#those. I just don’t think I’d do well

[madamechrissy]

Would you come with me?

oneshot preview

Pairings: Satoru Gojo x F! reader

Summary: You have been Satoru's best friend for such a long time, and one day he asks you a really big favor- marry him. What!?!? Well, Satoru has to take a wife as he's running the Gojo corporation, and what better way to get them off his back than 'marry'? In name only, just best friends living together for a year to calm them down, sounds so perfect and uncomplicated, right!!! Well, living with Satoru Gojo makes you both question everything, is this fake marriage feeling... real? and can you just be friends after this?

CW: NSFT-MDNI- Going to have smut at the end like all my oneshots do, lots of sexual tension, light angst but mostly fluffy, friends to lovers AND marriage of convenience trope lol. Explicit sex, oral sex, it's me so a breed kink, gonna be a LONG oneshot, Satoru is a lil sweetie and a lil freaky ass- falls hard, ya'll both down bad.

This is what won for the poll on the thank you for 5k followerss!! <3 Comment to get added to the taglist!!!

“You love me, right?”

You blink a bit, as you stare at Satoru Gojo, he’s been your best friend all throughout high school and even before you’ve known him. You’re sitting across from him, while he’s sipping boba with you, his Gucci shades perched on the bridge of that straight nose, a smirk on his glossy lips. You tilt your head curiously at him, of course you love Satoru, but he only pulls this when he needs a favor.

“What’d you get into this time, Toru?” You demand, he gasps then, affronted, a hand to his chest.

“Excuse me, missy? I’m just asking if you love me.”

You roll your eyes, leaning back in your seat in the little cafe. “Of course, you know I love your goofy ass.”

Satoru takes off his glasses, those swirling blue eyes wrecking you as they have all these years, usually you can put up enough of a barrier not to let them consume you, but apparently you haven’t today. You watch those snowy lashes lower when his eyes bore into you, swirling storms of bright blue, you have to snap yourself out of it.

Being Satoru Gojo’s best friend wasn’t for the weak.

“How much you love me, hmm?”

“What is it you need, an alibi?” He snorts then, shaking his head and wrapping his lips around the straw.

“M’not Suguru, shit… no, I need a really big favor. Like… the biggest favor, but if you agree, I can really make it worth your while.”

“Okay this isn’t a mobster movie, Toru, what is it?” Satoru looks down then, long fingers swirling around the top of his cup, before his eyes snap back to yours.

“What if I said I’d help you with all that student loan debt, and buy you a shiny brand new car?”

“I don’t want your money, I do fine okay?”

“Your car is old enough to drink.”

“Fuck off!” Your glare makes him snort in laughter. “It is not, it’s like… not even old enough to vote… I don’t think.”

“It’s old, sweets. Say you also had a place to stay, for free?”

“Satoru this isn’t Pretty Woman-”

“I love that movie!”

“Satoru! What are you getting at!?” You’re crossing your arms then, raising a brow at the lanky man across from you, whose legs are spread wide in his dark blue dress pants, he’s pulling just a bit at his silky black tie.

Satoru has taken a huge role recently in his family business, the conglomerate that owned a million different things, you know how much he detests it, but once Satoru graduated college his family pushed it more and more. At this point he was thriving, doing most of the work with his father taking much more of a back seat, his health starting to deteriorate.

You and Gojo spend more time together than ever, you know he needs his friend, especially with Suguru having left for some time, the two of them not together was always hard on him. You’d been friends with both of them, but Suguru seems to have left and found his own calling, swinging through to see you both from time to time, but much is different since those days at Tokyo high.

Not you and Satoru though.

For the longest time you pined away for him, but you never made that move, aside from one stolen kiss in a closet during seven minutes in heaven, and Satoru had it bad for you all of Junior and Senior year, but the two of you never risked it, your friendship. And now you’re glad to have him in your life, but it’s hard to even think of someone serious when he’s so brightly and firmly in your life.

“This is a huge favor I need, it’s… a lot to ask.” Satoru murmurs softly, you tense a bit, brows drawing together.

“What’s wrong, is everything okay?” Your voice is a low hum as you murmur, he nods just a bit.

“Yeah it’s fine just… I’m being forced to choose a bride, and they have many candidates.” He laughs humorlessly, and your heart breaks for him.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, Satoru. I thought you’d have longer?”

“Yeah, I wish.” He runs a hand through his silky white locks, looking down for a moment, lips that always smirk or maybe pout actually frowning. “I need to just get it done, get em off my ass.”

“That doesn’t sound like you, why not tell em to fuck themselves, hmm? Where’s my Toru!?”

“He’s exhausted.” He swipes a hand across his face, and you lean closer, hand on his leg, his eyes sliding back to yours.

“Do you want me to help find someone? I have a lot of good friends in high families… find you someone not money hungry, not a psycho? How much time do you even have?”

“That’s not what I'm asking.” He puts his big hand over yours now, sighing, leaning closer to you. “I’m asking if you want to.”

“If I want to, what exactly?”

“Marry me?”

“What!?” He chuckles then, but even that sound is exhausted.

“You forget you’re from a top family, nah it’s not the Gojo clan but…”

“Satoru…”

“Just for like a bit? To get em to leave me alone, let me gain some more power. All for show, and I’ll help you with anything, I promise.” He’s clutching your hand, and suddenly the room feels like it’s spinning.

“Wh-why me? We… you… I…”

“You’re my best friend, it would be like being roommates damn near. You could… do your thing as long as you’re discrete.” He murmurs, you want to laugh then, as if you’ve done anything in a couple of years now. “And I would be discrete, respectful, we’d just be in name, appearance. We’re best friends, it will be a piece of cake, and most of all… I trust you.”

You try to digest all the information, blinking and trying not to think the insane thoughts that come with it, but you fail. “But won’t they want… an heir?”

Satoru’s cheeks flush bright pink now. “We don’t need to… I’d never ask you to do that, ever I swear. I’d never be an ass like that.”

You feel your heart racing as you shove back all of the images you should not have for your friend. “I know, I know. But… they’d-”

“That’s the thing, a year or so and they’ll back off. Give me time to fix some mistakes, with dad being sick… I’m not saying I won’t miss him, but how he is running shit? No, I know I can make things better, take down these shitty higher ups who are so greedy. You just could give me more time, and I promise I’ll do anything I can to help you too.”

“It’s insane, this is marriage!” You blink a bit, shifting, his hand now brushing back a lock of hair from your forehead, a familiar gesture that now takes on something more intimate.

“It can just be for show, we’ll be the same best friends as always. I have no one I can imagine even living with but you, maybe Suguru but… he’s not a girl.”

“He has that long silky hair?” You both laugh a little, softly then.

“He sure does, but… you’re prettier to look at.”

“Flattery? Stop that. It’s insane, and… how would we even explain it in such a rush?”

“We’ve been friends forever. Who wouldn’t believe that we got together? It’s even easier. I mean, maybe a couple kisses and things for show, but… you’ve kissed me before, remember?” He’s grinning wide then, you shove at him playfully. “That closet was cramped, hmm?”

“Oh shut it, that was so long ago. I mean, if you really need me, you know I’ll do this for you. I don’t expect you to go all out on anything for me in return.” Satoru pauses now, watching how the light streaming in through the large cafe windows hits your pretty face, as you explain to him that you’d want nothing in return for this!? For this huge imposition on your life.

You have always been the sweetest, best friend he has had, so important to him he’s never dared to cross that line, and he knows it will tempt him to no end to do this, but he also knows he can trust you. “Let me just take care of a few things for you, you can almost see it as a job. There will be events, meetings with the other leaders, trust me. Like anything I can do, you’ll be helping me so much.”

“Alright.”

“What!?”

He’s hugging you tightly to him, you giggle a bit, breathless. “Yeah, I’ll do it… I need a nice car though, Toru. A BMW?”

“I’ll get you ten BMWs.”

“Jesus, no. Silly boy.” You giggle as you look up at him, your best friend, but then your heart falters when he’s just a bit too close.

“Should we practice kissing now?” He teases, voice husky.

“Satoru, you're insufferable.”

He pouts now, and you swallow down the fact that you don’t know if you can even handle kissing his lips.

Should be out sometime this weekend!- after this is the Stripclub Sukuna full oneshot then Mr. Yan Choso hehe <3

permatags: @alt--er--love @seeing-stars-alt @indiewritesxoxo @nanasukii28 @labelt-san @makingtimemine @cuntphoric @loafteaw @aldebrana @n1vi @miizuzu @beachaddict48 gojo: @haruhatake @strychnynegirl @jinjen suggestion from the lovely @bunheadusa

[doodledrawsthings]

you. Oh my god, you. (Positive)

listen. Before I had internet access, all I had was 1 hour of allotted browser time, bing image search, and a single dantdm play through of a hat in time that never got finished. I googled fanart and got pretty much nothing, I googled fancomics and got pretty much nothing, but you know what I did end up finding?

your art.

from ages 11-14, my goal in life, in art, was your art. I can’t tell you how much I loved finding random screenshots of your posts, because I was always just so impressed by how clean and consistent your sketches are, how the characters always stay on model, the shape language, how you could somehow sketch a character in like 20 lines when it took me 50 to draw sans in my little spiral notebook— like! Holy shit! For years I have looked up to your art! There’s still a photos folder on my dads old huge-ass 12 inch work iPad labeled “holy crap” and filled with your art. Because it inspired me so much. It’s become an undeniable part of my artstyle, now — I still have fanart I drew way back in the day of Hattie and the rest, I didn’t even know anyone’s names because I couldn’t play the game, but you’re the reason I eventually did play the game. Your coffee shop au and different versions of the prince— one of those ieterations inspired the main character of my novel! Well, novel that I tried to write, I was 13 so it was eh, but I tried!!

I’m submitting this on-anon because I don’t want to out my age on the wide internet (I like my privacy) but. Your art has really meant a lot to me. It’s the reason I played hollow knight, and it’s the reason I kept trying to develop an art style I was happy with. You’re the reason I started scribbling comics in my notebooks. Being 13-14 was pretty much the worst two years of my life, but I had Bing image search and the occasional glimpse of your signature, and I’d be so happy every time I found a new (if crusty) three-times screenshotted jpg. You literally introduced me to the concept of polyamory and nonbinary-ness with the coffee shop au. I had no other access to that in my household, and. Yeah. It meant a lot to me.

Anyway. I’m so glad I’ve finally tracked you down (in the most non-ominous way possible) and I’m so glad you’re still active— Please never stop making art. Your art is incredible, and amazing, and also you never know who’s out there on Bing image search. Thank you for creating for as long as you have. You’re pretty much the reason I’m shooting for an art degree (Wish me luck!) so just…Thank you.

(Also I had no idea you were a professional storyboarder, which is insane because that’s what I want to be when I’m through college. Hey, maybe I’ll end up storyboarding a remake of something you’ve storyboarded! hehehe)

Hi anon!

So right off the bat, I gotta tell you that this message made me start bawling when I woke up and saw it. Like I had a full-on cry session while reading your message and lying in bed for almost an hour. I am crying as I am typing this response, on my phone, still in bed. It’s 11am and i woke up at 9. So I hope it turns out coherent.

The last two years have been. weird. I say that a lot because I wanna say “rough” but that still doesn’t feel quite right. I’m almost hyper-aware that there are so many people that have it worse than me rn, so it feels hard to even acknowledge when I’m going through anything, myself, sometimes- REGARDLESS, it’s been kind of an all-time low for my mental health. There was a point within in the last year where I just HATED drawing. I struggled to bring myself to work, I struggled to bring myself to even draw for fun. It felt like I was posting just to post, trying to keep people aware of my existence and it almost felt physically painful to force myself to sit down and do it, sometimes.

I’m getting better now, I think, but. Yknow.

It’s so easy to get caught up in the “oh I can make money off this,” “oh I can get attention off this,” “oh I can prove myself a functional person in society with this,” of it all. I forget why I actually do this, sometimes, or if I even enjoy it. And then I get messages like yours, about the kid with limited internet access looking for A Hat in Time fan art on Bing image search, and I get taken back to when I was a kid scrolling Google images and deviantart for the same thing.

I don’t mean to like. Foster some kind of parasocial thing with you or any one of my followers. There’s a reason I’m saying all this, I hope it ties up in the end.

We don’t know each other. I’m not some mysterious legendary artist, or whatever. I’m a person who gets burnt out, and jealous, and insecure. I need inspiration to function, just like you, and when I don’t have it, I get art block. But I also really like to draw fictional characters kissing and hanging out. I like coming up with comics and stories and playing out dramatic and funny scenarios in my head like I’m mashing Barbies together. And when other people tell me they enjoy the stuff I put out when I do this, it makes me really, really, really happy.

I think I needed to read your message, probably. With the state of… Everything… Right now, especially recently, I feel like a lot of artists are also struggling with a sense of purpose, pride, and reason as the world makes it harder and harder to even BE an artist, these days. And when I read this message it was like Anton Ego at the end of Ratatouille, I got taken back to when I was a kid looking at my favorite artists and studying their style and striving to be better and better at it over years of my life. Not just because I wanted a job for it or cuz I wanted to be a famous Disney animator or whatever, but because it was fun and I just liked doing it.

Thank you, SO much. I say this in the most genuine and earnest way I possibly can possibly express. I wish you luck on your own path in art and art school. And if you decide that animation industry is your thing, then I wish you the best in that endeavor, as well. I think I will keep making art for a long time.

Peace and love on the planet earth ✌️✌️✌️

[nickfowlerrr]

once more with feeling

pairing: professor!bucky barnes x curvy!actress!reader (reader is not a student)

warnings: mdni. no smut. flirting. i’d label this as soft horny if that were a thing lol. edward/guy moratz makes a short appearance. not much else really but self-indulgence at its finest. reader is probably minimum twenty five but you can imagine whatever age 21 and up you'd like and it should read alright.

words: 5185

notes: this was originally going to be a professor bucky x reader fic but then i got the idea for auditioning reader and then i thought oh! what if i wrote for my latest obsession - edward/guy! so then it was gonna be guy x actress reader but then i realized i kept picturing bucky and i’ve missed writing for him so then it changed again into professor bucky but now with actress reader and that’s where i landed with it even though i think this would work so well with guy as our guy and truth be told upon rereading myself i did start to picture him instead of bucky ha but ANYWAY this is buckys fic but if you wanna picture guy that works pretty well too 🤭 writing this was a nice distraction from the craziness of life lately and i hope you enjoy it. also just to say it - if you haven’t had the chance to watch a different man yet, you absolutely should. it’s great.

pls lmk your thoughts! i’d love to hear what you think. thank you in advance for reading! as always, comments and reblogs are so appreciated and more than welcome. 🩵

Goosebumps have risen all over your skin as you sit in the uncomfortable auditorium seat. Your legs are freezing thanks to the dress you don; despite its length, the fabric doesn’t provide much warmth and you can’t help but shake just a touch as another chill comes over you. You wrap your arms as tightly as you can around yourself but it too does little to help. The shrug cropped cardigan keeps your arms covered but the cold still chills - even inside the walls of this classroom auditorium.

This was a stupid idea, you accept far too late.

Granted, your planned outfit originally saw you in lined leggings to help fight the cold of the season, but after your little trip down the stairs on your way here - despite having held the skirt of the dress up to avoid such a fall to begin with! - you decided to toss the ripped and coffee soaked leggings and keep on instead of doing what the universe clearly was screaming at you to do: Go back to your apartment, take those god forsaken heeled shoes off, and put on something simpler. You were trying too hard.

Maybe you were. But you couldn’t care. You needed this. And when do you get to wear a dress like this on the daily? It fits the mood and works for the role without being a costume. You may feel a little uncomfortable, you don’t wear dresses out often, but you don’t think you’ve really made the wrong choice.

You were last on the audition sign in sheet so thankfully no one would be left to watch you the way you’d just studied the twelve other girls reading for this role.

They all dressed casually, had book bags with them, it was obvious they all attended this school. And here you were! A college dropout, overdressed in comparison, and clearly out of place.

Ah, you’re getting too in your head again. Always looking for a reason why something won’t go your way. But you’ve been working on that, and calling yourself out seems to help.

You take a deep breath as the last girl clears the stage and the casting table speaks amongst themselves.

You haven’t been able to see any of their faces, only the backs of their heads. You aren’t sure if there are students or faculty at the table with them but you figure it doesn’t really matter.

The casting call said all were welcome to audition - student or not. The location was only at the college because of renovations on the theatre in the city.

…It did say that, right? You’re not auditioning for a college show, right?

Your heart begins to pick up speed as you worry. Did you read it wrong? Were you making things up? You scramble for your phone and as you pull up the email the city theatre sent out last week, your name is called.

You don’t have the chance to reread it before you shut your phone off and tuck it away in your bag, placing it on your seat as you stand. You take a breath as you smile as confidently and friendly as you can and make your way down to the stage.

“That’s me,” you say as they watch you.

Finally you’re able to see their faces and as you make eye contact with each of them you can feel them sizing you up. Three people sit at the folding table before the stage and one man sits a bit further back in the second row of auditorium seats. He has yet to look up from his book and you realize you hadn’t noticed him at all earlier.

A younger man at the casting table, no more than 30 if you’d had to guess, tilts his head as he watches you ascend the few steps to the stage.

“So,” he states your name again, “do you attend classes here?”

“No,” you answer with a small shake of your head, “no I’m not a student.” You work to maintain your easy smile as you feel all eyes on you.

The man nods and turns to speak to the man still sitting and reading behind him. “Well, Mr. Barnes,” he gets his attention finally, “no pressure to stay. All the students have been seen, you’re free to go. This is the last audition for the day then we’ll be out of your hair.”

“Until tomorrow when you’ll take over my auditorium again,” he rumbles lowly as he stares at the man who is still looking at him.

You swallow hard as you do the same. His eyes are bright despite his obvious annoyance, his dark hair pushed back as he tries to keep it out of his face, only a couple silver strands shining through the dark chestnut brown; the stubble that covers his jaw adds to his air of gruffness - the spot of gray near his chin adding to his appeal. He’s tall, you gather as your eyes move down his body, his long legs. He wears dark slacks and a baby blue button up dress shirt tucked into his pants. The sleeves are rolled up his forearms and the top couple buttons of his shirt are undone, giving just a hint at his chest hair and the chain that hangs around his neck.

You realize you’re staring as you hear the voice of the younger man responding to Mr. Barnes, but you don’t hear what he’s saying as you force yourself to look away. Your eyes blink up and you’re caught. His blue eyes are on you, brows furrowed and his expression unreadable. You quickly look away and pretend you weren’t doing a thing as you wait for them to give you the go ahead.

Some more words are exchanged as they seem to try and appease the man whose classroom they are in. You’re not entirely paying attention to the conversation as you run your lines in your head for the millionth time.

You know the words. You know the part. You’re not worried, necessarily. But you haven’t booked a single thing in the past eight months and to say that hasn’t shaken your confidence in yourself even just a little bit would be a lie. But you’re getting back to your roots. You’ve missed the theatre. It was and will forever be your first love. This is your first stage audition in a while though, and your first experience with this theatre. Since moving to the city, you swore you’d audition for one of their shows but just never got around to it as your focus shifted to film. This is your time now. Is it going exactly how you’d envisioned it’d go? Well, you’re standing in a university campus auditorium instead of the stage at the Fervent Fires Theatre to audition, so, no. But that’s okay! You have a good feeling about this. And as you stand here, you feel more and more relaxed. It’s kind of bringing you back to your high school days - the annoyed teacher having to share the auditorium with the annoying theatre people. It’s funny.

And after seeing the other girls audition you really don’t feel too stressed. Most of them were late teens auditioning for Elmire. Despite the fact you played her in your late teens, too, that was simply because the production was full of other teens and young adults. You’re definitely more of the right fit even now. You’ve seen some of the theatre's productions before and who and how they tend to cast. Granted this is second day auditions and everyone else who has been seen might be in your league, but you won’t dwell on who you may be compared to - and you kind of needed the confidence boost today.

You take a breath and remind yourself you know what you’re doing. Whether you get a callback or not, just being on a stage again, acting in front of people again, you’ve needed this. It’s good.

You come back to yourself, out of your head and more at ease and hear Mr. Barnes as he speaks.

“And I appreciate being ‘free to go’ but I’m fine right where I am. Seeing as how this is my classroom, I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”

“Oh, no, of course not. I just meant that if you wanted to go, you were free to, are free to, do, ya know, whatever you want. We were under the impression you were required to be here as a faculty member during student’s auditions, but, uhm, yes, of course. We aren’t trying to push you out or anything,” he smiles before nervously clearing his throat and turning back to face the table. He shuffles around the papers before him and you see him pull your headshot and resume to the front of his stack, grabbing his notes and pen before turning his gaze to you.

“Alright, sorry about that. You can start whenever you’re ready.”

Their eyes are all on you. The casting table, and the man behind them. He’s set his book down next to him, has his hands folded in his lap as he sits back in his seat, casual and intent all at once, while his brilliant blue gaze is set right on you.

-

The audition is a blur, it goes by so fast. As you thank them for their time, you’re surprised when they offer you more information they hadn’t given out before.

“Callbacks will be next Tuesday and they’ll be at the actual theatre. We’ve been under construction all month but should be good to go next week. We appreciate you taking the time to come audition here, we know it’s a little out of the way in comparison.”

“Not a problem at all, it actually isn’t too far from me,” you smile.

“Good, well, keep a look out for an email with more details and…” the director on the end of the table looks up to you as if she’s catching herself from revealing a secret, then sighs, “ah, screw it, you’re definitely on the callback list,” she smiles, “we’ll see you there.”

“Amazing,” you breathe, “I’m looking forward to it. Thank you again, so much,” you can’t help your grin as you walk closer to the steps of the stage.

The casting table packs their things as you walk past them back to where you were sitting before. You’d left your bag and half drinken coffee so you make to go get it. As you pass the first few rows, you feel Barnes’ stare again, this time only fleeting as his name is called from the young man who spoke to him before.

“This table?”

“You can leave it,” he states, sounding bored.

“Okay. Thank you again for letting us use the stage, we really do appreciate it.”

You don’t hear him reply as you hear the casting team leave out the door.

The realization you’re the last one left intruding on this man has you hurrying up.

Until you hear his voice again.

“You were good.”

You turn at the compliment, wide eyed as you see him coming closer up the steps. Your heart seems to skip a beat and you wonder what he’s doing until he bends down a few rows before you and picks up an empty coffee cup someone must have left earlier.

You’re caught a bit off guard but force your mouth to work after a second, “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” he nods as he stands back up straight. You watch as he tosses it easily into the trash can at the bottom of the stairs before he turns back to look at you again.

You were right. He’s tall, and somehow even more attractive than you’d originally thought now that you’re seeing him even closer.

“I’m no director, but from what I’ve seen yesterday and today, if I was casting, you’d be it.”

“Oh,” you feel your face warm despite how cold the auditorium still is, “that’s,” you laugh a little under your breath, “that’s really nice to hear, thank you.” You have to look down as his gaze is just a little too much for you right now. You don’t need to fall down another set of stairs today and if you let yourself get lost in those ocean blue eyes of his, you’re almost certain you will.

“You seem more shy off stage than you do on,” he comments, taking another step up the stairs, another step closer to you.

“Yeah,” you titter nervously, “um, I’m an actor, ‘m pretty good at faking it when I have to.”

He raises his brow at your unintentional innuendo and immediately you catch yourself. You feel like you’re on fire and you see something in his eyes, almost like he’s working himself up to reply as he takes the last step he needs to be on the same level as you.

“You fake it a lot?”

Your lips move as if you have words to speak but nothing comes out as he stares at you and you stare back.

God, he smells good. And he’s so tall. And muscular. And pretty.

You blink as you try to break yourself free from this trance.

Is he hitting on you? You don’t even know this man’s name and yet there’s a fluttering in your tummy at the way he’s eyeing you. His gaze roves down your body, over your soft curves that are accentuated by the corset dress hugging you. His tongue darts out as he wets his lips seemingly without thought and that familiar desire that’s been plaguing you the last six months since your breakup has you fidgeting where you stand. He’s so effortlessly hot and the thought of getting on your knees right here and now for him hits you out of nowhere and only burns you further. Wow, where did that come from?

You haven’t been with anyone since you ended things with Nick, and you may be horny, but you’re not desperate… Are you?

You swallow hard and extend your hand to him, offering him your name as you do. He smiles with a deft chuckle, looking from your hand back up to your eyes before he takes your hand in his, seeming to ease some tension in him you hadn’t noticed before. Maybe not tension, maybe anxiousness? But no, that couldn’t be it. His smile is so easy there’s no way the word confident wouldn’t be in your top choices to describe him.

“James,” he supplies as you shake his hand. His big, warm hand that you can’t help but imagine the weight of if he were to place it on your waist. He squeezes you just a bit and another wave of your sudden desire rolls through you.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, sounding a lot more sultry than you ever intended. His lips quirk and he takes a second before he responds, again, you get the funny feeling he’s working himself up to say what he does.

“Can I be honest with you?” he asks bluntly, waiting for your nod before he continues. “I saw you staring at me when you were on stage.”

Okay. Ha. Wow. You’re so hot you wouldn’t be surprised if steam was coming off your cheeks. God, you could just explode from your mortification at his words. Is he really calling you out like this, right to your face? Your cheeks are burning and you don’t know what to say. You suck your lips in your nervousness as you inhale a breath through your nose, letting your lips go as you suck your teeth when you release them. You look down as your tongue runs along the edges of your teeth. A nervous habit when you’re at a loss for words as you let out a breathy titter at being caught and having it brought up.

You hear a light laugh from him before your breath is stilled when he gently touches your chin, his touch warm as he tilts your face up so you’re looking at him once again.

You’re stalled in a sort of awe as his eyes seem to twinkle at you.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed,” he assures you, his voice smooth as silk, “I was staring back.”

The soft smirk on his lips lights you up as you unthinkingly wet your own. In any imagined scenario you would never have thought you’d be so receptive to a stranger coming on this strongly - so boldly and up front. But here you are. Receptive as hell. There’s something about him, about his approach, that has you even more attracted to him than you were at first glance…er, stare. His voice, his attitude, the way he’s looking at you. As if he knows exactly what he wants, and he’s going for it. As if the very thing he wants right now, is you.

“Your eyes alone are captivating, but there’s something else about you,” he muses, “you got on stage and it was like I couldn’t look away.”

You almost have to force yourself to take a breath before you can talk. “The dress,” you quip with a small shrug.

“The dress,” he looks down at your body once more, a funny fluttering setting your core alight under his gaze, “well it definitely helped. It’s nice,” he compliments, his hand reaching to touch the fabric and grazing your hip. At his touch his eyes flick up to gauge your reaction and, seeing what you’re sure is a dreamy like haze, he goes on. “Look, I have to teach a class here in half an hour so I’m just gonna cut to the chase,” he says, a hint of an east coast accent slipping in and becoming clearer in his voice as he speaks, “I think you’re gorgeous. And I think you might think I’m not so bad myself,” he half smiles as his lips twitch. “I know this is forward,” his eyes meet yours once more, “and there’s no expectation here.”

Your brows raise despite yourself as you wait for him to go on. He licks his lips again and takes a step closer to you.

“Do you wanna have sex with me?”

You inhale sharply as you pause, your lips parting with the breath.

Weirdly some far off part of you was kind of expecting that was where this was leading, but in the very same breath, you really were not expecting him to say that. Your mouth goes dry and your mind goes blank as you try and process his words. You know your immediate, no thought involved answer. But surely, this calls for some thought, doesn’t it?... It’s not like anonymous sex isn’t a thing, it’s just never been your thing. But you do have the rest of the day free and you’re riding on a kind of confidence high at the moment, and god is this man tempting.

A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he stares at you, studying you and waiting for your yes or no.

“You do this a lot?” you ask instead.

He breathes a soft chuckle, “Never, actually,” he shakes his head, “but I’ve been out of the game for a while, recently been told I need to put myself out there, and I guess I don’t really know how to be anything other than direct these days.”

“Hm,” you look into his bright eyes, a sincerity there you don’t find in people often these days, “I guess I can appreciate that.”

“Is that a yes?”

Fuck it, you think. You’ve been pushing past your normal comfort zones all day. What’s a little sex with a hot stranger? …Right? You’re seconds away from saying yes, how could you not, you egg yourself on, but you figure you should make this as clear as you can. Not that his answer has much chance of changing yours.

“Is this just sex? Or…” you trail off.

“At the very present moment,” he specifies, “just sex.”

You nod in easy understanding, readily taking it for what it is, but he continues on.

“And if you wanna leave it at that, we’ll leave it at that, but if you’re interested in dinner later tonight, too, I’d be glad to buy. Pick you up and everything.”

“Oh, what a gentleman,” you simper with a titter you can’t suppress. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Mhm,”

“Sex?”

You nod with a smirk as he closes the gap between your bodies.

“Right now?” he adds again, getting the same response as you smile against his lips when he leans in closer.

He kisses you. You’re immediately lost to him as his lips touch yours, his stubble tickling your soft skin. It’s surprisingly tentative, slow and soft at first, like he’s testing the waters between you. After a long moment, he decides to pull away, not too far, only parting for a split second. You're struck by the fleeting feeling of his lips being on yours, it steals your breath as you mindlessly lean into him immediately looking for more. Your eyes meet again, there’s a glimmer of shared recognition and you know he feels the same, and then his lips are on yours even more hotly. You’ve always thought people were dramatic when they spoke about having sparks with someone, that it wasn’t a real experience, just hyperbole… exaggeration, but you’re realizing now you just hadn’t ever experienced it before. That spark, that zing, it is real. It must be, because as crazy and sudden as it is, you think you have it here.

His hand comes to hold your head, keeping you close as he leads you. You might be embarrassed by the way you melt into him if you were thinking of anything other than how good his touch is and how perfect his lips seem to meld with yours.

You’re filled with a thrilling excitement you don’t know you can compare to anything you’ve felt before. This is new and nice and as the kiss deepens, your nerves turn from jittery butterflies in your belly to a smoldering desire that burns lower and lower. His firm body is pressed to your soft one and his free hand falls to the tail of your back, holding you closer and keeping you there against him before his hand snakes to your hip, wandering up your curves as he feels as much of you as he can. Your own hands are against his stomach as you chase his kiss, fingers fisting the fabric of his button down shirt.

James nips at your bottom lip and you give him entry without a pause, his tongue slipping in your mouth as he kisses you fervently, like something out of a movie. You’ve never been in a situation like this, and you can say with certainty you’ve never been kissed like this either.

You let your hands slide up his torso until you find the first button. As if you’ve done it a million times, you easily begin the tedious task of unbuttoning each one - though you take your time, not wanting to break any as you’re still caught in his hold, still lost in his kiss.

You hate having to break away but you need a breath and despite the loss of contact with your lips, James’ continues to travel along your skin. From your cheek to your jaw and down your neck as you angle yourself to allow him more access, all the while your fingers do their work and your breathing turns heavier. Once the buttons are undone you pull the tails of his shirt from his pants. His hands are still on you, feeling you as he kisses your delicate skin.

Your hands stabilize yourself by holding his sides as he yanks you closer to him still. He’s much thicker than he looked, you realize as you touch him. Your hands wander up his back, wanting to get his undertank off as soon as humanly possible so you can really feel the muscles there.

He brings an arm around your waist and his other hand glides down your back until he gets to your bottom, groaning in your neck as he squeezes you there.

“Buck?”

A loud voice breaks the trance the two of you have been under and causes you to jump as you hear the doors closing and footsteps coming around the side staircase, bringing a different man into view.

You’re startled, and James gallantly moves you just behind him despite your still fully clothed state. You’re still grateful though, you know you must look a little mussed, your cardigan falling down your arms and James’ undone shirt hardly producing any air of innocence about what was unfolding just moments ago.

“Oh, sorry,” the man starts with inquiring eyes, looking between the both of you. He’s just as tall as James and has eyes just as blue. He’s clean shaven, though and not as bulky. Still, they look like they could be brothers. “Professor?” he asks, “Am I interrupting something?”

“She’s not a student, Guy,” James responds, annoyance clear as day in his voice. “I’m not Drysdale.”

“Right,” Guy says on a light, breathy laugh, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He seems uncomfortable at the mention. You see him as he eyes James’ still undone shirt.

“What do you need, Guy?” James asks firmly, getting his eyes back on him.

“It can wait,” he brushes off, “just wanted to say thanks for letting the theatre use the stage again, we appreciate it.” His eyes flick to you and he seems to make a connection. “Elmire?”

Your eyes meet his in surprise, “Um, yeah,” you nod with a small smile, shifting your weight from one leg to the other, arms crossed over your chest.

“Tartuffe,” he gestures to himself with a smile of his own. You suddenly recognize him and take a step forward.

“Wait, did I see you in Death of a Salesman the other month?”

“Yes,” he smiles even more sincerely now, “yes, it’s the year of the classics at the theatre,” he chuckles.

“Right, yeah, you were incredible. Really great performance,” you compliment him.

“Thank you very much. I heard good things just now about your audition, I’m assuming you’re -,”

James interrupts Guy by supplying your name himself, causing you both to look at him. You fight a smile at the sound of it on his lips.

“Well then,” Guy looks back toward you, clearing his throat a bit, “I will be seeing you at your callback,” he turns to James, “and I will be seeing you in the office later.”

He takes a step back, “It was nice to meet you, and thank you again, Bucky.”

The name catches your attention as Guy walks off and James turns back to face you.

He sighs as he looks at you, reaching for your hand which you allow him to take.

His touch is deceptively delicate and you can’t pretend you don’t like it.

“Bucky?” you question. He meets your gaze and gives a sheepish half smile.

“Nickname.”

You nod, “Ah. Makes sense,” you lilt, holding his eye. “Suits you.”

“You can call me Bucky if you’d like. Like the way it sounds when you say it.”

You huff a laugh, looking away. He continues on, “I’m sorry for that interruption, I uhm,” he let’s go of your hand and moves to start buttoning his shirt back up, “I think we’re gonna have to try this again later,” he pauses, glancing back to you, “if you’re still-,”

“I am,” you smile, cutting him off.

He finishes tucking in his shirt and then immediately takes another step closer to you.

His eyes are scrutinizing in the best way as he takes your face gently in his hands, your own coming to hold his wrists; his bright gaze shining into your own. It feels intimate but strangely…right.

“I guess I should be thanking Guy,” he muses. Your brows furrow in unvoiced questioning. His lips quirk at the face you make. “I was taking the advice of someone I’d never normally take advice from being so forward with you. Honestly, it’s not really me,” he admits, admiring the soft smile of your own gracing your lips at his words. “I’m more of the courting type.” You laugh brightly at his choice of words as he smirks. “Old fashioned, I know.”

“No, that’s..That’s good. More my speed. I was uh, stepping a little ways out of my comfort zone with this myself.”

The want that had been burning between you two wasn’t exactly boiling over at the moment, but despite the space between you now, it was still there... Call it a low simmer.

He pulls you closer as you wet your lips and his nose brushes yours. You’re certain he’s about to kiss you and your eyes flutter shut but instead, Bucky pulls away. He lets you go as he bites his own lip and you both hear the opening of the door again before you hear multiple footsteps follow in.

“My class is starting soon. But,” he gets his phone from his back pocket and hands it to you, “we’re still on for dinner?”

You take his phone with a demure smile, feeling somewhat grateful for the shift in direction, and send yourself a text message, saving your contact in his phone before handing it back, his fingers grazing your own. “I’d really like that.”

Students begin to file in and get seated around the auditorium as you stand with Bucky.

You turn to grab your bag and your coffee cup, then face him again. You glance around and notice you’re still relatively alone, most of the students have sat toward the middle of the auditorium, and no eyes seem to be on you, but you keep your voice low anyway.

“And I do get it if you really want to go slow here, but, if you want to…ya know, try this,” you raise your brows, hoping to communicate your meaning, “again, tonight, I’d be up for that, too.”

He nods, a schoolboy smile on his lips as he admires you.

Your lips twitch with a smile of their own, “I’ll see you later.”

You feel a renewed giddiness as you turn from him and he returns your ‘bye’. His eyes are on you as you make your way down the steps and follow you until he can’t any further. You liked the feeling.

Call you crazy, but you think you just might be developing feelings for Bucky already as it is, despite not knowing much more than he seems to be a kind man, gentle, confident, insanely attractive…. You wouldn’t be surprised if this dinner solidified those feelings and more, even further. You’re looking forward to talking with him, really getting to know him.

You may not be one for sex with a stranger, but sex after the first date doesn’t sound too out there for you... Especially not when that date is with Bucky.

[xiaq]

Mom, don’t read this.

Once upon a time, 15-year-old X got her motorcycle license. For three years she was extremely responsible with this privilege, until she went to college.

Unlike her peers, who expressed their desire for rebellion in drinking, drugs, and sexually transmitted diseases, X decided her particular brand of youthful nonconformity would involve motorsports. Namely, street racing.

So, at 18, she set off to seek her fortune with a group of nighttime street-racers that, to be fair, met in a rural area that was unlikely to pose a risk to standard motorists. There were watchmen with walkie talkies (actually, I’m going to show my age, here, they mostly had those horrendous yellow phones that doubled as walky talkies, you remember those? the chirps?) who kept the area clear, and warned of any disturbances.

She went a few times. Raced a few times (won a few times!). It was all, frankly, anti-climactic after a steady diet of progressively more absurd Fast and Furious movies.

Until one night, when someone on watch-duty messed up. Or maybe this was a planned sting of some sort. But the cops arrived; multiple cars. And pretty much everyone ran.

Now, I’d never been in trouble in my life. I had a 4.0 and I was an only child with the definition of helicopter parents (excepting the motorcycle license, and no, I still don’t understand that logic. Can my 15-year-old get a motorcycle? Certainly! Can my 18-year-old headed to college next week have a curfew later than 8pm? Perish the thought! Anyway). In the split second I had to decide, my 18-year-old brain, in its infinite wisdom, said: Motorcycle fast. Police car slow.

So. You know. I…motorcycle fast-ed.

Immediately I was like. SELF!! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!! You just made this so much worse if they catch you!! But I was already in top gear going well over 100mph, so that train of thought quickly turned into: I must not get caught.

I don’t know if you’re aware of how much faster a 600CC motorcycle is than the average Crown Victoria, but just know that it’s a lot. Especially when the motorcycle rider is less than 100lbs.

So the half-dozen of us who all booked it the same direction, we know we’ve got at least one car following us, but they’re a fair ways behind. The trick is getting far enough ahead that you can quickly get off the road and hide without them seeing your exit. So we all start peeling off to find our hiding places.

Now, between our meeting location and my college, there was an IKEA. I’d bought the bookcase for my dorm there. And I’d unpacked the bookcase into my car in the IKEA parking lot, so I could throw away the giant cardboard box in the enormous blue dumpsters behind the store, rather than deal with it back on campus.

I head for the IKEA. I pull around back. I immediately turn off the bike and toe-walk my way between one of the dumpsters and the store wall, completely out of view of the street and most of the parking lot.

It’s literal minutes later that the cop car finally goes flying by, and evidently they don’t think, “hey, I should stop and check behind the IKEA dumpsters.” Several more minutes pass. No more cops.

At this point, the adrenaline turns into existential dread and shaking so bad that I have to put my kickstand down because my anxiety-ridden perfectionist body is not meant for this kind of stress, even when self-inflicted. I quietly have a panic attack, swear to never disobey the law again (unless it’s for civil protest), and, finally, when I’ve pulled myself together around an hour later, I slowly make my way home.

I never attended another race. Because I am a baby.

But I’m a baby who outran the cops, so.

A visual aid of 18-year-old X and her bike (named Shadowfax) (Shadowfax lived up to her name, that night. All hail.)

(To be clear, I do not endorse this behavior. I could have hurt or killed myself going those speeds or even put some innocent bystander in danger had other people been out and about that night. This was very, very, stupid.)

My new boss: “Everyone come to the team meeting with a surprising story about something you’ve done in the past. Something no one would expect of you!”

Me: Googling the statute of limitation for felonies in Texas

[milkoomi]

the basics of health & wellness. ᥫ᭡

a lot of us strive to be that health & wellness icon, but unfortunately we might stumble upon the struggle of trying to figure out where to start. we come across so many health & wellness accounts, creators, videos, books, etc. that might quickly become overwhelming and we just end up lost on where to begin. so let this little guide on the basics be your starting position!

let’s begin …

୨ৎ — physical basics

a lot of the time when we think of “health and wellness”, we think about our physical body. we look for workout routines, we might subscribe to a gym membership, we might try and follow workout youtube videos— but, we always somehow end up losing track of keeping up with that kind of physical activity, especially when we jump right into it.

start small! when i say we’re going to talk about the basics, i mean the very bare minimum basics.

make sure you’re getting enough sleep!

that 7-8 hours of sleep is absolutely vital for your physical health. i made this guide on how to get better sleep that i recommend for those who might struggle with getting a good amount of rest at night!

your body needs to rest and recharge. it needs to go into that sleep mode so that the next day you feel energized!

getting a good amount of sleep each night is an overall basic health and wellness tip! sleep doesn’t have just physical benefits, but it also benefits your mental and emotional well-being too!

drink water daily!

2-3 liters is that sweet spot for water intake, so let that be a daily goal for yourself! even if it’s one glass of water every morning, make sure you’re staying hydrated.

what helped me increase my water intake was by getting myself a super cute water bottle! i have this pastel colored owala water bottle and i’m absolutely obsessed with it and since i love it so much i’ve just been more inclined to drink more water!

stay away from the late night snacks!

i’ve been making it a goal for myself to not eat after, at the latest, 7:30pm. with that, i also try to refrain from getting myself a late night snack.

your stomach needs time to digest all the food you’ve eaten at dinner, and doctors/nutritionists always say not to eat 2-3 hours before going to sleep! going to bed with a full stomach can cause digestive problems, and we’re trying to promote health and wellness for ourselves! not make it worse for us!

get your body moving!

even if it’s going for a short walk or getting up from the couch to stretch or dancing around in your room, you need to start moving your body! get it used to physical activity before you start trying workout routines or going to the gym or following a youtube workout video.

if you’re already a little experienced with physical activity, keep your workout routines simple and short! find beginner level youtube workout videos! again, start small. don’t try to force yourself by diving in head first into something intense!

୨ৎ — mental/emotional basics

health and wellness also means making sure your mental and emotional health & well-being are in check. you can’t do physical activities if your mind isn’t in the right place!

journal, journal, journal!

i talk about journaling A LOT, and i’m going to keep reiterating it over and over again because it works! writing down your thoughts/feelings, brain dumping, creating gratitude lists, writing down daily affirmations; it all truly helps to get yourself into a better headspace!

digital detox

sometimes, it really is that damn phone! social media can be so toxic and draining, so spend some time away from it! i’m going to hold your hand when i say this: doomscrolling on tiktok or instagram reels isn’t going to make you feel better. log out and go do something else!

read a book, journal (told you i’d bring it up again), go for a walk, chat/hangout with a friend/loved one, clean your room, take an everything shower, dance around in your room; just do something that doesn’t involve your phone!

if you want to be on your phone, maybe create a vision board on pinterest or go into your notes app and journal that way! you can also go on youtube and watch inspirational videos/podcasts or any content creators that motivate you or make you feel good.

୨ৎ — spiritual basics

this may or may not apply to you, and if it doesn’t you can go ahead and skip this part! but if it does apply to you, then stay tuned!

your spirituality can be compromised when your health and wellness needs aren’t being met. if you’re a believer in God or you believe in another higher being or the universe, try to get yourself reconnected with your spirituality!

write down prayers/affirmations/manifestations

here i am with the journaling bit again, but seriously, write it down! get into the habit of writing these things down for yourself. you can start your day with writing this stuff down or you can end your day doing so!

consume media that inspires you

youtube videos, podcasts, books, articles, essays, whatever it is just find something that you feel helps you connect with your spiritual side and immerse yourself in it!

it could be content about manifesting, content about God, content about tarot cards/readings; anything that brings you closer with your spirituality.

୨ৎ — final notes

i want to give you guys a little bit of an assignment: write and reflect on your current health and wellness. what are some aspects of it that are going really well? what are some things that still need some work? how are you going to implement healthier habits into your routine?

living healthier and promoting your personal wellness for yourself doesn’t have to be complicated. it’s okay to start off with smaller goals! the health and wellness content creators you see have all started off with the basics and the basics have helped them grow! just because it’s a small act or a tiny change, it doesn’t mean you aren’t going to see big improvements!

with lots of love, faustina 🌷

[eddiesvixen]

Jessie’s Girl

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳, 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁, 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲, 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗴𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲, 𝗮 𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮 𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗿, 𝘀𝗺𝗼𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 (𝗰𝗶𝗴𝘀)

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗻𝘁: 𝟰.𝟱𝗸

the third chapter of Open Til Midnight

June 23, 1979.

You and Eddie were at Skull Rock. Fourteen years young and laying back on a blanket, snacking and listening to Black Sabbath together. Eddie’s got his vest off, sewing a new patch onto it.

“Motörhead.”

“Yeah. Can you believe I got this at the fabric store. Kenny made it for me.” He smiles as he sews the patch on.

“Wish we could see them live. No way would they ever come here.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t even think they know Hawkins exists.”

You look over him. Eddie’s changed from a punk to thrash guy. His curls moving with every head shake to the music. “Your hair’s growing so long.”

“Yeah. Wayne says I’m starting to look more and more like my mom. Think he just wanted an excuse to say I look ridiculous again.”

You laugh. “You know he means well.”

“Yeah.. think he’s just tired of buying new shampoo. Not like he needed any hair cair.” He snorts.

“You tried another shampoo?” That’s the third one this month. Eddie just wants to make sure his mane smells good. He remembers in those interviews on Mtv that girls are attracted to rockstars and hire they smell, what they wear, what they play. With his new hairdo, new hellfire tees and promised gigs at the hideout on tuesdays, he was on the route to that dream.

“I did.” He smirks, proud of himself. “Go on give it a whiff.”

You lean in and his curls tickle your nose. You hum. “Blueberries?”

He nods. “And..”

“Something minty.” You raise a brow. “Peppermint?”

“Lemon mint.” He smiles. “What do you think?”

You giggle. “Think I have the same one.”

His eyes widen. “You’re joking right?”

“Wish I were. You’re swooning ladies with their own shampoo, Eddie.” You giggle and he shakes his head.

“Blasphemy. The bottle was in the men’s section.”

“Yeah but did you read the bottle? Did it say mens?”

“I just smelled it and put it in the cart.” He smiles at your laughter, now laughing at himself. “Damn. I can’t win can I?”

“Well you’re still new to having hair this long. And you’ve got all summer to rebirth yourself.”

“Damn straight, princess. And we’re gonna go through high school like nothing. Me and the boys can rehearse and have some real campaigns now that we’ve got the club. And since we’ve got gigs at the Hideout maybe we’ll finally be seen. Gonna focus on getting signed. Getting out of here.”

You love when Eddie gets like this. Talking about his dreams for Corroded Coffin. For his band.

“Leaving me so soon?” You nudge his foot with yours and he returns the gesture.

“I’m offended.” He clutches his chest yet again. “You think i’d let you stay here? No. Screw that, you’d be with us all the time.”

You can’t help but smile. “You are the sappiest metalhead I know. Nerdiest too.”

“Nerds have more fun.“ He winks at you. “And if im a sap so be it. You’re my best friend and you’re always here for me. We’re a package deal, sweetheart, no matter what.”

You grin. “No matter what.”

Best friends. A package deal. You and Eddie were and still are, inseparable. You swore that you’d always be there for each other no matter what, which is why Eddie’s disturbed today. He can’t stop thinking about how weird you were, how avoidant you behaved before leaving his apartment yesterday. He knew something was wrong but he didn’t want to pry. Not when there’s bigger things to focus on.

As you organize the cds, you try to focus on literally anything to get your mind off of Eddie. The ding of the door when a customer walks in, the sound of the Talking Heads from the store speakers, the annoying baby crying in his mother’s arms from the Fleetwood Mac section.

All you see is Eddie. His hair, his body, his face in those pictures. His lips so pink and arms so toned. Maybe he has been working out. Those jeans made his thighs looks so good, that slim waist.. you inly imagined how good his ass looked in them. And seeing him naked like that. His scarce happy trail leading down to his-

“Found it. Thought this broke ages ago but I can take it to Argyle’s buddy, see if he can check it out.” Jonathan says as he holds a half damaged amp from the break room.

“Looks good enough to sell. Did you check for any plugs?”

“No but im taking Robin and Steve to three different pawn shops so if we get a good deal just call.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you after.”

You head to the register to take up for Robin while she leaves. Selling the old amps and guitars, different things you don’t use anymore from the storage space next to the store. It’s an easy way to add cash to your current savings. You just hope it’s enough.

~~~~

Your shift is going nice. It’s an easy one. Monday’s usually are. Inventory is done, customers come and go and you enjoy your spot at the register, talking with different customers and introducing them to new music.

Chrissy walks up to the counter. “Hey, i’m taking lunch so Eddie’s gonna cover for me up here.”

Eddie. Just great. You hadn’t spoken to him since yesterday after seeing those pictures.

“Okay.”

She smirks and looks in the rock section. You think Eddie’s standing there but no, it’s someone else but still, someone familiar.

“That cute blonde guy’s back again.” She smiles and looks at you.

“He always comes on mondays.” You nod and shrug, not thinking much of him.

“I know. He flirts with you every monday.” She grins, with a suggestive look in her eyes.”

“Is it flirting if I don’t reciprocate?.”

“Yes.” She smiles. “Come on, you haven’t had a date since when?”

Since last October. You found him hooking up with some other girl, she looked nothing like you. And you honestly didn’t know if that hurt you more or relieved you.

“Give it a rest, chris. He’s a customer and I am not interested in some random guy-“

“Could I get one of those Springsteen pins?” He smiles, vinyls in hand and a cute grin on his face.

He’s got the cutest nose and blue eyes so captivating, the ocean would be jealous. Maybe it is. His beachy waves of blonde hang over his forehead a bit.

You grab the pin and grin as he sets his yinyls on the counter. Bruce Springsteen, Bon Jovi, Madonna, Aerosmith. Of course he gets Aerosmith, he always does.

“Madonna?” You raise your brow.

“It’s for my sister.” He’s quick to respond. “But I do love a good material girl.”

“Can’t argue with that.” You smile, ignoring how Chrissy’s been glancing at the both of you from the record player behind the counter.

“That’s a nice ring you got there.” He nods at the silver ring on your left middle finger, a dark onyx gem in the center.

“Thanks, was a gift.”

You remember turning 20, and the big party you all threw here in this very store. Steve walked you out for a surprise lunch and when you came back, everyone had party hats and hung streamers. The store closed earlier that day as you all shared cake and drinks.

Everyone gave you their gifts at the party but Eddie waited to drive you home to give you his gift. The ring looked so expensive and he explained he saved up for it for months. When he slid it onto your finger it just made since, it was perfect. And you looked into each other’s eyes. You still remember what he told you that night in the van. His voice.

“Excuse me.”

His voice.

“Shit.. sorry.”

You move to the side to let him reach under the counter. Sharpie. More vinyls to be shipped out. Chrissy steps back to let Eddie key into the register since he’s next to check out customers here.

You bag up the customer’s cds and he hands you his cash.

“Will this be all?” You ask the blonde guy.

“Yeah,” he nods and takes the bag and his change from you. “Actually um, I just wanted to ask if you were busy. Tomorrow.”

Chrissy looks at Eddie. Eddie looks at your foot. Your boot tapping against the rug. Nerves. And he feels them too.

“Um.. well, I have to work, so..”

“What time do you get off?”

“Seven.” You nod.

“How about I pick you up? Take you for dinner?” He smiles.

Suddenly Eddie hates the color blue, seeing how the guy’s eyes light up when you say..

“Sure.”

He smiles. “Well great. I will.. i’ll see you then,” he looks at your nametag then saying your name.

“I’ll see you then..”

He smiles. “Jessie.”

You grin. “Bye Jessie.”

He leaves and goes out the door. Chrissy decides to leave to avoid the awkward conversation she knows is about to take place. You focus on your register as the space behind the counter feels smaller. You’ve told yourself too many times that Eddie is just your best friend and he definitely doesn’t see you like that. If he did, he would’ve made a move, and he hasn’t made a move. You needed something. Anything, to get your mind off of the pictures of Eddie that you saw. If it was a date with Jessie then so be it.

After some silence you Eddie speaks up, his voice a bit relaxed. Too relaxed.

“Dating the Aerosmith guy?”

“I guess dinner would be nice.” You look at him and he hasn’t looked up from the clipboard as he writes down the packages he’s signed and boxed up.

“He pulled the push door again on his way out.” The corner of his mouth lifts a bit as that familiar smug smirk starts to form.

You grin. “What are you keeping tabs on him?”

He huffs out a small laugh and shakes his head, his messy curls falling with each movement. He whips his hair back to look at you this time.

“Maybe I should if he’s taking my best friend on a date.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms. "Since when do you get all possessive?"

He leans against the counter, the smirk growing as he shrugs. "Since Aerosmith wannabes started sniffing around you."

You roll your eyes but the warmth rising in your cheeks betrays you. "It's just dinner, Eddie. And it's not like I need your approval."

He places a hand over his heart. "Approval? Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart. But a warning? Absolutely."

You raise a brow, trying to read him. It’s a bit impossible to right now. "And what exactly are you warning me about?"

He taps the clipboard against the counter, thinking for a second before locking eyes with you. "Those guys always have an angle. Dinner leads to dessert, dessert leads to backstage passes and before you know it, you're a line in one of their breakup ballads."

You can’t help but to laugh. “Are you telling me Corroded Coffin has lines about girls in their ballads?”

He chuckles. “Did you see any girls lined up to talk to us?”

“Well, not really.” You bite your lip. “You really think Jessie’s like that?”

Hearing you say his name scars Eddie but he’s playing it cool. “Don’t know. Just looking out for you, someone has to.”

You meet his gaze with a playful challenge in your eyes. "And what if I don't need looking out for? What if I like the idea of being a song lyric?"

He leans in closer, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. "Then you're more reckless than I thought."

You swallow at the closeness and for a moment, the air between you changes. Charged and heavy like the static before a storm. His smirk falters for just a second, replaced by something softer, something... real. Something innocent. Those soft boyish features that hide how rowdy and chaotic he is.

A customer walks up to his register. He looks over your face and speaks lowly for only your ears. “Just be careful.”

He stands straight and greets the woman, ringing up her tapes and you swallow and stand in front of your register.

~~~~~

Tuesday. Four days until the first.

Steve managed to get a decent six hundred for a box of some of his old sneakers. Jonathan and Robin made four hundred and thirty seven dollars for the amps and an old acoustic guitar. You added the cash together from Hopper’s pile and the college dealings you and Eddie did on Sunday.

You sit in the break room, counting the cash as you hear a curse from the restroom.

You call out. “Are you okay?”

“Uh.. all good , sweetheart.”

The door’s cracked open so you take a break and walk over, walking in after he tells you to. You gasp, seeing he has scissors in his hand, his thumb bleeding as he sucks his wounded finger.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You quickly grab the scissors.

“Just a trim.” Eddie winces and reaches for the first aid kit.

You take out the bandages and shake your head. “To your bangs? You’ve actually lost your mind.”

He flips on the sink and washes his hands. Drying them and taking the bandaid from you. “Thanks mom, but I think i’ve got it.”

Your brows furrow. “But you always let me trim your hair.”

He shrugs and looks away. “Didn’t think you wanted to.”

You couldn’t blame him for how he felt. You just pull him to sit on the lid of the toilet seat and take out the scissors. He gives a small nod of surrender, letting you do as you please. You stand between his legs and get to trimming.

You speak softer. “I’m sorry I haven’t been more communicative.”

“You don’t need to apologize, princess. Just.. worried I made you upset or something.”

You raise a brow. “Why would I be upset?”

He looks up at you. “The party.”

Your eyes widen a bit. The college party? “What do you mean?”

He fiddles with the rips in his jeans a bit. “You really dont remember?”

He’s hesitant and that worries you a bit. “Eddie what happened?”

He speaks in a tone so low as if to save you embarrassment from each other. “You know, when you tried to kiss me.”

What?

“What?”

“When you had that smirnoff and we sold the last bag of K, you like.. grabbed my face and pulled me down.” He looks away.

“Oh I.. I didn’t know-“

“It’s okay. I know you were pretty drunk you had like ten of those things.” He sighs. “I guess I just.. when you tried to kiss me I kinda grabbed your hands and told you to stop. I thought you might’ve been pissed at me and left in a hurry on Sunday.”

You can’t believe yourself right now. Wanting to kiss Eddie? Hell yes. But making him feel like your behavior was his fault and not due to your own discovery? Not in a million years.

“No. Eddie I, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get handsy or weird. It’s just.. so much going on. I feel like shit.”

He looks up at you. “I don’t mind at all. I get you wanted to get drunk and forget about your worries for a bit. I just can’t stand the way things are right now.” You watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “I miss you.”

You look back into his eyes. “I miss you too, Eddie.”

He sighs and stands up, pulling you into a hug in which you happily and quickly return. It feels good being this close to him. His hair tickling your skin, the warmth of his body, his scent. That scent.

He raises a brow when he feels your body tremble from holding in a laugh. “What?”

You laugh. “Blueberries and lemon mint!”

He laughs along with you. “Damn, I feel exposed princess. You’re being a bad friend.”

“You still use that same shampoo?”

“Hey it hasn’t failed me in the ten years that i’ve been using it and I plan on keeping it that way.” He points a finger at you so you point one back.

You grin, leaning closer as your finger playfully taps his. "Ten years, huh? That's commitment. You might be more loyal to that shampoo than anything else in your life."

He chuckles, dropping his hand but not stepping away from you. "Maybe. But hey if it smells good and works why change it?"

You tilt your head, your smile softening as you study him. “Fair enough.” You sit the scissors down as he rakes his fingers through his hair.

“You look really nice today.” He says a bit sheepishly.

You do. After all, you had a date tonight. You wanted to make an impression. Since you and Jessie agreed on a casual night out you wore a brand new pair of light wash jeans, the bootcut ones that show off your curves in the best way. Your pretty white notched Twisted Sister tee and your hair beautifully worn to your liking.

“Thanks. I mean, I didn’t wanna scare him away on the first date with a shit ton of eyeliner or some demonia’s.”

“If that scares any guy away then he’s blind.”

You smile, cheeks tinged with heat. “Thanks, Eddie.”

“Promise me if things get weird you’ll call me.”

“I promise.”

“Good.” He gives a small grin. “I would hate to show blondie the beast.”

“The beast?” You laugh. “Eddie, have you ever actually won a fight?”

He gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. "I'll have you know I almost won plenty of fights, thank you very much."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Almost doesn't count, Eddie."

He narrows his eyes playfully, leaning against the counter. "Alright princess, remind me never to count on you for moral support.” He straightens up a bit. “But seriously. If he does anything sketchy, call me. I'll be there in ten minutes. Fifteen if traffic sucks but i’ll be there.”

“Thanks, Eddie.” You grin.

He shrugs, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a half smile. "Anytime. Just don't forget about us regular folk when blondie sweeps you off your feet."

You roll your eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. No one's sweeping me anywhere.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

You lock eyes for a second. A warmth there that had been missing for a few days. So you almsot drunk kissed him and saw his pics, big whoop. If Eddie could move on from the avoidance so can you. The sweet moment is interrupted when Robin speaks over the intercom.

“Dingus needed at the register, the doors are now open.”

You both laugh.

“Duty calls,” he says, pushing off the counter and backing up to the door. "And remember, if he so much as looks at you wrong-"

"I know, I know," you interrupt with a laugh. "The beast will be unleashed."

"Damn right," he says, flashing you a grin before the door shuts behind him.

~~~~~

It was a nice day. No rude customers, your friendships were all good, and when you finished counting up the money you were closing in on having over five thousand. It’s only half, but it’s more than you started with before. But you promised yourself to focus on one thing tonight.

Jessie.

He’d taken you to a small bar with live music and then you grabbed dinner at the diner. You two got along well, talking rock music and careers. He was nice, a gentleman. He seemed pretty perfect. Too perfect. You two sit in the booth as you wait for dessert.

“I wanted to ask you something.” He sits up.

“Okay.”

He hesitates, not sure how to begin. But he does it anyways. “I come to the store a lot and well.. you dress differently a lot. I thought you were like some kind of goth or something.”

You smile. “Well I like goth music too but metal’s got my heart through and through.”

“Right but uh,” he shifts a bit in his seat and shrugs. “I mean you’re still normal to me, you know? Not like the rest of that crowd.”

You wait for the waitress to walk away after bringing your desserts. Jessie got cheesecake and you went for a milkshake per usual. Once she walks away you speak up.

“Rest of the crowd, huh?”

“Yeah. Like this really weird girl at my campus, she paints her face white and wears a bunch of pentagrams.” He hums and snaps. “And that one guy at Empire, with the messy hair? He’s got like some weird tattoos. I think one’s the devil-“

“It’s a horned demon from a board game.” You say softly, trying not to show how offended you feel.

“Yeah but, I don’t know. Just saying you’re not like them. At all.”

You stir your milkshake with the straw, forcing a tight smile as your stomach twists uncomfortably. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jessie leans back in his side of the booth, completely oblivious to your growing irritation. "I mean you're normal. You know, you don't go overboard with all that creepy goth stuff. You've got style, but you're not like... a freak." He laughs like he's made some kind of joke, but the sound grates against your nerves.

Freaks. What they called you and your friends in school. Years later and now on this date it all feels the same. So infuriating.

You put your milkshake down, suddenly finding it hard to look at him. "You know, some of us freaks actually like that 'creepy goth stuff," you say, trying to keep your tone light, though the edge in your voice betrays you.

Jessie raises an eyebrow. "Oh, come on. You know I didn't mean you. You're cool. But those people? They're just... weird. It's not normal."

You sit back on your end this time and cross your arms. “Define normal, Jessie. Because I'm pretty sure painting your face and having tattoos doesn't make someone less of a person."

He looks genuinely baffled, like he has no idea why you're upset. "I don't know, it's just... people like that are trying too hard, you know? Like they want attention or something. But not you, you're different."

"Sure," you say, your voice colder now. "I'm different because I tone it down for people like you, right?"

Jessie stares at you, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "What? No! I just meant you're not... extreme like them."

You sigh and rub your temple. “Jessie I.. I should go.”

His brows furrow. “What?”

“Those freaks are my friends. The people I love and consider family. And i’m not gonna sit here and let you badmouth us because you can’t accept that not everyone is a conventional as little perfect Jessie.”

You slap a ten on the table for your meal and stand, walking away before he could say anything else. Assholes like Jessie and Larry get away with everything and you’ve had enough. You just wanted comfort. Someone who got you, someone who would never judge you, never disappoint you.

You think of the one person who’s always been there. Inserting a coin into the phone booth you call him.

~~~~~

“What a dick.” Eddie says, puffing out a cloud of smoke from his cigarette as he drives you in his van.

“It’s okay. Just.. glad that’s over.”

Eddie smirks. He figures you could use a laugh. “You know.. when he picked you up, we were being nice but the second he pulled of Robin thought it was a good idea to play Jessie’s Girl on the speakers.”

You laugh. “Oh i’m gonna kill her.”

“Kill Steve, he was really into it.” He chuckles and starts to dance. “He hit us with this move.” He wiggles his hips in his seat and shakes his shoulders.

You laugh. “You know what, you guys are so not funny.”

He smiles. “Sorry, princess. Can’t help but to tease you for going on a date with that goofball.”

"Yeah, yeah," you reply, rolling your eyes but unable to hide your grin. "You're all comedians. Real original."

Eddie chuckles again, flicking the ash from his cigarette out the window. "I mean come on princess, you can do better."

You lean back in your seat, crossing your arms "Oh, and who exactly should I be going out with? Got any suggestions, Munson?"

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, his smirk faltering just for a moment before returning full force. "I don't know, maybe someone who won't make Robin crank up Rick Springfield to cope."

You laugh again, shaking your head. "That's a pretty low bar."

"Exactly," he says, flashing you a cheeky grin.

"You deserve a guy who actually likes what you like. Someone cool. Someone, dare I say… metal." He emphasizes the word with a dramatic air guitar move, almost swerving the van in the process.

"Jesus, Eddie! Watch the road!" you yell, clutching the door for support.

He laughs, straightening the wheel. "Relax, princess. I got it under control. Besides, you're safe with me."

You give him a skeptical look, but his words linger in the air longer than you expected. Safe. Judgement free, laughing, smiling, safe with Eddie. There's something about the way he says it so casually but full of weight that makes your stomach flutter.

You clear your throat, looking out the window to avoid his gaze. "Well, maybe next time you can pick my date. Since you're such an expert on who I should be with."

He grins but doesn't respond right away. Instead, he takes another drag of his cigarette, the soft glow of it illuminating his face from the night sky. "Maybe I will," he says finally, his tone teasing but with a silent edge you can't quite place.

You glance at him and raise a brow. "I'm not sure if I should be terrified or intrigued."

Eddie smirks, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music playing softly from the radio. "A little bit of both, princess. Keeps things interesting."

You shake your head, fighting the smile creeping onto your lips. "You're impossible."

"I prefer the term eccentric," he shoots back, flashing you another grin.

You smile, enjoying the ride and the music and Eddie. It’s how things have always been. How things should always be. Forget the shitty date and the corporate assholes that have been ruining your month. This moment here with Eddie is all you need to keep going.

taglist: @pupwrites @sheneedsrocknroll92 @koshkahhh @kthomps914

[ambeauty]

thoughts about Sydney and Carmy’s Love Story as told through the music in The Bear

If you know anything about the bear you know that the music is extremely important to the storytelling. There have been many metas about specific songs and versions of songs and the artists and genre influence the story. For this one, I’d like to illustrate how I think the music replaces the dialogue and tells Sydney and Carmy’s love story more overtly. Chris curates the music and editing choices himself so I know that every song choice is intentional as well as where they are placed. I believe that when the dialogue drops out and the lyrics come in and are transcribed into the subtitles, it is done to illustrate what the characters are feeling in these moments even when they can’t explain those feelings themselves. These are just a few examples but I believe there are many many more.

Season 1

Impossible Germany by Wilco- plays infamously behind Sydney and Carmy in Sheridan as she discusses her catering business failing. Their first moment of vulnerability. Sydney also asks Carmy for help. Something she doesn’t really like to do. The lyrics on the subtitles are “That’s what love is.”

Season 2

Pasta- You are Not Alone by Mavis Staple - the through line of the entire season. This song plays as Sydney has dinner with her father to celebrate her mother’s birthday and Carmy is reintroduced to Claire. This moment initiates what is the central rift between these two characters will be. Who are theoretically loners, but able to find kinship with each other. However a new character threatens that dynamic and possibility. The lyrics of You Are Not Alone describe them perfectly.

Forks - Love Story by Taylor Swift- “Marry me Juliet you never have to be alone. I talked to your dad go pick out a white dress.”

This lyric plays at the end credits of forks. The beginning of forks shows Carmy and Sydney working on the renovations of the bear. Separately but together, yet still alone. I also think that lyric represents the future partnership agreement which is a business marriage of the two. Once they are official partners, they’ll never have to be alone. Also "I talk to your dad" is funny because we know how Emmanuel feels about Carmy and how they have yet to meet. What will that meeting mean for Sydney and Carmy?

Most episodes in S2 after the end of Sundae, where Sydney loses trust in Carmy after her ditches her, shows her doing research and design alone. She never goes back to his home.

Even though Carmy is with Claire there’s a sense of loneliness for him in her world, because he doesn’t quite fit. This might be a reach, but I just tried to analyze his body language in Pop, which to me felt stiff and uneasy. He knows he’s supposed to be somewhere else but he’s trying to cure his loneliness with Claire as she is the first person that truly forces him to confront his failures at forming romantic relationships.

Season 3

No Machine by Adrianne Lenker - the lyrics "don’t know what I’d do without you" illustrate a scene where Carmy is thinking of a conversation with Claire, the scene cuts and everything is blurry around him but Sydney's voice is clear, the scene cuts again and its Richie in the dining room listening but thinking about his family. Another lyric/subtitle "don't know where I'd go without you" and it cuts again to Sydney at home contemplating her relationship with Carmy from the beginning. All 3 of our main characters are contemplating what they mean to each other and what their life is like with them in it. I think this song describes the throughline of the season as well. They are all contemplate the importance of these bonds they have created and what they actually mean.

I'm quite sure there are many other examples of this occurring but I don't have the capacity to do the amount of research this requires. However, if you notice this pattern of the music enhancing the emotional depth of the characters and the story and want to share please do so.

Hopefully this makes sense and not more senseless sydcarmy babble!

[hmhas-00]

Ch. 13

Hit Me Hard & Soft

A/N- Hiii! Remember I will be posting a new chapter every Thursday. If you’d like to be added to a tag list, please let me know! Don’t forget to like and repost! <3

Remy’s POV

I smiled at my reflection in the mirror, trying on the costume that I ordered. I was going to be sexy Scream. Billie was going to her party dressed as Todd from Bojack Horseman and insisted that I dress up as Princess Carolyn, but honestly I just wanted to go for something more… I don’t know, sexy?

I take a picture and send it to her, hoping for approval.

Immediately I get heart eye and fire emojis, followed by a FaceTime call.

I answered, pointing the camera at the mirror and posing in different ways. “What do we think?”

“Hot. But you’d look hotter as Princess Carolyn.” Billie teased.

I rolled my eyes, reverting to front camera again. “Too bad, Todd.” I stuck my middle finger up at her, then set my phone up on my dresser pointing at me from the waist up. “What time are you getting here tonight?” I asked, unzipping my costume.

“Around 10, probably.”

Turning around to face the other wall, I dropped my bodysuit around my ankles. “You still coming over?” I had to repeat myself, figuring she didn’t hear me. “Billie. You still wanna come over later?” I turned around, clipping my bra back on.

“Sorry, yeah. Duh.” She finally answered. “And those cinnamon rolls better be ready when I get there.” She emphasized.

“They will be. I just have to make the icing.” I pulled on some sweats and grabbed the phone, walking over to my kitchen.

“You mind if I bring someone to your party?” I asked, setting the phone down on the counter as I reached for a bowl and ingredients.

“Not at all. Do I know them?” She asked.

Suddenly my phone started buzzing. “Hold up, I gotta get this call. It’s work.”

“Call me back!” Billie said, before I hung up and answered the next call.

“Hey, Rachel, what’s up?” I held the phone between my shoulder and cheek as I mixed the ingredients together.

“Hey, Remy, is this a good time?” She sounded a bit sporadic.

“Uhh, yeah, what’s going on?” I hesitated.

“Sooo… Remember that interview we did for the digital article we were brainstorming for? The one for the app?”

“The one we did with RAYE?” I put the whisk down and adjusted my phone.

“Yes! That one!”

“What about it?”

“So, Joe wants it up by tomorrow. Something about needing to beat People magazine? An insider told him they’re publishing a similar piece with her.”

“Well, yeah, she’s definitely getting more traction.” I said, already knowing what comes next.

“I know you’re gonna hate me, but I really need you to go to the office, get on my computer, and finish the article out. Oh- And set it to be published by tomorrow in the morning!” Her high pitched voice was fast and panicked.

“Rachel, I had plans tonight and-“

“I’d do it myself but I’m all the way in San Diego at this conference thing. Its mostly done, and saved to my drafts. It’s really urgent.” She pleaded, knowing Joe would be extremely pissed if she didn’t follow through.

“Sure, I’ll be on my way in a little bit.”

“Ugh! You’re the best! I owe you one! Don’t forget to credit yourself on the article too!” She squealed.

“Oh, trust me, I won’t.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll see you later, don’t worry.”

“Love ya, girly! Thanks again!” She hung up.

I groaned, finishing up the icing and shoving the bowl in the fridge. In my room, I threw on a yellow baby tee, some wide legged jeans, and put my hair in a red claw clip. I stopped by the round mirror next to my apartment door to check on my face, fixing the minor details, and walked out with my beige crossbody bag.

At the office when I accessed Rachel’s computer, I quickly realized I had a lot of work to do. I sat for hours editing, deleting, then retyping her work. My eyes were shutting on me as I concluded the article, exhausting my brain to come up with anything impressive.

My phone began to ring, making me jump. I answered the call, my heart racing from the sudden scare.

“Hey, I just landed!” Billie sang.

“Fuck. Hey, I’m sorry, I got so busy and I’m stuck at the office right now-“

“Remy!” She moaned. I could hear her disappointment through the phone.

“No, don’t worry, I’m wrapping it up! Just head over to my place and wait for me in there. You still have my spare key, right?”

“Yeah.” She said, monotoned.

“I’ll be there so soon, just put those cinnamon rolls in the oven and by the time they’re ready, I’ll be there with you.”

“Okay, Rem.” She said goodbye.

I cracked my knuckles and rolled my shoulders back, sitting up straight. I used every single one of my last brain cells to come up with a brilliant conclusion to the article. I let the interview speak for itself and included some quotes from the amazing Raye, but I found myself in the biggest case of writers block I’ve ever had. All I could think about was how much I hated Rachel in this moment for making me do this myself, knowing Joe would give her all the credit.

Eventually, after an hour and a half, I finished what could possibly be the worst article I’ve ever written. It wasn’t bad, just rushed, and I usually don’t work well under pressure. Before posting the article, I stared at the space underneath, where credit is usually given to the writer and editor. I hesitated to delete Rachel’s name, and typed in my own. I stared at it some more, deleting my name and retyping Rachel’s full name, then my name under editor. I sighed, setting the article to be posted tomorrow morning at 8am.

I shut the laptop and grabbed all my things, rushing out the door.

When I arrived at my apartment building, I pressed the elevator button a million times, ending up at my door and unlocking it as fast as I could.

I opened my door, psyched to see my best friend, only to see her passed out on my couch in her comfy clothes. I quietly closed the door, hanging my things on the tiny rack. In the kitchen, was a half empty baking tray with cinnamon rolls. The icing was poured over, and the rolls were starting to get cold. I put them away, covering the top with foil, and cleaned up a little.

I tip toed over to my couch, wondering how she was able to fall asleep on a two seater comfortably. She was curled up in a little ball, with my pastel crocheted blanket covering half of her face. I smiled down at her, feeling awful I made her wait so long alone. I wanted to welcome her home with open arms, and fresh, warm cinnamon rolls.

I turned off the tv, and turned down the lights, leaving only my soft, warm, reading lamp on. I patted her lightly. “Billie… I’m home.” I brushed the hair that fell over her eyes behind her ear, and leaned down to hug her tired body. I buried my face in her neck and took that sweet, familiar scent in, bringing a smile to my face. I wish I could carry her to my bed, but let’s be honest, I don’t have any upper body strength. “You’re so warm, and you smell like cinnamon rolls.” I whispered.

She let out a slight moan and stretched out her curled up feet. Her lashes fluttered open, turning her neck a little as I sat up. “Hi!” I smiled ear to ear.

“Remyyyyy!” She stretched her arms out, wrapping them around my neck.

“Hiii! It’s me!”

“I missed you.” she pulled me into her chest. I crawled on top of her and laid there, propping my head up to see her.

“I know, I’m sorry I made you wait. It was an emergency.”

“You know what else is an emergency?” she said, lifting a brow, jokingly. “Me kicking your ass for not spending any time with me while I’m here.”

“Stop!” I laughed, deep down feeling awful. “No more. I’m all yours for the rest of the weekend.”

She placed both her hands on my face, looking at me for a moment, before squishing my cheeks together. “You better be.”

I placed my hands on top of hers, taking in the moment. I had missed her so much. Nothing was going to keep me from spending time with her. She deserved my undivided attention for making the time to see me. I believe she felt the same, her eyes scanning me as I smiled up at her.

“Okay. I need to see this costume in person.” She broke the silence.

I laughed, “Okay, let’s go.” I stood up, pulling her into my room.

I pulled out the costume and began to undress. Billie sat on my bed, her legs criss crossed. “So, who are you bringing tomorrow?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m probably not gonna bring anyone anymore.”

“Aw, why? They cancelled?” She leaned back on her hands.

“No, it’s not that. I just wanna hang out with you there.” I pulled up my nylon tights.

“Nah, bring your friend, Rem. We can all hang out!” She shrugged.

“Really?” I smiled, squeezing into the tight bodysuit.

“Is it Rachel?” She asked, signaling me over to her so she could zip me up.

“No. It’s this girl.”

“At least it’s not some guy.” She laughed, sliding the zipper up, adjusting my straps.

“Well, no it’s not a guy, but it’s this girl I’ve sorta been talking to.” I admitted, nervously.

I’d never really been in a serious relationship with a woman, at least not in the way I had with a man. I don’t think I’d ever told Billie I tried with girls, despite them being some of my favorite interactions. They were too short lived to bring up. I knew how hesitant she was about my relationships, and didn’t usually bring them around her until it was serious. Especially because I had been used to get near Billie before. Especially by girls.

“Like, as friends?” She turned me around, keeping her hands on my shoulders.

“No…” I pursed my lips.

“Wow! I didn’t know you-“ She blinked rapidly, looking shocked. “That’s awesome, Rem.” She let go, realizing she was still holding onto my shoulder straps.

“Yeah, it’s kinda a new thing, I guess…”

“No, I’m just… Why didn’t you ever tell me? I mean you know I’m-“ She scooted to the edge of the bed, her legs hanging off the side. “I’m sorry, this is just the first I’m hearing of this Remy.” She giggled, her eyes wide.

“Jeez, is it that surprising?” I smacked her tummy.

“Yes!” She laughed. “What’s her name? Who is she?” She pulled me on the bed, desperately trying to gather as much information as she could. “Show me her instagram!”

“Her name’s Stevie. She works at Variety with me. She’s an intern.” I pulled up her instagram showing her my favorite pictures.

“Ouu, cute.” She took the phone from my handed scrolling through her whole profile. “How long has this been a thing? Is it like a serious thing?”

“No, no. We’re just talking. She… I don’t even think she knows I like her like that.” I shrugged, laughing a bit.

“Oh, well she definitely likes you. You look her type.” She handed me back my phone.

“Her type?” I looked at her.

“Yeah, pretty girls with pretty eyes, long hair, and tattoos.” She looked me up and down, pointing at my arm tattoos.

I laughed, getting up and walking over to my body mirror. “I hope so.”

She stayed quiet, watching me look in the mirror.

“So? What do you think?” I looked over my shoulder at her.

“You look stunning. Insane.” Billie smiled at me. I could see her through the mirror, her expression turning blank once I turned.

“Is that why you didn’t wanna be Princess Carolyn with me?”

“Kinda?” I turned to her, shrugging.

“You’re such a loserrr!”

“But I’m a sexy loser.” I held my finger up in the air, making her laugh. I took a couple pictures of myself in the mirror.

“Here.” She offered to take them for me, pulling out her phone. I posed, the flash reflecting off the mirror behind me. She leaned back, getting my best angles, as always.

“Why didn’t you tell me you liked girls?” She asked, her voice soft and quiet.

She sounded a bit hurt, like I hid something from her. I couldn’t help but feel like I kept a part of myself from her.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” I walked over to her, turning around so she could unzip me.

“How long?”

“Mmm… a while. You remember Cassie?”

She nodded.

“We did some things… I think that’s when I realized.”

“You never told me about that!” She crossed her arms.

“I’m sorry! I just didn’t think it was that big of a deal.” I shrugged, stepping out of my costume, pulling off my tights. “It’s not like I had anything serious with any of them. I’ve only ever told you about my serious relationships.”

“Well yeah, but-“ She stopped herself, looking disappointed. I put a giant t-shirt on over my bra and underwear, and hung up my costume for tomorrow. “You tell me everything. I told you…”

“I know.” I climbed on my bed, getting under the sheets. “I thought you kinda knew, I guess.”

“Well…” She crawled over and made herself comfortable next to me. “Now that I know… You better not hit on me.” She joked.

I laughed, grabbing my pillow and hitting her in the face with it. “You wish.” I rolled my eyes.

“Ow! My eye!” She held her face, wincing her eyes.

“Oh shit! I’m sorry!” I grabbed her face, moving her hand so I could see. “I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

“Gotcha bitch!” She licked the side of my face and rolled away, almost falling off the bed. She laughed that crazy, loud laugh I loved so much.

“Oh- Fuck you dude come here!” I kicked my feet into her back, pushing her off the edge as she died of laughter.

I got back in my spot, fluffing my pillow and getting comfortable again. She stood up, pushing her hair out of her face and plopping back on the bed with me. “My stomach hurts from laughing so much.” She put a hand on her tummy, breathing deeply to catch her breath.

My full-size bed was just big enough for the both of us, as long as I kicked off a few of my many pillows. I turned on our show, letting it run in the background as we talked a bit more before falling asleep.

“I’m so happy you’re here.” I smile, still paying attention to the tv.

“Me too.” She said, pausing to laugh at something one of the characters on tv said. “So are you bringing Stevie?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “Do you think she’ll like my costume?”

“She’s going to die when she sees you.” Her voice sounded genuine.

“Do you think I should ask her out tomorrow?” I looked over at her, putting a hand on my mouth.

She looked at me, not knowing what to say. She bit her bottom lip, shrugging with her eyebrows instead of her arms, since they were warmly tucked under my blankets. “I mean, maybe just wait and see what she says. You don’t wanna push things, you know?” She advised me.

I nodded, looking back at the tv.

“That’s just what I’d do, you know?” Her eyes stayed on me. “But, do whatever feels right.” She added.

“Right.” Nod, snuggling closer to her, laying my head on her shoulder. She yawned, letting me know it was getting late.

A silent while later, I lift my head to see a passed out Billie. After turning my tv and lamp off, I lay my head on my pillow, facing her. She peacefully slept with her mouth slightly open and a furrow on her brows so soft, you could only tell if you looked close enough. I smooth it out with my thumb gently, watching her lick her lips and grunt. Her body turned towards me, our chests parallel to each other. She sloppily threw her arm over me, her fingertips resting on my lower back, which my oversized t-shirt had left exposed. I pulled the bottom hem, attempting to cover up, even though it didn’t matter anyway.

The last thing I saw before shutting my eyes and drifting off, was Billie’s face. She always made soft angry or worried faces in her sleep. I had so many pictures on my camera roll of her funny faces during naps. I smiled thinking about the party tomorrow, and how I get Billie for the rest of the weekend.

I took a mental screenshot of my view and dozed off.

[winchesterwild78]

The Art of Not Saying "I Love You" pt 4

Master List

Characters: Soldier Boy, Ben x Reader, other characters from The Boys

Warnings: some angst, lots of fluff, Ben the ol softy 

A/N: I’ve loved writing this story. Ben always gets a bad rap because of his personality, but I see right through it. He was hurt and betrayed by his father and then the woman he loved. He was tortured for over 40 years, I don’t know about you but I’d be a little pissed too. I love writing soft Ben, because I have a feeling if the right woman came along she could break down those walls, brick by brick. I can see him falling in love and it scaring the hell out of him. 

I hope you’ve enjoyed this story. Thanks for reading it. 

I do not own the rights to the characters in this story. This does not follow The Boys timeline, and is a work of fiction.

All work is my own, please don’t take it or use it without permission. Reblogs and Likes are always welcome.

Written and edited fast, please overlook any errors. 

Minors DNI 18+

Annie looked at me stunned. “You’re what?!” Tears pricked my eyes, “I’m pregnant. Oh Annie, what am I going to do?” 

She pulled me close and wrapped her arms around me. “We will figure it out.” 

I swallowed hard as a lump formed. I knew the baby was Ben’s. Tom always wore a condom and never finished inside me. He always pulled out and finished in the condom. Ben however, was proud of the fact he came inside me. 

I placed a hand on my stomach. I couldn’t believe this was my life. So utterly alone, heartbroken and pregnant. 

I felt the bile rise up in my throat and I ran to the bathroom, emptying the contents of my stomach. 

When I finished I cleaned myself up, brushed my teeth and went back into the living room. 

Annie was texting and my heart sank. “Annie, please don’t say anything to anyone. Even Huey. I don’t want Ben to know.” 

“Oh sweetie, it’s not my place to tell anyone. I was just letting Huey know I was staying the night with you. Y/N, I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I think you should tell Ben. If this is his baby don’t you think he should know. Even if you two aren’t together, don’t you want your baby to have both their parents in their life?” 

“I don’t know what to do, Annie. Can I really raise a baby on my own, do I want to? I was in love with Ben. Hell, I still am. If things were different I’d be over the moon to have a baby with the man I love, but he has made it clear he can’t or won’t have a relationship with me. I can’t risk him hurting this child. If I keep the baby, they will only know they are loved and wanted. I don’t want them growing up thinking they weren’t good enough to be loved by their father.” 

She touched my arm, “Well, whatever you decide I’ll be there with you. This baby will always be loved and taken care of. Right now let’s focus on getting you something to eat and relaxing.” 

I nodded and she pulled me in tightly for a hug. 

“I don’t have much here for food.” “It’s okay. I’ll run to the store since you’re not feeling well and grab some stuff. You stay here and rest.”

I nodded, she hugged me and left. I thought about what she said about Butcher. 

I took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in my throat and hovered over his contact information in my phone. 

I pushed it and bit my lip. One ring and he picked up. 

“Oi, love! Are you okay? Where are you?” 

My voice was soft, “Hey B. I’m okay. I’m so sorry I cut you out. I’ve been dealing with everything. I just needed to get away and clear my head.” 

“I understand, love. Are you coming home?” 

“No, I have a place now. I’m so sorry B.” Then I heard Ben in the background. “Butcher get the fuck off the phone. We have work to do.” 

I gasped at the sound of his voice. It sent a shiver down my spine. My breath hitched. 

“Shut it you fucking cunt. I’m talking to Y/N.” 

“What?! How is she, where is she? Let me talk to her.” 

“No, Butcher. I don’t want to talk to him. Please.” 

“No. She doesn’t want to talk to you.” 

I felt sick. My heart pounded in my chest. Part of me screamed out for him and another part wanted to keep him away. I was so torn. 

“Hey, Butcher. You sound busy. I promise to keep in touch. I love you, B.” 

“Okay, I love you too, Y/N.” 

We hung up and the tears fell. I sat my phone down and it rang almost immediately. 

I looked at the screen and it was Ben. I sat staring at his name. The call ended and he called right back. He was relentless. 

Finally I answered, “Hello, Ben.” 

“Oh my god, Y/N! Thank god you answered. Are you okay? Where are you?” 

“I’m okay Ben. I’m not going to tell you where I am. I need to protect myself from you.” 

He gasped softly, “Please don’t say that, baby. I would never hurt you.” 

I scoffed, “But you did, Ben. You made me fall in love with you and then you pushed me away. How could you do that?” A sob left my lips.

Ben ran his fingers through his hair, “Baby, I didn’t mean to hurt you. You’re everything to me.” “No, Ben. I’m not. If I was you wouldn’t have slept with another woman the day after we made love all weekend.”

He sighed heavily. “Ben, I need to tell you something. Before I do I need you to understand I don’t need anything or want anything from you.” 

“Okay, sweetheart. I understand.” Ben’s heart quickened and his mind began to race. 

“Ben, I went to the doctor for a physical and they ran some routine tests. The doctor called me today with the results.” I swallowed hard and took a deep shaky breath.

“It’s okay, Y/N. Is everything okay?” My voice quivered, “No Ben, but I will be. Ben, I’m pregnant.” 

Ben almost dropped his phone, “What? Is it mine or Tom’s?” “It’s yours. I’m positive. But I don’t want or need anything from you. I just wanted you to know. You have a right to know.” 

“Y/N, please tell me where you are. I want to be there with you.” “Ben, it’s too late. You made your choice and I’ve made mine. I’ll keep you updated on the baby, but I’m not expecting anything. I don’t want them to feel like they are unloved or unworthy.” 

“Don’t do that.” His voice dripped with venom. “Don’t do what? Tell the truth? Ben I know you used me. I was stupid enough to fall in love with you, stupid enough to believe I mattered and that you loved me too. But you’re not capable of loving anyone, are you?!”

“Stop! You do matter to me, dammit. I’m a fucking coward! Is that what you want to hear? I’m a fucking coward who finally let his walls down, made love to a beautiful woman, apparently made a baby with her and then I pushed her away. All because I’m too much of a fucking coward to admit…” His voice trailed off. 

I heard the pain in his voice and it sent a pang of guilt and sadness through my heart. “To admit what Ben?”

“Just forget it. You’ve made up your mind already, Y/N. I want to be in our baby’s life. They will know I’m their father and I’ll do whatever I can to protect them.”

“Ben.” My voice is soft and unsure. “Y/N.” “Please tell me what you were going to say. I need to hear it. Please.” My voice quivered and I felt the tears start to fall. 

Ben was quiet on the other end. He took a deep breath. “I um.. Shit, this is harder than being tortured for 40 years.” I chuckled softly, “Ben, please. You can trust me. I love you, Ben.” 

Just like that a switch flipped, “Y/N, I’m sorry. I’ve been a fucking pussy. I let everything Crimson and those Reds do to me cloud my judgement and build up walls. You broke through those walls without even trying. Now you’re having my baby. Y/N, I’m so sorry it took me this long to grow a pair. I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you.” 

My breath hitched and I smiled. There it was. Ben finally said it. Finally admitting what he had been pushing down deep. 

“I love you too, Ben. Now get your ass over here.” I gave him the address and he laughed, “Yes ma’am. I’m on my way.”

When Annie came back from the store I told her what happened and how Ben was coming over. She hugged me and told me she was glad he finally admitted he loved me. “I knew it this whole time. It was the only thing that made sense. He’s been terrified of giving his heart away again and having it crushed. I’m happy for your sweetie. I’m going to leave so you two can have some privacy. Let me know how it goes.” I nodded and gave her a hug. 

I sat on the couch and waited for Ben. My heart pounded in my chest. Every minute felt like an eternity. An hour had passed since the phone call. My heart began to ache. It doesn’t take an hour to get here from the apartment. Oh god, he did it again. I let myself believe him.

As the familiar ache started to fill my heart the sound of the doorbell pulled me from my thoughts. 

I took a deep breath and opened the door. Standing there was Ben. Looking as amazing as ever. In his hands was a bouquet of my favorite flowers, a bag filled with my favorite snacks and another bag. 

I chuckled when I saw it. His green eyes met mine, “Sorry I’m late sweetheart. I had to make a stop.” 

He walked in, sat the stuff down and I leaped in his arms. He pulled me flush to his chest and kissed me. The kiss was gentle at first but then it deepened. The pain and sorrow from the past two months melted away with every swipe of our tongues, every brush of his fingertips. 

When we pulled away from each other our chests were heaving for air. Ben’s hands cupped my face, “God you’re so beautiful, and you’re having my baby.” I smiled and leaned into his touch, “Yeah, we’re having a baby, Ben.” 

He placed his hands gently on my stomach, “Hey baby. It’s your dad. You’re going to come out and kick ass.” I playfully slapped his arm, “Ben, language.” He smirked, “Sorry, but he will.” “Oh so it’s a he?” 

Ben just looked at me, “I like to think so. He’s going to grow up loved, strong and I’ll always be so fucking proud of him.” 

I saw tears prick Ben’s eyes. I placed my hands on his chest, “Ben, you’re going to be an amazing father. You just have to let us in. Don’t push us away and always remember there is nothing you could ever do that will make us not love you. Hell, even after you slept with that woman I was still in love with you.” 

I stepped closer to Ben, “I still love you, Ben. So much. This baby, our baby is going to be loved and grow up strong like you are. You’re worthy of love and so much more.”

Ben pulled me close to his chest and held me tight. “How did I get so lucky to have your love? I’m sorry I pushed you away. I’m sorry I made you ever feel unloved and unwanted.” The tears that had pricked his eyes were starting to fall. 

I’d never seen him cry and my heart ached. I reached up and wiped his tears away with my thumbs. “Ben, you’re here now and that’s what matters. Don’t ever do that again or we (I placed my hand on my stomach) will kick your ass.” 

He chuckled, “I wouldn’t think of it. This, us, our baby, is all I’ll ever need. I made not saying I love you an art, but with you I never want to miss the chance to say it again. “I love you, Y/N. Now and forever.” “I love you too, Ben. Now and forever.”

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[indieyuugure]

Hiii! Im doing a essay about ROTTMNT and TMNT do you have any ideas whatt ill do?

lol 😂 oh dear this seems a tad urgent.

Hm, well personally I would consider covering the both positive and accurate homeschooler representation in TMNT. It’s often overlooked but is really actually incredibly good and a deeper topic than maybe like art style.

A lot of media paints homeschoolers extremely inaccurately and often negatively. I can’t tell you how many times the “homeschooled” character’s in media are 2D friendless plain toast people with personalities that are literally just that they don’t go to school and it’s so incredibly insulting! But TMNT doesn’t do this!

I’ll tell you, as a homeschooler myself and having met NUMEROUS others, homeschoolers are wild, they’re full of personality and big dreams, often they have no interest in attending “normal school” and are usually better educated, they’re best friends with their siblings and very close with their parents, and actually tend to have more meaningful and lasting friendships than other kids.

All of these things is the TMNT is and it makes me so happy to have good representation that’s not loud and preaching but just subtly there because THAT’S HOW IT IS.

There are exceptions to everything I just listed—I can think of one person for just about every exception—but TMNT does a fantastic job of explaining in a lowkey way that homeschoolers aren’t aliens from another planet, they’re kids just like everyone else.

So anyway 😅 now that I’ve written my own rant, hopefully you’ll find that useful at all.

Other good topics could be the franchise’s themes of acceptance and learning to see beyond an outer appearance which as a show targeted towards children is a very good thing to learn (seriously children are the judgiest little things).

Another could be the franchise’s history from gritty young adult comics to colorful children’s cartoons.

You could also do something with the shows portrayal of positive familial relationships since most television often depicts siblings as annoying irritants and parents as unfeeling dictators, and while those are aspects of family life, they never show the positive things like unconditional love, and loyalty and understanding and very deep togetherness.

Hopefully any of this is useful, I’d recommend maybe asking a few other people for ideas (if you haven’t already) so you can get a wider selection of view points and of course more ideas 👍

[mutifandomkid]

Ghost Among Men

Part two

Pairings: Buckyxcontractkiller!reader

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of cannabilism/human trafficking (Small sentences, no detail), thats about it??

Word Count: 2.6k

Not proofread, mistakes are mine.

********

It had been a few weeks since you and Bucky had last spoken, much less seen each other. He still scowled at the incident that he shared with you and Steve in the alley way. Bcuky had now found himself in the communal lounge room, sitting on the couch and listening to music from the 40s, his head tilted back, his eyes closed, muscles relaxed as he let himself sink into the cushions.

It had been a long day, he had gotten back from a tiring mission this morning, immediately followed by a debriefing, and then followed by three hours worth of training, and then followed by one of his therapy sessions. This was the first time he’d gotten to relax, to settle down and listen-

A loud squeal tore through the air, followed by laughter. Bucky opened his eyes to see you and Steve walking in, ice cream in hand. Steve’s hand had shot out to snatch some of your cherry jubilee, despite the full cup of chocolate ice cream he had. Bucky eyed them, not saying a word.

“Steve, stop it, you have your own!” You laughed, turning away to eat your ice cream in peace.

“But yours is so good! C’mon Y/n, one more bite, please?” Steve begged playfully, causing you to laugh again as he advanced on you.

“No! You already ate half of mine, eat your own!” You squealed again as Steve’s hand shot out to snag another spoonful, and this time you were too late to dodge it.

Bucky grumbled in annoyance as he watched you two. ‘Not dating my ass.’ He thought to himself. The way you two shamelessly flirted with each other, and right in front of everyone else, well him, there was no way there wasn’t some inkling of interest. Bucky rolled his eyes and turned up the volume in his headphones.

He closed his eyes, leaning his head back onto the couch once more, only for his eyes to shoot back open when Steve plopped down next to him, holding out the chocolate ice cream. “Gotcha some, Buck.” Steve smiled innocently. Bucky rolled his eyes, grumbling as he turned down his music and took the ice cream, mumbling a quick “Thanks.”

Steve turned his attention back to you as you sat on the opposite couch on the other side of the coffee table, your ice cream finished and deposited. “Tony tell you who your partner is going to be for this next mission?” Steve questioned, leaning back and spreading his arms across the back on the couch, one arm outstretched on one side and the other outstretched behind Bucky as he ate his ice cream, one earbud hanging down.

You took a deep breath, “Nope, he hasn’t told me a word, just said I’d have a new mission partner so I wouldn’t be on solos anymore. Fury’s orders apparently.” You answered, shrugging as you glanced over at Bucky.

The former Winter Soldier was silent, eating the chocolate ice cream silently, obviously listening in, but trying to be subtle about it. ‘Maybe he’s not so much of an ass?’ You found yourself thinking, ‘Maybe he’s just the quiet type.’

“Odd for them not to tell you.” Steve mused. “When do you ship out?”

“Supposedly later tonight, but that depends on if everything goes to plan beforehand.” You answered, flopping back on the couch and crossing your legs. Bucky’s eyes didn’t miss the curve of your body as you did so.

“They tell you how deadly it’s supposed to be?” Steve asked.

“Mock four, apparently.” You answered. “I mean, they gave me all of the details except for who my partner is. I just don’t get it. I mean does my partner know anything about this? Do they leave at the same time I do? How do I know they’re not a threat?”

“Those are some good points.” Steve mused, propping his legs up on the coffee table.

Bucky finished the ice cream, and leaned back on the couch, his muscles still tense, and his earbud still dangling down as he listened in on the conversation.

“I don’t know. I mean what if this person was a former HYDRA agent you know? I mean I don’t want to deal with that.” You said, propping your arms underneath your head.

Bucky’s eyes followed down your throat to your toes, then shot back up to your face. “I thought they had all of the HYDRA agents arrested after SHIELD fell?”

“They supposedly did.” You answered.

“No one really knows for sure, Buck.” Steve quipped.

“Anyway, suppose since I’m leaving tonight, I should start packing. See ya guys.” You said, getting off the couch and walking down one of the halls.

Bucky had been called into Tony’s office an hour later, the billionaire informing him of his next mission.

“You leave tonight with your partner, simple infiltration. You are to cover your partner’s six, don’t get her killed.” Tony said, shoving a file towards Bucky.

“There’s no way in hell I am going on a mission with her.” Bucky said, pushing the file back at Tony.

“Listen Marichuan Candidate, regardless whether you like her or not, we need you to cover her six. This is a mock four mission, and I’d rather not send her in alone.” Tony explained, shoving the file back at Bucky.

“What about Steve? Those two are peas and carrots.” Bucky said, again shoving the file back.

“Not qualified.” Tony quipped, shoving it back and keeping his hand on it.

“Natasha?” Bucky said, eying the file with disgust.

“Covering her own operations.” Tony said, sighing and rubbing his temple. “Will you just take it? Look Buckaroo, just make sure she gets in and out alive, and then you can go back to hating the angel of death, alright?”

“Since when do we work with contract killers?” Bucky asked sarcastically.

“Since she spared your ass and got beat for going against orders.” Tony snapped. “Now take the damn file, Barnes.”

Bucky froze, staring at the man before him in a quiet shock. Steve had said you were trained to kill him, but now Tony is saying that you spared him? Just exactly how much did you know about the Winter Soldier?

“Spared me?” Bucky asked quietly.

Tony removed his hand from the file, going back to typing on his computer. “Yes, she spared you. Take the file and get out, icebreaker.”

Bucky licked his lips and leaned forward, grabbing the file without another word. He quickly scanned over the pages, seeing the four targets, the information needed, and the location of the threats.

After looking over the file and memorizing what he needed, he got up and left Tony’s office and made his way to his private quarters, packing a bag for the mission.

You and Steve were saying your goodbye outside of the quinjet, and that’s when you saw your partner, you immediately turned your back. “There’s no way.” Your eyes flickered over to Steve. “Tell me you knew about this?”

“I didn’t.” Steve said, his hushed voice matching yours. .

“He hates me Steve, he’ll probably kill me before the jet even lands.” You protested through gritted teeth.

“Just relax, alright? He’s a grump, he’s old.” Steve began.

“You’re old and you’re not a grump.” You interjected.

Steve shot you a look that told you to be polite and keep quiet. “Bucky has been through a different experience than I have, you know that.” Steve cupped your cheek with his hand, caressing the soft skin there for a moment. “Just be that happy girl you always are,” He said gently, giving you a soft smile and dropping his hand. “He’ll come around eventually. Tony did.”

“Tony’s different and you know it.” I whispered back, making Steve chuckle.

“Get on the jet, smartass.” He quipped, playfully shoving you towards the jet, in which you laughed.

“Asshole!” You said getting onto the jet.

“Language!” Steve chuckled, just as Bucky was approaching him.

“Punk,” Bucky said, the tiniest of smiles on his face. “You set this up didn’t you?”

Steve laughed. “You and her are exactly the same.”

“Don’t evade my question Steve.” Bucky said, the small smile dropping immediately.

“Okay, so maybe I was looking at what skill sets would be good for the mission when Tony asked.” Steve admitted, smiling.

“Oh, you really are a punk,” Bucky grumbled underneath his breath.

“And you’re a jerk,” Steve shot back, still smiling. “Now get on the jet before I throw you in there.”

“Yeah, I’d like to see you try Rodgers.” Bucky grumbled, walking into the jet.

You were already in the cockpit, powering up the jet, the engines roaring to life. Bucky watched as you waved goodbye to Steve from the cockpit.

“You sitting down, soldier?” You called from the cockpit, putting on the headset.

“Yeah, yeah.” Bucky grumbled, taking a set in the cockpit next to you. He watched as you flipped a few controls on the console, the jet lifting off the ground and taking off.

“So what’s your plan?” Bucky found himself asking after about 10 minutes of silence.

“Well, what were you debriefed on?” You asked, looking at the coordinates on the screen.

“Four targets, I’m covering your six.” Bucky replied.

“Then you have your plan.” You answered, flipping on the autopilot and getting up from the cockpit chair.

“So you don’t have a plan?” Bucky asked, concern and alarm flashing in his eyes as he stood up and followed you through the flight deck.

You were already going through the files of your targets in the back of the jet. “Uh, yeah sure if that’s what you want to call it.” You answered, not really paying attention to his question.

“This is why Steve is a better companion for you.” Bucky quipped. “At least Steve has a plan.”

You didn’t give in to his bait, not much anyway. “Listen pookiebear, your job is to cover my six, and make sure I don’t die. My job is to infiltrate, eliminate, extract, and then exfiltrate. Understood?” Your voice was clipped, professional as you looked over the files.

Bucky bristled at the name, physically recoiling as if struck. “You did not just call me pookiebear.”

“No, I'm pretty sure I did.” You answered, grabbing specific papers from the files and setting them to the side.

“I have a name.” Bucky sneered.

“I know.” You answered, eyes scanning over more papers and then turning, and attempting to walk across the deck. Bucky stood in your way, arms crossed over his broad chest, staring down at you with a disapproving look. Your eyes finally met his gaze.

“So use it.” He snapped.

“Sergeant James Buchanon Barnes, 107th infantry regiment.” You said, glancing back down at your documents and side stepping him. “Served in WWII, was captured by Hydra in 1943 and experimented on until you broke give or take twenty years later, and became their precious little Winter Soldier.”

“Alright!” Bucky snapped, snatching your arm and pulling you away from the files. “Listen little miss smartass, I’m not going to put up with your attitude, so either fix it or this is going to be one hell of a mission.”

You tilted your head, quirking a brow and eyeing him. His eyes blazed with fury, a silent warning to say your next words with caution.

“Is that a threat, Mr. Barnes?” You asked, sounding bored.

Bucky groaned and let you go, taking a step back. He was tense, obviously distressed. “You’re insufferable.” He grumbled.

“You’ll get used to it.” You murmured, turning back to the files. “We’ll enter through the front door, it's a public event. Only one of the four targets is to be eliminated.” You said, softening your voice. “Once we get the information we need from the other three, we’ll go after him.” You handed Bucky a file of the main target. “I plan on taking him to one of the backrooms, was hoping maybe you could make sure we’re not followed back there.”

Bucky hummed as he looked over the file, his eyes skimming the profile of the man. “You’re going to take this guy to one of the back rooms? Where exactly are we going?”

You handed him a blueprint of a large mansion. “Mr. Zinc has a gorgeous mansion, don’t you agree, Buck?”

“Don’t call me that.” Bucky said as he took the blueprints and started looking them over.

“It’s either Buck, or pookiebear, take your pick.” You shrugged.

Bucky rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything. “What’s so special about this Zinc guy anyway?”

“Human trafficking, but not in the way you’re thinking.” You answered. “That’s his money maker anyway, he also does drugs and weapons on the side.”

“What way then?” Bucky said.

“Cannibalism.”

“Fucking psycho.”

You snapped your fingers and did a little finger gun at him while you typed away on a computer with your other hand. “Alright, we’re on the guest list.” You said, “They ask who you are, you’re Dean Smith, and I’m your wife, Katy Smith.”

Bucky scoffed. “No way in hell did you say we’re married.”

“Couples only invitations, big guy. Hope you’re good at acting.” You said, going back to the files and handing him another sheet of paper. “Mr. Zinc apparently has this on his person, hence our extraction. My informant has said it’s lodged into his flesh, so it won’t be easily accessed.”

“Your informant?” Bucky asked, looking over the paper, a small description of a tube that's placed via tube into the bloodstream. “How exactly are we supposed to find this thing if it's in his flesh?”

“I have a lot of contacts, Mr. Barnes.” You said, putting the papers back into their respective files. “As for extracting things out of flesh, well that happens to be one of my specialities, so it's not something you’ll have to worry about.”

“I don’t even want to know what that means.” Bucky muttered.

“Probably best if you don’t.” You said, and began to walk back to the cockpit of the jet. Bucky following you.

“I take it this isn’t the first time you’ve run into these guys?” He asked.

“Nope, can guarantee you it won’t be the last either. I’ve been tracking these guys for years, Mr. Zinc is only one of the bad guys here. His associates are far worse than he is.” You answered, checking the time on the screen in the cockpit from the estimated time of your arrival.

“And his associates will be there?” Bucky asked.

“Not even close, they never risk all being at one place at the same time.” You answered, typing into the command code of the cockpit. “You should get some sleep Buck, we have about twelve hours till we get there.”

“Fat chance.” Bucky answered. “You go on ahead, I’ll stay up.”

You glanced at him before shrugging, not pushing the issue, and walking to the deck of the jet once again, flipping out one of the benches and laying down on it, closing your eyes moments later, your arms crossed, and your body relaxed.

Bucky watched you, leaning against the doorway of the cockpit with his own arms crossed. You were so confusing, one moment you're professional, and almost rude, and the next minute you're kind and understanding. He shook his head, trying to figure you out would be like trying to understand quantum physics.

He waited until he heard your breath evening out before he went to the opposite side of the deck, flipped out a bench, and laid down himself. You were right, he might as well conserve his energy since they have a twelve hour wait.

*************

Tags:

@greatenthusiattidalwave @sebbymybaby21 @vicmc624 @cinnamon-bun47 @capswife @440mxs-wife @supersoldiers1xt @missvelvetsstuff @bonnyclydecat @marajade1974 @caity1995 @buckitostan @httpswilloww @cjand10

[rouge-fauna]

I’m sorry I swear I was planning on moving on but then I had a conversation with my friend last night and now I’m triggered again… I don’t mind if people disagree but damn it was really frustrating, for a few reasons, one of them being that even if I’m biased I still think I’m a better source of information and opinion after having watched 12 hours of streams versus some reaction channel videos. Like sure I like Dream and relate to both c and ccDream but I’m not heartless or unreasonable. I’m not saying, ‘oh my poor autistic dweam can do no wrong.’ I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I’m here for the facts and truth and what it says and what is reasonable based on that. I’ve dropped plenty of other YouTubers for doing messed up things, and Dream would be no different if he actually did cross a serious line. But honestly I don’t think he’s really done worse than plenty of other creators and at least he has apologized which is more than you can say for most others. So by all mean hate him for whatever reason, there are plenty of YouTubers I dislike, but don’t do so because you think he’s a creep or because of things that just aren’t true, and give me a little more credit that I’d not just support anyone or use autism to justify anything.

The reason I’ve talked a lot about the autism and ADHD is because I feel like it is very important. But my friend (who is also autistic), last night was giving me a lot of shit for it, noting how autism doesn’t excuse behavior and is beside the point. The thing is though, this situation is not like how people are saying Elon doing the salute is an autistic oopsie, no I’m literally just pointing out actual statements and points the content creators have said about why they dislike Dream, which are literally characteristics of his neurodivergence. Look no further for an example than what Jack says in the podcast, “I genuinely think he lacks the ability to read social queues.” That’s literally just autism 101, I’m not making excuses for behavior, I’m just pointing out the why a behavior is happening to say it’s not because he’s some evil bad manipulative guy. Tubbo is the one who noted that Dream’s behavior was weird and inappropriate and how he didn’t seem to understand the social rules and stuff. Those are actually things that have been talked about here. People have actually commented on how Dream’s over explanation and stuttering and repeating himself and such is manipulative and all I’m saying is no it’s literally just AuDHD. I’m not making stretches for behavior here, I’m not extrapolating here on what Dream did, if anything I’m focused more on the actual comments of the opposing side.

Autism isn’t relevant to the situation because of the meme. It’s no longer about whether or not he is allowed to use the r word because he is autistic, it’s about this inherent loathing people have where a lot of their listed reasons are typical ADHD and autism characteristics. All I’m doing is looking at what they themselves said, I don’t even have to theorize, Jack straight up just said he thinks Dream lacks social queues as part of his discussion on why he dislikes Dream. What do you mean his neurodivergence isn’t relevant, when the reasons people are currently bashing him are neurodivergent traits. That’s like saying, well her blue hair is irrelevant to the conversation - well then why do you hate her? - because I don’t like how she always dyes her hair. Heh? It is relevant because the things the hate him for connect directly to autism and ADHD, it is relevant because the internet is making fun of him after that stream with Tubbo for how he speaks because of his neurodivergence. It’s relevant because the reason people believe these rumors or spread rumors in the first place is because of the inherent dislike of autistic people they are literally describing on air.

[bearforcecaptions]

The lights flickered again.

They always did when someone new arrived. That soft, pulsing glow that ran through the walls, like the place itself was exhaling in anticipation. I leaned against the squat rack, waiting. I didn’t know how long I’d been here—days, weeks, years? It didn’t matter anymore. All I knew was that when the lights pulsed like that, someone else was about to walk through those doors, confused and scared, their life about to be rewritten.

This time, the man who stumbled in couldn’t have been more out of place. Middle-aged, thin, with the kind of stooped posture that came from decades of working hunched over desks or shelves. He was wearing a gray cardigan over a button-down shirt, neatly pressed khakis, and polished loafers that echoed slightly on the gym’s smooth floors. He carried a leather satchel in one hand, clutching it like a lifeline, his wide eyes darting across the mirrored walls and rows of gleaming equipment. He looked like he should have been walking into a library or an academic conference, not… here.

“What on earth?” he muttered, his voice low, trembling. He stood frozen for a moment, taking in the scene—the endless rows of dumbbells and machines, the clinking of weights as the other men in the gym worked through their routines, completely oblivious to his arrival. The mirrors reflected his thin, nervous frame a thousand times over, distorting him until he seemed swallowed up by the space.

I pushed off the rack and crossed my arms, watching him. It was always the same—panic first, then denial, and finally, acceptance. But everyone fought it differently.

“Hey,” I said, keeping my tone casual. “You lost?”

He spun around, startled, his satchel swinging slightly. He was older than most of the people who showed up here—maybe mid-forties, with thinning brown hair streaked with gray at the temples. He wore wire-rimmed glasses that made his pale blue eyes seem even more anxious. His face was lined, but not unpleasant, though it had that soft, academic quality that suggested he’d spent more time reading than living.

“I… yes, I think so,” he said, his voice shaky. “I was just leaving work, and I—” He paused, frowning. “This isn’t right. Where am I?”

“You’re in the gym,” I said simply, gesturing around us. “You didn’t mean to end up here, did you?”

“No, I…” He trailed off, looking around again. “I was leaving the library, locking up for the night. I stepped out the back door, and then… I was here.” His fingers tightened around the strap of his satchel. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“It never does,” I said. “But you might as well put that bag down. You’re not going anywhere.”

He frowned, clearly not understanding. “What do you mean, ‘not going anywhere’? There’s always a way out.”

“Not here,” I said, leaning back against the rack again. “Every door leads back to the gym. You can try them all if you want, but it won’t make a difference.”

His mouth opened to argue, but he stopped himself, looking at me like he thought I might be messing with him. I didn’t bother explaining further. It was always easier to let them figure it out for themselves.

He did. For hours, or maybe it was minutes—it was hard to tell. He tried every door, every hallway, every nook and cranny of the gym, even peering behind some of the machines like there might be a hidden escape route. Each time, he ended up right back where he started. I watched him, arms crossed, waiting for the inevitable moment when he’d realize there was nothing else to do.

Eventually, he slumped down on a nearby bench, his satchel abandoned on the floor. His cardigan was hanging off one shoulder now, his button-down damp with sweat from all the pacing. He looked defeated, his glasses slipping down his nose.

“I don’t understand,” he said, mostly to himself. “This is impossible.”

“It’s not about understanding,” I said, walking over. “It’s about accepting. There’s nothing to do here except work out. Sooner or later, you’ll start.”

He gave me a sharp look, like I’d insulted him. “I don’t belong here,” he said, his voice firming slightly. “I’m a librarian. I haven’t set foot in a gym in years.”

I shrugged. “You’re here now. And there’s nothing else to do. So unless you want to sit and stare at the walls forever…”

He didn’t answer, just looked down at his hands, his thin fingers twitching slightly. After a long pause, he stood up, walking over to one of the machines with a hesitant, almost resigned air. He stared at it like it was some alien contraption, his head tilted slightly. Then, cautiously, he sat down and gripped the handles.

The first push was awkward, his arms trembling as he tried to move the weight. He was clearly out of his element, his movements shaky and uncoordinated. But he kept at it, his jaw tightening with determination. He didn’t look at me again, too focused on the machine.

The changes started slowly. At first, it was just his posture—his shoulders squared as he worked through his reps, the slump in his back disappearing. His movements became smoother, more confident, as though his body was remembering something it had never known. His arms, once thin and weak, began to fill out, the first hints of muscle appearing beneath his pale skin.

His cardigan slipped off completely at some point, forgotten on the floor, and his button-down shirt started to cling to his torso, the fabric tightening as his chest began to expand. He frowned, tugging at it absently, but he didn’t stop. His khakis were next, the legs stretching taut against his thighs, which were visibly thickening with each push. By the time he moved on to the free weights, the khakis had morphed into gray Nike sweatpants, snug around his growing legs.

I watched as he grabbed a set of dumbbells, his hands gripping the metal with more confidence than before. His biceps swelled as he curled them, the veins in his forearms becoming more pronounced. His button-down had somehow transformed into a tight maroon T-shirt that clung to his chest and shoulders, the sleeves straining to contain his growing arms. The hem rode up slightly, revealing a set of abs that hadn’t been there an hour ago.

He paused mid-rep, frowning as he caught his reflection in the mirror. “Is it just me, or do I look… different?” he asked, glancing at me.

I smirked. “You’re changing. Everyone does.”

“What?” His voice wavered slightly, but he didn’t sound as panicked as I’d expected. He turned back to the mirror, his eyes narrowing as he examined himself. “I mean, I do look better, don’t I?”

“Sure,” I said. “But that’s not all that’s happening.”

He didn’t seem to hear me. He flexed his arm experimentally, a grin spreading across his face as he admired the way his bicep bulged. “I haven’t looked like this since college,” he said, his tone lighter, almost excited. “No, I’ve never looked like this.”

The lights flickered again.

They always did when someone new arrived. That soft, pulsing glow that ran through the walls, like the place itself was exhaling in anticipation. I leaned against the squat rack, waiting. I didn’t know how long I’d been here—days, weeks, years? It didn’t matter anymore. All I knew was that when the lights pulsed like that, someone else was about to walk through those doors, confused and scared, their life about to be rewritten.

This time, the man who stumbled in couldn’t have been more out of place. Middle-aged, thin, with the kind of stooped posture that came from decades of working hunched over desks or shelves. He was wearing a gray cardigan over a button-down shirt, neatly pressed khakis, and polished loafers that echoed slightly on the gym’s smooth floors. He carried a leather satchel in one hand, clutching it like a lifeline, his wide eyes darting across the mirrored walls and rows of gleaming equipment. He looked like he should have been walking into a library or an academic conference, not… here.

“What on earth?” he muttered, his voice low, trembling. He stood frozen for a moment, taking in the scene—the endless rows of dumbbells and machines, the clinking of weights as the other men in the gym worked through their routines, completely oblivious to his arrival. The mirrors reflected his thin, nervous frame a thousand times over, distorting him until he seemed swallowed up by the space.

I pushed off the rack and crossed my arms, watching him. It was always the same—panic first, then denial, and finally, acceptance. But everyone fought it differently.

“Hey,” I said, keeping my tone casual. “You lost?”

He spun around, startled, his satchel swinging slightly. He was older than most of the people who showed up here—maybe mid-forties, with thinning brown hair streaked with gray at the temples. He wore wire-rimmed glasses that made his pale blue eyes seem even more anxious. His face was lined, but not unpleasant, though it had that soft, academic quality that suggested he’d spent more time reading than living.

“I… yes, I think so,” he said, his voice shaky. “I was just leaving work, and I—” He paused, frowning. “This isn’t right. Where am I?”

“You’re in the gym,” I said simply, gesturing around us. “You didn’t mean to end up here, did you?”

“No, I…” He trailed off, looking around again. “I was leaving the library, locking up for the night. I stepped out the back door, and then… I was here.” His fingers tightened around the strap of his satchel. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“It never does,” I said. “But you might as well put that bag down. You’re not going anywhere.”

He frowned, clearly not understanding. “What do you mean, ‘not going anywhere’? There’s always a way out.”

“Not here,” I said, leaning back against the rack again. “Every door leads back to the gym. You can try them all if you want, but it won’t make a difference.”

His mouth opened to argue, but he stopped himself, looking at me like he thought I might be messing with him. I didn’t bother explaining further. It was always easier to let them figure it out for themselves.

He did. For hours, or maybe it was minutes—it was hard to tell. He tried every door, every hallway, every nook and cranny of the gym, even peering behind some of the machines like there might be a hidden escape route. Each time, he ended up right back where he started. I watched him, arms crossed, waiting for the inevitable moment when he’d realize there was nothing else to do.

Eventually, he slumped down on a nearby bench, his satchel abandoned on the floor. His cardigan was hanging off one shoulder now, his button-down damp with sweat from all the pacing. He looked defeated, his glasses slipping down his nose.

“I don’t understand,” he said, mostly to himself. “This is impossible.”

“It’s not about understanding,” I said, walking over. “It’s about accepting. There’s nothing to do here except work out. Sooner or later, you’ll start.”

He gave me a sharp look, like I’d insulted him. “I don’t belong here,” he said, his voice firming slightly. “I’m a librarian. I haven’t set foot in a gym in years.”

I shrugged. “You’re here now. And there’s nothing else to do. So unless you want to sit and stare at the walls forever…”

He didn’t answer, just looked down at his hands, his thin fingers twitching slightly. After a long pause, he stood up, walking over to one of the machines with a hesitant, almost resigned air. He stared at it like it was some alien contraption, his head tilted slightly. Then, cautiously, he sat down and gripped the handles.

The first push was awkward, his arms trembling as he tried to move the weight. He was clearly out of his element, his movements shaky and uncoordinated. But he kept at it, his jaw tightening with determination. He didn’t look at me again, too focused on the machine.

The changes started slowly. At first, it was just his posture—his shoulders squared as he worked through his reps, the slump in his back disappearing. His movements became smoother, more confident, as though his body was remembering something it had never known. His arms, once thin and weak, began to fill out, the first hints of muscle appearing beneath his pale skin.

His cardigan slipped off completely at some point, forgotten on the floor, and his button-down shirt started to cling to his torso, the fabric tightening as his chest began to expand. He frowned, tugging at it absently, but he didn’t stop. His khakis were next, the legs stretching taut against his thighs, which were visibly thickening with each push. By the time he moved on to the free weights, the khakis had morphed into gray Nike sweatpants, snug around his growing legs.

I watched as he grabbed a set of dumbbells, his hands gripping the metal with more confidence than before. His biceps swelled as he curled them, the veins in his forearms becoming more pronounced. His button-down had somehow transformed into a tight maroon T-shirt that clung to his chest and shoulders, the sleeves straining to contain his growing arms. The hem rode up slightly, revealing a set of abs that hadn’t been there an hour ago.

He paused mid-rep, frowning as he caught his reflection in the mirror. “Is it just me, or do I look… different?” he asked, glancing at me.

I smirked. “You’re changing. Everyone does.”

“What?” His voice wavered slightly, but he didn’t sound as panicked as I’d expected. He turned back to the mirror, his eyes narrowing as he examined himself. “I mean, I do look better, don’t I?”

“Sure,” I said. “But that’s not all that’s happening.”

He didn’t seem to hear me. He flexed his arm experimentally, a grin spreading across his face as he admired the way his bicep bulged. “I haven’t looked like this since college,” he said, his tone lighter, almost excited. “No, I’ve never looked like this.”

The lights flickered again.

They always did when someone new arrived. That soft, pulsing glow that ran through the walls, like the place itself was exhaling in anticipation. I leaned against the squat rack, waiting. I didn’t know how long I’d been here—days, weeks, years? It didn’t matter anymore. All I knew was that when the lights pulsed like that, someone else was about to walk through those doors, confused and scared, their life about to be rewritten.

This time, the man who stumbled in couldn’t have been more out of place. Middle-aged, thin, with the kind of stooped posture that came from decades of working hunched over desks or shelves. He was wearing a gray cardigan over a button-down shirt, neatly pressed khakis, and polished loafers that echoed slightly on the gym’s smooth floors. He carried a leather satchel in one hand, clutching it like a lifeline, his wide eyes darting across the mirrored walls and rows of gleaming equipment. He looked like he should have been walking into a library or an academic conference, not… here.

“What on earth?” he muttered, his voice low, trembling. He stood frozen for a moment, taking in the scene—the endless rows of dumbbells and machines, the clinking of weights as the other men in the gym worked through their routines, completely oblivious to his arrival. The mirrors reflected his thin, nervous frame a thousand times over, distorting him until he seemed swallowed up by the space.

I pushed off the rack and crossed my arms, watching him. It was always the same—panic first, then denial, and finally, acceptance. But everyone fought it differently.

“Hey,” I said, keeping my tone casual. “You lost?”

He spun around, startled, his satchel swinging slightly. He was older than most of the people who showed up here—maybe mid-forties, with thinning brown hair streaked with gray at the temples. He wore wire-rimmed glasses that made his pale blue eyes seem even more anxious. His face was lined, but not unpleasant, though it had that soft, academic quality that suggested he’d spent more time reading than living.

“I… yes, I think so,” he said, his voice shaky. “I was just leaving work, and I—” He paused, frowning. “This isn’t right. Where am I?”

“You’re in the gym,” I said simply, gesturing around us. “You didn’t mean to end up here, did you?”

“No, I…” He trailed off, looking around again. “I was leaving the library, locking up for the night. I stepped out the back door, and then… I was here.” His fingers tightened around the strap of his satchel. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“It never does,” I said. “But you might as well put that bag down. You’re not going anywhere.”

He frowned, clearly not understanding. “What do you mean, ‘not going anywhere’? There’s always a way out.”

“Not here,” I said, leaning back against the rack again. “Every door leads back to the gym. You can try them all if you want, but it won’t make a difference.”

His mouth opened to argue, but he stopped himself, looking at me like he thought I might be messing with him. I didn’t bother explaining further. It was always easier to let them figure it out for themselves.

He did. For hours, or maybe it was minutes—it was hard to tell. He tried every door, every hallway, every nook and cranny of the gym, even peering behind some of the machines like there might be a hidden escape route. Each time, he ended up right back where he started. I watched him, arms crossed, waiting for the inevitable moment when he’d realize there was nothing else to do.

Eventually, he slumped down on a nearby bench, his satchel abandoned on the floor. His cardigan was hanging off one shoulder now, his button-down damp with sweat from all the pacing. He looked defeated, his glasses slipping down his nose.

“I don’t understand,” he said, mostly to himself. “This is impossible.”

“It’s not about understanding,” I said, walking over. “It’s about accepting. There’s nothing to do here except work out. Sooner or later, you’ll start.”

He gave me a sharp look, like I’d insulted him. “I don’t belong here,” he said, his voice firming slightly. “I’m a librarian. I haven’t set foot in a gym in years.”

I shrugged. “You’re here now. And there’s nothing else to do. So unless you want to sit and stare at the walls forever…”

He didn’t answer, just looked down at his hands, his thin fingers twitching slightly. After a long pause, he stood up, walking over to one of the machines with a hesitant, almost resigned air. He stared at it like it was some alien contraption, his head tilted slightly. Then, cautiously, he sat down and gripped the handles.

The first push was awkward, his arms trembling as he tried to move the weight. He was clearly out of his element, his movements shaky and uncoordinated. But he kept at it, his jaw tightening with determination. He didn’t look at me again, too focused on the machine.

The changes started slowly. At first, it was just his posture—his shoulders squared as he worked through his reps, the slump in his back disappearing. His movements became smoother, more confident, as though his body was remembering something it had never known. His arms, once thin and weak, began to fill out, the first hints of muscle appearing beneath his pale skin.

His cardigan slipped off completely at some point, forgotten on the floor, and his button-down shirt started to cling to his torso, the fabric tightening as his chest began to expand. He frowned, tugging at it absently, but he didn’t stop. His khakis were next, the legs stretching taut against his thighs, which were visibly thickening with each push. By the time he moved on to the free weights, the khakis had morphed into gray Nike sweatpants, snug around his growing legs.

I watched as he grabbed a set of dumbbells, his hands gripping the metal with more confidence than before. His biceps swelled as he curled them, the veins in his forearms becoming more pronounced. His button-down had somehow transformed into a tight maroon T-shirt that clung to his chest and shoulders, the sleeves straining to contain his growing arms. The hem rode up slightly, revealing a set of abs that hadn’t been there an hour ago.

He paused mid-rep, frowning as he caught his reflection in the mirror. “Is it just me, or do I look… different?” he asked, glancing at me.

I smirked. “You’re changing. Everyone does.”

“What?” His voice wavered slightly, but he didn’t sound as panicked as I’d expected. He turned back to the mirror, his eyes narrowing as he examined himself. “I mean, I do look better, don’t I?”

“Sure,” I said. “But that’s not all that’s happening.”

He didn’t seem to hear me. He flexed his arm experimentally, a grin spreading across his face as he admired the way his bicep bulged. “I haven’t looked like this since college,” he said, his tone lighter, almost excited. “No, I’ve never looked like this.”

I didn’t bother correcting him. The changes were already affecting his mind, his memories shifting to accommodate the new reality. It was subtle at first—almost unnoticeable. He still responded when I called him Richard, but there was hesitation, a faint flicker of confusion in his eyes, like the name didn’t sit right anymore.

By the time he moved on to another machine, the transformation was undeniable. His maroon T-shirt was no longer sitting properly—it had somehow ridden up, the hem tucked under itself and pulled halfway over his head. It clung to his neck and bunched around his upper arms like a makeshift cape, the fabric framing his now-sculpted chest and sharply defined abs. He didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he didn’t care. Instead, he focused entirely on the mirror, admiring the way the overhead lights highlighted every groove in his torso. His pecs looked impossibly firm, rising and falling with each slow, deliberate breath.

The silver chain had appeared around his neck at some point, its polished links catching the light with every slight movement. It sat just above his chest, glinting in the mirror like it had always belonged there. His sweatpants clung tightly to his thighs, emphasizing their powerful bulk, the fabric stretched taut over legs that had once been scrawny. The waistband sagged low on his hips, revealing the elastic band of Calvin Klein briefs. Even the brand seemed to match the newfound confidence radiating from him.

He caught me staring, pausing in front of the mirror with a cocky grin. “I look good, huh?” he said, flexing one arm and glancing between me and his reflection.

I frowned. “You’re changing, Richard. This isn’t—”

“Who’s Richard?” he interrupted, letting out a low, amused laugh. “Man, you’re weird.” He shook his head, turning his attention back to the mirror. His hand ran through his hair, which was now thicker, darker, and styled into soft spikes. His face had become smoother, younger, his jawline sharper. A shadow of stubble darkened his cheeks and chin, perfectly trimmed, as if he’d spent hours grooming it. But I knew better—it had just appeared.

“Richard is who you were,” I said firmly, stepping closer. “You don’t have to give in to this.”

He didn’t even glance at me this time. “Yeah, sure, whatever,” he said absently, adjusting the chain around his neck. His biceps bulged as he moved, the veins in his arms standing out against his tanned skin. “You’re kinda bringing down the vibe, bro.”

“Bro?” I repeated, incredulous. “You’re not—”

But he’d already moved on, grabbing a set of heavier dumbbells. I watched as he curled them, his movements slow and deliberate, his grin widening with each rep. His muscles swelled with every lift, as though the weights were sculpting him further, refining every detail of his physique. I could feel the gym working on him, reshaping not just his body but his mind.

I tried to get through to him again a little later, when he’d moved to the leg press. He was loading plates onto the machine with a kind of thoughtless ease, his movements mechanical but confident. “Richard,” I called, louder this time.

He glanced over his shoulder, frowning slightly. “What now, dude?”

“You don’t have to do this,” I said. “You can stop. You can fight it.”

“Fight what?” He laughed, shaking his head as he sat down and braced his legs against the machine. “You’re not making any sense, man. I’m just… doing my thing, you know?”

“This isn’t who you are!” I snapped, frustration boiling over. “You’re a librarian. You don’t belong here.”

He hesitated for just a second, his hands gripping the bars of the machine. Then he grinned, his teeth gleaming white. “Librarian? Nah, man. I’m not… I mean, that doesn’t sound right.” He pressed the weight, his quads flexing powerfully. “Besides, look at me. This is who I am. Always been, right?”

“No, it’s not!” I insisted, stepping closer. But he wasn’t listening anymore. His focus was entirely on the machine, on the weight, on the burn of his muscles. He grunted with effort, his sweatpants riding lower with each press, exposing more of the waistband of his underwear.

Our conversations grew shorter after that. Every time I tried to talk to him, he seemed more distracted, his attention entirely on his reflection or the next set of reps.

“Hey, Richard,” I said again one day—if it was even a day. Time blurred together here, and it felt like I was stuck in an endless loop. “Do you even remember where you came from?”

“Uh, sure,” he said without looking at me, his voice vague. He flexed in the mirror, adjusting the way his shirt hung around his neck. “Came from, like… somewhere, I guess. Doesn’t matter, does it?”

“It does matter!” I said sharply. “You’re forgetting yourself. Can’t you see that?”

“Dude,” he said, finally glancing my way, his tone exasperated. “I don’t get what your deal is. I feel great. I look great. Why would I care about… whatever boring stuff you’re on about?”

“That ‘boring stuff’ is who you are,” I said, but I could already tell he wasn’t paying attention. He was busy pulling his sweatpants lower, angling his body in front of the mirror to admire his abs. The smirk on his face made my stomach churn.

“Looking sick, right?” he said, gesturing at his reflection. He glanced at me like he expected me to agree, but when I didn’t, he just shrugged and turned away.

It didn’t take long after that for him to stop talking to me entirely. My attempts to reach him were met with vague grunts, or, more often, complete silence. He became just like the others—completely absorbed in his workouts, his reflection, the endless pursuit of perfection. He spent hours—if hours even existed here—lifting, flexing, adjusting his chain or his sweatpants. Occasionally, he’d let out a low, satisfied laugh as he admired his progress, but he never spoke to me again.

I watched him for a long time, that familiar mix of anger and helplessness twisting in my chest. The man who had walked into the gym—the librarian clutching his satchel and looking so out of place—was gone. In his place was another meathead, all muscles and vanity, his mind as sculpted and empty as his body was powerful. He didn’t even glance my way as he moved from one machine to the next, lost in the rhythm of his routine.

And I knew, eventually, the lights would flicker for him. But until then, he was just another mindless body in the gym, endlessly lifting, endlessly transforming.

[yuikomorii]

I love Yui she's such a nerd, honestly your blog is the whole reason I even like Yui now, I never disliked her but I never cared about her because she seemed kinda the basic " Nice girl " trope ( and I watched the anime first ) so I just ignored her but your blog put more light on her personality and now she is so much more interesting to me. I honestly wish we would get some more background info on her about her old life before the Sakamakis, we do kinda but not much.

When I thought Yui was a bland Nice Character only to realize she's a Clusmy, kinda slow, obsessive girl in love and somtimes just as crazy as the Sakamakis, like girrrl I've seen those Bad endings, Shuu More blood brute?? Ayato bad endings? Our true queen, say delulu in love Yui ❤️

// Haha, I’m glad to hear that. 💕💕

I don’t have anything against the “nice girl” trope, as long as it’s executed well and the girl has more depth than just being “too good for this world.” Yui might come across as your typical nice girl at first glance, but even outside the endings, she occasionally does or says things so unexpectedly problematic that you can’t help but wonder “What’s wrong with her?”. That said, she’s not meant to be a normal character, since this is a game made for people with masochistic fantasies, and we’re supposed to either play as her or put ourselves in her shoes. It’s pretty clear Yui has always had some underlying masochistic tendencies. After all, she started enjoying the bites during the Dark section of the HDB chapters, which isn’t exactly something a “normal” person would do… well, not so fast. 👀

Yui is a kind and stupid girl in general, but she can also be cunning and even worse than the Diaboys when mad, so that’s what makes her interesting. Honestly, I’m glad she’s crazy too, if she weren’t, I’d feel way too bad for her. At least this way, she shares some of the twisted traits of her men, which makes her dynamic with them feel more balanced. 😂😂

Speaking of those endings, every time I think about them, I get chills. I can understand the “I’ll get rid of everyone for senpai because he’s my precious senpai and mine alone!” type of Yandere you see in anime, but the ones who do something truly horrifying to the person they claim to love are on a whole other level of disturbing. At least in Shu’s one, she “only” stabs him and locks him in a dungeon to turn him into her one and only blood slave. But in Ayato’s ending? She literally paralyzes his entire body out of jealousy, leaving him unable to move or speak yet fully conscious of what’s happening, while she carries him around like an actual DOLL, and then she uses him for pleasure. It’s practically an allegory for reducing someone to a living sex doll—an object meant solely to look good and fulfill someone else’s desires, which is just next-level of messed up, lol.

Credit to: dialovers-translations

I even remember this screenshot from the Chinese edition where Yui says to a paralyzed Ayato, “Ayato, don’t go anywhere.” Girl, where was he even supposed to go?? You literally took away his ability to do anything. Even Karlheinz got creeped out! 😳

[clarisse0o]

The Mayor - Chapter 10

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe: Mayor and Architect

Words: 1000

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Sunday, 5 PM.

The sun had come back. Alessia had organized a barbecue with guests, including Alexia and her partner. It was an afternoon just the way I liked it—good vibes, friends, music, and rosé wine. Alessia was now playing guitar with Alexia, and we were all singing anything and everything around them.

My phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number. I stood up and stepped away from the group for some quiet.

"Hello?"

"Ona?"

I couldn’t place the voice.

"Yes, who’s this?"

"Well, you’ve forgotten me quickly! Lucy!"

Lucy…

"Ah! Completely forgotten, indeed! But who are you, Lucy?" I replied teasingly.

She laughed.

"Where are you, Ona?"

A strange question.

"Uh… at a barbecue!"

"In what area?"

What did she want from me?

"In the Minimes neighborhood!"

"Not far from my house! Do you have the keys on you?"

Less than 10 minutes away, indeed.

"Yes, in my car..."

She continued, her voice eager.

"Alright, Ona. I need a huge favor. I’m at the house, right in front. I don’t have the keys; I’m sure I left them in Brittany. I absolutely need to get in, I need to check something. Can you come? It won’t be long."

The pain in the neck. Calling me on a Sunday, questioning me, and demanding I come. She should have come herself!

"Don’t you want to come and...?"

She cut me off.

"I need you on-site! Not for long, Ona! I’m waiting for you!"

She hung up.

She was insufferable, thinking she could do whatever she wanted. I was furious inside. Who did she think she was? Don’t go. But my curiosity overtook my frustration. This conversation, her enthusiasm, had intrigued me. 

I went back to my friends.

"Alright, guys, the Dragon just called me. She’s at the house, stuck because she doesn’t have the keys. She asked, or rather, demanded I make the round trip. I’ll be back as soon as I can!"

"For who does she think she is?" Alessia said, giving me a dark look. "Don’t go! You’re not her servant! Enough."

She wasn’t wrong.

"I’ll do the round trip, I promise! She’s impossible, I know! I’ll be quick! Ciao!"

I decided to take Alessia’s bike. I’d had a drink, so it was safer. 25 minutes later, I found myself facing Lucy. She was stunning, wearing a coral dress, her skin bronzed from her week in Brittany. My eyes moved from her perfect neckline to her blue eyes. I wanted her so badly, I wanted to touch her, kiss those lips that were pulling me in. But I couldn’t stand her, once again, making me come out on a Sunday just because she felt like it.

She greeted me with a big smile.

"Ona! Thanks for coming. You’re on a bike?"

"Yes, I just came from a barbecue, safer that way!"

She smiled and continued.

"How forgetful I am, I left my keys in Brittany! Come in, you’ll help me, it won’t take long! I found this beautiful coffee table… Isn’t it gorgeous?! I just got back, I needed to check everything with the rugs!"

I couldn’t believe it… She had made me come on a Sunday to test a coffee table. She was mocking me!

Seeing my stunned expression, she added:

"I couldn’t wait!"

What gall. She made me come for this, the selfish woman. I’d placed orders for coffee tables that I’d probably have to cancel soon. Without saying anything, she grabbed my arm.

"Let’s go!"

Her hand on my skin... Calm down, Ona, the alcohol is making you more sensitive. Self-control. This woman is a pain.

We carried the coffee table, which was indeed beautiful, to the living room. We unrolled the first rug, the ochre one, and tried to arrange it in various ways with the coffee table on top. Then came the Persian rug.

I didn’t speak much. My irritation contrasted with her enthusiasm. She made big gestures, smiling. That smile… The rug was heavy, and she couldn’t decide where she wanted it. We kept moving it around. The heat was unbearable, I was exhausted, and sweating.

"Tell me, Lucy, just to clear something up?"

She looked up.

"You’re really the mayor of this city?"

She nodded, surprised.

"A city of 200,000 people. You must make many decisions, take a stand. So I have a question: HOW CAN YOU SPEND SO MUCH TIME DECIDING WHERE TO PUT A DAMN RUG?!"

She enjoyed my apparent bad mood and my tone, half-humorous, half-serious.

"Remember, satisfying my most extravagant demands, Ona."

She fixed me with her gaze. That look… I was burning up, more than ever. I wanted her skin against mine. A physical need.

In yet another move, I tripped on the rug. Literally. I fell forward onto the Persian rug.

I looked at her. A smile on her face, she was mocking me. I pouted. She came closer, offering her hand to help me up.

I was irritated by this mess. I was hot. The alcohol coursing through my veins was loosening me up. I grabbed her hand and pulled her toward me so forcefully that she fell onto the rug beside me.

Stop, Ona, I thought, you’re going too far. 

But it was too late. 

Lucy on her back, I stared at her and moved closer to her face. Her eyes didn’t leave mine. Her gaze was a mix of surprise, concern, and desire. Yes, desire—I could see it. 

I was only a few centimeters from her lips. She was now so vulnerable.

[cxvii666]

TENNNN, congrats btw!! And I’d love to be moots if you’d like 💕

Name: Mara

Age: 20

Pronouns: she/her

Sexual Orientation: bisexual

My Guilty Pleasure Fanfic Trope: I don’t really have a guilty pleasure one, I just love angsty ass friends to lovers

Preferred Fandom: My Hero Academia

Favourite First Date Idea: arcade!

Favourite Album: AM - Arctic Monkeys

My Screen Time: 8hrs

Love Life Status: Single 😕

“your perfect match is...”

... DENKI KAMINARI

“i heard that you fell in love, or near enough”

wc: 735

"if i make this one then you owe me."

you look up at denki from your phone. he's standing by the little basketball hoop holding one of those foam balls in his hand wide grin on his face.

"i owe you? you're the one that wanted to play this one, i want to-"

the blonde shushes you and mimes zipping his mouth. "i need total silence for this shot babe."

you roll your eyes at the denki. you always let him do this. he barges into your room, without knocking, you scream at him to go away, he doesn't, he sits on your bed and makes idle conversation, says your hair looks nice, bats his pretty little eyelashes at you, and before you can even begin to protest you're being dragged into town, his companion on whatever side quest he's on. you complain the whole way, the standard 'don't you have other friends' and he just looks at you, his face melted in confusion as if to say, 'why would you even ask that?' and says some variation of "you're just more fun to hang out with ig".

'to hang out with.'

that's all it is. hang out. but the butterflies in your stomach can't seem to be able to tell the fucking difference, and the voice in the back of your mind that lets you know that he does treat you differently to his other friends doesn't shut up either.

after last time, he forced you to the cinema and spent the whole time tracing circles on the back of your hand, your thighs brushing every time one of you moved, and when you got home you spent like 10 minutes screaming into your pillow, and like a full hour in the shower going over every little detail of each your interactions with him, you promised yourself that you'd say no next time.

but here you are, hanging out.

"when i make this basket-"

"-if you make it-"

"when i make it," his stupid smug little grin that you wanna slap off of his stupid pretty face, "you owe me a kiss."

i think you hide your shock pretty well, your eyes widen only slightly, but your mind is running like crazy. as in, this has seriously undone all the convincing of 'oh he's this touchy feeling with all his friends' that you'd been repeating in your head every time he holds your hand, or hugs you you a bit too long, or kisses you bye on the cheek.

but you stay focused, locked in, you won't let him play his little mind games with you, at least, you think they're games?

so you try your best at throwing him off the scent.

"yeah, well," he turns his head back to you and move your hair out of your face "why don't you just ask your girlfriend."

"huh, what gir- girlfriend?" denki stutters and almost drops the ball, clearly not the reaction he'd been expecting. "i do not have a girlfriend?"

you're more collected now but still kinda confused at his confusion "no?" you tease "so that girl you were talking about last week was.."

"who? her? nah that's bro." he scrunches his face and bounces the ball about in his hands.

you slide your phone into your back pocket "that's bro?"

"yeah like," the blonde takes a moment and rolls the words around in his mouth, like he's trying to reassure you of something, "she's bro, she's- she's just a friend."

"what, like how we're friends?"

denki stops fidgeting for a moment and looks you dead in the eyes, all traces of his playfulness gone. "nothing like us."

"meaning???"

denki drops the eye contact suddenly finding the floor extremely interesting and his voice softens "it's just- it's just not the same is all."

but you press, "how is it not the same?"

"its just not- why are you even asking?" he does his stupid little bit and looks around for hidden cameras. you don't find it funny. "what is this an integration or summin'?"

you sigh, the moments gone and you give up on trying to make sense of him, "just make the fucking shot already."

"yeah, i will make the fucking shot," denki grumbles to himself as he lines his body up with the basket. and its full concentration written on his face. he takes a deep breath, throws the ball.

and misses.

heyyyy cuties i had lots of fun writing this one so @cccupidityy !!! i hope you enjoy ☺️ if you guys wanna get involved im still taking requests so follow da rules and drop me an ask ;) MY OTHER SWEETIES IM STILL WRITING URS I PROMISE ILL GET THEM OUT SOON