss and turn like mad but somehow never startle each other in the night. and when they both wake up with bedheads, still droopy as they make their morning drinks, it's just... bliss. being around each other is sometimes all they need.

i just. i get different things from them in different aus, and i enjoy that versatility. i enjoy having toni in one hand, and a character who i feel mirrors him in certain ways that mean they are likely to get on, and get on well. i hope that all makes sense. i like pairings who are chalk and cheese, like i like pairings where they have some things in comon - but this one just seems to go a step further. a bit like russpa, i guess, but... somehow more. you know? they could be so, so soft, and so, so insane. i love it...

[fuckzachariah]

Zach swallowed dryly as the atmosphere in the room swelled and thickened, their rehashing of old feelings upturning dirt that had been packed in tightly for years. The change infected him like liquor, made him dizzy, made him think that doing things like taking her face in his hands and sinking into her mouth made any sense. She buzzed in his veins, warmed him up from the inside. His jaw feathered as he resisted saying something too direct, too insane. His hands, having been resting on his raised knees, ran down his shins to the floor, fingers drumming faintly into the marble. “I know I did,” he confessed quietly, voice rumbling low. He blinked into the crimson darkness, shapes only faintly appearing before him, adjacent to real life but not quite real enough to sell him on consequence. It swaddled him, lulled him into a delirious sense of safety. Like he could keep saying things, keep pushing, at the boundaries they’d both thrown up to protect themselves. To protect the lives they'd built, the people they loved.

“I knew. I didn’t always let myself feel it, but I still knew.” He whetted his lips with his tongue, turning his chin faintly in her direction, loathing that he possessed the capacity now to treat the knowledge of her love with the care it needed. Only, he didn't have that knowledge. All he had was hope, and the pounding in his chest, the heat rising in his blood. Her perfume sent him reeling; her skin emanated with the rosemilk of her lotion, begging him closer. And he had known. She’d told him once, and it was enough; why else would she stay? He had loved her, too. More than anything else he was, or breathed, he loved her. Except he had been all wrong inside. Even in his bouts of sobriety, his head wasn’t clear, his world ever-askew. He couldn’t now apply real sense to most of his actions back then, even if he tried. He had thought he was doing the right thing, but really there had been no right thing. Really, they had needed to go their separate ways when she’d tried it the first time. Before he’d almost buried himself to get her back. They always needed to diverge to learn how to converge again.

But what did it mean that she was saying all this now? Perhaps she, too, was just high on their circumstance. It was all so uncanny, so perfectly afflicting. But what if it wasn’t that? Only delirium. What if she was going somewhere with it? It all felt so curiously applicable to the present, even if their explicit topic dealt solely with their past. It was too blatant to be a mistake - wasn’t it? Zach’s hands drew back on the ground, edging towards her, the heels of his palms clammy with uncertainty whining over the marble. Alex looked at him; he felt the air jump and ebb with her movement, and somewhere in the dim the feeling of her eyes on him burned still. She admitted that the memory had come to her later, and how it had felt more like a damnation than a comfort. He understood, though it stung. If he had such a promise to hold onto, he never would’ve given his own life a chance from holding onto theirs together. He knew this with certainty. He wondered if her guilt had been borne only of her terminal kindness, or these unshakeable feelings she spoke of.

“Well, you know,” he began slowly. Gently, his fingers extended out to trace the outside of her wrist, bumping into her tennis bracelet, then culling her nervous hand from beneath her thigh with care. He set his hand atop hers on the floor, and turned his face to the ceiling. A hot trill darted up his spine at the contact. “Maybe a little guilt is healthy,” he taunted, a small smile crawling over his mouth. “But… It's good. That you did,” Zach finally concluded, the humor leaving his tone. “Move on, I mean.” His fingers dropped between the gaps in hers, surpassing the bulge of her engagement ring. His skin prickled. She felt so delicate beneath him. “I fucked up. Beyond forgiveness. I’m glad you did something for yourself for once.” His voice sank lower as his boldness bolstered, thumb running up and down the outside of her hand, her pinky finger. “And if you hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here. Now.” His face turned to her, hand halting and tautening over top of hers, thumb looping to press into the underside of her wrist. Anything we had to do to get here, I’d do a hundred times over, he held onto with clamped teeth, swallowed it down without breathing it aloud. His actual breath was audibly staggered. “I can feel your pulse,” he whispered.

Alex observed his expressive gestures, his fingers erupting like a miniature explosion while a playful burst of air escaped his lips. She joined in, savoring the shared moment with soft laughter. Looking back, she realized how difficult it had been to interpret their interactions as anything other than a rejection. Zach had a way of delicately intertwining his fingers with her threads, hoisting her up by the rod, and with a gentle tilt of his wrist, manipulating her to his liking. Whenever he beckoned, she would answer with her wistful, fawn eyes and tender smile, ready to give him everything he desired. Although he never explicitly deceived her, there was surely a part of him that understood her unwavering love, even as he forbade her from expressing it openly. It would have been unrealistic to expect her to endure such a challenging situation otherwise. The notion of maintaining a purely platonic friendship seemed absurd, especially given the constant allure and temptation that surrounded them. Beautiful women adored him, worshipping every single step he took. Some may have harbored suspicions about the true nature of their relationship, yet they willingly risked it all for the chance to spend a night beside Hollywood’s most notorious playboy, even if they never heard from him again or became just another nameless contact in his phone.

Isaaq had been captivated by her right from the beginning. His advances were subtle yet were noticed promptly by Zach. They had once argued about it, each trying to convince the other that they were content with the arrangement and harbored no trace of jealousy. However, it was Isaaq’s decision to push the boundaries of their once innocent flirtation that sent Alex into a spiral of panic. Until that moment, she had vehemently denied any history beyond being close friends with Zach. Therefore, it was not surprising that Isaaq felt emboldened to ask for more, craving something tangible he could hold in his hands. His desire for her was palpable, but Alex could not bring herself to surrender to another man. Doing so would signify the end of whatever she shared with Zach, and deep down, she was not prepared to let him go. With champagne and saccharine liquor bottles forming the backbone of her resolve, Alex clumsily attempted to lead him astray. It was a desperate final effort to salvage what they had, but instead, it led them straight to their downfall. Even now, she wondered what might have unfolded if she had reacted differently. Perhaps she could have downplayed the situation, sought forgiveness, and blamed her actions on the influence of alcohol. The next morning would present an opportunity to revisit the conversation with clear heads, but Alex’s honesty was a double-edged sword.

She wore her heart on her sleeve and was a terrible liar. She wanted Zach to feel the sting of her hurt just as keenly as she did. The repercussions of that fateful evening were profound and continued to cast ripples into the present moment. Alex was cautious with her words, guarding her true feelings even as Zach made his bold confessions. She felt a pang of regret for having mentioned it, realizing that she had now unleashed emotions she would struggle to contain on her own. She swallowed hard, her hand instinctively seeking refuge beneath her thigh. Nervously, her fingers danced against her supple skin, a silent manifestation of her inner anxiety. A wry smile formed on her lips at the implication that he had, in fact, used her vulnerability against her — a truth she couldn’t deny. “But you knew all along,” she continued. “It wasn’t just that moment; we both know that those feelings don’t just go away, no matter how hard we try to contain them.” Glancing over at him, she allowed her gaze to linger on his silhouette, his lips a tantalizing distraction as they shaped each syllable like a dream. Shaking her head in response to his question, she felt her nails dig deeper into her skin, “No,” she admitted, her voice wavering slightly. “I remembered much later, during my treatment, when I was trying to make sense of everything. But I’ve been trying to bury it ever since. Then maybe I wouldn’t have to feel so guilty for leaving, for trying to move on.”

[beatsboy]

4.7

new dorian electra. new feelings. newer than yesterday. feeling different than the morning before. still so much to do. so much to decide. realizing, over and over again, that this is my life, and do i make the same mistake, or do i choose the same convictions, no matter their consequences? was my mother an idiot for continuing to bring people in her home, trying to save every person who trusted her? was it all performative? just one white woman trying to atone for her sins and the sins of her husband? am i doing the same thing? at what point do i choose my own peace. he says trust your gut, trust your intuition--my intuition tells me not to bring more chaos into this house, but my head, my higher morality tells me that i am never in the position not to help someone, especially someone in my own community. maybe i need to accept that not everyone will like me for good.

thinking about CX all the time. telling myself that doesn't mean i'm in love with her.

this text.

CX: love u &lt;3

CX: thank u for always taking care of me.

me: thanks for saying it back

i always tell her i love her before i say goodbye. and each time, she hasn't said it back. i always wait for the last possible minute, of course. right before the car door shuts behind her, before she disappears down the street. right as the call ends. before her face vanishes from my screen. that was last night. but she said it back this time.

i know she loves me, i know i love her; it's just difficult to figure out how exactly that love flows sometimes.

i still miss TB. i miss him more than anything. maybe not as much as i've missed her every day of the last year. i missed her even when i thought/knew i was right, when i stood by my decisions. i know i can't be her boyfriend. that has always stood in my way. i know that she can never be mine. but i also know, in a way, inherently, that she is and always will be mine. and i don't know if i'm obsessed with the power trip this makes me feel when we're out together and i am the only thing she can focus on, or the way it drives me insane when i'm not, but i just know--somehow--that no matter who she loves, fucks, or trusts, i will always be there in the back of her mind.

but for a minute--i just need to relinquish this information. lately, when i'm around her, it takes every ounce of will in my body to not kiss her. when we were laying in my bed, on edge for any sound of jo coming home, breathing in waves, the way sapphics intended sexual tension to be, i just couldn't help but want to grab her, savor it, and then, as it does, i broke the spell. we made some comment about almost falling asleep, but that's not it. that's never it. we weren't on the edge of falling asleep. we were on the edge of fucking.

and maybe that's easier to say aloud, because that's what we used to do. for two people who are so adamently sexual in public, we always waited for the quiet of night to finally give in. right before we fell asleep, back at my house in buena park, we would kiss in the dark, and then, sometimes (often times) more. her mouth between my legs, her thigh between my legs, my hand in between hers, a drop of saliva the only layer between my thumb and her skin.

i order her food so she'll eat; i know this is not tiring to me right now because i'm freshly back in her life. i know, logically, that if i had spent the last year being her only partner, i would be tired too. i probably wouldn't be any different than DG in this relationship. we would fight. we would become tired of each other. we would grain against each other equally as much as we found each other like perfectly aligned cracks in pavement. but right now, i am so grateful to love her again, in any capacity that may come in, and so, once again, i take what i can get. and i am grateful.

freak tells me to leave my boyfriend, that i'm already half out of the door. and yes, in a way, this is true, and this is good. and in ways, this feels terrible. it feels gut-wrenching, and it feels so oversimplistic. i know CX doesn't want to leave DG either. we both know that there is so much more to situations like this. freak doesn't even know how hard it can be to be single in a city like this. he says no one can tell him what his la experience is going to be, but la is kicking his ass, just like it's done to everyone else. and CX may not be paying rent, but i'm proud of her for still being here, and making it work. honestly, impressive.

i want to fix everyone else's lives, but i still struggle to take the time to properly fix my own. i keep telling myself to pull back, but the universe, it seems, just keeps sending people my way that i can help if i want to. the struggle is trying to decipher what lesson i'm supposed to learn in all of this. to stay leveled, to stay sane, to stay excited and motivated. to focus on the small stuff, even when the big plans become overly distracting. to not let the small stuff fall through the cracks.

small stuff like taxes, like my car registration, like my credit card bill. you know, stuff like that, that slowly becomes bigger and bigger over time when you don't think about it. 

[trailmix5252]

and then one day he took a baggie of ketamine to campus and just did it casually in his accounting lecture. after a while i realized i can’t be with someone like that in any capacity so he left and awkwardly walked to his car and then awkwardly dapped me up

on to my interview. i interviewed a band whom one of the band members i matched with on bumble and i wasn’t interested bc he’s not my type and he’s 19 and i’m 21 so i would feel like a pedo. this was after i reset my bumble to match with diego #3. i’m scared j just drank an uncovered glass of water at a concert what if it’s laced?

anyways. the interview went well we talked about sugar land and my little brothers shenanigans. then i found out half way through salman wanted to cancel the date in the morning and asked if we could still hook up. i said yes bc i love a good story.

so i talk to some of the radio show ppl about my date earlier and what they thought (they all thought it was hilarious bc i’m beautiful and funny). then i drove my ass back home so we could hook up at my moms place while she wasn’t at school.

my room was extremely messy bc i had just come back from acl and i was also in a fit of horniness the night before so my vibrators were just out, and i had no fitted sheet on my mattress and honest to god i was just a mess.

i told him all of this over text, and once i got home in record time i told him to give me a second before coming inside my room so i could hide my stuff. i go in and dive to my chair with my rabbit vibrator and put it in the closet. then i run to the other side of the room and as he is coming in a dive to under my pillow get my blue vibrator out and toss it into the closet. he makes eye contact with me as i do so and it’s so humiliating. i try stuffing my clothes in my closet and hiding yet ANOTHER vibrator i have out.

he reassures me it’s okay (it’s really not). and then we get to talking. i tell him about the date and life and stuff, then we start making out and had sex. i personally feel like he’s pretty good at sex bc i enjoyed the kissing and the foreplay but we never really got to sex sex.

he’s kissing me and i can see his boner and he asks me to do something with it so i caress it(?) like wtf am i supposed to do idk how to take off your belt. he takes off his pants and he unveils the biggest dick i’ve ever seen. it’s girthy too. i give him head and he throat fucks me. he moans. life is amazing. he struggles really hard with putting on a condom for whatever reason, i wait patiently cracking a joke that i don’t really know how to put on condoms. he is hot. life is amazing again. he goes in, it feels amazing. i love it. as he is fucking me he gets a message from a friend and he decides to leave to go help his friend out. as he leaves i drop a full ass glass of water on the floor soaking my socks and i walk him to his car wet socks in all. nice.

i don’t do much the rest of the day except for debrief the date with a friend.

but the next day i’m guest starring on valeria’s show but i want to go to the tailgate beforehand so i can maybe try to see diego #3 and his frat.

i get to campus with not enough time to really party at the frat but with barely enough time to skedaddle to the show. me and audrey walk together and i update her on kevin, aakash, and salman. i head up to the station where valeria is waiting for me and while we’re waiting for the show to start i tell her about the monster date i went on.

she starts her show and i’m cracking up at how insanely funny she is. i’m in love. we get into the show and then i tell her the vagina cough story, and then about my first date. i also asked her if she cries when she has sex and she made a joke about how virginal she is bc her mom was listening. overall it’s hilarious and i’m having a good time.

as we’re telling our story this guy comes up to the window putting up two thumbs up. we say thank you. then another guy comes up (as i’m telling the first date story), and he says drugs and caffeine are cool bc valeria keeps telling us not to do drugs. i read it and i’m like talking about how this guy had a big ass can of monster with him. as he comes up again with another sign i think he puts up like a thumbs up or something, i’m like wait come back you’re cute bc he is cute. and then he holds up a sign asking about my tattoos, and then i say well why don’t you ask for my number.

he starts writing it out on a piece of paper, so i just invited him into the studio, and i get the door for him. valeria immediately starts grilling him about his life. first about israel and palestine, and whether he is pro life or pro choice. he says he’s a bit pro life just bc he believes it’s a life, but it’s up to the girls judgement. she asks him his favorite color, which he says is grey. she also brings up my dads cancer which is honestly just funny to me. and then she asks him if he would kiss me. and he says he doesn’t kiss on the first date. and then she asks me what i would do if he had to pee outside on our date and i said i would be like okay and give him a wet wipe if he needed one. he thought it was based and dapped me up. i asked him how old he is and he said 20 which is fine but i guess i made a face which made him think i wasn’t interested, which i was.

after the show i walked up to him and i was like so you’re not gonna ask for my number anymore? and he said oh i just thought you weren’t interested and i was like no i am it’s just that (and i cut myself off bc i didn’t want to embarrass myself). he asked me to just say it anyways so i explained how a lot of the guys i’m interested in are usually 20 lmfao.

me and valeria talked for a bit outside, and when he came outside i saw him and i went up to him to talk to him about the show and all that.

also side note: the entire time we’re there having the show the guy i hooked up with the day before is in student center north probably listening to the show. i didn’t say anything bad though, just that he had a big dick. but hahaha how funny is that.

as i’m talking to valeria and the new love interest, marcus, i’m trying to see if he’ll make eye contact with me and he does and we wave. after valeria talks to us all we decide to dip and i show her the tailgate.

i’m in awe of how i got rizzed during a radio show which i think is the funniest and best thing that’s ever happened to me lmfaoo. and valeria gets triggered at the tailgate. we see a couple fighting and then we also see diego number three talking to other girls.

afterwards i just studied for a bit for my midterm that night, and i leave campus and head home. as i get home and leave my car i realize i locked my keys in my car. i can’t take my exam like that so i call the first locksmith company available. i ended up getting that guys number but i’m not too interested.

welll today was eventful, and so was last weekend

where oh where to begin

over the weekend i got a ton of likes on hinge bc i was in austin and honestly my goal was to make out with someone before i got back home. and i did

1) person number one: aakash. aakash asked me out on a date pretty immediately and i was excited bc i like meeting new people and it was pretty fun. we met before acl at around 11 and i had to drive him to the date, and somehow i became the worlds worst driver and i kept on fucking up the directions and just being awful. then we got to the date which was actually a super nice spot. he bought me a matcha which was pretty yum, and then we talked about indian culture bc he was straight from india. i guess he did college here and has been living here for a while

we just talked and i slowly realized how uncultured i am and it was just so embarrassing for me imo. then we walked around lady bird lake and talked for a bit, we started talking about dating casually and what that looks like. i told him the coughing in my vagina story, which is my roman empire . we hung out and he told me a story about how he got super drunk and hooked up with a girl and his friends kinda encouraged him to, which just irked me a bit. then we got into my car and he made a comment about how small my hands are which like annoyed the fuck out of me, but i’ll let it slide. i told him he could hold my hand if he wanted to, so he did. and he held it tightly, and then i said you can ask to kiss me if you want to, so then he kissed me as i was DRIVING. haha. we kissed a bit as i drove, and he made a comment about finding a place to make out, to which i said idk i don’t live in austin. we drove up to his complex and made out a bit and it was overall mid. he kept on using a spiky toungue, and kept moaning which i just thought was so weird and horny. he left and i was free to go to acl

2) the next sexual prospect was kevin. me and kevin had been talking for a day or so, i think probably starting night one. kevin wanted to see me night two and kept on sending me horny messages, to which i told him he was too horny for his own good. he asked me about my coog radio stuff and was genuinely interested in my life, but i was too busy to hang out. i sent him a text at one point and it didn’t go through, so he sent me a goodnight text and i felt bad.

day 3 he sent me his full fucking address, so i knew i had to go. i brought my laptop with me so i could write up the articles in the press lounge, so i had more time to spend with kevin. once i got back to the hotel i just had to eat and edit my photos and freshen up a bit. then i got over to his place at around 11:30. i couldn’t figure out how to get in so someone helped me, and then i drove up to the complex, and he was waiting for me waving which was cute. i had to park in handicap bc there was no other parking available. it was a huge moral dilemma, but i somehow got through it. then we went up to his place… and i’ll stop there for now bc i’m tired of writing up this post

[luimagines]

Hi! I have a request, but first i wanna say your writing is absolutely amazing! The length + amount of time you put into these prompts is insanely good. Now! Onto the request, how would the boys react to a reader from a more modern era? Maybe a more modernized hyrule or our current point in time?

Masterlist

Thank you so much for the compliment! I'm happy to see the response even if this blog is still relatively new.

I hope I do your prompt justice.

I probably could have done a headcanon list but I was hit with inspiration.

I also might have given Reader some backstory.

Scenario below the cut! It’s long, take caution.

It was a cool night, but you didn't mind. Your bed was warm, the WiFi was fast and even if it was three AM on a school night, you managed to keep yourself giggling with cat videos and blursed memes until the words and colors merged.

A night well spent.

But it led to questionable decisions.

Even if the shredded cheese in the fridge was beginning to seem a more and more enticing snack, your body was tempted to succumb to slumber.

Until a large purple light encompassed the entirety of your window.

Something was in your backyard.

Aliens. Your tired brain supplies and you sprint to the glass and push away the curtains. Is this it? Is this where I'm kidnapped and never seen or heard from again?

You pull out your phone and open up the camera.

"Pics or it didn't happen." You remind yourself and snap a few before showing your face.

What you see isn't what you're expecting. Instead of a flying saucer in the sky beaming down a laser or a weird pear shaped space craft on top of the grass, there's a single panel of glowing light, swirling with black accents that creeps in a circular motion.

"Cheese and crackers...." You gasp and begin to blatantly stare at it with no regard to whether something may be coming out of it.

You wait and nothing happens.

You wait some more and nothing happens.

You spend an hour watching this portal that has appeared out of nowhere, waiting for something to happen, willing for something to happen. But you get nothing.

The unknown stares right back at you, unblinking and unchanged.

Go through it. A voice tells you. What if there's something on the other side?

"I'm going to die." You gulp and take a deep breath.

Who else gets a chance like this? The voice talks again. This could be a grand step towards a more modern society. A whole new world could be on the other side, waiting, reaching out, calling to humanity!

You think you a see a shadow move behind the portal and out of sight but it’s gone before you can even process it.

"Should I call the police?" You step away from the window, ignoring the thoughts, the voice- you're too tired to know if it's your own any more. What's the plan? How does one go about something like this?

Where’s your sense of adventure? Pack a bag and go! What if it goes away?

That last thought seems to get through to your tired brain and for a reason beyond your understanding, it latches onto it.

Now you’re excited.

You run to the closet and take out your old backpack. It used to be for school but it was fancier since it was the only one you could get. The bag had a replaceable water bag with a plastic straw connected through the back of it and the straps have just worn down enough to where they’re actually comfortable. It doubled as a hiking backpack and came with its own insulated lunch box that clasped on the back of it.

It’ll finally serve its purpose.

You quickly roll up your favorite blanket and strap it in tightly beneath the lunch box. You’re quick to take out two extra outfits and pack them as well as change out of your pajamas.

Ok. What would you need? You don’t know where you’d be going so this has to a catch all kind of deal.

You pack away your swiss army knife first for good measure. A solar powered charger for your phone and an extra pair of socks follow suit even after you’ve picked out the extra clothes.

You take out the water bag and run to fill it all the way to max capacity as you think of any other necessities.

You’d need food. You have a small jar of peanut butter and granola bars that can fit in the lunch box. You can bring your extra water bottle and put in the side pockets of the backpack, and maybe bring some of those powered flavor packets your brother loves so much. You think he has lemonade and some green tea ones.

Those would be great. He won’t mind, hopefully.

You let the bag overfill momentarily before running back to shove it in your bag. with the lid screwed tight.

Next you run to the kitchen, grabbing the first things that you thought of already and begin to look around for more.

You grab an unopened pack of beef jerky, a bag of veggie sticks and a half eaten bag of dried mangos.

During your search you grab the water bottle and fill that too.

You return to your room with your bounty and begin to carefully put everything in the box. With some more deliberation, you run back to the kitchen and make yourself a quick sandwich, eat it, make another one and pack that as well.

You look out side the window and the portal is still there.

The sun is beginning to rise now so you’re trying to go as fast as you can, unless you want to neighbors to think something is going on.

Even if it is.

You’re about to leave but in a stroke of brilliance, you run to pack sunscreen and bug spray as well. You see a small first aid pack that was bought recently for when you would take your family vacation but you reason that it might one of the most important things you’d have if you got hurt.

Into the bag it goes.

You grab your hoodie before you leave the door, wrap it around your waist and pocket your phone, your headphones and your wallet.

You feel immediately under packed when you step outside and see the portal up close.

It’s weirdly triangle shaped, you think and step closer.

You reach your hand out and try to touch it. It feels as if you put your hand through a humidifier but it’s not wet. It’s misty and cold but not necessarily unpleasant.

An idea hits you right before you take your first step through.

You pull up one of the earlier photo’s you took and send it to your friend’s group chat. It showed up in my backyard. I decided to make a bad late night decision and I’m going through. If you never hear from me again, I want you all to fight over my electronics. Winner takes all. Godspeed.

And you step through.

You had first assumed that it would merely take you tot he other side but very quickly realize that you have to walk through it.

The first part still had a little light but with time, it got darker. So dark that you couldn’t even see your hand in front of your face.

You kept walking.

As fast as the light disappeared, it came back and you stepped into the light of an open field, right in front of one, two, three, four, nine males that had appeared to be traveling towards you or rather, towards the portal.

The portal disappears in the process.

“Oh so we didn’t have to go through it! We had to gain another member!” One of them yells. “Would have been nice to know before we packed everything up!”

“Ho boy, where am I?” You ask and tighten your grip on your backpack. Why didn’t I bring a weapon?

They all had long tunics and swords on their backs. Old fashioned leather boots and hand bracers were the norm in this group and you realized very quickly that your jeans and t-shirt had wildly missed the memo.

“Dang, I didn’t think I’d walk into a LARP group. Sorry about that.” You sheepishly smile. “I had no idea where the portal was going to take me. But if you would be so kind-”

“Wait, what’s LARP?” One of them speaks up. He was a dirty blond and somewhere in the middle of the group height wise. He wore a white cape like thing with blue designs on the back but you didn’t recognize the symbol.

“Live Action Role Play?” You tilt your head. “It’s why you’re all dressed like that? Right?”

“This is just our clothes.” What appears to be the youngest bounces up to you. “What are you wearing?”

“First I could grab in my closet.” You admit and look down on it. It’s one of your comfiest shirts and best looking pants. You’re a little proud of yourself for finding those in the dark.

“Weird.”

“We’re heroes. We’re all named Link.” Cape guy speaks up again. “Is it safe to assume that you’re in the same boat?”

“Heroes?” Your eyebrows furrow together. “I’m not a hero and my name’s not Link.”

You’re quick to tell them your name and you watch as the confusion covers their faces. “My brother’s name is Link though if that helps anything.”

“Oh we needed him!” The youngest groans and it instantly irks you.

“What would you need with a five year old?” You deadpan and cross your arms. 

The information stuns the group.

“The portal showed up in the middle of the night and I’m the one that went through it. I’m pretty sure I was the only awake to even see it. Are you telling me that it was for my little brother?” You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t a little pissed. “My baby brother was supposed to go through it? He was asleep! He’s five. What kind of logic is that?!”

“Well...” The biggest and oldest of them runs a hand over his face. You think he has some cool tattoos and sick scar going across his eye but he looks about as angry as you feel, so you don’t say anything. “It appears the gods truly do not care for the hero’s maturity, only his existence.”

“Ok...What’s with all this hero talk?” You bite back. “What did... Where am I?”

“Hyrule.” The second with cool face tattoos speaks up. He’s got a large fur pelt around his shoulders and you have to tighten your grip against your backpack again to keep from reaching out to touch it.

Even so you feel yourself deadpan even more. “Hyrule? Like the ancient empire? The one that collapsed more than two thousand years ago? That Hyrule?”

You’re inclined to not believe them and write all of them off as crazy... but you also walked through a portal. And your grandma did say that magic existed in the strangest forms.

They all share looks of concern and some begin to murmur quietly amongst themselves but you’re too far gone to even notice.

“Did I time travel?” The idea hits you like a bus and you feel your eyes widen as you stare beyond the group. You quickly take our your phone and unlock it.

No signal.

“Is that a type of Sheikah slate?” Someone asks you.

“I don’t know what that is.” You reply automatically. “Wait, hold on, what year is it?”

“Why don’t you tell us what year you’re from and we can start from there?” The darkest brunette of the group speaks up.

“202x PC” You say robotically, not really processing the world around you anymore.

“That’s...” The blond with a long blue scarf speaks up with a slight hiss. “...Beyond any of our timelines. You see, we all come from different worlds and eras of Hyrule’s history.”

“I don’t think you’re the farthest down anymore, Wild.”

“This would then make them my successor, right?”

“It would make their brother your successor.” Someone amends. “I think they just jumped in his place.”

“Leave my brother alone.” You snap back into the present, pocketing your [hone again. “Ok, you know what, screw it. I don’t know what you’d want my brother for but I’m here now. I’d gladly take his place if it means he gets to stay home!”

“Hey.” A boy with pink hair stalks up to you looking a little more serious than you’d like.

“Nice hair dude, way to defy the gender norms.” You smirk a little before genuinely grinning, hoping to quell the tension. “What product do you use? It looks like Artic Fox but not every place sells their brand.”

“...I have no idea what you’re talking about but what happened to Ganon in your world? How have you been handling it?” He snaps and places his hands on his hips.

“Ganon? Like my old principle? That’s a name I haven’t heard in forever.” You’re confused again. “Last I heard he joined the police force only to be reassigned out of state. I don’t know what’s happening with him. Kinda hope he gets fired though. He’s not a bad guy but he’s not someone you’d want in that kind of position of power, you know.”

“Police force?”

You blinked and look them all over. They look very medieval. “Oh... You don’t have that...”

You begin to think about your history lessons and what they might be familiar with if they’re telling the truth about being from Hyrule.

“Ya’ll got knights?”

Many, almost all of them nod, a few with face of despair already on them before you finish speaking.

“It’s kind of like that. Mixed with a towns guard position... kinda. They enforce laws... at least they’re supposed to but the whole system is flawed and racist and really needs to be dismantled for the abuse of power that they have-”

“Abuse? Of power?” You have their attention again.

“It’s stupid and it won’t really make any sense if I try to explain because I doubt you have anything similar but it’s basically a group of people given the right to treat the public in anyway they like for their own benefit because they have no one telling them that they can’t.” You groan and slowly begin to feel your lack of sleep catch up to you. 

You slowly reach to behind you and sit down on the dirt, looking at all of them. “Mr. Dragmire wasn’t like...Demise or anything but he was a huge jerk. No one liked him. He liked me though. I remember that. I was the envy of the whole school because I somehow got on his good side while everyone else wants to strangle him. I think he was transferred for some misdemeanor or something like that... like he might have been throwing hands with someone he wasn’t supposed to. I never heard all the details. I didn’t really care for it when it happened either. I’m pretty sure he lost that fight though. The dude looked like a blast of wind could have knocked him over let alone someone’s knuckle sandwich.”

“I would love to hear more about this.” The youngest sits next to you with a large grin on his face. His eyes are bright and his body language reminds you of your cousin Zelda. You instantly think they’d get along like a house on fire. “What are your monsters like?”

“Monsters?” You tilt your head. “Be a little more specific bud, it depends on where you’re from.”

“You have that many?!”

“It depends on if you believe they’re real or not.”

“Speaking of monsters, can you fight?” The shortest walks up to you. You like that his tunic is stitched up with multiple colors and designs. It gives it personality, you think. “Do you have a weapon you’re more comfortable with?”

The question throws you off your rhythm and you don’t fight your wince. “What would happen if I say that I do not, in fact, have any sort of weapon on me?”

“I wouldn’t believe you.” Pink guy speaks up again. “That pack is huge, there has to be something in there.”

“It’s food, water and extra clothes my guy.” You lean back against said backpack since it won’t let you lay down with it still on. “Not a lot of space for anything else. I’m pretty good at hand to hand combat though. Karate’s a good way to fight out stress.” 

“Your bag’s not magic?”

“Why the hell would it be magic? ...Are you trying to tell me magic actually exists?” You raise an eyebrow as your eyes begin to close against your will. “I know my grandma said it does but I thought she meant like fairies and shadow demons.. and bigfoot. Can’t forget him, he’s the real MVP... You know...Children’s bedtime stories and stuff like that, it’s not real. But like magic magic? Magic items and the like? Find me Tinkerbell and I’ll show you Neverland, that’s what I say.”

“Are you serious?”

“Second star to the right, straight on till morning.” You respond.

There’s a moment of silence as the group in front of you processes your words. It’s hard to tell their reaction since you’re not looking at them but you no longer have the energy to do anything else.

“Are you falling asleep right now?” It’s the one they called Wild.

“I...” You try to open your eyes. They don’t budge. “I haven’t slept in nearly 20 hours... I think. I might have past 24 hours a while ago actually. Portal showed up at like four in the morning... I had to get up at six and I didn’t sleep at all before then.”

More silence.

“Great another one.” Someone scoffs.

You snort.

“Why did we pack up camp again?”

“No one kill me.” You say right before you lose consciousness. “Please and thank you.”

“They’re doomed.”

“Have some faith Vet. They stepped in for their little brother. That has to mean something?”

“They’re in for a rude awakening, and that’s all I have to say about it.”

[breadqueen95]

Dress - Bucky Barnes

bucky barnes x fem!reader

wc: 5k

plot: bucky and y/n’s relationship is new, and they don’t want to share with their friends just yet. but something as simple as a dress can change anyone’s mind, even the winter soldier. 

content warnings: kissing. physical affection. flirting. allusions to sex. drinking. being drunk. language. bucky being a flirt. 

a/n: this is for @natasha-romancff and her taylor swift writing challenge! it took me awhile, but i’ve had a ton of fun writing this. so many bucky fics are angsty, and rightly so the man has some TRAUMA. but for my first bucky fic, based on dress by taylor swift, i wanted something happier for him 

***

Damn. That was a lot of leg.

“I don’t know,” you muttered as you stared into the mirror, “aren’t these things…a little classier than this?”

“Uh…have you met Tony Stark?” Natasha grumbled as she continued to scroll through her phone. “The man has never been classy a day in his life.”

“Well I know he isn’t, but fancy people show up to these things. I just don’t want to embarrass myself.” You were currently standing in front of the full-length mirror in Wanda’s room, staring at the reflection of a woman who didn’t quite look like you.

But it was you, wasn’t it? It was just…that you was wearing a very short, very sexy red cocktail dress. The sweetheart neckline was a nice touch, but the back was completely open. And that hemline? Definitely hiked way up past your knees.

“Y/n, relax,” Wanda reassured in her lilting accent, “sure, the dress is a little…spicier…than you’re used to, but it’s in a good way.”

“I’m pretty sure every single person would be able to tell I spend my days in tactical gear. God, I’m not sure I even know how to walk in heels this high!”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Natasha threw her phone down and looked at you in the mirror. Her eyebrows were raised, and she was giving you her usual ‘don’t give me that shit’ look. It nearly had you shaking in your very strappy black heels.

“Are you kidding me, y/n? I’ve seen you strut in enough fancy parties during undercover missions to know that you’ve got this.”

“Yeah,” Wanda scoffed as she took a sip of red wine from her glass, “all she’s nervous about is what Bucky will think.”

Rolling your eyes, you tried to hide how much that sentence affected you.

“C’mon, Wanda. You know Bucky and I are just friends.”

“Do friends undress each other with their eyes whenever they’re in the same room?”

Damn it. Damn Wanda and her stupid perceptiveness.

“You’re reading too much into it, Wanda.” She just laughed at you, acting like she knew so much better.

What you knew and wasn’t ready to admit to your two best friends, was that she was right on the money.

Bucky Barnes, the infamous Winter Soldier, your favorite person in the entire world, was now your boyfriend. He had been for a few weeks now. The two of you were insanely private people. Hell, it had been years before the two of you had finally learned everything about each other. Once you had gotten past the walls the other had so carefully crafted, well…

At that point you were in love.

But the others didn’t need to know that, not yet at least. The Avengers were a family, your family. They were really the only true family you’d ever had. But Bucky…Bucky was finally yours. And you were his. You didn’t think it was crazy to just want to enjoy that, just the two of you, without everyone else sharing their jokes and opinions just yet. They did it out of love, you both knew that, but you just wanted him all to yourself.

As you looked back at your reflection in the mirror, you took a minute to really consider what Bucky’s reaction might be. He had the best poker face in the room no matter who he was with, but you knew him well enough to know how he was feeling just based on his eyes. He’d always said how much he loved red on you, and he adored every and any excuse to touch your skin. Those steel blue eyes of his would absolutely burn once he saw you in this dress.

And fuck, that was something you really wanted to see.

“Well, if you aren’t going to wear that dress, you better pick something else,” Nat said, jerking you from your fantasies, “we need to be there in twenty minutes, and we all need to touch up our makeup.”

“Actually…I think I’ll wear it,” you said confidently, trying to hide your grin as you ran your hands down the silky fabric.

What you didn’t see was Natasha and Wanda sharing a secret smirk behind you, like they’d known what you’d do the whole time.

***

Six weeks ago, everything had changed for you and Bucky.

You’d known how you felt for a long time. Bucky Barnes, despite his past, was the kind of man anyone could fall in love with. He was sincere, kind, generous, witty…everything you’d ever wanted in a partner. He had been your best friend for even longer.

It had been a long time before you could even admit your feelings to yourself, let alone to him. After everything the two of you had been through, who had the time and mental capacity for romance? It just didn’t seem important. You just chalked up your feelings to being such close friends. All you wanted was to be near him, even if you just sat in silence doing different things. Just being in the same room as Bucky brought you a sort of peace you’d never had before. Whenever he touched you, even if it was just a brief hug or brushing your back to get past you, your skin erupted into goosebumps. But that was just because physical touch was still foreign to you, right?

And his smile. God, his wonderful smile…

Bucky didn’t smile much. He hid behind a mask of stoicism, a remnant from the trauma of his horrible history as the Winter Soldier. Showing any sort of emotion, especially happiness, was hard for him. But when he finally let himself smile? It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever see.        

It took several sleepless nights wrestling with those confusing feelings to figure it out. You didn’t just see Bucky as your best friend. You had it bad. Not just “oh my god he’s so handsome” bad, like the “I would take a bullet for you I’m so in love” bad. That revelation? It left you euphoric. It also left you scared.

Because you were so sure Bucky didn’t feel the same. And that thought was like a knife to the heart every time it flashed through your mind.

So you kept it to yourself. You tried to keep things as normal as possible, but your heart kept fluttering whenever he walked into a room. Being so close to Bucky meant you confided in each other about pretty much everything, and he knew you well enough to know you were hiding something.

It all exploded on a Tuesday night in the compound.

Tuesdays were your movie nights. Bucky had a lot of pop culture to catch up on, so on this night every week he would come by your room to watch a movie. It was a weekly tradition that kind of started by accident. You were shocked he still hadn’t made time to watch Lord of the Rings, so you forced him onto your couch with popcorn and The Fellowship of the Ring. He loved it so much, and immediately asked if you guys could watch The Two Towers the next week. How could you say no to him?

Tonight, you were watching 13 Going on 30. It was your all-time favorite romcom, and you figured you could both use a break from all the action and fantasy movies you’d been cycling through. Something with a happy ending was worth indulging in.

“Does that Matt guy look like Banner to you? Or is it just me?” Bucky asked through a mouthful of popcorn.

“Heh, maybe a little,” you said, “Give or take a few years.” He laughed at that, and you forced yourself to laugh quietly. You wanted to blurt out your feelings every time you looked at Bucky, so you’d gotten quieter and quieter every time you spent time with him. It was an awful reaction, and you knew he noticed. But it was better than losing his friendship, right?

After that awful and painfully obvious forced laugh, Bucky let out a huge sigh and paused the movie. He set the bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table in front of the couch, then turned to face you. Exasperation and hurt glimmered in his eyes.

“Y/n, what the fuck is going on with you?”

“W-what do you mean?”

“Oh come on, don’t give me that,” he said sharply, “I know you better than anyone, and I know for a fact there’s something you’re not telling me. Is it me? Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No, god no!” You exclaimed.

“Well it must be something I did, because you’ve never been this quiet around me and it keeps getting worse. I hate it, and I want to know what I did so I can fix it.”

“Bucky, I’m serious, it’s nothing you did—”

“Then why? Why are you shutting me out?” He cut you off angrily, arms thrown wide. “You’re my best friend, I just don’t get why—”

“I don’t want you like a best friend, Bucky!” Your eyes went wide as the words flew from your lips. In the most comical way, you clapped your hand over your mouth as if you could stop the words that had already been said. Bucky’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

Oh fuck. He didn’t get it. Curse him and his old man ways.

“What does that even mean, Y/n? Are you saying you don’t want me around anymore?”

“Bucky, of course not. God, I would never want that. Never in a million years.”

“Then you better explain, because if you haven’t noticed, I’m over 100 years old. I need a little help here.”

“It means, uh…um,” you stuttered, wringing your hands together. “Is there any chance we can just forget I said that?”

“Nope, not a chance.”

“It means…it means that I care about you. As more than a friend.”

His entire face seemed to crinkle as he processed that. If you weren’t freaking out, you’d be obsessing over how damn cute it made him look. Then his eyes got wide as he began to make the connection. Your stomach nearly fell out of your ass as his eyes lifted again to meet yours.

“I…I think I know what you’re saying,” he nearly whispered, “I just need you to get real specific real fast, because I’m not about to say anything until I know exactly what you mean.”

“It means I’m in love with you, okay?” You burst out. Even through your mortification, there was a sudden sense of relief. A secret as big as that had definitely been weighing you down. Now that it was out there, that was one less thing you had to worry about.

His eyes grew even wider. How that was possible, you didn’t even know. That beautiful mouth of his began to turn up into a small smile as he gazed softly at you.

“You’re in love with me?” He asked, his smile getting wider with each passing second.

“What, you need it carved into stone or something?” You couldn’t help but sass him. Did you fucking stutter?

“No, it’s just…I never thought you’d feel that way about me.”

“Well, clearly I do. So you – wait, you mean you’ve thought about this before?”

“Of course I have,” he said as he shrugged, “I’ve been in love with you for two years now, how could I not think about it?”

You were instantly filled with warmth and pure bliss. In all your obsessing over your own feelings, you’d never allowed yourself to consider that he might feel the same about you. It just didn’t seem possible.

“I’m sorry,” you burst out, holding a hand up, “you’re telling me you’ve been into me for two years and didn’t say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” He shot back, inching closer to you.

“Because you’re my best friend. I didn’t want to lose you because of stupid feelings I have.”

“But…I have those same ‘stupid feelings’ for you. So can we just cut the whole act and get on with it?” Bucky brought a hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing along your skin so gently.

“Uh…um…get on with what?”

“Well I’d kinda like to kiss you, if you’re cool with it.”

“Bucky Barnes did you just use current slang to ask if you could kiss me?” You didn’t move an inch as his face moved right in front of yours, breath intermingling as you gazed into each other’s eyes. God, was this really happening?

“Yeah, guess your lessons worked,” he murmured.

“Well you better kiss me, then.”

As soon as your lips met, it was like coming home.

***

That memory, your favorite memory, replayed in your head as the three of you stepped into the elevator. Nat and Wanda were happily chatting about who would be there, what kind of antics Tony would cook up tonight, if there would be music we could actually dance to. You know, normal party things.

All you could think about was how long you had to stay until you could sneak off with your boyfriend.

You were so happy Wanda and Natasha had convinced you to wear this dress. When you’d first put it on, the difference from your normal look was so jarring that it took you a few minutes to get used to it. But now that you had, now that you felt the silky fabric shifting against your skin as you moved, now that you saw how dangerously long your legs looked in these heels…

Damn, you felt sexy.

And that sexy feeling? It made you want Bucky’s hands all over you.

But this was a party. A party thrown by Tony Stark, one of the most perceptive and observant people you’d ever met. If you left too soon, if he thought you weren’t “having enough fun”, he’d be more than a little upset. So you had to stay, drink, mingle, maybe dance a little…and then, maybe later, you could go do what you actually wanted.

The elevator pinged, indicating you had reached the topmost floor of the compound. This floor was home to a huge communal space, often used for just hanging out with the team. But on nights like tonight, Tony went all out and turned the space into something that resembled…a club?

The three of you stepped out into the massive room, upbeat music already blasting from the speakers. Typical Tony – he never really outgrew his love for dancing and parties. The bass thrummed through your body, making you want to move to the music. The lights were dim, but you could still tell who was around. It looked like you were some of the last members of the team to arrive. There was a huge bar off to the side, and Natasha headed that way right away. You turned to ask Wanda if she wanted to follow Nat, but she was already making a beeline for Vision. Smiling, you just turned right back around to follow Natasha. A drink sounded pretty good right now.

As you made your way to the bar, you felt more than a few pairs of eyes on you as you walked. You sneakily looked around as you went, noticing men and women watching you with admiration, and dare you say it, longing. As someone whose job was to blend in with the background all the time, this was a different and slightly addictive feeling. You leaned on the bar next to Nat right as the bartender slid her drink over to her.

“Straight whiskey tonight? Damn, going hard.” You quipped.

“Hey now, you know I can handle my liquor. It’s you we need to watch out for, you lightweight.”

Laughing, you scanned the party guests, looking for the one person you wanted to see. Tony had had arm around Pepper’s waist, both laughing at something Rhodey had said. Bruce lingered around them, drink in hand and looking a little nervous, but still happy to be included. Wanda and Vision were sitting quietly on one of the couches, both looking absolutely smitten with each other. Scott Lang, one of the newest additions, was busting some moves, while Peter Parker laughed as he watched. Thor, who was visiting from Asgard, laughed boisterously as he watched various guests try to lift his hammer. You couldn’t help the smile growing on your face. You loved these people so much.

Then, you saw him.

Bucky was with Sam and Steve, as usual. But even as Sam and Steve were talking animatedly next to him, those gorgeous blue eyes of his were glued to you. There was a kind of intensity in them you hadn’t seen before. Your breath whooshed from you body as he grinned at you. Trying to maintain the suggestive image your dress gave you, you managed to send a flirtatious smile his way, then turned back around to face the bar. Leaning against the counter, you knew he’d get an eyeful of your bare back. God, this was fun.

The bartender finally made his way over to you, and you ordered two tequila shots.

Nat turned to you, one eyebrow arched in surprise as she asked, “And you say I’m going hard? You can’t just down two shots right away, babe.”

“I’m not doing two shots; you think I’m stupid?” The bartender slid the shots over to you along with two lime wedges. “One is clearly for you.”

Unable to hold back a laugh, Natasha put her arm around your shoulders and pulled you into her side as she said, “Why the fuck not, let’s do it.” The two of you went through the process: salt, shot, lime. You couldn’t help but wince as you downed the harsh liquor. Of all the shots in the world, tequila probably tasted the worst. The only reason you kept going for it was the warmth it traced down your body, and you felt your muscles begin to loosen up.

“Two more,” you called over to the bartender.

“Uh, no,” Natasha shot at you, grabbing her whiskey, and pushing off the bar, “I’m good with my top shelf shit, you keep going after that gasoline if you want but I’m out.”

“C’mon, Nat,” you called out, “what am I gonna do with two shots?”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone else, babe.” She said with a wave over her shoulder.

Sighing, you turned back to the ridiculously pretty bar (seriously, how much had Tony paid for this thing?). Who else would help you look cool and sexy at a bar for your secret boyfriend?

Okay, that was the cringiest thought you’d ever had. Gross.

As the bartender slid the tequila in front of you, you steeled yourself for the nastiness that was about to happen.

“Fuck, I didn’t think this through,” you mumbled.

“Yeah, you tend to do that,” a deep voice answered on your right. Instead of being the slightest bit surprised, you couldn’t help but smile. You’d know that voice anywhere.

“Something I can do for you, Barnes?” You looked up at him from under your lashes.

“Well, it looks like you’ve got an extra shot there. Thought I could bail you out.”

“Is that all?”

Bucky shifted so that your arms were just barely touching. His hand was right next to yours, and you reached out with your pinky to lightly brush his.

“Doll, you have the gall to show up in that dress and ask what I want as if you don’t already know?”

“Sorry Buck, I’m a little slow, must be the tequila. You should probably be a little clearer.”

Putting on quite the show of reaching for one of the shots, his mouth somehow ended up right next to your ear.

“I want you.”

It was lucky everyone was so distracted and couldn’t see how you shuddered at his words. Trying to maintain brain function, you managed to take the shot with him. You were now fully facing each other. He was wearing the cockiest smirk you’d ever seen, one that would put Tony Stark to shame. You couldn’t help but respond with that same energy despite the jitteriness his three little words had reduced you to.

“Well why don’t you—”

“Hello, my friends!” A booming voice sounded between you as Thor threw a huge arm over each of you. Bucky, with his stupid super soldier strength, didn’t really have a reaction to it. You, on the other hand, stumbled a little under the weight and force of it. “It’s so good to be back with you tiny humans.”

Was…was he slurring his words?

“Thor…are you drunk right now?”

He simply laughed in response. Well, that answered that.

“Of course I am, tiny person! It can’t be a party without good Asgardian wine.”

“Wait…you have literal god wine?” Bucky, who had a look of vague irritation on his face up to this point, now looked interested. Maybe even a little excited?

“Of course, metal appendage.”

“Dude, you can’t just call Bucky ‘metal appendage’—”

“He can if he lets me have some,” Bucky interrupted.

“We have a bargain!” Thor slapped Bucky on the back before scurrying back over to where he had come from, probably to get the wine he had promised.

“Bucky, you can’t even get drunk,” you hissed, “what exactly is the point of this?”

“Since everything happened, I haven’t found any alcohol strong enough to get me drunk. I figure god wine is worth a shot.”

“Bucky—”

“When I kiss you against a wall later, I wanna be a little tipsy,” he whispered in your ear, “that cool with you?”

Unable to keep yourself from smiling again, you nodded as Thor sauntered back over. Ever since that moment a few weeks ago, right before he kissed you for the first time, asking “is that cool with you?” had become your thing.

And the idea of Bucky kissing you against a wall? Yeah, that sounded pretty good.

***

As it turns out, Asgardian wine is just as potent as Thor had promised.

For the first time in over seventy years, Bucky Barnes was certifiably drunk. It made him feel like the Bucky from all those years ago, and it was the most incredible thing. Here he was, over 100 years old, partying, and all his favorite people were here.

Including his ridiculously hot girlfriend.

Even as they both flitted around the party, Bucky and y/n still found each other’s eyes, even from across the room. They would send winks, smiles, even funny faces. All he wanted to do was be right next to her, talk and dance with her all night…

But they had agreed. They wanted to keep their relationship a secret for now, keep the attention off of them for a bit while they got to know each other in this new way.

But god damn, that dress.

Y/n in red was…indescribable. It didn’t matter what she wore, she was always the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. But in red? In this dress?

She was breathtaking.

“Buck, you breathing?”

A hand waved in front of his face, snapping Bucky’s attention back to the people around him from Y/n’s back. He had been imagining putting his hands all over that back later and had gotten more than a little mesmerized. He managed to get his eyes to refocus, finding a drunk Sam smirking right next to him and an even drunker Steve dancing next to him. But what Steve was doing couldn’t really be called ‘dancing’ per say…more like an aggressive wiggle.

“Why wouldn’t I be breathing?” Of all the things he could’ve said to get Sam’s attention off of him, that wasn’t it.

“Uh, probably because the girl you’re in love with decided to show up and show off tonight? Pretty sure you’re drooling, man.”

Despite himself, Bucky slapped a hand across his mouth, only reducing Sam to wheezing laughter. Knowing he had been caught, he rolled his eyes and grimaced a little. Of all the people to catch him, he wished it hadn’t been Sam.

“I wasn’t…staring… at y/n, I just never see her dressed up is all.”

“I never said anything about the girl being y/n.”

“…fuck.”

“LANGUAGE,” Steve yelled out, pointing a finger at his two friends before returning to his shimmying.

Turning back to him, Sam added, “Just go be with her, Buck. You’re not fooling anyone, and neither is she.”

“We’re that obvious?”

“A few weeks ago you’d at least try to hide it. Now I’m surprised you’re not jumping each other’s bones right here right now.”

“Point taken,” Bucky said, lightly slapping Sam’s shoulder before power walking over to his girl.

***

“Nat, if you don’t stop asking about Bucky and I’s relationship, I’m going to kick you,” you called over the music before taking another swig from your glass. It was no Asgardian wine, but the human stuff wasn’t half bad in your opinion. It wasn’t like you could drink the god shit, anyway. If you had even one sip, you’d be swinging from the ceiling like Miley fucking Cyrus. You were pretty drunk as it was.

“Okay, fine,” she said with a shrug as she took a sip of her whiskey, still as calm and collected as ever. “You’re almost as drunk as he is, you’ll be talking soon enough.”

“Oh? Is that your spy master plan?”

Natasha was still looking as unbothered as ever, but as she looked across the room over your shoulder, her face split into a savage grin.

“It was, but it looks like I might not need it.”

“What do you me—”

Your words were cut off as a large, warm hand enclosed around yours. Whirling around, you were suddenly face to face with the man himself. Bucky was clearly having a good time. His mouth was relaxed into the cutest smile you’d ever seen him wear, and he moved without his normal stiffness and intensity. He threaded your fingers together, smiling down at you with so much love it was a wonder Nat hadn’t said anything yet.

Looking back in front of you, ready to explain yourself, you only found empty air. Guess she’d seen all she needed to, but honestly, you really didn’t care. All you’d wanted the whole night was to be exactly where you were right now; hand in hand with the man you loved.

“We’re just kidding ourselves, doll,” Bucky called next to your ear, “Sam said we’ve been pretty obvious.”

“Nat said the same,” you answered with a sheepish smile, “kind of hard to keep my face under control when you’ve got that leather jacket on.”

“You’re blaming me?” He asked with mock indignation. “You’re the one who looks,” he gestured wildly to your whole body, “like that!”

Trying ignore the heat spreading over your cheeks, you shot back, “Like what?”

“Like the most…” he screwed his face up in the most adorable way as he searched for words, “like the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” As the last few words tumbled out of his mouth, he gazed at you with such a softness you almost melted right into the floor.

“Wanna get out of here?” You asked, finally giving up the game. It was pointless, really. Now, all you wanted to do was for your boyfriend to keep his promise and kiss you against a wall.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he answered, “Absolutely.” Without looking at a single soul, the two of you began walking as quickly as you could for the exit. You and Bucky were both leaning on each other a bit, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Stepping out into the light of the hallway, you blinked as your eyes adjusted after the dark room you’d spent the last few hours in. Bucky led you until you were right in front of the elevator, and he lazily pressed the button to go up. There was tension in the air between you, like a thread that was being pulled. Biting your lip, you stared at the doors in front of you. You knew if you so much as looked at the man next to you, you’d jump him right then and there.

The shining doors slid open, and the pair of you walked in, his strong arm still around your waist. His grip wasn’t loose in any sense of the word. Bucky kept you right next to him, even as your legs wanted to drift all over the place. You pressed the button for the residential floor.

As soon as those doors slid shut, that thread of tension snapped.

Bucky whirled you to face him, then walked you backward until you were pressed against the wall of the elevator.

“I promised I’d kiss you against the wall, didn’t I?”

He didn’t even wait for a response. His mouth was on yours in an instant, lips moving together like a dance. The kiss was slow and unhurried. You tried to bring him closer, linking your hands behind his neck and pressing yourself to him. Instead of responding in kind, he unwound your arms from around him and pinned them above your head.

Oh damn.

Okay.

No complaints here.

“You’ve been teasin’ me all night just by wearing that dress, sweetheart,” he murmured in between the kisses he trailed down your jaw, “I think it’s my turn.”

“Would it change your mind knowing I only wore this dress so you could take it off?”

The heat that bloomed in those blue eyes of his was unmistakable. As the doors opened on your floor, he swept you up into his arms and began to walk purposefully to his apartment. All the while, he kept that signature cocky smirk of his you’d come to adore.

“Bucky?” You asked once he’d walked into his unit.

“That sentence was the single most attractive thing you’ve ever said,” he murmured as he set you down. Even still, he kept you pressed against him. “But nah, I’m a patient guy. I think I’ll take my time.” He followed this by resuming his slow and sensual kisses, and you couldn’t help but melt into them.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips.

“I’ll never get tired of hearing that, doll. I love you too.”

***

[chainofclovers]

Ted Lasso 2x11 thoughts

For an episode that ends with a journalist Ted trusts but has (understandably) recently lied to warning Ted that he’s publishing an article about his panic attacks, it was fitting that this episode seemed entirely about what all of these characters choose to tell each other. And after most of a season of television that Jason Sudeikis has described as the season in which the characters go into their little caves to deal with things on their own, it turns out they are finally able to tell each other quite a lot.

Which is good because, um, wow, a lot is going to happen in the season finale of this show!

Thoughts on the things people tell each other behind the cut!

Roy and Keeley. I absolutely loved the moment during their photoshoot in which they bring up a lot of complicated emotional things and are clearly gutted (“gutted”? Who am I? A GBBO contestant who forgot to turn the oven on?) by what they’ve heard. We already know that Keeley and Roy are great at the kinds of moments they have before the shoot begins, in which Roy builds Keeley up and tells her she’s fucking amazing. From nearly the beginning of their relationship, they’ve supported each other and been each other’s biggest fans. But their relationship has gone on long enough that they’ve progressed from tentative arguments about space and individual needs into really needing to figure out what they mean to each other and how big their feelings are and what that means in relation to everything else. Watching these two confess about the uncomfortable kiss with Nate, the unexpectedly long conversation with Phoebe’s teacher, and—most painfully—the revelation that Jamie still loves Keeley didn’t feel like watching two people who are about to break up. (Although I could see them potentially needing space from each other to get clarity.) It felt like watching two people realize just how much they’d lose if they lost each other, which is an understandably scary feeling even—or especially—when you’re deeply in love but not entirely sure what the future holds. Not entirely sure what you’re capable of when you’ve never felt serious about someone in quite this way, and are realizing you have to take intentional actions to choose that relationship every single day. I’m excited to learn whether Roy and Keeley decide they need to solidify their relationship more (not necessarily an engagement, but maybe moving in together or making sure they’re both comfortable referring to the other as partner and telling people they’re in a committed relationship) or if things go in a different direction for a while.

Sharon and Ted. I’ve had this feeling of “Wow, Ted is going to feel so intense about how honest he’s been with Sharon and is going to end up getting really attached and transfer a lot of emotions onto the connection they have and that is stressful no matter how beneficial it has been for him to finally get therapy!” for a while now. And Sharon’s departure really brought that out and it was indeed stressful. But the amount of growth that’s happened for both of these characters is really stunningly and beautifully conveyed in this episode. Ted is genuinely angry she left without saying goodbye, and he doesn’t bury it some place deep inside him where it will fester for the next thirty years. He expresses his anger. (I also noticed he sweared—mildly—in front of her again, which is really a big tell for how much he has let his carefully-constructed persona relax around her.) He reads her letter even though he said he wasn’t going to, and he’s moved. I don’t think Ted has the words for his connection to Sharon beyond “we had a breakthrough,” but Sharon gets it, and is able to firmly assert a professional boundary by articulating her side of that breakthrough as an experience that has made her a better therapist. And is still able to offer Ted a different kind of closure by suggesting they go out before her train leaves. No matter how you feel about a patient/football manager seeing their therapist/team psychologist colleague socially, I appreciated this story because IMO it didn’t cross big lines but instead was about one final moment in this arc in which both Ted and Sharon saw each other clearly and modeled what it is to give someone what they need and to expect honesty and communication from them. I liked that Ted ends up being the one saying goodbye. (The mustache in the exclamation points!) I like that whether or not Sharon returns in any capacity (Sarah Niles is so wonderful that I hope she does, but I’m not sure), the goodbye these characters forge for themselves here is neither abandonment nor a new, more complicated invitation. It’s the end of a meaningful era, and although the work of healing is the work of a lifetime, it’s very beautiful to have this milestone.

Ted and Rebecca. So, maybe it’s just me, but it kinda feels like these two have a few li’l life things to catch up on?! (HAHHHHHaSdafgsdasdf!) I really adored their interactions in this episode. I maintain that Biscuits With The Boss has been happening this whole time (even when Ted’s apartment was in shambles, there’s biscuit evidence, and I feel like we’ve been seeing the biscuit boxes in Rebecca’s office pretty regularly too), even if it might have been more of a drive-by biscuit drop-off/feelings avoidance ritual. It was really lovely to see Ted on more even footing in Rebecca’s office, joking around until she tells him to shut up, just like the old days. And GOSH—for their 1x9 interaction in Ted’s office to be paralleled in this episode and for Ted to explicitly make note of the parallel in a way Rebecca hears and sees and understands?! MY HEART. In both of Rebecca’s confessions, she is not bringing good news but it is good and meaningful that she chooses to share with Ted. In both situations, Ted takes the moment in stride and offers acceptance equivalent to the gravity of what she has to confess. And in both situations, he’s not some kind of otherworldly saint, able to accept Rebecca no matter what because he’s unaffected by what she shares. He is affected. When he tells her about Sam, you can see a variety of emotions on his face. Rebecca is upset and Ted is calm, and even if I might have liked for him to try to talk about the risk the affair poses to the power dynamics on the team or any number of factors, I also really liked that he just accepts where she is, and—most importantly—does not offer her advice beyond examining herself and taking her own advice. A massive part of being in a relationship with another person (a close relationship of any nature) is figuring out how to support that person without necessarily having to be happy about every single thing they do. It’s so important that Ted connects what she’s just told him about Sam back to what she told him last season about her plot with the club. These both feel like truth bombs to him, and he is at least safe enough to make that clear. These are both things that impact him, things that shape how he sees her and maybe even how he sees himself. He cares about her and is capable of taking in this information; he has room for it. But it’s not something he takes lightly, and neither does she. See you next year.

Tumblr user chainofclovers and the TV show Ted Lasso. My brain is going wild thinking about all the ways the next “truth bomb” conversation could go in 3x11 or whatever. Maybe they go full consistent parallel and Rebecca confesses something else, this time about her and Ted or some other big future thing that impacts him as much or more as the other confessions have. (The same but different.) Maybe the tables turn and Ted has something to confess to her. While the 1x9 conversation ended in an embrace and the 2x11 conversation ended with a bit more physical distance (understandable given the current state of their relationship and the nature of the discussion), the verbal ending of both conversations involved voices moving into a sexier lower register while zooming in to talk specifically about their connection to each other, so I have to assume there will be some consistencies in s3 even if the circumstances will be completely different. I don’t really know where I’m going with this and I obviously will go insane if I sustain this level of anticipatory energy until Fall 2022 but I have a feeling my brain and heart are going to try!

Sam and Rebecca. I know there’s been a lot of criticism about whether this show is being at all realistic about the power dynamics and inevitable professional issues this relationship would create. On some level, I agree; I like that pretty much everyone who knows about the affair has been kind so far, but you can be kind and still ask someone to contend with reality. But I also think that in nearly every plot point on this show, the narrative is driven by how people feel about their circumstances first and foremost. (It’s why the whiteboard in the coaching office and the football commentators tell us more about how the actual football season is going from a points perspective than anyone else.) This episode reminded me how few people know about Sam and Rebecca, and how much their time together so far has been time spent in bed. The private sphere. I thought this episode really expertly brought the public sphere into it, not—thank goodness—through a humiliating exposure or harsh judgment but through an opportunity for Sam that illustrates not only all his potential to do great things but how much Rebecca’s professional position and personal feelings are in conflict with that. Could stand in the way of that. I don’t have a strong gut feeling about where this will go, but I do think Sam’s face in his final scene of this episode is telling. He started the episode wanting to see Rebecca (his most recent text to her was about wanting to connect), and Edwin’s arrival from Ghana really exploded his sense of what is possible for his life. If he’d arrived home to Rebecca sitting on his stoop prior to meeting Edwin, he’d have been delighted. Now he’s conflicted, and whatever decision he makes, he has to reckon with the reality that he cannot have everything he wants. No matter what. And Rebecca—she has taken Ted’s advice and is attempting to be honest about the fact that she can’t control Sam’s decisions but hopes he doesn’t go, and even saying that much feels so inappropriate. And I’m not sure how much she realizes about the inappropriateness of the position she’s putting him in, although maybe she’s getting there considering she exits the scene very quickly. I’ve honestly loved Rebecca’s arc this season. I think it’s realistic that she got obsessed with the intimacy she thought she could find in her phone. I think it’s realistic that her professional and personal ambitions are inappropriately linked. (They certainly were for Rupert. It’s been years since she’s known anything different; even if she’s done some significant recovery work to move on from her abusive marriage and figure out her own priorities, she’s got a long way to go.) I know there are people who will read this interaction between Rebecca and Sam as a totally un-self-aware thing on the part of “the show” or “the writers” but what I saw is two people who enjoyed being in bed together and now have to deal with the reality that they’re in two different places in their lives and that one has great professional power over the other. If that wasn’t in the show, I wouldn’t be able to see it or feel so strongly about it.

Edwin and Sam. I really enjoyed all the complexities of this interaction. Edwin is promising a future for Sam that doesn’t quite exist yet, though he has the financial means to make it happen. He offers this by constructing for Sam a Nigerian—and Ghanaian—experience unlike anything he’s found in London. Sam is amazed that this experience is here, and Edwin’s response is to explain to him that the experience is not here. Not really. The experience in Africa. Sam has of course connected to the other Nigerian players on the team, but this is something else entirely. I’m really curious if Sam is going to end up feeling that what Edwin has to offer is real or not. That sense of home and connection? So real. And so right that he would want to experience that homecoming and would want to be part of building that experience for others. But at the end of the day, he went to a museum full of actors and a pop-up restaurant full of “friends,” and is that constructed authenticity as a stand-in for a real homecoming more or less real than the home he’s building in Richmond? (With other players who stand in solidarity with him, and with well-meaning white coaches who say dumb stuff sometimes, and an a probably-doomed love interest, and a feeling that he should put chicken instead of goat in the jollof, and the ability to stand out as an incredible player on a rising team.)

Nate and everyone. But also Nate and no one. Nate’s story is so painful and I’m so anxious for next week’s episode. For a long time I’ve felt that a lot of Nate’s loyalties are with Richmond, and a lot of his ambitions are around having given so much to this place without getting a lot back, and having a strong feeling that he’s the answer to Richmond’s future. But now I’m not so sure; his ambitions have transferred into asking everyone he knows (except Ted, of course), if they want to be “the boss.” But Nate is all tactics and no communication. When he wants to suggest a new play to Ted, he hasn’t yet learned to read Ted’s language to learn that Ted is eager to hear what he has to say. And while Ted has been really unfortunately distracted about Nate and dismissive of him this season, he clearly respects Nate’s approach to football and was appreciative of the play. Nate just can’t hear that. The suit is such a great metaphor of all the things Nate is in too much pain to be able to hear clearly. Everyone digs at him for wearing the suit Ted bought him (including Will, who’s got to get little cuts in where he can, because he’s got to be sick of the way Nate treats him), but when he gets fed up his solution isn’t to go out on his own and find more clothes he likes; he asks Keeley to help him. And then crosses a major line with her...and no matter how kind she was about it, she was clearly not okay. Everything is going to blow up, and I’m so curious as to whether Nate will end up aligning himself with Rupert in some way or if he’s going to end up screwed over by Rupert and in turn try to screw over his colleagues even worse than he’s already done. Or try desperately to make amends even though it could be too late for some. Either way, I’m fully prepared to feel devastated. (And there’s no way I’m giving up on this character. If he’s able to learn, I truly believe he could end up seeking forgiveness and forging a happier existence for himself. Someday. Like in season 3 or something.)

Ted and Trent. Trent deciding to reveal his source to Ted is a huge deal, and I’m torn between so many emotions about this exposé. I’m glad it’s a Trent Crimm piece and not an Ernie Loundes piece. I’m glad that Trent made the decision to warn Ted and let him know that Nate is his source. I fear—but also hope—that this exposure will set off a chain reaction of Ted learning about some of the things he’s missed while suffering through a really bad bout with his dad-grief and panic disorder. The things Ted doesn’t know would devastate him. I wonder if Ted will want to figure out a way to make Nate feel heard and reconcile with him, and I wonder how that will be complicated if/when he realizes Nate has severely bullied Will, gets more details on how he mistreated Colin, etc. I wonder if Rebecca, whom Nate called a “shrew” right before she announced his promotion, will be in the position of having to ask Ted to fire him, or overriding Ted and doing it herself. So many questions! I have a feeling it’ll go in some wild yet very human-scaled, emotionally-nuanced direction, and I’ll be like “Oh my GOD!” but also like “Oh, of course.”

This VERY SERIOUS AND EMOTIONAL REVIEW has a major flaw, which is that none of the above conversations include mention of the absolute love letter to N*SYNC. Ted passionately explains how things should go while dancing ridiculously! Will turns on the music and starts gyrating! Roy nods supportively! Beard shouts the choreography like the Broadway choreographer of teaching grown men who play football how to dance like a boy band. Everyone is so incredibly proud when they nail it. I love them.

I cannot believe next week is the end. For now. I’m kind of looking forward to letting everything settle during the hiatus, but I’ve really loved the ride.

[wheelsup]

the taming of the shrew | two

if i be waspish, best beware my sting

after some setbacks, penelope is willing to do anything to get you back on board. but has spencer already ruined things?

A/N: hello! im so sorry that this posting schedule is super inconsistent. the more i thought about this chapter, the less i liked the more technical aspects of it. but! i hope you enjoy to plot aspect of it nonetheless <3 thanks for reading!

category: fluff, slow burn series, spencer reid x fem!reader

wc: 4.4k

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Since that phone call with Penelope, she’d been over nearly every night for a week with plates of treats and onslaughts of apologies. Each time she came knocking, you told her there was no amount of persuasion that could change your mind. And yet the following night, she’d be there, a new type of pastry in hand and a new set of reasons why Spencer was worth the trouble.

First, she brought blueberry muffins and reasoned that deep below that prickly exterior, he really was everything she promised –– sweet and caring. But that must be deep, deep down. Like, The Lost City of Atlantis, deep down, because you didn’t expect it to surface any time soon. 

Then, she brought fudge brownies and explained that his behavior wasn’t personal –– he was getting snippy with everyone lately. And while you maintained that anybody would have a hard time getting along with Spencer, you were absolutely positive that it was now impossible for you. 

Quite frankly, it wasn’t just Spencer who was unwilling to play nice. You hated him. More than you’ve ever hated a stranger. 

You wished him a lifetime riddled with minor inconveniences that would drive him to the edge of insanity. You wanted him to miss all his trains by just a quarter of a minute; close enough so that he could see it leave the platform, knowing he almost made it on. You wanted him to constantly feel like he was about to sneeze. You wanted his socks to be perpetually wet, and if he should happen to put on a dry pair? You hoped he stepped in a puddle.

That was all you could think about as you laid out on your couch, munching on one of Penelope’s lemon bars while she paced around your apartment. She kept going on and on advertising Spencer to you. As annoying as it was, she was also saving you a ton on groceries that week. 

For the most part, you filtered her out. Not a single word that came out of her mouth was believable anymore, especially not when she was talking about Spencer. Despite what Penelope thought of him, you saw in him what she refused to accept. 

As her speech came to a close, she looked at you like she expected a response to dignify her prattling. 

“Give it a rest, Penelope. He’s a lost cause,” you laughed dryly. “He doesn’t need –– nor does he want –– anyone in his life.” At the very least, he definitely didn’t want you. 

“Yes, that’s the problem!” If you’d been listening to her, you would’ve heard her saying the same thing. “He doesn’t want to date!” 

Your head just about exploded when she said that. 

There had been countless, fruitless conversations about this, and all along she saw the gaping hole in her supposedly airtight plan?

“If he doesn’t want to DATE, then WHAT was the point of this?!” Your fingers pressed the bridge of your nose; you suddenly felt a headache coming on. Funny how it always happened around the time of day that Penelope came to visit.

Penelope stopped pacing. She stalked over to your couch, picked your legs up by your ankle, and moved them to make space for herself. You begrudgingly sat upright as she took her place beside you. 

“Because he’s not himself anymore. He’s not open like he used to be. Not to the people who care about him the most, and certainly not to the world.”  

Penelope toyed with the hem of her dress, distracting herself from her quivering lip before pressing on, “Spencer Reid has always wanted love. And it’s not right that he no longer believes he can have it.” 

You hadn’t seen Penelope look so desperate until now. It was concerning. Because what could make her look so hopeless? What could make Spencer so hopeless? 

“Penelope, I don’t know what’s wrong with your little friend, but… there’s a lot more bubbling inside him than you’re letting on.” 

She chewed up the insides of her cheeks, wincing to herself at your incredibly accurate claim. 

“You are hiding something, aren’t you?” You narrowed your eyes on her. You were no detective, or whatever exactly her team did, but she was just awful at concealing her thoughts.

“It’s not my story to tell,” she murmured. 

She could already feel herself about to give it away and doubled down her mental defenses against it. Focusing extra hard on keeping Spencer’s privacy intact. If only you knew her track record with secrets, you’d be proud of her for staying quiet this long.

“What isn’t your story?” 

“That his girlfriend died last year.” 

She spilled it before she even realized what she was saying. You’d just asked so nonchalantly that she forgot she was talking aloud. Penelope turned purple, terrified now that the whole truth was out there. 

You couldn’t even take satisfaction in the fact that your trick worked. You were just as mortified as Penelope, and if you weren’t already sitting down, you knew you’d need to. You assumed there was something deeper going on with him, you didn’t think it was a dead girlfriend. That was some Nicholas Sparks shit. 

“He pretends like he’s fine but I know he’s not. And if he found a way to move on, maybe he’d start feeling as okay as he claims to be,” she sniffled before snot could run from her nose, tears lining the rims of her eyes. “I know I should’ve given you the full picture, but I didn’t think you’d go for it if you knew…” 

You were too floored to process it all right away. This added a whole new layer of complicated to an already uneasy arrangement.

“Well, I know you’re right about one thing. I would’ve said no.” 

She gave you a set of pleading eyes, praying you’d see where she was coming from. 

“I know,” she whispered defeatedly. “But maybe... now that you know, you can understand why he acts out the way he does.”

“Penelope, I can’t just… make someone move on, or –– or get them to believe in love! Especially when it’s fake.”

How on Earth did she expect you to pull that off? Did that guy from A Walk to Remember move on when Mandy Moore died? You hadn’t seen the ending of the movie, but you assumed not. 

“I’m sorry, this is just… a lot bigger than the favor I thought it was ––”

“What if I could return it?” she cut in. The gears in her head started to turn, figuring ways to patch up the holes she made. 

“There’s nothing I need from you.” 

That couldn’t be true. Penelope looked around the room and it didn’t take her long to think of it.

“I can help you sell your art,” she tempted, gesturing to the scattered canvases. “You make all your income from this, right?” 

You didn’t want to give any fuel to her fire, but you nodded. “What if… what if you didn’t have to settle for local buyers? What if I told you that you could make way more money selling them to the whole world?”

You chortled at her idea. 

You were a local artist, through and through. Your art got put in local galleries and sold to local buyers. Nothing more, and that was fine with you. You realized it a long time ago that it was just a pipe dream to think you’d be more. 

“I’m serious! You could get a separate painting studio, and stop living in one? Huh?” She wrapped her hand around your shoulder, waving the other in the air, urging you to picture it with her. “Imagine this: a kitchen that’s separate from your living room. A bed, inside it’s own four walls, and more than twelve feet from where you cook your meals.”

Pushing aside her so blatantly insulting your apartment, if that were a possibility, you’d want nothing more. But it already sounded foolish and you hadn’t even heard how she planned to pull it off. 

“Penelope, I’m fine where I am. I make the money I need, and that’s... it’s fine.”

She gave you a pointed look. “You know, I can hack all search engine results to make sure you are what comes up first anytime someone enters the word ‘painting’, right?

An airy chuckle left your lips. Of course she could. You patted her thigh twice and stood up, prompting her to follow you to your door –– hopefully, so she can show herself to the other side of it. “Still no, Pen.” 

“Just take some time to think about it!” Her voice carried through the wood as you shut it on her.

*

There was this one bench in Kenilworth Park – the one that overlooks the crystal clear pond – that you’d always been able to rely on to fix any problem.

There was hidden magic in the bushes that sprawled out from the edges of the water, surrounded by spiky green blades of overgrown grass. A simplicity you loved in baby ducklings paddling into the tiny body of water, swimming close together so they don’t get lost in, what seems to them, a whole ocean. And clarity provided by the freshest air in the world, under the shade of the big oak trees on a late summer afternoon.

But at the present, none of that came close to being enough.

The artist’s block started off as a minor inconvenience, but without your permission, had stretched into weeks of steadily declining motivation. Each new idea felt even worse than the last, and you were acutely aware that there would come a point where you’d officially hit maximum capacity for how awful they could get.

Still, that didn’t seem to light a fire under you. You happily coexisted with the blank pages of your sketchbook. Staring down at them, laying open on your lap in their stark-white glory, you felt like you were playing a waiting game. If you stared long and hard enough, maybe they’d flinch. 

Unfortunately, you never got to find out who won, because your phone rang inside your pocket. As if the caller had interrupted an incredible genius at work (which couldn’t be farther from the truth), you hastily raised the phone to your ear, slamming your sketchbook shut.

“Hello?” Your voice wasn’t as kind as it could be for someone with nothing better to be doing. Two seconds later, you learned who was calling and came to regret it.

“Hi, This is Rebecca from District Arts, calling with a message from Andre ––”

“Oh, hi!” you tried to walk back your previous tone, straightening up in your seat and pitching your voice higher, “Yeah, I’ve been waiting to hear from him!” 

While Rebecca intimidated you, Andre happened to be your closest friend at the gallery. He worked closely with the artists to curate their collection and help them make sales. 

“Does he want to sort out what to set the opening bid prices at for my new pieces?” A handful of days ago, you sent him pictures of your new work and were waiting to hear his thoughts. You’d always been able to trust his opinion, and a vote of confidence from him might be just the thing to inspire you.

“Uhm…” There was a criminally long pause on the other side of the line, ended by Rebecca’s weary inhale. “Unfortunately, we’re calling to inform you that your pieces will not be included in the next rotation.”

For a minute, you weren’t sure what to make of what she said. You’d never heard those words before.

“What – what do you mean?” you laughed nervously. She probably misspoke. Perks of friendship aside, Andre always included you in sets. 

“Ugh, let me just get him…” her voice faded away as she put the phone down. 

That wasn’t exactly the reassuring statement you were looking for. In the time it took for the call to switch hands, your confusion finally melted in. And then quickly boiled into anger.

The District Arts gallery changed their entire collection every two months. The pieces shown accepted rolling bids throughout the full eight weeks, finally selling at the end of term to their highest offer. After that, the pieces got taken down, sent to happy new owners, and the entire gallery reset with entirely new works. 

So if you missed one rotation, that meant waiting two months to get back in.

“Andre, how am I just cut from the gallery!” you barked before he could get a word in. If he didn’t like your work, he could’ve just said so. 

“No one said that ––”

“Okay, let me rephrase.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, something you found yourself doing quite frequently lately, and took a deep breath in and out. It was seemingly just for show because it did absolutely nothing to calm you down. “Why wouldn’t you put me in the next set? I’m in all of them!”

“I know you are!” He sounded just as upset. “It’s just that… we give you the biggest space we have, because you always manage to fill it up. But this time… I’m not so sure you can.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed. “What makes you say that?” You asked that, but you knew.

“You’ve only finished three pieces… I’m worried how you’ll deliver seven more before we set up.”

“But… it’s four weeks away, I could do ––”

“And it took you four weeks to make what you have... I’m sorry. We couldn’t take that gamble.” 

He took your silence as an opportunity to turn off the work talk and speak, just friend to friend. 

“You know that I trust you and I’d hold that spot if I could. But, I also know what you’re going through right now, and… I don’t know, maybe letting yourself rest would be a good thing?” 

Your heart paused. By, “knowing what you’re going through”, you assumed he didn’t mean the little artist’s block.

“If you’re implying that I can’t do my job because of what happened with Cyrus –”

“I’m not, I’m not....” he backtracked as quickly as he could. “But take another look at the paintings you showed me and tell me if they feel like you.”

Even if he was right, you wanted to fight him. You wanted to cry. You wanted to beg that you didn’t need that big space; you were willing to downsize and just turn in the three that you had. Even if they got shoved into the corner where hardly anybody bothered to look. You just couldn’t afford to go two months without the income. 

But even with tears beading up, you realized that the gallery couldn’t afford it either. They needed to bring in money and you couldn’t do that for them this time. So they were right to go to someone who can.

“Right,” you sniffled, recollecting yourself so he can’t hear the shakiness in your voice. “I understand. It’s a big risk, like you said… It’s for the better.”

Andre tried to thank you for being understanding and spewed some sort of encouragement. The words flew over your head. You managed to toss in a few ‘mhmm’s and ‘sure’s at the right places to coast you along until the call finally ended. 

As soon as it went dead, you dropped your phone to the side and brought your hands to your face, rubbing them furiously over your cheeks. Your fingertips pressed hard into your eyelids, trying to forcibly reabsorb the tears threatening to spill. 

It almost worked, until you tried to breathe. 

A full sob escaped in that one gulp of air and you succumbed to it. But the loud crunching noise of some pedestrian walking over the falling leaves destroyed your sense of privacy, and you quickly wiped away all signs of your breakdown. The crunching stopped just short of your bench and on instinct you flicked your eyes up to see who the intruder was.

You did a double take. It was him. That fucking asshole.

He was standing there, looking dumber than you could even remember, with his hands in his coat pockets and a curious look on his face as he watched you cry. Tucking your sketchbook under your arm in haste, you made it a point to stand up with as much aggression as possible, rolling your eyes at him.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” you barked. “No need to yell at me this time.”

You bristled past him, barely refraining yourself from checking his shoulder as payback. You wanted to believe you were better than him, but it did sound incredibly tempting. He stood there for a moment before turning on his heel and following you.

“Wait,” he groaned.

You didn’t listen, neither stopping nor slowing down.

“I said wait,” he huffed as he caught up to you, popping up at your side and jogging along as you kept going.

“Yeah, because I need to listen to a guy who yells at strangers in bookstores.” 

Now that you’d brought up the elephant in the room, your feet started moving even faster, working double time to get you away from him.

Damn the fact that he had those long legs. He didn’t even break a sweat trying to keep up. He was inescapable.

“Well, if you waited like I asked, you would’ve gotten an apology for the ––”

“Gee, thanks!” you yelled, stopping for only a second to turn to him and give him a mocking bow of your head, hands clasped together like you were praising at his altar. “I was waiting with bated breath for that! Thank you, kind sir, for now my life can go on.”

“Look, I’m actually sorry,” he snapped. Then in realizing the irony, softened his voice, “I’m sorry for being rude. I was having a bad day… not that that’s an excuse.”

You stared at him blankly, just watching his mouth moving quickly and waiting until it finally stopped. 

“Did you need something?” 

“Did you… did you not hear what I just said?!” 

“No, sorry,” you smiled, voice sweet like sugar. “My ears filter bullshit. Wanna try again?”

He scoffed, looking away like he couldn’t believe you before stepping even closer. “What’s your problem?”

“Me!? The fuck –– what the fuck is your problem?” You turned and stormed off again, seething at his audacity. Spencer just couldn’t relent his annoying tendencies and followed yet again.

“My problem is that I’m trying to be nice, and you’re not letting me!”

You got a good, hard laugh out of that. “Okay, first of all, having to apologize for yelling at me and pushing me isn’t exactly the best starting point for the journey of becoming a nice person.”

“Like I said, I was having a bad day.” 

Under your breath, you muttered, “Well, I hope this one’s even worse.”

“Why are you such a ––” He stopped himself from finishing that thought. Even in his worst mood, he wouldn’t cross that line. 

But he didn’t need to finish it, you knew exactly where he wanted to take it. The soles of your shoes scraped against the loose gravel as you came to a grinding halt, ears ringing.

“A what?” You turned to face him, a sarcastic smile on your face growing wider as he started to shrink more and more. You got up close in his face, daring him to say what he really wanted to. So he could reinforce your belief in exactly the type of person he was. “A what?” 

Spencer pursed his lips and shook his head, refusing to say it no matter how much you challenged him. If he wasn’t going to have the balls to say it, you decided to take it upon yourself.

“Tell you what, you keep thinking about it and get back to me the next time you’re in a cunty mood.” 

The word he was thinking of was probably not as bad, but you had a habit of escalating things. Even if you took this one too far, you didn’t care. 

Before you tried to take off again, Spencer’s hand flew to your elbow. He tugged you back, forcing you to turn around and face him. He didn’t know his own strength; without any resistance, you came stumbling into his chest, at risk of falling over if it weren’t for his tight grip on your arm.

It took you a beat to push him away with both your hands on his chest, vocalizing your disgust for being so close to him. 

“Can you stop trying to disagree with me for a second? I’m trying to tell you that you’re right, I was being a… well, you know…” He avoided the word. Apparently ‘cunt’ was where he drew the line. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it.” 

Your nostrils were still flared and blood hot as ever, but he made you pause. He looked sincere, if not a little tinged with guilt as well. You were suspicious of it.

“You saw me crying and felt bad, didn’t you?”

He laughed darkly. “Well, I saw you, yes. Did I feel bad? No.” 

“Oh, my God,” you growled, berating yourself for getting close to believing he might be capable of decency. 

“I’m joking! I’m joking.” He squeezed your elbow twice in earnest. “I did feel bad, but that’s not why I wanted to say it.”

“Okay.” You weren’t ready to give him a real smile, so you flattened your lips into a thin line and nodded once slowly, and left it at that. 

You still weren’t a fan, but the apology did dampen some of the resentment. Maybe he wasn’t the worst person alive. You’d settle for saying top ten most annoying, instead.

Minutes later, you came to the startling realization that he was still on the path, just two paces behind you. You flinched when you saw him out of the corner of your eye, not expecting him to still be here. 

“Uhm. Where are you… why are you still following me?” 

“I’m not. My car’s that way,” he gestured to the parking lot at the end of the long walkway. “I forgot my loaf for the ducks.” He didn’t mean to offer that information up, it just slipped out. He could practically see your smug expression coming before it even got there.

“You’re not supposed to feed bread to the ducks. It’s bad for them.”

“I don’t.” He didn’t care to explain this to you, but he couldn’t have you thinking he was any less competent than he really was. “It’s a special bread made from water and seeds that were ground into flour. It’s duck-safe.” 

“They make duck-safe bread?” Now that was something you’d never heard before. 

“No… I make duck-safe bread,” he said softly under his breath. 

You didn’t know how else you were supposed to react to that besides laughing wildly. 

“You make it?” He nodded like you were the crazy one here. As if he wasn’t the one spending his spare time grinding up seeds and baking loaves of bread for ducks, donning a frilly pink apron and oven mitts as he did so. At least that’s how you imagined it. “Why not just feed them the seeds?”

“Because, loose seeds will sink in the water and can potentially clog waterbeds and cause foreign bacteria growth in the pond.” 

“So you… hand-make the seeds into a little loaf of bread so it doesn't do that?”

He confirmed. You pondered silently for a moment, then absolutely had to ask, “You ever eaten the duck bread before?”

Spencer was caught off guard by that question. His cheeks deepened to a rosy color.

“Yeah, well, it was the house so…” he laughed nervously and stared at his sneakers. “It’s actually not too bad.”

You weren’t entirely surprised by that. You remembered what his grocery basket looked like, and given those same options, you probably would’ve tried the duck bread too. Still, you cracked the smallest of grins at knowing he makes bread for ducks. The one, sole redeeming fact you’ve learned about Spencer. 

You reached your car first, and Spencer stopped in front of it with you. 

“I’m actually sorry, you know,” he whispered once more, hand resting at the top of your car door as you opened it. He wasn’t talking about the incident at the bookstore.

“Yeah…” For a while you were so busy being angry at Spencer that you forgot about your own problems. 

He noticed your nose was still red around the edges, eyes still a little bleary. “Are you okay, by the way?” His voice was too soft, too genuine.

You shook your head no.

“Is there anything I can do?” You shook your head again. And then you had an awful thought.

You knew he was just offering to help just to say it, because that’s how people react when you say you’re not okay even if they don’t care. But there actually was something he could do for you… Something that Penelope could do.

“Uh, no but…” you fixed your hair and tucked it behind your ear, seamlessly switching to a flirtier voice. “If you still feel bad about the other day, you’re welcome to make it up to me.”

Spencer cocked his head to the side, unsure of how he could do that. 

“Hang out with me sometime.”

“H-hang out?” You could tell that it flustered him, even if he tried to play it off. He swallowed thickly, nose twitching and brows scrunched together.

“Relax, I really do just mean hang out.” You were lying through your teeth. He didn’t need to know that. 

As if he didn’t want to think about it for a second longer and just get out of this conversation as quickly as possible, he agreed without thinking it through. He didn’t even ask why an almost complete stranger would want to hang out with him. 

You stuck your hand out, expecting him to hand over his cell so you could put your contact into it. He rocked on the balls of his feet, watching as you input your contact and sent yourself a text on his phone.

“Hi, this is…” you read out your message as you typed, pausing at just the right place. “What’s your name by the way?”

“Oh-uh, I’m Spencer.” 

A devilish grin took over your face, hidden from his view while you were looking down at the screen. He was going to be easy to fool.

-

-

agh! im still not in love with how this chapter is turning out, but it came to a point where i just had to stop fiddling with it and just post it. any feedback or comments about this story is very much appreciated 💕

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