#then immediately people come in with a whole other conversation and don’t even acknowledge what you saidLove getting talked over and ignore

[astral-catastrophe]

Anyway I’m just so fucking done

[ev-arrested]

My favorite HC ever is Dick Grayson just. Acting dumb. In all aspects.

Richard John Grayson is perfectly fucking capable of cooking. Is stereotyped to be capable of burning water and is banned from the manor’s kitchen. His brothers have no idea he knows how to make a three Michelin star steak.

Dick Grayson is bisexual. He knows this, has known it for forever, and is 100% comfortable with it. Based on what others would tell you, though, he’s completely straight and is actually a little uncomfortable with being considered gay. 100% a fierce ally to his queer family and friends tho.

What’s navigation like for Dickie Gray? A master. Can track anything, navigate anywhere, knows a dozen methods for any given survival scenario. To everyone else? Dick cannot do it. Incapable. Directionally challenged. You’d think a trapeze artist would know which way is up, but no. He gets it from his parents.

Dickiebird? Excellent manipulator. We know this. His family knows it. Some of his friends know it. They pray for any poor soul who has no idea how manipulative Dick can be. They watch in the distance disappointedly, knowing that Dick’s victim just thinks he’s an ordinary, honest, standup guy, all the while not even knowing that despite being aware of Dick’s true nature, they are being manipulated in equal measure.

Related side note: Good ol Richy? Incredible conversationalist. Everyone knows this. It’s his whole persona. Wears that fact on his sleeve. He always finds a way to make everyone feel like he’s interested in the conversation, even if he would rather die than talk about the current topic for a second longer. And this goes beyond just giving occasional sounds of acknowledgment and peppering words like “cool” or “yeah”. Someone could be talking about the most boring topic imaginable, and he’d have a dazzling smile on his face, his body language signifying that he’s completely engaged, will even ask proper clarifying questions in an attempt to learn more. When he exits the conversation, someone asks, “wow, are you really that fascinated by (insert inane topic)?” and while Dick’s smile doesn’t even falter, he immediately drops the pretense and says, “Oh, absolutely not. That was the most boring conversation I’ve ever had in my life.”

Dick Grayson has gotten this far in life because people consistently underestimate him. He’s made himself come across as juuust incompetent enough (in very particular ways that don’t compromise his image as a capable leader), leaving everyone absolutely fucking blindsided whenever he pulls the rug out from under them about what they thought he was capable of.

And we love him for it.

[nikethestatue]

Greetings,

I’m a baby elriel. I’ve like never really “shipped” any characters before in my life — and after the last few weeks of looking at the historical/ongoing ship war clusterfuck that is the ACOTAR fandom I don’t think I’m ever going to set sail again anywhere. You and all the other elriels who have been in the trenches from the get go have my respect 🫡 Anyways, your blog is super swaggy and you’re like the chillest elriel I’ve seen, so it is to your inbox that I shall share my testimony, my come to Mother moment if you will.

I didn’t really start giving any serious thought to the two them being a legit thing until I was already done with ACOSF. And it’s wild because it was the “‘I don’t see you spouting poetry, brother.’ ‘I don’t need to resort to it.’” bit in ACOWAR between Cassian and Azriel that triggered me to reevaluate.

When I first read that part I was like damn okay I see you Rizzriel, and I just kept on thinking about it and coming back to it cause it was so funny and entertaining but one day I was like yo hold up, don’t need to resort to it?? Okay, Mr. “Born Hearing the Song of the Wind.” Okay, Mr. waxing poetic about “The Naphelle Philosophy.” Like don’t get me wrong, it is definitely, first and foremost, a subtle flex for his third unspoken title; he is Azriel — shadowsinger, spymaster, and rizz master of the Night Court. However, I am a firm believer that he doesn’t need to resort to poetic words as some sort of attempt at flattery or being charming because the right situation/person naturally draws out that part of him.

✨Walk with me✨

When Elain and Azriel first meet in ACOMAF, even though there’s not a whole lot of interaction between them, it’s definitely a case of two people having a connection simply off vibes alone (yay for those of us who don’t have loud personalities). He puts her at ease with a smile and by acknowledging her fears and apprehension about their presence, about how much of a mindfuck it was for her to be dining in her home with those she was raised to believe were horrific creatures that would kill her if given the chance.

So like because of this, I think Elain is driven by a deeper curiosity that came from her unexpected comfort when she asks “Can you truly fly?” cause ngl asking the dude with massive wings if he can fly is certainly a choice 🧍🏽‍♀️ Like, there’s more to it than that, more than just attempting to transition from a tense situation into conversational small talk which could’ve been done just as easily with the likes of “Tell me about yourself” or a more confrontational “So what are you?” — which is essentially what Nesta asked immediately after 💀

Elain doesn’t know anything about these guys, but she sees Feyre trusts them, and Azriel’s small expressions of gentleness towards her amidst the escalating interactions made her willing to attempt connecting with him further. So I think her asking a ridiculously simple question with an obvious answer was her way of softly inviting him to share something about himself — not necessarily through what he responds with but rather how he responds — because something, if anything, unique to his answer beyond a simple yes or no would offer her a glimpse at him. And what does he do? Stone-faced, cold ass — doesn’t open his mouth except to give the shortest answers possible or to make some sharp sassy retort — Azriel spouts poetry for her about his and Cassian’s heritage.

So after my revelation slapped me in the face and then bonked me over the head for good measure, I went back and sought out all their interactions and was like dang bro became horrendously down bad for her in the most quietly romantic way possible and she’s feelin something too I can’t believe I didn’t pay attention to this before. I love love love that they just seem to be at ease in each other’s presence, that the vibes between them are so immaculate they don’t even need to bother with many words. Existing in comfortable silence with someone is like my favorite way to spend time in relationships whether it’s familial, platonic, or romantic so it makes me feel all fuzzy that we see them like that quite often.

So now I’m here and am looking forward to eventually reading about them and discovering more about Elain’s gifts because the whole creation story with the Mother + the Cauldron always gave me Gaia-type vibes and with Elain being invested in gardening and then being made a Seer by the cauldron because it thought she was so lovely I’m like Elain Archeron — the absolute goddess that you are, light and life flowing through your Made veins — we haven’t even seen all you can do yet and you’ve got this angelic fae male of death and darkness ready to worship you on his knees and I’ma be right there with him yes ma’am 🛐

WOW baby Elriel. You smote me with this beautiful post.

(first of all, you should write fanfiction. You reminded me of the greatest Elriel (or otherwise) writer that ever graced this hot mess of a fandom with their presence)

But I can't agree more. I think SJM actually pays attention to them, as a couple. Not something she does with many others. That relationship just flows so beautifully in the background, calm and poetic, even with the language she uses around them. There is so much imagery of death and life and decay and rebirth and beauty and flowers and blades and warmth and baking and loneliness and despair and searching for love and for home.

I don't know what she'll do with them, but it could be her Magnum Opus if she is careful, thoughtful and steady in crafting their story. What she already put down deserves special treatment when the story actually comes to pass.

Also, welcome to the fandom.

[hareofhrair]

Saw another post about an inclusive piece of media getting torn apart for a small mistake, and someone once again wondering why queer people are so eager to attack queer media.

“Why are queer fans so quick to turn on queer media?”

The problem is, you’re not talking about the right people.

The genuine fans who made the thing popular aren’t the ones that do this. The problem is this website is just as full of bad faith assholes who see something inclusive (usually something that dares to acknowledge trans people exist) and are immediately chomping at the bit for a way to destroy it.

They’ll latch on to stupid petty reasons people make fun of at first but eventually they’ll get the opportunity to jump on something that is even the slightest bit more legitimate, and once they’ve passed it around to all their hater friends it breaks containment. Then someone not that familiar with the show sees the vitriolic exaggerations of the hater and that’s their whole impression of the show now, and when it comes up that’s what they talk about.

And then well meaning people who maybe even liked the thing see what seems to be a lot of people talking about claims that have by now been sensationalized to extremes, and think “ah geez this must be a big deal, i dont want people to think I’m an asshole who condones bad shit.”

And because it’s just a show and a minuscule part of their life they don’t look any further into it they just reblog the same sensationalized posts uncritically, and suddenly the only thing anyone knows about this show is that anyone associated with it is a toxic pedophile racist abuser.

We saw it happen with Steven Universe, and Dream Daddy, and Boyfriends, and on and on. People keep trying to start this conversation about “why do queer people attack inclusive media as soon as it isn’t literally perfect?” When the answer is- first off, queer people aren’t a monolith and plenty of us are exclusionist shitheads- and second it’s not the fucking queer people doing it! It’s %90 of the time just god damn TERFs, if not straight up cis conservatives, and every body else not caring enough to double check the claims that end up on their dash.

I’ve seen actual receipts on the fact that the origin of these hate trains can frequently be traced back to the same individuals over and over. Serial haters whose only apparent goal on social media is to shit on something other people like, and then when it gets boring they just move on to the next target.

It’s ridiculously easy for assholes who want to tear something down for being inclusive to hijack the narrative surrounding any popular piece of media, because the more popular it is the more people are only tangentially interested in it, and thus not well informed about it or willing to question the story presented to them or dig for the truth, because it’s a tumblr post about a show they half watched and they have better things to do. And also the mean gossip is frequently just more entertaining than the truth. Which means they can turn the huge segment of fandom which are passive casual fans into what appears to be an outraged mob.

And most importantly, outrage is infectious. There’s a reason the twitter algorithm prioritizes negative engagement, and fox news headlines are designed to make you angry. When we’re only half engaged, scrolling past things we’re not really informed about, and we see something that makes us react with outrage, why would we waste time questioning it, when we could just reblog it with a nasty comment and move on, and probably forget about in five minutes? Then everyone who follows us sees it, and gets angry, and reacts, and forgets, and it spreads, and next thing you know another trans woman has been driven off the platform under a mountain of death threats. Or we show it to a friend to shit talk about it together, and get worked up about whatever bogeyman has been attached to the issue, until the target now represents to us the bogeyman incarnate, a symbol of everything wrong in the world- and now you’re one of the people actively contributing to the mountain of death threats.

So the pipeline is this. A person makes an inclusive piece of art. A bigot who hates whatever particular flavor of queerness that art includes makes shitting on that art their new hobby, and get all their shit head friends together to talk about how bad and gross everything *insert despised identity here* makes is. People laugh at what appears to them to be the pedantic nitpicking of insatiable fans and not the seething cope of dedicated hatewatchers. Then the art handles an issue imperfectly or someone associated with it says something regrettable or the haters just land on the right combination of buzzwords to make their bullshit look like legitimate enough criticism that someone not in their hate circle reblogs it. More people who have only a passing relationship with the piece of art uncritically pass it around because it’s funny, or it briefly pissed them off, and reactive anger makes us stupid and incurious. More people, including people who like the thing, assume the quantity of criticism is an indicator of its legitimacy and are more concerned with not being perceived as complicit than the truth, and spread it further. And now instead of being remembered as a revolutionary boundary pushing queer led show that changed the game for queer inclusivity in animation and also was just gorgeous and had a soundtrack with ZERO flops, Steven Universe is remembered as the show with all the stupid toxic discourse and how the ending TOTALLY said you’re obligated to forgive your abusive family members and also genocide apologism.

Queer people don’t have it out for queer media. People who hate queer people and everything they make are just very good at making you think you agree with them.

[theranchhand]

What’s his deal?

“So? What’s his deal?”

Raphael blinked and turned his head slightly to look at Leon. “Huh?” He said, not sure what Leon was getting at. It had been a few days since his brothers and him had been dropped (literally) into this new universe. It hadn’t been much of a shock more so annoying really. It didn’t take long to find their counterparts and explain their situation, there hadn’t really been any problems between them. Or so he thought. He was simply sitting back, watching a movie one of the others had put on before Leon had approached him.

“Well-“ the blue clad turtles started, stopping for a moment to think his words more thoroughly. “Your brother– Leo, I mean, what’s his deal?” Immediately he could tell he didn’t think his words out as well as he thought he did with the way Raphael’s face pinched into a scowl.

“What do you mean ‘what’s his deal’? There is no deal.” He grumbled as he glowered at the other turtle.

Leon was waved his hands around as he tried to back track, maybe starting the conversation off with ‘what’s his deal?’ isn’t the right way to go. It should’ve been common knowledge but he wasn’t exactly known for that. “No! No not like that- I meant why won’t he talk to us? He barely acknowledges us unless we are directly talking with him. It’s like he’s actively ignoring us. Does he hate us or something?”

As the blue clad turtle began to explain what he really meant Raphael’s slight anger and overprotectiveness began to melt away. Now that he knew where Leon was coming from he couldn’t help but realize that his older brother’s actions may have caused some confusion, rightfully so. He chuckled a bit at Leon’s worry as he shook his head no.

“Leo doesn’t hate any of you, believe me.”

“Then why is he practically ignoring us?”

“Yeah uh…” his green eyes shifted over to the other people in the room before landing on who the topic was about. Leo seemed content, sitting back on one of the beanbags they had in the living room watching the movie that was put on. It was similar to Space Heroes so his older brother had been captured by it immediately. It was nice to see him so relaxed and content, something that didn’t happen as much back home. “I won’t say it’s complicated because it really isn’t, but it’s a bit of a touchy subject.” He started before he was cut off by Leon.

“Oh! You don’t have to tell me then if it’s a touchy sub-“

“I’m not done.” Raphael said as he give Leon a quick glare, a little annoyed at being interrupted. “It is a bit difficult but if it’s causing you guys to get all butt-hurt I can let you in on the basic stuff. Spare you all of the other details.” He said and waited for Leon to agree, once he got a Nod in response he took a deep breath, looking back at the movie.

“Alright, so Leo isn’t trying to ignore you, or At least not intentionally, he won’t talk to you because he’s mute.” He could see Leon’s as widen as he said this. The kid opened and closed his mouth for a moment before finally finding the words he wanted to say. “Is… is it a preference or…?” Raphael shook his head at the question.

“No… he used to be able to talk but a while back he got…” ambushed. He couldn’t say that. “He got a really bad injury to his throat, you can still see some scars around his neck, it really damaged his vocal cords according to Donnie which caused him to lose his voice. It was hard to get used to at first– especially for him.” He said as he glanced back to his older brother before looking at Leon once again.

“I’m-“ Raphael quickly put a hand up, cutting the other off, “don’t.” He hated the whole pity thing and he knew Leo hated it too.

Leon frowned looking down and after a moment looked back at Raphael. “But still why does he just… not try to communicate with us in other ways?” Raphael sighed. “Leo is awkward, believe it or not, he isn’t the best at communicating and the added stress of trying to get home makes him even more ass at it than he usually is.”

Leon didn’t know what to say, this was something he wasn’t expecting at all. He expected his counterpart to not like him or his brothers, for Raphael to say ‘yeah no he finds you all annoying and can’t wait to get back home.’ But for his counterpart to be mute and not by choice was something he didn’t even think about. Let alone put as a possibility. “So how do you communicate then? Giving that he can’t talk anymore.” In all the time their counterparts have been staying with them he never noticed how they communicated with their eldest brother, somehow.

“Oh we communicate through sign language.”

“Sign language? Like American Sign Language?”

“Sort of. We kind of made our own sign language—Donnie calls it turtle sign language or tsl for short— since we have three fingers only some signs in asl are a little difficult to do, so when we found out about Leo’s problem we worked together to make our own sigh language. Leo wasn’t very happy about it at first but he got used to it eventually.” He explained, a hint of a smile on his face. Leon stared with wide eyes, a small ‘whoa’ coming from him.

“That’s so cool! I’ve never thought you could do that but it makes sense!”

“Heh yeah, Donnie did most of the work, me and Leo helped throw in ideas while Mikey tested them out.”

“I see, why didn’t your brother like tsl at first though?” Leon ask, tilting his head a little to the side. Raphael sighed. “Leo is stubborn and he didn’t want to accept the fact that he couldn’t talk anymore. It took a lot of convincing for him to finally accept it and actually learn to sign.”

“Wow that must’ve… sucked.”

“Mmhm…”

“Can you teach me?”

Raphael’s head snapped to the side to look at Leon in surprise. “What” he asked, not sure he heard the other right.

“Teach me, can you teach me?” Leon repeated, picking at his mask tails starting to get a little nervous for asking. “I-I mean you don’t have to obviously I just thought it would be nice to learn and I could maybe communicate with your brother a little better that way.”

Raphael stared at the blue clad turtle for a moment before chuckling a bit. “Sure I’ll teach you a few basics, I’m sure Leo would appreciate your efforts to communicate better with him.” He said as he turned his body to face Leon completely.

For the remainder of the movie Raphael spent it teaching Leon a few basics of tsl.

From across the room dark blue eyes watched the two with a hint of fondness.

This was just a little something I thought of, basically instead of just a throat injury that made his voice deeper and sometimes a little hard to talk it caused him to lose his voice. They thought he would get his voice back after waking up from his coma but it didn’t happen. He can still make soft sounds like grunts and stuff to communicate but if he strains his vocal cords too much it’ll bite him in the ass later.

This is the first fanfic I have written in YEARS so sorry if it’s eef anyways enjoy!—

[saturdaynightghostclub]

Highway Hypnosis

Chapter 7: Meadow Report

I miss gossip. I miss rushing home from the library at the drop of a hat because Nora, my roommate, had “major dirt” on a classmate that couldn’t wait until I was done studying. Those text messages (or, better yet, phone calls)—the “Come home right now” followed by the “You won’t believe what I heard in the diner today”—summoned me quicker than any house fire ever could. It’s horrible, but it doesn’t feel that way when it’s happening. It feels like an accomplishment, like you’re receiving high-priority intelligence. Young people are wasted in retail and food service; we could really be put to use as spies, I think. It’s an inherent sneakiness that’s kind of thrilling, an unspoken code of conduct that we adhere to without being told: information is to be exchanged only in person, unless it’s an objective and irrefutable fact, in which case you may send it in a text message (but why would you, when it’s so much fun to see the look on your friends’ faces when you spill all the latest drama?). “Tell no one” means “Tell everyone, just don’t let them trace it back to me,” and “You can’t know this” means “No really, tell no one.” I want to exercise my knowledge of this code, to be once again on the receiving end of “You won’t believe this,” but it appears that the only good source of gossip around here is me.

I’ve just about given up on my dreams of scandalous water cooler conversation—having three friends, two of them men, will do that to a girl—when it becomes clear that, unbeknownst to me, I have created the biggest scandal in Evergreen since the death of my uncle. It runs in the family, I guess. The scandal in question? It pertains to Jasper Stevens, because lately I’m nothing without his lanky shadow following me around.

“Tell me everything,” Janie says immediately after clocking in, practically skidding around the corner with a crate of whole coffee beans in tow. She knows something I don’t.

I raise an eyebrow, nearly letting Joshy’s coffee cup overflow as I refill it from the pitcher. “Everything about what?”

Janie rolls her eyes. “Don’t be like that, Andie!”

I turn to Joshy, who’s sitting at the bar. “Do you know what she’s talking about?”

He nods, amused. “Moss,” he offers, though I can tell by his sage manner that I won’t be getting any more information from him.

“Oh, Jasper? What about him?”

Janie’s exaggerated groan tells me that she’s at least as starved for good gossip as I am, but I’m no less lost for it. She sets her crate down on the bar before turning to me and, in a voice like a kindergarten teacher’s, says: “Moss was in here the other day. You two left together. Tell me everything.”

“Moss never hangs out in town,” Joshy adds helpfully, “he’s like a cryptid.”

I nod. I think I get it now. And really, who am I to deny a fellow woman the joy of being entirely too invested in someone else’s business? It’s one of life’s purest joys. I assume the position: the one everyone knows, that invites others into your confidence. Elbows on the counter, leaning forward—come closer, I’ll tell you a secret. Janie follows suit, standing beside me with her ear trained toward me. Even Joshy leans in, eager to hear what I have to say. “Well,” I begin, “we’ve been spending a lot of time together lately.”

“I knew it,” Janie hisses, slapping the counter.

“At first it was just coincidental, you know? But he started coming over once a week to change out his books and then—I don’t know, we’ve been hanging out. Am I crazy?”

Janie says “No” at the same time that Joshy says “Yes,” and I groan in protest. The couple stares at each other for a few moments, engaged in a silent stalemate. Without breaking eye contact, Joshy raises his hand. “Joshua,” I acknowledge.

“I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing,” he says, turning his gaze on me, “this is a really small town, Andie. You need to be completely sure before you make a move. Really weigh those pros and cons.”

“Oh my god, is that what you did before we started dating? You made a pros and cons list?” Janie says, whacking Joshy’s arm. “You know what?” She asks, as he dodges another blow, “Don’t answer that, I don’t want to know.”

I put my head down on my arms and take a deep breath before coming back up. “Janie?”

“I think you have to go for it,” she says, “partly because I’m curious—I mean, being in a relationship with Moss, what would that even look like?—but mostly because I want you to be happy, and I think he could be the person to make that happen.”

“You think?”

“I think. Moss isn’t one of those guys you just casually hang out with, you know? He’s an acquired taste. You must get each other though,” she says thoughtfully, “anyway, you lured him into a public cafe, so that’s got to count for something.”

“What do you guys even talk about?” Joshy pipes up, “I mean, I love the guy, but he’s not a real conversationalist, you know what I mean?”

This gives me pause. What do we talk about? We talk about everything, so entirely that it feels like nothing. Like water flowing over rocks, or silk sliding across your skin. It’s unimpeded, uninterrupted even in our moments of silence. One long, continuous conversation. “Everything,” I say, “honestly, if I didn’t know he had a reputation I’d just think he was a run-of-the-mill introvert.”

“So weird,” Janie murmurs, “I mean, you know we all love him, he’s family. But like, the type of family who writes you a letter every five years from a different country, you know?”

“Yeah,” I sigh absently. I want to tell them about that night at the cabin, where he clasped my head to his chest and let his warm cologne breathe life back into my body. I want to tell them about the river, where his hand on my knee sealed my fate as his devoted acolyte. Hell, I want to tell them about how he exchanged War and Peace, unfinished, for The Hobbit because it’s summer and he “should be having fun.” But something about those stories feels too personal to share, like they’re just for us. Eyes on us would ruin the illusion, if that’s all it is.

“For what it’s worth,” Joshy says, “I haven’t seen him so…I don’t know, outgoing? Not for a good couple of years, at least.”

Janie nods, looking like she’s deep in thought. “Yeah. Yeah, come to think of it, he has been more talkative. He gave me a recipe for risotto the other day because he noticed I was buying rice.”

Risotto. Would you look at that. I rake a hand through my hair, wrenching my gaze from my companions as the front window is suddenly assaulted by a barrage of gigantic rain drops. Jesus, it’s like the sky’s got something to prove. I lament a moment for my sundress, which is sure to become a liability on my walk home assuming the storm doesn’t let up in the next ten minutes.

“You wanna head out?” Janie asks, seeing straight through me. “Go ahead, it’ll be dead until the rain stops.”

“Mmkay,” I reply, untying my apron, “call me if you need me.” It’s a formality. She won’t call.

The walk home is, as expected, a balmy torrent of rain that weighs on my dress and clings to my skin. I reflexively fold my arms around my body, but give up consciously after reminding myself that there’s no point. The rain is so all-encompassing it may as well be the air itself I’m passing through, soaking me to the bone. I’m inclined to shiver despite its slimy warmth, and I pick up the pace as I approach the cabin (the cabin which is still a The, caught in the limbo between a His and a My).

Speak of the Devil and he shall appear. Soaked and saturated, on your front porch steps. Jasper Stevens rises to stand as I approach, unfolding his limbs and stretching like a cat. He passes through the downpour without so much as a blink.

“What are you doing here?” I call, jogging to meet him so we don’t have to yell above the rain. He’s got this look, like he’s faced some kind of ancient evil and accepted his fate.

“Last time it rained like this you had a panic attack,” he says. The rain’s numbed me to everything but his fingertips against the line of my cheekbone. He’s searching me for god knows what—labored breathing, signs of fatigue, I don’t know. It’s mortifying, and I would shrink from him if it didn’t mean he’d stop touching me.

“That wasn’t a panic attack, and it wasn’t because of the rain,” I say casually, taking a small step into his personal space. Janie’s words are circling me like vultures. She’s the devil on my shoulder, convincing me from afar that this man is the solution to my past, present, and future problems. As if sensing my line of thought, he freezes. His breath hitches in his throat for half a second before he continues as if nothing happened. “Why are you really here?”

“Andie…” he says softly, his voice melodic. Sweet and low, like dark brandy.

“Jasper,” I reply. Kiss me, damn it. I can’t be the first one to fold, I’m not the space alien here. Eyes. Lips. Eyes. Kiss me, Jasper Stevens.

I don’t notice the glide of his fingers across my skin until his thumb is brushing my lower lip. “I can’t…” he trails off. I’m about to roll my eyes or finish his sentence or both when he picks it back up: “I can’t be casual about this. If we do this, I mean.”

“What makes you think I want to be casual with you?” I ask. One of us is the Earth right now, pulling the other one in by some invisible gravitational force. I can’t tell if it’s me or him. What makes this man think that I, all of four inches from his face, want anything but his entire self? Here, moments from changing the very fabric of our relationship, I am more certain than ever that I want to immerse myself in him fully. I want us to change each other, I want to change us, I want us to remain exactly as we are. He looks entirely overwhelmed, and I want him to know that it’s really so simple. All he has to do is lean in, and it’ll all be crystal clear.

Jasper’s lips are soft, slightly parted as they brush across mine. A plea for entry, an experimental knock before turning the key he’s always held. I slide a hand over the back of his neck, fingers carding through his hair where the rain has curled it away from his skin. My other hand tangles with his somewhere to my right before eventually settling on his chest. His breath catches again, as if I’ve somehow caught him off-guard, and then he’s pulled me in by the waist and he’s kissing me—really—and it’s all I can do not to collapse into him. I can only hope that his thoughts are as blissfully simple as mine are in this moment: this is right this is right this is right.

[malin-la]

Let’s talk about the main flaw in Hazbin Hotel

This is a long post so strap in boys

Before getting into the negative, I want to get into the positive. The character designs, world building and voice acting are all amazing. While I can’t deny that I’m mad the original voice actors were scrapped, the new ones are doing quite well.

I saw someone online say that “the show isn’t afraid to be a musical”, and I couldn’t agree more. Instead of leaning away from all the gimmicks and quirks that come with a musical number, the show leans into them, leaving for a better experience for those who already know what’s coming.

That being said, the main issue in the show lies with the pacing and how much it affects its characters.

Hazbin Hotel tried to cram 6 months in eight episodes, and while we hear the cues telling us that time has gone by, we don’t really feel like it has. The one month time jump between episodes 7 and 8 felt like a day or two at most. And while I understand that the show had to be fast because of the 8 episode runtime, the current season one plot line could’ve been split up into two eight episode seasons.

But why do that? The reason lies in the characters. When people are planning a show, they have to decide whether they want to follow a more episodic format, or whether they want it to be mostly plot driven continuous episodes. Hazbin chose the latter, which is perfectly fine, but the creators needed to acknowledge that their show was so character heavy.

When a show has a large cast that are all equally important, it’s necessary to let them all shine in both “plot situations” as well as “non plot-related situations”.

One of the best modern examples of this is (unfortunately) the first two seasons of Voltron Legendary Defender. For those who don’t know, Voltron is a show that had seven people in their main cast, and while later seasons fell flat, the first few didn’t. That’s because the show did two very important things:

1. They established each of their characters with a few unique personality traits, as well as some that are common to the group

2. They put their characters in “non plot-related situations” together, to establish the dynamic between many individual pairs and groups, which helped the audience better understand the characters in turn

To put it short, Hazbin Hotel succeeded at the first point, but completely missed the second. We don’t see many of the hotel’s residents interact. How would Vaggie and Husk hold a conversation? Would Sir Pentious hold a liking to Niffty immediately or would he hate her? And even for the pairs and dynamics that are more fleshed out, that dynamic is often restricted to one or two small scenes.

There is such a huge stigma around “filler episodes” in modern animation, but in a character-driven show, sometimes a few of them are necessary. Without them, some characters can seem a little one-dimensional…

Of course, there’s still at least one other season to come, and I don’t doubt some of these dynamics will be furthered, but considering that a whole six months has already gone by, we know that they all must’ve interacted during that time. It’s just a matter of the creator “showing” those moments to us or “hiding” them to allow time for more plot episodes.

[majorbaby]

I swear, some of the rudest and most obnoxious MASH fans are the BJ fanatics. Heaven forbid some people just plain don’t like that character!

i received this ask last night and it's a perfect example of why i don't want to rehash the 'what episode do you start from' debate anymore, even from a purely analytical perspective. it is a discussion that is only pretending to care about situating first-time viewers. it's not about which cast you like more, because there's a negligible amount of henry vs. potter discussion out there. everybody acknowledges that it gets messy and needlessly upsets everyone, and it's always immediately followed up with a bunch of smug posts like 'the correct way to watch MASH is while your married same-sex roommate rails you from behind as your tent is being shelled' which would be funny if it weren't for the convenient timing.

for the record, i'm not saying there isn't a good-faith conversation to be had and honest arguments to be made or that the question should not be asked, i just don't think that is what happens. it's a ship war. okay, so just ask the real question: hawkeye/trapper or hawkeye/BJ. the problem with that though is that you'd have to actually watch the whole show to enter into that debate without feeling like an asshole. additionally, people would be more likely to point out that the resulting data is flawed because the question (like the 'where do you start' question) merely implies that you must've seen the whole show, and the sample contains a good amount of people who haven't seen the whole thing.

and i use 'feeling like an asshole' because it's a self-imposed expectation which is sometimes enforced by others. i personally believe it's completely valid to like one ship without even considering the other. i'm not sitting around all day getting my feelings hurt thinking about who's sucking hawkeye's dick, i've got bigger dicks that need sucking.

i could (and i do) look the other way on ship wars, but this is tumblr.com where people are increasingly inclined to justify their personal preferences by virtue signalling, at which point it becomes painfully obvious to me how insufferably white this fandom is. a bunch of white people sitting around talking about how hurt their feelings are by trapper and henry cheating on their fictional off-screen wives while potter calls klinger a donkey or a house pet and hardly anyone blinks. 

and i've put my time in explaining why and how this is regressive and hurtful using patient, respectful, intellectual words. so if something somehow slips past my filters and i see the equivalent of '3rd wave intersectional feminists wrote welcome to korea' ever again i'm just gonna do as i always do in every arena of my life: mutter 'okay whitey' and move on.

anyway anon, i don't endorse these kinds of blanket statements even if i understand where they come from - and that's not to say i agree with what's you've said, it's just that if you're in a space with one dominant stance that you do not align with then yeah, you're gonna be annoyed. please do that somewhere other than my ask box.

[persephoneggsy]

Now that I’m on my (xx)-teenth replay of DA2, I’ve been having thoughts on Marian Hawke’s relationships.

Varric (Rival): They’re not exactly friends. Oh, Varric tried, but Marian’s extremely antagonistic and selfish attitude made it pretty hard to stick up for her in a lot of situations. He doesn’t like how her instinct is always to fight first; like seriously, the woman has no sense of tact. Sure, there are times he finds her fun to have around (mostly when she’s threatening someone he doesn’t particularly like), but on the whole, they don’t get along. Doesn’t stop him from basing characters on her, though, and that’s Marian’s main gripe with him. The thinly-veiled “Marielle” character from Hard in Hightown is absolutely nothing like her; she’s more like what Varric wishes she was like (though Marian is more upset at how Varric portrayed the characters based off of Carver and Sebastian). Don’t get her started on “The Tale of the Champion”, she absolutely despises it. She never gave Varric permission to write down her life story, much less sell it so OTHER people can read about her, and the fucker made a lot of shit up because she barely had him around enough for him to know what really happened. After the book comes out, she refuses to even speak to Varric. The only thing that manages to break this is when Varric writes to her about Corypheus, but even then, she prefers not to speak to him at all when she’s at Skyhold. To Varric’s credit, he gets it. He finally leaves her alone.

Anders (Rival): She’s immediately on edge around Anders since the first thing he wants her to do is fight Templars and break a mage out of the Circle. And, you know, he's also technically an abomination. Marian, someone who looks out for herself and her family, doesn’t give too much of a shit about the plight of mages (or rather, she’d just prefer to not think about it), so naturally Anders finds her frustrating, especially since she herself IS a mage. They’ve gotten into a lot of arguments over the years, mostly started by Anders pestering her; Marian is content to ignore him whenever possible. She also hates his whole “you were luckier than most mages” thing he keeps telling her. She knows she was, but he doesn’t know her life, and even if things were better, they still weren’t good. The one point of credit she does give him is that he offers free healing to the downtrodden — Marian acknowledges he’s better than her in that regard (she’s a healer, and a better one than him, but she’d absolutely charge money for her services). However, after the events of "Dissent", she can't stand him anymore and sends him away.

Merrill (Rival): Honestly, Marian found her a bit annoying at first, and Merrill’s use of blood magic didn’t help improve her opinion of her. But for the most part, Merrill’s sort of a neutral presence to have around, and Marian gets used to her over time. For her part, Merrill finds Marian fascinating but equally aggravating. Since in my headcanon, Merrill becomes close friends with Sebastian, she can’t really understand why he likes Marian as much as he does, but she acknowledges that they both seem good for each other. Also, because Marian softens up towards Act 3, she makes more of an effort to befriend Merrill, due to her being Sebastian’s best friend. She takes a more active role in looking out for her — they’re still by the game’s logic “rivals”, because there was no way Marian trusted that whole eluvian thing so she didn’t give Merrill the tool she needed to fix it, but they have a lot of conversations afterwards that sort of mend that rift.

Fenris (Friend): He’s actually Marian’s best friend. They’re both brooding, aggressive assholes. He’s the only person who doesn’t give her shit for her attitude and even encourages her at times, so she finds him easier to talk to. Fenris likes having her around, too, since she never gets on his case about his feelings towards magic unlike some OTHER mages he knows. Soon enough, Marian is confiding in him, and he in her. He’s the first person she tells about her growing crush on Sebastian (though he knows her well enough by that point that he already guessed she had a Thing for him). They can communicate pretty much exclusively through grunts and eye contact, to the confusion of most people around them.

Isabela (Rival): They got along well enough, at first. Isabela thought Marian was a riot, though like Varric, she though she could use more tact. Marian thought Isabela was fine, she just wished she would stop flirting with her. Then the Tome of Koslun thing was revealed and Marian was PISSED. She hates that Isabela lied to all of them for years, she hates that she was stupid enough to steal a religious relic from the fucking Qunari, she hates that she was inadvertently protecting the reason the Qunari were stuck in Kirkwall for so long. Marian absolutely despises the Qunari and hated dealing with them (though ironically she earned the Arishok’s respect), so she ended up blaming Isabela for that, too. So it was kind of a shock that Marian didn’t let the Arishok take Isabela when she returned with the Tome. She was tempted to, but she didn’t want to give the Arishok anything else. They never really recover from the incident. She also doesn’t help Isabela get her new ship (I’m not letting a goddamn slaver walk away just so you can have a new ship, seriously.)

Aveline (Rival): Honestly, they don’t interact much, because I think it’s weird that the captain of the guard would go traipsing around old dwarven ruins and the sewers with Marian and her gang of rabble-rousers. They have more a professional type relationship, with Aveline calling in Marian if she needs something done that the guard can’t normally handle on their own. Marian doesn’t care because she gets paid. She helps Aveline with Donnic, though, because at the time she was asked, she was still dealing with her apparently “hopeless” crush on a certain chantry brother. So she figures, shit, someone in this shithole city deserves to be happy, even if it’s Aveline. She’s (rightfully) furious with Aveline after the whole “All That Remains” incident, but I think she doesn’t take it as personally because they’re not friends. She does start charging more for her services afterwards, and I think Aveline feels guilty enough that she doesn’t protest that.

Sebastian (Friend): I think I’ve gone on enough about Marian and Sebastian that I don’t really need to elaborate on how they feel about each other. I will say, that due to Sebastian’s influence, Marian becomes much more “diplomatic” (though not completely. She’s still a bitch at heart ❤️). She lets herself be vulnerable and remorseful, in large part thanks to his counsel. Maybe enough so that she tries to repair some of her bad relationships (like Merrill, and I think she tries to smooth things over with her mother and later uncle Gamlen, too). On his end, I think Marian’s influence makes Sebastian bolder and more assured. I like the idea of these two polar opposites finding each other and helping each other heal, even taking on some of the other’s traits (though ultimately remaining themselves at their core).

(Bonus) Tallis: Marian hates Tallis. You can’t say shit like “I think you’d be happy under the Qun” to a mage (you know, they people whose mouths they sew shut) and expect her to just be chill with you afterwards. Plus, you know, she misled Marian about the Heart, got her captured, and still had the audacity to ask for her help without explaining what was really going on.

[leomonwell]

Addressing Mental Health in the Black Community

Today, I’m excited to bring you a conversation that’s as powerful as it is necessary. Dave Tucker, joined me on my podcast to share his journey through the medical system, particularly his experiences with depression.

Dave’s story is a reflection of what many of us go through, especially in the Black community, where mental health often takes a backseat. We talked about the highs and lows of his journey and, most importantly, how he found a way forward. His insights are not just eye-opening but also a call to action for anyone struggling silently. Watch the full episode on YouTube OR continue reading below:

Depression: The Unseen Battle

One of the first things Dave opened up about was his struggle with depression. It’s something that doesn’t just come and go—it can linger, especially when left unaddressed. For Dave, the loss of his grandmother triggered a deep sadness that morphed into anger. He explained how, in our community, this often gets dismissed as just another instance of the “Angry Black Man” stereotype. But the truth is, the anger often masks a deeper pain—a wound that never had the chance to heal because no one was willing to ask the right questions or provide the right support.

This brings up a critical point Dave made: when people ask, “How are you?” the expected answer is “I’m good,” even when we’re not. He’d prefer people ask, “What are you?” because it invites a more meaningful conversation. It’s a simple shift that could make a big difference in how we connect and understand each other.

Mental Health and the Black Community: A Tough Conversation

We explored why mental health struggles often go unspoken in the Black community. From a young age, many of us hear dismissive responses like, “What do you have to be depressed about?” This minimizes our feelings and teaches us to suppress our emotions rather than express them. Dave pointed out that this dismissiveness often extends into adulthood, making it hard for Black men, in particular, to seek help.

The importance of representation in healthcare also came up. Dave shared how much more comfortable it was for him to talk to someone who understood his background and experiences. While he acknowledges that anyone can offer support regardless of their race, there’s something reassuring about seeing yourself in the person helping you. It’s not about exclusion but about comfort and trust.

Finding a Way Out

Dave’s turning point came when he realized his unhealthy coping mechanisms—excessive drinking and other destructive behaviors—were only making things worse. It took a visit to a doctor who listened, understood, and didn’t jump straight to medication. With the help of therapy, Dave began to turn things around. His therapist didn’t just treat the symptoms; she helped him find healthy ways to cope, without immediately resorting to medication.

Dave’s therapy journey wasn’t smooth at first. Like many, he was skeptical about opening up to a stranger. But over time, he found that therapy was a safe space where he could be himself without judgment. He emphasized that therapy doesn’t have to be forever. It’s about growth and progress. Sometimes that means moving from weekly sessions to bi-weekly ones, and eventually to a place where you don’t need therapy as often—or at all.

Advice for Those on the Fence

Dave’s advice to anyone on the fence about seeking mental health support is simple: Recognize the signs, listen to those who care about you, and find what works for you. Whether it’s virtual therapy, a chat board, or in-person sessions, the key is to start somewhere. He also highlighted the importance of holistic approaches—methods that focus on the whole person, not just the symptoms.

Mental health doesn’t have to be a forever battle. With the right support, we can all move toward a better, healthier future. As Dave said, “You don’t know what people are going through. Every step forward, regardless of how small, is progress.”

This conversation is just the beginning. We must continue to break the silence around mental health, especially within the Black community. Because at the end of the day, caring for our mental health is just as crucial as caring for our physical health.

If you’re struggling, know that it’s okay to seek help. As Dave’s story shows, it’s never too late to turn things around.

[trans-rights-adam-jensen]

I read another James Swallow DX novel because 2 and 1/2 people told me to

*Inhales*

Sidenote: I refer to Janus as a He/They because I want to and because literally in canon they refuse to acknowledge a gender.  I do not think they care what pronouns you use.  Also in at least one instance, Lebedev DOES refer to Janus as ‘them’. 

Icarus effect notes:

-So far this reads the best of his DX work, if a little overly descriptive and redundant

-What is with Kelso and Ryan?  (maybe it will be revealed later?)  What does “diminished by your augs” mean???  Unattractive???  Why is that where the Senator went?  Hello? EDIT OH HOLY SHIT KELSO AND RYAN'S RELATIONSHIP IS SO IMPORTANT AND GOOD AND HEARTBREAKING OH MY GOD.

-Still a bit of an awkward disconnect with gender stuff.  Annoying to have Anna respond with a “I’m not like other girls” or “I’m not like other augs” reaction. 

-“Strike Team Six”  Oh ffs we GET IT Seal Team Six reference.

-Ben: I like violence.  I like being a soldier.  Also Ben: but not shooting innocents??? 

…Babe, those go hand in hand.

-The background stuff is pretty well written—but again, a little too many idioms/expressions.  Nobody talks like that.  It feels like the scene I wrote with the grunt from Paths who was trying to sound cool and his teammate had no idea what on earth he was saying. 

-ok so ben’s whole deal is lack of identity.  Got it. 

-I do like that they’re both orphaned simultaneously.

-Jimmy is doing a pretty good job of capturing the manipulation of saxon; about how being alone makes you vulnerable. 

-I don’t like Barrett as much as the next person, but can we not equate scarring with ugliness?

-Gunther likes Fanta????  Is this like known lore or did you just do that because you wanted to Jimmy?  If the latter, legendary.

-Literally why is Ben questioning anything now?  He never questioned Belltower.  So it’s okay to do stuff if you understand it’s all about money?  But then when morals are involved, that’s weird shit?  Just feels odd.

-About Yelena:

…”Valley”, Jim?  Really?  “Breeches”, Mr. Swallow?   Also I do not know what this scene achieves.  Maybe I’m just Ace on Main.  But ???? 

-The parts about Kelso are good.  There’s actual feeling there?  Saxon’s sections are like.  Why do I care, again?  Nothing around him is explained, nothing he comes up with is explained, shit just happens, and he sure is there.  There’s no real vulnerability.  Even his PTSD symptoms are framed as rage mode, never inconvenient. 

Idk if this is a “Kelso is a woman and ergo more irrational” thing—and ironically, if so: can you write your men more like that???  Tired of reading about people with half a feeling 600 feet away under a camouflage blanket.  SMFH.

-“What he was doing now went against every moral code Saxon believed in”  He has a moral code???  More than one???

-Completely unrelated to the story itself: I developed a headcanon voice for Lebedev immediately.  It’s something like a gentler, warmer version of Erik Dellums’ Nazir from Skyrim. 

-Not specific to Mr. Swallow but take a shot every time somebody uses the terms “psychosis” “sociopath” “psychopath” etc., for anything they find amoral.  Leave neurodivergent people out of your judgement, thanks.

-“the part of Anna that was still an officer of the law wanted to see them dragged screaming into the light”  FFS JAMES LET THE COP SHIT GO

-The way Janus is cast to have almost… premonitions? definitely makes me think they are an AI.  I’m sticking with my “older version of Eliza gone rogue” theory, personally.  This also explains their obsession with using psych profiles to understand people. 

-I do not buy Ben replacing his legs so easily, but I’ll ignore it because I’m too exhausted to care, tbh.

-Kelso catching Ben tho, I’m here for that.

-Yelena’s preference for not speaking?  Ok, we support that in this household.  Go girl give us nothing <3 (I don’t care for her as a character tho, but we’re not supposed to)

-There’s a conversation, at least, happening here about augs.  One being Janus citing them as a way to free humanity from the influence of the Illuminati, the other being the Tyrants’ genuine view that their augs make them superior humans.  What I don’t hear, and what HBomberguy mentioned in his HR video essay, is a discussion about augs and a greater conversation about disability.  I liked the talk at the beginning about Kelso saying employers can’t discriminate against naturals in hiring, but how that’s so obviously untrue.  How workplaces might pressure their employees into getting augs.  There’s a lot there, and I feel like it should get some more attention.

And I think they were supposed to, especially with how at the end, the last zone Adam traverses through are full of workers who could not do the work they did without being augmented.  Just, to an extent, like him. 

-“I have done questionable things, it’s disturbing.” “I’m trying to make amends.  I don’t know if I can do any more.”  And then being severely upset, “this is the last time”,,, hits me a little in the guts.  It’s interesting to know that Janus has things they won’t do, most of all that they consider manipulation of cops a violation of some kind.  I have two arrows right now on my Janus Pepe Silvia board and one of them is pointed HARD at “AI with programmed or learned morality and difficulty understanding prioritization, sociopolitical strife, and emotional nuance; Triply so if he is a copy of an Eliza variant horrified by what his masters had him do” and the other is “he just like me FR Neurodivergent as HELL and takes severe psychic damage from specific types of actions”  Both of them have melted me, Janus is officially granted a rent-free living space in my brain. 

-The boat scene cutting to Namir and it just turns into “Presidential Alert: The girls are fightingggggg”

-The burning of Icarus is definitely symbolic and shit but I literally? Don't care and I'm not going to decide what it means to me in context. I don't think the games are going to do what I want with their story, so I will pretend I do not see it.

-Ah yes the trope of kissing someone to save them.  Fair enough, no disrespect, well executed and well-foreshadowed.

I’m done.  I’m free of Swallow.  Now I can finish my OWN damn writing. 

[folklorelise]

That one time the kids called you “mom”

HC / OS (i don’t know) about that one time the kids called you “mom” and that one-time Jean called Captain Levi “dad” (not related with the “being a mom to the survey corps” -- you’re a squad leader in this).

 -          Armin

Armin was a smart kid and he loved spending time at the survey corps library. Armin grew up with his grandfather and he had to work very hard to provide enough food for the both of them. When Armin’s grandfather died, he was still a kid. When they all joined the survey corps, Armin instantly loved you – you would always be in the library, reading different books every week. He obviously wanted to come to you and talk about books with you, but that boy was too shy. You were a squad leader which meant that you were his superior officer.

You would notice Armin of course. He would always read and study strategies sitting in front of you. Sometimes he would open his mouth, thinking ‘today I’ll talk to her’ but he never did. Once you decided that you would start the conversation, but as soon as you put your book down, Armin ran away. After that, you told Levi, your boyfriend, what happened earlier.

“I think he’s scared of me.” You admitted.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Why did he run away then?”

“Maybe he needed to take a sh!t. Like really needed to so he ran away.”

Meanwhile in Armin’s bedroom, with Eren and Mikasa.

“Why did you do that?” Mikasa asked.

“I don’t know!” Armin inquired, “I’m so embarrassed right now.”

“That was a weird move.” Eren admitted, “Next time just say something, anything really.”

That very next day, Armin was determined to tell you how much he wanted to discuss books with you. He saw you at your usual place and he took his. He repeated his sentence over and over, ‘squad leader Y/N I’ve seen you here multiple times and I’d like to discuss books together.’ But before he could say anything, you started to talk.

“Why did you run off yesterday?” you asked.

“Books.” Armin shouted which only startled you a little, “I like books and you do too.”

“I do like to read.”

After that, Armin was more and more comfortable around you. You would always read together before an expedition or after an intense training day – it became your little tradition.

A few weeks later, Armin wanted to talk to you as soon as possible. He has read a book that he knew you would like, and he needed to tell you about it. He was eating with his friends and when he saw you and Captain Levi entering the mess hall, he shouted “MOM! I-“and stopped immediately after.

Everyone was staring at him and all Armin wanted at this moment was to be eaten by a titan. You on the other side were just smiling widely at Armin.

“You look like a creep, stop smiling.” Levi told you.

After dinner, you went to the library and found Armin sitting at your usual table, arms crossed on the table with his head on his arms.

“Armin, hey. How are you feeling?”

“Embarrassed. I – I don’t know why I called you that.”

“It’s fine, you don’t have to worry about it.” you reassured him.

“But I embarrassed you too!”

“Who said you did?”

“Everyone was laughing.” Armin guessed.

Then, you spend your night like you always do which is reading together until Levi came to bring you back to bed.

“Good night Armin.” Levi told him before leaving.

“Good night Captain, squad leader.”

“Good night… son.” you finished before joining Levi, laughing slightly.

 —————

-          Eren

Eren was outside with all the others resting after training with Levi. They were discussing their skills after Levi made them do hand to hand combat to know who could have a day off from cleaning duties (it was your idea – Levi would never give a day off for cleaning).

“I am obviously the best here.” Jean acknowledged.

“Mikasa won against you!” Eren screamed back.

“Yeah, but I’m talking about us. Today, I won!” Jean replied.

“That’s because I was too tired from the titan experiments!”

“Riight. You are a titan. You shouldn’t even be tired!”

“Yeah because you know everything!” Eren shouted even louder.

Both were ready to fight, but they were expecting their friends to stop them, but they were just talking between them, ignoring their little dispute. Both of them just stared at each other, waiting for something to happen or someone but nothing – so they just stared at each other awkwardly. Eren spotted you not too far away and screamed at the top of his lungs:

“MOM! WE NEED YOUR HELP!”

You were taking a walk with Levi as one of your rituals with him since during daytime, you could hardly see each other. You both looked at Eren surprised but still walked towards him and his friends.

“Yes? What did you need me for?”

“Eren said he was better than me at hand-to-hand combat which is obviously not true.” Jean explained.

“You agree with me, right?” Eren said to you.

“Hm…” you turned to Levi expecting help, but he just had a smirk on his face, waiting for you answer too. “Well… I mean…” you paused each time a word was said, “I just want to say that I love you guys but it’s late and I’m tired,” you tried to avoid the topic of the conversation. “Levi, let’s leave the kids.”

“But m-“ Eren suddenly stopped his sentence and thought ‘wait, did I just almost called squad leader Y/N mom? Did I call her mom earlier?’

“What’s wrong Eren?” Mikasa asked.

“Nothing, squad leader Y/N,” Eren insisted on these words heavily, “is right, it’s late, let’s all go to sleep.” Eren then run to his bedroom.

“Such a weirdo.” Levi stated before walking away with you.

In the middle of the night, Eren was still awake thinking about what he said. He was moving loudly, and Armin woke up very annoyed.

“Eren stop moving so energetically!”

“I’m not.” Eren mumbled.

“What’s wrong?”

“Did I call squad leader… you know.”

“Did you do an Armin? Yes. You call her mom. Welcome to the club! Now sleep.”

 —————

-          Mikasa

Mikasa was hanging with Eren and Armin outside after dinner. Eren and Armin were frenetically about Eren’s next prank on Jean.

“You always prepare something either too dangerous or just normal dangerous. Jean could get hurt!” Armin protested.

“That’s the idea I was going for. Plus, it’s not that dangerous.”

“You want to push him off the wall!”

“Yeah, but he has his gear on and we’ll just all laugh at this anyway. Right Mikasa?” Eren asked her friend.

“Jean could die if he doesn’t use his gear.” Mikasa observed.

“He’s not that stupid.” Eren replied.

“Ask mom then and look at her being disappointed by you.” Mikasa told them.

They both turned their head towards Mikasa and glared at her, with a shocked look.

“What?”

“You just called squad leader Y/N ‘mom’” Eren burst out laughing.

“No, I didn’t. I said mom… as in…” Mikasa tried to correct herself.

“Yeah right, what other mom you possibly could be talking about?” Eren pointed out.

“It’s because you two keep calling her that! And I just forgot her name and…” Mikasa defended herself, “It’s your fault!”

“It’s fine, that makes the three of us in the club!” Armin shouted.

 —————

-          Historia

Everyone just discovered that Historia was the rightful heir to the throne, and no one knew what to do.

“Fine. Then run.” Levi said taking Historia by her blouse collar.

“Oh my, Levi!” you screamed rushing towards Historia. “Let her go!”

Levi let her go and left. You took Historia in your arms as she was ready to collapse on the ground.

“Are you okay sweetie?” you questioned her worried. She just held you close and thanked you. “Levi didn’t mean it. I’m going to ask to apologise.”

“It’s fine. He’s right. I should do something about this.” Historia waited a few minutes before saying “thanks mom,” blushing.

Everyone else wanted to throw a comment but no one dared after seeing you glaring at them. Only Armin whispered “welcome to the club” for himself.

 —————

 -          Annie

Instructor Shadis sent you a letter asking you a favour. He was feeling ill and asked you to substitute him while he recovers. You obviously agreed to it. You were surprised at how Annie was at hand-to-hand combat.

“Who taught you that?” you asked marvelled by her technique.

“My father.”

“Well good job!”

The whole time you were here you would constantly compliment her. You would really compliment everyone on their asset.

One night, Annie was outside with Reiner and Bertolt, talking together.

“I like squad leader Y/N, she is nice.” Reiner said in a moment of silence.

“Or she could just pretend to be nice so we wouldn’t try so hard when she’s here and that’s how we fail.” Annie pointed out.

“She’s not like that.” Bertolt insisted, “She seems genuinely nice. Never felt that supported in such a long time.”

“Yeah.” Reiner agreed.

Annie did not want to say it, but she agreed with them. You were always so supportive, always encouraging people do to better. Always telling them that they did a great job when they messed up. Annie wanted to add something, but she heard footsteps and she turned around ready to fight but it was only you.

“Mom! I was ready to fight you.” Annie yelled.

“What did you just call squad leader Y/N?” Reiner asked surprised.

“I– I said mam.”

“No, you said mom.” Reined laughed.

“NO! I said mam as in sir but for a woman!”

“I just wanted to make sure you guys were alright,” you admitted, “it’s late and I don’t want you guys to be tired since I know how instructor Shadis can be.”

“Instructor Shadis?” Bertolt asked.

“Yes, he’s feeling much better and he’s coming back tomorrow. I also came to say goodbye since I’m leaving tonight. I wish you luck and I know you guys are going to be amazing!” you end your little speech with a hug to each one of them. “I’ll probably see you around if you ever decide to join the survey corps.”

Annie was right, she was going to miss you.

 —————

-          Sasha

Sasha was a great kid, a great fighter but more importantly, she was a food lover. She never had enough food at lunch or dinner. She would always ask her friend for their bread or a piece of their meat when they did eat meat.

Once, Sasha was late to dinner because she had cleaning duties and she was a slow cleaner which made her late. Being late meant no food too but she still came to the kitchen hoping for leftovers – there were none. She went to the mess hall and collapse on the table. She heard a person sat down in front of her but did not move.

“You should eat Sasha.” she heard.

“No food.”

“Look up.”

She did and there was a tray with a bowl of soup that was still hot and two pieces of bread. She gasped and started to cry tears of joy.

“Thank you, mom! I was so hungry!” Sasha thanked you with her mouth full of a mix of soup and bread.

“You’re welcome, next time you can come to me and I’ll help you clean alright?” you told her.

You waited for her to be finished before going back to your bedroom. In the middle of that night, Sasha suddenly woke up, panting.

“What’s wrong?” Mikasa asked ready to fight an intruder.

“Nooo. I’m in the club now too.” Sasha realised.

“What? You called squad leader Y/N mom too?” Mikasa joked.

“Yeah…”

 —————

 -          Jean

Jean had cleaning duties in the equipment area. He and Connie were talking and being careless as usual when they were cleaning. So careless that Jean somehow caused a shelf full of heavy books to fall on his leg.

When Connie explained to you what happened you rushed to where Jean was. You and Connie helped Jean out and took him to the infirmary. Jean was now on bed rest for at least a week since he could not move his right leg anymore.

“How am I going to live now?” Jean complained after hearing the news.

“I’m taking care of you until further notice.” you reassured him.

Levi decided that Jean would still be attending training even if that meant only watching. After two weeks, Jean was still hurt – according to him anyway. Which the nurse found weird because that type of injury did not last long if he was resting correctly which is something you made sur of. Levi told you that it was suspicious, but you believed Jean.

“Your love for this kid is making you blind! Jean is obviously fine now!” Levi told you desperately every night.

“He’ll get better, if he’s still hurt and he goes back training then he might not be able to fight at all.” you explained.

You should have believed Levi because one day, you were stuck in a meeting with Commander Erwin which meant you couldn’t stay with the cadets training. Thankfully, the meeting ended sooner than you thought so you went to see the kids, only to find Jean perfectly healthy, on his feet, fighting Eren.

“JEAN KIRSTEIN YOU SON OF A B–“ you yelled.

“NO!” Jean screamed collapsing to the ground dramatically, “It’s not what you think mom! NO!” Jean put his hands on his mouth.

“Oouh Jean called squad leader Y/N ‘mom’” Eren chanted.

“Now that they almost all called you mom,” Hange stated coming out of nowhere, “does that mean Levi is their daddy?”

 —————

-          That one-time Jean called Captain Levi ‘dad’

It was during one of the expeditions outside. You brought tents and prepared them but none of you wanted to sleep yet. You built a fire, and all sat around it. The cadets took turn telling horror stories and once Jean was done, you all applauded him.

“That was great.” Levi complimented him.

“Thanks, daaa–ptain!” Jean corrected himself hallway through his sentence.

Everyone burst out laughing and Jean was blushing hard, while Levi was only smirking drinking his tea.

“Jean, it’s official, you’re their kid now.” Hange kept laughing.

“I’m so embarrassed.” Jean grunted, “I’m sorry d– captain! What is wrong with me!”  

 —————

From then on, they wouldn’t even hide the fact that they all called you mom from time to time. At one point, new recruits thought that it was you name so some of them would call you “squad leader mom”.

MASTERLIST

[frostedfaves]

Naive (2)

Masterlist

Pairing: demon!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: You quickly discover that Wanda is different during the night.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, dark!fic, demon things™️, mental manipulation, smut: oral, fingering, overstimulation, edging, penetration, sex toy use, dom/sub dynamics, biting, slapping(? just a lil)

A/N: no more thoughts except please share your own after reading this! writing this slutty shit kept me sane today so enjoy

Previous part

-

To your surprise and relief that eventually transformed into disappointment, Wanda didn’t make an appearance at all for the rest of the week. You spent each shift for the next few days anticipating her return, watching for her over the heads of shorter customers and through the shelves on your way in and out of the bookstore. You were starting to think that she was simply passing through your town and you were just lucky enough to cross paths with her.

“Hi there.”

“Wanda!” you yelp after looking up from your phone hidden behind the register, clearing your throat as you tuck it in your pocket. “Um, can I get you anything?”

“I’m surprised you remember me,” she laughs. “I’m sure you get hundreds of customers a day.” 

“You left a lasting impression,” you admit before you can stop yourself and she grins.

“So did you.”

There’s a brief pause before she adds your name to the end of her sentence with a flicker of something unrecognizable in her eyes that sends a shiver down your spine. Not knowing what else to do with yourself, you go to ask again what she’d like in the same moment she places a bottle of water on the counter.

“I got a really good recommendation the last time I was here, and I’d like to have it again.”

“Coming right up.” You ring up the exact same order, letting your gaze wander to her hand again as she inserts her card. “I never got to tell you how much I love your rings.”

“What?” She lifts her hand after removing her card and chuckles breathlessly. “Oh yeah, thanks.”

A frown appears on your features when you notice the way she grabs the receipt from you, almost as if she’s actively avoiding brushing fingers with you in the same way she did during her last visit. You’re able to replace the frown with a customer service smile, but you can’t shake the feeling that you experienced rejection before even posing a question. 

“I’ll bring it out to you soon,” you tell her before moving to the glass case, grabbing the food items and frowning again when you find her staring at you from the other side. “Is there something else I can get you?”

“What time do you get off today?” she asks in a rushed fashion.

“What?”

“I mean do you have any plans when your shift is done? I meet people all day long and you’re the first person that I’ve wanted to have a conversation with that lasts longer than a few minutes,” she explains a bit slower. 

“I only have an hour left,” you tell her as you slide her food into the oven. “What did you have in mind?”

“Maybe you could show me what fun things I could get into in this area. I’m a bit further away, Lane County, but I’m starting to enjoy it here more.”

“Well there’s a fair happening on the other side of town, if you don’t mind a long bus ride. I’m guessing you don’t since you live in Lane and you somehow ended up here.”

“Oh, I have a car.” She holds up her car keys with a grin and you laugh.

“Well then…” You pause and look over the counter to see that she’s wearing pants today. “I hope you’re not afraid of rollercoasters.”

-

Aside from the occasional flirting when you have no customers, Wanda waits patiently at the same table as before, standing and joining you the moment you reappear on the other side of the counter without your apron. Her rings are tucked away again, and she dares to brush her knuckles against yours as the two of you leave the bookstore.

“Let me get that for you,” she insists, jogging ahead of you to open the car door and you laugh.

“Is this a date? Should I be nervous right now?” you ask in a joking tone, well aware that you’re genuinely wondering.

“Only if you want it to be.”

You take a deep breath while she crosses to the driver’s side, offering her a casual smile once she’s seated next to you. She denies your request to give her the address, insisting that she’ll be able to follow your directions better instead of admitting that she just wants to hear your voice as much as possible. So you lead her to the expansive fairgrounds on the other side of town, feeling excitement build in your heart the closer you get to your destination.

“This place must hold some memories for you,” Wanda acknowledges your wide grin as she parks.

“No, I just haven’t been in a while,” you admit as you both get out of the car. “Friends are too busy and I try to avoid nighttime bus rides as much as possible.”

“You know, I don’t mind giving you rides at night. I’m well aware that public transportation isn’t the safest form of travel.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that! You live too far.”

“Okay then.” Wanda meets you near the fair entrance and grabs your hand, sliding her fingers between yours. “I won’t give you the chance to ask.”

The two of you are latched onto each other, fingers intertwined the whole night aside from being secured on rides or bathroom trips. You’re walking into the games area, each holding a drink when you suddenly pull Wanda over to a booth. 

“Sorry, I just saw that huge giraffe and wanted to try to win it!” you explain as you release her hand to grab a ticket from your pocket. “Can you hold my drink?”

While your back is turned, Wanda sets both drinks on a nearby table and slips her rings onto her hands, returning just in time for you to finish the game. She hands your drink back to you carefully and reaches out to grab the small stuffed toy you’re offered, brushing her fingers against the attendant’s hand as she did so.

“She wants the giraffe,” she threatens, retreating with a pleased smile when he immediately pulls it down for you. “Thank you!”

“How did you do that?!” you question as she hands it to you. “I mean thank you so much, but wow. I’ve never seen anyone give in so easily.”

“I’ve spent most of my life figuring out how to get what I want, love,” she tells you in a low tone, and a shiver travels down your spine when her hand makes contact with your hip. “What do you think about getting out of here?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you agree quietly, starting to feel as if every other thought that enters your mind is incoherent. “Where do you want to go?”

“I’m taking you home.”

You assume she followed up on her word because you find yourself outside of your apartment building, and her hand closes around your wrist before you can leave the car.

“I had a lot of fun with you tonight.”

“Me too,” you admit, unable to prevent the smile that appears. “I guess this means you’re interested in more than friendship with me.”

“Is it that obvious?” She chuckles quietly as she raises her free hand to your jaw, watching you silently fall against her palm. “I’d bet you’d be a wonderful partner. My best girl.”

“I’d be so good for you,” you reply without hesitation, beginning to feel fuzzy and warm the longer she holds onto you.

“Yeah?” 

Your wrist drops onto the center console as the hand that isn’t resting on your jaw slips under the elastic waistband of your pants and underwear. You gasp when her fingertips begin teasing your entrance, bucking your hips slightly when you feel pressure on your clit.

“Wanda--”

“Shh, it’s okay, darling,” she assures you, slipping her thumb between your parted lips and grinning when they close around her without a fight. “I want to see how good you can be for me.”

She uses her middle finger to stroke slowly over your clit, eyes flickering over to your hips occasionally as they follow her movements. Her thumb slips further into your mouth, and your eyes flutter open when her ring touches your lips and a new sensation follows.

“You’re fine,” she soothes you when you let out a muffled whimper, sighing when she notices a group of people turn the corner at the end of the block and begin heading your way. “Let’s go inside. I don’t need an audience.”

Her fingers are removed from your underwear and in her mouth in seconds, and she practically growls as she cleans the bit of mess you left behind. You hurry out of the car and lead Wanda to your apartment, even in your haze able to remember to get her inside before Ruth sees you. In a few blinks, she’s hovering over you on the bed, and just when you think you can’t handle any more overwhelming sensations, she kisses you.

It’s breathtaking, quite literally you feel air leaving your lungs as if she’s stealing it herself. Your eyes feel like they’re glued shut and the grip she has on your waist is almost painful, but you can’t bring yourself to complain when she’s guiding you to grind on her thigh. Her lips are replaced with two of her fingers as she begins making her way down your body, carefully undressing you with her free hand and biting and kissing the skin she exposes.

“You’re unbearably wet,” she comments from between your legs, dipping her tongue inside you while stroking yours with her fingertips and humming loudly so you’ll arch into her more. “So fucking good.”

Her tongue is replaced with her fingers, and she begins slowly pumping in and out of you while sucking on your clit just to get a reaction. She grabs your hands as they go for her hair and hold them together by the wrists, readjusting so that her thumb can circle your clit when she pulls her head away.

“Being good means not touching unless I tell you to,” she scolds.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize breathlessly through moans as she picks up her pace while adding another finger.

“You’ll have plenty of time to learn. I’ve decided to make you mine.” She continues to finger you as she brings herself back over you, ignoring your gasp when you notice her darkened eyes and pinning your hands above your head. “I can’t wait to make it official.”

Her head dips down and you fall over the edge just as she sucks your earlobe into her mouth, thrusting into you forcefully as she continues you fuck you well past the end of your orgasm while her other hand pushes your pinned wrists into the mattress as hard as she can. You’re just about to cum again when she pulls away entirely, quickly unzipping her pants and freeing a toy she had tucked away.

“That’s really big,” you comment with wide eyes that immediately flutter closed when she pushes the head of the toy inside you. “Fuck.”

“Watch your mouth,” she warns you with a quick slap on your cheek, lowering her hand to hold onto your neck just below your jaw while thrusting into you more. “If it’s so big, why is my pussy swallowing it so easily?”

“Because I want it,” you whine, releasing a loud moan when she slams her hips against yours. “Please please please, I want it.”

“I know you do, love.”

Her other hand pins your wrist against the mattress again as she leans forward and begins fucking into you as hard as she can. She slips her thumb back into your mouth to reduce your screams to muffled whines, grinning to herself when you sink your teeth into her flesh a few times.

“Begging for something you can’t even handle,” she teases, prying your mouth open with her thumb as she lowers her head closer to yours. “Perhaps we should start over.”

She waits until you start to cum and slips her tongue into your waiting mouth, and everything goes dark.

[sukirichi]

Breakfast: ingredient 64 + sugar 5 for inumaki

Okay, but like- what about inumaki's first kiss? His mouth is a very sensitive area and his first kiss would be a very intimate act, so here's what happens: reader and him are mutually pining BUT all everyone else sees is the sexual tension between them.

Somehow itadori manages to lock them in a dark small space, where they share their first kiss, yet they don't speak about it and to each other for a long time. At some point itadori (i swear this kid is a matchmaker) points out how y/n and toge can't even glance at each other and inumaki breaks. Late at night he shows up at reader's dorm, pins her to the wall and kisses her like no tomorrow. After they eventually have a rough make out with toge's shirt coming off, they lay on her bed where reader tells him she really likes him and he grabs her chin to stop her rambling and she looses it when she sees so much love and lust swirling in his eyes (they maybe have a third make out round 👀) and in the end they come to the conclusion they love each other and that they should have acted sooner on it.

I don't know if make outs count as nsfw and i read that you can write only sfw for inumaki, so it's okay if you can't complete this request. Just let me know you if can't.

Also get prepared to be spoiled spammed with asks.

— 🍰 strawberry shortcake anon

delicate

the first kiss with inumaki toge is as delicate as he is.

meal order: ★🥞 + 64 (canon au) + 5 (mutual pining) + sensitive first kiss with inumaki, them trapped in a room + yuuji as matchmaker uwu + WALL PIN KISS YES SIR + basically hot af inumaki

warnings: nothing really, just make out sessions and implications of smut, also UH soft dom inumaki toge, i guess? unedited as always

song i listened to while writing: I.F.L.Y. by Bazzi

note: 🍰 anon TYSM for this request, my heart was legit doki doki the whole time. this totally reminds me of why inumaki was my first crush and he’s the reason i came to watch jjk lol i love him so much <3 i hope this is what you’ve been looking for and that you like it! i had a lot of fun writing this one!

“Yuuji, don’t!” You tried to scramble against the strawberry haired boy’s grip, but he was far too strong, and it didn’t help that Nobara’s riled up self was helping him push you back inside the storage room. “Yuuji, Nobara, I’m your senpai, have some respect—” You don’t get to finish your words before you’re pushed inside, landing on the floor with a thud.

“Yuuji!” You banged your fists on the door once you’ve recovered, screaming at the top of your lungs. From outside the door, you heard the underclassmen giggle and run away, leaving you with your crush, Inumaki Toge, of all people.

Falling down into a squat, you wrapped your arms around yourself, refusing to look at him. You were only thankful that it was dark so Toge wouldn’t see how your pupils blew wide, your body responding at the soft scent of his perfume and laundry detergent. He’d been your crush for who knows how long now, and your first memory of meeting the cursed speech user burns at the back of your mind to remind you that it’s been years, and yet you’ve barely spoken to him.

Unlike the other students, your cursed technique wasn’t the most useful in combat. Your technique allowed you to nullify the abilities of others, but the downside of it was that it didn’t have much advantage against curses, so you had to rely on your physical strength to exorcise.

On the bright side, though…

“So,” Toge begins, shuffling away from the dusty wall and closer to you. Your heartbeat raced when his knees brushed against yours, thighs pressed against one another. “You’re a victim of them too.”

“Hmm, guess so.”

Neither of you speak for a while. Toge himself wasn’t much of a talker, and he barely batted an eye when Maki and Panda hauled his ass inside the storage room. He was so calm and placid that your mind was in mess – both because you were comfortable and happy in his presence, but at the same time, your palms were so sweaty and the room was so stuffed you could barely breathe. It didn’t help that Toge was humming too, reassured that he wasn’t going to hurt you with his powers.

“Uhm,” you started nervously, fiddling with your fingers. The silence stretched out thick and cordial that you couldn’t bear it anymore, and you turned to Toge with wide eyes, blinking back rapidly when he faced you as well, his deep purple eyes like a painting before you. “Do-do you know why we’re locked in here?”

Your palms grew wetter with each ticking second; Toge taking his time to answer.

Nobara had eavesdropped on you gushing to Megumi on how Toge looked so cute during breakfast this morning, and the girl immediately ran off to tell her best friend, Yuuji; the two of them sharing the same braincells.

Before you knew it, everyone split into two groups, your classmates dragging Toge away while Nobara and Yuuji manhandled you, hissing into your ear to man up and fess.

As if it was as easy as that! Inumaki Toge – albeit approachable and kind – was still the light of your life, the apple of your eye, and he barely acknowledged your presence the whole two years you’ve been with him. He was much closer with Maki and Panda while you got along more with the younger ones (although you wouldn’t hesitate to redact that statement after doing this to you), so the chances of you ever striking up a full conversation with him were low.

You only admired him from afar, sighing dreamily into your hands while he trained with Panda. Megumi seemed to be the only decent one, silent and bored as ever while you rambled on tirelessly on how much Toge looked so buff under his uniform yet had the face baby, stating over and over again he was born just to drive you crazy.

You should’ve known someone would find out one way or another, but heavens forbid, not him. The both of you were barely friends to begin with – you didn’t want to shatter whatever mutual respect you had for each other just because you crushed on him hard.

Mind running back and forth over the different ways Toge could reject you, because obviously someone had told him, or obviously he knew already – why else would he be locked here with you if your friends didn’t know something? It was getting hard to read his face from the darkness; the only thing you could make out were his long lashes and lips visible with his collar down.

“I don’t know, to be honest,” he avoided your gaze, and you swallowed audibly at the sound of his husky voice; unused to speaking this much. “But…but we’ve got nothing to worry about. Gojo-Sensei or Nanamin will come around soon.”

“Okay,” you nodded at his words, cursing inwardly that this was your perfect chance to confess or at least try and be friends with him, but your whole body was burning, feet frozen in your place that you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You watched from the corner of your eye as Toge rocked back and forth in his heels, cheeks puffed out, and your eyes zeroed in on the snake tattoo beside his lips.

Toge rarely ever let his collar down to muffle his voice, so seeing him expose his lips like this almost felt intimate. He looked so pretty, long lashes fluttering on top of those warmed cheeks and strong arms wrapped around his knees.

He was just an arm’s length away. This was the closest you’d ever gotten with him, and maybe it was because you’d kept your feelings a secret for so long that it suddenly burst through. Faster than you could take notice of yourself, your arm reached out to cup his cheeks, thumb swiping against the tattoos. “Pretty,” you murmured, Toge stiffening up under your touch.

His eyes skewed over to yours, wide and unreadable, but there was something there – something burning. He had to bite down his cheek as you caressed his face absentmindedly, and it wasn’t until his fingers came up to your wrist that you realized what you were doing.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, the warmth of his skin now searing because of your embarrassment. “Toge – I-I didn’t mean to – I’m so sorry! It’s just, your tattoos look so pretty and I’ve always—”

Your words are thrown right back into your mouth when Toge tugged you forward, sending the both of you toppling to the ground. Toge’s hands were delicate, just as delicate as your touch, when he cupped your face, his lips moving with yours. You were stunned for a moment before pleasure and fireworks exploding everywhere burst within you, prompting you to kiss him back in urgent fervor.

Toge’s lips tasted like candy, his sighs into your mouth melting your insides until you’re crumpling his shirt, eyes shut so tight in fear that maybe this would all disappear the moment you opened them.

Your hands travelled everywhere – from his shoulders, to his neck, his jaw – before it settled into his hair, the satisfaction of finally getting to run your hands through them has you weakening in his hold. Toge keeps his grip on your waist firm, almost possessive even, and he held you up both, sitting up while your arms wound around his neck.

A curse must’ve possessed you because you moaned into his mouth when he nipped at your bottom lip, tugging it inside his mouth so he could taste your cherry chapstick.

He wasn’t in a better state than yours. As the cursed speech user, his mouth was one of his most sensitive parts, and it took all energy it had in him to not kiss you senseless right then and there, your lips swiping over his mouth in such a mind-numbing sensation.

It felt like his body was on fire, the heat licking up from his toes to right where you were pressed on him. Your lips on his was scorching, the soft sighs and moans you gave him only adding to the fuel.

Toge groaned as your nails subconsciously pulled at his hair, making him grind you down into the V of his lips, pressing your chest firms against his until there was no more space. Through the darkness and nearly airless atmosphere of the room, Toge still managed to take your breath away, your lips moving in synch and you were falling, falling, falling.

He effortlessly held your weakening arms up before he pulled away, both your chests panting at the sudden heated kiss. His eyes trailed down from your lust-filled gaze to the bow of your lips, where the flesh was plump and abused.

Toge’s thumb swiped over your lips that had you frozen solid because he looked at you so gently, delicately, almost as if he didn’t want to hurt you. But he never could – you nullified everyone’s powers and allowed him freedom in your space. You’d let him come again and again, welcoming him with open arms if he wanted so, and in that moment, you believed he did.

Although why would he want you?

Fears and insecurities struck a chord in you and you scrambled away from his lap, leaving Toge all alone in the ground. You ducked your head down to ignore the confused and hurt expression on his face, turning back to the door instead. “I’m so sorry,” you rasped out in one breath, “I-I didn’t mean for that kiss to happen and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Please just forget this ever happened and I really wish you and I aren’t awkward for this. Okay, good night. See you around.”

Pulling your phone out of your pocket after cursing yourself for not thinking of texting Megumi sooner, you speed dialed the younger boy, begging him to unlock the door.

Megumi came around a few minutes later. Toge had long settled behind you, silent but still catching his breath from your previous lip-locking. His presence unnerved you and you rubbed your hands up and down your arms, praying to whoever divines self that Toge would forget about this as well. The moment Megumi came around, you leaped out of the room, leaving two confused boys – with one of them unknowingly shattered.

The next few days were hell.

You and Toge hadn’t talked much at all before, but now, you both pretended as if the other didn’t existed. During class where there had to be pairings, you immediately sided with Maki and pushing Panda to Toge’s way, the latter frowning behind his collar every time you avoided his gaze.

You just couldn’t handle being anywhere near him after that kiss. You feared that your heart would combust and you’d further embarrass yourself in front of him, as if you weren’t embarrassing enough with how excited you were as you kissed him.

Gosh, what would Toge think of you now?

You bet he found you so weird, and your suspicions were only confirmed when he’d resorted to avoiding you as well. No more polite and cheery good mornings! in the hallway or asking what he had for lunch, no more random texting of memes at 3am because you both didn’t have friends outside the institute.

Pure silence from the other side.

It should’ve comforted you – you wanted to stay away from him, right? – but you only grew restless. Your focus dwindled with each passing day, finding yourself at the back of Toge’s head longingly when he wasn’t looking, then sighing as you chastised yourself from being stupid.

To be honest, that kiss only made your feelings multiply tenfold.

Now that you knew how warm and comfortable Toge was to the touch, how his lips tasted and how his hair felt under your touch – you crushed on him impossibly harder than before.

You reached a point where you tossed and turn around in bed, unable to fall asleep; completely unaware that just a few doors down, he was doing the same. It had you thinking back to that day all over again, wondering why did he kiss you? If he liked you, why did he never talk to you? He never even noticed you before and you were always the first one to strike conversation, but because the others were always around, chats were limited, one-worded, and awkward.

That cursed technique of yours was still useless, after all.

“Would you please stop moping around?” Megumi slammed his book down on the table next to you, and you jumped in your seat, clutching your pencil to your chest. “I’m tired of you eye-fucking Inumaki-senpai.”

“Wha – ? No, I wasn’t, what are you talking about?”

“You’ve both been acting weird,” observed Yuuji who stopped fighting with Nobara over who would win in an arm wrestling fight without special abilities: Gojo-Sensei or Nanami. Nobara nodded beside him, stealing Yuuji’s crisp chips before speaking. “You both can’t even glance at each other. All of us can feel that something’s wrong between you two.”

“They probably fucked in the storage room.”

“Nobara, keep your voice down!”

“Why should I?” she smirked, jabbing her thumb to an asleep Toge lounging on the field with Panda. “Your precious crush is asleep. He won’t know. But whatever, what did happen when we locked you both there?”

“You all humiliated me, that’s what happened!”

“What do you mean humiliated?” Megumi asked this time around, and you buried your face in your arms, glancing over at Toge again. He was slumbering peacefully, his body shaded from the sun under the tree, and your fingertips itched with the urge to hold him close again.

“He doesn’t like me,” you concluded with trembling lips, sending one last longing glance at Toge. “And I think I just absolutely ruined everything.”

No matter how much your underclassmen tried to cheer you up, your spirits were never lifted. You trudged back to your room that night, tired and drained from all the events that you just buried your nose in your textbook, studying about curses for next week’s exams.

The words began to blur and you sighed on your seat, glancing at your phone. It was nearing midnight and the dorms were oddly quiet, but you guessed everyone just had a long day.

Soon, you brushed your teeth and moved to retire for the night when three soft knocks came from your door. Your hand stilled on your blanket, brows furrowed at who could it be this time of the night. After fixing your hair to make yourself presentable, you swung the door open, ready to hit Yuuji if he came here to drag you down to the movie room and force you to watch horror movies again when you were harshly pushed, the stranger kicking the door back.

You gasped as warm lips came crashing down to yours, your hands pinned above your hand with just one arm.

You didn’t have to open your eyes to know it was Toge who’d placed a knee between your legs to prevent you from falling; your knees already turning to jelly before you even registered it was him. The familiar taste of something sweet like candy and cough syrup coated your senses and you moaned in his arms as his hands ran under your shirt, making the hairs on your body prickle up in anticipation.

Toge took advantage of your moan, his tongue slipping inside before it clashed with yours. It was too much – his overwhelming scent, his tongue tasting yours, his hands squeezing your breasts tenderly – you were on the verge of falling apart.

Fire burned all over your body, pure instinct dominating your conscious mind as you pushed him back, Toge falling down with you scrambling above him.

He grunted at your sloppy actions of trying to tug his shirt over his head, but he complied, reaching up at the same time you leant down for another wet, heated kiss. The kiss this time around was far less gentle and more urgent; your mutual pining for one another tipping over the edge until all hell broke loose.

You settled into his lap as if it were a throne and he encouraged you to take it, to claim him because he considered you the queen of his world.

“Toge, I,” you rambled after every peck, unable to form a complete sentence because you kept wanting to kiss him. It was nearly impossible to pull away now that he held you so close, making you feel like home and driving you absolutely insane. “I can’t do it anymore, mmhm, I want you so much – always have – I don’t want to avoid you and I just want to—”

He stopped your rambling by grabbing your chin forwards, his lips molding over yours again and dancing with it like two perfectly syncopated performers.

Toge’s curious hands ravished every crevice and dip of your curves as he sucked on your tongue, tasting it fervently like a traveler memorizing his path. You shuddered when Toge’s nimble fingers travelled down to cup your ass to lift you upwards, pushing you closer and deeper into his mouth.

None of you cared about anything anymore. You could barely focus on anything but letting your hands roam free down his chest, Toge rutting up to you when your cold hands brushed over his nipple.

Needing air to breathe, you pulled away first, panting as your forehead pressed against his. You stared at each other, lips swollen and wet from the hot make-out session. You were sure that your adoration for him was clearly evident in your eyes, that your feelings for him sparkled and radiated like the bright sunshine’s warmth he always made you feel.

But that wasn’t what drove you crazy.

It was the fact his expression mirrored yours; only his had lust swirling around his dark eyes, an unexplainable plethora of emotions flooding through them. You were breathing hard and so was he, his soft pants warming your lips that were still sore from his hungry ministrations.

Now was the time.

It didn’t matter that maybe he didn’t feel the same way for you; you liked him so much. Your feelings poured over the glass and your eyes glossed over with how your heart frantically chanted his name, wanting nothing and no one else but him.

“I love you,” you confessed, “I fucking love you.”

To your surprise, Toge chuckled, pulling you forward until his chest was flushed against yours. He captured your lips for one last kiss, delicate this time around as his hands cupped your jaw. You tilted your hide to the side to deepen the kiss, and you sighed while Toge rubbed soothing circles at the sides of your jaw then down to your neck.

“You better,” he mumbled through your lips, “Because I fucking love you too, and I don’t want to play this game of push and pull anymore.”

It was your first time to hear such dominance in his words, to witness such need and possessiveness shine back through his eyes, his lips travelling to the sides of your face. Submissively, you arched your back to him and allowed him access to your neck, head lolling to the side. Even as Toge slowly but surely left little love bites to mark you as his, he was gentle and delicate, soft yet hard, bitter but sweet like the longing you had for one another.

Even as he had you trapped under his arms, his heat nestled into the deeper, intimate parts of you that only welcomed no one else but him; your lover was absolutely delicate.

And you only fell for him harder than you already have.

[beyondspaceandstars]

A Simple Housewife

Relationship: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader AU Warnings: non-graphic violence, angst Summary: Mob!AU - A new member starts getting too friendly with you one night, forcing Bucky to show a side of himself you’ve never seen before. And possibly never want to see again.  A/N: in my list of favorite AUs right under soulmate!au is mob!au........idk why i can’t explain it but I love it it’s such good content. and i realized well i can contribute to it as a genre so here I am lmao. (also, for reference, the work contains college-age peter parker - i aged him up fyi)

Masterlist

You liked how you two worked as a team. Bucky liked to hold meetings at your home, and you liked to host them. It was an unspoken agreement every time he’d come home and rattle off who was going to be around the next night.

These instances always sent you into a frenzy, but a good kind of frenzy. It gave you something to do. While a simple housewife per your husband’s request, these events meant you could fill your days planning menus, table settings, wine pairings, grocery shopping… It was therapeutic in some ways and even nicer knowing it would be appreciated.

His men loved to fawn over your perfectly cooked food or premium hand-picked wine and you simply adored it. While it sometimes rubbed Bucky the wrong way seeing you all giggly over compliments from other men, he typically let it slide. It was never very serious and certainly never went beyond sweet comments. You embraced your hosting duties while pretending to ignore the conversations that would go on in the next room after the meal, much to Bucky’s content.

The night had started like any other. Bucky came home the previous day and told you there was going to be a meeting tomorrow night and to expect to host ten of his men. That seemed like such a smaller crowd than he normally had over, so you inquired, curious.

"Only ten?" You asked, already rushing to grab your pen and paper for the planning.

Bucky nodded, leaning against the counter. "Yeah, we’ve got someone new coming on and I don’t want to overwhelm him."

"A new guy?" Your eyes lit up. "You mean someone who hasn’t tasted my lasagna?"

Your husband couldn’t hold back the chuckle at your innocent awe. Moments like these made him wonder how someone so warm could ever deal with someone like him. 

You weren’t totally clueless about his career, you knew at least a general description of what he did for a living, but, on the other hand, you hadn’t ever seen it. You roughly knew there were… multiple sides to him but those all seemed so distant, so pointless, at the time. In this home, with you, he was just Bucky. Your Bucky. Your husband. The one who showered you with love and appreciation.

"Yes, doll," your husband confirmed. "There’s someone who hasn’t had your famous lasagna."

"Wonderful!" You clapped and started writing out the menu. "Are there any requests? I certainly don’t want to mess anything up. God forbid the new guy thinks I’m a bad host or something."

You heard Bucky sigh as you continued making your notes. A hand came to your shoulder softly, halting your actions. You turned to face your husband, who was looking down at you with a soft smile, easing your worries nearly completely.

"Everything is going to be just fine," he said, placing a loving kiss on your forehead. You helplessly melted into the touch. "There’s nothing to worry about."

***

You were running around the kitchen like a mad man when Bucky came home the next night with a couple of men already following behind. He called out to greet you like some cheesy sitcom entrance. You force yourself to halt your panic, knowing it was in your best interest to go greet him and the first guests. Smoothing out your apron, you double-checked nothing would explode in flames upon your absence and made your way to the foyer.

"Hi, honey," you smiled as your eyes landed on your well-dressed, sophisticated-looking husband. For all the time spent together, he never did fail to make you swoon simply by just standing there.

"Hey, doll." Bucky matched your smile and gave you a kiss on the cheek knowing you would stress even more if he dared to smudge your lipstick.

When you two parted, your eyes wandered over your husband’s shoulder to the two men standing in front of the door. The one staring at you two exchanging welcomes you recognized right away as your husband’s right-hand-man Steve. Ever so strong and important looking.

But the boy standing next to Steve was a mystery. He was a bit smaller than them both but still had some height on you. This didn’t take away, though, from this timid look. He gazed around your home seeming so in awe of it all. He didn’t realize you were staring at him until Steve nudged him.

Bucky picked up on your curiosity and immediately jumped into introductions. Motioning towards the boy, "This is Peter. He’s the new member I was telling you about."

"Oh, of course," You smiled, outstretching your hand. Peter accepted the shake, a little on the enthusiastic side. "Very nice to meet you."

"It’s very nice to meet you too, Mrs. Barnes." The boy responded, holding slightly too much eye-contact, but you couldn’t blame him.

Your hands disconnected and you chuckled at the formalities, waving a hand in dismissal. You told him to call you by your first name. "The whole misses thing feels so serious," you insisted.

Peter just smiled, a twinkle in his eyes almost. He seemed to relax at your casualness. After the introductions, you led the men into the front room, offering up drinks and hors d’oeuvres. They helped themselves as you started to make your way back to the kitchen. For some reason, you decided to look back at the group. Your eyes met Peter’s immediately. The other men didn’t seem to notice, engrossed in some conversation as they poured their beverages. You simply smiled at the boy and headed back to the food.

It wasn’t too long after the first arrivals that the rest of the members started arriving. You didn’t have time to personally greet them all but Bucky assured you that was never necessary. You two had your own things to run, he liked to joke.

With everything places — food, silverware, centerpieces — you called the men into the dining room. They oohed and awed at the spread of lasagna, bread, veggies… All food groups were represented, you thought. As predicted, they began praising you for the meal as if it was the first time in their life that they’d ever eaten and it made you giggle. These were some of the toughest people you’d ever known and yet a simple baking dish of pasta and sauce could amaze them.

Once everyone was seated and digging in, you took your seat at the other end of the table, directly across from Bucky. As you began passing around the bread, you surprisingly found Peter sitting next to you.

"They made you sit down at this end?" You asked, handing him the breadbasket. Usually, the members dreaded sitting near the wife. While they were all so kind, in moments like these, they’d rather be at the other end looking so important.

"New guy," Peter shrugged, taking a piece of bread and moving it along.

"I thought this meeting was, like, for you," you said, cutting into the slice of lasagna one of the other men were so kind to serve you.

"No," he shook his head, beginning to eat. "At least that’s not how Mr. Barnes described it. Doesn’t matter, though. It’s just nice to be here."

You smiled, delighted by his optimism, having not seen many new members in your time with Bucky. "I hope the foods okay. I got nervous when Bucky said there’d be someone new coming around."

Peter scoffed as if finding your worry crazy which eased your mind a little. He took another bite of food. "This is easily one of the best meals I’ve had in a long time."

"Thank you, Peter," you said, taking a sip of your wine. Peter copied your motion, looking at you above the wine glass rim as he sipped.

"You did everything, yeah?" He asked, holding his wine while motioning towards the tables and surroundings. "Foods, plates, all of it?"

You nodded, probably coming off a bit more eager than you should’ve, but you couldn’t help yourself. Sure, Bucky’s guests loved to compliment your cooking but no one ever acknowledged the other pieces put into the meal.

"I try to change the table setting every season," you said, "and I like the food to be seasonal, too. There are some lovely markets around and I just adore browsing them… Oh! And the centerpieces, I got the flowers there, too…"

Your rambling died down as you caught Bucky staring at you from the other end of the table. One guy was trying to talk his ear off but he seemed interested in your conversation. Curiously, you started eying your husband back as you picked at your food. His face held an unreadable expression but, eventually, his eyes left yours and were now more focused on the one sitting next to you.

Appearing oblivious, Peter continued the conversation. "Well, I think the flowers are a nice touch," he said. "Pretty flowers picked by a pretty girl."

Your heart skipped a little at that comment. You couldn’t ignore the fact it was quite bold. While you were away of the gazes you got sometimes and the possibility you were talked about behind the scenes but to say it here? At the dinner table? With your husband just in earshot?

But at the same time, you had to consider, he was nice and probably just trying to butter you up hoping for a good word put in with the bossman. There was no doubt people thought they could get to Bucky through you but, in reality, you didn’t stick your hands in any of it. Nope, you just married into it.

Not completely sure how to respond, you simply accepted the compliment, "Well, thank you. That’s very sweet."

Peter smiled at your words, looking a bit proud of himself. You turned back to your plate and tried to eat your meal in silence.

Once everyone was finished, the group started making their way out of the dining room. You shooed them, promising to be out with coffee in a bit.

You were deep into cleaning, having finally carried all the dishes from the dining room to the kitchen when someone entered.

At first, you didn’t explicitly hear them as the faucet was running heavy from your battle of scrubbing dishes. Suddenly, you could sense a presence right behind you at the sink. Turning around, you nearly jumped out of your skin as you came face-to-face with Peter, looking almost amused at scaring you. You were surprised and also… not surprised.

"Sorry," you let out a breathy chuckle. "I didn’t hear you come in."

"That’s okay," he said and motioned towards the dirty plates lining the counter. "Do you need any help?"

"Oh," you frowned. "Shouldn’t you be in the meeting with everyone else?

He shook his head, "Mr. Barnes doesn’t want to start until he’s had coffee."

"Well, you can let him know it’s brewing away," you said, trying to keep your tone serious as you could. You turned back to the sink, praying he got the hint.

He hadn’t, you realized, as Peter came around to stand at your side, leaning against the counter. He stood, arms crossed, watching you.

It was weird — actually, this entire situation was weird. You didn’t think anyone but you or your husband had been in this kitchen before let alone actually know where it was in your home.

Despite how odd you found it, the last thing you wanted to be was rude. You didn’t want to think about what could ensue from your husband losing a guy.

"It’s kind of sad, Mrs. Barnes," Peter crossed his arms, seemingly ignoring your previous request to call you by your first name. You glanced at him, confused. "You’re so kind to do all this and none of them even offer to help you clean up."

"Oh, no, It’s okay-,"

"It’s really sad," He repeated, completely cutting off your attempt at a defense. You frowned and went back to cleaning the plates, praying your attempt to ignore him would encourage him to walk out. There was a weird feeling growing in your gut.

"Such a pretty girl shouldn’t have to do so much," Peter said, softly. "It’s not fair to you."

And that’s when you felt it. His hand slowly came up to rest on your lower back. You immediately tensed under his touch, mind spinning. What the hell had you ended up in? Should you have tried harder to get him out? Gosh, but he seemed so harmless-

His hand started inching upward and then back down, creeping a little lower each time with the motion. With your stance frozen, all you could do was focus on the soapy water in the sink, unsure of your next move. He took the hesitance as a chance to close the gap between you two. A few more shifts and he could have you fully pressed against the sink.

But before you could even ponder about his next move, the swinging kitchen door busted open. You both flinched at the sudden noise but Peter didn’t seem to move. You looked over to find it was Bucky in the doorway, gun drawn and pointed directly at Peter.

Your heart sank when you saw the weapon. Sure, you knew there was weaponry stored in the home but you had never definitely seen it. You could sometimes make out outlines of guns in suit pockets but now you were on the other end of one. While it wasn’t meant for you, with your poor positioning, a single shot and you could be taken down. And by your husband-

"What the fuck are you doing?" Bucky finally spoke, never taking his eyes off the person nearly towering over you. The gun was very steady, just like his words. But everything else about him was unlike anything you’d ever witnessed before. His eyes were dark, his features so harsh. This felt like a man you had never seen before.

"We were just talking," Peter answered. His voice was casual but you could feel a slight tremor in his hand. Or maybe that was just your body shaking uncontrollably. You couldn’t tell. "I offered to help her clean up."

Bucky cocked the gun. "Get your hands off her."

"Honey," you spoke softly, your voice slightly cracking from the tears that were beginning to form. "Please put the gun down."

"Not until he gets his hands off you, doll."

"Bucky, please." He wouldn’t look at you. He was determined to look beyond you and it scared you to death.

"You have five seconds to back away from her," Bucky took a step closer. "Or I’ll be forced to mess up my girl’s lovely kitchen."

You gasped at the sharpness in his voice, the entire darkness of it all. You started begging under your breath, hoping whoever or whatever heard the helpless prayers.

Finally, after what felt like hours to you, Peter stepped away from you. You turned to look back at the copy water where your hands were still submerged. They shook as you removed them and you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding.

Regaining some composure, you backed away from the sink and turned to your husband. Bucky still had the gun pointed at Peter, completely focused on him. Slowly, you approached him, your hands raised as if surrendering. You just needed to get the gun put away and then you could run to your room for some solitude. Fuck the other people probably oblivious, just relaxing and joking in your front room. This was typical business for them, they probably encountered your husband’s dark demeanor day in and day out, but this was going to take a toll on you.

"Honey, his hands are off of me," you whispered, slowly tiptoeing closer. "Put down the gun."

"He put his hands on you, doll," Bucky was answering you but he somehow sounded so distant, so consumed. "I let someone into this house that was going to do God knows what to you."

"No, no," you shook your head and you meant it. You didn’t think Peter was totally malicious. Just someone with a crush, high off excitement in a new place. "I really don’t think he meant harm."

"You’re too kind," Bucky scoffed. "You’re too kind, too innocent, too naive-,"

He held the gun stronger, seemingly preparing to shoot any second now. You were at the end of your rope with the realization. The waterworks were flowering uncontrollably now.

"James," you said, anger breaking through the tears. He seemed to freeze ever so slightly at your usage of his first name. "You really want to do this in front of your wife?"

Something clicked. You could feel it, you knew it. He didn’t answer and instead slowly lowered the weapon, placing it on the counter. Your husband turned to you. Seeing his opportunity, Peter sped past you two out of the kitchen. Neither of you really registered it. You were staring at one another, watching each other even begin to realize what had happened.

Now you were actually clueless. Were you meant to talk about this? Or did you just deal with it in time? The silence was killer but all your mind could focus on was the coffee machine that had gone silent, telling you it was done brewing. It was such a stupid, random thing to even focus on but you felt like your brain would explode if gave anything else the time of day.

"The coffee is ready for your meeting," you said, pulling off your apron and throwing it on the counter. Bucky watched you as stormed out of the kitchen, looking completely stunned and equally clueless.

You sat at your vanity in the bedroom. Thankfully you were able to avoid the front room, having no desire for anyone to see you in with mascara running down your cheeks.

You furiously scrubbed off your make-up despite it already almost off from the tears. Your emotions were just all over the place at this point. You didn’t know if you were angry, surprised, sad…

Mostly, you realized, you felt dumb. You could parade around being a little housewife, pretending she lived a normal life with a normal husband who had a normal job but that just wasn’t it. That wasn’t your reality in this moment. As much as you knew what his career entailed, seeing it up close like that was a whole new level. You thought you knew. You thought you knew so much.

You were just finishing changing out of your dress when the bedroom door opened. In the mirror, your angry eyes met Bucky’s worried ones. He entered slowly, shutting the door behind him. Part of you was pleased with this situation. He chose to check on you, pausing his meeting, but at the same time, you didn’t know if you could deal with anyone right now.

"How are you doing?" He finally spoke up, voice cutting through the tension.

You scoffed, "I just saw my husband pull a gun on a person in our fucking home."

Bucky shook his head and made his way over to the bed, where he sat at the edge, facing you. He wanted to get at you for swearing but much worse things had happened tonight that he didn’t know the point in it. Bucky never wanted to bring anything like that home.

He didn’t take care of that kind of "business" in this house. The meetings were routine, typically check-ins, but any deals or assignments were handled off the premises in fear of something turning ugly. He just wanted to keep you from that ugly. His sweet, soft wife who got excited over making lasagna and picking apples at the farmer’s market was never meant to be thrown into any of this. Especially not in the kind of way that just went down.

"I didn’t mean for that to happen," Bucky said. You rolled your eyes and turned quickly in your chair to face him. He ignored your attitude. "He had his hands on you. He was practically on top of you. Do you understand that? Please tell me you understand how that would make me angry."

"God, Bucky, you pulled a gun on an unarmed person!" You exclaimed. "I understand you were upset, I completely get that, but what… What was that? Who was that?"

His head tilted, confused, questioning. You shook your head in disbelief. Did he not even realize the mode he went into? The whole other person he seemed to encompass in those few minutes?

"You… you weren’t yourself," you mumbled and averted your gaze to your fingers which were fidgeting, restless. "You were scary. Disconnected. I didn’t know that person."

Bucky didn’t say anything at first. He got up from the bed and walked over to where you were seated at your vanity. He crouched down, trying to get you to look at him. Your heart pounded furiously at his close presence.

"You shouldn’t have seen that," He said. "You shouldn’t have seen any of that, doll."

His hands came to grasp yours. You wanted to pull away but you weren’t fast enough. He gripped your hands firmly as if scared you were going to vanish. Your head was swimming with even more confusion as he avoided your questioning.

"Can you even explain yourself?" You asked, finally looking up at him. Bucky’s worry seemed to have melted away and was replaced by something you once again couldn’t put your finger on.

He shook his head. The grip on your hands got tighter. "You have to understand when things come up I must act accordingly."

You didn’t understand but you had to understand. You knew you did. He was right. While jarring, that other side of Bucky did exist out there and he was probably the reason he could be so successful. And while that was something you could work on accepting, you didn’t want to see it in your home.

But for now, you didn’t want to deal with it. Emotions for you both were running high and there was no telling what could come out of your mouth anymore. You’d come back to it and work it out. There was no way you could avoid it. You didn’t think you could ever be scrubbed clean of what you saw.

"Okay," you mumbled and felt his hold on your hands loosen. "Just… Please don’t bring your work home for the time being. We can discuss this in the morning."

Bucky nodded, running his hand from your hands to your shoulder, lovingly. He mumbled okay and you sighed in relief.

For a second you wanted to just sit there, engrossed in the comfort his touch was bringing, completely and fully enjoy that you had your Bucky back, but then your brain remembered the people downstairs.

"Oh, honey," you said, "the guys are probably waiting for you."

"No," Bucky’s head shook. "I sent them home. You’re more important."

You melted at the words. Yes. Confirmed. Your Bucky was back to you. The man you loved and gave everything. He was putting you first.

"You didn’t need to do that," you mumbled, bashfully. Bucky chuckled at your reaction.

"Of course I did," he insisted. "I was worried. I never wanted you to see that. You didn’t sign up for that."

"No, Bucky, I really didn’t," you shook your head.

He sighed, "And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

You looked down again, suddenly worried you were putting too much guilt on him but at the same time, that felt silly to even consider. You weren’t sure anymore. The day was overwhelming as the minutes continued.

"Could we just go to bed now?"

Bucky removed his hands from your shoulders and stood, allowing you to get out of the chair and make your way to the bed, under the fluffy comforter. Your husband watched, waiting until you were comfortable.

"I’ve got a few phone calls to make but then I’ll come to bed, okay?"

You nodded, eyes shut already halfway into your dream world. You heard Bucky chuckle as he turned out the lights and shut the door quietly.

You lulled yourself to sleep, head still spinning from the earlier acts. The whiplash your husband gave you was starting to catch up but how much more could you think about it? It’d come back and you’d have to deal but for now, you could pretend. At least while you slept, you could go back to putting that distance between yourself and any side of Bucky that wasn’t husband Bucky. For just a bit, you could pretend you didn’t know so much.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

taglist note: i chose not to tag in this work b/c it is an AU and was unsure if people were comfortable with being tagged in such.

[tobesolonely]

queen anne’s coffee

A/N: hello everyone! I am not D/deaf or Hard of Hearing. However, this was requested more than once I wanted to do my best to provide. In this story, Y/N is a part of the Deaf community. if I have misrepresented the Deaf community in any way or wrote something inaccurate or offensive, then please DO NOT hesitate to let me know (respectfully, of course!) i wanted to fulfill this person’s request and be as inclusive as i could, as i don’t typically see stories with a Deaf!reader. shes short and sweet but i hope you all enjoy anyway! as always, feedback is very much welcomed and appreciated! :)

Summary: Y/N visits Harry’s coffee shop every Tuesday and Thursday and always orders the same thing. Harry HAS to get to know her!!!

word count: ~1.7k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Every Tuesday and Thursday at exactly 3:50 PM, Y/N placed an online order that consisted of an iced chai tea latte with oat milk and a butter croissant from Harry’s coffee shop, Queen Anne’s Coffee.

Y/N never forgot to add, “warmed up pls! thank you :)” in the section for comments, and she always tipped. She would then come into Harry’s shop approximately ten minutes later, walk up to the ‘pickup’ counter, grab her items, smile at Harry, and promptly leave. Harry never even so much as said hello to her, but he was irrevocably captivated––even if she was a complete stranger.

Harry decided that when Y/N came in today for her usual, he’d finally talk to her.

Business had been unusually slow for a Thursday afternoon but Harry didn’t mind–when Y/N came in, he’d be able to have a proper chat with her without having to rush the conversation along to help other customers. His gaze kept floating up to the cat-shaped clock hanging above the door, anxiously awaiting 3:50 PM when Y/N’s order would come through on the iPad and he got to read the words, “warmed up pls! thank you :)”

Harry didn’t know why he was so nervous to speak to her. As the owner of his very own coffee shop (and it’s only employee), he got to know the people who came in regularly well, even developing genuine friendships with some. It bothered Harry that this beautiful person gave him business two days a week and the only thing he knew about her was her name, which is only because he can see it when she places her order online.

When the iPad Harry keeps plugged up atop the counter chimes, he doesn’t even have to glance at it to know it was Y/N but he does anyway, feelings of excitement bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He was finally going to talk to her! Harry contemplates scribbling his number on the side of her cup as he’s writing her name but decides against it, not wanting to be too forward before they even formally meet.

When Y/N comes in ten minutes later, Harry can immediately sense something is wrong. She hardly looks up once as she shuffles from the door to the counter, hoodie pulled up and drawn tight over her head.

“Are you okay?”

Y/N doesn’t look up or even acknowledge the fact that Harry spoke. Even though there’s only two other people in the shop besides them, Harry figures she might think he was talking to someone else and addresses her by name.

“Y/N?”

She still doesn’t address Harry as she gives him a small smile before hurriedly exiting the shop, the bell above the door signaling her exit.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

When Tuesday comes, Harry’s out of bed before his alarm jolts him from his dreams.

He thought about Y/N all weekend as he impatiently awaited Tuesday’s arrival, excited over the prospect of finally seeing her again. He hoped she was doing better today than she was last week, and he really hoped she was in the mood to chat with him today.

Harry’s grateful the shop is busy today. It helps to keep his mind off of Y/N, and his eyes off the clock. When the iPad chimes at 3:50 on the dot, Harry decides he’ll wait until she comes in to prepare her order. It didn’t take him over two minutes, anyway. He figures this will give him a bit more time to chat with her, at least say hello and see if she’s doing better.

Much to his pleasure, Y/N has a big smile on her face when she bursts through the door ten minutes later. She floats to the pickup counter, then furrows her eyebrows in confusion as she looks up at Harry.

“Sorry, I’m working on your order right now,” Harry grabs a purple marker off the counter, scribbling Y/N’s name on the cup used for iced drinks. “How’s your day so far?”

Harry watches as Y/N cocks her head to the side in confusion, then pulls her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. She quickly types something before holding her phone out for Harry to take.

“I can’t hear you! I’m Deaf.”

A look of realization floods Harry’s face as he reads what she said. He now understood why Y/N didn’t answer him when he tried speaking to her last week, and he’s secretly relieved that she wasn’t ignoring him because she hated him or anything like that.

“I know a bit of sign!” Harry types before handing Y/N back her phone. He watches as her eyes skim his words and she looks up, a toothy grin plastered on her face.

“Great! This is much faster.” Her hands move quickly as she signs. “Did my order work or not? Wi-Fi is bad at home today.”

Harry realizes he doesn’t know as much sign language as he thought he did.

“OK. I am rusty.”

Y/N smiles at this and pulls her phone back out, typing what she just signed to him before passing it back to him. A look of realization floods Harry’s face as he learns she was just asking if her order came through alright, seeing as it was not yet ready. Too embarrassed to tell her he intentionally waited until she arrived to prepare her order, he just nods.

“I’ll have it ready in no more than two minutes… and refund you, too. I’m sorry for the wait.” Harry looks up at Y/N as he passes the phone to her, eyes not leaving her face as he tries to gauge her reaction.

“No!” Her head shakes as she signs. “Happy to pay. Thank you.”

Harry understands Y/N but refunds her, anyway.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“Why do you always come Tuesday and Thursday? Same time?”

“Exams every Tuesday and Thursday.” The look of obvious dissatisfaction on Y/N’s face makes Harry laugh. “Your chai and pastries cheer me up after.”

Harry’s face turns red at Y/N’s admittance, so he instead looks down, pretending he’s distracted by something on the iPad. He decides at that moment that he will no longer charge Y/N for her oat milk latte and croissant. She was a college student after all––if her financial situation was like Harry’s in any way when he was in college earning his business degree, it would probably be beneficial for her to save her money, anyhow.

Ever since Harry and Y/N’s first real interaction, Y/N had been coming into Queen Anne’s nearly every day, school supplies and laptop in tow. She always sat at the table closest to the front counter, directly in Harry’s line of vision so they could sign to each other.

Y/N provided Harry with some much needed (and enjoyed) company when business was slow, and she was helping him brush up on his sign language. Harry learned that Y/N is Deaf; her hearing is completely gone in her left ear and almost completely gone in the right. She’s the only person in her family who is Deaf. She also hated eggs, is lactose intolerant (hence the oat milk), has two older siblings, is a master’s student, and a plethora of other things that Harry had committed to memory.

“Thank you. I’m glad you enjoy.”  

“Who is A-N-N-E?”

Harry grins. “My mother. Back in London.”

Y/N’s eyes widen. “London? Amazing! You must have an accent.”

It dawns on Harry that Y/N has never heard his voice before. “Yes. Are you from here?” Y/N nods in response.

“Whole life. Small town, but it’s home.” Her pinched hand moves quickly from her mouth up to her ear.

“Sorry. What?”

“H-O-M-E.”

A look of realization floods Harry’s face as he nods in response, signaling for Y/N to give him a moment as the bell above the entrance jingles. It seems as if the few people who walk through the door act as a catalyst for others to enter, and soon Queen Anne’s is at maximum occupancy and Harry is trying to make several drinks at once while taking orders. He locks eyes with Y/N a few times and she gives him a sympathetic look, not able to do much to help him out.

Harry decides that once business dies back down, he’ll find out if Y/N is interested in a part-time job.

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Y/N was interested in a part-time job.

She was a fast learner and a hard worker. Harry was more than delighted to show her how to make every drink on the menu, and consume her failed attempts. It was nice having someone else behind the counter with him––he wished he’d gone about hiring someone to help him much sooner, but he was glad to now have Y/N by his side.

“So much chai! I thought only I drank this stuff.”

Harry’s gaze lingers on Y/N for a beat too long, causing her to shift slightly. Harry’s hand moves to scratch the back of his neck. “Yes. I like chai. With milk.” His hand forms a ‘C’ then closes to form an ‘S’ twice for the word “milk”.

“Regular?” One of Y/N’s eyebrows raises as she asks her question, setting a hot chai latte atop the “pickup” counter.

“S-O-Y.”

Y/N lets out a quiet snort of laughter as she shakes her head. It was the first time Harry ever made her laugh out loud. After hearing her laugh once, he never wanted to stop––it was music to his ears. “Not surprised!”

Harry’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Why?” His eyes remain on Y/N as she walks around the small area, cleaning up a small coffee spill she had earlier.

“You just are a S-O-Y boy, H. My S-O-Y boy!”

Harry’s cheeks immediately turn pink as they did the first time Y/N said something that flustered him, but he doesn’t look away.

“You’re my O-A-T girl.”

⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Thank you everyone for reading!!! This is only the beginning of Y/N and Harry I think <33