#not a trigger but just. hard to describe but weird for me.

[izzysarchivedblogs]

if i have fcs for characters, i always match age and gender. or match age as closely as possible. so if i am using trans fc, that character is trans; just a if i hc a character a tran, their fc will be an out trans actor

i know that i do have this on my muse list. pepper potts is a trans woman, i write her as a trans woman, thats why her fc is a trans woman. this was the hc and how i wrote pepper when she had her independent blog years ago. and pepper is 45 like her fc.

just as johnny doesn't have an fc, or well scott turner schofield is since he is a trans man but i could not find his age but google mostly thinks scott is 30 to 40, as i typically write johnny as 38, because i also write him and has been written as a trans man since his original blog as well.

i don't write transphobia or focus on these characters experiencing it; you can assume that they have through the nature of the real world; but in marvel setting they are out and mostly focus on these characters for their characters and plot and write trans joy instead; nor do i get too much into their medical history or any of that; i mostly focus on these characters for their stories we knew in the comics; but always saw pepper's insistence on having her rt node in her chest and being her own woman, as story that could be related to by those who are trans and nonbinary, and than when i started writing johnny, which i had picked up for with a friend (not on tumblr) when i brought him to tumblr, i kept their hc for trans johnny storm; and now i am trying to find trans man actors to cast as johnny as opposed to cis actors

anyways. that's why clint's fc is ryan gosling now; which clint's had a lot of fcs; but i like ryan now for him; and while i put clint at 44, ryan's at 42.

greer's aging/physical age is around 30; due her superhuman serum/human enhancements as well as her transformation/mutation. adira her fc i 31. and i place greers age around 37 ish. looking younger than she is cause mystic stuff, serum stuff.

look when you write characters, whose canons date WAY back. age is a really hard number to figure out with 616 comic canon.

[dennisboobs]

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[alchemiclee]

I think doing shipping through and aroace lens makes things complicated but also interesting. I think one reason I don't enjoy straight ships as much is because it's very rare for people write/talk about them with a queerplatonic dynamic. straight romance is so "normalized" in society, it's hard to get any other dynamic out of those ships from other people in conversation or writing. it's mostly always romantic. (especially when "guys and girls can't be *just* friends" is extremely common and has ruined mamy of my own friendships) but I enjoy a handful of a straight ship with that dynamic. it's just way more rare to see talked about than gay ones from my observation. anyway point is, more queerplatonic type ships and stuff please! those aren't explored enough!

[godlessbody]

i know that mollymauk’s scars aren’t self harm scars (that would be a fun and very fucked flavor for a blood hunter tho) but seeing art of him covered in scars still makes me so infinitely fond

[sickgraymeat]

Why do I have like I feel like I have rapid cycling cyclothymia but it’s REALLY rapid and my lows are too severe? Or like bipolar ii breaking out of its lithium shell but REALLY REALLY REALLY rapid cycling like too rapid??? Tag consensus (me talking to myself) it’s probably the (C & regular) PTSD lol

[buckymorelikefuckme]

and baby makes three

(the reboot)

bucky barnes x fem reader

words: 11.3k

warnings: **18+ ONLY** friends to lovers, pining, smut, oral (f receiving), breeding kink, pregnancy kink, cockwarming (kind of??), trigger warning for having troubles with getting pregnant. it's still super fuckin soft despite all of that though, i swear.

a/n: okay so it's currently 6am as i'm typing this and i haven't been to sleep yet bc i decided to just heavily edit this instead of rewrite it bc i'm lazy i guess idk. this was posted originally back in 2021 i believe and it's still on ao3 it's just orphaned rip. i promise i'll be writing and posting new stuff soon ok pls have faith in me and cheer me on bc it's hard and scary and i don't wanna disappoint anybody :( ANYWAY, as usual, any and all mistakes are my own. if i've missed anything important pls let me know so i can correct it. feedback is encouraged (pls) and appreciated (i am begging...)

The idea of you having a child one day always seemed foreign and very unlikely. Sure, you liked kids well enough, but having one of your own…

It’s a thought that’s sat in a corner deep in your mind, buried beneath a million other impossible concepts; a thought that you’ve only ever glanced over and never gave your full attention, having ruled it out ages ago as something you just couldn’t—or wouldn’t—do.

And then, on a day like any other, it pushes its way to the forefront of your mind, making itself known and unwilling to leave.

You’re going into the clothing store to find a new cardigan after your most favorite one got eaten by the dryer. Usually you’re a single-minded shopper, walking into a store with tunnel vision and on a mission to get what you need and that’s it.

Today, however, you make the mistake of letting your eyes wander on your way to the sweater section. Your gaze just so happens to land on the baby clothes… and your steps falter. It’s there that you see it, a tiny, pink onesie with a sleeping teddy bear printed on the front, displayed on an even tinier hanger. There’s matching pants with teddy bears all over them and ruffles on the butt and all your brain can muster up is cutecutecutecutecute.

Your feet carry you closer and before you realize what you’re doing you pick up the outfit, letting out a coo when you realize the teddy bear is fuzzy, softly rubbing your thumb across it. Somehow, you walk out of the store, not with a new cardigan, but with the cute baby outfit and a bow you thought looked adorable with it.

It’s not until you get home that it hits you, that you bought baby clothes for a baby you don’t even have.

The feeling that rushes through you is hard to describe. Shame? Embarrassment?

...Yearning?

No. Definitely not. Nope.

There’s absolutely no yearning going on here, not for a baby. You’ve never even had that desire before and you certainly don’t see yourself having it now. You shake your head to clear it, telling yourself you’ll take it back tomorrow.

Except you don’t take it back. You conveniently “forget” and it stays shoved on the top shelf in your hall closet. You pretend you don’t pause in front of said closet throughout the following days—weeks—chewing on the inside of your cheek and staring at the door like you can see through the wood at the evidence of your impulsive purchase.

It gets harder to ignore, though, when you start getting ads for baby clothing brands. And baby toys, bottles, handy little gadgets for new parents, nursery decor… It’s endless.

Then, as if it wasn’t already bad enough, all of your childhood friends start popping out babies like it’s a brand new trend. You don't think you've seen your social media this flooded with pregnancy announcements and baby arrivals, ever. Your emotions are mixed; happy for them, and for their excitement, but there’s also a weird discomfort settled in your stomach.

You hesitate to be that person who thinks the universe is trying to tell you something, but you do wonder. Why else would you suddenly have these feelings? Why else would there be baby stuff everywhere you look now?

It brings on other thoughts, as well. In this day and age, it’s not too unusual for women to have babies without being married, or without a significant other at all. There is the pressure, still, to at least be in a relationship, but considering you’ve been practically in love with one of your closest friends for the last two years, it’s safe to say that you’re tragically single, so having a baby with someone is out of the question.

And god, do you even want a baby?

As soon as the thought crosses your mind, with a sudden clarity that hits you like a ton of bricks, you realize you do. It feels like a freight train has slammed into you. Your mind’s eye supplies you with images of a swollen belly and wide smile, a precious baby wrapped in a soft blanket, cradled in your arms, a gummy grin and happy giggle.

Emotion consumes you then, longing like you’ve never felt in your life, chest aching with how badly you want that.

It’s not as if you’re too young. You’re plenty old enough and you’ve got a secure job. You don’t subscribe to that whole biological clock nonsense, but you do feel that if you are going to potentially have a baby, it might be better to do it now while you’re still in relatively good health.

You groan, dropping your face into your open palms, the movie you'd been watching to try and distract yourself long forgotten as it continues to play on the television.

This is a lot to think about, you ponder to yourself. Taking a deep breath in and releasing it slowly, you decide the mature thing to do is give yourself more time to ruminate on it. Having a baby is no small decision. You need to be absolutely certain it’s what you want. It’s going to change your entire life, everything, and you’d be responsible for a new life. So, you’ll have to give yourself a few months to decide and then you can go from there.

***

You’re scrolling through yet another article on your laptop, engrossed in every detail of the process of artificial insemination and the symptoms and side effects that come with it. So engrossed, in fact, that you don’t hear the key turning in the lock, the door opening and closing, and the heavy footfalls that follow.

It’s only when Bucky asks, “Whatcha reading?” that you are even aware of his presence.

You startle so hard that your knee slams into the underside of your table. Ignoring the throbbing pain in your knee and your wildly beating heart, you close your laptop with a snap and turn to Bucky.

“You could knock,” you grouse.

“Why give me a key, then?” he retorts, unapologetic.

You roll your eyes and grumble under your breath, “Clearly, it was a mistake.”

“You didn’t answer me.”

Brows furrowed, you ask, “What?”

He gestures to your laptop. “What were you reading? Your nose was nearly smushed against the screen.”

You blink, trying to think of a reasonable excuse and coming up empty.

“Nothing,” is all your brilliant mind can supply.

Bucky’s eyes narrow for a few seconds, and you pray to every higher power and all that is holy and good that he won’t press further. You remain frozen under Bucky’s suspicious stare, hearing that Old West shootout music playing in your mind.

Thankfully, it seems the deities are feeling indulgent, as Bucky chooses let it go.

He holds up the bags he carried in. “I brought lunch.”

You perk up instantly. “Did you go to that one place—?”

“With the fried rice you like so much, yes,” he finishes for you, smiling.

“You’re the best,” you sigh, stomach rumbling eagerly.

“I know,” he replies, solemn and dramatic like the idiot he is.

He begins taking out the styrofoam boxes and chattering on about something dumb Steve did the other day, and you mean to listen, you really do. It’s just. That article is still lingering in your brain. There’s so many steps and hassles. Plus, it’s not cheap. It would be a hefty investment.

You’d only researched it because, after months of contemplating the pros and cons of having a baby, you determined the pros far outweigh the cons. But then the problem was: how to even make it happen.

Your first thought was that you didn’t think you’d let just any man come inside you, for many obvious reasons. You’d shuddered to think of it. Then there was surrogacy, which is admirable and wonderful, but you’d quickly dismissed that idea as you realized you wanted to actually carry the baby yourself. So that led you to artificial insemination. You weren’t sure how you felt about it yet. There was something a little too clinical about choosing a random man’s sperm to have injected into your uterus.

Bucky’s still speaking as he grabs plates and forks, unaware of your inner monologue. “And then he got Sam involved,” he’s saying, scooping out food onto the plates, “which, as you know, I always think is a dumb thing to do.”

“I want to have a baby,” you blurt, eyes widening at your outburst.

Bucky fumbles with the spoon, sending fried rice flying, muttering curses as he tries to catch it with no luck as it lands with a dull clunk on the table. The silence that follows is loud. It feels like your heart is in your throat as you wait for him to just say something, anything.

“This is… quite a mess I’ve made,” Bucky finally observes. His voice is a bit higher than usual. “Where’s your vacuum? Actually, do you have one of those mini ones? Or would Clorox wipes be better? You know what, I’ll do both.”

He nods decisively then turns an expectant look towards you. His eyes look a bit wild, but you wisely keep that to yourself.

Wordlessly, you direct him to your hall closet. You realize your error a second too late when he opens the closet and reaches for the vacuum on the top shelf, where the purchase you’d made months ago also rests. His fingers get caught in the plastic bag when he grabs the handheld vacuum and its contents spill out. He goes to catch them right away, but once it registers what they are, he lets go of them like they’re on fire and nearly drops the vacuum on his foot.

Heat has been steadily creeping up your neck, but now your whole body feels aflame with embarrassment. The two of you stare at the baby clothes lying unassumingly on the floor for a long moment, until Bucky quietly walks back to the table with the vacuum clutched tightly in his fist. He flicks the switch on and it whirs to life, sucking up the bits of rice scattered around the table.

There’s another lengthy silence after he turns the vacuum off and you're unable to find the right thing to say to break it. Bucky does it for you.

“So… You’re serious.”

You meet his eyes and sigh heavily. “Yeah.”

He blinks a few times before clearing his throat, schooling his expression carefully. “I didn’t realize you were seeing someone.”

You cough lightly and start picking the peas out of your fried rice. “Well, that would be because I’m not.”

“I don’t think I follow,” he admits slowly.

You sigh again, lowering your gaze to your lap. “Look, I’ve thought about this a lot, okay? I’ve given myself months to really make sure it’s what I want. I’m in a good place in my life to have one, Bucky, and I don’t want to feel pressured to wait until I might get married.” You lift your gaze to his. “I want to have a baby,” you repeat firmly. “And I don’t need a partner to have one.”

You’re not sure why you feel the need to defend yourself. It’s not up to Bucky what you decide to do. You don’t need his approval, or anyone else’s. Maybe it’s because, even though you know it's not true, it feels like you're making too hasty of a decision.

After a beat, Bucky amends, “Well, I mean… You do…”

“Oh my god, shut up, you know what I mean,” you groan as you smack his arm, glad that he's not calling you crazy or trying to talk you out of it.

He doesn’t even flinch, the jerk.

“Wait, so what were you reading when I got here?” he suddenly questions, brows furrowed.

“Nothing,” you say too quickly, guiltily.

“Let me see your laptop then,” he counters as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You flounder for a second, scoffing. “What? No!”

“It can’t be that embarrassing, just show me,” he wheedles.

“Absolutely not.”

“Let me see!”

“It’s private!”

“Don’t be a chicken.”

Your eye twitches. “I’m not a chicken.” Bucky smirks and before he can even open his mouth you interject with a finger pointed accusingly at his face, “Do not start clucking at me, Bucky. I’ll kick your ass,” you threaten, though it's weak and you're not the only one who knows it.

You glare when his smirk only widens. Slowly, he moves his arms like he’s gonna flap them like chicken wings.

“Ugh! God, fine! You wanna know what I was reading?” You open your laptop and slide it over to him, turning it to where he can read it. “There.”

Bucky scans the page, then scans it again, eyes flicking all over like it’s in a different language. His cheeks grow redder and redder as he reads and you get a small sense of satisfaction at the sight.

“Wow,” he mutters finally. “You’re turkey baster serious.”

“James Buchanan Barnes,” you say, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“What?” he asks innocently.

When you make eye contact with him, you purse your lips to keep the laughter threatening to bubble out at bay, but the ever growing smile on Bucky’s face is hard to resist and you find yourself snorting a laugh that leads to uncontrollable giggles. Bucky’s laughing with you, his eyes crinkling on the sides. The tension you hadn’t realized you held in your shoulders loosens and you nudge his knee with yours in silent thanks.

“So,” he says after you've both calmed down.

“So,” you repeat, dragging it out, drumming your fingers on the tabletop. “I’ve been doing research, checking out all of my options, and while artificial insemination seems like the best choice… I don’t know, there’s just something too clinical about it,” you reply, voicing your concerns, “It doesn’t feel right. I know I said I don’t need a partner, and I don’t, but… Having absolutely no connection is weird.”

You shrug, waving a hand as if to say oh well, putting an end to the conversation, and pick up your plate to carry it over to the microwave. You reheat Bucky’s food while you’re up, and then you both start eating in comfortable silence. He gets halfway through his meal before speaking up.

“Have you… I mean, did you think about… I’ve heard that, uh. Some people ask another person…”

He trails off, clearly frustrated that he can’t just spit out what he’s trying to say. You think you understand what he means, though.

“I read up on surrogacy,” you say, biting your lip. “But I don’t think I’d want someone else to carry my baby.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean—I wasn’t suggesting, uh, that. Not that there’s anything wrong with it!” he rushes to say.

You tilt your head. “What did you mean then?”

“Well,” Bucky starts, stilted, licking his lips. “For the artificial insemination, have you considered… you know. Asking someone you’re close with?”

You frown, not following.

“For—for the sperm,” he clarifies, shifting in his seat.

“Oh,” you breathe, blinking rapidly, surprised as you think of how to reply. “Um. No? I wouldn’t even know who I could ask, to be honest. That’s quite the request, you know? Who would—“

“Me,” he interrupts, determined and cheeks flushed, “I would.”

Your own face heats. “Oh,” you say again, quieter.

You can say, with full confidence, that not once did it cross your mind to ask anyone to help you, but you especially would have never given thought to asking Bucky.

For a list of reasons, really, with “it’s Bucky” being right at the very top. Like—sure, yes, you’re in love with him, but after two years of no signs of reciprocation you’ve learned to stop dreaming, to stop hoping. If the attraction was mutual he would have shown it by now, right? And on top of that, his friendship means the world to you and you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize it. You'd never forgive yourself if you ever managed to fuck up the one good, constant thing going for you.

“Bucky,” you start, slow and careful, “this… This isn't something you can just jump into. It’s something you should think about for a while.”

He contemplates that for a second. “You’re right,” he concedes with a nod. “But…” He purses his lips, glancing away for a minute before turning back to you, leaning forward. “Okay listen, this is important for you. It’s going to change your whole life. You said it yourself, not having a connection to the sperm donor feels wrong. You’re my best friend, alright? I—care about you. You should pick someone you can trust.”

He clenches his jaw after he finishes speaking. You sort of hate the way your heart both flutters and plummets at his words. It’s nice to know you matter to him, just not in the way you’ve wanted for too long.

And if you’re really honest with yourself, Bucky would be a great choice as a donor. He’s in great health, has strong features that would look wonderful on any gender. But would you be able to handle the repercussions of having his child? Would you be able to look at your baby and see those features without it sending a pang through your chest every single time? You can’t say for certain.

Yet, the chance to have that type of connection with him, selfishly, sounds too good to pass up.

“At least think about it for a few days,” you murmur reluctantly.

It’s the most acceptance he’ll get and he knows it. A smile blooms across his face and you have to swallow down the warring emotions rising within you.

***

With the amount of research you do on the subject now, it doesn’t take long for you to find out that there are at-home kits for artificial insemination that are much easier (and cheaper). It’s easy to settle on that, clicking on the info to order your kit with butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You read through the instructions online and it all sounds simple enough, until you get to the part where it says that having an orgasm after injection helps increase your chances of conception.

Blinking, heat crawling up your neck, you read that step several times, hoping you read it wrong, but it doesn’t change.

You… You can’t masturbate with Bucky’s sperm inside you. That’s a line you refuse to cross.

And besides, he’s a healthy man in his thirties who exercises regularly and eats fairly healthy food! You probably—definitely—won’t need to take that step. It’ll be fine. Probably.

Once the kit arrives, you call Bucky and ask him to come over so you can explain the process to him. Since he’s only across the hall of your apartment building, he’s there a moment later, letting himself in with his key.

“Let’s make a baby,” is how he greets you.

“Hold your horses,” you reply, fighting back a laugh. “I gotta walk you through everything first.”

He plops himself down next to you on your couch. “Fine, fine. Go ahead.”

Squaring your shoulders, you begin telling him how it all works, and what parts he is key for. You speak through your awkwardness, avoiding eye contact, when you explain that he’ll need to masturbate into a clean, sterile cup. You leave out how it’s suggested for you to also masturbate, deciding it’s not pertinent information for him to know.

“When do we start?” he asks once you’re done.

“I have to take an ovulation test first to find out the best days for me to conceive, but once I do that we’ll be able to, um.” You gesture vaguely. “I’ll be able to do the injections.”

He nods. “Alright.” He looks at you then, taking your hand in his and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll be here every step of the way, okay?”

“I know,” you say, smiling. “Thank you, Bucky.”

“You’re welcome,” he returns softly.

“No, really, thank you,” you assert. “This is a lot to take on and I can never fully repay you.”

Bucky shakes his head. “I want you to be happy, and I can see that having this baby is going to do that. I’ll do whatever I need to do to ensure it happens.”

You pull him into a hug, willing yourself to not cry. You’re not sure he’ll ever understand what this means for you, personally, or that you’d ever find a way to express it. He’s giving you so much more than just a baby.

***

The first injection time comes and you find yourself fidgeting where you sit as you wait for Bucky to bring over the, uh… sample. You do your best to not think about what he’s doing in his apartment, to not think about exactly how he’s collecting his sperm.

Now is not the time, you mentally scold yourself. Get it together.

A timid knock at your door alerts you to his presence. The fact he’s knocking says a lot about his own level of embarrassment about the situation.

His cheeks are pink when you open the door. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi,” you return.

He clears his throat and lifts the small cup in his hand. “Here’s… well, you know.”

You gingerly take it from him, not knowing what else to say, but when he smiles somewhat crookedly and turns to leave, you find yourself asking, “Will you stay?”

Bucky’s steps pause. “Huh?”

“Will you—I mean… Would you mind staying?” You shift on your feet. “This is a big moment for me. I-I don’t want to do it alone.”

“Are you asking me to…?” He trails off awkwardly.

“Oh! God, no, I wouldn’t—no,” you assure, huffing a laugh, “I’m doing the injection, I just need a little moral support. That’s all.”

Bucky smiles. “Sure, I’ll stay.”

Relief floods through you. You step aside to let him in, closing the door behind him. He follows you to your bedroom and just before entering you stop in your tracks, nearly causing Bucky to bump into you.

“Um,” you mutter, turning to him. “You’ll have to, ah, sit out here,” you explain. “I have to be lying down…”

Understanding dawns on him. “Oh! Right, right, of course. Sorry.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m done,” you promise.

He nods and watches you close the door. You walk over to your bed and sit down, glancing at the syringe you’ll be using and biting the inside of your cheek.

This is it. There’s really no going back after this. Sure, you may not get pregnant the first time, but Bucky’s already said he’d help you for as long as it takes. It’s just… very real now. You don’t feel any doubts, though. You want this.

Inhaling a large breath and slowly letting it out, hands shaking, you take the lid off the cup and pick up the syringe. You remember the instructions, making sure there’s as little air sucked in as possible when you draw out the semen, and getting rid of the few air bubbles that you see. You grab your pillows and lie down, propping them beneath you to lift your hips.

“Here I go,” you mumble to yourself, taking another deep breath and releasing it.

A couple minutes later, the syringe is empty and you’ve got your legs pulled up to your chest. You cover yourself with your blanket and call out Bucky’s name.

“You okay?” you hear through the door.

“Will you come here, please?” you ask.

He walks in cautiously, making sure you’re decently covered before entering fully, wisely not commenting on your position. “Well?”

“I did it,” you whisper.

He stays quiet, letting you parse through your thoughts. You blink when you feel tears threatening to gather in your eyes. He’s beside you in an instant, crawling in the bed and lying down, taking your hand in his.

“Congratulations,” he says softly.

“Don’t congratulate me yet,” you reply, sniffing and wiping at your eyes.

“Still,” he presses. “You’re one step closer now.”

He pulls your hand up and kisses the back of it. You give him a watery smile. The two of you lay there in silence for a moment before Bucky breaks it.

“This isn’t how I pictured myself making a baby.”

It startles a laugh out of you and Bucky grins, pleased to have helped ease the tense atmosphere. He distracts you with idle conversation after that, talking about his plans for the upcoming weekend, asking about yours, tells you about the newest stupid thing Sam did; he talks and talks and talks, until your anxiety is gone, and then he stays to cook dinner for you.

Your hug when he gets ready to head back to his apartment lasts a couple minutes longer than usual. Bucky quietly allows it, dropping a kiss on your forehead when you pull away.

“Same time next week?” he jokes, making you crack a smile.

“Goodbye, Bucky,” you reply exasperatedly as you close your door.

“Bye, sweetheart,” he returns over his shoulder.

***

Weeks pass. More injections. Pregnancy tests taken.

But nothing happens.

All of your tests come back negative.

When reading up on artificial insemination, and pregnancy in general, you’d understood that there was a chance it wouldn’t happen right away. You thought you were fine with that, that you’d be alright with the waiting and all. Looking at your growing collection of negative tests, however, has a sense of dread building within you. You do your best to quell it, telling yourself there’s no need to stress over it. Yet.

Besides, your mind supplies in an overly cheerful manner, there’s still one more method to try!

***

The next time Bucky brings over his sample, he lets himself in, like always, and passes along the cup with an encouraging smile. You try to smile back, but it feels more like a grimace. He either doesn’t notice or he at least pretends not to, thankfully.

But when he goes to make himself comfortable to wait, you’re reminded that you haven’t told him about the, uh… change in procedure, so to speak.

You clear your throat delicately. “I don’t think you’ll need to stick around this time.”

Bucky frowns. “Why not?”

“Because…” You trail off, cheeks pinking, yet not finishing the sentence, because how do you explain this?

“I promised you I’d be here every step of the way,” he recalls. “I intend to keep that promise.”

You wince. “I really appreciate where your heart is, Bucky, I really do, but I literally cannot let you be here for this injection.”

“Why not?”

You look heavenward for mercy. “I have to…”

When you don’t finish your sentence again, Bucky raises a single brow, gesturing for you to go on. “You have to… what?”

You huff, throwing your arms out. “I have to orgasm, okay?”

His eyes go a little bit wide, but you can tell he tries to control his reaction. He swallows, shifting where he sits on the couch.

“Oh,” he mumbles. “Have… have you had to do that before?”

“No. Well, I mean, it was suggested, but I never…”

His eyebrows furrow. “Does it help or something?”

You absently scratch your neck. “They say it increases the chances of conception.”

“But you haven’t been doing… that.”

“I didn’t think I’d need to.”

Bucky inhales like he’s going to say something, but then doesn’t.

“Yeah, so, I don’t think you should be here,” you utter, quickly adding, “No offense.”

“No, yeah, that’s fair, um. I’ll just—I’ll head back to my apartment,” he states as he stands. “You can—I mean, if you still want me to—I can come back over? After you… uh…”

“I’ll let you know,” you reply, voice tight and high.

He nods, looking lost and like he wants to say more but thinks better of it. Finally, he mutters a soft bye and is out the door.

Alone now, your stomach feels like it’s tying itself in knots and your heart is doing its damnedest to beat out of your chest. You try to tell yourself that it’s just another injection, that this is the same as any other time you've done this, but you know it’s not. It's really, really not.

Laying down on your bed, syringe in hand, is much more nerve wracking than before. On your left lies a new addition to your routine. You don’t know why you’re acting like such a prude all the sudden. It’s not like you’ve never masturbated before. Though, you suppose the major difference is that you didn’t have Bucky’s sperm hangin’ out in your vagina all those other times while you did it.

“Quit being such a goober about this,” you tell yourself.

This has to be done for a reason. If you want to have a baby—and you do, very badly—then you’re gonna have to deal with the process.

Once you’ve injected the sperm, you reach for your bullet vibrator next to your left hand. The instructions say not to insert anything, only to stimulate your clit. You try to clear your head, think of it as a chore or something, yet it’s hard not to think of a certain someone.

The vibrator buzzes with the press of a button. You adjust your hips, making sure they’re tilted, then bring the vibrator to your clit. The first touch makes your stomach tense and thighs spasm.

You close your eyes, running the toy along your slit. You really don’t want to drag this out, would prefer to get it over with as quickly as possible, but your mind begins running away with images.

Bucky, settled between your spread thighs, one hand resting on one of them, the other controlling the vibrator. You imagine he’d tease you, slowly trail it along the crease of your thighs, over your hips; everywhere but where you wanted it.

Bucky would probably give in once you whine and beg enough, once your desperation bled into your voice, and hold the vibrator directly to your clit, drink in your cries of pleasure like they’re the finest whisky.

He’d mutter soft but firm encouragement, tell you how good you’re doing, how good you sound. He’d start circling the vibrator, going from quick to lazy swirls, then he’d change the setting to a higher one just to hear you whimper. His free hand would run up your torso to pinch at your nipples for added stimulation.

When you imagine him leaning down to add his tongue into the mix, your mind blanks as your climax hits you, a ragged moan forcing its way out of your throat. You’re quick to turn the vibrator off and toss it to the floor, deciding you’ll worry about cleaning it later, chest heaving as you pant for breath after an intense orgasm.

Shame and embarrassment consume you, mock you for using Bucky to rub one out. You’d given in to the fantasy so easily.

Truthfully, it’s not the first time you’ve thought of him while pleasuring yourself, but the context this time is completely different, and you feel immediately guilty. Admittedly, it’s probably irrational.

That doesn’t stop you from cringing at your actions.

***

You’re sure you’ve bought out the entire pregnancy test section from the convenience store down the block. Currently, there are six different brands in front of you, all promising the most accurate results.

Bucky is sitting in your bedroom, quietly waiting for you to pee on all of them so you can both find out what they say. You chug the last bit of your third bottle of water even though your bladder is fit to burst at any moment. Turning the faucet on for modesty, you make quick work of the tests, then wash your hands.

And wait.

You call Bucky into the bathroom with you. The two of you quietly sit on the edge of your bathtub, counting down the minutes. Part of you wishes Bucky would say something dumb to break the tension, like he usually does, but you're also kind of glad he's just here, next to you, a silent comfort.

It seems like hours have passed when you’re finally sure you can check them.

The first one is negative, and so is the second. The third, however, reads positive. Your heart begins racing, clutching at the counter, but before your hopes get too carried away you read the rest. To your dismay, they are all negative. You stare down at them all, eyes falling on the loan positive test multiple times, knowing that it’s likely a false positive, yet stupidly hoping otherwise.

Your chin wobbles. Bucky hugs you from behind, resting his cheek on your shoulder.

“What do I do, Bucky?”

At your broken whisper, he sighs. “I don’t know, sweetheart.”

Neither of you know what to say or do after that. Bucky continues offering quiet support, his solid presence at your back, and you’re grateful. Eventually, he leads you out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, sitting you down at the table as he starts preparing dinner.

When you’re both eating the spaghetti he made, he breaks the silence.

“Do you think…” he starts, pausing to think of how to phrase his question before carefully carrying on. “Are you going to stop?”

“I don’t want to,” you answer, the implied but hanging heavy in the air.

Bucky sits his fork down. “I know you want this, very much.” He pushes his hair out of his face as he leans forward, elbows settling on the table. “But I hate seeing how sad you get when the tests come out negative. I feel so… powerless. Like I could be doing more or something.”

“You’re doing all you can, Bucky,” you assure.

“That’s the thing, though. I don’t think I am.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

He licks his lips, locking his fingers together. “I think we should have sex.”

Your fork drops to your plate with a clang, eyes going wide.

“I apologize for how blunt that came out,” he states with a wince. “But, I mean, think about it. You’ve only been using my sperm from a syringe, and up until the last time, you hadn’t been, um, orgasming with it.” You look away, bashful. “I just wonder if maybe trying the old-fashioned way would give you better results.”

“Bucky,” you start, opening and closing your mouth a couple times before shaking your head. “It’s one thing for you to offer your sperm, which I’m thankful for, truly, but… Having sex?”

“I’ve already told you I’m willing to do whatever I need to do,” he retorts earnestly. “Your happiness means a lot to me, okay? I hate sitting around and watching your heart break every week. You’ve tried it your way, now I think we should try mine.”

“I-I don’t know,” you hesitate, chewing on the inside of your cheek, knee beginning to bounce under the table.

His hand slides onto your knee, stilling the movement as he ducks his head to meet your gaze. His eyes are impossibly sincere and your resolve crumbles in an instant.

“It won’t… It’s not going to change anything,” he assures. “I won’t allow it.”

You swallow roughly. He may not, but your heart is going to take its toughest beating yet. It’s going to be hopeless trying to overcome the inevitable emotions that come with sex.

Even so, somehow, your longing for a baby eclipses all of this. Now that you’ve imagined holding your child in your arms, raising them and loving them, you can’t go back. Not anymore.

“Okay,” you allow, softly.

Bucky’s shoulders relax, lips tipping up into a devastating smile.

You’re so fucked. (Pun intended.)

***

Two nights later, you’re pacing in your bedroom, impatiently waiting for Bucky to arrive. You’d been unsure whether or not you should dress up. You didn’t see the point, honestly. Still, a small part of you wondered what his reaction would be if he saw you all done up in lingerie. At the moment, you’re in an oversized t-shirt and pajama shorts.

It’s Bucky, you think, and this isn’t a normal situation, it doesn’t matter what I’m wearing.

You hear his key turning in the lock then and your heart begins hammering away. He calls your name as he enters.

“In here,” you reply, twisting your fingers nervously.

He walks into your room looking just as on edge as you are. He also seems to have had the same idea about his attire, comfortable in his white tee and sweatpants. His feet are bare and for whatever reason that feels way more intimate than it has any right to.

“Hey,” he greets.

“Hi.”

You bite your lip, eyes flitting around your room and coming back to settle on Bucky. He huffs.

“This is ridiculous,” he declares, “It’s just us.”

“Right,” you nod, biting the inside of your cheek.

“It’s not gonna be weird.”

“Nope.”

His jaw ticks. You stare back at him. It only takes a moment for you to realize that somebody has to make the first move, so you steel yourself and turn on your heel, walking towards your bed.

“I’m keeping my shirt on,” you announce as you unceremoniously drop onto the mattress, grabbing your pillows to stuff them under you.

Bucky follows at a sedate pace, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He pauses next to you, taking a second to roll his shoulders, then he climbs in and settles in front of your bent legs. He gingerly places his hands on your knees.

“May I?” he asks.

Mouth suddenly dry, you nod. He moves his hands to the waistband of your shorts and tugs. You lift your hips to help him slide them down and off, along with your underwear. Gently, he spreads your legs.

Your breathing has picked up considerably, eyes firmly trained on the ceiling. You know you’re already wet and are blessedly thankful he doesn’t mention it.

The first slide of his fingers has you inhaling sharply. He slowly gathers your slick and trails it up to your clit, lightly circling it. Your mind recalls your fantasy, but you quickly shove it back to the depths of your thoughts, lest you do something idiotic like tell him about it.

He spreads your legs more, adjusting his position between them. His fingers move down until he can sink one into you. You gasp, hands shooting out to grasp your sheets. He wastes no time and begins thrusting his finger inside you.

It becomes quickly apparent to you that it’s going to be very difficult to hold back any noise or reactions. Goddamnit, you will try, though!

When he decides it’s time to add another finger, you feel yourself clench around them, and his soft fuck does not go unnoticed, evident in the way your pussy traitorously clenches again.

“Can I…?” he asks, voice cracking, but doesn’t finish his thought, making you have to break your staring contest with the ceiling and look at him.

He’s not even looking back at you, he’s staring at his fingers, watching them pump in and out of you, half bent over with a slack jaw, like he wants to…

He meets your eyes then, licking his lips.

Oh.

Swallowing around the sudden lump in your throat, knowing you’re probably going to regret it, you nod.

He’s leaning over and sucking on your clit before you can even blink. You cry out, thighs trying to clamp around his head, but his free hand shoots out to hold you open. It makes you squirm, fisting the sheets even tighter. His fingers curl inside you as his tongue licks around them and you whine, high and needy, and then mouth is back on your clit, tongue swiping over it, sucking on it with loud, obscene noises.

His hand comes up to grab the hem of your shirt, shoves it upward until it’s bunched underneath your breasts. Those fingers ghost back down your torso, goosebumps erupting in their wake.

He speeds up his thrusts and your hand flies down to grip his hair. You don’t think you’re meant to hear the quiet grunt he lets out, but you do, and it has you panting even harder. Your orgasm is building, fast, and you pull on his hair in warning.

“Bucky,” you say on a gasp.

Using his arm to hold you down, his free hand joins, thumb swiping over your clit now as he dips his head to slide his tongue in alongside his fingers. It draws a yell out of you, the ever expanding pleasure within you bursting into the hardest orgasm you’ve experienced thus far in your adult life. You know you’re moaning, bucking into the sensations coursing through you, and you’d feel abashed if you didn’t feel so fucking good.

Before you can become too sensitive, Bucky withdraws his fingers and sits up. You can’t even really catch your breath, though, because in the next second he’s whipping his t-shirt off and shoving his sweatpants down far enough to free his cock.

Your thighs do clamp closed then, at the sight of how thick he is, and he tries and fails to keep his smirk hidden.

“Oh, shut up,” you wheeze.

“Didn’t say anything,” he counters.

He doesn’t let you argue, choosing that moment to shuffle closer and line up with your opening. Cautiously, he eases himself inside, inch by inch. Your mouth drops open, brows furrowing as he fills you, stretching you so perfectly. When he’s in as far as he can go, the breath wooshes out of him, his head falling back. You know he’s trying to be polite and let you adjust, but—

“Oh my god, move,” you demand, impatient.

He huffs a laugh, dropping his heavy lidded gaze to yours. “Bossy.”

“Did you really expect anything else—oh!”

The grin he aims your way after grinding into you is downright sinful. You mentally tell yourself to kick him for that later.

He grabs your hips and the pillows and settles you closer to his lap, changing the angle, then pulls out and glides back in, creating a painstakingly slow rhythm.

You have to close your eyes. You can’t look at him anymore. You knew he was probably a god in bed, but to now have firsthand experience? There was no way you’d be able to fuck anyone else without comparing them.

His grip on your hips tightens, the only warning you get before his thrusts turn sharp.

“Fuck,” you cry out, your hands reaching up to grip the pillow beneath your head.

The sound of your skin meeting his is harsh in the otherwise quiet room. Well, okay, you’re not exactly being quiet, but you can’t be blamed for that.

Bucky, however, is nearly silent. The only thing you hear from him is heavy breathing. You wonder if he’s holding back, the thought crossing your mind for a split second, and then you’re clenching around his cock, trying to see if you can gain a reaction. And boy, do you get one.

He grunts and sucks in a breath, lips parting as his eyes squeeze shut. His hips pick up their pace and hair falls into his face. You find yourself wishing he was closer so you could brush it out of the way.

Stop it, you scold yourself.

He pauses to grind into you again, your walls fluttering around his throbbing cock, and you both sigh. Bucky leans forward, hooking your legs into the crooks of his elbows, and resumes his brutal pace.

“O-Oh,” you whimper.

The new angle is heavenly, his cock dragging along a spot inside you that you thought nobody else could find. Unable to help yourself, you clutch at his arms, nails digging in.

“Shit,” he groans, thrusts faltering.

He lets go of one of your legs to slip his hand between you, rubbing at your clit and sending you that much closer to your second orgasm. He can tell you’re close, but you’re gonna need something to push you over the edge. He leans down even closer, breath fanning out against your cheek.

“C’mon,” he pants. “Let go.”

You shiver when his tongue flicks your earlobe and sucks it into his mouth, keening as the pressure builds. He thrusts harder, faster, and when you grasp his hair and pull, he growls and latches on to your shoulder, biting down. You gasp from the added pain and then you’re coming, shuddering and whining through your release. Bucky isn’t far behind, raising up and fucking into you savagely before pausing abruptly, groaning as he finally comes. He lazily thrusts a few more times to draw it out, then stops, stilling with his cock inside you.

Your hair is sticking to your forehead, as well as your shirt to your clammy back, breathing in lungfuls of air. Bucky is softly caressing your thighs, letting out shaky breaths as your pussy continues to flutter around him.

It takes several moments for you to gather your wits, for the rest of the world to come filtering back in. You are truly and completely fucked now, in every sense of the word.

“Well…” You trail off, voice scratchy.

“That was…”

“Mhm,” you mumble.

Bucky sighs heavily. “Let’s hope it worked this time.”

You hum. “Thank you for your service,” you reply with a lazy salute.

You yelp when he pinches your hip, kicking at him in retaliation. The jostling reminds you, with a gasping groan, that he’s still buried balls deep inside you.

“Um.” You cough lightly. “You wanna, you know… pull out?”

He looks down where you’re connected like it hadn’t even dawned on him. “Oh, uh. Well, I thought maybe it could, like. Help.”

His gaze stays locked, fingers flexing on your hips, and you feel like squirming again.

“I think it’s good,” you say quietly.

Bucky finally glances back up at your shy tone, cheeks pinking. He clears his throat.

“Right.”

Carefully, he eases his softening cock out of you, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from making a noise.

You can’t hold back yours, though, gasping once he’s gone. You feel unbearably empty, but refrain from voicing that incessant thought.

Bucky’s intense eyes stare at your pussy until you reach for the throw blanket next to you. He watches you throw it over your lap, drawing your legs up to your chest, and takes that as his cue, jolting into action.

“Okay, so.” He starts, then stops, climbs off your bed and pulls his sweatpants back up. “This was—I mean, if it doesn’t take this time, we can… try again.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. “Sounds good.”

He nods, bending to pick up his discarded t-shirt. “Great. I’ll just, um, see myself out, I guess.”

You nod, sending a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes in his direction. He seems to contemplate something for a second, then leans down to kiss your forehead before saying a quick goodbye and leaving.

As soon as you hear your apartment door shut, you let your tears fall.

***

It’s not really like you mean to avoid him after that.

Honest.

You simply become busy, that’s all. You definitely don’t go out of your way by taking the stairs in your apartment building to avoid possibly bumping into him in the elevator. No, you take the stairs because you could use the cardio. It’s important you stay healthy right now. And when he texts you to ask if you want to have dinner, you can’t help that you’ve got boatloads of work to catch up on���all five times he asks.

Okay, so, that’s a lie. You’re totally avoiding him. But what on earth are you supposed to say to him now? You don’t think you’d even be able to look him in the eye anymore, not after the fuck of your goddamn life.

That night confirmed what you already knew for the last two years: Bucky absolutely ruined you for anyone else.

More than anything, though, you were angry with yourself. He’d only offered because you weren’t getting your desired results the other way. You should have been able to separate your feelings and emotions from all of it. After all, none of this was about whatever you feel towards Bucky. This was about trying to conceive a baby.

You try telling yourself to get over it. He’s your best friend, you can’t just cut him off because you’re a spineless pansy.

I just need some time, you reason. You can give yourself a few days to wallow over what could have been and then you can reach out to him and pretend like everything is fine. Because it is.

***

Flash forward two weeks to you attempting to sneak into your apartment, only to jump out of your skin when you turn around and find Bucky sitting on your couch, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Oh, good, you’re still alive,” he drawls.

His tone suggests annoyance. You suppose you deserve that.

“Hey,” you say after a pause.

He stares at you for a moment longer before speaking again. “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t let it get weird.”

You agreed, you almost say, thankfully biting it back. You drop your purse on the entryway table, sliding your shoes off and making your way over to sit next to him.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. You tug your sweater sleeves down and tuck your feet beneath you. “I haven’t ever… I’ve never been intimate with a friend before. It was just… a lot.”

It’s a half truth, at least. You haven’t had sex with a friend before. Or, well, not one you had feelings for.

“You could’ve just told me,” he replies, reaching for your hand.

You nod. “I know, and I should have, I just. Things are all out of whack lately with the whole… trying to get pregnant thing.”

“If I overstepped in any way—” Bucky starts, but you’re quick to interrupt.

“You didn’t,” you promise. “You’ve been nothing but fantastic throughout this whole ordeal. Honestly, Bucky, you’ve done way more than anyone else would have in this situation. I just had a lot going on in my head and let it get the best of me. I’m fine, I swear.”

He searches your eyes and must find what he’s looking for.

“Don’t shut me out again,” he pleads.

Heart cracking in your chest, you can only nod, shuffling closer to pull him into a hug. He buries his face in your neck and holds on tight.

***

Another week passes.

Bucky is with you as you wait for the results of the latest pregnancy test. He’s reassured you that you’ll keep trying until it happens if it didn’t work this time.

When the timer on your phone goes off, you release the breath you’ve been holding. You take tentative steps over to the sink and gingerly pick up the test.

Positive.

Your stomach swoops. It’s positive. You check again, reading the digitized screen, but it stays the same. Positive. Holy shit.

“Okay, wait, no, I need to do more. I can’t get my hopes up again,” you mutter, rushing to open the cabinet under your sink to dig out several more varieties of tests.

You don’t even wait for Bucky to leave before you’re peeing on the other sticks. He’s seen it all at this point anyway, and he doesn’t seem to care, sitting on the edge of your tub with an anxious expression. The downside is that you have to wait another few minutes for these tests to finish and you can’t sit still, pacing back and forth in the small space of your bathroom.

The timer goes off again. You feel like you’re going to throw up when you finally work up the courage to look down.

Every single one of them… Positive.

A shocked, happy laugh escapes you. You cover your mouth, turning to Bucky with wide eyes.

He rises to his full height, coming closer and peering down at the tests, then back to your teary eyed expression.

“Did we…?”

Words failing you, you nod, giggling in astonishment. Bucky’s face breaks into the biggest, handsomest, most gut-wrenching smile. His happiness is palpable and you’re suddenly so overcome with emotion. Your hands are gripping his face and angling it to align your lips to his before you register what you’re doing. He freezes and you hurriedly pull away, taking a few steps back.

“I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know why—”

“Shut up,” he cuts you off, closing the gap between you in a single stride.

He kisses you like his life depends on it, pressing your bodies as close as possible, his hands cupping your cheeks. You clutch his shirt desperately, never wanting to let go. He steals the breath straight from your lungs when he swipes at the seam of your lips with his tongue, moaning happily when you allow him access. A feeble whine from you after he flicks his tongue against yours makes him break the kiss.

“I have a confession,” he breathes into the miniscule space between your mouths.

“What?” you question distractedly.

“I’m in love with you.”

Your gaze shoots up to his, astounded. He brushes stray hairs off your forehead, runs his thumbs softly under your eyes.

“I’ve been selfish this whole time,” he reveals. “I couldn’t let you choose some random stranger to be your sperm donor, to father your child, couldn’t bear the thought of you carrying their baby, because I’ve been in love with you since the moment I met you. I wanted to be the one. And I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, but I’m not sorry I did it.”

You’re hearing the words, yet your brain can’t seem to make sense of them. Surely you’re hearing him wrong. You can’t possibly have this too, right? You can't have Bucky and have his baby…

But he’s here, very real and solid beneath your hands, looking at you like you’re his entire world.

“Bucky…” You trail off, struggling to find the right words, at a complete loss. “I-I’ve loved you for so long now, I didn’t think you…” You shake your head, a giggle escaping you as you stare at him in wonder. “I couldn’t let myself hope.”

He grins, relieved, planting a few chaste kisses to your mouth. “I know this entire circumstance is totally backwards, but I want you, and I want this baby. I meant it when I said I’m not going anywhere.”

Fresh tears gather in the corners of your eyes. “Are you sure?” you still ask.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

You have to kiss him then, uncaring of the tears that trickle down your face. The only thing you are focused on is the way his hands trail down your back, pausing to squeeze your ass, then grip underneath to lift you. Your legs wrap around his waist, arms locked around his neck, as he heads for your bed. He makes a point of throwing your extra pillows on the floor before settling between your thighs and kissing the hell out of you.

He pulls away only to undress you and himself, but he’s always back as quickly as possible, lips pressing kisses wherever he can reach. You impatiently tug at him until his lips are attached to yours again. The way he fucks his tongue into your mouth is nothing short of indecent and it sends a rush of pure want all the way to your core.

When you bury your fingers in his hair, gripping it tight, he grunts, biting your lip. You whimper and he grins as he pulls away.

“You make the most beautiful sounds,” he praises, his hands beginning to sweep down and up, tickling under your breasts.

His thumb and forefinger pinch one of your nipples and you gasp, back arching off your mattress. He repeats it on the other side, just to hear the same noise.

“Bucky, please,” you beg.

“Please what?” he prods. His hands drift further to the creases of your thighs, spreading them open. “What do you need?”

You whine, canting your hips up. “You, I need you, please.”

“You have me, sweetheart.” He tilts his head and you make a noise of frustration. “Use your words, darlin’.”

“Fuck me, please,” you burst out, feeling your pussy clench around nothing.

Bucky smiles, slow and torturous. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you? Fuck this perfect pussy until you’re so full of my come that it drips down your beautiful thighs?”

“Oh god,” you mumble.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he teases.

His fingers slide down your slit, gathering your slick then thrusts two fingers in at once. You groan brokenly, shifting your hips to try and get more friction, but he holds them down with his metal arm. Agonizingly slow, he begins fucking you with his fingers. It’s good, it’s amazing, but it’s not enough. Not when you know what his cock feels like. He takes his precious time fingering you and you’re sure you’re going to lose your mind before the day is done.

“You have no idea how incredible you felt around my cock,” he tells you in a ridiculously conversational tone. “I was trying to think of any excuse I could come up with to have you at least one more time.”

He shifts until his mouth is directly above where you’re dripping for him, and he waits until you make eye contact with him.

“But now I’m gonna spend the rest of my life making you come apart on my cock any chance I get.”

You hardly have any functioning brain cells at the moment, but even if you could form a coherent sentence you wouldn’t have been able to say it aloud, because then he’s descending and all you can feel is the wet warmth of his mouth.

He definitely doesn’t hold back this time, that much is apparent in the way he devours you, lips and tongue drawing out noises you’ve never heard yourself make, pressing his face so far into your pussy that he has to come up for air. His mouth and chin shine when you chance a look down, and when you clench on his fingers his smile goes smug at the corners.

He plants kisses along your hips, the insides of your thighs, around where his fingers are buried within you. He curls them, in search of the spot he found last time. He knows he found it when you try to close your thighs around his head and cry out. Now that he's found it, he angles to brush it on every thrust of his fingers and attaches his mouth back on your clit.

You chant his name, nearly sobbing as you approach your climax, until finally you fly over the edge. Your vision blurs and you’re not sure if you’re making any noise now, unable to hear past the blood rushing in your ears. Bucky helps you ride it out until you’re shuddering from sensitivity.

He kisses your thighs again, trailing them up your stomach and between the valley of your breasts.

“So good, did so well,” he mutters.

Weakly, you lift your hands to trace them down his toned stomach and around his back, down further so you can cop a feel of your own, smiling at his grunt of surprise.

“That was great and all,” you say, arching your back so your chest presses against his, “but I do believe I asked you to fuck me.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Who said I was done with you?” It’s apparently a rhetorical question, as he continues before you get a chance to reply. “I’m gonna fuck you until you come, and then I’m gonna keep fucking you until you come again, and only then will I come so deep inside you there’ll be zero doubt I’ve put a baby there.”

Your legs are lifted and thrown over his shoulders in a blink, his cock pushing into your pussy, dragging out a high-pitched moan from you. There’s barely a pause and then he’s fucking you, just like you asked. The pace is brutal right from the start, a steady rhythm that has you mewling and writhing in pleasure. Bucky is watching his cock as he thrusts in and out of you, his mouth hanging open slightly as he pants. He hikes your hips up a little higher and you jolt through your startled moan. This angle is divine and the telltale signs of your second orgasm start tingling at the base of your spine.

“Can feel you,” Bucky says through panting breaths, “so close. C’mon, let me feel you.”

He pulls you down on his cock, grinding into you, his thumb reaching to rub tight circles over your clit. You sob through your release, shuddering against Bucky as you clench around him. He groans, still barely moving as you come down from your high.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Come here.”

He helps you sit up, still seated on his cock, making you both hiss from your movement. Your arms automatically wrap around his shoulders and his around your waist. He kisses you so sweetly, a stark contradiction to the way he just fucked you. When you pull away, resting your foreheads together, he grins.

“Hi.”

You crack a smile. “Hi.”

“Ready for more?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You think you got it in you?” you tease as you play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

The light smack to your ass startles you and you let out a soft sound of surprise, hands tugging his hair harshly. Bucky’s eyes light up.

“Interesting,” he muses.

Another slap, a little harder than the first, and you’re whimpering, your walls clenching around his still hard cock.

“I’ll play with that later,” he promises, voice breathy.

You bury your face in his neck and start shifting your hips. He takes the hint, gathering you as close as he can and thrusts up into you. He can’t pull out as far this way, but the snap of his hips more than makes up for it. You mouth at his collarbone messily, kissing and licking your way up to his jaw, biting marks wherever you see fit. You make it up to his mouth and he kisses you, wet and filthy. You suck on his tongue and a ragged moan claws its way out of his throat. The need for air eventually has you pulling away.

“It’s a good thing you love me back,” you whisper in his ear. “Nobody else could ever compare to you.”

He growls, fisting your hair and yanking your head back to look him in the eye.

“Nobody will ever compare,” he corrects.

You moan. “Yes,” you agree, whining, “No one else could’ve given me a baby.”

Bucky thrusts harder and faster at your words. You’re picking up on a few hints and you can’t say it’s not doing it for you either.

“Filled me up so good, fucked me so well. Gonna be round with your baby soon.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he keens, hurrying to lay you flat on your back so he can fuck into you easier.

The sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, your cries of pleasure mixing in with Bucky’s grunts and curses. His grip on you tightens almost painfully as he chases both your and his orgasm. You’re sure to have bruises tomorrow and you already know you'll be poking at them to remember this moment.

“C’mon, baby, wanna feel you too,” you beg.

His thumb finds your swollen clit once more. It’s beyond sensitive now, feels like a shockwave coursing through you, and without any warning, you come. You spasm around Bucky and he swears under his breath, thrusts going sloppy. With a final groan, he comes inside you, his hips moving seemingly on their own as he draws out both your pleasures. Slowly, he comes to a stop, but he leaves his cock buried in you like he did last time.

You know you’re gonna feel too empty when he does pull out, so you don’t mind sitting like this for a while. Bucky softly runs his hands across every inch of your skin he can touch and you bask in the affection. You card your fingers through his sweaty hair, smiling when he hums happily. It takes only a minute for you to notice the way his hands migrate to your stomach, and when you do you kiss his shoulder.

“Maybe we should go again later,” you suggest faintly.

Bucky grins. “We can do it a hundred more times if you want.”

“Guess I better enjoy it while I can.”

His smile goes soft at the edges.

It’s not lost on you how incredibly crazy all of this is. There will undoubtedly be a conversation, a much needed one that isn’t going to be simple or easy, but it’s necessary.

For now, though, you bask in Bucky’s warmth and loving embrace.

***

Keys jingle as they unlock the door and you perk up where you’re sprawled on the couch. Bucky enters, arms laden with bags from the convenience store.

“They didn’t have the banana ice cream you asked for,” he announces, continuing before your pout fully forms, “but they did have the double chocolate brownie kind you love so much, so I got that, as well as the sour gummy worms, beef jerky, and fried pickles from the deli on your list of demands.”

“What about—”

“And your strawberry Fanta,” he adds with a fond, slightly exasperated smile.

You’re unable to stop your expression from going soft and dreamy.

Ever since you and Bucky figured out where to go with your relationship, he’s been even more attentive and accommodating (and that’s saying something).

You expressed your worry about the possibility of something going wrong, that one or both of you would get bored and leave, or there’d be a big fight that neither of you could forgive. He was quick to reassure you of his commitment, told you there was no way he would ever get bored of you, and that as long as you both promise to talk things out in a calm, mature way, then you’d be alright.

It all sounded so easy when it was put like that. The more you thought about it, though, the more you realized he was right. It wasn’t fair to either of you to already give up before you’d even started. So you’d taken a deep breath and leaped.

Now, you’re five and a half months in, your belly steadily growing and making everyday life increasingly uncomfortable. The changes to your body were physically and emotionally draining, to say the least. Moreso the emotional side. You’d hoped you wouldn’t be one of those pregnant women with strange cravings, and for the most part they were pretty tame, but you do like to dip your sour gummy worms in banana ice cream. Bucky didn’t attempt to hide his disgust over that.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you ask on a pleased sigh.

He places your small cornucopia of goods on the coffee table. You sit up, huffing for breath during the struggle. You go to reach for the ice cream first, but Bucky catches your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and kissing your knuckles as he kneels in front of you.

“You were yourself. Smart, kind, selfless, unbelievably sexy.” You snort at that, but he’s undeterred. “And you’re giving me the best gift I could ever dream of. A family.”

Instantly, you’re crying. He’s grown accustomed to the mood swings by now, taking it in stride as he wipes away the tears with gentle hands.

“Stop being so disgusting,” you blubber through your hiccuping cries. “You’re such an asshole.”

Bucky laughs. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

You sniffle, kissing him. “Love you,” you grumble.

He leans down and plants the softest of kisses to your belly. “And I love you, little lady.”

The idea of you having a child one day always seemed foreign and unlikely, but life has a way of turning out exactly how it’s supposed to… And you wouldn’t change a thing.

[voonroo]

Hell? [01]

⌐‣Hazbin Hotel + Bat-Like Teen Reader

Want more? Check out the masterlist↩︎

Want to chat? Check out my discord server↩︎

AUTHOR’S NOTE: YOOOOO SHOUT OUT TO @blueberrymuffin-6 FOR BEING THE FIRST PERSON TO GUESS THAT READER WOULD BE LIKE A BAT!!! I'm so happy someone picked up on my hints. I'm really excited to post this chapter considering how much love the first one got😭 THANK YOU GUYS SM FOR THE LOVE AND SUPPORT THE HAZBIN FANDOM HAS SHOWN FOR MY TEEN READER WRITINGS💝

Also I can't guarantee that there won't be triggering subjects in the future chapters!! There's nothing of that here yet and I will put warning when needed but you’ll only find something this chapter if you REALLY look.

I'd love to hear from you guys your speculations as well!! Send them through my inbox or contact me in discord!! I love interacting with you guys!!

My head hurts…

Am I lying down?

Is it raining?

Opening your eyes, you were met with a dull light to your right, everything else was dark. Rubbing your eyes, you groggily sat up.

You could see, but the light to your right was actually making it hard… You felt a light weight on your head and slight pain in your back. You looked down, you had… fur?

Taking deep breaths, you closed your eyes. You could hear everything so well. From the sound of your heart, to the rain outside.

Where am I?

How did I get here?

Considering that you couldn't remember anything, you felt strangely calm. Like a blanket was over your head and you were blocking out the world around you.

The rain was nice… soft blankets, a plushie? What was it...? It was dark? I had a flashlight, a book? And whatever the plushie was…

A sudden knock interrupted your thoughts. The noise caught you so off guard you physically jumped, you tried to look at the door as you heard the knob turning.

“Oh! You're awake!” You heard a quick patter of footsteps coming in your direction, before a blob entered your vision- or what little vision you had anyway. You couldn't make out the shape in front of you, even with your eyes wide open. There was… red? Or maybe pink? You couldn't tell. Your eyes darted around, and your breathing picked up.

“Hey now- You're all tense! What are you anyways?” The blog had a cheery voice, rather high-pitched. It hurt your ears. You could feel a small hand grab at your arm- rubbing the fur.

“Nifty!” Another sudden noise made you jump. Your body tensing up in a panic. You couldn't hear the rain anymore even if it was so close… You could only hear your heart beating quickly and your uneven breathing.

Then, there were hands cupping your face, a calm, quiet voice accompanying it.

“Hey, calm down.” On instinct, you took a deep breath. Were you holding your breath before? Or were you breathing too rapidly? Where were you again? Sitting up right? Wait- it's raining… that's right… it's raining.

“Are you okay?” The voice to the hands cupping your cheeks spoke again. You could barely focus your eyes enough to see more than just gray. Did the voice have a… wait- the voice asked me a question-

“I-I can't see…” You almost didn't recognize your own voice. It came out so quietly, hardly audible.

You could have sworn you saw the gray blob furrow their eyebrows.

“What's your name?”

“I don't… I don't know?”

The calm the voice was deemed Vaggie.

Vaggie described herself as having long grey hair, grey skin- which you initially found weird- and a pink X over her left eye.

Vaggie told you that the loud, almost squeaky voice that you first heard was Nifty. She also told you where you were and what had happened for you to be here.

You had previously run into one of their friends named… Angel Dust? And apparently, passed out? Then he brought you here, and… here is… I don't remember…

You do remember Vaggie telling you that there were other people here and they were made aware of your existence as well.

Vaggie was also kind enough to explain that you were in hell… she also took the creative liberties in describing to you what you looked like.

“Well… You did take on the appearance of a bat- which is normal, it's normal for people to take on animal-like appearances in hell. For instance, we have someone here who takes on deer antlers and someone who has fur like you but looks like a cat… But you have these ears above your head, small wing protruding from your back, and… foggy eyes-”

The two of you spent time making the connections. The big bat-like ears atop your head gave you really good hearing, and the wings on your back were the cause of your back pain, (and the fact that you had been lying on them) and your foggy eyes contributed to your lack of sight. You took on the appearance of a bat.

The two of you tried to answer Vaggie’s earlier question from before about your name, but to no avail. She had to force you to stop trying to figure it out when you started getting worked up. You did come to the conclusion that you were very young- at least very young to be in hell. Guessing that you were around 15 years of age. Maybe a little younger or maybe a little older, but it felt right enough.

Or maybe you guys had settled on that answer as you dozed back off. The rain hadn't let up and with all this new information to really process, Vaggie let you rest. The clock was growing near to striking morning anyways.

Word Count: 817

A/N: I've also made the tag #voonroo’s bat-like reader for you guys to use as well if you make any posts on it!!

[romaritimeharbor]

a platonic writer? thats so awesome!!! for the open kny slots, would it be okay to ask for a reader & giyuu found family troupe? would be nice if reader was in their teens♪ mainly about the dynamic and perhaps post final battle

ELUSIVE CARE. — In which the Water Hashira unwittingly attains a younger sibling.

— trigger & content warnings. none applicable.

— pairings & notes. fluff, found family. tomioka giyuu & teen!reader. reader is gender neutral (they/them pronouns used). 1.1k words.

— author's thoughts. giyuu's so silly. such a guy. very older brother coded tbh <3

✧ FIRST MEETING

giyuu, though a quiet and reserved soul that often believes himself to be inadequate, is certainly not a heartless man nor is he one who cares too little (perhaps it could even be argued that he cares too much). he wouldn't ever let someone die if there was something he could do to prevent it, and maybe it is killing a demon that first leads him to the little teenager that he will one day grow fond of, [name].

his first instinct is, of course, to reunite them with their family if they have any living relatives. if that is not an option, his next instinct is to send them off somewhere he knows they'll be safe—maybe urokodaki needs someone to stay with him, a companion. he's always been a good caretaker even when not training a demon slayer to-be, and surely he gets lonely in his older age..? or maybe those girls at the butterfly estate would take them—shinobu's... nice enough. to young kids, that is. not him, of course, but he doesn't dare deny her kindness towards younger ones. she would probably be more than happy to take them in, or she would be pissed that he would have the audacity to ask something like that of her... but he still believes that she would do it.

ultimately, wherever he does leave them, it's almost guaranteed that he'll encounter them again. teenagers are rarely known for being obedient; as such, he would probably find them actively seeking him out at his estate. to thank him, to simply visit and stay for a while, to bring him gifts... they aren't annoying per se, but giyuu does wonder for how long he will have to endure it before their visits lessen in number.

he did save their life, so maybe he should just accept it.

and perhaps, once the final battle has passed and the greatest threat to the world has been eliminated, he will not be so opposed to having a regular guest. maybe he'll even ask them to stay.

✧ GENERAL DYNAMIC

giyuu is not known for being open and friendly. that said, i do think he would have some kind of a soft spot for a young kid who has suffered the effects of demons roaming the earth.

maybe he sees a little of himself in them. he wasn't always this way, you know? there was a time where he was softer, more open, and had a more positive outlook about the world. so maybe, just maybe, he sees some of that in the little teenager he saved from death.

his kindness shows in weird and hard to understand ways, and he would rarely make it obvious that he was checking up on them; he probably wouldn't visit often. that said, if [name] were to ask around, maybe they would hear about a recent influx of letters from a certain water hashira concerning a certain victim he recently saved.

as he grows closer to them, he would begin to buy them little trinkets. if he sees something he thinks they would like, he would totally pick it up for them and leave it by their room's door at wherever they're staying. he never signs the gifts, but it is nonetheless very clear who is buying them.

he also does what he can to ensure that they're well-cared for—contributing to the cost of caring for them, mainly.

giyuu, to me, seems like a very attentive person. he's a type i would describe as having a quiet love language—someone who does things subtly (more or less). so, while he does not verbally connect with them often, he can offer a listening ear and will always pick up on the small things.

headpats. giyuu is a headpat man. it's a fond gesture that he uses to communicate a number of things—'i'm proud of you,' 'good job,' 'you're alright now,' 'i'm here for you.' it's one way he communicates nonverbally. he's not great at expressing his care with words, but there are plenty of ways such as this one that are more than sufficient without the use of any words at all.

given that his haori is made up of two halves, each from someone he deeply cared for, i think it's safe to say that he has a certain sentimentality about him. any gifts they give to him will be treasured (and if they happen to give him something he can wear without getting in the way of his job, he'll find a way to incorporate it into his uniform).

he's quite fiercely protective of them. if someone is bothering them, giyuu is more than happy to simply stand behind them and give the one annoying them a simple stare, which is more than enough to solve the issue permanently. as a hashira, the lower ranked corps members are already rather scared of him, so he doesn't really have to do much at all to deter anyone from harassing them...

on a similar note, he will put extra care and attention into killing off any demons lingering around the area that they reside in. he's failed so many people before and is not keen on doing so again.

he would very much prefer if they didn't become a demon slayer, especially after his relationship with them has developed a little more. any attempts to ask him about joining would be cut off with a short, firm 'no.' though, with enough insistence... that answer could change.

ultimately, what they do is up to them, but giyuu would prefer that they stay as far out of harm's way as possible. not every victim is meant to, nor do they have to, become a demon slayer—he hopes they know and understand that above all else.

✧ POST-FINAL BATTLE

following the end of the final battle, giyuu would be a little more open with them in quite a few ways.

for one, he's more expressive, offering them something other than his usual stoicism every now and then—a smile. his expression in general softens significantly in their presence once everything is over.

he also grows a little more comfortable expressing himself verbally with them. he's still not exactly... articulate when it comes to expressing his care with words, but it's the thought and effort that counts.

he would also move them into his home at that point!! since he doesn't have to be away constantly now, he feels more comfortable having them stay with him. before, if a demon had showed up to his secluded estate while he was gone, it may have very well ended poorly, had they been staying there. given that this is no longer a concern (and he's also home far more often now), he doesn't mind the company whatsoever.

post-final battle, he would also spend more time around them. it would be then that they would really get to know him. his hobbies, his interests, maybe his past. eventually.

things take time. opening up takes time... and once muzan has been defeated, there is plenty of time for them to get closer with their elusive older brother-like figure.

please consider supporting me if you enjoyed! the best ways to do so are as follows: comments, asks, reblogs, and reblogs with tags.

[twistedcrumbs2]

Just an intrusive thought to add to the series of random ideas that strike me throughout the day—this time while working out to the most chaotic playlist you can imagine.

A workout routine with Jack!

Maybe you’ve suddenly found yourself dropped into another world, surrounded by traumatized and slightly unhinged students (or completely unhinged, depending on how you look at it), all while trying to survive the chaos of an insane school semester. Naturally, you’ve barely had any time to care for yourself. Just maybe.

Then, during one of Professor Vargas’ motivational lectures—peppered with lines like “Exercise is essential for self-care! Just look at me!” and “A healthy mind lives in a healthy body!”—a thought crosses your mind: “Alright, one hour of exercise a day won’t kill me… probably.”

To be fair, realizing you can’t even chase Grim around the dorm without gasping for air and nearly collapsing was the final push you needed. Something had to change—and fast.

The problem? You have no idea where to start. After mulling it over, you decide to drop by the athletic club. Watching others train might give you a clue (or, let’s be real, trigger some anxiety—there are a lot of sweaty guys in short shorts, after all).

As soon as you arrive, the first familiar faces you spot are Jack and Deuce, who immediately look at you like you’ve just fallen out of the sky (which, admittedly, isn’t far from the truth).

After some chatting, you explain why you’re there. Jack, much to your surprise, seems more excited about your decision than you are.

And let’s be honest—given his physique, it’s no shock that the wolf beastman is the living embodiment of a gym rat. As you ramble about wanting to get into shape, his tail swishes back and forth, his subtle smile betraying just how thrilled he is.

— That’s great. If you need anything, just let me know, — he offers sincerely.

And, of course, you take him up on it. Jack is easily the most dedicated person you know when it comes to fitness, and more importantly, he’s kind enough not to expect something outrageous in return.

But it’s a terrible decision.

Not because Jack is bad at helping—quite the opposite. He’s an incredible instructor: patient, committed, and always willing to lend a hand. The issue is that you were expecting something easy. A casual evening stroll, maybe some jumping jacks. Nope.

Instead, Jack shows up that very weekend with a detailed workout plan, complete with an intimidating ABCD schedule (whatever that means), exercises with weird names, and—worst of all—one hour of cardio every day.

Yes, he genuinely wants you to run for an hour. Every day. You’ve seen him jogging past your window before sunrise, but you never thought you’d be dragged into it too.

To make matters worse, some of the exercises sound downright absurd.

— Bent-over barbell rows? — you ask, staring at the workout sheet like it’s written in an alien language. — Do we need to find a boat for this?

Jack chuckles softly and replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world: — No, just a barbell. I’ll show you.

The first few days are brutal. By 8 PM, you’re practically falling asleep on your feet, and your muscles are so sore that walking through the hallways feels like a challenge. But oddly enough, your mornings start to feel a little more structured. Despite the physical exhaustion, Jack’s company makes everything worth it.

During your sessions, you chat about all sorts of things. He even shares tips on improving your diet—always as gentle suggestions, never pushy.

It’s honestly adorable. Hard to believe this is the same guy who nearly kills you with his workouts.

Of course, there are moments of pure misery. Like the time he introduced you to burpees—an exercise that can only be described as modern-day torture. But in the end, the support and camaraderie you share with Jack turn the grueling routines into something almost… enjoyable. Almost.

Jack seems genuinely excited about your commitment. After all, what gym rat wouldn’t want a workout buddy? But it’s more than that. He enjoys your company and takes pride in helping you improve. He even goes out of his way to ensure you’re safe and don’t overdo it.

When you try to slack off—cut a set short or cheat on your form—he sighs heavily and says firmly: — You’re only cheating yourself, not me.

It’s giving strict dad energy.

Yet, he’s also incredibly perceptive. When you get frustrated or demotivated—like the time you stopped mid-run, gasping for air—Jack slows down and walks beside you, encouraging you to keep going at your own pace.

Beyond the workouts, Jack introduces small healthy habits into your daily routine. He reminds you to carry a water bottle, stretches with you before class, and even brings homemade protein bars. He insists they’re nothing special, but you’re convinced he blushed when you complimented how good they were.

As the days pass, you start to notice small improvements—not just in your stamina but also in how much easier your mornings feel. The group grows, too, with Epel, Sebek, and occasionally Deuce joining in. It’s chaotic but oddly fun.

Training with Jack isn’t just about getting fit. It’s about building a deeper connection with him. Because let’s face it—nothing bonds two people like suffering through a set of crunches at six in the morning, right?

Final verdict: 8/10 experience. Exercising is still a nightmare, but Jack makes it bearable.

[aztarion]

If Sol is an anxiety-riddled cheetah, what sort of person or thing or addition to her (un)life would have the same effect on her that an emotional support puppy has on a cheetah?

ive been thinking about this and not getting anywhere j and im pretty sure it’s meant as no nuance but we’ve established im an overthinker v_v so i rambled for a while below, hopefully it’s entertaining LOL. i focused way too much on the relationships. tbh it could be her brother if she ever reunited with him

it’s so hard to pick out one particular thing or person or addition and keep it realistic!!! i’d otherwise say it was Julian during the fledgling years, but she didn’t have much in the way of anxiety then, not like it is now, and he was also partially responsible for what brought about triggering/exacerbating it in the first place. but initially what they had, if you could lift that younger slightly less bold Julian to replace present Julian, might have that effect on her

in some weird way i think Sol subconsciously likes being kept on the fringe or razors edge of her nerves in some twisted strain of excitement; ive been toying with this as a manifestation of her beast. so maybe she would vore a traditional therapy dog and sit there shaking and whimpering like she’s the victim 🧐

i’ve mentioned before she gets on really well with Elena and enjoys her dry presence and quiet competence and absolute loyalty, but the fact of what’s unnaturally behind that loyalty spikes anxiety if Sol dwells on it — Sol is also VERY protective and worries about everyone she has a connection with. she would develop feelings for the therapy dog. whatever it might be in this analogy, it would have to be some sort of stronger kindred/supernatural for her to have any peace of mind

so… Lettow comes closest in that regard, but i still don’t think Sol would be happy for other reasons. his demeanor, strength and reliability has the most inwardly calming effect on her — like a truly strange solid steadying comfort over a period of months that grow insanely chaotic. he offers comfort, forgiveness, acceptance, support — all the things she thinks she wants or needs. it’s interesting to me that in the base text a lot of his touches and embraces are described as being either ‘grounding’, ‘protective’ or ‘lingering’ because Sol often feels like she’s drowning — in guilt, in Aila’s memories, in loneliness, in purposelessness, in her own maddeningly unsatisfied hunger. like meeting earth after years at sea. he has big taurus energy to her underdeveloped scorpio. (contrastingly Julian’s are described as unexpected or split-second and leaving her off-balance… but again i think Sol actually likes that)

maybe Lettow could help her heal past Aila but i don’t think Sol would give herself that chance for forgiveness. and while she comes to really love and care for him despite the confusion Aila’s stirring brings, and her own impulsive feelings and actions, i don’t think she’s IN love with Lettow :( he doesn’t inspire or excite or wildly frustrate her like Julian does. so maybe that does make Lettow a good emotional support puppy… Sol needs a pet elder kindred just chilling in the background with a panama hat being extremely accepting of her stupidity to feel normal i guess. im thinking his willingness to forgive what she’s done would eat at her forever though, to a point that’s just utterly dissociative. and that’s not fair to Lettow; he doesn’t deserve another gf tapping out on him

present-and-post-night road Julian…sigh

Julian has this constant dichotomy of idealism and hypocrisy, patience and cool calculative manipulation. he would be that one therapy dog that wasn’t screened for occasionally barking unexpectedly and roughhousing. so like he’s very good for her in some ways and terribly triggering in others but now the cheetah is attached to him so everyone (me) is hesitant to take him out of the enclosure

more than anything Julian offers her assurance in his intelligence, adaptability, his purpose — and the purpose he gives her, which Sol can’t put to words. it’s less about providing a calming presence and more about inspiring and challenging her. he’s like enrichment LOL. more akin to a partner in adventure and crime rather than strictly emotional support, but i think Sol would end up heading in Aila’s direction without Julian stirring shit up for her

as for the emotional support… ok this is where i retreat to my fanfic but Marquis definitely threw a big bone at the end of Julian’s romance. they have a very deep connection; the sire-childe bond, were best friends/lovers/attached at the hip for a decade, he brings out the best (and worst) in her but he helps her discover herself… i think it’s special and could work as a foundation. of course ultimately the effectiveness depends on the progression of their relationship and the trust rebuilding between them post-night road, but i see that as a possibility. when Sol tentatively decides to help with Julian’s plan for the SI and 2100 long term instead of Lettow, something big is bridged there — in the ending scene with romanced Julian he in turn offers Sol half of the reigns on the program and lets her call the shots with whatever happens with the death cult in Monterrey, as well as joining her in the field. i love Kyle for doing that lmao… it’s a really nice moment that hints at Julian being willing to work to rebuild the relationship and trust between them instead of what you get in night road when neither of them wholly trust each other and are loathe to keep it 100. once Julian knows she’s in, he’s down, no holds barred. i think they'd both be for the long haul, in good and probably still some bad and very imperfect ways but that keeps it interesting

THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK <3333 THANK YOU J <333

[everlasting-rainfall]

AU called Yandere Society where basically it’s a world where our definition of normal love like bringing roses and being romantic and junk like that is seen as weird while things like murder, stalking, and creepy love notes are seen as the norm

Murder and a lot of crimes are legal in this world under specific circumstances like “Did you kill your darling? Jail” “Did you kill that man who was staring too long at your darling? Understandable, you’re innocent”. There probably is a better way to describe it but for now, I feel that works the best. Oh yeah! Also sex in public is legal as long as there are no minors around

There are also these people called Abnormals who find Yandere Love to be repulsive and creepy despite it being the societal norm, Abnormals only want to experience the type of normalized love from our world and are in constant danger as if they’re discovered then they get hit with a slew of things like “You can’t have these types of jobs” or “Mandated therapy” plus they tend to get harassed a lot and oddly seem to attract Yandere’s quite a lot

Abnormals can actually be “cured” though as if you give them enough therapy or even manage to pair them with just the right person, they’ll either develop Stockholm Syndrome or become a Yandere themselves

I NEED MORE !!! I’m already interested in this au , I wonder how will yandere strawhats react that there darling is a abnormal 👀🤔🙏

please if your not busy 💗

So flower friend, I actually am working on something like that at the moment. I currently have three of the Straw Hats done for it and I’m going to include Jinbei with it as well but not Chopper as he’s baby and underage

It’s not going to be done for a long time though as I’m working hard on it and Yandere Society can be hard for me to write at times especially if I’m having problems getting motivated

In the meantime, allow me to explain some things about the Yandere Society a bit better than I did last time…

!-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT-!

!-POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS-!

Murder, Crime, Violence, Implied Blood and Gore, Abuse Mention, Harassment, Potential Similarities to Homophobia (?), Public Sex, Noncon

!-POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS-!

!-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT-!

So as I said a lot of crimes in Yandere Society are perfectly legal under certain circumstances like you can kill someone but unless you had a “good” reason for doing so then you’re going to jail

Like the following things are innocent crimes in the eyes of the law in Yandere Society

A Yandere killed someone who was actively trying to harm their relationship with their Darling like seducing and trying to get them to cheat, it’s also innocent if the victim was trying to help the Darling escape their Yandere unless the Yandere was actively putting the Darlings life in danger

A Yandere killed someone who hurt their Darling, the Yandere will also be seen as innocent if they helped another Yandere kill someone that hurt their Darling or if the Yandere was saving the Darling from an abusive situation by killing the Abused Darling’s Yandere

I feel like that’s a good example and I hope it was easy to follow now here are examples of some of the things that will get you locked up in Yandere Society

So if a Yandere kills their Darling whether their S/O was a Yandere or Abnormal, that will get the guilty Yandere locked up tight and cause them to never see the light of day again, the only exception to this is if the Guilty Yandere had no other choice or it was an accident

If the Yandere goes on to kill everyone in their Darling’s life like friends and family, that’s seen as ridiculous in the eyes of the law in Yandere Society as most people are Yandere’s too and would approve of the relationship, the only exception to this is if it were to protect their Darling

I hope that these were good examples and that they were easy to follow

As for Abnormals, Abnormals aren’t allowed to do a lot of things as I said and it’s by law mandated that they have to attend therapy in order to turn them into Yandere’s like everyone else and this therapy isn’t too bad as it’s just sitting down and having a conversation like there’s no electroshock or anything like that, maybe a few exercises but nothing too intense

Abnormals typically hide the fact that they’re Abnormals as they don’t want anyone to find out as if they do, there’s that mandated therapy thing but they also get a ton of restrictions like they can’t have certain jobs

If you are a known Abnormal in Yandere Society, you are not allowed to be the following. Teacher of Any Kind, Any Sort of Government Job, Any Sort of Job involving Mental Health. Also you can’t attend college but Abnormals have been known to sneak in and attend

The harassment that an Abnormal can face is usually based on Yandere’s stalking them and being after them as they attract Yandere’s more easily than other Yandere’s do but it’s also from the government as well as you’re likely to get way more mail to encourage you to just accept a Yandere into your life or become one

But this will all change the second that an Abnormal either develops Stockholm Syndrome for a Yandere or becomes a Yandere themselves

Also Two Abnormals are not allowed to be in a relationship, if they wish to do so then they will need to hide it from the public as it’s illegal like I don’t think you’ll straight up be sent to prison over it but you will be forcefully separated

As for how someone can tell if someone is a Yandere, typically these Yandere tendencies make themselves known in early childhood and it can be tested by trying to take their toys or watching how they interact with friends but the best way is to have them take a test which depending on how they did can tell you if they’re a Yandere or an Abnormal

There are late bloomers in Yandere Society who don’t show any Yandere Tendencies until they’re older but the test can distinct between a full Abnormal or a Late Bloomer

There’s also this thing that me and a friend came up with called Yvette Newgate Syndorme and it’s where someone has experienced something or a string of events that led to them not being able to process their Yandere feelings properly and it leads to things like this

“Hey, do you like this thing?” “Yes” “Do you want this thing?” “Yes” “Ok then take it” “Nevermind” “Ok then I’m taking it” “No, give it to me… It’s mine and you can’t have it…” “Ok, here” “Nevermind”

There is therapy for it but so far, it hasn’t really been successful like it’s helped but there’s been no real breakthroughs like there have been for Abnormals

Also for the sex in public thing, that’s perfectly acceptable and seen as completely legal like no one bats an eye if they see people having sex in public

No one even gives too much of a shit if it’s a Yandere with an Abnormal unless the Abnormal belongs to a different Yandere as if that’s the case then people are stepping in and law enforcement will be called

Besides that, it’s very illegal if its done where minors can see you as well

As for other things, it’s actually not uncommon for someone to just be sitting in on a business call with a bunch of other people meanwhile they’re being ruthlessly fucked by their partner like they’re naked with private parts potentially on full display and no one bats an eye

Just remember to mute your microphone as it’s seen as very rude to not do so and if you’re asked a question then you’re allowed to unmute to answer it probably while moaning but afterwards you have to mute again

Plus if you’re being fucked in a video call then it might encourage other people to start getting it on with their partners and will potentially weed out the Abnormals in the workplace as they’ll be the only ones who look uncomfortable with it

Anyways I think that’s all! I’ll attempt to put out the Yandere Straw Hat thing soon but no promises! Have a good day and I hope that I was able to explain things well!

[avpdpossum]

avoidance is so weird because it’s so temptingly easy to pretend it’s not there when it’s not at its absolute worst.

when i’m at my lowest, my avoidance becomes volatile and dangerous — it means almost daily mental breakdowns, it means probably wanting to hurt myself or worse, it’s means things are bad bad. but times like now? where i’m in a better place and i don’t have to interact with people often enough to trigger it too badly? it’s easy to pretend i’m fine.

and that’s not because i don’t have symptoms — there’s a big glaring reason i don’t have a job yet, that i stay in the house pretty much every day and (aside from the family i live with) only ever see my safe person, that there’s a million important doctor calls i haven’t made yet, that i have my name change papers all ready to go but haven’t changed any of my documents yet. the avoidance is obviously still there and still causing problems, and i know my life doesn’t look how it should.

but because it’s not destroying my default mental state right now, it feels like i’m lying to myself and i’m totally mentally healthy and i have nothing to worry about. and when i see my therapist, the way i describe things sounds like there’s nothing going wrong in my life because there’s no active bad shit, just a lot of things that aren’t happening. and how do you quantify the absence of something?

how do i explain that the problem isn’t that i’m unhappy, it’s not that there’s bad things to fix, it’s just that most of the time, there’s nothing at all? that i’m mostly happy because i don’t have much of a life right now, and if i were to get my life to a better place from a practical standpoint i would almost definitely be thrown back into a worse mental state?

i’m trying to find a balance that allows me to have a decent life and decent mental health, but god, it’s hard to do when it would be so much easier and less exhausting to just stay stagnant forever and hold onto the relative peace that comes with that.

[e-claire]

Misophonia sucks so fucking hard and no one anywhere ever wants to talk about it. Literally the only people I've ever had listen to me about my Misophonia are other people with Misophonia. So fuck it, Misophonia Awareness Post or something, I want to vent.

Allow me to describe what it is first for all the lucky people who aren't fucked over. Misophonia is likely an Audio-Processing Disorder (Potentially some form of Synesthesia) in which certain sounds trigger a fight or flight reaction. Trigger sounds can vary and sometimes after long term exposure it can create a reaction to the visuals associated with those sounds. It is possibly genetic, there is no known cause, there is no known treatment, there is only suffering and ways of generally kind of reducing that suffering. When I hear people chewing I am filled with a rage that can only be described as "Bordering on a primal desire to Kill." and there's nothing I can do about that. A family member or friend takes a bite of something crunchy and I have to sit there and exist with thoughts of pounding their fucking skull into paste with my bare god damn hands and then afterwards I have to go back to "being normal". I have to just pretend that didn't happen, I can't do anything with those emotions, I can't put them anywhere, I can't talk about them with anyone or gain any understanding or sympathy from others for having them.

When I see someone chewing food anymore it's borderline impossible for me to remain in the room with them for any more than a few seconds because the mere sight of them chewing makes me physically ill and inspires in me a sense of deep disgust and panic that I could never ever hope to describe.

I tell people about what it's like and I get one of four reactions :

"Oh I think I have that too" With a weird amount of curious excitement at the concept of having a fun new quirky thing to mention in conversations. This means that they don't have it, and they'll then proceed to list off a couple different things that literally no human being likes to hear and how much that thing "annoys them". This makes me want to kill myself.

"Wow, Yikes." Through a grimace. This means I was too open about how it makes me feel and they now think i'm a either a freak, liability, time bomb, or over-dramatic, and will do everything they can to avoid the subject in the future so that I can't make them uncomfortable. This makes me want to kill them AND myself.

Immediately eats something really loudly to set me off as a "joke". This means that they're an obnoxious piece of shit that I have to try my absolute hardest not to beat to death with my bare hands. This makes me want to kill them, if that wasn't already obvious.

"Oh. So that's what this is called." This means they have it, and we can both engage in a brief period of mutual trauma sharing that helps us know we're not alone, and that our curse is unfortunately shared with others. This makes us both somewhat melancholy, and kinda ruins the vibes until something fun happens.

And then we get into the "How do you make the pain stop", and good news! You can't. There is no way to make it stop. But you can make it hurt less with ✨Spending Unbearable Amounts of Cash✨

You can buy a billion different types of earplugs that will all do great at muting the world but always leave you incredibly unaware of the world around you and leave you fucked in-terms of listening to media.

You can buy normal headphones that will kind of work but never mute the world around you anywhere near enough and vaguely frustrate you constantly, but hey at least you're a bit more accessible! Try combining these with a combination of rain and static noise playing at all times in the background for an extra layer of silence :)

You can buy ANC headphones that cost infinitely too much money and are almost always built to break so that they can farm cash from you in repairs, but the ANC is so useful despite not working perfectly that you can't really exist without it so you're gonna spend 200+ dollars every couple years because you don't have a choice, and spend every single day 24/7 wearing hot heavy over-ear headphones! Use the Rain and Static Noise combo with this as well for the best ANC effect.

And inevitably, all of these options will give you hearing problems, potentially make you aware of new trigger sounds, and always leave you a step behind everyone else when a conversation happens. Pro-Tip : For when the sounds are really intrusive and you're on the verge of a breakdown, Combine ANC with Ear Plugs and the R&SN background audio to basically kill noise in it's entirety for a little while :)

AND NOW WE GET TO THE PART WHERE I SAY WHAT THE FUCK CAN YOU NORMIES DO TO MAKE OUR SUFFERING LESS FUCKING CONSTANT.

Listen to us. Don't ostracize us for experiencing emotions we can't control and don't mean or want to act on. If you can, try your best to do the trigger noises quietly, and try your best not to do the trigger visuals in-front of us. We know it's not something you can control entirely, but if you can make the effort to make our lives suck less, we'll really fucking appreciate it.

And if you try to get back at us during a fight by eating something really crunchy to abuse our disorder for your benefit, I swear to god I will hunt you down personally and subject you to the most violent and painful torture I can manage before killing you and hiding your body somewhere no one will ever find it so that your loved ones never have the closure of knowing if you died or if you're still somewhere out there. Thanks for reading even though I know you didn't because the length of this post is frankly unhinged and i'll probably only get like 2 likes at best.

[ilovefoodandslasherswithmasks]

So I had an idee for a cute Eddie x reader ff, and I had to write it, so I'm sorry the requests haven't really been doing it for me. But I promise I'll do my best to write and post those next♡ I just really, really needed to write this. This will also be a series in the future. Less likely to be spicy I think I'll keep this one wholesome 🦦

Reader is described as feminine. But if you want just imagine something different, like different clothes etc. Ummm basically strangers to friends to enemies to friends.

Y/n used a few times and will be used in the next parts as well.

More to come. There's some slight angst but mostly it's quite cute. Also some inappropriate thinking and actions of side characters. But nothing to triggering.

Lab Partners.

Experiment: crush or love?

Coming to Hawkins was weird.

You weren't only a very unique person, but your style differed from most people.

Not only that, you weren't a rude person, not a popular girl or smth like that.

Both nice or rude when you thought was fitting, first approach was always nice and gentle. If someone didn't deserve it you made all hell break lose.

Walking into high school was weird.

Glances from the shadows, the quiet kids hoping you'd be taking their place as a punching bag.

Jocks and other group of guys, showing zero shame checking you out.

Wearing a low waist pair of jeans, a slightly cropped, long sleeve shirt. Your hair styled the way you enjoyed. Not the type to go for those trends like the perm.

Walking past a group of metal heads who punched eachothers arms when you smilled gently. Typical honestly. Cute but basic.

Making your way to the head teachers office, who by the way, was a friend of your parents, much to your dismay cause he'd give you 'special attention' for the next year.

Huffing in exhaustion when you left his office with your schedule, locker number and all the shit you needed to survive around here.

"Old freak.." you mumbled as you looked for your locker.

Lost. Honestly so lost. How could a locker be so hard to find? Yeah well apparently these lockers had no numbers on them.

"Greattt" you say staring at the lockers on the wall.

"Where the hell is number 69....seriously he gave me 69? Out of all the lockers he gives me the one locker that will give me more unwanted attention?" You grumble as you walk down the hall, decided to leave the locker for later and to try to find your first class. Fucking science...

A groan left you when you walked straight into the wrong hallway.

"Oh come on!" You loudly exclaim turning to walk the other way to come face to face with some curly headed guy. Shit was he hot?

"Uhm....you new huh?" He asked. Did his voice have a rasp?

"Uh yeah can't find science class....or my locker..or the girls toilets to escape through the window." You say. Soon feeling embarrassed about the words you let out. You could've flirted but noooo.

"Mh well I'm headed for science....maybe I can help you with the locker problem..but the girls- well the toilets Don't got windows..so your great escape won't happen" he said playing with a strand of hair, his arms slightly folded over his chest as he stared and started to tug at his bottom lip after dropping the hair....gosh..

"Thanks" you say as he walks ahead. You follow silently. Seriously you couldn't get the guts you usually had to ask him questions? Not even his name.

You sigh as you step into the class he found a seat as did you, seated at the free tables. Next to you was an empty chair. Which would probably stay empty.

You could hear the whispers and whistles when you sat down. The teacher came in, a women. Cool.

"Hello Class I'm Miss Newcas. I'm your science teacher for the year. First I'd like to ask you all to find a lab partner for today's lesson!"

Great, great fucking great. You probably won't find a lab mate. All people started to bustle around. You thought no one would wanna sit with you the way they seemed to do with the cute guy...but the jocks started to shove eachother trying to get the seat next to you. Right. See how easy the new girl is and who gets her first. Great.

At that thought you grab your bag and books and make your way to the curly heads table, casually sitting down next to him the entire class falling silent.

You could feel him stare at you as you placed your books down, zipping your bag up to grab your pencil case.

You sat back up straight, turning to him finally smiling brightly.

"Ohh right the names Y/n" with a gentle smile and a little tug of hair behind your ear he introduced himself back faintly and quietly.

"Eddie.."

"Mh nice to get to be your lab partner today Eddie"

A few hushed whispers about how being around him would be your doom reached your ears but you didn't care.

Miss Newcas was busy writing something down.

"Okay, so I know some of you didn't get to partner with who you wanted to. And I lied. Your Lab mate will stay your lab mate for the rest of the year. And before you try to change seats or something I'll have you know I wrote down your names and who you're seated with..oh new girl I need your name."

She said gently, she was sweet but you just knew she could be a pain. Or so, the rest of the students here,felt that way about her.

"It's Y/n" you almost grew anxious when a guy moaned your name. Obviously the people here, well the boys, were the same as in every school.

"Okay. Nice to meet you! I hope you find yourself to enjoy coming to school here."

"Thanks." Not wanting to engage to much with her knowing it would make you the teachers pet right away. First day, no need for that.

When Miss Newcas vanished for a second you felt a gentle nudge from your lab mate.

"You really shouldn't be my lab Partner..trust me, no good comes from it"

"Why?"

"I'm not called Eddie the freak for nothing."

"Ohhh so people like to pick on you? Okay so what does that have to do with me wanting to be your lab partner? You've been nice to me right away."

"That's not-"

"Hey Y/n!" One of the jocks called from the back.

"If you want a good time The Freak ain't the one to go to!" You smiled sweetly at him as you turn to look at the guy.

"Oh yeah? I'm already having a better time talking to him than I do with you after just one sentence. I feel rather disgusted by your voice!" You say all cheery which gains a lot of surprised gasps and also some giggles from the rest of the class. It wasn't usual for someone to stand up or straight up reject and humble one of the popular people.

"Frankly 'the freak' turns out to be nicer than you even though I only talked so little to him.

I suppose you really are who you hang out with"

With that you turn back to Eddie, about to ask him more about him but a metal plate with a frog is placed infront of you. Which makes you tense..you thought this shit was only for the younger kids to do?

"So today you'll be dissecting a frog and then you and your lab partner will write down the words on the lines. Like where's the heart and all. We're gonna do this so I see what level you're on."

You take a deep breath as you started to bounce your right leg. Nervous, the teacher started to hand out the scalpels. One per table..and she gave it to you.

"The person I handed the scalpel to has to be the one to open the frog. The other one then gets to find the organs and say where each is. The one who cut the frog will write down the words on the lines. "

Your hand tremble as you looked at the frog, you're not made for this shit! You didn't care about gore in movies..but this shit. Nuh uh.

"You okay?" Eddie asked gently looking at you playing with the pick around his neck.

"Yeah..just this goes against what I believe in-"

"What?"

"I'm sorry that was a lie I'm just..I can't do this"

You could hear the teacher say the directions on how to place the scalpel and how deep to cut. Also told a lot of students to use the gloves that she handed out for a reason.

You placed the scalpel down grabbing the gloves and pulling them on. Stretching your fingers before picking up the blade again. Breathing coming to a stop as you held it over the frog.

"I can't...fuck.."

You flinch when his right hand wraps itself around yours. Your head whips to look at Eddie who gently looks at you.

"Close your eyes..keep them closed till I tell you to open them" usually you found it hard to trust but for some reason, you trusted this stranger. You imidiatly closed your eyes, turning your head slightly. A jolt of disgust coursing through you when you felt the skin first create a feeling of a certain resistance making it awfully aware that the blade was pushing into skin, a surface keeping it away from the guts before it suddenly penetrated the frog. Pushing in and slicing down. Shit was it off putting.

"Okay" he gently said letting go of your hand when he placed it back on the table.

You drop the scalpel onto the plate, taking off the gloves, wiping the sweat on your jeans before you grab the pencil and just stare at the paper.

"Okay so um, line one is the lungs..line two the heart" scribbling down what he said not even glancing at the frog. Glad Eddie didn't mind it. He even went and covered the frog with paper towels after the paper had all the required words on the right lines.

Surprised to know that all the words found the right lines. I mean no offense you expected him not to get them all right.

When the bell finally rang you grabbed your stuff, Eddie waited.

"You don't need to wait for me"

"Need to show you your locker sweets"

"Right!"

Sweets...the hell did that make you feel your heart throb. Surely, he was attractive but you wouldn't start crushing..right?

He leads you to your locker after the snort he let out when you gave him the number.

Which had you call him childish. But really it made it a bit more bearable to be new here. A first friend, on the first day.

Just as he was bout to 'leave you to it' you couldn't help yourself.

"Hey um..would you like to go see a movie this weekend? Like uh as a thanks for whatever that was"

"Oh, nah don't worry you don't got to thank me"

Ouch, you felt your smile drop slightly, this felt a lot like imidiate rejection.

"Oh okay..well I'll see you around then" smiling a little brighter again before turning to head to English class. You were just grateful he explained how to find your way around school. You couldn't possibly manage the awkward silence of him leading you to class after he shut you down.

When Eddie realized how that must have sounded like he turned to call after you but you had already vanished down the hall.

"Way to screw things over with a cute girl.." he mumbled before finding his own class.

The rest of the day was fine. Turns out both you and Eddie had history together as well as ethics. Which was nice. Also a bit weird because you tried to avoid him which made those classes a bit uncomfortable.

Let's just say you got to know new people, you befriended a girl named Chrissy, who first you were scared might be mean given she's a cheerleader. But you found yourself to be wrong after she stood up for you to one of the other cheerleaders.

One thing leed to another. Here you were conversing with the popular kids. Hanging with Chrissy and her boyfriend and friends in lunch, totally not fitting in but also quiet at peace at the table with them.

Well before Eddie said something over the entire cafeteria that stuck to you.

"Or the popular guys, betting who gets to screw the new girl first!"

You didn't expect that from him..I mean yeah you kinda ignored him outside of classes and found a new crowd..but that really hurt.

The moment those words echoed over the cafeteria you tensed, Jason screamed back telling him to fuck off. But you just got up and walked out of the cafeteria, Chrissy called after you but you really couldn't care right now.

The week finally ended and the weekend started, Chrissy called you up asking you to come to the mall with her which you gladly accepted. You needed some therapy shopping.

Surprised when she told you she didn't want to go with any of her other friends because they seemed judging even around her. The entire 8 hours the both of you spent laughing and whispering about boys,went by fast. She learned you thought Eddie was cute, but that you grew sad when he called that thing the other day.

Which turns out she was also surprised by saying that wasn't his style.

The day ended with the both of you getting ice cream before she dropped you off at home. Now another day till Monday.

Till science class..till Eddie Munson.

Trying to push away the feeling of betrayal as you wash the new clothes. And put away the new cds.

You ended up doing your homework, your window open as Mötley Crüe blasted through your room. (As you noticed. I like this band lmao, so now, you do too)

You hung up the new clothes to dry a few hours later. Grabbing the new, red dress that was thigh long, and had an extra layer of mesh on top that had light lacy like details. It was pretty. It also looked great on you, Chrissy loudly swooned when you left the changing room to show it to her. Honestly it made you blush. You weren't particularly used to supportive friends.

You found sleep harder than usual. When the morning showed through your blinds you found yourself wanting to call Chrissy and to hang out. But you also didn't want to seem clingy so you set your phone back down. Hours later she actually called first asking to get some cafe cause she had a bad fight with her mother.

You obviously didn't say no, so now you both sat in a cute and cozy Café talking about what happened. Chrissy kept apologizing for bothering you but you insisted you were happy she trusted you with it.

When you returned home from the hours of talking and the last conversation about you both not knowing what to wear to school which resulted in her insisting for you to wear your new dress and that she'd wear the green one that she got.

Not really matching but she wanted you to shine when you encountered Eddie in class tomorrow. Just for the reason of 'showing him you didn't care'.

Monday came way faster, the night you basically passed out after drinking lavender tea.

So the morning showed up to make you anxious. Mostly because you didn't want him to think you dropped him for the popular kids. But then again you were to proud and hurt to talk to him. And you probably wouldn't talk to him in class too.

You got ready and slipped on the dress adding some fitting sneakers to it to keep it from looking to chic.

The bus ride to school was alright, less students than usual, your headphones on as the sun burned against your skin already.

Today would be warm.

When you made it to your locker, pushing past the crowd. Which seemed to have gotten more since last week.

Ignoring the way some boys barked compliments after you as you headed to science. You honestly wanted only one guys compliments..and it made you feel more pathetic that you still cared what he thought. Well he made it clear what he thought. So when you made it to class. Walking through the door to see the table empty you let out the air that got stuck in your chest. Sitting down grabbing your pencil, doodling in your text book before you heard someone stumble into the chair next to you, glancing over he stood next to you awkwardly holding the chair keeping it from crashing onto the ground. You roll your eyes, mostly unwillingly before you turn your head away. Staring out the window, twirling your pen in your fingers, you could feel him stare and hear him clear his throat, you also hear him sigh when he didn't get your attention.

Eddie felt bad for what he barked over the cafeteria, at the same time he was to proud to apologize. He also felt like he got replaced by the other people way to fast.

He didn't know you actually looked forward to science till he did that.

Miss Newcas walked in pushing the projector before she looked over the class. She noticed the 'weird behavior' between the two of you and she honestly didn't know why she felt upset. You seemed to be a good influence on Eddie, she didn't remember the last time he actually cared about his lab partner. So she decided to chance the entire lesson.

"Okay so...today you'll get to know your lab mate. It seems some people here don't seem to fond of eachother. Maybe that'll change when you get to know one another and see the other as more human. I want you to write 10 likes and dislikes on a paper. I'll check if you did it. Then I want you to keep the paper for the rest of the year so you and your lab mate actually get along for the time."

Seriously? Today of all days? The sigh you released ended up louder and sounding more annoyed than you had planed. You shifted in your seat looking at him to see him already staring at you. Tapping his pen against the sheet of paper he seemed to think.

"You ask me first" is all you say before he sits up straighter. Starting to ask you stuff like your favorite color. Hobbies etc.

He felt more than happy hearing you enjoyed Mötley Crües music, he started to believe maybe he could fix this.

Before it was your turn to ask questions.

You asked him 9 questions. The same he asked you. It was going well or so he thought because the last question you asked left him in slight disbelief.

"Do you usually humiliate people you don't know infront of the entire school? Oh wait let me word it differently. Do you enjoy humiliating people you don't know infront of the entire school, and do you enjoy hurting their feelings with that?"

Let's say you grew tired of the bullshit. And the petty side of you might have gotten the upper hand there. But honestly? He didn't deserve better.

"No....I don't.. listen Y/n-"

"Done. No more questions, stop talking to me." Is all you hiss back slamming your pen down before turning back to look out the window.

He really screwed up. But you chose them over him? So what gave you the right to be upset about this? Okay well he knew he over did it with that comment but he didn't know better. Eddie felt hurt, he thought you'd end up good friends...maybe more. Just for you to talk less to him in class and more with your new friends. You both already didn't talk a lot outside of that one science class last week, the rest of the week were small conversations and awkward word exchanges. First you sat alone in the cafeteria, Eddie was going to ask you to sit with them but the next day after you and Chrissy talked in history he found you at the popular table. Abandoned is what he felt like, like you didn't care and replaced him so easily. Not sure why he wanted to be mean to you, he liked you more than he liked to admit and you leaving the cafeteria the way you did after he called that out. The guilt he felt then, he never felt before. He never cared about calling people out, but he also knew that was way to uncalled for.

When the bell rang you grabbed your things and were about to leave, the both of you ended up being the last ones to leave.

"Y/n please just hear me out!"

Trying to walk past him before he gently grabbed you by the waist pulling you back, pushing you to sit down in a seat that was right behind you.

"God please stop ignoring me...I get it okay! I never should have said that...just I was upset you replaced me"

You scoff, you planed to forgive him if he said sorry but he didn't manage to do that.

"Oh so you humiliated me because you felt replaced? How childish is that! What kind of excuse is that?! You could've talked to me about it but decided to make me look like an idiot and not only that you made my new friends look like bad people-"

"Because they are!" He says, his voice slightly raised as he sounded more upset.

"It's not your problem if they make a bet on who fucks me first! IT'S NOT YOUR PROBLEM IF I LET ONE OF THEN WIN OR NOT, TOO"

You never planed to let one of those guys hook up with you, but you felt hurt and upset and it also seemed like it would punish him if you actually did let one of them get you under the sheets.

The surprise gasp you let out when he trapped you between the table and his body sounded more like a strangled whine. He glared down at you and you could feel your breath catch in your throat. The twinkle in your eyes as you looked up at him, the way your eyes searched his face. He felt the way his heart picked up in speed. He felt the way he wanted to kiss you, let you see why he felt upset about the thought that one of those assholes actually got to you.

"Don't say shit like that....listen what I called across the cafeteria, they do that. They do that do all the new girls...I was trying to look out for you..okay I might have done it the wrong way...but I promise I didn't mean to hurt you with it"

"Oh yeah?" The mock in your voice felt more like a slap to his cheek then a nudge.

"So instead of telling me to be careful alone you had to bark it out to the entire school? You know that doesn't make them look bad but it makes me look like I'm easy"

"I didn't mean to-"

"Well you did thou!"

You almost found it attractive when he sighed and pushed his hair out of his face. Eyebrows knitted slightly before he closed his eyes taking a deep breath in.

Your eyes fell to his lips before he opened his eyes again. He was going to speak up before he saw the way you stared down. Not at his eyes but his lips. He licked them, he didn't want to, it just happened. It felt like his instincts took over.

"Im sorry okay? I never wanted you to feel that way, honest!"

Sighing, pushing away your thought's your eyes found his again, his looked different that before. Still the same but still slightly different.

"I didn't replace you. I was looking forward to science class till you did that.."

"Right....I screwed it"

"You did"

Awkward silence filled the whole classroom and ended up with him pulling away standing infront of you.

"So like...are we good?" You almost giggled at the way he looked like a small puppy.

"Yeah I suppose. Unless you pull that shit again!"

"I won't. I promise"

"Right can I get your number?" He asked after a few seconds. Which made you feel butterflies flutter.

"Why? You wanna call me when you miss my voice?" You planed to tease him but when he flirted back it slammed a deep blush across your face.

"Who knows. Maybe I'll need to hear your voice when I'm feeling especially frustrated and pent up"

"I-"

You huff grabbing a pen and rip a piece of paper off your textbook writing your number down pushing it against his chest before rushing out the classroom.

The rest of the day had you more than embarrassed, you told Chrissy in maths what had happened. And before lunch he stood behind you while you put your things away. Scaring you when you turned around to see him right there.

"Jeez Eddie! Scared me half to death!"

"Sorry, sorry....um do you want to sit with me and my friends in lunch?"

"Oh yeah but I should let Chrissy know I won't eat with her today.."

"Right..."

"Hey I promise I'll sit with you okay?"

He just nodded.

"Catch you in the cafeteria then?"

"Yeah see you there."

You basically sprint down the hallway to Chrissys locker, her telling Jason to head off first when she saw you.

"He asked me to sit at his table"

"Well you have to!"

"I know. But what if his friends don't like me? Or like if they judge me and think I'm just a popular girl looking for nothing but popularity or that I'm fake?"

"You're the least fake person I know. And I know a lot of people, you're so sincere. They'll see it too."

"Okay..yeah"

"Go get em!"

You hug her before you walk to the cafeteria. In the cafeteria line you see Eddie at his table already the entire table seemed full. Where would you sit?

You take the food from the women before you head to the table standing next to Eddie as he looks up at you smiling brightly. His gaze drifting to Mike and Dustin. The entire row moved down a seat. Making space for you to the right of Eddie. He gestures for you to sit down his eyes glistening as he stared at you, he noticed the dress this morning and in the hall the entire day. But you looked so beautiful.

"I could have taken a seat down the row...you didn't have to move" you gently tell the boys that sat down the table. They shake their head telling you they didn't mind.

"So."

Eddie started.

"What made you wear a dress today? You didn't wear a dress last week."

"Um well, breaking news, I can wear a dress even when I rarely wear dresses" you say, almost like you were making fun of him.

"Yeah...well you look good in it. You should wear dresses or skirts more..."

The faint blush that covered both of your faces didn't go unnoticed by the rest of the table.

"Sooo...who is the new girl. Didn't she sit with the popular folk last week? She doesn't belong here" said a guy with shorter curly hair. Man he really didn't sound happy to have you here and the glare he send your way just proved it.

"Shut it Gareth! This is Y/n, believe it or not she's nice, hanging out with popular people didn't rot her yet"

"Rude" you hiss at him letting him know he shouldn't talk like that about your friends. Honestly mostly because of Chrissy.

"They can be nice, well...some of them."

"Yeah like Chrissy and....yeha right only Chrissy, isn't that right Y/n?" Asked the guy next to you, he had a dorky smile, his curls short and almost in a shag. He had braces.

"Can it Dustin. Anyways Y/n is my friend she's pretty and sweet. You all better be nice or DND today won't be good for any of you"

This earns a few frustrated huffs and irritated groans but they decide it's best to do as Eddie says. The rest of lunch they're actually all talking to you, even Gareth started to enjoy having you around. Eddie threw in comments here and there but he was busy staring at you. When Dustin shoved Mike , he almost fell off the chair caused you to start laughing. They started to basically fight eachother right there and then. It was entertaining. When you looked at Eddie to see if he was laughing like the rest of the table your breath catched in your throat. He was staring at you.

Like you weren't stupid, you know that kind of stare.

Longing, adoration...basically just a crush stare.

Your smile dropped slightly as you blushed before he leaned closer looking directly at your face.

"You got a pretty darn cute smile"

"Thanks..."

[anachronistic-falsehood]

3 + 27 + 29 for writers ask game for u!!! >:3

ROSWELL SOLLUX INTERTEXTS MY FRIAAAAND <3

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

OUGHH REALLY HARD QUESTION. gaghh. i think my two favourites are brutal and my which prime defender are you quiz!!! brutal was just so fun to write i love when winters family torment nexus!!!! and the quiz because i knew exactly what the reception to it would be (oh silly fun quiz!! yay--oh. Oh No) and i was very correct and it was very fun to see people cursing my name in the feedback question. the quiz was definitely the funnest one to put together!!!! i should do more experimental stuff like that :3 very fun

27. What do you listen to while writing?

GOD i have like five million playlists i cycle through depending on my mood. i have like a playlist of party/sex/etc. songs, another simply called ⚔️BADASS SHIT⚔️ (yes sword emojis included) that i named years ago and don't have the heart to change the name of, one with songs that provide me with serotonin, etc. however i think my favourite playlist is gay fuck jazz (name courtesy of my brother who once described will wood's music as gay fuck jazz and it hasn't left my brain since) gay fuck jazz is usually my default!!!

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

URGHGHGH. I DONT KNOW. THERE R SO MANY GOOD ONES. hmmm lemme think. ohhgh this one from shotgun <3 w vyncent cleaning off the. shotgun

"The shotgun is easier to clean off. Vyncent scrubs the butt of it with a handful of wipes, and they come away dark red, leaving the shotgun sparkling clean.

He lifts it from between his legs and holds it across his lap, just looking at the thing. A shotgun is different from an axe or even a chainsaw. It’s a lot more... removed. Distant. He’s never liked guns all that much. He doesn’t know how Ram uses them.

Hesitantly, he turns it over, and with hands that do not shake, shut up Jason, get back from the front you shouldn’t be here fuck off!!! he lifts it and places his hands where William’s would rest. Will’s left handed, so it feels kind of weird, but Vyncent’s been trained to fight with either hand, so although it’s different he can more or less comfortably hold the shotgun the way Will would, placing his palms over the places he’s seen Will hold it by, curling one finger around the trigger, the other hand gripping the fore-end. He wedges the butt into his shoulder, lifting the stock to rest against his cheek. He looks down the barrel, where it’s pointed at one of the windows.

He shouldn’t load it, shouldn’t cock it, shouldn’t even rest his finger on the fucking trigger, because if he misfires this thing a bullet could rocket out of the Winnebago and hit some poor old lady driving in her Prius, or a random animal on the side of the road, and he doesn’t want to see a splatter of blood on the highway.

It feels. Weird. Holding this. Having some machine with a dozen movable parts in his hands, something capable of rocketing a piece of lead out the other end fast enough to reduce a person’s head to smithereens with just a simple press of a single switch.

His finger twitches against the trigger. His hands are shaking.

He really doesn’t like guns."

LONG PASSAGE I KNOW I KNOW BUT. IM REALLY NORMAL ABOUT VYNCENT AND GUNS. god. sorry now im just thinking about nhw virion and his fucking guns i need to be put down like a rabid dog

[anthroposeen]

tmagp 17 relisten notes!!

as always, tmagp and tma spoilers below the cut! hope you guys enjoy the breakdown :)

celia:

- she's been teleported to another road side, this time very close to a highway in oxford. she missed the play with sam and didnt have a way to contact him about it

- she wants to make up for missing the play by paying for their next date, and seems pretty genuine about her guilt and interest in him

- once the incident ends, she thanks the computer/chester for it. this could have been a sarcastic comment on her part, but it comes across as her acknowledging the case for what it is, and acknowledging that it is somehow curated for her. i think this is evidenced by her telling alice the incident wasnt very useful, implying she tries to find their meaning, and takes them as some form of sentience.

sam:

- he seems a bit peeved that celia didn't call him to tell him she had to cancel, and tells her to not make a habit of this kind of thing. i think its important to keep in mind that we've established he's very sensitive to rejection and people "not having time" for him.

- "im not a big horror fan" who's going to tell him?

alice:

- her computer keeps malfunctioning, showing a jmj error

- shes back to making bad puns and jokes at gwen's expense, a hard shift from her demeanor last episode

- she jokes to gwen about venting their problems as a group exercise, but denies actually having a problem to discuss

gwen:

- she helps alice with the jmj error, and says that colin hasnt been in the office in weeks, though theres no more word in his whereabouts

- she also! denies having anything to talk about! great communication guys!

incident:

- narrated by chester/jon, read at celia's desk.

- incident pulled from the magnus institute oxford outreach center -> important for the obvious reason and because celia woke up in oxford the most recent time she teleported

- darrien is given low viability for agent, subject, and catalyst

- states that "continued incarceration" is the advised method of containing/studying the subject and phenomena, implying that sometime after the statement was given, the magnus institute incarcerated darrien for unknown reasons.

- the statement was given by a man named darrien -> episode 13 also featured a darrien, but it doesn't appear to be the same man to me, i think its most likely that ajn and johhny are just having a good time with recycling names.

- darrien was in a court ordered anger-management program and was transported across dimensions during a therapy session -> intense meditation seemed to be the trigger here

- the receptionist at his therapy office was a "big, soft looking guy" who stumbled over his words, this is followed by the mention of a "bookish looking guy" who darrien says gives him weird pervert vibes. while these are incredibly in character descriptions for them both, i cant say im sure these are alternate-dimension's martin and jon. ide also like to point out that these are characters from darrien's previous universe, not the tmagp one where he finds himself.

- when darrien wakes up from his meditation he has a strong migraine, dry eyes, a stiff neck, and he was dizzy. later, he discovers hes emaciated as he continuously passes out. these symptoms seem to go away as he stays in this dimension

- he woke up in the tmagp universe in a shopping center, coming from a magnus institute outreach post -> seeing as how we know the main building is still active, it could be that the outreach centers also serve as "portals"

- he experienced similar things to anya villette's statement in tma s3. he couldnt contact his employer, had no emergency contact to give the hospital, woke up in a different location, and was taken to the wrong address.

- the tmagp native darrien (who ill call other!darrien for clarity here) was welcoming to his lost doppelgänger, letting him stay in his house and offering him advice on how to keep his anger in check

- darrien describes meeting his other!self as "trying not to fall through the cracks" -> potentially a call back to anya villette's episode "cracked foundation"

- they reasoned the coincidence out by figuring they were half siblings, though they were both named darrien. they discovered a couple of time discrepancies, seeing as their dad died on different days

- the housekeeper, sharon, was wary of them, giving darrien a scared look and looking for opportunities to leave the room when he was around

- when darrien asks how other!darrien manages his anger, hes taken to a heavy door in the basement. there was a single drop of blood on the staircase leading down. ragged breathing and pleading for help rose from below the stairs, and darrien refused to be a part of this anger-vent exercise. he pushed other!darrien into the room, locking it back.

- darrien denies the invitation into the torture chamber, "i couldnt join him down there with my father", later saying he felt guilty for not killing other!darrien and "saving whatever poor soul he had kept". at first, i thought that his other!father was being kept in the basement and tortured, but i think he uses his dad as a metaphor for the anger they both carry. this opens up the scarier realization that other!darrien is just torturing a random person

- once he locked other!darrien in the basement room, he adopted his life.

- sharon didnt return to darrien after her vacation was up, and its thought that she reported him to the institute, where we can assume they began his incarceration

glitches/lies:

- "i'm ok/its ok" spoken by celia as she's trying to reassure herself

- no glitches after gwen and alice say they have nothing to share. its very possible this is because they dont want to share with each other

extra comments:

- the jmj wrror stops popping up after alice proposes talking out their issues as a team, but considering they dont actually do that im chalking it up to a coincidence for now

- this incident follows chester's normal shtick: statement from the magnus institute, directly targeting someones business, and sort of providing a cautionary tale

- this may be my favorite incident so far. it has a very similar vibe to the early tma statements, and an ominous music bit from s1-2 even played briefly as darrien meets his dopplegänger (at least, thats what it sounded like to me). it has a lot of revelation-centered horror that really grabs me, knowing exactly who will be in the house as darrien knocks on the door and following his dopplgänger into the torture room were so vivid for me, its the exact type of horror that always makes me genuinely creeped out!

- this episode raises a lot of questions about the stability of this dimension, and all dimensions in general since there seems to be reoccurring leaks/cracks. this manifests as celia teleporting across space, existing in this universe in general, the giant cavern in the magnus institute ruins, and darrien's adventures in universe-hopping.

- as i mentioned in the incident points, jon and martin have a sort of hinted cameo in darrien's original universe, but a part of me refuses to believe its them just because i enjoy the mystery set up after mag 200. if this is all the content we get of potential jon and martin dopplegängers, ill actually be happy with that. i really do enjoy the notion that they exist in some boring reality somewhere else, and martin still stumbles over his words and jon still needs anger management therapy. i like that theres consistency even in an alternate universe. im certain we wont be seeing these vague background characters again, but i would love to see darrien's reaction to norris's voice.