#well the mystery continues and this guy ends up disappearing too... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

brunchable · 3 months ago

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𝐌𝐫. 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭'𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 | Stucky x f!reader.

Part Two | Four Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!reader, Steve Rogers x f!reader | Daughter of Thaddeus Ross (Red Hulk) Words: 5.8K Themes: Forbidden/Off-Limits Reader, Love Triangle, M for Mature, 18+ , Post-Endgame, AGE GAP (24y/o reader). Summary: Steve and Sam discuss Steve’s lingering thoughts about the mysterious woman he danced with at a party, while Bucky continues his therapy sessions with Y/N. Y/N ends her engagement with Ethan, leading to a tense confrontation with her father, Thaddeus Ross, who pressures her to maintain the arrangement for political reasons. Y/N’s growing connection with Bucky becomes more apparent, but her father's expectations weigh heavily on her, leaving her conflicted about her future. A/N: Steve's song can be One Kiss by Dua lipa lmao.

taggies: @astrelz @pattiemac1

Steve and Sam had just finished their usual morning run, both catching their breath as they walked toward a bench, sandwich in hand, their usual routine after.

Steve’s hair was still damp with sweat, and Sam wiped his forehead with the back of his hand as they found a park bench. The park bustled with early morning energy—people in suits rushing, joggers taking a break, and the steady hum of traffic in the distance.

"You know, you’re getting slower, Cap," Sam teased, flashing Steve a grin as they sat down.

Steve smirked, settling on the bench. "I thought I’d take it easy on you."

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, right. Three days ago, you were out there dancing like you had moves I’d never seen before, and now you’re holding back on a run?"

Steve sighed, "You’re not gonna let that go, are you?"

"Nope. You’ve been quiet since that night. A little too quiet, if you ask me."

Steve avoided Sam’s gaze, watching the pigeons on loitering around. "It was just... a one time thing."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Just a one time thing? Come on, man, I saw you two. There was something going on out there, and it wasn’t just the music."

"I don’t even know who she is." Steve finally looked up, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Doesn’t matter," Sam replied, shrugging as he took a big bite. "You don’t need to know her to know that something clicked. That’s why you’ve been all broody these past few days."

Steve sighed, leaning back in his chair and looking out at the city as it buzzed with life around them. The memory of her—of the girl he’d danced with—had stayed with him, playing in his mind over and over. Her smile, the way she moved, the way it felt like the rest of the world had disappeared for those few moments.

"I don’t even know her name, Sam," Steve finally admitted.

"So what?" Sam shrugged. "You’ve got instincts, right? If it felt right, you should do something about it."

Steve glanced over at him. "And do what? Ask around for the girl I danced with at a party I didn’t even want to go to?"

Sam grinned. "It worked for Cinderella."

Steve rolled his eyes, but Sam didn’t let up.

"All I’m saying is, you don’t get moments like that every day. Whatever happened on that dance floor, it’s been on your mind for three days. That means something."

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, a cyclist zoomed past them, so close that their Sam almost dropped his sandwich. Both Steve and Sam jerked back in surprise.

"Whoa!" Sam shouted after the cyclist. "Watch where you’re going!"

"This city..." Steve shook his head, laughing softly.

"You know, you could’ve used that super-soldier strength to tackle the guy." Sam pointed.

Steve gave him a deadpan look. "Yeah, that would’ve gone over real well. Captain America assaults cyclist—makes headlines."

Sam laughed, but the seriousness returned to his voice a moment later. "Look, man, I know you’ve been out of the game for a while, but you deserve to live a little. If that girl gave you even a glimpse of something good... you should try to find her."

Steve stared into the distance, the thought hanging in the air. Could he really track her down? Did he even want to?

"Trust me," Sam added, "might be worth a shot."

Steve sat in silence for a moment, thinking it over. Sam’s words weighed on him, the idea of taking a chance—of finding her again—slowly growing in his mind.

Before Steve could say anything, a group of women walked past their bench. One of them glanced back, her eyes widening as she recognized him. She stopped in her tracks, tugging on her friend’s arm.

"Oh my God, aren’t you... Captain America?"

Steve sighed inwardly, but a polite smile spread across his face. "Not anymore," he said smoothly, pointing to Sam, "he is."

The women turned their wide-eyed stares to Sam, and for a moment, there was stunned silence. Sam blinked, his expression somewhere between amused and baffled.

"Oh... um..." one of the women stammered, clearly caught off guard.

Sam shot Steve a playful glare, then broke into a broad grin. "That’s right," he said, leaning back in the bench with exaggerated confidence. "I’m the new and improved model."

The women giggled, their surprise quickly turning into admiration. "Can we get a picture with both of you?" one of them asked.

Sam didn’t miss a beat. "Only if you tag me as the real Captain America."

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "Come on, let’s get this over with."

The women quickly snapped a picture, and after thanking them with enthusiasm, they moved on, still buzzing with excitement. As they walked away, Sam shot Steve a mischievous grin.

"You know, I really should start charging for these appearances," Sam said.

Steve rolled his eyes but smiled. "Maybe you should."

As Steve sat back down, Sam shook his head, laughing. "Man, even when you’re trying to lay low, you can’t avoid the spotlight."

Steve gave him a half-smile, but his mind was elsewhere. He stared out at the busy street, Sam’s words echoing in his head.

"Maybe you’re right," Steve said quietly.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "About what?"

"About finding her," Steve said, his voice firming up, “I mean. . . my life has been feeling a bit dull.”

Sam grinned, slapping Steve on the shoulder. "Now that’s what I like to hear."

Steve shifted on the bench, a new determination building inside him. He didn’t know how he was going to do it, but Sam was right.

× × × ×

Back at the mansion, Y/N barely had time to settle in when her father stormed into the room. Thaddeus was not a man easily angered, but when he was, the entire house felt the weight of it. Today was one of those days. His presence loomed large as he stood rigid in the doorway, his eyes cold and piercing.

“I just got word that you ended your engagement,” Thaddeus’s voice was sharp, each word cutting through the air. His hands clenched into tight fists at his sides as he took a step forward. “Without even telling me.”

Y/N’s heart raced, but she stood her ground, refusing to shrink under his gaze. “I didn’t need your permission, Dad. It was my decision.”

Thaddeus’s eyes narrowed, his face hardening. “Your decision?” His voice rose in fury as he closed the distance between them, looming over her. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? This wasn’t just some personal arrangement, Y/N. This was a political move—a way to solidify alliances. And now, you’ve destroyed it.”

Y/N could feel the tension radiating from him, but she refused to let his anger rattle her. “There was no love between us, and you know it,” she snapped back, her voice steady despite the pounding in her chest. “I wasn’t going to marry someone just because it suited your politics.”

Thaddeus’s expression darkened, his jaw clenched. “This isn’t about love. This is about duty. This is about the family, about what we stand for! You’ve always been reckless, thinking you can make decisions like this without understanding the consequences.”

“Oh my gosh! Duty? So are we some part of the royal family?,” Y/N shot back, her voice trembling but resolute. “I couldn’t live a lie anymore.”

Thaddeus’s laugh was bitter, “You’ve never had to live the life I’ve lived, Y/N. You’ve always had everything handed to you, protected from the real world, from real responsibility. Well, guess what? Life isn’t about what you want. It’s about what you have to do. It’s about playing your part.”

Y/N felt the weight of his words sinking in, but she wouldn’t back down. She’d made her choice, and for the first time, she’d done it for herself.

“You better take it back,” Thaddeus ordered, his voice low and menacing. “Call him. Fix this. The engagement is not over.”

Y/N blinked, stunned by the sheer audacity of his demand. “Take it back?” She let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “You want me to go back to Ethan? To a man who’s still in love with his ex? That’s what you want?”

Thaddeus didn’t flinch. “It’s what’s necessary.”

“Necessary for you,” Y/N said, her voice rising as the frustration bubbled over. “You’re already president! What more do you need? This is my life, Dad. Not another political maneuver you can use to your advantage.”

Thaddeus’s gaze sharpened, his lips thinning into a hard line. “You don’t understand how the world works. You’re my daughter. Everything you do reflects on this family, on me. You think you can run around making decisions on a whim? That’s not how this works.”

“I won’t go back to him,” Y/N said firmly, her voice steady with defiance.

Thaddeus stepped closer, his voice low but dripping with cold authority. “You don’t have a choice. In a month’s time, I’ll be introducing you to the world. The daughter of President Thaddeus Ross. You will stand by my side and play your part, whether you like it or not. You’re not just my daughter. You are an extension of everything I’ve built.”

Y/N felt the suffocating weight of his words settling over her, like a blanket she couldn’t shake off. She had always known that being Thaddeus Ross’s daughter came with expectations, but now, more than ever, she felt like she was nothing more than a pawn in his grand political game.

“I won’t be part of your plans,” she said, her voice quieter but laced with firm defiance.

Thaddeus’s eyes bore into hers, his face hardening into a cold, unreadable mask. “You already are,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Without another word, he turned and stormed out of the room, leaving Y/N standing there, her hands trembling as the enormity of his expectations pressed down on her shoulders. The life she wanted, the freedom she craved—it all seemed further away than ever.

× × × ×

Y/N sank onto the couch, her mind racing. Ending things with Ethan had felt like the right decision, but her father’s reaction made her question everything. Could she ever escape this life? Could she ever truly be free from her father’s control?

Her gaze drifted around the room, settling on a framed photograph sitting on the mantle—one of the few pictures she had of her mother. It was old, faded at the edges, a reminder of a woman she never got the chance to know. After her parents had separated when she was just a baby, her mother had disappeared from her life completely. All Y/N had were secondhand stories and a face in a photograph.

Her father never talked about her mother, and Y/N had stopped asking questions long ago. But sometimes, like now, she couldn’t help but wonder what her life might have been like if she’d had her mother around—someone who could have balanced her father’s rigid expectations, someone who could have shown her what it meant to live freely.

But that life had never been an option. Her mother was gone, and her father was all she had. As much as she tried to carve out her own path, the weight of being Thaddeus Ross’s daughter was always there, pulling her back in.

Her thoughts drifted away from the heaviness of her family and back to her recent encounters with Bucky. There was something about him, something different from everything else in her life. He didn’t push, didn’t demand. He just... was. And that simplicity, that calmness—it was starting to mean more to her than she had anticipated.

Her thoughts shifted to Ethan when she noticed a missed call from him. She stared at her phone for a long moment. They hadn’t spoken since she called off the engagement, and part of her wanted to ignore him. She had made her choice—there was nothing more to say. But curiosity tugged at her. What could he possibly want now?

With a resigned sigh, Y/N tapped on his number and brought the phone to her ear. It rang twice before Ethan picked up, his voice cool and calculated, as always.

“Y/N.”

“Ethan,” she replied, her tone cautious. “I saw your missed call. What do you want?”

There was a brief pause before Ethan spoke again, his voice more measured than before. “I’ve been thinking about everything that happened. About the engagement.”

Y/N’s defenses went up instantly. “There’s nothing more to talk about. I ended it.”

“I know, and I’m not calling to argue that,” Ethan said, his voice calm. “I get why you did it. I’ve been thinking about what you said. Maybe you were right, but that doesn’t change what’s happening around us.”

“What are you getting at, Ethan?” Y/N pressed, her voice sharp. “Why are you calling me?”

“Look, this isn’t easy for me to explain over the phone,” Ethan replied, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. “But we’re in a complicated situation right now, both of us. And it’s not just about us—it’s about our families and that event your dad wants to hold.”

Y/N sighed, already feeling exhausted by the conversation. “I know all of that. But I’m not going back to the way things were, Ethan. I’m done.”

“I’m not asking you to go back to that,” Ethan said quickly, his voice becoming more urgent. “Just... hear me out. I have a plan, a way for us to manage this without blowing everything up.”

Y/N frowned. “What kind of plan?”

“It’s hard to explain,” Ethan replied, his voice vague and careful, almost too careful. “But I’ve been thinking. There’s a way to do this... to make sure we both come out of this in one piece. But you’re going to have to trust me.”

Y/N’s stomach churned. “Trust you? Ethan, I ended things because I didn’t want to keep pretending. You want me to trust you with something you won’t even explain?”

“I know it sounds like I’m asking for a lot,” Ethan admitted, his voice softening slightly. “But trust me when I say I’m looking out for both of us here. I’m not going to let this get messy—for you or for me.”

Y/N clenched her jaw, frustrated by his vagueness. “You can’t expect me to just go along with this without knowing what you’re planning.”

Ethan sighed heavily. “I get it. I do. But right now, I can’t give you all the details. It’s just... complicated, I’m arranging plenty of things okay? And I need you to trust me on this. You don’t want to deal with the fallout if we handle this the wrong way.”

Y/N bit her lip, her mind racing. The idea of trusting Ethan after everything felt absurd, but something about the way he was speaking, the way he kept insisting, made her pause. She hated the thought of going along with anything Ethan was plotting, but part of her wondered if he was right—if handling things the wrong way could make everything worse.

“And what exactly am I supposed to do in the meantime?” Y/N asked, her voice low, testing the waters.

“For now, just... we act like we did before,” Ethan replied, sounding almost relieved that she hadn’t hung up. “Just let things settle. Your dad becoming President is a huge deal.”

Y/N sighed, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on her. “I’m not going to pretend forever, Ethan.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Ethan said, his voice firm. “But this is bigger than us right now. Just... trust me. I promise you, it won’t be like this for long. I want out as much as you do.”

Y/N sat in silence, conflicted. She didn’t trust Ethan—not completely—but the idea of making things messier, of causing a scandal in the middle of her father’s presidency, made her stomach churn. She didn’t know if she had it in her to make things worse for everyone involved.

“I’ll think about it,” Y/N finally said, her voice hesitant but tired.

“Sure, think about it, but don’t dwell on it too long.”

Y/N ended the call and placed her phone down on the coffee table, staring at it for a moment. She had always thought that ending the engagement would free her, but even now, it felt like she was still trapped, still playing a role in a life she didn’t want.

Her mind drifted to Bucky, to the quiet ease of their encounters. There were no plans, no demands, no complicated webs of politics and expectations with him. He was just... Bucky. And right now, more than anything, that simplicity was what she needed.

× × × ×

Session 2

Bucky sat with his arms crossed over his chest, his body tense. The room was quiet, save for the soft ticking of a clock on the wall, and the distant murmur of voices outside the door. He glanced around the room, his eyes landing on the notebook in Y/N’s hands. She was back in her professional attire—hair neatly pulled back, glasses perched on her nose, and her demeanor all business.

Therapist mode.

It felt strange to Bucky now. Over the past few days, he’d run into her outside the office—at the market, at the coffee shop—and each time, she had been different. Relaxed. Playful, even. It was hard to take her seriously now, after seeing her “real” character, the carefree woman who laughed easily and joked around. This version of her felt stiff, too controlled.

“So,” Y/N began, her voice calm and measured, as she glanced up from her notes, “let’s talk about the list.”

Bucky frowned. “The list?”

“Your amends list,” she clarified, looking him directly in the eye. “The one you’ve been working on.”

Bucky shifted in his seat, his eyes flicking to the window. “Right. That.”

Y/N remained unfazed, her gaze steady as she waited for him to continue. “You’ve made some progress,” she said, glancing at the file on her lap. “But there are still names on that list, aren’t there?”

Bucky hesitated, then shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, there are names.”

Y/N nodded, her expression neutral. “How does it feel, working through it?”

Bucky sighed, glancing back at her. “Honestly? It feels like a damn chore,” he muttered, not hiding his frustration. “I’m sorry, but I’m finding it hard to take this seriously.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly expecting more. “Why is that?”

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Well, it’s a little tough taking therapy advice from someone who I’ve seen spill her coffee and laugh about it, or humming ‘80s pop hits while picking out apples at the grocery store.” He shrugged, the smirk widening slightly. “It’s like... therapist by day, party animal by night. Hard to keep a straight face after that.”

Y/N stared at him, her expression completely unchanged, the silence in the room growing heavier by the second.

Bucky’s smirk faltered slightly as the silence in the room dragged on. He shifted in his seat, suddenly feeling like he was under a spotlight.

“Tough crowd,” he muttered, letting out a short laugh.

Y/N didn’t budge. She kept her gaze on him, unblinking, before calmly responding, “It’s not about me, Sergeant. It’s about you and the work you’re doing here.”

Bucky’s smirk faltered. He hadn’t expected her to call him out so bluntly. He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess.”

Y/N continued, her voice steady but a little softer. “I get that it might feel strange after seeing me in a different context. But here, this is the space where we work through things. You can joke, but the process still matters.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. He wasn’t used to this version of Y/N. Outside, she had been easygoing, someone he could joke with. But here? She wasn’t giving him any leeway.

He sighed, his hands resting on his lap. “Yeah, well... it’s not just that. The whole list... It feels pointless sometimes. What’s the point of making amends when none of them will ever forgive me?”

Y/N’s expression softened, though her gaze remained steady. “It’s not about them forgiving you, Sergeant. It’s about you finding a way to forgive yourself.”

Those words hit a little too close to home, and Bucky shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Easier said than done.”

Y/N leaned back slightly, giving him some space. “Of course it is. But you’ve already started. You’ve been facing those demons. You’re not running anymore.”

Bucky met her eyes, feeling the tension in his body slowly ease.

Y/N flipped to another page in her notes. “You said you’ve crossed a few names off the list. Tell me about them.”

Bucky hesitated. He wasn’t used to opening up like this, but something about Y/N—therapist mode or not—made it a little easier to talk. “There’s this one... Yori. His son... I killed him. Not on purpose, but... it happened. I still haven’t told him the truth.”

Y/N stayed quiet, giving him the space to continue.

“I’ve been spending time with him,” Bucky went on, his voice quieter now. “He doesn’t know why I’m there, though. He just thinks we’re friends. And I—” He stopped, his throat tightening again. “I can’t bring myself to tell him. How do you do that? How do you tell someone that you’re the reason their son is dead?”

Y/N’s gaze softened, but she didn’t offer easy answers. “You don’t have to rush that conversation,” she said gently. “You’re allowed to take the time you need. But when the moment comes, you’ll know. And it’ll be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. But it might also be the first real step toward healing.”

Bucky clenched his fists in his lap, the weight of her words settling over him. Healing. It felt impossible sometimes.

For a moment, there was silence between them. Y/N scribbled something in her notebook, then glanced up at him again. “You’ve done more than you realize. You’re facing these things head-on, even when they terrify you. And that... that takes courage.”

Bucky scoffed softly. “Courage, huh?”

Y/N smiled faintly. “Yes, courage. You’re here, aren’t you?”

Bucky met her eyes for a long moment, something unspoken passing between them. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it felt... different. Like she understood him more than most people ever could.

“Yeah,” Bucky said quietly, glancing down at his hands. “I’m here.”

And for now, that was enough.

× × × ×

After Bucky's session, Y/N sat at her desk, absently scrolling through her emails. A new message popped up, and her heart sank when she saw the subject line: Event Details – Ross Family Introduction.

She hesitated for a moment before clicking on it, her stomach churning as she read through the formal invitation. In a month’s time, her father was planning to host a grand event where he would officially introduce her to the public—his secret family, finally revealed. It wasn’t just a casual introduction; it was a spectacle, one that would change her life forever.

The ornate wording of the invitation made her feel even more trapped. There was no escape from this. Her father expected her to be perfect, to play the role of the ideal daughter, to smile and wave and uphold the pristine image of the Ross family.

Her phone buzzed, pulling her attention from the email. It was a text from her father: We’ll go over everything soon. Be prepared.

Y/N stared at the message, the weight of it all hitting her again. She was being groomed for a life she didn’t want, expected to conform to an image she didn’t recognize.

She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples, her mind drifting away from the impending event. Her thoughts wandered back to earlier that day, to her session with Bucky. She had kept her cool, remained professional, but one thing from that session stood out more than the rest: the moment Bucky had called her a party animal.

The comment had caught her off guard at the time, and now, thinking back on it, something about it gnawed at her. A faint, fleeting thought crossed her mind, one she quickly dismissed—but it returned just as fast. Could Bucky have been the guy she danced with at the party?

Her heart skipped a beat at the memory of the man on the dance floor. No, she reasoned. It couldn’t be him. The guy she kissed looked different. His hair was shorter, his face was less familiar. And yet, something about the way Bucky had looked at her earlier, the way he had joked about seeing her outside of therapy, lingered in her mind.

But Bucky couldn’t be the same guy. Could he?

She sighed, shaking her head. She was overthinking it. There was no way Bucky was the mysterious man from the party. The man looked different, acted differently. And yet, the thought wouldn’t fully leave her.

Y/N glanced back at the screen, at the email detailing the event that awaited her. The weight of her father’s expectations pressed down even harder now, but her mind remained distracted, circling back to Bucky and the lingering feeling of familiarity she couldn’t quite shake.

× × × ×

It was late afternoon, and the air was warm with a gentle breeze as Y/N jogged along the park’s winding path. She loved this time of day—when the sun was low in the sky, casting everything in a golden light. It was the perfect time to clear her head, especially with everything weighing on her lately. Her thoughts kept drifting back to the event her father had planned, but out here, she could forget about it for a while.

Dressed in a sports bra and yoga pants, she moved easily along the trail, her ponytail swaying behind her as she ran. The beat of her music thumped in her ears, the rhythm of her steps in sync with the song. She was feeling good, maybe even a little confident—until she noticed two figures up ahead.

She slowed her pace slightly, squinting as she recognized them. It was Bucky and Steve, both casually walking along the path, deep in conversation. For a moment, Y/N considered veering off onto another trail, but it was too late—Bucky had already spotted her.

“Y/N?” Bucky’s voice called out.

Y/N slowed to a jog, then stopped a few feet in front of them, catching her breath. She pulled out her earbuds, her skin glistening slightly with sweat.

“Hey, Sergeant Barnes,” she greeted with a teasing smile, her breath still coming in short bursts. She gave a quick nod to Steve. “Captain Rogers.”

Steve smiled, his eyes flickering briefly over her before meeting her gaze. “Just Steve, please.”

“Didn’t expect to see you out here.” Bucky seemed momentarily distracted, his gaze lingering on her a little longer than usual.

“Same. But I try to get a run in whenever I can.” Y/N grinned, leaning down for a second to catch her breath, aware of how her outfit might look.

Steve, ever the polite gentleman, stepped forward, hand reaching for a shake, “Nice to meet you. You must run a lot to be out here in this heat.”

“It’s my way of staying sane.” She flashed a smile, quickly shaking Steve’s hand.

Bucky’s gaze hadn’t left her, and she couldn’t help but notice the slight flicker of something in his expression—was it surprise? Amusement? She couldn’t quite tell, but it gave her a bit of a thrill.

“So, are you two just out for a walk?” she asked, wiping the sweat from her brow, subtly glancing at Bucky again. She couldn’t help but recall the lingering thought from a few days ago—could Bucky have been the guy from the party?

“Yeah,” Steve answered, a light chuckle in his voice. “Bucky’s been showing me the less crowded areas. He likes to keep things... quiet.”

“Like I said, no need to be recognized every five minutes.” Bucky scoffed.

Y/N chuckled, catching her breath fully now. “Smart.”

There was a brief silence, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel a little awkward standing there in front of them, especially with how intensely Bucky was watching her. She shifted slightly, not entirely sure why she felt so on edge around him, especially after the last session. The whole party animal comment still gnawed at the back of her mind.

“So... how’s the list going?” she asked, throwing the question at Bucky, more as a distraction than anything.

“Even on a jog, huh? I thought we weren’t in therapy mode right now.” Bucky smirked, raising an eyebrow.

“Just curious. But if it’s confidential, I’ll back off.”

Steve glanced between them, an amused smile creeping across his face. “Looks like you two know each other. . .well?”

“Yeah, we’ve crossed paths a few times.” Bucky shrugged, still watching Y/N.

“More than a few,” Y/N added playfully, though her heartbeat seemed to stay quickened.

Steve gave a nod, his curiosity piqued. “Interesting.”

“Well, I’d better get back to my run. You guys enjoy your walk.” Y/N straightened, glancing between the two of them.

Before either of them could respond, Y/N turned and jogged off, feeling their eyes on her as she went. She could almost sense Bucky’s gaze lingering a little longer than it should have. Her mind raced, that same nagging thought creeping back in: could it really have been Bucky at the party?

As she rounded a corner and left them behind, she couldn’t help but glance back, catching Bucky’s eyes one last time. No, it couldn’t be him. Could it?

× × × ×

Bucky watched as Y/N jogged away, her form disappearing around the bend of the path. She was hard to ignore—especially dressed like that, with her confidence and energy radiating off her. It was a stark contrast to the calm, composed version of her he’d seen in their sessions.

What made it worse, though, was the fact that he knew. He knew Y/N was the woman Steve had danced with, the one he kissed at the party. Steve hadn’t figured it out, hadn’t made the connection. But Bucky had. He’d recognized Y/N after seeing her many times, her face too familiar to forget. But he hadn’t said anything. He didn’t know why he kept it to himself—maybe because it wasn’t his business.

His mind wandered back to what she said earlier—about the list. Even outside of the office, she seemed to care about his progress. But Bucky had to admit, something about seeing her like this, away from their usual serious conversations, made it harder for him to keep things professional in his head. Especially with her jogging off like that.

“You’re staring, Buck.”

Bucky blinked, forcing himself to look away. “No, I’m not.”

“You are. And don’t try to deny it.” Steve chuckled.

Bucky shook his head, trying to play it off. “I wasn’t... I was just—” He trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

“You were just... admiring the view?” Steve teased, a knowing smile creeping across his face.

“Shut up, man.” Bucky shot him a glare, but it lacked the bite.

Steve’s grin widened. “I get it. She’s... hard to miss.”

Bucky exhaled, his jaw tightening. He hated how obvious he must have looked. “It’s not—She’s... she’s my therapist, kinda. It’s complicated.”

“Oh, so it is like that.” Steve raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ve got a thing for your therapist?”

Bucky shot him another glare. He DID NOT have a thing for her, but ever since the first time he ran into her outside of their sessions, he’d been struggling to reconcile the two versions of Y/N—the professional therapist and the carefree woman he kept bumping into. And now, seeing her like this? It wasn’t helping.

“No, I don’t,” Bucky said, though it sounded more defensive than he intended. “She’s just... different than I thought. That’s all.”

Steve chuckled again, shaking his head. “Whatever you say, Buck. But from where I’m standing, it seems like she’s gotten under your skin.”

Steve watched as Bucky’s eyes lingered on the spot where Y/N had disappeared around the bend. He could tell Bucky was trying to play it cool, but it was obvious—Y/N had thrown him off his game. Steve knew Bucky well enough to recognize when something, or someone, had shaken him.

“You know, she seems pretty cool,” Steve said casually, watching for Bucky’s reaction. “Smart, confident. You don’t see that every day.”

Bucky grunted in response, still not looking at him.

Steve smirked, deciding to push a little further. “So, how long have you known her?”

Bucky shrugged, clearly trying to downplay it. “Not long. We’ve just run into each other a few times. Nothing major.”

Steve wasn’t buying it. There was more to this than Bucky was letting on.

“Uh-huh. And you didn’t mention her before because...?”

Bucky finally looked over at Steve, his face guarded. “Because there’s nothing to mention.”

Steve gave him a look, the same one he’d been giving Bucky since the ‘40s whenever Bucky tried to avoid a subject. “Right. You’re just staring after her because... nothing.”

Bucky let out an exasperated sigh. “Look, she’s a therapist I’m seeing for some stuff. That’s it. I didn’t bring it up because it’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal. Well, she clearly left an impression on you. The way you were watching her jog away... if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were interested.”

Bucky frowned, throwing his arms in the air. “I am not interested, Steve.”

Steve smiled, leaning in a little. “You sure about that? Because it seems to me like maybe it’s a little more complicated than you’re letting on.”

Bucky shook his head.

Steve’s smile softened, and he gave Bucky a nudge. “Look, man. I’m not saying you have to do anything about it. But maybe... don’t ignore whatever you’re feeling. You’ve been through a lot. It’s okay to let someone in.”

Bucky didn’t respond, his jaw tightening again. Steve knew he wasn’t going to push it any further for now, but he could see it—Y/N had definitely gotten under Bucky’s skin, whether Bucky was ready to admit it or not.

As they continued their walk, Steve glanced over at Bucky, a small grin playing on his lips. He’d keep this little observation to himself for now, but he’d definitely be keeping an eye on this whole situation. Something told him this wasn’t the last time Y/N was going to cross their paths.

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gunaerystargarygun · 2 months ago

Text

The brain worms continue to infest my brain.

Posted on Ao3, but posting here as well: Here's my contribution to the Stan x Reader genre.

Tags: Vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, porn with mild plot, c'mon you guys know me at this point.

Know When to Fold 'Em

"Thanks for all your help, you're doin great, dood!" Soos's voice is full of pride, contentment as you hand over small zipped bag, the profits of the day. You smile, giving a slight shrug of your shoulders. "Soos, you've told me that every day for the past two years."

"And I mean it every time! Can't imagine runnin' this place without ya," he beams at you, his crooked smile making your own smile grow a little larger. Despite him being a few years younger than you, he makes a fantastic boss. "Can't believe Mr. Pines thought you was gonna be useless when I hired ya."

Well, that makes the smile drop.

You met Mr. Pines, well, both Mr. Pines when you got a job here at the shack, cashier and handyperson. A little odd, yes, but you needed the job and for a tourist trap? The place paid well enough, you could afford a small house and just about everything else you needed. You tap your foot, pressing your lips together. "Soos, not that I don't appreciate the words of encouragement, but you don't have to be up here." You throw a thumb over your shoulder and gesture to the shack. "I'm sure Melody could use your help with the baby."

"You sure? I feel kinda bad leavin' you here with all the clean up and restocking." Just as you're about to assure him that you're more than capable of restocking bobble heads and putting out minimally designed bumper stickers, the doorbell chimes and another voice breaks in. "Don't worry about it, Soos. I'll make sure everything gets put back in its place." The old Mr. Mystery poses in front of you. He stands tall, a rather tacky Hawaiian shirt with luau girls and surfboards plastered on it, a pair of khakis completing the look. He stretches his arms out in a flourish, making his entrance more grand.

You roll your eyes slightly, it's the same every time he comes into the shack, which...has been quite a lot, recently. "I haven't had a complaint once," you remark as Stanley begins to look around the place.

"That's cause Soos is too nice of a boss," he says, running his finger along the underside of the checkout counter. "See all this dust? Unbelievable!" He sticks out a finger towards your face, which you squint at.

"There's nothing there."

"To the untrained eye, maybe! This place may as well be covered in mud." You grumble an unhappy sound before Soos speaks up again. "Ah c'mon, Mr. Pines, they're a great worker!" Soos' arm comes around you in a one sided hug, squeezing you tight against his side. "Say, you been around a lot." Soos relaxes his grip on you, which lets you take in a deep breath. "You miss runnin' the shack?"

"What? No, no." He waves a hand dismissively. "Just makin' sure my life's work is still up and runnin', you know. Plus, the kids loved this place."

That was true. You had the pleasure of meeting the twins at the start of this summer. The girl, Mabel, was charming as all get out - she even made you a sweater, which you promised to wear in the colder months. The young boy, Dipper? A little surly. You swore he was running tests on when you weren't looking, or was trying to, anyway. At least by the end of the summer, whatever anxiety he had about you seemed to wash away.

"Okay! I'm gonna trust this place to yous guys. Lock up!" Soos waves his goodbyes, disappearing from the gift shop and somewhere into the house.

"I can handle this, you know?" You make your way to the small storage closet, taking out a box and ripping it open.

"I'm sure you can," he shrugs his shoulders. "Just makin' sure you do it right." Stanley then makes his way behind the register and takes a seat. You stand, blinking.

"What?" He asks.

"Aren't you going to help?"

"Huh? Oh, no, I'm not helpin' like that. I'm supervisin' ya," he laughs, slapping his own knee before propping them up on the counter.

You don't know why you expected anything different. You've known Stanley for the better part of two years and while he certainly has his redeeming qualities, being extra helpful isn't one of them. You sigh, and begin unpacking the restocks.

To your surprise, Stan is the one who strikes up the conversation. It's simple questions at first, how the shack has been, the types of tourists that've been coming around, and how Soos has been running the place. Whenever you think you finish with an answer, he probes for me, and you notice, his eyes stay on you a large majority of the time.

You feel your face flush a little with that.

Finally, the restocking is done, and you get the broom. Minimal housekeeping; the weather has been dry, so no mud. "You got any plans tonight?" The question catches you off guard, making you turn completely around to face Stan.

"Uh, other than eating a frozen pizza? No. Why?"

"Wanna play a couple round of cards?" He stuffs his hands in his khaki pockets, shrugging, as if he doesn't care how you answer the question. The way he shifts his attention to the floor, however, makes you think otherwise. "Ford's out on a nature hike, or whatever it is that nerds do in the woods, so I got no plans myself."

"Sure." You answer. "Sounds like fun, and beats eating the pizza alone."

By the look of quick surprise, he clearly wasn't expecting you to say yes. He shrugs it off fast enough, shooting a finger gun at you. "Perfect! What's the address? I'll be over at seven." You grab a pen and paper, scribbling it down and passing it over.

Huh, this'll be the first time he sees your house. You think that you better clean up a little bit, not that you think he'd particularly care, but still.

It takes very little to actually clean up your house. A few stray pieces of clothing that make it to the hamper (you missed each time you threw it in, but who's here to see?) and washing a few of the dishes. Just as you finish putting the pizza in, there's a knock at your door.

You hurry up, stopping at the mirror in the hallway just before the door, and look at yourself. You smooth out your shirt, nodding and opening the door.

Stanley stands on your porch with a twelve pack in one hand and two bottles of liquor, held precariously by the neck, in the other. He's still in the same outfit from earlier, but the top few buttons are undone. Were they like that earlier? "Figured it'd be impolite if I only brought it for myself," he shrugs the pack in his arm a little, the bottles clinking together. He glances around. "Nice place."

"Thanks," you say, stepping to the side and letting him in. "Just set it on the table." You watch as he strides through your house, the pack of alcohol landing with a thump while the bottles settle down nicely. He pulls out a chair, easing into it as he props up a foot on one of his knees. The way he leans against the table...

"Where's the cards?" You clear your throat, sliding out a chair across from him and taking a seat. You need something else to distract you.

"Right here," he sticks a hand in his pocket and pulls out a rather beat-up-looking deck of cards and slaps them on the table. "You shuffle, or me?" You eye the cards for a moment, reaching out and grabbing the deck.

"I will." The cards are pleasantly worn, and you can't help but wonder how much use these things have gotten. "Go easy on me? Been a while since I played."

"First rounds are on me," he nods. "Don't try and pull the wool over my eyes." He playfully points an accusatory finger at you.

"I know, I know." You cut the deck, shuffling them thoroughly before dealing them out.

It's...pleasant. You didn't expect it to be unpleasant, to be fair, but aside from the one off times of drinking, there's a handful of times when the two of you have been alone together. Stan takes the time to tell you a wild tale of when he was a "much younger buck," when he managed to steal a shipment of some undisclosed items from a smuggler. It's amusing, even if it isn't real. You can never tell with him.

Eventually, the oven dings and the pizza is ready. It's served, and you bring two glasses out as well. Before the beer, Stan reaches for the liquor and twists off the cap. "Want one?" You press your lips together, thinking for a moment.

"Hit me." It's a guesstimate on how much a shot would be. Or maybe two.

Either way, you wait until Stan pours his before clinking your glasses together and downing it. Whiskey may not be your go-to, especially when it's warm, but the burn in your throat has a familiar comfort. You cough a little, shaking your head and nodding. "Strong." You comment.

"That's the point." He says. Stan sticks out his hand, wiggling his fingers as a sign to hand the cards over. You do, still reeling from the shot as you fish out a bottle of beer. It goes down much easier than the whiskey.

You try very hard to not stare at his hands, but it's difficult. It wasn't something you noticed immediately, but Stan's hands are.... big. Large. Pretty much every synonym for big is how you would describe them, and you vaguely recall the one time you touched them as you passed him something in the shop. They were rough, calloused, but also incredibly warm.

You're not drunk enough to blame that thought on the alcohol right now, so you just push it from your mind as he deals the cards.

Once again, things go back to being pleasant. You nurse your beer as the cards continue to get played, one bottle quickly multiplying between the two of you, along with the cash piling in the center of the table. The conversation steers to him telling you about the adventures he had with the Twins, an endearing tone in his voice that you can't help but smile at. The pizza gets devoured, and when you glance up to the clock, you realize that it's almost eleven o'clock. Have you really been here this long?

That's when it clicks in your alcohol muddled brain.

Stan is lonely. He's been in the shop almost every day for the past week, since the twins left, and even before then, he and the twins were around quite a bit. It would make sense, he went from being around them, his brother, Soos's family, and you for almost three months straight. You look down at the cards, your focus fading for a moment before he speaks.

"Think I mighta run you outta money," he gestures to the table. Your attention turns to it and yeah, there's a decent pile of cash on it. You're pretty sure there's also monopoly money in there, but you're a little too drunk to really notice. "Got anything else to bet?" You think for a moment, tapping the table.

"M'clothes." You answer, plainly. He stares at you.

"Uh, didn't quite catch that?"

"M'CLOTHES." You say it in a louder tone, making sure he can hear it this time. "S'all I got, I'm not up for bettin' my appliances." You point at the blender that sits atop the counter.

"C'mon," he rubs at the back of his neck. "That'd involve me takin' my clothes off too, you don't wanna see that."

"What if I told you that's why I suggested it?" holy shit, why are you saying this? Why are you suddenly so bold, what the hell is in this drink?

"I'd tell ya, you should stop teasin' an old man." You grab the deck of cards, shuffling them in the absolutely worst way ever before slamming them back on the table and pushing them over to him. "Deal 'em."

"You're too drunk for this." The rather sincere reply catches you off guard.

"No, I'm not." You say, stern in your rebuttal. "Look." You jump to your feet, a little wobbly, and begin putting one foot in front of the other, walking a line in the linoleum of your kitchen. While you're not walking perfectly straight, you're doing better than expected. You think so, anyway. "See? I'm f-" just as you're about to finish your sentence, you perform the miraculous feat of tripping over air. You fall a freshly logged tree.

You expect to crash to the floor in the most painful crash since the last time you went to the roller rink, but you never meet the ground. Slowly, you open your eyes, staring up at him. You must have spun in your fall, his hands tucked under your armpits. "What were you sayin' about bein sober enough?" Oh, he's so fucking smug about this.

"I trip on nothin' all the time, drinkin' doesn't have anything to do with this." you weakly shrug your hands, but this close, you catch the smell on him. Mixed with the alcohol, you can catch the scent of cigar smoke, but something faintly woodsy and earthy. It takes everything in you to not sniff at the air. "Uh-huh." he chuckles.

There's a brief moment of silence that passes over the two of you. He doesn't make a move to pull you up, but you're not making a move to get up, either. Instead, you raise a hand and gently press it against his cheek. "You're handsome." You mumble.

"Oh, you're fuckin' wasted."

That makes you twist in his grip. You manage to push yourself to your knees, putting your face just a few inches away from his. "Stop talkin' like I don't mean it."

"You don't mean it."

"I mean this." You grab the sides of his tacky Hawaiian shirt and pull him forward. Your lips crash against his, not realizing how hard you pulled him into you. The scrape of his stubble burns against your chin, a slight shiver running through you. There's the faint taste of tobacco that lingers on him, the chapped skin of his lips. It isn't how you expected this to happen, but to be quite frank, you didn't think this was ever going to happen.

It's only a moment later that you realize he hasn't made a move to kiss you back. He hasn't done anything. You quickly pull back, embarrassed. Why did you do that? God, you're never drinking again. You're not even an alcoholic, and you're planning to go to a 12 step program the second you get sober enough to drive. Your mind races - where else could you move? Maybe the Arctic, right? That's far enough way, that way you c-

You're actually not even far away from him before his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you against his broad chest. You squeak in surprise, hands resting on his thick thighs as he deepens the kiss.

Even through the clothes, he's hot, almost like a furnace. He's burning against you, and this kiss. It makes you dizzy, head spinning. There's a hunger in the kiss, a desperation that you don't think you've ever felt when you kissed other people. His hand holds a tight grip on you, squeezing your side, and you practically melt right into him.

It's a little awkward at first before you two manage to change your positions; neither one of you is keen on breaking the kiss. Eventually, you end up sitting on his lap, legs wrapped around his waist, he sits on the kitchen floor. Shifting, you can feel the hardness of his cock beneath the fabric of the khakis.

Your hands reach for the hem of your shirt. They don't make it far, Stan's hands gripping your wrist. He's somehow even stronger than you expected, your stomach flipping at the pressure. He breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours, panting. You're expecting him to say something filthy, something that's going to make you squirm in his lap.

"Say your alphabet," is what he says instead.

What.

"What?" You ask.

"Say your alphabet," he repeats. "Not sleepin' with ya if you're not in the right state of mind."

"I walked, didn't I?"

"You fell."

Okay, fair enough.

So, you recite your alphabet. It's deliberate, and it's not too slow to cause any concern. As soon as you finish, he releases your wrists and grabs your shirt. It's the fastest your shirt has ever been removed, Stan's face immediately between your tits as soon as he's able. The stubble scratches as your skin, laughing slightly as he plants kisses against your chest. His hands reach around to your back, and you expect him to have trouble with it.

It's off before you can even blink.

"You're suspiciously good at that," you say.

"Aww, you jealous?" He laughs, sliding the bra off and tossing it somewhere behind him. "Don't worry, ain't nobody else gettin' the treatment you are."

"That's what you tell m-" you're cut off, Stan's tongue flicking against your nipple.

"Sayin' somethin', sweetheart?" He glances up, not giving you a chance to speak before he presses his mouth against your left nipple. You grab his shoulders, squirming against him as his tongue swirls around the hardened flesh. One arm wraps around your waist, grinding you against him while his free hand finds your other breast, kneading the flesh in his hand.

Your body feels like it's on fire under his touch. He plays with how much pressure he can put on you, rolling a nipple between his fingers while he sucks mercilessly on your other. Sweat beads on your brow, bucking against him while whimpering sounds escape you. "C'mon, sweetheart." He takes his mouth away from you, the cold air assaulting wet flesh. He playfully bucks his hips up, his cock grinding against you for just a moment. "Wanna hear what a good job I'm doin," he changes the arm that holds you against him, his other hand rising and brushing against the spit slickened skin.

Between the cold and his rough, calloused hand, you feel like you're already on the edge. "You aren't done already, are ya?"

"N-no," you mumble, tilting your head back and moaning as his mouth closes around the other nipple. Judging from the way his tongue flicks against your skin, he certainly appreciates the reaction. The way he sucks against your skin is greedy, teeth nipping at the skin. You're going to have bruises, you've accepted that. Your hands move from his shoulders to his hair, running through the gray, surprisingly soft, hair.

Using everything you can muster, you grind yourself against him. He groans against your skin, the grip on your skin tightening. He pulls away from you with an obscene sound, the words practically a growl in his throat. "Where's the bed?"

"Down the hall, last door on the right."

He gives pause for a moment, thinking. "Too far." He decides, aloud. Before you can process what he says, you're suddenly scooped up. You wrap your arms around him, tits bouncing as he hoists you around him. You leave the kitchen, and in a few feet, you're tossed unceremoniously on the couch. Your hands find the button of your jeans, getting them half way down your thighs before Stan takes over. They're off before you can even blink, Stan settling between your thighs. He picks one up, hooking your leg over his shoulder while he presses a thumb against your soaked panties.

You're already trembling, and your entire body jumps as he presses his thumb against your clit, rotating it in small painfully slow circles. He leans over you, grinning. "You want somethin'?"

"You know what I want," you breathe, fingers gripping the couch cushion.

"'Fraid I don't, sweetheart. You're gonna have to tell me." He lets up on the pressure, eliciting a whine from you. "I want your fingers," you reach out, gently touching his arm.

He's happy to comply. "Wasn't so hard, was it?" There's that smug fuckin' tone in his voice again. You expect him to pull off your underwear, but it doesn't seem like he's patient enough for that. Instead, he pulls them to the side, his middle and ring fingers sliding up and down against your wet cunt.

"W-wait!" You sit up some as he presses against you. "It's, uh..." you clear your throat. "It's been a while." You feel almost embarrassed to admit it, but with how thick his fingers are, and two of them? You don't wanna run the risk of getting hurt. He pauses, offering just the middle one to you in compromise. You make a face, and he laughs before he raises the finger to his mouth. He presses it against his tongue before dipping it back between your thighs. "Don't think that would've been an issue," you murmur as you feel him begin to slide into you.

You tilt your face against the couch arm, moaning as he buries the finger inside of you. "Bein' careful doesn't hurt," that's true, and you do honestly appreciate the sentiment. He moves his hand in a steady rhythm, the other hand keeping your legs spread apart. You bite your lip, and after a few minutes, he judges that you're ready for another and adds the ringer finger inside of you.

It's thick, and stretches you in the best possible way. "Feels good, don't it?" He leans over you, his face just a few inches away from yours. You don't know why it slips out - maybe you lapse back into what you were taught when you were younger. "Y-yes, sir." You pant the words out.

Stan's fingers stutter for just a moment before he thrusts them back into you, a moan immediately muffled by his lips against yours. He curls his fingers in the same way as before, the way that made your body shake like a leaf in his hand. "Like the way that sounds comin' outta you," he says the words against your neck, pressing kisses against your rapid pulse.

You can't handle it anymore. "Stanley," your voice teeters on the edge of breaking, fingers twisting in the Hawaiian shirt fabric. "F-fuck, Stanley, I-I.." the words die in your throat as he suddenly removes his fingers from your cunt. "W-what?" The words come out a whine, grabbing the shirt tighter and moving your hips to try and find his hand. "Stan," you groan.

"I can't have you all tired out before we get to the good stuff," he tells you. His hands move to the belt, making quick work of it. He slips off the khakis, positioning himself between your legs again before pressing the shaft of his cock against you, sliding against the slickness. You look between your legs, the head of his cock dipping in against your cunt before his hand tilts it up, bumping against your overly sensitive clit.

You're dizzy, just like before. Your head swims, biting your lip as he teases you constantly, angling himself and barely pushing himself in before pulling out. "You're lookin' desperate, sweetheart." He does a poor job of concealing his own desire, unable to take his eyes off your body. "Fuck, you're drippin'." He grins at you. "Still got it, huh?"

You suddenly brace your arms against his shoulders, pushing him back against the couch and straddling his lap. "You talk too much," the words come out in one rushed breath as you reach between your legs and grab the base of his cock, holding him steady as you bury him inside of you. A stifled moan escapes you as your body adjusts to his size. One hand grabs your waist, stilling any movement you might make, while the other grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him. "You alright?" You nod your head, your lips slightly pursed from how he squeezes your face.

"Good," he breathes, releasing your face. His hand drops to your chest, holding your breast. As soon as you roll your hips forward, Stan can't keep his mouth shut. "Shit, fuck," his eyes are half-lidded, head resting against the back of the couch as you ride him. "You're tight as a fuckin drum, and hotter than hell." You smile, bracing your hands against the couch as you snap your hips forward, rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

Both of his hands are on your tits, thumb brushing over the nipples. "Perfect," he mumbles out. Sweat beads across your body, Stan's hand eventually traveling downwards and finding your clit again. The moan rips from your throat as the calloused finger pads press against you, an almost aggressive rub against you - but it's exactly what your body wants. "There ya are," he practically purrs the words out as you lean down.

Your lips catch his, sloppy kisses without much care, as long as you can kiss him. Your burning in every sense of the word, body and nerves as Stan grabs your ass, timing your movements with his own thrusts. He somehow manages to go even deeper inside of you, each thrust sending another wave of pleasure through you. "Stanley!" His name is barely above a whisper as he suddenly pushes you back against the cushions, back on top of you.

He takes a leg, hiking it over his shoulder and leaning over you, your body curling slightly. His pace is merciless, whatever words you had before devolving into incoherent moans of pleasure as they spill from your lips. It's when the orgasm wrecks your body that you swear to God, you see literal stars in your vision as you cum. Your body tenses, nails digging into his forearms so hard that you're a little worried you may draw blood. Stanley, somehow, has enough sense to pull himself from you, his cock sliding against you before he cums.

Thick, milky ropes land on your stomach and tits as he slows his thrusts, breathing heavily before slumping down over you. You're catching your own breath, a hand raising to his back and gently running up and down the now sweat soaked shirt.

"You good?" He asks, his voice somehow hoarser than before.

You can't really respond, offering a thumbs up in response.

"Huh, fucked you so good you lost the ability to talk huh?" Weakly, and playfully, you slap him.

"Asshole." He snorts, removing himself from you and sitting back against the couch. He looks at you. Then the mess on you. "Where's your shower?"

"Bathroom, which is in the bedroom." You yawn. Stan picks the boxes out of his khakis, sliding them on before bending beside you. "Put yer arms around me," you stare at him a moment. "C'mon, before I change my mind." You do as he says, looping your arms around his neck as his hands slide under your sweaty body, hoisting you up.

"Not too much for you, is it, old man?" You laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder.

"I can still drop you, ya know?"

"Mhmm." You mumblr. He feigns the drop, your grip tightening on him.

"Gotcha." He winks at you, but at this point, you're too tired to really fight back. Stan manages to open the door to your room and find the bathroom, setting you on the closed toilet. He reaches into the shower, turning the knobs and keeping his hand in for a moment. "You want it on the hotter or colder side?"

"Uh, hotter." The question catches you off guard.

"Figures, every woman wants it hot as hell." He adjusts the knob behind the curtain, taking it back and shaking off the water. "What?" He asks, raising a brow as you make a face at him.

"Just, uh..." again, you're trying to avoid sounding like an asshole. "Didn't expect aftercare?

"I may be a lot of things, and one of those things may be an asshole, but I'm not that big of an asshole." He sets his hands on his hips and you can't help but snort a giggle. "Up." he tells you, offering an arm. You stand on wobbly legs, leaning against him.

"Not sure how this is gonna work." You admit. "Kinda feel like a newborn deer."

"I'm gonna help you," he says. "Also, get a new metaphor."

"That's a simile."

"Oh, look at me, I paid attention in English." He mocks in a joking tone. "Just.. stand here." You do as your told, watching as he unbuttons his top and shakes it off, revealing the sweat covered girdle that's still wrapped around his waist. "You kept that on the whole time?" That's...kind of impressive.

"Done a lot more uncomfortable things, sweetheart." He says. He drops the girdle on your bathroom floor, gesturing for you to get in the shower. You do, Stan offering his arm for support as he follows you in shortly after. He keeps an arm around you, just below your breasts, in case you slip.

It does make you feel safe. You take the washcloth, soaping it up and slowly begin to scrub your body. The hot water feels amazing on your tired body, breathing in the smell of your soap and shampoo. When you're happily scrubbed, you turn in Stan's arms. "Your turn." You say.

"What?"

"You need to get clean too," you tell him. You don't let him protest, reaching over to your shampoo and squirting a pump into your palm and scrubbing it onto his scalp. There may have been a moment of protest, but it falls off quickly. His eyes shut, letting you work as you comb through his thinning hair. You take a few steps back, turning as carefully as you can so that he's under the stream of water. You work diligently, ensuring all the soap is off before you apply the conditioner and repeat it. He's strangely quiet the entire time, and yet you notice, he's relaxed. It's the first time you think you've ever seen his body this loose.

You grab the washcloth again, soaping it up again before pressing it against his chest. Now that there's no risk of soap in his eyes, Stan cracks one of his eyes open and looks down at you. "You're sweet, y'know?"

"Mhm." You hum in response.

"Seriously," he says. His thumb and forefinger catch your chin, tilting you up to meet his gaze. He leans down, the kiss tender, soft.

There's no intent behind it than affection. Somehow, it makes you feel hotter than what happened in the kitchen. You know you have the dopiest smile on your face, but at the moment, you don't care. You drag the rag over his body, his stomach, everywhere you can as he holds you close to him. When he's finally rinsed, he turns off the shower and carefully helps you step out. A few towels later, you're dry, warm, and exhausted.

You have a few oversized t-shirts that you used to clean the house in, and you manage to find one that fits Stan. There's no way he's making it home tonight. In your own pajamas, you climb into bed as Stan sits on the side of it. "Oh this thing is way comfier than your couch, no offense." He tests the springs, looking at you. "Maybe next time we'll make it to the bed."

"I'll hold you to that," you laugh. "Not tonight, though."

"What a shame," he winks. "You, uh, actually fine with me sleeping in here?" You're getting comfortable beneath the sheets, resting your head on the pillow.

"Stan," you start. "You were literally inside me. You can sleep next to me."

"You'd be surprised how often those two things don't go hand in hand," he remarks off-handedly. Your face creases in worry, about to sit up before he reaches out and pushes you back down. "Story for another day." He pulls the sheets back, sliding in beside you and staring up at the ceiling. A shiver runs through you, scooting closer to him and hooking a leg over his. He raises an arm, putting it behind you so that you're able to rest your head against his chest. "Don't get used to this," you know he doesn't mean a word of that.

"Goodnight, Stan." You stretch, placing a kiss on his cheek. You settle back down, shutting your eyes.

Gently, you feel the ghost of a kiss on the top of your head. "Goodnight."

You fall asleep to his heartbeat, something you think you'd enjoy getting used to

#gravity falls #stanley pines x reader #stan pines x reader #dw i'm still inactive but i wanted to post

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httyd-art-requests · 17 days ago

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Heya! I wasn't sure if this was a legal request since it wasnt listed in your bio, but it is an official httyd video game

I'd love to see the goofy guy Patch from dawn of new riders! Chimeragons really made one appearance, became way too op, and then disappeared into obscurity. But look at the guy...he so ugly and goofy I love him

Your art is gorgeous btw!

( @yuendelahoya )

So funny story. I watched a playthrough of this game when it first came out in 2019, and it's been on my wish list ever since (mostly because of the flight mechanics lol) And now that I found these asks in my inbox again, I checked the Nintendo Store just in case, and it had a 55% discount??? So I got the game and spent the last 2 days playing it and now I'm a changed man (as of posting this, the discount lasts for 2 more days!)

Dragon #125 - MLM Patch (and Scribbler)

I hope they're doing well, wherever they are...

More thoughts and spoilers for the game under the cut!

I made Patch MLM colored instead of some other random Chimeragon, because the game has shown us that he can change colors with every rebirth, which I think is pretty neat :) It also explains why neither Scribbler nor Eir recognize Patch, even after he grows to be a Broadwing and then a Titanwing- if he changes his colors every time he hatches again, then yeah, no wonder they believed there's more than one Chimeragon

I knew what the big twist was going to be at the end because of the playthrough, but MAN does this game not hold its punches. The writers really asked "How can we elevate the Best Friends Forever thing to a whole new level?" and then made Scribbler witness the death and rebirth of his best friend, and now I have to draw these guys with literal tears in my eyes 👍

The sentiment that their friendship literally transcends life and death is so meaningful to me. Patch will continue to die and resurrect, and Scribbler will be there every time to welcome him and forge their bond all over again. The mystery of Scribbler's past, his involvement with Grimmel, and the open ending leave so much room for speculation and theorizing and it's just so incredibly up my alley, it's like it was made in a lab for me lol

This game ended up being a lot darker than I was expecting, but it was honestly so refreshing. The mechanics are simple enough for younger kids to learn, and the artstyle is very evidently targeted at kids as well, but some of the dialogue and the entire theme of death and inevitable loss feels surprisingly mature in contrast. They make you go to Vanaheim and hold a burial for Patch before he resurrects, literally what other kids' game does that?? /pos

Anyways play this game, it's a short and sweet little self-contained adventure, which accomplishes the one task it set out to accomplish: making me cry, specifically

#asks #httyd #how to train your dragon #httyd fanart #dragon request #thank you for the request! <3 #httyd chimeragon #dragons: dawn of new riders #dragon 124 #httyd patch #httyd scribbler #and yes #the flight mechanics are indeed pretty cool

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kawaiiwritingcomputer · 7 months ago

Note

Hey hey idk if you're doing requests at the moment but can I have yandere poly (if you're comfy doing poly) scooby gang with a gentle giant female s/o? Like she towers over the whole gang but doesn't like violence unless necessary.

She's like that one meme

"Normaly I'm the healer but... not today" *pulls out a gun*

Thanks if you do this!!

🍄: i don’t write poly,,, but i cannot not write this. i love poly scooby gang in general! thank YOU for this request :3 im writing this as reader is willing as well 😭 i cannot imagine gentle giant resisting nor can i imagine the gang being tooo dubious

Poly!yandere!Scoobygang x giant!Reader:

let’s start with all of them are enamored with how tall you are !!!

you’re always sitting in the back with shaggy and scooby, sometimes making freddy jealous

they all argue over how they’re going to split up and find clues with you

You sit there chilling like ☺️ guys we take turns

sometimes Shaggy wins bc if the particular mystery is super scary, Scooby refuses to go without you

sometimes Velma will come with you and shaggy and scooby to tag along

Normally daphne and fred would be like :( without velma or you but they sometimes don’t mind the alone time either

and vice versa as well when its just shaggy and velma (and scooby ofc but yk dog)

shaggy gets shy around your tall nature and will sometimes pretend to be brave with scooby to protect you but he always ends up jumping in your arms

speaking of jumping into your arms lol 😭 the cut scenes of when you guys are running around trying to run away from the ghoul you guys are trying to debunk: at some point you do end up carrying all five of them in your arms

they all swoon

you help Fred make his traps when he needs to reach certain places.

you and daphne listen to his ramblings while helping him with it

Daphne is your personal stylist ofc

She cannot have one of her cuties being raggedy! Shaggy has the shaggy look down and it’s cute in him, but anyone else? puh-lease!

ofc her daddy’s and mommy’s money pays for your customized clothes bc of your height. sometimes it’s hard to shop lol

Velma is the shyest around you

whether you’re lanky like shaggy or muscular johnny bravo

girl swoons over you literally. she loves going to libraries with you and watching you grab her books for her

Shaggy can too tbh but he likes eating more than reading so you’re taken to the library instead

Shaggy cooks for everyone (canon, sometimes fred joins) but he makes your food portions just like his 😭

big sandwiches and ridiculous toppings and all! unless you have preferences, then scooby will be like “ruh-uh (Y/N) doesn’t like that!”

Scooby stays near you and shaggy as a given

love the personal headcanon that he’ll give you and shaggy warnings if you guys don’t see something that can hurt you guys

so quite literally the look out dog for you

kinda funny how you’re seen as the intimidating one bc your height but it’s literally the whole gang everyone has to worry about 😭

god forbid anyone makes you tear up

the whole gang is pulling up with their personal weapon of choice

Daphne doesn’t even need a weapon 🙏🏽 she just karate kicks them in the throat and then hands you her handkerchief (she keeps it)

sometimes with daphne or velma being taken as hostage, that’s when you put on the brave face to find them by yourself

much to the boys dismay when they realize you disappear too leaving it to shaggy to find the ghoul with you chasing you

“Found them Freddy!”

“Where’d you put Daphne/Velma monster!” is your shout as you continue to chase

“I’ll build trap!”

You hear Freddy and shaggy and set trap up

sometimes it changes but it goes something like that every now and then

with how willing you with the gang and the adventures, you almost forget they’re yandere for you

until it’s time to split up again or it’s time to figure out who gets to sleep next to you (they’re all jealous of scooby for being a dog and being able to sleep on your legs)

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kayleighwinchester · 5 months ago

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Five Things You Know About Dean Winchester - and One You Don't: I

((Alright, here we go! The start of a slightly bigger project - but still for @artyandink's Jensen-a-Thon! I debated on the best way to post this, whether it should be in parts or all in one, and I've decided to do parts. I remember when I was on Tumblr last, the 'five things you do/one you don't' format was super popular, so here's my take on that! This, again, is in the same general -verse as Downpour, Rocks and Rom Coms, and Long Story! As always, enjoy! Feedback is always welcome!)) Dean Winchester was a mystery.

It was one you were slowly unraveling bit by bit, visit by visit; he would climb in your window every month or so, stay a few days, and disappear again by the end of the week – but slowly, you were learning about him, about who he was, beyond the charismatic smile and easy, confident attitude.

The first thing you learned – really learned, beyond the charisma and charm – about Dean came after an evening with a few too many glasses of wine. You’d gotten home from your last class of the day before summer break to find Dean rummaging through your fridge, and he’d very helpfully informed you that your A/C was out. As the day drew into evening, and the temperature outside began to drop a few degrees, you’d settled in on the grass in the back yard with a bottle of wine to enjoy the breeze rather than suffer indoors, waiting for the house to cool down to a tolerable temperature.

“I don’t think I could do it,” He said, leaning back on one elbow. “The whole college thing. Think I’d go nuts.” You got the distinct impression, both from his tone, and the wry, humorless smirk that flashed across his lips, that he had far more colorful language for what he’d do, but opted to go the more diplomatic route, if only for your sake. He took a drink of his wine, glancing down at the glass with a pensive expression. Admittedly, he didn’t seem like a wine kind of guy – whenever he’d come bearing alcohol, it was always beer or hard liquor. Nonetheless, he took to it with relative grace – though not without a decent amount of teasing thrown your way, first.

“What’d’you mean?” You glanced his way, his thoughtful expression a welcome distraction from the relatively boring sight of your backyard.

“Not really the brains of my family, y’know? That’s Sammy.” He didn’t elaborate on who Sammy was, and with how often he clammed up the moment his family was mentioned, you opted not to ask. “I was always better at the other stuff.” He’d never been this upfront about his past; maybe it was the alcohol loosening his tongue. Maybe he just trusted you a bit more now, after a year of – well, whatever it was you two were doing. “I mean, one of the earliest memories I got with my Dad is shootin’ beer bottles off a fence.”

“Were you any good?” You asked, not sure if he was being entirely serious - he gave a wry grin, glancing your way.

“Got every one of ‘em.” He said proudly, but you could see that pride tempered with just a bit of something else that you couldn’t quite place – something you weren’t sure you liked. He glanced back down into his glass, staring at the wine once more. “I’m good at that kind’a stuff, y’know? Not –...” He waved a hand back toward your bedroom window – you knew he was aiming for your desk, your textbooks.

You didn’t entirely understand what ‘that kind’a stuff’ entailed; the shooting, sure, but that seemed like a relatively self-contained skill. Still, it didn’t seem like he particularly wanted that part of the conversation to continue, and you could see the tension you hadn’t even realized had built up in his shoulders slowly ease as you offered,

“You know I’ve never even held a gun?”

It was like prompting a kid to talk about their favorite TV show. He hesitated for a moment, green eyes searching yours, as if gauging if you were actually interested, or simply trying to change the subject. Apparently, he was satisfied with what he saw – he launched into what you were sure was the most detailed and enthusiastic explanation of the basics of firearms and firearm safety he could possibly give, one that you, even with your lack of knowledge, could easily follow – even carefully retrieving the silver pistol from the back of his waistband.

That – his simple, straightforward explanation, in and of itself, was a talent – breaking something down to such bare-bones basics that anyone could understand. It was a skill that not everyone had – you’d learned as much very quickly in your first two years of college. He made it seem easy. You’d seen it already, the first time you’d asked him for help with your car – he’d absently explained what he was doing as he did it, why it was making that weird-ass fucking noise – but this was another beast entirely.

He caught your eye, and, admittedly, you hadn’t even realized you’d been staring at him. “What?” He asked, the beginnings of a sheepish smile curling onto his lips.

“Nothing.” You said quickly, eyes shifting down to the gun in his lap, taking in the engraved silver and the mother-of-pearl grips, all shimmering just ever so slightly in the fading evening light. “Just –... You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for, you know that?”

You weren’t sure you’d ever seen Dean smile – genuinely smile – so wide, or his cheeks flush so red.

#supernatural fanfiction #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #supernatural x reader #dean winchester fanfiction

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schrijverr · 1 year ago

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Batman Fatale

While on a mission with the Justice League, Batman (who hasn’t revealed his secret identity) pulls out his Brucie voice, shocking the others.

Inspired by Head Problems by That_One_Curly_Haired_Fangirl on AO3.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~

The Justice League is going for stealth, something Bruce didn’t think they were capable off, but so far he’s been pleasantly surprised. Though, maybe the promise of a good brawl later is what is keeping them quiet.

They’re infiltrating into Luthor’s office, underneath which he is building a robot army to overtake the world in the name of peace. Hacking in to disable them means sounding the alarm and Bruce has already calculated that it will take too long for him not to get swarmed by them, before he can take them out. Hence, the League, who will keep them off his back while he works.

However, they’ve run into a bit of roadblock in the form of the security guard, who is manning the front desk during the night shift.

Everyone has thrown out ideas to take him out, but Bruce wants to attract attention as late as possible and there are likely human operatives further down as well. They’ll notice if the guard were to disappear.

Besides, the guy, Amir, cleared his background check when he was planning this mission. He doesn’t know what he’s guarding and is just trying to make ends meat.

So, he holds up his hand and the whispered deliberation quiets down. As he pulls out his phone, he says: “I’ll handle this. Wait for my orders.”

They all shoot him confused and wary looks as he sets to dialing on his phone, keeping the screen away from them. He can say that it hurts that they don’t fully trust him, but he doesn’t care. He has his own family/team back in Gotham and if being a mysterious prick keeps his kids safe, he’ll gladly play the part.

He knew this roadblock might come up, so he prepared in advance. So, within seconds he is bringing the phone to his ear, while the others continue to look between him and the guard that’s on the other side of the glass doors.

Bruce mentally laughs, they probably expect assassins to swoop down and drag the man into the shadows.

Which is the opposite of what happens, because instead Amir startles then looks down at his now ringing phone. He smiles, then looks around a bit, checking that the coast is clear and completely missing the League, before picking up.

As Amir looks around, Hal hisses: “What the hell are you doing, Spooks? You don’t call the guy you wanna sneak-”

He shuts him up with a hand over his mouth, because Amir has picked up now. “Hey, hi, uhm, how are you doing, John?”

John is the fake name he used on the dating profile with the doctored photos. He feels a little bad about catfishing him, it’s slimy and Amir is actually cute too. Still, can’t be helped, so he puts as much Brucie charm into his voice as he flirty replies: “Hi, Amir, I’m good, just lonely. Would be better if you were with me. I’m practically indecent here for you.”

Immediately all the League’s heads snap his way, but he ignores them in favor of observing Amir. He is blushing, but looks pleased, before he sags a little. “I would love you, you’re so handsome-”

“I’d prefer pretty,” Bruce interrupts. “If you’re letting me down, at least call me pretty so I’ll know what it’ll sound like from you.”

Now Amir’s darker skin gets even more dark as he continues to blush. He stammers: “No, no, no. Not letting you down. Fuck. You’re so pretty, John. Of course I’m not letting you down. I’m just working, pretty boy, just working.”

“Booo,” Bruce whines, knowing how to sound appealing instead of annoying, albeit a little spoiled. “Can’t you just have a little break? Where do you work? I can come over, little blowie in the ally on a smoke break never hurt anybody.”

Amir groans at the offer, leaning back in his chair and looking at the ceiling, feeling a little despair by the look on his face. “I could get fired,” he protests, but it’s weak. Got him.

Bruce knows that he’s going to get fired anyway for letting them pass, but at least like this he’s out of harm’s way. He’s planning on offering him a job anyway. So, he insists again: “Promise I’ll get you off before they notice. It’ll tide me over until they let you go and you can show me what a proper good time is.”

Now Amir is looking around, no one except the League (who are all still staring and he wishes they’d stop) to see. So, he relents: “Alright, I work at the Luthor office. Uptown, you know it?”

“Oh my god, you’re kidding?” Bruce laughs in his most ditzy Brucie voice. “I’m literally at one of the bars down the street.”

“And what are you doing there?” Amir asks, trying to sound flirty, but coming across as a little insecure. It’s cute on him.

Bruce imagines himself twirling the phone cord at this point as he bats his eyes through his voice as he says: “Feeling lonely and thinking about you.”

Amir looks relieved at that, straightening up again as he asks: “Well, I can change one part of that for you. How fast can you get here?”

“Like two minutes,” Bruce answers.

“Meet you in the alley on the left then,” Amir says. “See you soon.”

“See you soon, handsome,” Bruce greets back, before hanging up. The second the line is dead, he reverts back to Batman’s voice and grunts: “Get ready to move.”

“What the fuck was that, Batman!” Hal is unsurprisingly the first to break. He never does know how to keep his mouth shut during stealth missions.

“Are you still Batman? Please tell me you’re still Batman. Because if you’ve been replaced by some alien, shape shifter or pod person, I don’t know what to do with myself. So you have to be Batman, even though Batman is creepy and mean and stand-offish and not flirty and-”

“Flash, quiet,” Bruce cuts of the rambling of the speedster. He’s not in the mood.

“You can at least tell us how you know the guard,” Clark speaks up, going for firm leader. Bruce can respect him for trying to lead these people who are all obviously not used to working as a team nor good at it. But the boy scout act sometimes gets on Bruce’s nerves.

He’s sure his kids and Alfred will have something to say about it, pointing to his trust issues that makes him perceive everything as an interrogation, but they aren’t here right now. Plus, he knows Damian at least will be on his side. He has people in his camp.

… Though that might not be a good thing. Hm, should he talk to Damian about it?

“It seems familiar somehow,” Oliver comments and Bruce hopes Amir moves soon. The last thing he wants is for Ollie to figure out who is under the cowl, the man is insufferable enough as it is.

“Batman?” Clark prompts, apparently he’s been quiet for long enough.

Falling back on one of his contingencies, he says: “Everyone should have skills in the acting and grifting department. Contact is sometimes unavoidable. I study people and I plan ahead. This is planning ahead.”

Right at that moment, Amir finally moves. Bruce feels a little bad about standing him up, but is glad to grapple away from the rest of the League. He hopes there will be a fight soon, because that way no one can ask him more questions.

#rr writing #batman #bruce wayne #brucie wayne #clark kent #superman #hal jordan #green latern #green arrow #oliver queen #flash #barry allen #justice league #jl #jla #dc #dc comics

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tame-the-lion-writes · 2 months ago

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Chapter I - Introduction

[michael afton x reader] you -- always you

content warning: (these are implied/referenced) character death, self-harm, underage drinking

tags: GN!reader, romance, fix-it of sorts, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, domestic fluff, friends to lovers, eventual happy ending

Michael Afton. He wasn’t exactly a picture perfect poster boy. Not with a past that everyone seemed to know about.

“I heard he started chain smoking cigarettes at thirteen.”

“I heard his dad had to pay off the cops after he got caught dealing drugs.”

“I heard he murdered his little brother.”

Okay, now that – that last one was the only thing you could half verify. Apparently, some freak accident combined with a twelve year old’s underestimation of robot jaws had branded Michael a cold blooded murderer. It didn’t help that in the years following, kids continued to disappear. Now he was the villain from a slasher film. A monster wrought from birth. The one bad guy in the less-than-twenty-thousand population of Hurricane, Utah.

Honestly, it was pretty pitiful.

As far as you could tell, from both newspaper articles and the way he slumped over – prominent eyebags a shocking grey – in class every single day, this man – no, this boy – was certainly not a killer. If anything, the way he naturally carried himself in silence or half-hearted snarkiness seemed evidence enough to you that he had regretted the ordeal from years before. It wasn’t evidence enough to other staff or students, of course, who held their long-drawn prejudices, but as for you – a newcomer from California whose parents decided to dump themselves in the middle of fuck knows where – you simply didn’t have that pre-existing impression. And so, you thought, maybe he just needed someone – anyone – to reach out and say hello.

So you did.

Ah, yes – the American high school cafeteria. The place where friendships can be summed up in – “make it or break it.” The place where whatever the hell is on the plate is called food. In Michael’s case, it’s a hodgepodge of unsweetened grey slurry, an overly greasy pizza, and an apple. The apple doesn’t look all too appetizing either.

It’s here, amongst crackled blue tables that Michael sits in solitude, poking the mystery sludge with a spork before deciding not to risk his life for a taste. Thus, with a sigh, the plastic utensil is quickly tossed aside – only to be interrupted by your question.

“Can I sit here?”

His eyes snap up from his cardboard lunch tray.

“Sorry?”

“I was just wondering if I could join you.”

The word “if” lingers for a while on your tongue, debating halfway through if this was a good idea. Yes, you took him as lonely, but not the type of lonely that was ready to be friendly, even if he desperately needed a friend. That hesitance was clear now, in the way his bluish-grey eyes rake over you, squinting with a brow furrowed more than usual.

“Is this some sort of prank?--”

There’s the slight tinge of a British accent as he speaks, but you aren’t able to process it before you interrupt.

“No, it’s not. It’s just– well, I’m new, and it’s kind of weird shoving myself into other groups when everyone’s known each other since elementary.”

“So you decided – hey – stick with the delinquent?”

“Okay, I’m from California. I’ve seen delinquents. Trust me, you don’t seem half bad.”

At this point, you don’t even wait for his answer and plop right down in front of him. He makes an obvious scowl, and for a moment, his hands reach forward to pick up his tray and move elsewhere, but you guess that at some point, he remembers there’s no other empty table to sit at. If he wants to be alone, it’s either alone with you or in some annoying teacher’s classroom. And the latter would be even more awkward.

Fine. He’ll deal with it.

“You’re not very conversational, are you?”

All he does is grunt in response.

But hey!-- at least he’s not chasing you off.

You take this as an absolute win. Your comment earlier, about shoving yourself into other groups, was largely accurate. Though you had made acquaintances with a few kids, they were just that – acquaintances. The kind of people you ask for help on a problem or lend notes to when they’re absent. Not the kind of people you feel comfortable going out on a shopping trip with. Not yet, at least. And to fully insert yourself into a tight-knit clique of people who grew up together? No way. No way in hell. So, unironically, the most unfriendly person would be your best bet at making a lasting friendship. This late in the game, at least.

The rest of lunch is quiet, at least until the last five minutes. You don’t try to pester him anymore than you already have, and for that, he seems grateful. At some point, he stops sending you disgruntled glares and relaxes, settling instead for an utter lack of consideration. You try to imitate the same disinterest – eating your home-packed food in silence, occupying yourself with idle doodles.

That last thing, he eventually took note of..

“You draw?”

“Well, look at that. We’ve got ourselves an extrovert.”

He snorts yet surprises you when he leans forward to get a better look at the half-unfinished homework you have on the table. In the corner, you’ve started sketching in lazy graphite – just small things like messy butterflies and eyes and flowers. Disjointed and pointless and done for the sake of filling in space rather than showing off.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning on copying my calc homework,” you tease lightly, tugging the paper back towards you.

At that, he actually grins.

“Ha– why would I when you got the derivative for sine-x wrong?”

“I– what?”

He taps the second question on your math homework, where sure enough – you’ve gotten things mixed up. I mean, of course you did – you might’ve been in Calc BC, but that didn’t mean you actually knew the stuff. Barely anybody did. But him, apparently.

And he found the mistake in – what – two seconds?

The confusion on your face must be obvious with the way he chuckles and leans back again, crossing his arms.

“Surprised I got a brain?”

“No. I’m surprised you’ve got a mega-brain. I’m in the only Calc BC class, and you’re not even in it.”

“Mega-brain?”

“Shut up – I don’t know how else to word it.”

You quickly flip the pencil in your hand to erase the mistake and replace what you’d gotten wrong with the equation. Stupid – fucking – Calc BC. You didn’t even know why you were taking the class when everyone in Hurricane had a future in entry-level customer service. You don’t need rocket science to add dollar bills and cents together. At least Michael is amused, finishing up the one apple he has before sliding the core and the cardboard tray away.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. My father’s an engineering genius. My ability to math is probably the one good I got from him.”

“You call him a whole-ass ‘father?’ Not ‘dad?’”

“Like I said, the one good. His brain is all he’s good for, anyway.”

You nod in acceptance at his comment, but the thought of his father makes you realize that his last name is familiar. Not him familiar, but someone else familiar. Afton. Afton. Oh!--

“Your dad’s the one who owns Fazbear Entertainment!”

The moment your eyes light up in recognition, he shrinks back, cringing.

“Co-owns. But yeah, he does.”

Seeing the way he shrivels, your excitement wavers before falling flat. Ah – right – Freddy Fazbear’s Diner was where…

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

“It’s fine.”

“I just– well, you know, the franchise is pretty popular and–”

“Like I said – it’s fine. It happened years ago. Not like I can avoid the damn place anyway. Father pretty much forces me to work there, so I’m surrounded by shit either way.” He runs a hand through his hair then lets it rest on his neck as he looks away. “And besides, I kinda expected it to be brought up at some point in our conversation.”

“... Right. Right.”

He picks up your guilt with ease, seen as you were so loud and were now so regrettably quiet. What a switch of roles.

He clears his throat.

“Well, off topic, but your drawings are nice.”

You take the change of pace with a grateful smile. “Thanks, I guess. I’ve seen you draw in class, though. I’m nothing compared to you.”

The compliment pricks at him like a needle full of serotonin. Strange to take but pleasant to have. He looks away again – this time for other reasons. “Thanks. I didn’t realize we shared a class.”

You shrug and start shuffling your leftover food back into your lunch pail. “English, actually. I like what we read well enough but Davids is just insufferable,” you grin. “I can’t help but let my eyes wander around when I’m in class. And you and your drawings are the most eye-catching thing in there.”

“Oh. Thanks. Wait, did you say I–”

The bell rings halfway through his sentence, prompting you to stand and sling your backpack over your shoulder. Knowing you’ll have to rush to the opposite end of campus keeps you distracted from your little Freudian slip, and soon enough, you’re hurrying away.

“I’ll see you in Davids’! And you better move to Calc BC!”

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myveryownfanfiction · 16 days ago

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18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @iobsessoverfictionalmen, @lulusplaycorner, @psychokinetic-ectoplasm, @theselfshippingwitch

warnings: swearing, ghosts, peters failed attempts at flirting are mentioned

“Dana?” I asked as I saw her on the street in front of our apartment building. “What’s wrong?”

“my eggs…cooked…” she panted as she stared at the building.

“On the counter.” I finished as I stared at her. “I was making cookies and they just…”

“jumped out of their shells.” She finished. I nodded. “What the fuck is going on?” I shrugged.

“I have no idea.” I looked up at the building too, a chill running through me as I did. “Considering we’re both not staying here did you want to split a hotel room?” I asked, finally looking at her.

“yeah. But where going to have to go shopping. I won’t go back to pack a bag.” She said. I looped my arm through hers and turned us towards the nearest clothing store.

“just an excuse to update our wardrobes.” I breathed out as another chill went through me. By the time we’d finished shopping and got a room, it was night. Almost a week later, I was watching the tv as Dana got out of the shower. “Have you seen these guys?” I asked, pointing to the tv.

“the ghostbusters.” Dana nodded. “When my tv was left on when I went out. Kind of cheesy don’t you think?”

“I don’t know.” I said as one of them peeked out of the door with a bright smile. “Maybe they’re the ones that can help us.” I turned to look at her with a frown. “There’s no other explanation for what happened. Maybe they can…” Dana sat down on her bed as he dried her hair.

“yeah. Maybe.” She said softly. “Tomorrow?” I nodded.

“tomorrow.” I agreed. The next day, we walked down the street to where the firehouse was. “Interesting place to set up shop. Middle of tribecca.” Dana shrugged.

“I don’t care. As long as I get back to my apartment.” She sighed. We walked through the open door and I looked around. The hearse sitting in the middle of the room made me pause, the man laying on a shop towel pausing what he was doing to look at Dana as she passed. I snuck a peek at his ass as I paused next to the hearse. He turned back to the engine, cigarette nearly falling out of his mouth when he saw me.

“oh hello.” He said. I smiled shyly at him.

“hi. Are you a ghostbuster?” I asked. A commotion at the other end of the room made us both look up as Dana was greeted by another man.

“uh yeah i am. That’s Dr. Peter venkman. I’m Dr. ray stantz.” He said, sliding off the engine block and standing before me.

“I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” I said, continuing to stare at him.

“I’d shake your hand but…” he smiled softly at me as he flexed his hand and I felt my nerves disappearing.

“totally understandable.” I responded. We continued staring at each other before I remembered why I was there. “I think maybe I have a ghost problem. I’m not sure though.” I rubbed the back of my neck as I pulled my eyes away from his mismatched ones.

“well why don’t you explain what happened and we’ll figure it out. Let me go get our third member and I��ll clean up. Janine,” he turned to the receptionist and motioned me over. “Could you please get (Y/N) a water or coke or something and show her up in say ten minutes?” Ray glanced over at Dana who was trying to explain her problem to Peter. “I’ll uh get Peter away from your friend.” I giggled as Janine rolled her eyes.

“you’re our first customers and peter seems hell bent on chasing your friend away.” She sighed.

“Dana’s a big girl she can take it.” I joked. Janine smiled at me. “Whatever’s in our apartments though…” I sighed and looked down. “That’s just freaky.”

“I can assure you Dr. stantz and Dr. Spengler will have the up most care while taking care of this.” She said. “Dr. Venkman…well…” I laughed and smiled at her as she stood up. “They should be ready for you by now.” I nodded and waved Dana over.

“you ok?” I asked as we trudged up the stairs behind Janine.

“had worse.” She teased. “In fact if I remember correctly I threw out one of your dates when he wouldn’t get the picture.” I laughed and nodded. “But that one you were talking to…” she bumped my shoulder. “I think he’d get it.”

“calm down Dana.” I laughed. “I’m not in the market right now.”

“you never know…” Dana said as we entered the lab. Ray smiled at em as soon as he saw me and motioned to the seat next to the couch. Peter made a beeline for Dana. I ducked behind her before Peter knocked me over.

“why don’t you tell us what happened?” Ray said as egon started examining Dana. “I’m sure it’s a similar story.” He shor egon a look before focusing on me again. He sat down next to me while opening a beer can.

“drinking on the job Dr. stantz?” I laughed. He shrugged with a smile as he took a drink. “I did that I’d be fired.”

“perks of owning your own business.” Ray laughed.

“I guess.” I smiled. I glanced at Dana as Peter and egon started asking her questions. I sighed and shook my head. “It all started when I was making a cookies a week ago. Everything was out on the counter. The carton of eggs opened on its own. They started to shake and just exploded. Don’t get me wrong I thought maybe it was natural gas or they’d gone bad or something. But then it got weird.” Ray furrowed his eyebrows and shifted in his seat.

“weird how?” He asked, leaning closer to me.

“they cooked on my granite countertop.” I said. Ray blinked in surprise. “Yeah. And then there was a noise from my fridge. Like a growling. When I opened it, there was a figure and a bright light. I didn’t catch what it said because I screamed and slammed the door. Ran outside and ran into Dana who said the same thing happened to her.” Ray blinked as he thought. Leaning back, he looked over at egon who had sat down next to him at some point.

“what do you think it is?” Ray asked. Egon shrugged. “Past life experience intruding on present time?” Egon nodded.

“Could be race memory stored in the collective unconscious. I wouldn't rule out clairvoyance or telepathic contact either.” he added. Dana said something but ray leaned closer and said something first.

“would you be opposed to me coming over to check out the apartment?” He asked. “I want to get some readings before making a decision on what it is.” I nodded.

“I’m ok with that.” I said. Dana was collecting her things as Peter followed her. “Guess they’re heading over too.” Ray nodded and helped me up. The four of us walked back to the apartment; peter continuing to hit on Dana as we went. Ray rolled his eyes next to me. “This happen often?” I whispered. Ray nodded.

“every other week.” He said. “It used to be graduate students. Now that we got kicked out of Columbia he’s hitting on anything that moves.”

“I feel like I should be offended by that.” I said. Ray frowned.

“no…I didn’t mean…it’s not…” he stuttered. I chuckled and patted his arm.

“I understand.” I assured him. He breathed a sigh of relief just as we entered the apartment building. Dana took Peter up the stairs while I led ray to the elevator. “Easier.” I shrugged as we rode up. I led ray down to my apartment and rolled my eyes as Luis opened his door. “Door Luis!” I called before it slammed. I could tell he caught it by the lack of grumbling. Ray followed me into my apartment, watching as I wrapped my arms around myself.

“do you normally have the temperature set this low?” Ray asked. I shook my head, glancing at the thermostat before setting it up again.

“I have no idea how it went down so low.” I said. Ray looked around the room, holding a black object in front of him as he explored. “What is that?”

“A pke meter. It measures the level of psychokinetic energy in an area. But what’s funny is it’s not reading anything.” He frowned at the meter. “You sure…”

“oh now you question my story?” I said, a small smile of my face. Ray blushed as he turned to face me.

“no. It’s just strange that there are no readings whatsoever.” Ray tapped the machine before looking around. “Where’s the kitchen?”

“this way.” I led him into my kitchen and pushed the door open. “Forgive me for uh not following…” ray nodded and entered the room. I looked around from the doorway.

“these the eggs?” I nodded as ray picked one up after scanning it. “I always preferred scrambled but I guess…” he trailed off as he scrunched up his nose at the smell. “Right. Been a week. Gonna wanna get new groceries.” I nodded as I watched him move towards the fridge. “Whatever was here has moved on. I think. I’m not getting any readings.” Ray held out his free hand and I stared at it. “Only if you want to.” I swallowed before taking his hand. He gently led me into the room.

“how can you be sure it moved on?” I asked. Ray nodded.

“I’d have to come back. Probably with egon. And we’d do a full check. More equipment. Not a single corner untouched.” He said. “That is if there isn’t anything in the fridge.” I nodded as ray opened the door and scanned with the pke as I stared in awe at the empty fridge.

“what the fuck?” I whispered. “There’s nothing here.” I let go of rays hand to push the ice cube tray out of the way. “I’m not crazy I swear. There was a building of some sort and a figure and bright lights and…” I took a deep breath and brushed my hand over my forehead. “I can’t believe this.” I left my kitchen and sat down on my couch, head in my hands. “This isn’t happening. I can’t believe this. It can’t be happening.” I whispered. I felt ray touch my knee and I looked up.

“you’re not crazy. I don’t think you’re crazy.” He said softly. “It must have just moved on. I’ll come back with egon. We’ll go over everything and make sure but I think whatever it was is gone now.” I ran a hand down my face as he squeezed my knee. “I’ll get to the bottom of this (Y/N).” I nodded and took a deep breath.

“ok. Yeah.” I agreed. “I’m sorry for wasting your time ray.” He smiled at me as he stood up.

“you didn’t waste my time.” He assured me. “I’ll look into what you saw. Maybe there’s something there. If I find anything even after egon and I make our sweep I’ll let you know.” I nodded as I wiped away a tear, following him to my door.

“thanks ray.” I said, opening it for him. “I’ll check in with Dana when Peter leaves.” Ray chuckled.

“I’ll drag him out if he hasn’t left already.” He patted my arm. “Call us if anything happens in the meantime.” I nodded with a smile.

“I will.” I assured him as he left. I locked the door behind him and took a deep breath. “Here’s hoping.”

#Ray stantz #ray stantz x reader #ray stantz fanfic #ray stantz fanfiction #ray stantz imagine #Dan aykroyd #dan aykroyd x reader #Dan aykroyd fanfic #Dan aykroyd fanfiction #Dan aykroyd imagine #are you a god?#Are you a god? Series

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nikkento-writes · 2 months ago

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Hi everyone! In celebration of the end of summer, I'm challenging myself to write a few different one-shots inspired by songs that I've personally had on repeat all summer. All of these works will contain smut, so please note the content warnings prior to reading and minors do not interact. Hope you enjoy!

Toro! Toro! by Remi Wolf [Aoi Todo x f!reader] Breaking news! International up-and-coming pop princess Luna Lux is causing quite the stir with her alleged boyfriend! Witnesses say the two were having loud sex well into the night until hotel staff had to take matters into their own hands. But who is this mystery fellow? Despite multiple accounts of being heard doing the deed behind closed doors, the pop star’s supposed boy toy continues to elude being seen by both the media and even her own manager! With his knack for disappearing into thin air, it sounds like this stud is a real sorcerer!

Too Sweet by Hozier [Kishibe x f!reader] (coming soon) When Kishibe's apartment gets flooded by a burst pipe, his underling from work, always eager to curry favor with the senior Devil Hunter, suggests he stays with you, the older sister, completely free of charge and without warning. Now, you're forced to temporarily live with the curmudgeon Devil Hunter who always comes home late, reeking of booze and women's perfume. Kishibe also has a hard time adjusting to living with a roommate, especially one as virtuous and wholesome as you. He soon finds out firsthand just how sweet you can be.

guess by charli xcx [Toji Fushiguro x f!reader] (coming soon) Your next-door neighbor is a pervert. You had your suspicions already with so many of your panties mysteriously missing every time you hang them on the clothesline of your balcony. Now you're absolutely certain since you caught him red-handed, literally, with your favorite red lacey lingerie bunched in his fist. Sure, maybe you kinda sorta wanted him to steal them, but still. He needs to be punished.

Diet Pepsi by Addison Rae [Takuma Ino x f!reader] (coming soon) Ever since you were kids, your older brother's best friend has always been dependable; that's just one of the many reasons why you have the fattest crush on him. You'll never confess to him though, convinced that your love is unrequited. When he offers to give you a ride home from university, the car breaks down halfway into the trip, leaving the two of you stuck until the tow truck arrives in over an hour. In the backseat of his car, Ino surprises you by showing that your unrequited love isn't that at all.

Check by Flo [Nanami Kento x f!reader] (coming soon) After nearly six months of dating, you finally feel confident enough to tell your friends about the new guy you're seeing. Of course, given your track record, they're skeptical. They have no problem listing the number of duds you've unfortunately fallen for in the past and you try to dispel their worries to no avail. Now, with doubts planted in your head, convinced this is all too good to be true, you go home to your boyfriend, distraught. However, like the amazing man you know he is, Nanami reassures you that there's absolutely nothing you need to worry about.

#nanami smut #kishibe smut #ino takuma smut #toji x reader #toji smut #todo smut #nanami x reader #kishibe x reader #ino x reader #ino smut #masterlist

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wishingstarinajar · 9 months ago

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I know, I know I'm a scratched record

But I'm dying to hear your thoughts on the Wakfu finale when you get to it!

I just finished watching it and it's uuh... hmm. I read people saying the finale was "satisfactory" but I am not fully on board with that sentiment.

Too much left unanswered, not enough wrapped up, too rushed to get to the end.

I know the Waven game is a continuation of sorts, it takes place decades after Wakfu's conclusion so that game might hold some answers or closure, buuuuttt... I'm not interested enough in the game to play and find out. I guess I've grown a bit tired of the whole cross-media info/lore some franchises love to do (like Blizzard and covering important info across the Warcraft games, books and short stories).

Wakfu season 4 obviously has an open ending, no matter that it is the final season, so who knows what might follow. I'm just a little saddened that the story picked up a little too late this season but the animation, particularly during action scenes, was pretty great... when not using the same static images of characters xDD They loved that a little too much but I understand the budget wasn't that big so I can't really fault Ankama for it.

Did I like this season? Mmmyyeeaaah, it's a mixed bag. Better than season 3 but not better than the first two seasons or even the OVA episodes. Glad it exists but I don't feel super satisfied with its conclusion.

HEAVY SPOILERS ahead, so be mindful but gonna share some thoughts:

Seeing Joris play a bigger part in the second half of the 4th season, and him vibing with Adamaï made me very giddy and happy. Love that for them, hope they become good friends. And thank fek neither of them died. RIP, Qilby, Armand and Brakmar (maybe?). The guys who needed to redeem themselves got their chance, at least.

Goddess Eliatrope was a big disappointment and an unlikeable character but I guess that was kind of the point...? Angry that she totally ignored Chibi and Grougal, like what the fuck even? Didn't even show a hint of acknowledgment towards them. What if they wanted to meet mom, huh?? And what even happened to Baltazar and Glip, who were in Emrub with the same kids that were asleep in Goddess Eliatrope's belly? What did she do with them?

But hey, at least my headcanon that the Sadida and Eliatropes will combine into a single kingdom/people (which I also wrote about in my Rebirth fic) actually happening was pretty satisfying x'D It even has Wakfu-infused trees, om nom nom.

A little frustrated with Necroworld (not the same Necroworld from the Transformers: Lost Light comics) because it's supposed to be a different planet in some other universe but it had dofus (dragon eggs) and races of the Twelve like Sadida, Sram and Sacrier. It was pretty confusing... Imo, it should have been something similar to The Upside Down (Stranger Things), or an alternate version of the world of Twelve rather than a completely separate place. But eh...

Why did nobody care about the state Inglorium was in, or that the Gods have disappeared? That bothered me so so so soooo much during the first two episodes; nobody non-Eliatrope or non-demigod cared that their God/Goddess was... well... gone. Aside from God Iop, where are they?? Hated the disinterest, hated the silence around it. Guess that's a mystery that will be unraveled in some other media.

Yugo grew tall and handsome and I'm not afraid to say it. Happy for him, though him suddenly growing so quickly was a bit silly. I figured there would be a time skip to justify his 'growth' that we saw in promotional images and teasers. Won't complain though, he deserved to finally be in a body that reflects his actual age, it took him long enough!

"Bootleg Alys" from the Dofus movie made a cameo in episode 11 which made me snerk. (I noticed a few more background characters from the movie that were re-used in episode 11.)

And that's all I have to say, at least here on Tumblr. It was quite a ride.

A big thanks Ankama and all the Kickbackers that made it possible; this show had its ups and downs over the past decade but it was enjoyable and loved. It still holds a special place in my heart and I will keep a tiny eye out for more Krozmos stuff in the future (like Welsh & Shedar, gimme!!).

#wakfu #wakfu season 4 #spoilers #q and a

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basedkikuenjoyer · 2 months ago

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Brick by Brick (Putting it Together)

Well, 1126 certainly ends off on a wild and very interesting note I have a lot to say about. But I don't want to bury the very interesting stuff getting there. First...hell yeah we're getting trashed on Giant absinthe! If you're unfamiliar, that is an alcohol made with a specific type of wormwood that isn't necessarily the strongest booze out there but it's unique for having hallucinogenic effects. Well, for having a reputation for that though it's exaggerated.

Still, it's important to note we're here just casually partying on the way to Elbaf given what happens next. On the way there though, we're going to continue this element of getting back to some of the side stories set up in Egghead. The lines are still very blurred in terms of whether we've finished that arc or are starting a new one. Much more than we typically see in these intermission chapters. So let's look at the two we have, remembering there are thematic ties and how they may all resonate with the title. "Payback" is an interesting term with context in this series.

Especially when we see this guy. So yeah, FWIW this chapter title is the same Kanji as the "Payback" in Payback War, where Marco led the Whitebeard Remnants in trying to get even with Blackbeard. That's not the only time we'll mention the legacy of the Whitebeard Pirates which is always something I'll take interest in when a certain one of them felt unfinished in his own arc. We still have Marco and Bakkin/Weevil's story running through Sphinx Island.

That said, the scene is interesting in its own right. BB getting onto Pizarro here is pretty funny. Lafitte keeping an eye on the Revolutionaries current siege on the Red Line is intriguing, but the big thing to me is the prisoner swap. Perona & Moria got away but they captured Garp and we see Pudding here too. Blackbeard always has that way of mirroring Luffy. If nothing else, they've both "captured" a big shot to the World Government here with Lilith/Garp. Moria slipping away with important secrets though could mirror Caribou doing the same to Luffy and of course Pudding is interesting as well. But this isn't the only side story we get an update on.

Hell yeah Barto, and fuck you Shanks for blowing up the Going Luffy-Senpai. I wanna get to the fireworks factory though so we'll keep this quick. There's two elements. One, this works nicely with other scenes showing the Grand Fleet getting up to trouble since Dressrosa. That plus Shanks hammering home the idea he has to respond to save face. Explaining why it matters. Shouldn't be anything new to you if you've been reading along with me for a while, but for a refresher I do still feel this is something Luffy was starting to get in Wano. Key word being starting.

It's something he was showing he was learning with how Kiku in Bakura Town builds off Katakuri/Future Sight and flows into Hyogoro in Udon. Then it starts to break away from that first with Yamato forcing his way in, then Gear Five, then seems completely forgotten come Egghead. Which starts with aggressive reminders none of this nonsense had anything to do with you and ends on the complementary note of losing control of how the story gets told. But...we all know we're here to talk about one event this chapter.

Huh? The Sunny mysteriously disappears and we see Nami being woken up by someone in...a Lego house? I wanna do bullet points and kinda quickly address all the stuff we see flying around because this is both absolutely bonkers but also not too far off from some of the things I thought could happen with how we've had weird elements of how Wano/Egghead were written:

First off who. Who was split off into this odd area. It was the original six and the more recent four crew mates this time. Interesting. A lot of people jump to Vivi right away. It's equally true that these are the crewmates who met Ace and also that we got the younger ones apart from their elders.

A lot of people have jumped right to thinking this is Elbaf and Loki has Nami in something like a dollhouse. Lego do come from a "Viking" country and that'd explain the outfit...but we've never seen anything like this aesthetic.

Real absinthe may not be super hallucinogenic...but it has a real reputation for that. One the Giants invoked. That could be a part of things.

Stussy isn't out of the question though. Especially when we get a little reminder of the brokers via Umit coming up earlier.

If there's any known Devil Fruit power this may fit with it'd be Sugar's. Which is a stretch. But this vibe could be a bridge to thematically tying Elbaf & Whole Cake.

This could be a ship, that was the first thing I thought seeing the actual panel. So the "Man Marked by Flames" and his ability to cause whirlpools isn't a bad idea.

OG Kuma is there, he coulda shoved the Sunny away. Doubtful but a possibility.

Hopefully next chapter gives us more to go on. But for now if we want to ponder things keep the facts we can glean in mind. It had to be something sudden that could happen without the other ship noticing. Whoever is calling out has to be someone who'd know Nami. We don't know which side we'll focus on for resolving this. By the same token you could say this is the gang that knows Vivi so she has to show up...it's really just split based on time. We could just as easily focus more on giving the latecomers a chance to shine figuring this one out. Or they could go on to Elbaf and set it up like Zou so we don't really need to fabricate a conflict for that arc when we finally get there.

Whichever way it goes...this is exactly the type of shit I wanted to see and I cannot wait to see how it unfolds...

...

Have you stuck with me this long? Humor me, it's my birthday weekend. Probably the last time I get to say this...but what a swan song. There's a bullet points I left off, but it'd check all the boxes right? Someone unassuming has been on the ship and thus gets snagged away with the early comers. There you go, friendly face that isn't drunk and has had time to get a handle on the situation. And still a reason to keep them obscured. Blends well with this Blackbeard/Shanks stuff, Yamato's entry in the cover saga, and still leaves Drake for the actual reveal.

#one piece #chapter 1126 #nami #Blackbeard #shanks #Bartolomeo #post-wano musings

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animehouse-moe · 1 year ago

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Link Click Season Two Episode 3: Two Funerals

After the initial two episode fare of this season, episode three certainly feels like it slows things down. Which is not a bad thing. It gives the story time to establish itself, to provide mystery and unspoken curiosities to the world, to allow for exploration of the new characters and their roles in the story, and it gives Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi time to work their magic. So certainly quite a bit to chat about with this episode!

I think the first thing that really tickles my brain is the oddities of the production for Link Click. Not that it's a bad thing, but that it's just decidedly different when compared to anime. Stuff like the letterboxing and the camera movement leave it very telling that this is a donghua rather than an anime. Bit hard to explain over words, but check out this panning shot. Feels.... wrong, right? Well, that's because of how it's shot. The way that the pan stops during the scene is different than what you'd normally see with anime, which continue the pan right to the end typically (or at the very least have it slow down before coming to a stop).

Similarly, the production vastly prefers depth to breadth, which is an interesting idea. Considering the share of horizontal to vertical space, you might have thought the latter, but instead they choose the former. Detail doesn't come from side to side, rather it likes to appear from front to back. Take this layout for example.

Typically, if you're operating on breadth instead of depth, you'd be more inclined to place the focus (the older characters in track suits on the right) towards the center of the frame, while placing the supporting characters and details on either side of them. Focusing on depth first however allows for far more different shots that feel more grounded in 3-dimensional space.

Anyways, the episode itself. We start with the older characters and/or masters of Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi waiting around in a hospital. Nothing too special, just establishing their characters and why they showed up to help Qiao Ling and Cheng Xiaoshi. Though I have to admit, some of the pieces through their short time here are comical as they have a run in with an incredibly drunk person.

Of course, the trio of elderly leave this hospital and arrive at Lu Guang's (in style, obviously) to take on the mob that has surrounded Qiao Ling and Cheng Xiaoshi. I was really looking forward to some crazy action, but I also wasn't surprised when they kept things simple and skipped most of it. They gave two crazy action sequences back to back, so I think they can afford a bit of a break. Still, they delivered some cool and interesting sequences and a fun impact frame or two.

Also, fun little detail here. During this sequence, and before the impact frames, the father of the other two actually disappears in frame for a brief second. Fun little bit to give to people paying close attention.

Also also, this gif provides an excellent example of that depth-first approach for the production. Rather than the left to right or vice versa you might usually see, they place the camera at an arbitrary spot in 3D space, and have the mob of characters run through the camera. Pieces like this really help establish Link Click's visual style.

A similar example can be found in a follow-up scene of Qiao Ling and Cheng Xiaoshi after the fight. It really does look good, it's just that it might take a bit to get used to because of the letterboxing. Certainly makes me curious about the choice for it to be a consistent visual restraint considering how much they might be able to accomplish with a full scene.

I haven't really talked about the story, have I? Well, up until this point it hasn't been anything super crazy, truthfully. The bad guys got beat up and are being interrogated, and Xiao Li comes to apologize to Qiao Ling and Cheng Xiaoshi. There's nothing crazy or important yet. That is, until Liu Min's father and entourage show up and butt heads with our current trio.

The back and forth is more performative than substantive, but Qian Jin's interactions are most certainly the focal point. Establishing his prior history as a police officer, and the past that he shares with Xiao Li, an odd rivalry brews between him and Cheng Xiaoshi.

It makes you really curious as to what led Qian Jin to his current station in life, and what it was that happened in this flashback we're shown by Xiao Li.

Anyways, the arguments come and go, and Qiao Ling ends it all with an incredibly satisfying slap that gets the first reaction out of Qian Jin in the whole conversation.

It's an incredibly subtle difference, but his default grin does widen a bit after the interaction. I think it adds a good deal to the sort of slimy and snake-like personality that Qian Jin wields so far. Very curious to see how his role plays out given that his lackey is being detained.

We move forward, and into Chen Bin's funeral. They do well with it as an emotional moment and bring out the best in Chen's now-widow to help give Cheng Xiaoshi the push he needs to solidify his desire to go back and prevent Chen Bin's death. I do think the emotional beat is well done, it's just that I'm not really one to be "all-in" on this sort of stuff myself, so I don't have too many words to say about it.

What I do have words to say about though is how Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang interact as the latter goes back in time. Also, just more of that whole Black and White/Ying and Yang theme here.

Anyways, the biggest thing is how Cheng Xiaoshi asks Lu Guang for his help. He says that he wants to help the pair, which appeals to Lu Guang through the guilt they share for being the cause of Chen Bin's death. It's a great moment that establishes the hesitation the pair have in the use of their powers currently, and their overall intent in their reasoning for using them. A solid shift from their original purpose through season 1, though of course the natural conclusion of their experiences with it anyways.

Of course, we end the episode on a cliffhanger though. That red-eyed guest from the prior episode? They didn't come to take over Lu Guang, they came to deliver a picture. Are they the same person that inhabited Qiao Ling at the end of S1/start of S2? It's hard to say, but the idea of the red eyes does beg quite the question.

The back of the photo is even more interesting when you know what it says. "Don't Die, Good Brother". Specifically "Gege" which is elder brother. Together with the drawing on the back of the young girl in the photo with an older brother, does it really mean what viewers might think it does? Is Lu Guang related to this pink haired girl somehow? Does she expect him and Cheng Xiaoshi to use the photo and learn something from it?

A far more intriguing ending than the episode itself might let on, this third episode works very hard to slow things down and draw them out so that viewers can have time to get attached to and understand the stories and characters that appear within. Of course, the quality is still way up there in terms of animation and direction, so it seems overall we've settled in for the long haul with a long term story compared to the more episodic approach of season 1. Really interested to see what they do with more time.

#link click #time agents #shi guang dai li ren #shiguang dailiren #时光代理人 #cheng xiaoshi #lu guang #qiao ling #donghua #shiguang daili ren #anime recommendation #anime review #anime and manga #anime #shiguang #link click spoilers

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