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crushpunky · 2 days ago

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actress!reader gets asked about drew

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

based on this ask. a sort of compilation of y/n telling cute stories <3

Y/n settled in the chair opposite the podcast’s host, Claire, adjusting the mic as the interview began.

“Hello and welcome to another episode of Chit-Chat with me, your host, Claire Hale!” Claire said cheerfully before turning to face y/n. “Today we are going to be talking with the wonderfully talented y/n y/ln. Welcome!”

“Hi, thank you so much for having me.” Y/n smiled, smoothing a hand along her pants as the two of them launched into casual conversation, ranging in topics from y/n’s childhood to her favorite movies and her morning routine.

“So, I think the people are dying to know, how is married life?” Claire said, dropping her jaw open exaggeratedly. Y/n laughed, absentmindedly fidgeting with the diamond ring adorning her finger.

“It is great.” Y/n smiled. “I didn’t think it was possible to be this happy, y’know? Like I thought that I was happy before we got engaged, but actually being married is a whole other level.”

“Ugh, that’s so cute.” Claire swooned, causing y/n’s cheeks to warm as she thought back to the memory of waking up this morning in Drew’s arms. It was something that happened nearly every morning, but each time it made her heart flutter and fall impossibly more in love with him.

“I’m not even trying to over exaggerate or put on an act, I am just genuinely so happy right now.” Y/n continued, folding her hands in her lap as she smiled to herself.

“I think we are all so happy to hear that.” Claire nodded. “You and Drew have been together for such a long time, it’s so nice to just see two people who truly love and care for their work and each other. Speaking of, how do you guys sort of find that balance between work life and personal life, with both of you spending so much time away acting or away on projects?”

“It’s taken a lot of practice,” y/n chuckled. “Lots of hours of late night FaceTime calls and missed dinners until we both kind of decided that we needed to set up some boundaries and some of what we call ‘no excusers’.”

“‘No excusers’?” Claire asked, leaning in intently with a quirk of her brow. Y/n nodded, thinking back to when Drew and her had originally come up with the term. It had been after Drew missed a dinner with y/n’s parents, a dinner he had promised to be at amidst his busy schedule, just a day after y/n had to cancel on one of their preplanned coffee dates.

“Yeah, Drew and I sort of set up this system where we have certain things that we call ‘no excusers’.” Y/n explained. “They are things that the other person has to be at, or at least help to reschedule to be at, no excuses.”

“Both of us have such busy schedules, so it can just be super easy to retreat into yourself and just say ‘oh I’m too busy’ or ‘I can’t’, but we both knew that we wanted to be there for the other person when they needed it most, even if it was hard.” Y/n continued. “So, with the ‘no excusers’ we are sort of making a promise to the other person that we can count on them to be there for us, no excuses.”

“Really making sure to set aside time for you guys and your relationship and what’s important to that relationship.” Claire clarified.

“Yes.” Y/n agreed. “Neither of us had really been in a relationship with another actor or person in the industry, so we knew we had to make time for each other in our busy schedules if we wanted to keep this relationship.”

“That’s really sweet.” Claire grinned. “So, speaking of busy schedules, how did you guys find time out of yours to get married? I mean both of you had such huge and busy years last year, so I think everyone was pretty shocked to hear that you guys got married.”

“I think we were pretty shocked that we found the time too.” Y/n joked, causing Claire to laugh. Y/n remembered back to all the hectic planning on sets and over FaceTimes, getting dresses tried on between meetings with producers, tasting different cakes from the comfort of their home, pajamas on.

“No, but in all seriousness, I think we were both just so excited to get married that we were going to find time for it no matter how busy our schedules were.” Y/n said. “Both of us could barely wait a minute longer, like I remember that we had a countdown on the whiteboard in our kitchen, ‘Days Until We’re Married’, and we just made a huge deal of it each day counting down. Music, dancing, cheering, the whole shabang.”

“Stop, that’s so funny.” Claire chuckled.

“Our neighbors probably hated us, but we didn’t care.” Y/n giggled. “Like, did you expect me to not be excited to marry the love of my life?”

“No, you’re right, I can only imagine how excited you guys were.” Claire nodded. “I mean, you’ve been together for so long, like, four years?”

“Publically, yes, but privately about five.” Y/n giggled as Claire’s eyes widened.

“How did you guys even manage that?” Claire asked incredulously. “I mean, Outer Banks, like, blew up during that time, you must’ve had so many eyes on you.”

“Ha ha, yeah, that was certainly a very interesting time.” Y/n chuckled, remembering how the two of them would try and sneak around downtown Charleston, ducking into darkened allies to kiss like teenagers.

“It was during COVID, so for a while we just stayed inside. There weren’t very many opportunities to catch us, aside from the occasional social media post or livestream, but I think that we kept it pretty lowkey. I mean we already lived together, so we weren’t going back and forth between each other's places or anything like that.” Y/n continued. “But when things kinda started going back to normal, and we were going out more and more eyes were on us, it certainly became a lot harder.”

Y/n thought about a particular time in which a fan had snuck a picture of the two of them sitting on a bench just off the beach. The two of them shared AirPods, chatting casually. They hadn’t even realized that y/n had ended up perched in Drew’s lap, his hands resting on her hips as their faces sat just inches away from each other. They were too caught up in the moment, and in each other, to realize they were in public until they saw the photos later that afternoon.

“There were… multiple times where people pointed out something or noticed something that we hadn’t even thought about and we thought like ‘oh shit, we’ve been caught’, but we always managed to sorta weasel our way out of it.” Y/n giggled, brushing a bit of hair away from her face. “It was hard, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

“Yeah,” Claire nodded. “That sort of situation definitely helps you guys to keep the relationship real, y’know? How did you guys decide to keep it private for so long? Was that a mutual decision?”

“Yes, yes it was definitely something we both agreed upon.” Y/n said. “I think we both wanted to make sure that our relationship was authentic and real, not just something shaped by other peoples’ perspectives or opinions. I really do think that that time where we kept things between ourselves helped to shape our relationship.”

“I know you said you kept it between yourselves, but other people definitely knew, right? They had to.” Claire asked.

“I honestly think that some of them knew before we knew ourselves.” Y/n laughed. There were so many moments and stares shared by the people around them who recognized the very obvious feelings between y/n and Drew. So many friends and family members would comment on the almost magnetic attraction the two exhibited, practically unable to go anywhere without the other.

“But in all seriousness, yes people knew.” Y/n continued. “We kept it just between us for like… a month, month and a half maybe? But then we shared it with our friends, the Outer Banks cast, but they kinda already knew since we were all living together. Then a little after that we told our parents on FaceTime— because of COVID— and they also kinda had their suspicions.”

“That’s so funny.” Claire grinned. “Well, y/n, I really appreciate you taking the time to Chit-Chat with us! It was so much fun!”

“Thank you so much!” Y/n grinned. “Thank you for having me, it was a lot of fun.”

“Once again, thank you for watching and thank you for Chit-Chatting with us!” Claire said, her and y/n waving goodbye to the video and listeners at home.

#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x actress!reader #actress!reader #drew starkey social media au #drew starkey x actress!reader social media au

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padmerry · 3 days ago

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Stanford Pines: “and isn’t it suffocating?”

This is basically my attempt to understand the issues of the Stan twins’ relationship from teen Ford’s point of view and the reason(s) for their separation. Was Ford really feeling suffocated by his relationship with Stan? If so, why? And when did it start? When did things start to shift in this direction, if once they were just fine? There’s just so much to unpack.

I don’t think I need to point out, to most fans, where the word “suffocating” comes from. It was a very memorable scene, if nothing else, since a lot of people hated Ford for it.

Behold the scene in question:

I think it’s so obvious that Ford was projecting and actually talking about his and Stan’s relationship here that I won’t even attempt to prove that, hahah.

Now, is this Ford... a) talking about his true feelings regarding his and Stan’s relationship when he was young, even before the science fair incident, or b) lying to himself, as he presumably started to do ever since (but only after) the science fair incident?

First, I’d like to invite you to actually listen to Ford’s voice/watch his mannerisms as he says this, here (timestamped). The thing is that... he doesn’t sound very bitter! He doesn’t sound like he’s throwing shade at Stan. Instead, he sounds and looks—pay attention to his eyebrows—like he’s genuinely puzzled. Does Dipper... really think he’s not meant for something more? Why! He’s so brilliant, with so much potential! Just like Ford when he was younger! The poor boy must be really attached to his sister...

Second, I’d like to invite you to not be so harsh on Ford, as he says that it, nor she is suffocating—the relationship Dipper has with the girl, not the girl herself. Not that Ford can’t be mean! He can be terribly mean, sometimes, especially out of spite. But the man has some limits. He wouldn’t say this about his twelve-year-old niece.

Another thing to be taken into consideration is that Ford was convinced Mabel would be fine, since she had “a magnetic personality.” This is a trait he very likely also attributes to Stan! In TBoB, for example, he was convinced of Stan’s ability to make the waitress laugh. There’s a lot of evidence for the fact that Ford had no idea of how badly Stan was faring and/or would fare without him, due to the idealized version of Stan Pines in his head.

That said, here is the behind-the-scenes commentary on Dipper and Mabel vs. the Future:

Alex Hirsch: Ford offers Dipper [an] apprenticeship because Ford sees Dipper as somebody who’s special like himself. And that’s Ford’s great flaw, that arrogance. He believes there are special people and everyone else.

Jason Ritter: And that you can be held back by your siblings, maybe.

Alex Hirsch: Yeah, he believes that attachments are actually weaknesses.

It has been said before Alex is too harsh on Ford, hahah. (If you have actually read enough of his interviews and listened to all his commentaries, like I did, you’ll realize he’s harsh on most of his characters, including Dipper and Stan!) That is, however, something also made canon in J3 in many, many excerpts, and stated by Ford himself quite plainly here:

“I thought being a great man meant being alone.”

And of course, his advice to Dipper in the show itself:

“Don’t let anyone hold you [back].” His choice of words is interesting. “Anyone,” not “anything.”

I do believe this line meant exactly what we think it did, since Ford, for all his “Mabel will be fine,” immediately guessed that she didn’t take it well as a visibly upset Dipper returned to his side:

When did he start developing this mindset, though? Before or after the science fair?

I think some of you might have read the (in)famous TVInsider 2016 interview in which Alex states Ford saw his brother as a “bumbling leech” (ouch!) his “entire life.”

In terms of Stan and his brother’s conflict, we always wanted a moment where Ford saw that he was wrong. Ford’s spent an entire life imagining himself as this lone solitary hero and imagining his brother as this bumbling leech. From a narrative point of view, for Ford to see Stan be the hero finally lets Ford see the true side of his brother that he’s been too blinded by pride to see.

Now, an important fact is that—I think many people fail to grasp this—Ford looking down on Stan doesn’t mean Ford not loving Stan. My boy can and will multitask!

And, of course, “entire life” didn’t actually mean Ford’s entire life! It was definitely an exaggeration on Alex’s part, meant to convey that for most of Ford’s life, presumably from late teen years old to the current age, Ford looked down on his brother.

We know for sure that baby Ford never looked down on Stan, and in fact defended him from the Sibling Brothers in the last Lost Legends comic!

But one thing we also see is how baby Ford already shares, to a certain extent, adult Ford’s ambition:

Another trait, equally important, early on: the tendency to think he was special and/or different from everyone else, for better or for worse. Like one of the very first things Stan told us in his childhood retelling in AToTS, “As if his abnormally high IQ wasn’t enough, he also had a rare birth defect: six fingers on each hand. Which might have explained his obsession with sci-fi mystery weirdness.”

As he grows up, he also grows, understandably, very proud of his accomplishments. In Stan’s words, “Ford’s brains seemed to get more impressive every year.”

He grows to embrace the “freak” part of him more and more, both ashamed and proud of not fitting in. Like Bill so gently phrased it in TBoB: “The ego of a king. The insecurity of a circus freak.” (I take all his words with a grain of salt, of course, but sometimes he hits the nail on the head.)

But what does this mean for his relationship with Stan?

I think the first thing we have to know is that Stan is Ford’s identical twin, something that is heavily alluded to in canon and confirmed by Word of God. The first comment from Alex regarding this matter that I could find was this tweet from 2015. Then it was further confirmed in many episodes of the DVD commentaries (the first ones already mention it) and indirectly implied by Bill on the TBoB website.

Why is this even important? Twins of the same gender, especially identical aka monozygotic twins, tend to struggle with identity issues. Not only the same birthday, but the same face—that without having to share even a name.

The second thing is that they only ever had each other. I talk more about their codependency here, elaborating on the differences between the relationships of Dipper & Mabel and Stan & Ford.

Again, I borrow Alex’s words when asked about Shermie’s role in the family as Stan and Ford’s brother in HanaHyperfixates’ and ThatGFFan’s interview:

In terms of Shermie, I remember asking Rob or somebody at some point, like, “Would Shermie be here, logically? Do we have to see him?” I don’t really wanna see him. I’m not interested in that. I’m interested in Stan and Ford being—sort of having only each other and then losing each other because of their different life paths.

Let’s not forget, too, the only time Ford ever mentions Shermie in Journal 3—“Sherman Pines’s,” surname and all:

The best example we have of this in the show is probably Stan’s line in AToTS, “Those bullies may have been right about us not making many friends, but when push comes to shove, you only really need one.” Stan not only acknowledges their dynamic, but sounds very content with it.

Was Ford content with it, tough? That’s... more complicated.

Like we’ve established, these two were identical twins (unlike Dipper and Mabel, fraternal and of different genders) and only had each other (again, unlike Dipper and Mabel), which not only exacerbated their codependency but also their identity issues. They were used to being two halves of a whole. It’s very telling that in AToTS, “the Pines twins” are both called to the principal’s office, even though only Ford should have been called. They were seen as a single entity.

And don’t get me wrong, Ford has always loved Stan so much. Perhaps part of him even enjoyed the fact his brother trusted and leaned on him so much, depended on him both emotionally and to... get a passing grade.

But for some reason, even before the science fair... things still grew quite awkward. From Stan’s Land Before Swine commentary (DVD extras):

Anyway, cut to high school, the guy’s never kissed a girl, prom is coming up, and he asked me for advice. “Stanley, I know things have been a little weird between you and me with college, but can you talk to me about girls?”

The interesting thing here, to me, is that Ford... straight up recognized the “weirdness” between them to Stan’s face! And the fact Ford felt the need to mention it, as if he couldn’t simply ask his own twin brother for advice about girls without making a sort of acknowledgement first! These brothers once told each other everything... How did things get to this point?

First, notice how Stan says “prom is coming up.” The same prom at which they laughed together and shared a moment of camaraderie after Stan threw punch at himself to share Ford’s humiliation.

Which to me points to the fact it was something gradual, happening little by little, hand in hand with the sweetest moments in their teen years.

Imagine you’re Stanford F. Pines, not yet PhD.

You know you are special. You’re both a genius and a freak. You are always praised by adults around you, by your teachers. This starts to go to your head. You cling desperately to the “genius” part of your identity, so you can be more than a bullied freak. You grow even more ambitious. You can see a future for yourself.

You have a twin brother. You love him more than life itself. But everyone talks, and... aren’t they right, somewhat? Just a little bit right? Stanley isn’t a genius, like you are. That’s a fact. Stanley also doesn’t have ambition, like you have. Stanley isn’t a freak, like you are. It doesn’t mean Stanley isn’t cool! But you are... different from him...

And yet, despite all that, he’s your identical twin brother! You can only ever be one half of a duo. A single entity. Even your name, you share with him. He doesn’t seem bothered by that, but you are. Can’t you just be Ford, for once, no Stan? (Ironically, the fact is lost on you that your brother was always more under your shadow than you ever were under his.)

You start to think that the Stan O’ War isn’t anything more than a beautiful, but ultimately childish, dream. It isn’t very realistic, is it? You could be so much more than that. You could actually make a difference. You could prove everyone wrong about ever calling you a freak. You try to breach the subject with Stanley, but all he wants to talk about is this damn boat. And you care about it too, of course you do, but... Doesn’t he care about anything else?

I can see, so easily, the influence of other people on Ford slowly (and subconsciously) growing, even though his love for Stan didn’t diminish. I can see him noticing the mismatch between his ambition and Stan’s ambition, his academic achievements and Stan’s academic achievements... or lack thereof. Again, this is the teenage version of the little boy getting starry-eyed about seeing his own face in the papers. Except now, the possibility of Stan being there with him... doesn’t seem as likely.

Alex on A Tale of Two Stans (DVD commentary), confirming that the rift between them had started before the principal’s words:

A lot of different ideas that we came up with to suggest, you know, what was the moment where things started to change between them? When they went from best friends—and it felt, as we went to draft, that the right moment would be—sort of—as they’re entering the end of high school they have to make a choice about college and the rest of their lives, they’re speaking to guide counselors. That’s when the world at large is pointing out, “by the way, one of you is amazing!” And the toll that would take on Stan.

Alex being mindful of the difference between love and respect, as seen by his commentary on Stan’s condescending love for Mabel in Land Before Swine:

But this idea that Waddles is sort of a metaphor for what Mabel loves. And Stan loves Mabel but he doesn’t—he doesn’t really think that anything she thinks is necessarily smart or right. You know, he loves like her, ah, she’s my sweet niece, but [Stan’s voice] “she doesn’t know anything.”

I can see, also very easily, Ford having some intrusive thoughts, then immediate guilt over them. For example, after someone mocks Stan for his grades, Ford comforts him while thinking, “but yeah, maybe Stanley could really put more effort in—wait, what? He’s my best friend! I can’t think like that about him!”

Stan’s narration over this scene: “The future was looking bright... for both of us.” Oh, Stan... Ford’s smile looks painfully awkward.

Just notice the difference between Ford’s posture and body language there and here in college!Ford’s picture (and, again, look at Ford’s eyebrows, but also the way he leans in Stan’s direction):

It’s important to remember that this, too—the scene in which Ford smiles awkwardly—was before West Coast Tech.

But now, with West Coast Tech, he finally has something solid. Something tangible. A real way to make a name for himself. And he loves it. Now this is the face of true happiness!

He manages to win even the approval of his famously “not impressed” father!

Borrowing my words from another meta:

Pay attention to Filbrick and Caryn’s shocked faces when it’s revealed to them that Ford’s genius can, actually, earn them millions! Pay attention, too, to the way Ford looks at Filbrick when he’s praised by him. He’s very surprised and ecstatic to receive his father’s approval, a very brief, “I’m impressed,” that wasn’t even expressed directly at Ford. Ford doesn’t act as if it’s something he receives every day or casually. He was in fact feasting on crumbs.

Ford also knew it was not unconditional acceptance. From Ford’s point of view, at least, he was worth exactly just as much as he could earn Filbrick, and Bill’s threat in TBoB (“your father won’t want you returning without millions”) touches on that insecurity.

But... What about Stan?, you might be thinking. That was, funnily enough, the only thing that Caryn (who didn’t smile or praise Ford once) wanted to know, too.

He’s visibly very upset by having his brother insulted like that, and he didn’t know Stan was on the other side of the door overhearing their whole conversation. But he also doesn’t defend his brother, like Stan likely would have, and Stan doesn’t see Ford’s facial expression. He just hears silence from him.

And no, young Ford had zero difficulty in standing up for himself or for Stan, as seen in Lost Legends and as explained at length in my previous analysis. My own interpretation is that Ford finds it harder to defend himself or Stan from things that, deep down, he considered to be true: the fact that his polydactyly made him a freak, as pointed out by Crampelter and the Sibling Brothers, and Stan’s lack of ambition (and lack of future born out of said lack of ambition), as pointed out by the principal. I don’t think he appreciated his brother being called “a clown” at all, in the same way he didn’t appreciate being called a freak, but I also don’t think he could bring himself to disagree with the point being made here.

This moment in the series was also probably inspired by a real moment in Alex’s life that inspired the scene in which Mabel overhead Ford’s proposal to Dipper, according to the commentary of Dipper and Mabel vs. the Future:

This idea of Mabel overhearing Dipper and feeling left out actually came from a real thing that happened between me and my sister. This is a weird anecdote about me and my sister but we did this kind of like, sort of competitive improv games when we were in middle school, very nerdy. And we did pretty good, like, our team made it to the international competition every year, and there was this high school team... [...] We had a pretty good team, but there was a team above us, the high school team, that was like, legendary, that we wanted to be like. And when me and my sister went from junior high school to high school, like, this is going to be our last year to do this sort of competitive improv, and I got a call from the high school team saying “hey, guess what? we already raided your team for the standout members, we’ve taken the people from your team that always do good scores and we’re combining the high school team and the middle school team into a super team and we would like you to be on the high school team. And I was like, “what about Ariel?” And they were like, “well, there’s only seven members per team—” and Ariel was listening on the conversation and I remember her like, bursting into tears because they had basically been like yeah, we got two Hirsches [and] we only want one, and I didn’t even blink. I just said, “no, I refuse to be on this team.” Like, I couldn’t, it was just like, this is so messed up, you’re breaking this whole thing apart, like yeah, it’s a great team, yeah, you guys are awesome, but I’m not gonna do this without Ariel. And I just remember being this awful moment where some external pressure was telling us like, oh, you gotta choose, you gotta make a choice. Um, like, and it was like this very personal thing. And so like, that’s a big part of the inspiration of like, somebody comes and says, like, you but not you.

Based on Alex’s reaction to such a proposal, it’s not a stretch to think Ford’s silence here was indeed telling, from a narrative viewpoint. It was a deliberate choice from the creator.

And then... Oh boy, the swingset talk.

“Joke’s on them if they think you wanna go to some stuffy college on the other side of the country,” Stan says, then proceeds to boast about their future adventures, only to end it all with a painful expression that shows he doesn’t believe what he is saying. He knows what Ford is truly going to choose.

Stan asks him what would happen if the college board was impressed with his experiment. “Well then, I guess you better come visit me on the other side of the country!” Which indicates he clearly didn’t expect Stan to come with him, either.

Then The Accident happens, and Ford reacts accordingly.

It’s fascinating to me that Ford knew exactly what would bring someone like Stan to do something like sabotage his machine. He doesn’t accuse his brother of feeling jealous of his success or of the attention of their father and teachers! Oh no, that’s not your typical sibling drama of competitiveness, nor an easily solvable lack of communication. Instead, he accuses Stan of sabotaging his machine so Ford would stay with him! Which proves he was aware of Stan’s feelings, despite what a good part of this fandom seems to think! And, while it had been just an accident, a dumb mistake on Stan’s part instead of a deliberate act... Ford is right! Stan really couldn’t handle Ford going to college on his own.

He’s right, because we know Stan’s feelings about this. Stan says, in so many words: “Without Ford, I was just half of a dynamic duo. I couldn’t make it without him. And now, thanks to that dumb college, I was gonna lose my brother forever.” I know the “forever” was perhaps Stan being a bit melodramatic (understandable considering his distress) but it also shows us he didn’t expect their relationship to go back to normal, or for the college to be just one passing fancy. He knew it would be just the start of his brother’s career.

And perhaps this is the last thing you’d expect me to bring up at this point, but...

Do you remember this episode? Little Gift Shop of Horrors? It’s often dismissed as non-canon (due to its hidden keyword being “noncanon”), but even if the events in it didn’t actually happen, the characterization remains very much real.

We talk about Ford projecting on Dipper about a relationship being “suffocating,” but Stan was doing some impressive amount of projecting here too, hah, considering that he was more likely than not making up all the stories.

Just. This entire conversation:

Stan couldn’t be more unsubtle if he tried. And of course, Waddles chooses Mabel, his favorite person in the world.

We know whose “favorite person” Stan wants to be...

But again, back to Ford.

Yay, Ford is free of his suffocating relationship with Stan! Free to do things like looking at pictures of Stan with yearning! Writing that he misses Stan in code while yearning! Staring at the Gravity Falls’ lake with yearning because it reminds him of Stan! The last one in particular is very amusing to me because to study anomalies was basically Ford’s dream job and he loved Gravity Falls and... and yet! There is no place in Gravity Falls he would rather stay than the lake...

You might want to read this for the full extent of Ford’s clownery, but just the fact that Ford canonically (per Word of God) carried a picture of baby Stan in the breast pocket of his coat at least as early as his Gravity Falls researcher days to remember his brother by, is... telling.

That is, without even counting the fact that he has actively attempted to replace Stan with Fiddleford, Bill, and then even poor Dipper! Because, again, he yearns! From Alex’s commentary on Society of the Blind Eye:

Ford as somebody who lost Stan is kinda looking for—even though he rejected his brother, he kinda needs, he needs that other person, and he tried to find that in this kinda sweet prodigy and he just pushed him too far.

Yeah, I know. Ford is quite... confusing. What does he want? To use three other people (or triangle) to fill the role of Stan in his life but still reject and stay away from Stan himself? Everything and nothing, at the same time?

And now I need you to bear with me and read this entire excerpt of the HanaHyperfixates’ and ThatGFFan’s interview, most important parts highlighted in bold:

Ford was very much us building backwards. The same way you know a black hole is there by the light warped around it, it’s like, you know the damage someone’s family has done to them by all of their weird tics and behaviors. So who is the character who would result in Stan being this hurt and needy and mad and also longing?

And so we came up with this guy who kinda seemed too perfect. And is distant. He’s aloof, and distant, and he’s too perfect. And it’s like, “oh! I think he’s also aloof and distant from himself.”

I think he is, uh, deeply deeply hiding from his real feelings about things, because at some point early on, he decided that he could run from hurt by achievement and by creation, and has dug that hole so deep that he has no relationships. He doesn’t have friendships, he doesn’t have romantic relationships, he is someone trapped in a tower of his own mind and estranged.

We know Ford has always loved Stan very deeply—and yearned for his company just as badly—through his entire adult life. So what, exactly, changed in old Ford for him to invite Stan to sail away together again, post-Weirdmaggedon?

Well. I have some hypotheses.

First, he spent forty years separated from Stan, and then almost lost him forever (or at least their relationship), from a certain point of view. Have you ever heard that saying that you only know the value of something or someone after you lose it? Teen Ford had never lost Stan, and didn’t know how much he would miss him.

On that same note, all those years separated allowed him to develop a personality and identity of his own, and a very defined and strong one at that. (Yes, poor Stan meanwhile spent that time pretending to be Ford. Ironic.) The Stan twins have also managed to be competent at what was once their weak spot, something they relied fully on their brother for. Stan has managed to learn and understand complex physics to fix the portal. Ford, on the other hand (and we’re focusing more on his feelings, here), has definitely learned how to defend himself physically.

Second, Ford was severely “humbled by the narrative,” so to speak. He thought he would get to be the hero, when the hero (at least in Ford’s own point of view, which is the only point of view that matters) was actually his brother. “Stanley Pines was the man who saved the world, not me.” His pride—and Stan’s own pride as a reaction to Ford’s pride, but again, this analysis is focused on Ford—was a great barrier between him and Stan. And on what regards his self-loathing and subsequent thirst for external validation, he has learned to seek love in the right places. His family. Stan.

Stan, who has always loved him unconditionally, who never considered him a freak in the first place, who has always tried to make him feel as if he belonged, if only on an old boat. Stan, who after Weirdmaggedon is now his priority, above his scientific ambition, symbolized by the journals he was no longer reluctant to destroy.

Another excerpt from the interview I’ve referenced lastly wraps things up perfectly:

[...] and it’s always sweet to see [Stan and Ford] come together again, because they’re so full of themselves, but they are also both so damaged they desperately need each other.

The codependency is mutual—people really should understand this. I don’t think it ever really went away, not in an emotional, psychological sense, despite the two of them having developed separately for decades, as I have elaborated here. They didn’t return to the same place they started because they have matured as individual persons, but the love they had for each other never did decrease. They know, now, exactly how it’s like to stay away from each other, and they... actively prefer not to.

After all, like Ford himself said, “I don’t just want someone to come with me, Stanley, I want it to be you.”

#ford pines #stanford pines #stan twins #stan pines #stanley pines #gravity falls #ford pines meta #stan twins meta #gravity falls meta

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hydrus101 · 1 day ago

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One thing that I find incredibly interesting about Arthur Lester as a character is how he deals with interpersonal conflict.

We've known for a great while now that Arthur is a man incredibly prone to violence. If it's something he can fight physically, if violence is an acceptable answer, he is all in. Tooth and nail, snarling, thumbs dug into soft, yielding eye sockets or leaking open wounds. He is vicious and he is angry and he is wholly determined to survive, ready and willing to take the other party down with him if necessary, if object of his wrath is an enemy, something in his way, something he feels he has earned the right to destroy. The Widow, Kellin, Faust, Larson and his sons, Aldrich Ward, Antoine—near the end when secrets and patience came unraveled—and even William, that childhood friend he'd once cared for so much, they all fell prey to that violence. He and the Butcher are the same in that way: vicious snarling animals.

But if it is a situation that does not call for violence, that cannot be solved by burnt bridges and bloody knuckles, he is avoidant. Incredibly so.

His first instinct when fear took hold and told him that he needed to leave Bella, his wife, wasn't to talk to her, to discuss it like adults. His first instinct was to skip town without a word, without a confrontation, without a fight, like a shadow. He couldn't fight her physically, not that he ever would have. She wasn't something he could intimidate away and he didn't want her to come to harm. He didn't want that confrontation. Even in death, he avoids her. He doesn't attend her funeral.

He acts much the same with Daniel. When they arrive at his doorstep, Arthur pauses, hesitates, tries to turn tail and run from a man he cannot fight because he needs something from him, but John holds him steady and he stays. He talks. He comes out better for it. But he wouldn't have done it without John's help. He would have run.

And again with Oscar, and his proffered purpose. Arthur rejects it, with everything he is and has and believes, but he needs Oscar still. He cannot push him away, because of the stone that still sits in his pocket like a lead weight and threatens to pull him under. (Further still, he will avoid the letter Oscar writes to him, and will not read it until he is certain he is about to die, knowing then that there is no after, and there is no where else to run. And even then, he has waited too long.)

And later still, when John's fears bubble over, when Arthur acknowledges, fully, that John is lying to him, that avoidance drives him. "I don't want to...because of what you may say." He did not want that confrontation with John. He did not want that fight. Why this, out of every other argument they've had, of every other harshly spoken word, why was this the one that Arthur shied from? Why was this the fight that scared him? He's not afraid of conflict with John, we know this, they've done it a thousand times before.

Arthur's shell is thick and armored, steeled against innumerable physical dangers and threats, pain that he can shake off and bounce back from time and time again, but it is the emotions that wound him deepest. Internal lacerations caused not by blades, but words. It is the revelation of knowledge that he cannot fight or run from, of learning that the piece of driftwood he clings to isn't really there at all, or that its truly a cinder-block tied to his ankle, weighing him down. In terms of people he cares about, of people he loves, he would rather torture himself with a thousand possibilities of things

And we learn, from Parker, in the last of the words that he ever spoke, that Arthur always does this. Always pushes the ball down the road. Always avoids what can be confronted today. Always flees when maybe, the better thing to do is to stay.

#he makes me insane #ive genuinely had this analysis in the bank for MONTHS and then Da Capo came out and i stood up and did a big ass fist pump #like “excellent! i got a good grade in arthur analysis which is something normal to want and possible to achieve!”#malevolent #malevolent podcast #arthur lester

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javelinbk · 23 hours ago

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Martin: How did the idea for “Two Of Us” come to you? Did you first of all have an idea to write a film about an aspect of the Beatles - and then arrive at this particular story? Did you start out by wanting to write about the dynamic of John and Paul - and then arrive at this place? Or was this specific story your very first thought?

Mark: I wanted to do something creative with all this ‘useless knowledge’ that I had accumulated over the years, as a sort of purging and also as a kind of tribute, a way of saying thanks. Initially, I thought about writing a biography, but there have been so many. I think it was the conceit that I had some kind of unique insight into the dynamic between John and Paul that really got me started. And I would see these interviews with Paul where, whenever they asked him about John, everything would shift -- his face, his tone of voice. I would watch him and think, "My God, he really loved John, and he hasn't gotten over losing him."

Martin: Did you have an idea of what ground you wanted to cover? i.e. what factual topics you wanted each person to cover. And what emotional terrain you would want each of them to cover?

Mark: I knew that John's painful childhood would play an enormous role in the way I portrayed him, that he would be seen as never having completely come to terms with being unwanted. And I knew that I wanted to get across how much Paul really loved and understood John, which, I believe, is what frightened John.

Martin: Your original script ended with “Here Today” (Paul McCartney’s 1982 tribute song to John) being played - though you were subsequently unable to obtain permission for its use. If there had been total access from the Beatles for their recordings and their publishers for their music - would you have wanted to feature other music by them - and by John and Paul individually? If so - what specifically would you have wanted to use? And to underscore which points in the film?

Mark: It would have been nice to have "Silly Love Songs" in there, since that kind of summed up where Paul was at back then. The song that I kept coming back to, though, as I was writing, was "Jealous Guy". I'm practically convinced that John actually wrote that song for Paul. Whether he knew it or not.

Martin: Were you ever thinking that this might be regarded as a heresy to postulate history? Not just Beatles history - but postulating history with any real-life characters. Did you actively think about any of the precedents in the literary and dramatic tradition where real-life persons have been portrayed? And more particularly about works which have not just depicted known events - but have speculated about things that MIGHT have happened?

Mark: I didn't give it a lot of thought. Certainly it's been done before, from Shakespeare through something like "Melvin and Howard." And, more recently, in films like "Gods and Monsters". "Shakespeare in Love", for that matter.

Beatles historian Martin Lewis interviews Mark Stanfield, screenwriter of Two of Us (2000)

#mark stanfield #two of us (2000)#two of us movie #the beatles #beatles biopics #paul mccartney #john lennon #interviews: other

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daredevils-advocate · 2 days ago

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I need people to stop calling me parasocial for having emotions regarding Sleep Token. In fact, I'm confiscating that term from this fanbase, half of y'all clearly don't know how to use it, you can have it back when you learn what it means.

It is not parasocial to feel sad and angry on their behalf. It is not parasocial to want to protect them. Hearing Vessel talk about these emotions and experiences and feeling sad or angry for him and The Numerals is basic human empathy, it doesn't stop being that just because he's famous instead of someone you know personally. For me, hearing him upset and hurt makes me want to protect him because that came free with my eldest child syndrome as a base instinct. It is a completely normal emotion to have as a response to this album.

What would be parasocial is if I attempted to act on these feelings as if I did know him. Saying that I'm a close friend of his when he doesn't even know I exist would be parasocial. Speaking on his behalf and yelling at/hating on other fans as a way to "protect him" would be parasocial.

I am well aware that I do not know him. I have never claimed to know him. I am aware that he's a grown ass man that can handle his own shit. He doesn't need mine or any of our "protection." Anything of that nature he might hypothetically need comes from his actual, real life support system, not us. These are things that apply to all of us and if you think otherwise, that's actual parasocial behavior.

Stop throwing around terms without knowing what you're talking about.

#why does this fanbase in particular have such a hard time with this concept???#its super fucking weird #sleep token

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honeypiehotchner · 2 days ago

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The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part twenty-five

We're finally on our way to the fluffy weekend chapters!!! Eeeeee!! Y'all have no idea how excited I am to upload the fluff, it's going to be so gooddddddd!!!

Warnings: FLUFF, oh my god these two are fliiiiiirtinggggg, they're communicating???, JJ and Emily are meddlingggg, oh and drama with the case bc eek!

By the time Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss make it back to the BAU, it’s well on its way to ten at night, and none of them expect you to still be there, leaning against your desk in the bullpen waiting for them to return.

“JJ and Reid went home a few hours ago,” you explain. “Garcia and I have been watching movies in her lair,” you chuckle. “She fell asleep.”

Morgan hangs his head, shaking it as he laughs. “I’ll get her home. Goodnight y’all.”

“And I have a hot bath calling my name,” Prentiss says, grabbing her bag from her desk. “Night.”

“Night guys,” you say, your eyes falling to Hotch’s as soon as they leave.

Rossi looks between the two of you, smirking. “I just need to grab a few things from my office, then we can go home,” he says to you with a not-so-subtle wink. “Take your time,” he whispers.

You roll your eyes at him as he goes up the stairs.

You prop yourself on your desk, looking back at Hotch, but he’s still watching you. “What?” you mouth.

“Did you eat dinner?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you nod. “We ordered in before Reid and JJ headed home. And Garcia and I have been shoveling popcorn in our mouths for a couple hours, so,” you laugh.

Hotch laughs too, the sound ringing like a sweet melody in your ears. He looks so tired, but when he’s smiling, it’s like all of it goes away. The exhaustion, the stress. The frustration with you.

You stare at him for a moment too long because then he’s the one mouthing, “What?”

You shake your head. “Nothing.”

He studies you for a second, the soft smile remaining. “You didn’t have to wait up.”

You shrug. “I wanted to make sure you got back okay.” You realize how it sounds a moment too late, so you barrel forward with a new subject. “I’m guessing my medicine cabinet tip didn’t lead anywhere?”

“No, it didn’t have one,” he says, taking mercy on you and not mentioning the other thing. “It was worth a try, though.”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “When I was taken, I remember that bathroom had one. I snooped in it, but it was just…vitamins and allergy medicine. Nothing scary. Or useful, really.” You pause. “Did you really think I’d be more useful here? Is that why you didn’t want me to go?”

He watches you carefully for a moment. “Yes,” he says, and he seems genuine. “But I was also worried we might be walking into a trap. Since you’re the one he’s after,” Hotch pauses, shaking his head, “I didn’t want to risk it.”

You hadn’t even thought of that. “Oh.”

“I know how it looked,” he continues. “But it wasn’t a matter of me thinking you weren’t capable of handling—”

“I know,” you smile softly. “I see that now.”

He relaxes. “Did Garcia find anything with the laptop?”

“Not yet,” you frown. “We’ll continue tomorrow, though.”

Hotch nods. “Yes, get a good night’s rest and we’ll start again tomorrow.”

“Okay,” you murmur, something in you not wanting this moment to end, standing here with him in the barren bullpen, in the dim lighting, his hair just a little messy, his face softer, the words you’re sharing with him softer than they’ve ever been. But it has to end, so you say, “Goodnight.”

And he nods once, taking the hint, the ending of the conversation. “Night.”

He heads up to his office to gather his things. He talks with Rossi for a moment, but doesn’t leave with him when Rossi comes down the stairs to you.

“Don’t worry, I told him not to stay too late,” Rossi teases. “C’mon, let’s go home.”

“To your mansion, you mean,” you snicker.

“Details, details.”

+++

The next day brings with it the damning confirmation that the unsub is after Richard Monroe. Richard had emailed William before he escaped from prison, warning him, in various vague and ominous terms, that “he” was coming after them. William never got to write a reply.

Garcia projects the email onto the screen in the conference room. “So that’s…bad.”

JJ nods slowly. “Uh…yeah.”

“Richard sounds terrified,” Reid says.

“Which means we aren’t going to find him,” you reply.

From the seat next to you, Hotch turns his head. “Why do you sound so certain?”

You stare at the words on the screen. “Gut feeling.” You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. You barely notice the hint of his lips tugging upward. “He was on the run from the FBI for how long?”

“Two years, ten months, and two days,” Reid rattles off. “Before Lila was kidnapped.”

“That’s a long time to be off the grid completely,” you nod in thanks to Reid. “I don’t know if we’ll find him. I don’t know if the unsub will even be able to find him.”

“Let’s not underestimate this guy,” Morgan jumps in. “He’s clearly intelligent and clever, I mean, we still don’t have any idea who he is.”

“Well,” you say, but you stop yourself, glancing once again at Hotch who gives nothing away.

“Well?” Prentiss repeats, leaning onto her elbows on the table. “Did you find something?”

“Not exactly,” Hotch says, looking at you.

Okay, noted, he wants you to be the one to say it. You sigh and look around at everyone’s worried faces.

“We’ve been speculating, and I'm pretty certain now, that this unsub could actually be the same man who kidnapped me when I was fourteen,” you begin. “And that he could be a friend of my dad’s, maybe a distant relative, but I think a close friend is more likely. Someone who might’ve known me when I was younger before he kidnapped me, but obviously I don’t remember him — from the kidnapping or before that.”

“We always had the idea that the kidnapper might’ve been someone you or your dad knew,” Rossi explains.

“In situations like these, it typically is someone that knows the child,” Reid adds.

“Exactly,” you nod.

“So, what, is he obsessed with you because he wants to have round two?” Morgan asks incredulously. “Make you remember the kidnapping…why?”

“I have no idea,” you admit.

“Okay, he said we’re getting warmer,” JJ says. “Getting warmer to what? Finding out who he is?”

“I think he’s reaching a breaking point,” Hotch jumps in. “I think he wants us — specifically you,” he glances over at you, “to remember him, to know him and know his name. He wants us to know who he is so he can have the credit, and so, in his eyes, I guess, we can see how great he is.”

Prentiss scoffs. “Right. This guy probably thinks he’s the most amazing man on the planet and he just can’t believe you haven’t figured out who he is yet.”

“Precisely,” Rossi says.

“Alright, well, we know what we’re each looking at, so let’s keep going,” Hotch says. “Remember nothing is too small, and we need a handle on this before Strauss changes her mind.”

You chuckle at that. You knew it was unlike Strauss to allow you all to work on this case under her nose, and then order it to be your top priority. You imagine her patience only lasts for so long with a drawn out case like this when the BAU could be of use elsewhere. And there is always someone else who needs the BAU’s help.

Still, though, you all keep working. You and Hotch return to the files scattered all over his office, spending the day together pacing the room and analyzing whatever you can find. The team says nothing about the two of you spending so much time together — in a small space, no less — without arguing as much as you used to. Sure, there are some quips here and there, you snap at him and vice versa, but nothing like before. Not even close.

By the time the day winds to a close, you realize Rossi leaves tomorrow. Which leaves you. Alone with Hotch. For the weekend.

It’ll be fine. You’ll have to keep telling yourself that so it actually will be fine.

The two of you have gotten along better than you could’ve even imagined or expected the past few days, but it’s been here. At work. With the case keeping you occupied.

You have no idea what’s going to happen if the two of you aren’t here, working on this case. But there’s no way you could convince him to come into the office on the weekend. Not even with how awful his balance is between work and home. He’s too… Well, you don’t know what to call it, but it’s something about the way he is about you. Maybe it’s because he cares. Maybe it’s not.

You don’t know anymore. And you’ll go crazy thinking yourself in circles like this, so you stop trying to make sense of it.

This is probably just what a normal, civil friendship looks like and you’re just losing it because you and Hotch and civil have never been in the same sentence before.

It’s so beyond abnormal for the two of you to not fight. And it might be becoming the new normal, if the two of you keep this up. If the two of you can figure out how to keep this up.

+++

Hotch decides, for better or for worse, that it isn’t safe for you to drive your car. You don’t argue with him. It’s suspicious enough that your car hasn’t moved from your apartment building’s lot, and if the unsub is watching you, it’ll no doubt be suspicious if your car moves out of nowhere.

The rest of the team lingers a bit in the office Friday afternoon. Rossi left to catch his flight a few hours ago, but no one else seems to want to leave.

“Is he packing away the files?” JJ nods up toward Hotch in his office.

You glance once before nodding, just to cover your ass. You know exactly what he’s doing because the two of you spoke about it. Neither of you can bring yourselves to put the case down fully for the weekend. Rossi has all but told you guys to stay out of the office, for God’s sake, just for the weekend, but that doesn’t mean you can’t take files with you — Hotch normally does it anyway. It’s not like this is any different.

“What’s that look on your face?” Emily asks, looking back and forth between you and Hotch.

“Nothing,” you answer quickly. “Why? What’s wrong with my face?”

Reid looks up from his book, narrowing his eyes at you. “Nothing’s on your face.”

“Thank you,” you say to Reid, gesturing to him. “I’m glad someone is on my side.”

Emily rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on.”

Spencer suddenly jumps up, nearly dropping his books as he rushes to put things in his bag.

“You good?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah, forgot I have a reading to go to,” Spencer says. “It’s for this biography I read last week about this astrophysicist— Anyway,” he looks directly at you, “enjoy your weekend with Hotch!”

Your jaw damn near drops to the floor, but before you can scold Reid for that comment, he’s out the door and turning toward the staircase.

Before you turn back to Emily and JJ, all you can think is how glad you are that Morgan and Garcia are in her lair and not listening to this.

Emily is smirking when you turn back around. “So…your weekend with Hotch?”

You have no idea how Spencer found out about that, but that obviously doesn’t matter anymore.

“Anything you want to share?” JJ shares a look with Emily, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Not really,” you grimace, putting your head in your hands. “Look, it’s nothing.”

“You’re spending the weekend with Hotch,” JJ repeats, grabbing a chair and rolling it closer. Emily does the same, both crowding around your desk with you like it’s gossip time in the middle of the high school cafeteria. “What are you doing?” she whispers.

“Nothing!” you hiss. “Rossi had that guest lecture to go to, and I don’t want to be alone— I probably shouldn’t be alone right now, so I…asked Hotch if he would stay with me. At Rossi’s. Just for the weekend.”

JJ and Emily share knowing looks.

“What?” you almost shriek. “What is that look?”

“Nothing,” they echo.

“Guys,” you deadpan. “It’s nothing. JJ, you literally have plans with Will this weekend. And you,” you look at Emily, “how many times have you canceled your fun plans for a case we’ve had? Too many!” You pause. “And Pen told me her and Derek already have a movie weekend planned.”

“Oh, right, a movie weekend that they wouldn’t possibly let you join in on,” Emily teases.

You open your mouth for another excuse, but you don’t have one. And that’s all these are, really. They’re just excuses. You needed excuses for why you asked Hotch to stay with you without hesitation. Why you barely thought twice before asking him to stay with you, when you easily could’ve asked to stay at Pen’s with her and Derek. That would’ve made more sense.

Instead, you asked Hotch. Of all people. You asked Aaron.

“Don’t look too closely at it,” you urge them, leaning into them both. “Please, it’s nothing. We’re just going to keep going with the case — just from the comfort of Rossi’s mansion instead of these stuffy desks.”

“Right,” JJ nods seriously.

Emily shrugs, agreeing, “Right.”

“I hate you both,” you mutter, standing to your feet. You glance up to Hotch’s office and see he’s starting to gather everything into his hands, and you’ve never been so ready to leave — with him, of all people. “I’m leaving. Enjoy your weekends.”

“Enjoy yours too,” Emily sings.

You give them both the bird as you walk away, up the stairs to retrieve Hotch.

He’s just flipping off the lights as you reach the second level. “Hey,” he smiles softly. “Ready?”

“Ready,” you reply. “Do you need help?”

“No, I’ve got it,” he chuckles, despite looking very much weighed down by his bag and file box. He glances behind him at the open door. “Actually, could you—”

“I’ve got it, move over,” you laugh, waiting for him to step out of the way so you can pull the door closed. He steps the wrong way, though, knocking right into you, and you roll your eyes. “Your other left, you dumbass.”

“Sorry,” he laughs with you, moving in front of you, closer to the railing instead.

You shut the door, checking that it’s locked. “There.” You spin back around to see Emily and JJ not-so-subtly giving you and Hotch looks. “Goodbye, you two.”

“Bye,” JJ waves.

“Have fun,” Emily says.

You’re rolling your eyes as you leave the BAU, holding the door open for Hotch and then pressing the down arrow for the elevator.

“They’re still watching, aren’t they?” you ask.

Hotch cranes his neck. “Yep.”

“We have the nosiest coworkers in existence.”

“Comes with the job, I guess,” Hotch shrugs.

“This is true,” you concede. “You’re just as nosy— probably worse.”

“Hey,” he laughs awkwardly.

“Hey,” you reply with a smirk, knocking your shoulder into his arm just as the elevator arrives.

You want to say something else, but what? Is this where you’re both at now? Joking about him going behind your back and looking into your past? Is it something you’re just going to be able to joke about now?

What neither of you see is just down the hall, Derek and Penelope were heading out as well, though they pause when they hear you and Hotch speaking. They watch as you both joke, as you even give a flirty touch to Hotch’s arm.

Pen grips Derek’s forearm as his jaw drops just a little. “See!” Pen hisses. “I told you something was going on!”

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x you #hotch x reader #hotch x fem!reader #hotch fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #The Gambit #FLUFF?#FLUFF YOU SAY?#y'all better strap in for the next couple chapters #we did it joe #we've finally reached a point of pure FLUFF!!!#i'm so excited

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transformers-spike · 2 days ago

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*Bows* For u, o mighty Tf Spike. Another blurb abt AMAB Reader in the BDKO thing but on the other side, so to speak. GN Reader but Amab still!

- @squibsformers

-----

“I think he hates me.”

Knock Out didn't even really look up from what he was working on, wrist deep in some poor vehicon.

“He does.”

You winced, shuddering a bit at the blasé response. Picking at the cushion you sat on, you waited for Knock Out to maybe expand more on that, or explain or… something.

“Hates all humans, actually. You heard what your kind did. Shocked he's kept you alive as long as he has. But, then again… I like you. So he probably lets you stay alive to keep me happy.”

You shrank more into yourself, miserable at how he freely admitted to that. Asshole. Perfect, beautiful asshole.

“However…” He grunted before pulling a piece of shrapnel out of the vehicon's chassis, motioning him to sit up and get out, once his chassis closed up. You gave the mech a wave as he left. “However, I'm working on it. Think of it as… ah… Vaccines. I'm inoculating him to the hate by keeping you around so Breakdown will grow to enjoy you and your company.”

You blinked. Then looked up at Knock Out.

“Wait, you… you're Pavloving him to like me?”

“I don't know what that is, but probably.” Once he had cleaned up, he made his way over to you, lightly tapping you on the top of your head before rubbing it. “Trust me on this, I know what I'm doing.”

“I sure hope so…” Came the grumbled noise from you. Your cherry red doc bot held his hand open, and you obediently sat in his palm, letting him lift you and take you to his desk, sliding you out of his cupped servo and onto the desk. He lowered his face down, staring at you in a way that both felt like a fox that cornered a mouse, and a smug child who out-thought a teacher's rules into doing something they probably shouldn't.

“Now… should out oh so… benevolent leader not have anymore… crashouts, was it? I think I want to do a bonding exercise with my juxie and you.”

The mech slid a small… something over towards you. You wouldn't have been able to figure it out had there not been a little red light and you saw yourself on one of the holo-screens. A clawed servo looped the crotch of your shorts and begun pulling them off you-

This led to a small moment of you swearing and cursing him out as Knock Out had pretty much lifted you an inch or two off the desk trying to tug them off and lightly shaking you, as if you were a stubborn piece of candy not coming out of a bag. You swatted at him angrily and popped the button of your shorts, and the strain unzipped them and made you pretty much splat onto the desk in a heap.

… There was a slight blue tinge to his face plates as you glared at him. Good. Be embarrassed.

However, that irritation was practically vanished as his thumb pressed your wrists down against the desk, and you felt his glossa, all hot and slick and devious, slide against your petite little cock, servicing you with a rich purr. When your spine arched, and you let out a groan with your eyes fluttering shut… he used his pinky to nudge your face, making you look into the camera.

“Eyes there, my precocious little dear. Show Breakdown just how good you feel from my intake. Thaaat's it. Moan louder for him...”

Bro I need to consume this

KO calling BD his "juxie"? KO using the term "crashout" regarding Megatron? Bro i love what you're doing - I'm eating my laptop as I type this

I'm a big fan of voyeurism, especially if it's all about putting on a show - and I loveeee the micr-macro of your stories, it captures the beauty of being a tiny human being handled by a giant alien robot

#transformers x reader #transformers x human #maccadam #transformers prime #valveplug #tfp knock out #tfp knock out x reader #tfp breakdown #amab reader #i needed this with my whole soul #esp after the day i've had

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venxomi · 20 hours ago

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TBHK Chapter 126 Analysis - The cost of a reckless wish

The Hourglass

The chapter begins with Nene flipping the Hourglass, but it not activating for a simple reason- According to last chapter, you need to make a wish first. The Hourglass simply didn't take effect because Nene hadn't made one.

So when the cat jumped in and saved her, explaining to Kako that it had only intervened because it relates to wanting to help- or save others. It was the wish of the one the cat had been before, and now it was Nene's. Because of the cat, the Hourglass now knew what Nene desired and, as a result, activated.

In essence, the Hourglass needed to know what the user wanted. Otherwise, how could it send Nene on endless loops, and, just like the other victims, have her soul waste away?

Along with information from the previous chapter, we have further confirmation that this Hourglass is nothing but an entity that, just like the pit god, wants to consume. In this chapter, it's shown directly- Nene is turned into sand as she is kept within the hourglass. It speaks to her.

"I am- We are- The Flow. Power. Time. Sand."

The Hourglass essentially boasts its capabilities; That it's a constant. That it's powerful. That it's limitless. And that's not the only thing. "I am- We are-" suggests that it's made up of a collective consciousness.

"Welcome! You have come to join us!"; It's not even trying to hide its goal, is it? To amass one more consciousness, one more soul within it, as it's made up of its users' corroded souls.

Did you know? Sand forms when rocks break down from weathering and eroding over thousands and even millions of years. But the Hourglass' process is faster than just waiting such an absurd amount of time. The moment Nene flipped the hourglass, the process had already begun. Along with the sand, Nene passes through it. Again and again. Again and again. Until her soul, slowly but surely, erodes into fine sand.

To put it in extremely simple terms, Kako was right. It's not an item that is actually capable of helping you reach your desired outcome. It dangles it in front of you like a carrot on a stick. That is all. It proves to you that it is capable of leading you to your desired result, but it doesn't allow you to reach it. No matter what you do, no matter how hard you think or how many times you try in desperation, you are unable to grasp the bait, the flicker of hope, in front of you.

One who sought riches would be killed by bandits. One who sought to gain someone's love ended herself and that someone. One who sought fame was killed by envy. One who wished to bring back people for the sake of someone else had that someone else disappear from existence. And one who simply wished to save her friends... Had them killed by her own hand.

But it's all right. For as long her soul is still in one piece, she can keep trying. Again and again and again... Wrapping her in its hands, pushing her down and continuing the slow process of corrosion. A fake "Good luck", an ironic one, fully aware of the end result.

Dehumanization

If you are familiar with my analysis of chapter 121, this is basically an expansion of it.

In it I talked about Amane's dehumanization process, how he is a victim of the Red House, a trapped soul who is unable to disobey, and also about having to kill his own family, his own little brother he loved so much, and then being forced into killing countless other people for the pit god which desensitized him completely.

Nene is directly put into Amane's shoes, where she fell victim to the Red House and was forced into its servitude. Unlike Kou in the past, who had been exorcised before he could harm the people he loved, Nene wasn't so lucky. She had to kill the friends she desperately attempted several times to save.

In this scene, Amane is projecting onto Nene, as she is in the same position as he once was. Holding onto her to prevent her from falling in a twisted way of providing comfort, possibly.

His assertion "See? I knew you could do it." suggested that a possessed Nene hesitated killing her loved ones, and maybe that struck a cord within him. That he had hesitated to kill his own family aswell, but he had no choice. That, just like him, she could do it. To further prove him right, that there's no meaning to life, death or anything else in this cursed house.

At that moment, The Red House had initiated a new feeder, freshly dehumanized. A kindred spirit.

Nene's sanity is frayed and she fell into despair. Her figure doesn't appear in the hourglass anymore as she flips the hourglass in a panic.

A new glimmer of hope (?)

Nene is now at her wits' end. She didn't even understand what had happened, only that she killed everyone. She can't figure out why. As a result, as she guessed, she would've repeated the same mistake.

However, a new hope emerges after she had been plunged into despair; The Clock Keeper of the Present. Will this hope be genuine and not just a carrot on a stick that Nene prepared to sacrifice everything for in vain?

Akane subtly reflecting in Nene's eyes reflect her desire to grasp on any sliver of hope she can find.

Thoughts and Predictions

Going a bit on an unserious remark, as a Re:Zero fan I absolutely loved this chapter. Subaru (who, if you don't know about the series, travels back to a point in time when he dies. He dies and suffers in various attempts to save the people he loves... A hell lot. He is unable to speak of this ability to others, so he suffers in silence.) has gained one more kindred spirit. I even illustrated this quick doodle of Nene and Subaru!

Back on topic, on the rare case that this is the worst she'll be through, it will permanently mentally scar her. Perhaps she might be able to put on a facade and pretend everything's fine, but no one is ever fine after being part of such horrors, having your friends die several times because of your failed attempts, and ultimately having them die by your very own hands. And if she's unable to speak about her experiences as this chapter suggested where she couldn't mention being from the future, then it's really over. I'm of the personal opinion that Iro will break Nene in order to further develop her character. Hit the bar as low as you possibly can, for your character to rise higher than ever before- That kind of technique. Every passing chapter seems to solidify this. Nene's flaws are tripping her up and making her horribly fail. She resolved to save everyone and fought by herself, but she was far too reckless in her desperation. Made a reckless decision of coming into contact with an entity that was properly explained as dangerous, had a hasty wish, and couldn't even figure out what actually needed to be changed after several attempts. She could only further fall into despair and break. I can't really put it into words properly as of now, but I can grasp what Iro wants to do with her character. Slowly, but surely, Iro has been working for this all along. Nene can no longer be ignorant of the world's cruelty. If she wants to understand and save everyone from it, she has to experience it for herself. Whether she gives up or stands back up as a result, it's a choice only she can make, isn't it?

As for Akane, as far as I can predict with the current information, there's 2 possibilities: 1. The Akane we see at the end is Akane of the 'original' timeline. The Clock Keepers' Boundary seems to be unaffected by changes in time (as it still exists despite the 7 Mysteries not existing in the new timeline), so if Akane stayed in there, then a Paradox could've been created where multiple "Akane Aoi" exist at the same time. 2. As the Clock Keeper of the Present, Akane is aware of all the attempts Nene made with the Hourglass, and as a result came to search for her after he died by her hands, aware of what just transpired. Both seem valid enough to me, so I'm honestly just curious. Can't wait until next chapter.

The cat's lines and interactions in chapter 126 further solidifies to me that it's related to Amane who had attempted to go back in time in 1968.

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littlerequiem · 2 days ago

Text

LEVI/F!READER/ERWIN | ROYALTY AU | P. 2 OF 2

Having had enough of your father pushing suitor after suitor on you, you make a vow: before the night is over, you will experience pleasure on your own terms. But as the saying goes, forbidden fruit is the sweetest—and no fruit is more tempting than the one your two knights have to offer.

> Crossposted on AO3

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - Levi Ackerman / Female Reader / Erwin Smith (Attack on Titan)

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 - Rated Explicit (18+) - Royalty AU, Inspired by HOTD, Threesome, First Time, Oral (f.receiving), Fingering, Smut and Fluff, Vaginal Sex, Aftercare, Swearing, Hurt/Comfort (WC: 6.6k)

( Previous part )

You stand there, looking at them.

Or is it them looking at you?

Awash in tender light, on the precipice of something rare and uncharted, it's hard to think. Because you are here, but not as you once before. Your lips still taste Erwin’s lips; your waist still bears Levi's grip. The air vibrates with what was shared, a charged current that sees you not as princess or guard, but as equal conspirators in this evening.

You’re the first to break this estranged silence. It starts with a step forward, then another. You reach for Levi's shirt first, knowing that Erwin is next in your little game.

Levi's hand stops you short.

"Princess."

An intensity falls across Levi's features then; a scowl forms on yours. Without saying a word, he tilts his head sideways, cocking it like he was assessing you. His hands fall on your waist. Before you know it, you're being whirled around, and the air is taken out of your lungs as you fall onto your bed.

"What the devil are you—" you protest.

But Levi interrupts you with a grunt. He bends down and grabs your chin, leveling your gaze with his own.

"That isn't how this works, Princess. Tonight is about you. Tonight, your pleasure is ours." You gape a little. His eyes darken, making your insides twist with teetering excitement. "You wished for that, didn't you? To know what sodding pleasure is?"

The reminder of your confession makes you feel warm all over. You gulp, the knot bobbing against Levi's thumb, and your eyes stray to Erwin.

"Typical, looking at him for reassurance." Levi slides away, kneeling on one knee. He begins to unlace your boots. "What did I tell you, Erwin?"

The mattress shifts; Erwin has found his spot close to you. His calloused fingers stroke the valley of your cheek, an offer of tenderness in the midst of all this tension. "Oh, I don't know, Levi. You didn't see the way she was looking at you just now. Properly besotted, I think." He leans closer, his breath fanning over the ridge of your nose. "Aren't you besotted, beloved?"

Erwin's newfound nickname for you, beloved, turns your insides to mush. You manage a nod well enough, but your brain blanks.

"You'll let us treat you right, won't you?" Erwin asks. His cologne—musky and vibrant—are all you can smell. "To show you the meaning of pleasure?"

Your eyes flutter, breath caught in the middle of your chest. "I..."

"And if there's something that displeases you, you need only say the word."

"Yes."

You know your response comes out overeager, giddy, like a schoolgirl on the precipice of receiving sweets. Erwin pays it no mind. He takes to nuzzling your neck, murmuring against your skin, "Precious girl. What a precious girl you are."

This time, you do whine a little, your core blooming with heat. Intoxicating, the kind of warmth that makes you squeeze your tights together in fear of it escaping. It only deepens as Erwin's large hands drag over your belly, stabilizing you into a half-seated position that allows him full jurisdiction over your neck. There, he lays out kisses that spark embers in their wake.

"Erwin," you choke, fingers fiddling with the fabric of your nightgown.

In response, Erwin hums, the sound of which buzzes into your brain, as if telling you that yes, we want you and you push further against him, yes, please, I want you both.

Levi, done removing your shoes, moves to stroking your calves. You're wearing stockings that reach your knees, but Levi doesn't remove them; you feel his fingertips gently explore past them, making you gasp.

"You're so sensitive," you hear him tease, his touches circling upwards. A shudder wracks through your spine. "Figures.”

For once, you don’t come up with a clever reply.

Levi bunches your skirt, hitching it up to reveal bare skin. You feel blood rush across your body, all too aware just how exposed you are, how he’s this close to seeing all of you. Even Erwin's mouth on your neck—neither lacking in vigor or curiosity—isn't enough to distract you.

What if you can't do this after all?

Levi presses pecks across your inner thighs, his index hooking with your waistband and tugging it down. Your cunt is exposed, and your nerves wind tight. Instinctively, your free leg wraps around Levi's skull, twisting and squeezing to hide from him.

"Ssh, beloved," Erwin's voice soothes your ear. He's paused in his exploration, massaging your nape with his broad touch instead. "Do you want us to stop?"

"N-no. Just... jus nervous. Ignore me."

"You need to relax."

Erwin's right, of course. You're rigid as a tree, squeamish from all the new sensations and everything that lies ahead. You're surprised Levi hasn't told you off for squeezing his face.

"Just lean into me and let Levi show you just how much he's dreamed of this," Erwin ushers. Your thighs instinctively relax. You feel Levi press a scorching kiss on your inner thigh, as if praising you. "He's going to be gentle with you, I promise. You can do that for us, can't you?"

Still wound up, you manage a nod. Erwin hums, clearly content to see you so responsive to his words. He briefly breaks away as he grabs a pillow, tucking your head gently beneath it. He then finds his spot next to you again, his broad hand dragging over the expanse of your nightgown, his warm breath fluttering against your cheek.

By now, Levi's finger pads are almost on your cunt. He doesn't say anything, but you think you hear him inhale sharply, just as his eyes briefly flickers to meet yours. His pupils are blown black. Without saying a word, he bunches your nightgown further up, and when you tilt your head up to watch with bated breaths, the look in his eyes is that of a man in a trance.

You're bare for him—for them.

"I... I do not know if it is adequate," you confess, throwing your head back and staring at the ceiling. "I didn't... I didn't think—"

"Shh." Erwin presses a kiss to your temple. "Don't even think about that. You're perfect."

Erwin's words still aren't enough to completely appease you. You press your palms into your eyes, shifting nervously. What if Levi hates what he sees? What if he dislikes the hair and the sensation and—

Levi’s mouth falls on your sex.

You gasp—a sharp hiccup that tangles with Erwin’s ragged breath in your ear.

This is... not what expected.

No, when Levi got on his knees, you expected fingers, similarly to the way you touch yourself at night when all you dreamed of was absolution in this. Instead, Levi has given you something more, something you never thought would be yours to experience.

And it makes your heart race.

Before you know it, Levi parts you with his tongue, warm and deft, and your calves are thrown over his shoulders, where he steadies you for the onslaught of pleasure he gives unabated.

Erwin's hands, too, have wandered, removing your garment far enough to expose your collarbone. His large fingers subtly draw shapes over your skin, like he was using your flesh as a canvas. He starts from your shoulder blades, and draws ever closer to your right breast, while his mouth remains sewn to the tendon on her neck, devotion on his tongue. You feel your nipples harden, watching as Erwin briefly retracts and his gaze flickers towards you.

His fingers stop short. "May I touch you?"

You can only nod, a buildup blooming at your core that's making it hard to think, both because of Levi's delicious licks and the way Erwin is staring at you right now. You squirm, your insides aching. Erwin's giant hand carefully slides under your chemise, tracing a path over the swell of your breast, then cupping it. A soft moan slips out of you, undeterred, and your fingers tangle with whatever fabric you find within reach until you find yourself pulling the fitted sheets loose.

"You like that, beloved?" Erwin purrs.

"Y-yes."

As if fuelled by your sweetness, Levi's tongue changes rhythm, a teasing motion that lights you up. Your whine comes out desperate, in a series of hiccups.

"Feel that, beloved? How much Levi aims to please you?" Erwin murmurs. "How long he's waited?"

The thought sends a new wave of pleasure over you, like sparks igniting beneath your skin. Against Levi, you arch back, surprised by the magnitude of your reaction, your breath catching in your throat like a bird in a cage. With delirium in your veins, your next movements are mechanical: you roll your hips, attempting to follow Levi's tongue and chase the spot you most crave. It only seems to ignite something in Levi, who licks and explores with a maddening sweep of his tongue, and grabs your thighs with a bruising grip. Long fingers on bare, flaming skin are all you can feel.

"Er-w-win, I'm not sure how to-," you confess, the knot in your core growing tighter. There’s butterflies swimming at the front of your brain, and your hands feel clammy. "I've never, not in front of anyone..."

With his free hand, Erwin brushes back your sweaty forehead, pressing a kiss on your cheek. "Just let it go, beloved. Focus on the sensation."

"B-but, I don't... I don't know that I... what if—"

Before you know it, the pleasure stops. You snap your attention to the edge of the bed. Levi has slipped away, his gray eyes boring straight into you. There's a layer of shine dripping down his lips and chin—remnants of you.

The world stops moving right at that moment. You want to grab Levi into a searing kiss; you want to get lost in this forever.

Instead, you’re beckoned by Levi’s curt voice. "Princess, breathe." Prowling like a cat, Levi comes close, his slender fingers cupping your too-warm cheeks. "Between these walls, nothing else matters. Just us."

You clings to his hand, mulling those words over. The truth behind your short existence.

For so long, life has felt like an ever-ending fight. A princess of the realm, destined to never be enough. Always running, always trying to catch up and meet the impossible standards placed on your shoulders. Proving to yourself—to your father and to all his subjects— that you deserved your position. That you were just as deserving as a man, that you deserved a seat at the table. Doing all of that... and somehow always failing.

But this, right now... it is no failure. You are enough. Erwin and Levi have given you wings of your own, willing you to the sun, and you feel like you're all soaring through the sky together. Tasting the clouds, the air, the freedom.

"Just us," you repeat, squeezing his hand tighter.

Just you and Levi and Erwin. Your two loyal knights, your friends.

Your lovers.

Satisfied by your reassuring grip, Levi's stare flickers towards Erwin, whose fingers are laid on the bud of your breast like it was a flower amongst a field of green.

"Levi," Erwin's voice is sweet like honey, "come here."

In response, Levi's brows knit together, but he does as he is bid. With Erwin’s fingers still massaging your breast, Levi and Erwin exchange a brief kiss, quick and messy and wet. Your eyes flutter at the sight, warmth spreading through your torso.

When Levi pulls away, it is to roll his eyes. "You're so obvious, you dolt."

Erwin's voice is husky, almost needy. "She does taste wonderful, doesn't she? Just as we always dreamed she would."

"Yeah."

Levi doesn’t look at you as he kneels back down at the edge of your world. Your eyes search for an answer in Erwin, but the latter only flashes you an easy smile that makes it quite clear you heard them correctly.

Just as they always dreamed?

"Erwin—"

But already, you're silenced as Levi's mouth descends between your legs again, this time with added pressure, with increased reverence. He starts with the same circling motion with his tongue, only to move down.

Oh.

Instead of lavishing your vulva as he had done before, Levi's tongue has plunged into you, precise and deadly. Your mouth parts, and he shifts, edging in further in. A flash of white builds through your vision.

Oh, indeed.

"There, do you feel how desperate Levi is to please you?" Erwin murmurs, the smell of his cologne enveloping you again. It makes your mouth water, makes your tongue pant in breathy huffs to taste it. "He loves nothing more than to show you."

In response, you stifle a whimper, biting down on your knuckles, self-conscious on the lewd noises coming out of you. Your hips continue to chase gratification all the same, rolling with clumsy movements, one desire stringing you along: more, more, more. Pleasure is guided by Levi's vice grip of your thighs, rocking his movements back and forth—between this and Erwin kissing your neck, you know you won't last long.

"Don't silence yourself," Erwin says, no—pleads. "Not here, not with us."

And then, Erwin pinches your nipple, hard, while his mouth sucks on the juncture between your neck and shoulder. At once, a shudder wracks down your spine, and you moan—long, hard, and loud.

You think you call out to them then.

You're abstractly aware of Erwin saying your name, but before you can say a thing, Levi's fingers slip into you, pumping into you and stretching you. The coil begins to tighten. Heat blooms everywhere—scorching white, erupting beneath every cell in your body, making you feel like the sun itself. It’s too much and not enough at the same time. You need more. More, more, more. Your blood seems to sing for those words— wanting them both closer, wanting them to consume you.

You never want to leave this room.

Levi slips a second finger inside. Curls it.

You gasp.

“Are you close?” Erwin murmurs.

“Y-yes, hah... I... just, I—“

“Need that last push?”

Toes curling behind Levi’s neck, you bite your lower lip, managing to puff out, “Uh-huh.”

“Levi, you heard our princess.”

Levi responds with a muffled groan. Your body trembles as his mouth falls to your cunt again, this time focusing on sucking the sensitive nub at the top. All the while, his fingers continue to slide in and out, rubbing against your pelvis. Your throat is dry like sand, the coil in your belly pressing against the edges of your mind. Levi’s ministrations are feverish and you are reduced to a babbling mess, rutting against him with desperation.

Erwin is there to guide you through it all. “Let it go, beloved.”

Just as Erwin gives his command, Levi's tongue flicks your clit in just the way you'd needed most right now, and the flames take you.

Your vision blurs.

At once, pleasure surges and claims its place between your bones. Your entire body shakes, your head flung back against the pillows, your fingers digging into the mattress, body writhing in the sheets. Levi’s grip tightens on you, his tongue soothing as your body spasms.

Holy Rose, Maria, Sina.

As you navigate this newfound high, you're vaguely aware of Levi licking and tasting and devouring. He tugs at the hems of your dress, groaning against you, like he was licking every inch of you, making out with your sex. Meanwhile, Erwin... Erwin is palming himself through his breaches, transfixed on the painting in front of him—on Levi, on you. His two lovers.

You gasp, knowing this moment will be scorched into your brain for all the ages to come.

When at last, Levi rises to his feet, the first thing you notice is that his cheeks are dusted pink. His lips are swollen and puffy…

Dark as a storm.

Levi wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, sitting on your opposite side. “How was that?”

“I think I saw our Gods.”

"Which ones?"

“All of them.”

“Dramatic.”

“It’s a compliment to you.” You consider throwing a pillow at Levi, just to score some petty points, but ultimately abstain from it. You turn to Erwin instead. “Tell me, is it… is it truly always so wonderful?”

You don't care how much of an ingenue you come across saying those words; the hearts in your eyes must give away just what this means to you.

“Sex is what you make it.” Erwin chuckles, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “It is not always about reaching your own end, or your partner’s. Ultimately, healthy communication is key, as is trust and enjoyment.”

“I see.” Your head slopes to the side, admiring Erwin’s aquiline nose, dotted with a constellation of freckles. His hand caresses below your belly button, making you shiver. “I suppose this is what you were both so busy with during your training as squires, huh?"

Erwin laughs. Levi clicks his tongue.

With renewed enthusiasm, you push yourself up by your elbows, glancing between them. How long had you wanted them like this? Years. Now, both of their gazes are on you, and the night has only begun.

“I know tonight is about me…” Your eyes briefly flicker to their groin areas, noticing the tent-like shape that has formed against the fabric of their clothes. Your mouth drools before you can help it; you quickly it down swallow and look back at them. “But what if I wish to please you too?”

They exchange a look, but it Levi who speaks up first. "Princess, we understand your want, but once you do this—"

"Virginity is a made-up construct, Levi. It is not real," you say, dismissing the notion altogether. "When I am queen, I will make sure to change that. In the meantime, I will decide what I do with my body." A pause, one where you tilt your head uncertainly. "Of course, if you do not wish to do this, that is another matter entirely. I would understand.”

"That's not what I meant," Levi says with clipped irritation.

"Your Highness, are you certain about this?" Erwin attempts to soften the blow. “Levi has a point—”

"I am perfectly certain of my own desires, yes."

Your conviction, or perhaps something in your stare, seems to convince them on your feelings on the matter. They go silent, look at each other one last time, and then Erwin chuckles softly. "Levi, why don't you lie next to her?"

"Yeah," Levi mutters. "She's gonna need me to guide her through it."

"Hey! I'm not some helpless damsel."

"Never said you were." Levi shoots you a look, sitting next to you. “Just put your stupid pride aside and take my help.”

Behind him, Erwin is unbuckling his belt, the sound of leather drawn tight. You wish it would all go faster.

You eye Levi. "But what are you going to do while he...?"

Levi answers by shifting closer to you. With a ragged breath, his slender finger reach for the buttons of your chemise. As he coaxes the last one to open, his eyes flicker to you. A silent question.

Heart stuttering, you nod. With his help, the garments come off. Now fully exposed to them, the reprieve you get of Levi briefly drawing back to fold your nightgown away is temporary; soon, you sense both their heated gazes on you. You cross your arms over your breasts, but Levi gently intertwines his hand with your own, moving to kiss your knuckles with added reassurance.

"I'll watch," Levi finally states.

You place a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat soaring away. Like fine marble, Levi's muscles would be worthy to be displayed in a museum. "Then... can I see you, too?"

Levi's eyes flutter. Silently, he does as you ask, unbuttoning his shirt slowly, though he omits to remove his undergarment.

Still, he's...

"Beautiful," you whisper, tentatively placing a hand over his chest bone.

Old scars criss-cross, forming paths of sinewy prowess. Feeling your probing, curious stare, the knot on Levi’s throat bobs. You place a kiss on his right cheek.

"You are beautiful, you know that?" you say, saccharine sweet.

Levi's lips curl. Pink graces his skin, flushing all the way to his neck. He folds his clothes to place them on the wardrobe nearby. It is only after he is back next to you, facial expression composed once more, that he speaks up, "What did I say? Corny."

The sound of Erwin’s laughter soothes your ears and beckons you both to stare at your second lover.

It is only then that you notice that Erwin is also entirely disrobed, save from his undergarment. His golden skin, a living tapestry of chiseled muscles and taut tendons, glows with a fierce vitality. A trail of golden hair that blazes a path from his navel downwards…

"So are you," you say to Erwin with a breathy tone, "beautiful."

"I'm glad you like what you see.” Erwin runs a hand to the back of his head, grinning sweetly. “You are, well—"

From across the room, Levi's gaze locks onto you.

"Divine," Erwin finishes.

You feel yourself grow hot, feeling their eyes admire your every curve, your every facet.

“Fuck, I can’t take this,” comes Levi’s voice, stomping back towards the bed. “You guys are nauseating to be around.”

You snort. “Then why are you red as a lobster?”

“Shut up.”

You and Erwin both burst into different fits of laughter, the feeling of which serves to soothe the nerves at pit of your stomach.

"What about you?" you ask Levi. "Don't you want him inside of you? Or the other way around?"

"No.” Levi's lips draw thin. “We're not doing that today."

"Why not?"

"I told you already, didn't I? Tonight's about you, Princess."

The way Levi says the word Princess has always meant something to you, something more than when that title indicates. Now, it elicits delicious frissons all across your skin. How things have changed...

Before you can say just as much, your peripheral catches a shift. Erwin has removed his underwear, and you turn.

Your throat instantly goes dry.

He’s… big.

Lacking these specific parts yourself, you lack a comparison. You've seen statues, of course, and caught accidental glances from salacious books left around by servant. Still, you're certain that Erwin is definitely above average.

No trifling matter, indeed.

“Hey, lie down,” Levi’s breath tickles your right ear. You can smell him—cotton and black tea, a scent that instantly grounds you. His eyes are heady and glazed when you look at him. “We’re gonna use your prayer oils to get you ready.”

"The oils?" You raise a brow. "Sure the Royal Sage would be thrilled to hear that."

"Yeah, well. What that old geezer doesn't know won't hurt him.'"

The oils do end up being put to good use. You watch as Erwin slides it along the contraceptive sheath he’s unravelled on his length, something he carries around ("You never know when... erm, the opportunity will arise." You laugh. Levi calls him a pervert, blushing from head to toe.). His broad hand strokes himself up and down, the sight of his muscles rendering him into some timeliness statue.

Meanwhile, Levi’s dipped two fingers into you, oil and all. The sensation of his fingers, cold and slender, makes you gasp again. Now that they're separated from the feeling of his tongue, you realize that his strokes are different from your own. Definitely addictive.

Levi’s baritone is like a cello on your skin. "He's big, you see. So you need to ease into it."

"That so?" you ask, lids twitching as you concentrate on the friction Levi is so generously bestowing onto you. Your hips twitch as he alternates between rubbing against your labia and slipping inside. “Does he… does he do that to you?”

"Mm. Takes forever to prep."

Before you can say a thing, Levi’s fingers curl, wedged deep inside of you. Your moan slips out before you can control it. “Gods.”

“Don’t call out to them,” Levi mutters. “They're not the ones touching you.”

“Hah, you call us corny? That was the cheesiest line in the books.”

In response, Levi slips in a third finger, making you whine. By the time you try to protest, Levi simply curls his fingers, increasing the speed of his ministrations, and you’re reduced to nonsensical words and breathless groans.

“Thought as much,” Levi’s satisfied tone bleeds in your ears.

You huff. Smug bastard.

“Look at you two,” Erwin says, tone oozing with tenderness. "What a sight."

When your gaze slides to Erwin once more, you feel your breath catch. He's still stroking himself, though his movements are more languid, slowed in urgency. His eyes are locked on you and Levi with an intensity that makes heat pool in your belly.

"What do you think?" Levi asks, his fingers still working inside you, stretching you with careful precision. The pool of warmth wracks through your body, all the way to your feet. "Think you're ready for him?"

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Levi withdraws his fingers, and you silently grieve the sudden emptiness.

You don't need to wait for too long, however, as Erwin soon approaches the bed, his powerful frame looming over you. The mattress dips beneath his weight as he positions himself between your legs. His hand cups your cheek, thumb tracing your lower lip.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Erwin asks you, voice feather-like.

“I am.”

“I’m going to go slow, but it might hurt in the beginning.”

“I'm ready.”

He's kneeling between your legs now, his broad shoulders taking up so much space you feel almost overwhelmed by his presence. His blue eyes, usually so commanding in public, now look at you with such tenderness you feel like your heart might burst.

"May I?" Erwin asks, ever the gentleman even as his arousal stands proud between his legs.

"Yes," you breathe, reaching for him. "Please."

Levi shifts beside you, his hand finding yours and squeezing. "Breathe," he reminds you, voice uncharacteristically soft. "And remember, we stop whenever you say."

Erwin positions himself at your entrance, the blunt head of him pressing against you. The oil makes everything slick, and you feel a momentary flutter of nervousness. But then Levi's lips are on your neck, and Erwin slowly enters you.

The stretch is immediate, a full sensation that edges on discomfort but never quite tips over. Erwin’s careful, painfully so, advancing the slightest then drawing back. You gasp at each new increment as he pushes further, feeling a kind of pressure that’s startling and strange yet strangely satisfying.

"You're doing so well," Erwin murmurs, pausing to let you adjust. His chest rises and falls with deep, controlled breaths.

Levi's thumb circles your palm, grounding you. "Halfway there," he whispers against your skin.

It doesn't hurt, not like you thought it might. There’s a moment where it pinches, but it’s brief. What you feel instead is an intense fullness—Erwin’s girth stretching you, filling you with more than you ever thought possible.

You turn towards your second companion, whose hard limb brushes against your hip as he kisses your collarbone.

"Levi, at least let me touch you," you mutter.

“Why?”

“I just really want to do that to you. Please.”

Levi shifts back, his eyes glinting. At first, you're certain he will refuse you, but finally, he acquiesces. His underwear comes off, and you watch him with parted lips.

Levi's cock is different from Erwin's. It's not as big, but still thick. And in your hands now, he’s so... hard.

With patience, Levi takes your hand and guides you along his length, showing you how to move up and down, how much pressure to apply. The first time you manage to do it right, following a thick vein with your thumb, his body twitches. With fascination, you watch him squeeze his eyes shut, his cheeks aflame. It makes you smile, makes you feel powerful.

“So, this was the secret all along,” you observe, movements going clumsy as you struggle to keep speech and action aligned. "All it took to shut you up was this?"

Levi groans. “You’re ruining the moment.”

Erwin laughs, the sound of it vibrating all the way to your core. Weird. “How are you feeling?”

With impatience now getting the better hold of you, you turn to him. “You can move now, ‘Win.”

"As you wish."

And indeed, Erwin does as his princess says. He finally begins to slowly drag his cock along your walls, pushing further in. You gasp, feeling yourself being stretched, feeling the way his length reaches in.

“It’s all about rhythm, you see,” Erwin explains as he pulls back, not enough to drag out completely, but enough to make you feel him. You whine, still adamant in maintaining a steady stroke on Levi, who shudders under your touch. “You want to start slow, then gradually build up. It takes a bit of practice, but”—he pushes back into you in one fluid motion, your body arches forward—“you catch on fast.”

Erwin's thrusts are addictive. This new position allowing him even deeper, even closer. Levi gasps as your hand matches Erwin's rhythm.

"Fuck," Levi says, sounding winded. "You’re so f-fucking... tight around him."

Another thrust and your eyes roll back. Levi grips your hand with his own, guiding you up and down his shaft, showing you how to increase the pressure. Before you can say a think, he seals his desire with a kiss.

Levi's tongue, Erwin's thrusts, are all you can feel. It feels incredible, feeling them like this, all the wet noises and groans and skin on skin. You feel triumphant surrounded by their bodies, knowing they are yours like you are theirs. The pleasure builds with each thrust, each stroke, until you think you might come apart at the seams.

“Look at you, Princess.” Levi’s words are ragged, his voice a blend of reverence and astonishment. “Taking him so well.” Your eyes flutter as Levi’s praise sends a rush of heat through you. "Fucking perfect."

"Gods."

As if caught in a delirium of his own, wanting to match his own vices, Levi places his free hand down, massaging your swollen clit. You gasp, scrabbling for desperation, the tight coil burning and bright.

"Levi," you whine. "S'too much, I can't, I-"

"You can take this." Levi's forehead is now pressed against yours, while he helps you stroke him, all the while revering your clit with his digits. "C'mon, Princess, I know you can."

And maybe it's Levi's needy tone hidden behind praises, maybe it's Erwin's unforgiving thrusts, but you want to believe them.

“There,” Erwin gasps, sweat glistening on his brow. Erwin has sped up, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. His muscles tense above you, veins pronounced against his skin. “Yes. Just like that—there you go, beloved. You're so perfect.”

“Ah—‘Win—Levi—I—”

"Let it go," Levi rasps.

And then, you shudder around Erwin, the heat of your climax making you go boneless. Levi’s name tumbles from your lips as his head dips against your shoulder, your joined hands still working him, and when you hear him let out a delicate, lovely moan, you realize he’s the first to come undone.

But then, with Erwin still moving inside of you, that wave pleasure crashes over you, and you feel your walls clamp down on him as you find your release again. Erwin thrusts into you one last time, breath ragged, and you feel the warmth of his own desire as he spills into you—his entire body shuddering beneath him.

You’re barely lucid, but you feel Levi collapsing on your right side, Erwin eventually doing the same on your left. You think you hear their voices, but everything is too bright and too blurry simultaneously, too many stars of white and gold dancing around you. Are you lucid right now?

When you finally blink your way back to reality, you find them on your bed, tending to you.

Levi wipes your forehead with a damp cloth while Erwin cleans your thighs.

"Drink this," Levi instructs, holding out a wooden cup.

You oblige, though not before catching another kiss from him. Levi seems surprised, but kisses you back, one hand on your waist. When you turn towards Erwin, there's fondness in his gaze as he slides his tongue in your mouth, pressing a comforting touch on Levi's neck. Together, the three of you say huddled together, up until Levi breaks apart and forces you to drink the water, followed by his orders to wash and get ready for bed.

When all is said and done, you find yourself in bed with them. The aftermath of your lovemaking has long since subsided, and your body aches from the pleasure and new sensation you just experienced. You're in the middle of them, all tangled limbs and sheet, and it is glorious. They're glowing from the afterglow, and you suspect that you are as well. The only light comes from a candle lit next to Erwin's side, but it is enough to dust them in specks of gold that makes you feel like you're in a dream.

"Is this what dying feels like?" you ask in the quiet of the night.

"More like living," Erwin smiles, brushing his hand through your hair. His touch is soft like butter. "How are you, beloved?"

"Perfect."

Levi clicks his tongue. "Too tired to be clever, I see."

You jab his side with an elbow, but it's without any real force. He raises a brow, the corners of his mouth twitching.

Erwin chuckles. "Looks like we did a good job, Levi."

"Yeah," Levi agrees, his tone losing its edge. He pressing himself in the pillow next to you. "Guess we did.”

As Erwin brushes safety into your scalp and you hug Levi from behind, curiosity gets the better of you.

"Are you all going to manage to fall asleep with me?"

"Obviously not," Levi mutters. "You're practically choking me here."

"Pff." You roll your eyes, but soften your grip all the same.

Levi's hand snakes to grip yours, pulling you back. "Who said you were allowed to stop?"

You snort, burying yourself into his back. "You're impossible."

Behind you, Erwin chuckles, but his soft massage on your scalp doesn't stop. Blindly, you reach for the hand that's free, pulling him closer so that it encapsulates both you and Levi. You happily sigh, basked in their scents, in their warmth.

"I wish we'd done this sooner," you confess, not knowing if you're overstepping with your words.

"So do we, beloved," Erwin says.

"Is it selfish that I never want this to end?"

For a moment, neither of them say anything. There's a shift in movements, but neither of them move positions.

"It's always been the three of us, hasn't it?" Erwin points out. "Ever since we were all young, dreaming and looking at the sun."

"Yeah."

"I can't speak on Levi's behalf but... when it comes to you and him, I for one want to be selfish."

The confession makes your heart race. Through it all, Levi is strikingly silent. Nervous he doesn't feel the same, you shift, heart thudding in the middle of your chest.

"Levi, you're not cross with me? If that's not how you feel, I don't want-"

"No." Levi cuts off. "What Erwin said is... right. Just... just didn't know to say it."

"Are you sure?"

There's another silence, where you feel the steady rise and fall of their chest against your body. You wait.

"We're yours, Princess," Levi says at last. Strikingly quiet. "Always."

Erwin squeezes Levi's hand. "Always."

"Always..." you sigh, eyes fluttering shut, "Sounds like a tale for the ages."

Erwin laughs, pressing a kiss to your back of your head. "Maybe it will be. Be sure to tell us how it should go."

And with that, Erwin shifts back, blowing out the last candle.

That night, you sleep soundly. Entangled in the warmth and protection of their bodies, you feel safe. You feel loved. You feel free.

It’s a wonderful place to be.

“Must you really go?”

With a pout on your face, you watch as Erwin and Levi gets dressed. Morning is in full bloom by now, and you can hear the sounds of the castle that signals servants are out and about. Soon, the rest of the royals and nobles will follow. Despite this, you sit up with no real urgency, clutching the sheets of your bed to your chest.

The dewy light filters into your chambers, painting the walls in soft, golden hues. For a moment, you simply watch as your guards move with quiet efficiency, Erwin fastening his cufflinks, Levi buckling his belt.

“We shouldn’t have stayed in the first place,” Levi quips. “If anyone noticed we were missing from our stations, it'd be trouble.”

“Levi’s right, beloved," Erwin concurs, "we don’t want to draw unwanted attention.”

“I understand that, but…” You frown. "But couldn't you simply say I called you in for something? I don't want to see you go."

“Hey.” By now, Levi’s walked to you, looking at you. “Don’t overthink things. We meant what we said last night; we're not going anywhere. We just need to keep up appearances."

You look down, looking dejected.

"Princess." Erwin calls out to you. You look up; he's walked up to you as well and all you can see are his beautiful eyes. Cerulean blue. "What you said to your father, about ruling alone, being the Queen of the Realm..."

A knot forms in the middle of your chest.

"If that is what you wish, we will do everything in our power to make it a reality."

"But what about you?"

Levi squeezes your hand.

“We’re your sworn swords, Princess," Levi says. "We’ll be there by your side, now and forever."

You smile, fondness prickling beneath your skin. If history might have anything to say about the woman you become, you know you might not be looked at in the kindest light. Let them do as they please; you'd set your own path and modernize the monarchy once and for all.

"I have decided on the first words of our joined story, by the way." Your two knights look back at you, gleaming. You make your way to stand close to them, kissing their cheeks before stepping back. "Once upon a time, three friends fell in love."

Levi scowls at your platitudes, muttering a bashful, "Corny," while Erwin just grins. "I like the sound of that," he says, adding his own twist to it, "The Once and Future Queen and Her Two Knights, a Tale for the Ages."

You smile sweetly. "Seems we have our title."

They both give their own versions of a smile, more valuable than all the gold in the world.

As they exit the confines of your bedroom that day, you don't tell them the ending to your story—the ending you're determined to bring to life.

And the three of them lived happily ever after.

I hope you enjoyed this little piece of saccharine indulgence. What do you all think happens next - does our trio get their happily ever after? Do they flee? Does our princess modernize the realm or abolish monarchy? I'd love to hear your theories in the comments.

Thanks for reading <3

— Masterlist / Join my taglist / Fic Playlist

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etherealeowyn · 1 day ago

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Making Up for Lost Time - Chapter 1

Bucky Barnes x Fem Reader

Word Count: 1,322

When Steve called Y/n with the news that Bucky was alive and no longer consumed by the persona of the Winter Soldier, she didn't hesitate to go and meet up with him. Especially because it had been decades since she had last seen her boyfriend, and she knew he would need all the comfort in the world after the trauma he endured at the hands of Hydra.

Ch. 1 - Ch. 2 (coming soon)

“I found him, Y/n, and he’s not just the Winter Soldier anymore. I could tell that Bucky is back in control,” Steve said into the phone, a pang of excitement laced within his words.

“Steve, please tell me you’re not joking,” Y/n replied, feeling her throat tighten up from the news.

“I promise, I wouldn’t ever joke with you about this. I know how much you love him,” he responded, sounding dead serious.

“Okay, well send me your location, I’ll be there as soon as I can,” the woman said, hanging up her phone and running as quickly as she could through the hotel with her car keys in hand.

The empty industrial facility where both Steve and Sam were keeping an eye on Bucky wasn’t far away, and since Y/n was speeding way faster than she probably should have, it didn’t take long to get there. She pulled her car inside, making sure there was no one following her who could threaten the reunion that would happen shortly.

“Steve? Sam?” Y/n asked, her voice slightly echoing through the empty building.

“Over here,” Steve’s voice sounded, and she immediately ran in his direction.

Y/n paused in her tracks when she saw Bucky sitting there on the ground, his metal arm clamped down by some sort of machinery to prevent him from escaping again.

Her hand immediately shot up to her mouth, a mixture of both joy and sadness washing over her. It had been decades since she had seen him in person, the last time being when he fell from the train all those years ago, and she had partially come to terms with the fact that she’d never see him again.

Especially since when she woke up from the ice with Steve decades later, she figured that even if he had managed to survive the fall, which was completely and utterly unlikely, he would’ve already died from old age.

When Steve had sworn to her that he had seen Bucky, she didn’t think he was a liar, but Y/n thought he was seeing things. I mean, how could it even be possible?

But then again, if she could have super serum and survive almost 70 years under ice, anything was possible.

“He’s okay, well physically he’s okay, mentally it’s a different story, but I figured you could help him through everything right now,” Steve spoke, placing one of his hands gently on the woman’s shoulder, snapping her from the hundreds of different thoughts that were circling in her mind.

“Okay, and thank you for saving him,” Y/n responded, smiling softly at him as she tried to fight back the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

He nodded at the woman in response, and slowly her feet began to carry her towards the man.

The last thing Y/n wanted to do was startle Bucky, so she moved carefully, not wanting to appear in any way, shape, or form as a threat.

Her fingers timidly reached out towards his back, and she began to rub it very tenderly, taking note of how much more muscle he had gained since the last time she had felt him like this. It broke her heart to think about what he had gone through during the time they were apart, and though Steve explained some things to her, he didn’t tell her everything. Not because she couldn’t handle it, but because he didn’t feel as if it did any good for her to know all the details about his time as the Winter Soldier.

Gasping, Bucky jumped back, his head immediately swiveling to look at his metal arm that was being held in place. His brows furrowed in confusion as he felt the sensation of someone’s hand on him, and though Y/n knew she probably should separate herself from the man as he woke up, she didn’t. Mostly because she didn’t want Bucky to think that she feared him.

He turned his head to the side, and his blue eyes dramatically widened as he scanned every inch of the woman’s face. Blinking a couple of times slowly, he couldn’t help but feel as if he was amid some cruel dream, seeing the woman that he always yearned for but could never have.

“Y/n?” he asked, cocking his head to the side and reaching out his hand towards the woman, who didn’t shy away from his hand carefully cupping her face. “This can’t be real,” he followed up, his voice cracking as he pulled his hand away and shut his eyes tightly, trying to escape the sick joke.

“Bucky, it’s me, I swear,” Y/n replied, tears welling in her eyes, as she desperately pleaded to him, her heart breaking as she watched him fall apart. “Please just look at me, I'm real and this is all real, you’re going to be okay.”

Following her directions, his eyes opened once again, this time less wide, but with even more sadness behind them.

Y/n dropped to the floor and wrapped her arms around the man as tightly as she could, borderline scared that if she were to let go, he’d be gone again. Bucky’s free arm followed suit, and he held on to her tightly, burying his head in the crook of the woman’s neck. Sobs wracked his body, and the sensation was something he hadn’t felt in a long time, because for once he was crying tears of joy.

“Shh, it’s okay, my love, it’s okay,” Y/n softly spoke, placing tender kisses on the top of his head, trying to do everything in her power to help the man calm down. “I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.”

Her hand combed through his hair, tucking it behind his ear so it didn’t get stuck to the hot trail of tears that were running down his face and onto her shirt. It didn’t bother her a bit, though, because it was just a physical reminder that he was, in fact, real, and everything going on was happening.

It took about another ten minutes of consoling him before he finally lifted his head from the crook of her neck, and the pads of Y/n’s thumbs immediately began wiping the remaining tears off his face.

“I-I never thought I’d see you again,” Bucky spoke, his voice heavy and mildly raspy. “But here you are, even more beautiful than the day I lost you.”

“Oh, Bucky, I love you so much,” Y/n replied, this time letting some tears fall down her face. “I never thought I’d see you again either, when Steve told me that you were still alive, both of us have spent every single day trying to find you and bring you home.”

“I love you too, doll, more than anything in this world,” Bucky responded with a small smile on his lips, contrasting the remnants of the sadness that had recently taken over him. “Now, would you please help me get out of this thing so we could get out of here?”

“Of course,” she said, standing up and untightening the machine that had his metal arm secured.

The second he was free, Y/n helped him stand up, grabbing his arm and draping it around her shoulder so she could better support his weight as she got him to the car, where Steve and Sam were waiting.

Even though she wished that they could return to the States and heal together, Y/n knew there was still some fighting in Europe that had to be done. She didn’t have to tell Bucky this, though, because it was clear to him what he had to do, but part of him was happy to fight, not because he wanted to be a part of the violence, but because he finally was able to fight for a worthy cause. Plus, the thought of it was much more bearable knowing that Y/n would be right there by his side the entire time.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x you #marvel x reader #marvel fanfic

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anyarose011 · 19 hours ago

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Shame Was on the Other Side

->Bucky Barnes X Single Mom!reader

Summary: You were only meant to teach a children's ballet class in Manhattan for one day. Out of all the days, it had to be the one where a dark entity loomed over the city, and you had no idea where your boyfriend was.

Part 1 of 2 (Masterlist)

Warning: References to past trauma, but nothing too explicit (yet), ANGST, and Spoilers for Thunderbolts*

Saw Thunderbolts* a few days ago, and I can confidently say I should've seen it yesterday (shit hit the fan for me lmao). Anywho, I got an idea from it, and wanted to give more of a realistic depiction of what would happen if a lot of people relived their worst traumas (more of that will come later, but just wanted to start with some foreplay as one might say).

Word Count: 3.9k

youtube

“I know you girls can hold it longer.” You encouraged from the front of the room, leaning against the large mirror on the wall.

Nine little girls from ages ten to twelve, including your now ten-year-old Clementine, balanced on one foot as they held their arms in first position. It was almost funny watching nine little ballet shoes on the ground trying to stand as tall as they could under the weight of children wearing an array of colored leotards and skirts.

The facial expressions didn’t help either; most of them either scowling or sucking their lips in and staring at a single spot on the pale blue wall to focus. Clem, of course, was glaring out the three windows as if they were her worst enemies.

“Okay,” you said after the piano music on your phone stopped. “and relax.”

A chorus of groans bounced off the plastered walls, the girls either hanging off the barres or hunching over themselves.

“Now none of that!” You laugh. “Prima ballerinas don’t whine.”

“You’re the only one in here!” Little Hannah sassed.

You shook your head. “I almost was. Alright, it’s 4:30 now. Whoever has pointe, get your shoes on and we’ll wait for the older girls to get in. Thank you, ladies.”

You curtsy and they copied. Four of them left excitedly, either onto their next dance lesson or out to their parents. The rest of the girls went to the cubbies in the corner, drinking water and putting on their shoes. As a larger group of teenage girls walked in, you took a seat by your daughter, who was taking off her ballet shoes and putting on her Jazz ones.

“How was school?” You asked, taking your pointe shoes out of your bag.

She shrugged. “Okay.”

“Just okay?”

“A girl said I laugh too loud.” She whispered.

You swore kids were becoming meaner these days. Even in your classes in Brooklyn you saw the dramatic change since the Blip. You’d taught before then, and they all seemed kinder; more willing to talk. Yet, after a collective, traumatic moment, they were never the same.

“Would you ever want to be her?” You questioned, trying to eliminate your cynicism.

She sighed. “No.”

You kissed her head. “I know words hurt, but her opinion shouldn’t matter if you would never want to crawl into her skin and walk around in it.”

She scrunched her nose. “Huh?”

“I’ll tell you more at home. Now go to Jazz.”

Clementine smiled, stood up, taking her bag and leaving; that was, before turning over her heel. “Did Bucky call?”

Your lips formed a tight smile, shaking your head. “Not yet, but I’ll come find you when he does.”

Her own grin fell. “He usually does by now.”

“You know him,” you forced a laugh. “always busy.”

She hummed but then left the room. Letting out a long sigh, you pursed your lips. Bucky moved to DC almost two months ago, and you didn’t leave…on the best of terms. You managed to apologize(ish) to each other right before he left, but you weren’t kidding yourself, that was mainly for Clem’s sake.

And you hated how smart she was; she knew something was going on. If anything, the only reason she probably didn’t think you both were breaking up was because Bucky left Alpine with both of you when he left.

Still, you both wanted to make this work. You had been dating him for a year now, and every day you had to remind yourself why you loved him.

You did say that word; both of you did. So, it was real.

And you were willing to try; you’d spoken to him a week ago, and yes, you and Clem were going to come out to DC and-.

Your phone vibrated beside you.

Looking down, you saw Bucky’s name and an embarrassing photo Clem took of him while he was sleeping, show up on your screen.

You grinned, picking it up and turning to the girls in the room. “Start stretching.”

“Is your boyfriend calling?” Hannah teased, and all the girls, yes even the eighteen-year-old seniors, started ‘ooo’ing.

“Another word, and we’re doing nothing but bourrées across the floor for half an hour.”

When you left, you shut the door on a bunch of giggling girls. The company you worked for grew substantially within the year, letting them buy a location in Manhattan. You usually taught at the one in Brooklyn, but the ballet teacher called in sick, and you had to fill in.

It was a hassle, and the studio was much smaller than the one in Brooklyn; as in, there were only three rooms, and thus, three teachers to accommodate for the forty students. Yet, there was something sweet about being in crowded rooms filled with a combined passion but also a playful attitude towards dance.

True, you were essentially the dinosaur and eldest there; the other two teachers either starting college or just getting out of it. Still, it wasn’t as hard to lead on the short day that you were there.

Squeezing past little girls and boys on their way to class, you sat on one of the benches in the waiting room, answering the call.

“How are you, Aragorn?”

You told him to grow out his hair last summer, and he did. Thus, resulting in him looking like a Dollar Tree Viggo Mortenson from Lord of the Rings. Although, the beauty on his face stayed the same.

“Where are you?” His voice sounded seemingly neutral, but you knew him so well; he was rattled.

“Working?” You answered, although it sounded more like a question. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He sighed.

You rose your brows. “Are you still with that random Russian guy you were driving with yesterday?”

“Where are you?”

Now it was getting weird. “I’m working, I told you-.”

“-What’s the address?”

“What’s going on?”

He said your name, agitated. “What’s the address?”

Now it was getting scary. You hissed, trying to keep your voice down. “No, you tell me what the hell is going on right now.”

A pause followed, but it didn’t last for long. His breath shuttered. “You and Clem need to leave wherever you are.”

You felt your soul drop into your stomach and form pit. “What?”

“Honey,” he begged. “tell me where you are and I’ll come get you.”

“Bucky-.”

“-It’s Valentina.” He said, and you felt the air leave your lungs. “We…she’s worse than we thought, and I-I don’t know if she will but I’m not taking any chances. I need you and Clem safe and-.”

He stopped talking. At first, you thought it was because he couldn’t even speak aloud what he assumes would happen to you, but then the silence grew longer.

“Bucky?” You asked again, your voice once firm now meek.

Nothing.

“James.” You tried to speak sternly.

“Stay where you are.” Broke through the tension. “I love you.”

He hung up.

You didn’t pull the phone away from your ear right away. A part of you hoped he’d call back, even if there was nothing but his own breathing on the other end.

A tightness began to constrict your chest; one so horrible you wanted to scream, but one also so horrible you couldn’t. Standing on shaky legs, you looked around. Of course, no one else reacted the way you were at that moment. They hadn’t heard the cryptid call.

You looked into the blue room, where all the older girls were stretching and warming up, laughing at something someone said. Then, you watched as one of them took their leg off the barre and moved to stand closer to the window. She turned over her shoulder, bidding the other girls to come over, and they followed.

Pushing the door open, you entered the room. Some of the girls looked over at you but ultimately turned back to the window when you said nothing. Pushing yourself forward, your jaw dropped at what they saw.

Several blocks down, where the old Avenger’s Tower stood, a black figure suspended in the air.

“What’s that?” One of the high schoolers asked, fear trembling in her voice.

“Is it…a new Avenger?” A younger girl replied.

You couldn’t say anything. That tightness made its way into your stomach, and it began to ache. Your mind was telling you to go, and so you listened. Leaving on shaking legs, you pushed your way into the green room next door, where the Jazz group of smaller children also stared out the window.

You found Clementine among the crowd and took her hand.

“What’s happening?” She tried not to trip over her own feet as you pulled her out of the room.

“I don’t know.” And you didn’t; all you knew was that neither of you were safe.

You rushed through the waiting room, and just as you were at the door leading to the stairwell, a sharp cry rang out.

“Get away from the windows!” One of the teachers yelled, and a few screams were heard before silence soon followed.

It hadn’t even registered with you. Shadows encased every wall around you, and all you could do was fall to the floor, shielding your little girl with your entire body before the darkness forced you into its embrace.

It didn’t feel like it had been two hours since…since….

Since….

The water from the kitchen sink scorched your skin as you stared at the blank wall in front of you. It was around six when you’d finally got back to your Brooklyn apartment. Clementine, exhausted from the whole day, took Alpine and went to her room as soon as you got home. You assumed she was sleeping.

You hadn’t changed out of your leotard or skirt and tights. You practically collapsed on the couch and stared at the blank tv in front of you for twenty minutes before then deciding to do the dishes you left in the sink that morning.

You’d only got one done and then stared at the wall in front of you, letting the hot water run down your hands.

Everything seemed too much as soon as you…as soon as you’d awoken from…

The sound of everyone’s voices as you walked down the streets were too loud, the lights when you entered your apartment were too bright...Your body was sore from…from…

A knock on the door snapped you back to reality and you jumped. Shutting off the sink, you froze as you stood in the kitchen. Another knock soon followed, as well as the sound of your name.

“Honey, it’s me.”

You sped to the door and didn’t bother looking through the peephole. Unlatching and unlocking it, you threw the door open. There, looking like absolute shit, covered in sweat with a few scrapes along with face, your Bucky.

He tossed his arms around you before you could, pressing his face into your neck. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, nails sinking into his shirt to make sure he was real. You wanted to cry, God knows you wanted to cry until your eyes hurt and all you could feel was him.

Bucky pulled away just enough to look at you, but his breath still lingered on your skin.

“Are you okay? Are you alright?”

“I…” you couldn’t find the words. “Are you?”

“I asked you.”

You nodded. “Uh huh.”

“Why didn’t you pick up?” He kissed your head. “I called you so many times.”

“My…my phone died.”

He shook his head, saying your name before a cacophony of voices was heard at the end of the hall. You clung to him.

“It’s okay,” he soothed. “I know them.”

“You made new friends?” You attempted humor.

Apparently, it worked because he cracked a grin. “Coworkers mostly but maybe. Did you hear the news?”

“No?”

“New Avengers.” He pursed his lips. “Valentina assigned us. It’s a long story.”

“Oh, Valentina as in the one you thought was going to come kill me and Clem?” You couldn’t help it.

“I didn’t want to take any chances, I’m sorry.” He looked around your apartment. “Where is she anyway?”

“Sleeping with Alpine in her room.” You sighed. “It’s been a long day.”

He kissed your cheek. “I get it. I’ll tell them to go and-.”

“-No.” You didn’t know why you were saying it, but you did. “You invited them. I’ll make something for dinner.”

Bucky gave you a look. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “You guys must be exhausted. As long as they don’t mind SpaghettiOs, Kraft Mac and Cheese, and Pizza Rolls.”

“They’ll be happy with anything.” He kissed your lips, finally. “Thank you, so much, you’re an angel.”

You hummed, still smiling. “You wouldn’t have called me that a few months ago.”

Call it a trauma response, call it you being a bitch, you were flying off the mouth that day.

He swallowed, hands falling to yours and squeezing them. “I’ll only keep them here for dinner, and then they’re gone. We’ll talk after, okay?”

You nodded. “Just tell them to keep it down when they’re coming in.”

He gave you another kiss on the cheek before leaving. He kissed you in the few minutes you saw each other again than the last week before he left for DC.

The sudden thought brought tears to your eyes, and you berated yourself for that almost making you cry that day. Still, once you took a deep breath, threw on a spare sweatshirt, and began to get out packaged dinner floor, the sound of hushed voices soon entered your apartment.

There were six people in your living room, all covered in an array of soot, dust, blood, sweat, and tears. You only recognized two; Bucky and John Walker. Even then, the latter you knew of.

The tallest of them, wearing a red suit with a white star on his chest, approached you with a smile on his face. He took your hand, shaking it and stage whispering.

“Thank you so much for your hospitality, Ms. Bucky Barnes’ girlfriend! We appreciate it and will be respectful guests. I too am a father and understand-.”

The woman with blonde hair shoved him. “Alright, that’s enough. Thank you very much.” She said your name.

You chuckled. “Of course, it’s the least I could do.”

Assessing everyone else, you saw another woman with brown hair and what looked like to be a spacesuit immediately take her place on the couch. The only other one who you hadn’t recognized was a man whose hair began to curl at his neck and wore an oversized blue sweatshirt. He seemed different from the others; quiet in a sense of not knowing what to say instead of for intimidation.

“Okay, names.” You smiled. “I don’t know any of you.”

And so, thus began the circle of names and getting to know who your boyfriend’s new coworkers/friends were. Alexei (the Red Guardian) Ava (Ghost), Yelena (an ex-Widow), John Walker (ex-Captain America), and Bob (just Bob, apparently…).

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you. I’ll make something.” You threw on another smile and immediately turned back to the attached kitchen, not really knowing what else to do or say.

Luckily, as you heard everyone else plop themselves down to sit (whether it was on the couch, at the small dining room table, or even on the floor), you also heard Yelena ask.

“Bucky said you were a ballerina?”

“Was.” You looked over your shoulder as you got a pot out from a cabinet. “I teach kids now.”

“Oh my god,” Bob stood up from the floor, reaching for a can of SpaghettiOs. “I haven’t had these in years!”

You grinned. “I’ll make that one first then.”

John spoke up. “Where do you teach?”

“A friend’s dance studio in Brooklyn, mostly.”

“Barnes said you were in Manhattan when…”

A silence hung in the air; one you didn’t waste time to fill.

“Yeah, I heard about that.” You opened a drawer and took out the can opener. “I was on the subway back to here when it happened.”

Even without looking, you could feel Bucky’s steely gaze on you. Of course, even if it weren’t for you already on edge attitude, the timeline didn’t make sense; how could you have gone to the subway station in the same time you hung up and then the darkness came for you? You felt as if the rest of them could practically smell your lie. Yet, they said nothing about it.

“What about the rest of you?” You deflected, then nodded at Bucky. “If this one’s sticking around, then maybe it’s best I know you.”

They surprisingly laughed. Conversation from then on was easy; someone would talk, and the others would interrupt. At least the extroverts would; those being John, Yelena, and Alexei. Sometimes Ava would jump in, but only ever to tease John with Yelena. The ones who barely said anything unless spoken to were Bob and Bucky.

Bucky you were used to; if anything, you missed his quietness. He’d let you talk on and on about anything, and you never once thought he tuned you out. Even then, in your crowded living room, as someone told a long, drawn-out story (usually Alexei), he’d make eye contact with you across the room as you cooked. All he’d do was give you that same smile you fell in love with.

Bob was different. He looked around your apartment both with a level of genuine interest, but also as if he were waiting for something bad to happen. Unless someone (usually Yelena) talked to him, the only time he spoke up was to remind everyone that there was someone sleeping in another room.

He was sweet.

It was the first time when he made a joke you were carrying two bowls of newly made soup, that as you were laughing, you bumped your side into the corner of the counter.

Now on a normal day, you would’ve stumbled over your feet and cursed like you were being paid by the word; but this was one of the worst days of your life, and you were having conflicting emotions about your boyfriend.

So, naturally, the bowls fell from your hands, and you collapsed onto the floor.

It was Yelena and Bucky who immediately rushed to you.

“Oh god, are you okay?” Yelena asked, brushing your hair out of your face.

The only thing that escaped your lips were a few sobs, the pain beginning to fester from the old bruises you gained earlier that day. Bucky kneeled in front of you, rubbing your shoulders.

“Can you stand?”

You shook your head but tried anyway, putting all of your weight onto him. Bucky helped you stand, and you leaned on the counter, holding your side with one hand, and the other wiping the oncoming tears.

“I’m sorry.” you sniffled.

Immediately, everyone reassured you that there was nothing wrong. Still, even with the tightness in your throat threatening to spill over, you said.

“I…I was in the city when it happened. I-I don’t know what I saw, I don’t know what Clem saw, she-she hasn’t even talked to me about it-.”

“-How’d you hurt your side?” Bucky gently asked.

You dropped your gaze; the anger from everything that day and in past simmering within you.

“It was just a bad day.”

“How?” He said your name.

Your nostrils flared, and you whispered. “You wanna do this right now? In front of everyone?”

“Okay.” It was John who stood up from the couch. “I think we should be going.”

You shook your head. “No-.”

“-It’s alright.” Alexei intervened. “It’s been a long day, there’s many many family matters to settle, we’ll leave you two alone, eh? I’d love to have a proper dinner whenever. It doesn’t have to be your place, mine is-.”

“-Thank you,” Yelena said your name, smiling and leading Alexei away. The rest of them followed, uttering similar goodbyes. All accept one.

“I’m sorry.”

You furrowed your brow at Bob’s words. It should have been nothing; to anyone else, it was nothing. But not to you. Not at that moment.

“What?” You brushed Bucky away and limped after them into the hallway. “Why are you sorry?”

They all stopped in the hall, Bob at the back. The rest turned to you upon your words, but he didn’t. It was only after a beat of silence that he did.

“I…” he paused. “I’m sorry you got hurt just now-.”

“-No.” You interrupted, approaching him. “No not even that, what do you have to be sorry for? You’re the only one who remembered I had a kid in another room and have been telling everyone to quiet down, what do you have to be sorry for?”

“Honey.” Bucky took your hand, speaking into your hair.

You didn’t even look at him when you dropped his hand; only kept your eyes on Bob. “Well?”

He swallowed thickly, almost as if he was about to cry just from your gaze alone. He opened his mouth. “I was the one-.”

“-Bob.” Yelena shook her head, along with everyone else.

“No, no,” he said before looking back at you. “I was the one to cause all of this. I-I sent everyone in Manhattan down a void of-of darkness, despair. I don’t remember doing it, but I did…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you and your daughter had to see it.”

You stopped listening after ‘I was the one to cause all of this’. Well, you still did, but just barely; it felt like you were underwater. All you could do in that hallway was stare.

Then, just as the darkness had sunk into your mind, the realization did into your soul. Your heart fell along with your eyes, and your mouth moved but no sound (not even a cry) came out.

When terror settled into your heart, rage quickly followed, and it marked your face. Still, you did not move towards him despite how your shoulders rose and fell with your breathing.

“Mama?”

The familiar, sweet call of your daughter broke through to you.

Snapping your gaze back into your apartment, you saw your daughter stand before you, holding Alpine. Her own eyes were red, and you never saw her so tired.

“Why are you crying?” Her voice quivered.

You brought your hand to your face and felt the tears upon your cheeks. You hadn’t even noticed. If the shame of the entire day hadn’t pulled you under, it was that moment as you cried in front of strangers and your own daughter.

It didn’t feel like you were in your own body as you walked back into your apartment, pushing your daughter behind you and shutting the door just enough for you to keep your head out in the hall.

“It’s not what I saw that made today so horrible,” you stated. “it’s everything that happened after.”

With that, the door shut and was locked. Incessant knocking and the muffled sound of you and your daughter’s name by Bucky (you thought you heard other voices, but the pounding in your head did not help) followed. It wasn’t the first time that day where you no longer had the ability to care.

You dragged yourself into your daughter’s room and collapsed onto her bed. Clementine soon followed, placing Alpine on the pillow next to you. As the cat rubbed his face against yours, Clem cuddled into your side. She kissed your cheek.

“I love you, Mama.”

The damn fully broke and you enveloped her in your arms once more, weeping.

#marvel #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes imagine #thunderbolts #the avengers #bob reynolds #yelena belova #john walker #alexei shostakov #ava starr #Youtube

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dailyreverie · 3 days ago

Note

What about “oops-I-thought-you-were-joking” kiss that they immediately want to do again on purpose. with Poe? 👀

OMG Lorena hi!!!! Girl I missed you it made my day to see your request and know you are still here 🫶 Here's a cute little Poe thing, I hope you like it!

Under the milky twilight

Pairing: Poe Dameron x reader

“oops-I-thought-you-were-joking” kiss that they immediately want to do again on purpose.

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: Swearing right at the start, mentions of death (like super light mentions its barely there).

“Holy fucking- Poe what the FUCK?!” You can’t help but curse, forgetting your comm is on for everyone to hear, because what Poe just did to get rid of those fighters was completely and utterly insane.

His laughter reaches your ears as the rest of the pilots who witness that both cheer and scream at him as well. “Whoever owes me money for doing that, I’ll take it when we land.” Poe says as if it were nothing, as if whatever the hell that was didn’t make your heart leap out of your chest at least 10 times. “And I believe, Captain,” He calls over to you, his ship appearing next to yours in that moment. And you can’t quite see his face too clearly, but you can hear the smirk in his voice: “I believe we have a debt to settle, too.”

That cocky flyboy.

Surely, you thought, he had forgotten about that stupid bet you had made months ago, when he explained over breakfast with condiments and napkins the move he had in mind. You’re gonna get killed, Snap had said back then, and that’s when everyone started adding money to that. He can pull it off, you stated instead, maybe just for your own peace of mind, because even if it was his worst idea up to date, the thought of Snap’s version being the one coming true was too much to even think about.

“I will pull it off, thank you.” He agreed with you. “And that day, after I collect everyone’s money, will be the day I kiss you.” You rolled your eyes but smiled nonetheless, hoping the heat coming up your neck wouldn’t make its way to your face.

It’s always a joke with Poe, his attraction to you. Always asking you out in the worst possible moment, always saying he’ll kiss you and date you as part of some stupid joke he’s trying to make. And maybe that’s just you trying to cope with the obvious and all-consuming feelings you have for him, but you let him have it, let him joke without ever saying much. Up until then.

“Sure,” His eyes go as big as his head when you agree to his terms. “If you pull it off, you can kiss me.”

“Deal.” He seals it with a wink and, if your eyes were not failing you, a beautiful shade of pink on the tips of his ears.

Adrenaline buzzes around the tarmac when you land, the squad rushing to hug and celebrate with each other as the sun sets behind the Base. You take that moment, when everyone is running around with smiles and joy, to take off your helmet and take a deep breath, looking around at the happiness that somehow made its way to this forgotten side of the galaxy.

You spot Poe striding towards you from where he landed, and when he’s close enough for you to see his eyes, his smile becomes wider. “I pulled it off.” His arms spread wide in celebration.

“Barely,” You try to argue, somehow reprimand him for scaring you like that, but the smile on your face betrays you.

“But I did it,” Poe states back. “And I’m also about to be a few credits richer.”

You laugh together, a bit incredulously, if you have to be honest, still without quite knowing how he made it. And maybe it’s the rush of everything that just happened, but seeing him standing in front of you -and not as a junk of metal flying around in space as he almost was- makes a rush of electricity run through your veins. “So you came to collect your prize, or what?”

“My prize?” His eyebrow shuts up along with a corner of his lips. “Our little agreement?” He takes a step closer to you, close enough for you to be able to smell his lotion, but there’s that look in his eyes that tells you that this is just another part of that teasing he does, that shine in his pupils that comes with the punchline of a joke.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you owe me a kiss.” You only say that because you are sure he won’t do it. He’ll hug you as he always does when you’re back from the skies and leave with the promise to see you during your next meal.

But he doesn’t turn around. Something shifts then, on the way his eyes travel around your face, on the air that keeps pushing him closer and closer to you. In that second, it hits you that maybe, all this time, Poe always meant what he was saying.

He grabs your face, not thinking about it twice as he does it. His hands are firm, thumbs just slightly caressing your cheeks, and before you can ask what he’s doing, his lips find yours and linger there, pressing against yours, moving to fit perfectly against yours, just enough to make you see stars and weaken your knees; and it is not a joke, stars, this doesn’t feel like a joke at all. It’s a real kiss, one that’s not part of some elaborate prank he’s pulling on you.

It doesn’t last long, and oh maker why didn’t it last longer? But then, in a fraction of a second, the reality of the situation hits you.

Poe kissed you.

That was not supposed to happen, but Poe kissed you, and the realization of it all must be showing on your face because when you look at Poe again, you can see the surprise on his face too. “Oh” is all he says.

“I thought- I thought you were joking.” Your voice doesn’t sound like it always does. It shakes and hesitates around words you don’t even mean, because for all you care - and for all you knew just 5 five seconds ago - you were not supposed to kiss Poe. Not today, and not ever.

You stare at each other, the silence foreign between you.

“I wasn’t.” His voice is airy as he speaks, as if he had spoken while letting out all his troubled thoughts. The sounds of far-away crickets and ships fill the silence, but in his eyes, you find a thousand words that seem to shout in your head. “I wasn’t joking. I never was. I wasn’t when I made that dumb bet, and I definitely wasn’t joking when I kissed you,” he smirks that beautifully cocky way of his when he notices the tiniest smile making way to your face, “and I’m not joking when I say I would do it again-”

Your hands grab a fist of his pilot suit as you close the distance, barely letting him finish speaking when you kiss him, melting your body against his when his hands rest on your neck to keep you as close to him as he needs you, letting his lips find the perfect spot against yours and move softly to taste you. His tongue teases you, asking for more of you ever so softly. You stay there, kissing under the moonlight for what feels like hours but also like just an instant, until you part for the sole reason of needing air. Both your chests rise and fall rapidly as you breathe, but his hands never leave your neck, his fingers doing small motions against your skin.

“Were you joking, though?” Poe breaks the silence, his voice carrying a hint of laughter. His eyes are hazy as he opens them again and finds your blushing face. You laugh together before he kisses you once more, and the smile he feels against his lips has all the answers he might ever need.

It doesn't slip past you both a different bet being settled a few feet away from you. Maybe you were a bit obvious, after all.

🌟🚀🌟🚀🌟🚀🌟🚀🌟🚀🌟🚀🌟🚀🌟🚀🌟🚀

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#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron x you #poe x you #poe x reader #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron au #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron fic

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