#you can go back to previous asks memes too if you want

[emmiesoverthemoon]

bloom

pairing: ot8 x reader

word count: 4.1k

summary: my description of what i think each stray kids member's primary and secondary love languages are

tags: established relationships. tooth rotting sweetness. requested! thank you anon, i hope u enjoy :3

chan

primary: acts of service – chan’s love slips in quietly, like sunlight through kitchen curtains on a slow morning, drowning the room with comforting warmth and melting the dewy chill from the previous night. he ties your shoes without asking, scribbles your name on your takeaway coffee lid with a tiny heart when you're looking the other way, fixes the things you did not get the chance to know were in need of mending before you could ever worry your pretty head about them. his care is pre-emptive, almost psychic. he wakes early to prepare your favourite things for breakfast—eggs just how you like, toast the right shade of golden—so you can rise slowly, stretch into the day without rush. he memorises your schedule like a devotional hymn so he can meet you halfway through your hardest days, arms open, smile soft, always prepared to ease the weight before you ask him to. he is a man of many burdens, yes—but he never lets you carry yours alone. his habit is simple: he notices. always. your yawn becomes his cue to fetch you water and ask how long you have been pushing yourself. your silence becomes his reason to stay close, quiet, and steady beside you. his hands are always doing, always giving—braiding your hair because he saw a tutorial and wanted to try, massaging your shoulders with firm, thoughtful pressure when he senses the tension creeping in. this is how he proves he loves you—through small, constant acts, each one stitched with intention, each one an echo of those sweet three words he will say freely, often, and at the most unexpected but perfect moments. and sometimes—when he thinks you are not looking—he will dance a little silly in the kitchen just to hear you laugh. he will send you links to the strangest memes, claiming they “reminded me of you,” and if you tease him, he will feign offense with his hand to his heart before immediately folding into bashful laughter. chan’s love is not loud, but it is ever-present—steadfast, patient, and quietly blooming in the way he stays, every single day.

secondary: words of affirmation (giving) – and when the words come, they fall soft and certain, like prayers that never ask—only give. “you’re doing so well, angel,” he’ll say as he hands you a cup of tea, fingers brushing yours like punctuation. “i’m so lucky to love you,” murmured in the tranquillity of a sleepy moment in bed, his voice low and raw with sleep, head nestled against yours. he weaves love into the everyday, lets it live in the pauses between your tasks, in the soft inhale before sleep, in the breathless hush after a kiss. chan never lets a moment pass without turning it into a reason—to remind you of your worth, to anchor you to his love, to pull you back to the truth when your own doubts get too loud. his habit is simple: he says what he feels before the feeling can ever go unspoken. before the feeling could even have the chance to think about becoming a doubt in your mind. he leaves you notes in the pocket of your coat, on the fridge, beside your mirror. not just “i love you,” but “you’re brilliant. you make every day lighter. i’m proud of you always.” he’ll text you from those extra busy late nights in the studio at 2:17 a.m.—“you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me”—even if you have not said a word. he senses your silence and fills it with light. with warmth. he does not speak to impress; he speaks to witness, to hold up a mirror to the version of yourself you sometimes forget to believe in. chan’s love is constant, but his words are the thread that sews the softness into your skin. you don’t have to ask for reassurance with him—it’s already been woven into the way he says your name.

minho

primary: acts of service – minho’s love is tucked inside the quietest parts of your day. he makes sure the fridge is stocked with your favourite essentials, and then a few more. he changes your pillowcases before you even think to. love, to him, is precision—remembering the way you like your tea or coffee, the sound of your footsteps gradually growing a little heavier when you are tired, the look on your face when you need something but don’t say it. he has a habit of checking the weather forecast before you wake, if it's predicted to be sunny, the high spf level sunscreen is left obvious and visible on the bathroom counter where he knows you will look upon entering. if it's predicted to rain, an umbrella is noticeably propped by the door next to where your shoes are stored without a word. when it’s predicted to be cold, your favourite hoodie—his favourite hoodie, the one he knows you borrow—is laid out atop the bed like an invitation. there is no announcement. no expectation. just care, in its purest form. he irons your clothes when you oversleep. leaves your laptop charging when he knows you forgot. places snacks on your desk during long days like offerings of devotion. and when you thank him, he only shrugs—“it’s nothing,” he says, eyes soft and amused. but it is never nothing. every act is a sentence he is too shy to say aloud. you’re mine. i see you. let me take care of you. minho moves through your world like a secret guardian, tending to your life like a garden he wants to see bloom—never loud, never forceful, but always, always there.

secondary: giving gifts – his presents are never random. they are always too perfect. the exact notebook you wanted that you thought to be just out of budget for this pay period; the sweater that matches your favourite shade of your favourite colour, dressed on a mannequin in a shop window that you passed one day and hummed positively at; a snack from the convenience store you mentioned you had yet to try but were interested to once in passing. he protects your preferences like treasure, and his habit is this: he shops like he’s building a map of your heart. sometimes he leaves little things at your door, unsigned but unmistakably from him. other times, he’ll drop something in your lap with a soft “thought you might like this,” and walk away before you can even say thank you. he does not need the attention. he just needs you to feel remembered. to feel adored.

changbin

primary: acts of service – changbin’s love is in his hustle. he wants to help, always. he picks up your misdelivered package from the post office even when you said you’d go after work, so that you can get home sooner because he knows you're exhausted. he organises your playlists in a way he thinks could be optimal for listening, but only in a copy of it just in case you wanted to preserve the original order. he carries every bag without asking, even before second to complain about the straps slipping off your shoulder. his habit is one of constant motion: keeping your keys in the bowl by the door, heating your leftovers so you don't forget to eat, opening doors before you reach them. he wants your life to feel easy, smooth, touched by his presence even when he is not there. loving you is being your foundation—and if he can be your calm, your steady, your shield, then he is already happy.

secondary: physical touch – his hands are warm, always reaching, always comforting. he loves using the strength he devotes himself to build to lift you into hugs that make you laugh, feet dangling, nose pressed into his neck while he holds you like he could keep the world at bay if he just squeezes hard enough. he drapes himself across your lap with a dramatic sigh after long days, content to melt into your touch like a blanket freshly pulled from the dryer. “hold me, i’m tired,” he mumbles, even though you were already reaching for him. even though you always do. his habit is proximity—if you are near, he needs to feel you. fingers tracing idle shapes along your back when you lie beside him, kisses to your cheek during pauses in conversation, his arms looping around your waist from behind as you cook. he rests his chin on your shoulder and hums nonsense songs. presses his cold nose against your neck and giggles when you squirm. he is sunshine and safety, all wrapped in the warmth of skin against skin. he plays with your fingers like they are the most interesting thing in the world. he kisses your temple when you pass him something. for changbin, your touch is both comfort and confirmation. it says i’m here, i’m yours, louder than any words could. being close to you reminds him that love is not just something you say—it is something you feel. and every time he reaches for you, he is quietly reminding you that you are home.

hyunjin

primary: quality time – hyunjin’s love language is his presence—full, romantic, and unfiltered. when he loves you, you feel it—not in grand declarations, but in how he puts down his phone when you speak, how his eyes follow you like you hung every little star that sprinkles across the inky sky that is nightfall. he wants you in his moments, in his space, in the air around him—reading beside him on slow afternoons, sitting cross-legged on the floor as he paints, napping in the same room just to breathe the same stillness. silence with you is never empty. his habit is building rituals, sacred little rhythms between just the two of you. sunset walks where your hands swing together, pinkies linked; late-night tea sipped from mismatched mugs while your voices melt into the dimness. there is a playlist you both add to, full of songs that remind him of the way you blink when you are sleepy or laugh when you do not expect to. he treats time like a love letter—always addressed to you. when you laugh, he records it in his heart. (and, sometimes, also on his phone. the first time you caught him playing it back, he flushed pink and claimed he was just checking audio quality—but you both knew better.) he is serious and dreamy, but he is silly too. he will make heart shapes out of your snacks and pout when you eat them without noticing. he will nudge his cold toes against your leg under the blanket and grin when you shriek. he will say, “i need you near me to recharge my energy,” even when he just wants to lie on your lap like a sleepy cat. with hyunjin, time is how he worships you—both quietly and with a joy that spills into everything he does.

secondary: physical touch – his hands are poets. they find your skin like it is something sacred, like each inch of you is a line he wants to learn by heart. he links your pinkies under the table when no one is looking, brushes your lower back when he passes behind you, smooths your hair as you drift off beside him like your peace is something he wants to tend with his fingertips. hyunjin’s habit is to linger—his touches are slow, soft, careful, like he is memorising you with his hands and afraid to miss even a breath. when he kisses you, he holds your face like you are something he is grateful for, something too fragile to rush. he rests his palm over your heart when he tells you he misses you—not to be dramatic, but because he wants to feel it beating beneath his skin. feel you alive. feel you still here on earth with him. but his love is not always serious—it is also shy giggles against your neck when he tickles you from behind, forehead bumps when he forgets how close he is, half-tackling you onto the couch just to trap you in his arms. when he is especially sleepy, he becomes all limbs, draping himself over you like a warm, clingy blanket. he mumbles into your skin, kisses your shoulder and says things like “you are mine forever” in a voice that sounds almost bashful—like he means it with everything he has but still cannot believe he gets to say it aloud. hyunjin touches like a man in love, touches like every moment with you is a small miracle, touches like your warmth is the only home he has ever needed.

jisung

primary: words of affirmation (receiving) – jisung lives off your voice like it's his lifeline. your praise is of equivalence to sunshine to him—he blooms under it, seeks it out, and keeps it in the quiet corners of his heart for the days when the noise gets too heavy to bear alone. he stores your compliments like pressed flowers between the pages of his soul, delicate and cherished. “you’re proud of me, right?” he will ask with a sheepish grin, trying to sound casual—but there’s always that flicker in his eyes, that silent question behind the words. he needs to hear it to believe it. his habit is fishing for your love in ways so obvious it becomes endearing—“did i do good?” when he knows he nailed it, “you really like me that much?” said half-laughing but fully hoping. every “you’re brilliant,” “i love your brain,” “i’m lucky you’re mine” wraps around him like armour, and he glows in it. he becomes more himself when he knows you see him—not the version he performs, but the soft, anxious, dazzling heart underneath. and oh, when you whisper it to him when no one else is around? that's when he melts completely—eyes wide, smile small, voice caught somewhere in his throat as he tries to play it off like he is not about to combust.

secondary: quality time – jisung wants you like background music: always there, steady and sweet. he craves your presence the way others crave solitude, wants you with him through everything—even if you are just sitting in the same room doing completely different things. his habit is curling into your side like it is instinct, draping himself across you when he is sleepy or bored or just feeling extra soft. feet in your lap while he games, head resting on your stomach as you scroll through your phone, half of his focus always on you. he shows up unannounced with snacks, or says “come over?” with a pout that already expects yes. jisung thrives in the kind of love that exists in shared silences and interrupted laughs, in hours spent doing nothing and calling it perfect. he does not need fancy dates or grand plans—just you, your voice, your time, your warmth. and maybe your hoodie, too, because he has a habit of stealing it and then denying it with a grin and glittering eyes that give everything away.

felix

primary: gift giving – felix’s love glows in the things he offers. everything he gives you is wrapped in warmth, in thoughtfulness, in the soft kind of care that says i see you. i think of you. i love you, even in the smallest ways. he makes gift giving an art form—handmade cookies shaped like both of your initials, surrounded by little hearts on a pretty platter. bracelets woven with delicate patterns, each colour chosen with purpose. fresh bouquets of flowers continuously stocked in your favourite vases—which he also bought—because he likes watching your expression soften as you smell their aroma when you pass by. his habit is turning his affection into tangible magic: tiny jars of folded paper stars with notes tucked inside, stickers for your journal that reminded him of your smile, dried petals pressed into the pages of a book he picked up on a whim, because he thought the story would feel different in your hands. you are a constant in the forefront of his mind. during brand shoots, he finds himself tucking aside the newest items just because he knows they would suit you—“you’d look so beautiful in this,” he says with a sparkle in his eye, like there is not a version of the world where you wouldn’t. felix thrives when he gets to treat you. you are his girl, his favourite person in the world, and if he can make you happy with a gift—big or small—he will do it without hesitation. anything. say the word, and it is yours. the sky is not even the limit. he loves to watch your eyes light up and tucks that moment deep into his heart like something sacred. giving is how he loves out loud, how he places pieces of his soul into your palms—sweet, soft, and full of sincerity. you never have to earn it. he gives because loving you is the most natural thing in the world.

secondary: physical touch – felix is all cuddles and sunshine, a golden glow wrapped in arms that always reach for you first. he leans into you like gravity itself pulls him there, like your side is the only place he ever wants to be. his habit is slipping his hand into yours in crowded places, always with a little squeeze like i’ve got you. he rests his cheek on your shoulder with a quiet hum, his voice low and warm in his chest, kisses the top of your head like it is just part of his breathing. he touches to soothe, to share, to remind you that you are never alone—i’m here. i’m yours. i’m not going anywhere. but felix is not only just soft, he's silly with it, too. he likes to fall on top of you dramatically when he's tired after a long day, arms flopped across you like a human blanket, giggling childishly into your neck because “you’re comfier than the couch.” he traces little shapes on your arm—stars, smiley faces, a lopsided heart with your initials in it. sometimes he bonks your forehead with his own just to make you laugh, then kisses the spot and proclaims that he “healed it” like some kind of chaotic wizard doctor who uses love as his magical medicine. he turns hugs into spinning twirls in the kitchen, wraps around you from behind while you brush your teeth, and insists on holding you in bed even if he overheats and kicks off the blanket five minutes later. when felix loves you, his touch is constant—not clingy, but full of quiet devotion. his hugs are tight, his kisses are everywhere, his hands always reaching. he holds you like something precious, like he knows how lucky he is, and he never wants to let go. in his arms, you are safe. adored. home.

seungmin

primary: quality time – seungmin’s love is subtle but steady, like the hush of rain against your window as you curl up together under the same blanket. it is not grand declarations or showy gestures—it is presence. he does not say “i love you” with words nearly as often as he says it with time. his love is sitting next to you through hours of quiet, eating lunch beside you even if it means squeezing it into his schedule, tagging along on errands just because he wants to be near. his habit is choosing you in the small ways—always choosing you. slipping his hand into yours in the grocery store. brushing shoulders with you as you walk. resting his head on your lap while you both scroll through your phones in silence. his love is the comfort of routine with a softness just for you. he plans evenings around you without ever saying it—your favorite dramas cued up before you even ask, your side of the bed turned down, a hoodie tossed your way with a casual “you’re cold, right?” he does not demand your attention, only hopes to exist within your world. and somehow, that makes his presence feel all the more precious. he keeps a toothbrush for you at his place. learns how you take your tea. remembers the names of your coworkers even though he claims they are not interesting. and even when he teases you, it is never cruel—his loyalty is a thread that runs through every look, every laugh, every quiet moment shared. with seungmin, time is love written in lowercase: soft, constant, true.

secondary: acts of service – seungmin notices everything. he is always three steps ahead of your needs, like he has studied you in secret and taken notes on the way you live, the way you forget to charge your phone or skip meals when you are stressed. he folds your laundry before you get to it, refills your cup halfway through a movie without a word, plugs in your charger when you fall asleep on the couch. his love is not loud—but it is efficient, meticulous, and impossibly kind. his habit is in the hands-on care he offers without expecting praise: quiet gestures that carry the weight of devotion. he takes care of you like it is second nature, like your comfort is built into his daily rhythm. he might roll his eyes when you gush over how sweet it is—“it’s not a big deal,” he’ll mumble, already fluffing your pillow. but his smile lingers when he thinks you are not watching. he will never say he is romantic—but the way he reads your needs before you speak, the way he remembers every offhand comment and turns it into something thoughtful later... it is romance, just wearing a hoodie and a soft scowl. and when you kiss his cheek and whisper, “thank you for always taking care of me,” he pretends to groan—but his ears go pink, and he looks at you like you are the softest thing he has ever known.

jeongin

primary: quality time – jeongin loves like golden hour—soft and slow, warm around the edges, full of quiet wonder. he wants you in every version of the day: sleepy-eyed mornings where you brush your teeth side by side, long lazy afternoons filled with shared snacks and tangled limbs, late nights spent lying on the floor whispering about nothing and everything. he does not need constant plans, just your presence—your voice humming beside him, your laughter rising like music into the still air. his habit is pulling you close when he plays games, making space in his world for you to belong. he offers you bites of his snacks without asking, hands you a second controller and lights up every time you join in—even if you lose. especially if you lose, because then he gets to nudge you with his shoulder and say “i’ll carry you,” all smug and soft at once. he wants to share what he loves because he loves you. his playlists, his favourite comfort shows, the weird videos he replays until they are inside jokes only you two understand. to jeongin, time is the sweetest gift, and he gives it to you in hours that feel like seconds. being with you, beside you, near enough to hear your little sighs and watch your face light up—that is his favourite kind of love. and sometimes he will just stare at you, eyes soft and unfocused, and when you catch him, he only shrugs, smiles, and says, “you’re just really nice to look at.”

secondary: words of affirmation (receiving) – though he jokes and plays it cool, your words mean more to him than he ever says out loud. he acts like compliments slide right off him, grins and brushes them away with a shy laugh or a teasing quip—but he holds onto them. all of them. he saves your voice notes and replays them at night, clutching his phone to his chest when you whisper, “i love you,” like it is a secret spell only he gets to keep. he does not always ask directly, but his habit is in the sideways questions—“do you really think i looked good today?” with a tilt of his head, or “you’re not tired of me yet, are you?” half-laughed, but threaded with a hope too soft to name. he wants to be enough for you. he hopes he is. and when you tell him he is—when you say “you make me so happy,” or “i’m proud of you,” or “i’d choose you over and over”—he goes quiet for a second, like his whole heart has paused to feel it properly. your praise is a balm to the parts of him he hides behind jokes. your affection is the light that melts his shyness. he listens even when you think he is not, remembers every sweet thing you say like a treasure map he reads in the dark. and when you kiss his cheek and tell him, “you’re everything to me,” he pretends to grumble—but his ears go pink, and his smile could outshine the stars.

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[luludeluluramblings]

SugarBaby!Neglected!BatSib!Reader x Tony Stark - Part Two

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I started this while inspired by Pregnant!Reader. But, it’s just fluff and possible comfort. I had the dialogue written for the past few months, but just got around to finishing it. I’m worried I’m both rusty and still amateurish. 🙃 Sorry if this ain’t what y’all had in mind!

Previous Reader x Tony Stark

Warnings: Fluffy, wholesome, unplanned pregnancy, GN!Reader (or at least attempted), bedroom activities mentioned.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You had taken multiple test. Multiple. Gone to at least two private doctors. You even had Jarvis do a full body scan before telling him not to tell Tony.

You needed to be the one to do it.

So in proper fashion, you decided to tell him as soon as possible. Before anything else blew up or there was some Alien robot monkey attack.

It just happened to be on movie night.

“Tony, love. My dearest husband.” You start as you walk into you fancy penthouse kitchen, holding the box filled with multiple test in your arms since you know the man will need all the proof he can get his hands on.

“Oh no, I don’t like that tone. That is not good not good tone at all. Nope. I don’t want to hear any bad news on Star Wars night.” Already he can catch on that something is up as he personally mixes a few drinks for you both while reading some research articles for one of his projects like multitasker he is.

“It might be good news.” You sheepishly say as you set the box on the counter and move to wrap your arms around his waist.

“Not with that tone.” He snorts out as he starts to make your favorite drink, only for you to lightly touch his arm to stop him.

“Alright, it’s just news.” You murmur into his back, a bit more serious.

Tony can feel the shift happening. Picking up on one of the social cues that something was going on. He put down the bottles and turned off his glasses, setting them on the counter.

“It’s bothering you isn’t it?” He asked, catching on as he spun in your arms and wrapped his own arms around you.

“Yep.” You look up at him, resting your chin against his chest and taking a moment to breathe him in.

“Is it good news?”

“Just… brace yourself.” You give him a pleading look, trying to think of the best way to say it.

“Oh boy.” He gives a playful wince as he tries to alleviate the tension he feels under your shoulder blades.

“So, the barebacking kinda bit us in the ass.” Probably wasn’t the best way to say it, but you thought he would get it.

“What?”

Apparently you were wrong. Modern lingo was a flop.

“The barebacking kinda bit us in the —“ You try again, awkwardly.

“No. I mean, sweetheart, you’re gonna have to explain—“ Confusion and playful annoyance washing over him. You always liked to use modern slang and memes on him to be funny. But, it wasn’t translating well until you finally blurted it out.

“I’m pregnant.”

“Oh.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, shit! Are you sure it’s mine?” Was the first thing he blurts out as it sinks into him.

“Tony!” You admonished him, giving him a glare as you looked up at him.

“Sorry, habit! Sorry! Just… What do you want to do about it?“ He pulls away, and it stings. But, you know he’s just trying to cope with the information.

“I— I don’t know… What do you want to do about it?” You echo the same sentiments, just as lost as him in that moment.

“I— I’m not good with babies, or toddlers, or kids, or pre-teens — Hell, I’m not good with people in general.” Hearing him say that makes you soften. You knew his insecurities. You shared some of them yourself. And, seeing him like this made something in you shift from uncertainty to acceptance.

“Tony…” You tried to get his attention, but he continued to spiral like a falling plane.

“And- And, I have daddy issues, with minor mommy issues. On top of all other sorts of issues.” Mayday. Mayday.

“Tony.” You try to be a bit firmer.

“I overwork. I’m an ass— you said that just last night too.” You almost want to laugh at how animated he’s being. Pacing back and forth, using his fingers to count out each and every little or large reason.

“Tony.” However, you do find yourself growing exasperated at his spiraling.

“Hang on, I’m trying to make a point here. Anyway, I’d be a—“

“Good dad.” You interrupt. Saying it all confident and nonchalant. Like he did the day he said he loved you.

You can tell it stuns him. Which is rare. It only last for a second before he starts to try to spiral again.

“Babe—“

“No. I’m serious. You’d be a good one.” You verbally take the helm. Something you rarely did in your relationship.

“Just because you call me daddy in bed— Actually that might have tempted fate here. Do you think Thor or one his divine buddies had something to do with this?” Humor. His favorite way of coping. But, it’s a decent sign. It means he is actually processing this. So you add your own comment.

“Pretty sure it was you busting a nut in—“

“Hey, knock it off or we’ll end up defiling the counters again.”

You do laugh at that. It’s how you both have learned to ease into things. The hard topics are easier to digest with a bit of laughter and time.

“Tony.” His name is softer as you reach for him.

“Sweetheart.” He almost teasingly says, but his voice it a little raw. However, he doesn’t pull away. A good sign. A great sign.

But, you know it’s not all over yet. There’s still more to say and Tony is as jumpy as a jack rabbit when it comes to his feelings.

“Tony, you’d be a great dad.” You whisper gently.

It’s easy to tell it’s gotten through by he goes completely still. You can barely even see him breathe. Another one of his tells you’ve learned since loving him.

“How do you know?” He asks. His voice doesn’t break. But, it’s fractured. There’s cracks in it, but it doesn’t fall apart.

“Because you would actually try.” You start to say. Tony rarely accepted praise despite his ego. So you had a limited opportunity to work with this and only your relationship to back it up.

“We both a millions of issues between the two of us. Hell, we could probably be a case study for a couple of psychologists. But, I want to give a part of you and a part of me something we didn’t have.”

And, that’s the conclusion you’ve come to when remembering your time in the manor. Growing up never being good enough for Bruce. Watching your father pick everyone in a city you didn’t know over you again and again. Watching your siblings do the same. How they had their exclusive club that you were never allowed yo be apart of.

A feeling of inadequacy that you developed even after you told yourself over and over again that it was fine.

You felt your resolve start to form. As if all those childish things that weighed you down were insignificant in making this decision.

“I’m not going to do this without you though. If you want to do this I’m all for it. If don’t think you can I’m still going to love you, regardless.” Even if you felt yourself come around to it, you knew it would take time for Tony too.

He wasn’t going to leave you. You knew that. You had learned that. Maybe from the way he had firmly told you that you were stuck with him forever and he’d crawl back to you no matter what.

You’re pretty sure he had been quoting a movie or something because you had laughed at how ridiculous he sounded. But, that look in his eyes made you realize he was completely serious about what he meant.

A long moment of silence washes over you. You can tell he’s uncomfortable by it even though you aren’t. You don’t rush him though. Giving him the chance to crack another joke and move on like nothing happened. Or, to find the words he wants to say.

“I think… I want to do this. I don’t know. You’re giving me those mushy feelings again. The ones that make me want to cry.” A smile breaks out on your face as you rest your chin on his chest to look up at him.

It’s not a no. It’s not a yes. Hell, it’s not even a maybe. It’s just an idea. But, Tony is great with ideas. You’ll probably have to deal with him locking himself in his workshop for a week. However, you’ll be waiting outside for him ready to hear anything has to say.

“Want to bone me against the window and possibly cause a small public scandal, then ignore the PR team while we watch Star Wars? You know, to help cope with the mushy feelings?” You offer with a wiggle of your eyebrows and a mischievous grin. One that earns you a relieved smile and a kiss in return.

“God, I love you.” Is all he says before he takes you up on that exact offer. The kisses growing more heated as a trail of clothes begins to form towards the window of the penthouse.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I didn’t expect people to like my previous Tony work at all. It was just a brain worm that I pulled out and splattered on my keyboard. So, I applied the same method here, but with a bit more finesse. I think.

A/N: This is basically a prequel. Before the Batfam finds out and goes Yandere for SugarBaby!Reader.

[shurisneakers]

unsolved (xii)

Summary: Bucky doesn’t even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet’s amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky, obnoxious reader, forests, sabotaging

A/N: no memes this chapter i ltrly just wanted to get one out but they will return next chapter trust. please ignore formatting errors and typos. I literally edited this whole thing and formatted it on my phone and it lagged and glitched the entire way.

Previous part || Series masterlist

The morning, though loud and annoying, has a particular ease to it.

There’s ridiculously hot coffee. Scraping forks and crunch from burnt pancakes. Multiple conversations layered over the sound of Bruce’s ridiculously long voicemail playing on speaker.

“--just checking in. Hope you’re still alive. If not, well, I guess you won’t call back. Anyway, Steve, if you get this, tell Bucky-”

Bucky rejects the phone sliding across the table towards him without even looking at it. “I’m not listening to that. Last time spent fifteen minutes before telling me that his shorts were in my laundry load.”

Nat hides a small, amused smile behind her coffee mug.

Clint finishes what might have once been a waffle, but has now been smothered into an unidentifiable state.

Bucky is exactly where he always is, at the end of the table, hoodie sleeves shoved up, coffee in one hand, headphones on with no music playing, just so that he has an excuse to not talk.

Someone’s already taken a bite of his toast and he’s been glaring about it ever since.

Until you walk in. Half-dressed for the day already, jacket thrown over your shoulder, keys spinning on your finger.

He looks up when you walk in, taking his headphone off one ear and giving you a curt nod when you wave at him. It takes him too long to realise his lip is curled up in the corner.

And that someone’s taken his toast.

“You going somewhere?” Sam asks, barely looking up from his Kindle.

It’s offhanded, like he only just registered the way you’re dressed.

“Yeah. I’m leaving.”

The table pauses. Your face doesn’t betray any emotion but Bucky registers your jaw tightening in the most miniscule manner. Like you’re waiting for a challenge, anxious energy vibrating from you, but standing your ground nonetheless.

Steve flips the page of his newspaper. “Eat something before you go.”

“If you’re coming back late, leftovers will be in the microwave,” Nat says, reaching for more marmalade.

Sam's finger swipes across the screen. “Text if you need anything."

Your shoulders loosen a little.

Bucky reaches for another slice of toast, hiding a smile behind the chipped coffee mug that Clint got him from some garage sale in Lithuania? Maldives? Somewhere.

“A'ight,” you say, stealing the newpiece of toast off Bucky’s plate, ignoring his complaints, and taking a bite.

Eventually, Steve asks, “Where you headed, anyway?”

You chew for a second before grinning around your mouthful.

“Bigfoot.”

Another collective pause follows.

Sam exhales. “I don’t want to ask, but I feel like I have to.”

You finish chewing. “Haunted reality competition. Going to Washington to look for Bigfoot. Loch Ness. You know. The classics.”

Nat hums. “Loch Ness is in Scotland.”

You shrug unaffectedly. “Then I guess we’re only finding half the legends.”

“Can I come?” Clint pipes up. “I have exper–”

“No.” Sam shakes his head. “Last time you did one of these, I had to read an article titled ‘Avengers Caught in Paranormal Disaster?’”

Clint hums. “Disaster is a strong word.”

Sam throws a look at him. “You fell through a wall.”

Clint shrugs. “Weak wall.”

“You fell twice.”

“Weak architecture.”

You grin, finishing the toast, before squeezing Bucky’s shoulder. “You coming?”

Bucky reaches for the third piece of godforsaken toasf. “My bag’s in the car.”

“See you there.” You grab your jacket and walk out the door.

The second you’re gone, the entire table turns to Bucky, eerily in sync.

He immediately puts the headphone back on his exposed ear and doesn’t even glance up, even though his face starts burning immediately because he knows. He fucking knows what’s about to happen.

“What,” he bites.

Steve shakes his head. “Unbelievable.”

Sam leans back, stretching his arms. “Man, you’re not even pretending anymore.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He desperately swallows down his coffee to get out of there as swift as possible.

“Dude. You had your bag packed before you were even asked.”

Bucky shrugs, completely unbothered. “Usually I don’t get asked.”

Nat finally speaks, slow, knowing. “Yeah, you made it pretty clear you don’t need to be.”

Silence.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You loser.”

Bucky grabs a piece of bacon and makes an ungraceful exit like the superstar that he is.

Someone steals his stupid toast for the third time.

_________

The road stretches out ahead, empty and winding.

The kind of road that doesn’t feel fully real. Just an endless stretch of trees and sky, the occasional fading sign pointing toward a town no one’s heard of.

The car hums steady beneath you, the windows cracked just enough to let in the cool air.

The radio is low, playing some random playlist, but mostly, the background noise is Bucky’s occasional exhale at the nonsense you're spewing and the smooth glide of the tires on the road.

You’re driving, one hand lazily on the wheel, the other resting near the console. Bucky is in the passenger seat, hoodie sleeves pushed up, one knee braced against the door.

He looks comfortable.

That only means it's time to ruin it.

“I looked up the competition details again.”

Bucky hums, shifting slightly. “And?”

“Wanna guess what the prize is?”

“Please don’t say money. That would make this worse.”

You glance at him, amused. “Why would money make it worse?”

“Because then I’d have to think about the fact that you’re technically employed by cryptid clout chasers.”

"That's not how it works." You snort, shifting gears. “It’s not money.”

“Then what?”

You pause, letting the anticipation build before saying,

“A trophy.”

“A trophy,” he repeats, flat.

You nod, grin widening. “And not just any trophy. A gold-plated bust of Bigfoot’s head.”

“I hope we lose.”

“You’re gonna love it when we win.”

Bucky gives you a look. “What does winning even mean in a Bigfoot competition?”

You shrug. “You have to submit video evidence. Best sighting wins.”

Bucky shakes his head. “What does second place get?”

“A silver-plated bust of Bigfoot’s head.”

He pauses. “…And third?”

You grin.

“Bronze Bigfoot.”

“Fourth place it is, then."

"As if. We're gonna dominate, baby."

The miles slip by, unnoticed.

At some point, you tilt your head toward him. “How’s Alpine?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “She’s started ripping up my curtains again.”

You nod like this is completely reasonable. “What did you do to her?”

“I’ve done fuckin’ nothing. I got her a bed. I got her some stupid toys. I even made a dumb scratch post. She just won't let up. What’s her fuckin problem?”

“You know she’s doing this to fuck with you, right? She thinks it’s funny that you get mad but then get her new things every week.”

“Yeah, and she told you all this herself, yes?”

“It’s not like we talk about you. We talk about other things, you just come up occasionally.”

“I don’t care about the opinions of some fuckin’ cat.”

“Witch cat.”

“Whatever.”

Bucky shifts, rolling his window down slightly, letting the air move through the car.

At some point, he tilts his head slightly, studying you.

You’re focused on the road, fingers tapping absently against the wheel in time with the music.

The sun filters through the windshield, casting soft light against your face.

Bucky doesn’t look away immediately.

The road stretches on.

_______

The road narrows into a dirt path, the wheels crunching against gravel as you pull up to what can only be described as a God-abandoned nightmare.

The campground cabins sit at the edge of the woods, weathered, slightly crooked, and looking like it has at least five different species living in the walls.

Front porches are warped, the railing missing entire sections, and the windows look more decorative than functional.

Bucky stares out the windshield.

“I want you to understand something,” he says.

You hum, unbuckling your seatbelt. “Yeah?”

“This is worse than any warzone I've been in.”

You snort. “You’ll be fine.”

Bucky just looks back at the cabin and immediately rolls his window back up.

You swing the car door open, stepping onto the gravel, stretching from the long drive. The air is cool, crisp, smelling of trees and damp earth.

Across the clearing, you can see the other teams arriving, unpacking gear, setting up equipment.

There’s a mix of energy. Some people look like actual professionals with camera rigs and audio setups, the other half look like they googled ‘how to catch Bigfoot’ once and immediately packed a bag. You were a healthy middle. This made you better than them in many ways.

Bucky watches a guy in a bright orange jacket gesturing wildly at his partner.

“I’m telling you, we should’ve brought the infrared–”

“We couldn’t afford the infrared, Jason–”

“To win, we must invest-”

“There are people worse than us,” he points out. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

You grin, nudging the trunk open. “Wait till you see the matching team uniforms I got us.”

“I would literally rather die.”

You grab your bag, “Well, you can't right now, because we’re gonna have to socialize.”

Bucky, grabbing the bag from you instead and slinging it over his shoulder, pauses mid-step.

You gesture at the other teams. “We should at least know who we’re up against. Plus, I wanna see who looks the most insane. That’s how we weed out our biggest competition.”

Bucky does not bother saying otherwise, “I’m not doing any talking.”

You grin, pleased at the complete breakdown of his will to your wishes.

“Come on, babygirl,” you say, patting his arm. “Let’s go meet the competition.”

Bucky scans the area.

A guy in a tie-dye hoodie and cargo shorts is holding a homemade electromagnetic sensor, waving it over the ground. To his left, a woman in head-to-toe camo is assembling what looks like a makeshift crossbow.

And then, the competition makes itself known.

A guy in a bright orange jacket and an unnecessarily dramatic scarf saunters over, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

You immediately recognize him as the guy who was arguing earlier about infrared cameras.

He stops a few feet away, surveying you both.

“New team?” he asks, voice way too serious.

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “No, we’re just tourists.”

Orange Jacket ignores him, turning to you. “What’s your strategy?”

You tilt your head. “For what?”

“For winning.”

You glance at Bucky. “Do we have a strategy?”

Bucky shrugs. “Sex appeal. I thought you wanted me to take my shirt off."

Orange Jacket does not blink. “Unconventional.”

You nod. “We like to push the envelope.”

Orange Jacket finally sticks out a hand. “Jason.”

You shake it. “Nice to meet you, Jason.”

Jason gestures vaguely to the chaotic scene behind him. “We’re one of the top teams here. We’ve been finalists for three years running.

“Wow,” Bucky says. “That’s… impressive.”

Jason squints. “You don’t sound impressed.”

“Oh, no, I am.” Bucky says flatly. “I’m very impressed.”

Jason stares at him. “This is a sport.”

Bucky presses his lips together.

You butt in before Bucky has an aneurysm, “Well, Jason, I wish you the best of luck.”

Jason nods solemnly. “You’ll need it more.”

And then he disappears back into the crowd.

Bucky watches him go, then glances at you. “I hate him.”

You hum. “It’s important to have a nemesis.”

Bucky exhales, shaking his head. “You already took that spot months ago.”

“I think that’s so sexy and romantic. It’s a shame we aren’t making out angrily right now against that tree.”

Bucky stares. You stare at him.

“Which tree?” he asks finally.

“Bitch, why is that your question? Do you have a preference? All trees here–”

Before he can respond with something equally stupid, another group approaches. A trio of women, all wearing flannel, all looking wildly competent.

The one in front nods at you. “You guys here for fun or for real?”

You grin. “Why not both?”

She nods. “Alright, respect.”

Bucky glances at them, mildly suspicious. “What’s your deal?”

“Expedition research group,” she says. “We do deep-dive investigations into folklore and cryptids.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “You’re real scientists?”

One of them smirks. "About as real as it can get.

You pipe in immediately, “So, which one of you has the best Bigfoot sighting story?”

The woman gestures toward her friend, a tall redhead who looks like she could fight God and win.

“She saw something in Oregon once.”

The redhead nods sagely. “Could’ve been a bear. Could’ve been Bigfoot.”

You nod. “Incredible.”

Bucky rubs a hand over his face, muttering, “This is so dumb.”

You grin. “Nah. This is a sport.”

"I guess you guys met Jason," the redhead says. "He can get crazy about these things, so I'd watch out for him. Last time they used signal jammers to make sure people got no cell service so they couldn't go too far."

"Thanks for the heads up," you tell them, glancing at Bucky.

Loud microphone feedback drags your attention away. The organizers stand on a makeshift platform, which is really just the porch of one of the only standing cabins.

A short, stocky guy in a trucker hat steps forward, raising a megaphone.

“Alright, folks!” he yells, voice gravel-thick, deeply unbothered, like he’s done this a thousand times. “Listen up. Time for the official rundown.”

The teams gather around, some paying full attention, others already looking like they’re plotting ways to cheat.

“First off, let’s get the obvious out of the way. This is a competition. So you sign the waiver, you take responsibility for your dumbass decisions.”

There’s a general murmur of understanding.

“Second,” he continues, “this year’s challenge is focused on evidence collection. The goal isn’t just to make contact. It’s to prove you did. That means photos, audio, video, footprints, fur, whatever you can get your hands on. The more convincing, the better.”

Someone from the back shouts, “What about physical capture?”

The organizer blinks, before slowly and deliberately saying, “I dare you.”

You grin. “Alright Bucky, that’s our goal.”

Bucky shrugs. "Sure, what the hell."

“Now, because we don’t want you guys running wild all over Washington state, we’ve set specific boundaries for the hunt.”

He gestures to a giant, laminated map behind him.

“The active zone is roughly thirty square miles of forest. You go outside the zone? You’re disqualified. You get lost outside the zone? That’s not our problem.”

You whisper, “That sounds like a threat.”

“Sounds like a promise," he whispers back.

The guy continues.

“We’re running this for two nights. You report back both mornings with your findings. At the end, our panel of cryptid experts will review the evidence and determine the winner.”

Bucky makes a face. “Cryptid experts?”

Jason, your new nemesis, nods sagely from a few feet away.

“This is a sport,” he mouths.

“Last thing. No physical interference. No touching other teams’ equipment, no blocking their shots, no hiding their evidence. Anything else?”

A girl near the front raises a hand. “What’s the actual prize?”

The guy puffs his chest out. “Pride. Glory.”

Silence.

He deflates. “Trophy and a gift card for 100 dollars.”

“Hell yeah.”

The guy claps his hands once. “Alright, that’s it. You’ve got the rules. You’ve got the map. Now get to work.”

And just like that, teams scatter like they’re already three steps ahead.

“The game is afoot,” you say.

“The game is a bigfoot,” Bucky murmurs distractedly before horror dawns on him. “What the fuck have you turned me into?”

“My boyfriend soon, I hope.”

Bucky ignores your last comment because he’s already dug himself a hole. “What’s the actual strategy here?”

“Step one: Figure out how we’re gonna trick these judges into thinking we actually found something.”

Bucky narrows his eyes. “And step two?”

You pat his shoulder. “Step two is your job.”

“No.”

“Step three: we pick the tree you want to makeout against.”

“Stop.”

The sun is starting to dip, streaking the sky with hazy orange and purple as you and Bucky haul your stuff inside before you start hunting.

The cabin is a structural crime against humanity, to put it kindly.

The floorboards creak threateningly with every step. The walls smell like something died in them a long time ago and no one bothered to check where.

The single lightbulb overhead flickers like it’s debating whether or not to give up completely.

Bucky steps inside, looks around once. “I am going to die here.”

You kick your bag further inside. “That’s the spirit.”

The room is barely furnished, just a rickety wooden table, two mismatched chairs, and a couch.

There’s a wood-burning stove in the corner and a door that leads to what technically counts as a bedroom.

Bucky steps forward, pressing down on the floor with his boot. The wood groans.

Bucky shakes his head, grumbling as he sets his bag down. “I was in Europe last week. I stayed in a five-star hotel.”

You grin. “And now you’re here. With me. Your life is so good.”

A sharp rustling outside makes you both pause.

You glance toward the window, which is so murky and scratched that it’s basically useless.

Bucky doesn’t move. “If that’s Jason trying to sabotage us, I’m going to throw him into the woods.”

You perk up. “Ooh, good idea. Do it on camera so I can get extra footage. I'm gonna use it as B-Roll."

Bucky levels a look at you.

You grin.

_______

The forest is quiet.

The beam of your flashlight cuts through the dark, swinging between thick trunks and scattered leaves.

Bucky walks beside you, hood pulled up because it's fucking cold, hands in his pockets.

The air is cool, the damp smell of earth settling in your lungs.

Bucky breaks first.

“You know,” he says, voice even, “I looked up Bigfoot sightings in the car.”

You glance at him, delighted. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” He adjusts his sleeve. “Some guy saw it in a Walmart parking lot. Someone else swore on his life that he saw Bigfoot at a pool party.”

“A pool party?”

Bucky shrugs. “That’s what he said.”

You squint. “Was he, like, invited? Or did he just show up?”

"Donno. I clicked out of the tab immediately."

You’re about to comment when your boot caches on a branch, making you stumble.

Bucky catches your arm without thinking, steadying you before you can fully trip.

“You good?”

You grin. “Didn’t know you cared.”

Bucky lets go immediately.

You keep walking, slower this time.

Eventually, you swing your flashlight up, watching the glow disappear into the trees. “Okay, serious question.”

“Doubt it.”

You ignore him. “Dumbest thing you’ve ever done on a mission?”

“Define dumb.”

“Up to interpretation.”

Bucky hums, considering.

“2015. Northern Italy. Steve and I were supposed to take out this arms deal happening in a vineyard.”

“A vineyard?”

“Yeah. Nice place. Good wine.”

You snort. “I love that that’s your takeaway.”

Bucky ignores you. “Anyway. Intel said it was going down in one of the cellars. Supposed to be a small, controlled environment, easy to manage. But the problem was, we didn’t have the exact location. Just a general area.”

You nod along. “Okay.”

“So Steve tells me to ‘blend in’ while he scouts the outside.”

“Did you?”

Bucky shakes his head, staring at the trees. “Listen. I was tired. I hadn’t slept. So instead of being a normal human being and just waiting, I signed up for a vineyard tour.”

You snort.

“Like, the full thing. Tastings, cheese pairings, little booklet of wine notes. The whole experience.”

“Did Steve–”

“Found me forty minutes later, mid-tour, holding a glass of Merlot.”

“Were you drunk?”

“No, but I forgot what we came there to do.”

“Did it work?”

Bucky gestures vaguely. “The deal was in the cellar. I was right.”

“Oh, so the Merlot gave you divine clarity.”

“Exactly.”

You shake your head, grinning.

Bucky watches you for a second, fingers tapping absently against his flashlight.

You don’t notice.

You’re too busy grinning at any vaguely strange movement in the woods, too busy leaning into the moment like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The wind shifts, the leaves rustling softly above you.

The moment sits there, warm and settled.

Bucky clears his throat. “Your turn.”

“Huh?”

“Dumbest thing you’ve done on a mission.”

"Oh, that’s easy.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

You swing your flashlight back toward the trees, stepping over a fallen log.

“i once spent three hours stuck in a vent because I refused to admit that my plan was bad.”

“Three hours?”

“Okay, so Leviathan training programme. Supposed to be simple. Get in, get the intel, get out.” You swing your flashlight up. “And I had a perfect route planned. Minimal exposure, minimal risk.”

Bucky hums, skeptical. “And where did the vent come in?”

You sigh. “See, that’s where things got complicated.”

Bucky snorts. “Right.”

You adjust your grip on the flashlight. “Turns out, the hallway I thought would be empty very much was not. So I had two options.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Normal options or your options?

“Oh, definitely my options.” You hold up a finger. “Option One: Hide. Wait it out. Find a new route.”

“Sounds reasonable, so I assume you didn’t do that.”

“Option Two: Take the vent system.”

“You looked at a basic tactical problem and decided that the correct solution was to crawl through the air ducts like a goddamn rat?”

“Yes. Anyway,” you continue, unbothered, “I thought it was a genius idea. Until I got stuck. Like, wedged. Completely immobile.”

“Tell me you had backup.”

“Absolutely not. And I obviously couldn’t radio in, because that would’ve been embarrassing. So I spent three hours slowly wiggling backward. Eventually went the wrong way, fell through the vent because turns out, the movies are wrong about how strong they are. Fell into a room with a bunch of agents that were following me around because turns out, vents are also not quiet.”

His laugh is soft, unguarded, a sound you don’t hear often.

You grin. “Anyway, I told them I was from security and that they failed a ventilation breach test.”

He shakes his head, muttering, “Jesus Christ,” like he can’t believe you’re a real person.

You nudge him with your elbow. “You ever get stuck in a vent?”

“No.”

“Shame.”

And then your foot catches on something that shouldn’t be there.

The ground drops out beneath you.

For half a second, you’re weightless.

Then a sharp yank reminds you you're not.

You stumble, body jerking backward as Bucky’s hand locks around your arm, hauling you back onto solid ground.

If you weren't so focused on that fact that you almost face planted, you would have noticed that Bucky's arms were both around your shoulders, holding you steady. Turns out his metal arm ran warm.

There’s a dull, heavy thud as the dirt fully collapses in front of you, revealing a man-made pit.

“What the fuck?”

Your flashlight beam dips into the hole. It’s deep enough to trap someone, but not deep enough to kill. The bottom is just dirt, loose leaves, and some broken branches.

“Okay,” you say, lowering your voice. “So, on a scale from ‘this is fine’ to ‘mild concern,’ where are we sitting right now?”

Bucky remains expressionless. “I’m going back to the cabin.”

“You’re quitting?”

“Yes. None of this is worth it.”

“No, but–” you gesture wildly, “we’re onto something.”

“You fell into a hole. Real something we're onto here.”

You glare. “Well, when you say it like that, it sounds stupid.”

Bucky shoves a hand through his hair, calming the mild racing of his heart in panic. “It is stupid.”

“Okay,” you say, “new plan.”

Bucky doesn’t look at you. “Is the new plan ‘go back to the cabin’?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you can stay here, but– oh,” he cuts himself off when your words register. “We’re going back?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you said so.”

His eye twitches. “We can’t go back now.”

“You literally just said–”

“Yeah, but you almost fell into a hole. We’re just gonna give up?”

You stare at him. “You’re so confusing sometimes. Can you pick a side?”

“Do whatever you want.”

“And you’ll follow?”

“Conditionally.”

You pat his cheek. “I can work with that.”

____

The cabin is dimly lit, the lantern on the table casting long shadows against the walls.

Outside, the wind has picked up, making the old wood creak and groan like it’s reconsidering its existence.

You’re still ranting.

Bucky, on the other hand, is stretched out on the couch from hell, arm tucked behind his head, looking half-asleep while you pace near the table.

“We could tamper with their equipment. Maybe not destroy it, just… compromise its integrity.”

Bucky cracks an eye open. “That’s literally destroying it.”

“Semantics.” You wave a hand. “Or we mess with their food. Make them sick so they have to drop out.”

“Jesus, no.”

You snap your fingers. “We burn down the cabins.”

“Go to sleep. Stick with the ‘stealing their flashlight plan’.”

You ignore that completely.

“They want to play dirty?” You cross your arms. “We’ll bury them.”

“You almost got buried an hour ago.”

You glare, throwing yourself into the rickety chair by the table.

“You’re not taking this seriously.”

“I did. At 12AM. I’m no longer taking anything seriously at 3AM,” Bucky mutters, shifting to get comfortable. “Go to bed.”

You peek up. “You’re taking the couch?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have to.”

Bucky sighs, voice gruff, low. “I’m taking the couch.”

You frown. “It’s like, the worst couch in the world.”

“Not the worst.”

“It literally is.”

Bucky doesn’t argue but he doesn’t move, either.

You sigh heavily, leaning back. “Where’s the washroom?”

“Outside.”

You blink. “Outside?”

A devious smile curls at the corner of his lip. “Yeah.”

You sit up. “Like– where outside?”

Bucky tilts his head toward the door. “Outhouse.”

A long pause follows before,

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Nope.”

You exhale through your nose, standing abruptly.

“Okay.” You gesture vaguely toward the door. “I’m gonna go suffer through the outhouse now. And then I’ll eat barley for breakfast and die from the plague.”

Bucky snickers, drifting off.

“You sure you don’t want the bed? We can share, if you don’t mind.”

He hums. “What makes you think I mind?”

“Well, you’re sleeping on the birthplace of hepatitis instead of sharing a bed with me.”

“I’m being gentlemanly.”

“Oh, is this a courtship now?”

“Depends. You got a prized cow?”

“I got a witch cat and soon, a gold bust of Bigfoot.”

“Insufficient.”

“I can get Wanda to make me a cow.”

“Goodnight.”

"Did you pick that tree out yet? I saw s real good looking one right outside our cabin if you--"

"Good night."

______

The morning rolls in slow, mist curling between the trees, the cold settling into the damp wood of the barely functional cabin.

You wake up to the sound of Bucky moving around, the floor groaning beneath his weight.

You blink, squinting at the weak light filtering through the window.

“What time is it?” you mumble.

Bucky, dressed to the nines in his black hoodie and black pants, shrugs. “Dunno. Afternoon.”

You groan, rubbing your face. “You’re one of those people who wakes up before their alarm, huh?”

Bucky grabs his hoodie off the chair. “I wake up before your alarm.”

“Did you sleep at all?” You question. "I heard you tossing around all night."

He stifles a yawn. “Someone kept scratching against the door every half an hour.”

“What, like a ding dong ditch? That's so fucking lame.”

“People take this shit way too seriously,” he grumbles. “We missed breakfast, by the way.”

You swing your legs over the bed, stretching. “You making food?”

Bucky scoffs. “One spark and this place burns to the ground.”

“We’re stealing from another team, then.”

“Yeah.”

____

The campsite is already alive, teams hunched over maps, adjusting equipment, eating protein bars like they’re rationed war supplies.

You survey the scene, arms crossed, still mildly bitter about last night.

Bucky is too droopy-eyed to care. He could frankly lie down on the ground and go to sleep right now.

Jason’s team is hyper-focused, planning some over-complicated strategy.

Meanwhile, the scientist trio is sitting in a loose circle, drinking coffee, looking completely, utterly relaxed.

Your eyes land on their camera setup.

A good camera. A professional rig.

And a shovel. With dirt on it.

With the tenacity of a circus acrobat, you immediately jump to conclusions.

You nudge Bucky.

He glances at you, mid-bite of a protein bar he definitely didn’t pay for.

You tilt your head slightly toward the table. “It wasn’t Jason.”

Bucky’s eyes track the direction of your stare.

"Having a shovel doesn't mean it was them."

"you see anyone else here with shovels? Look at them. They're mocking us by displaying it out in the open right now."

"Sure. Whatever you say, sweetheart." He yawns, before he stops midway.

You, however, don't seem to notice the sleep-ridden comment that slipped out from him, for which he is grateful. He also decides that he and delirious self is too dangerous to be around you now.

“Do we kill them?” you ask.

"Bit much.”

You huff. “Sabotage them?”

Bucky nods.

You cross your arms, watching them laugh, completely unbothered, completely unaware that they’ve just become your worst enemies.

You plaster on a smile.

“Alright.” You turn to Bucky. “I got a plan. Let's go, partner.”

Bucky makes no effort to finish his protein bar faster, still fixated on where the fuck the term of endearment came from and why it slipped out instinctually.

Most of the teams are already mobilizing, gearing up for another thrilling day of hiking miles and miles through rough terrain in search of a cryptid that does not exist.

You’re currently devising the most elaborate sabotage plan imaginable.

You’re sitting on a tree stump near the cabin, arms crossed, staring daggers at the flannel trio.

Bucky, meanwhile, is standing beside you, now with a paper coffee cup he's attained from somewhere. The coffee is shit. It does not help.

After you spend 10 minutes explaining the most elaborate set of diagrams and graphs, you tilt your head toward him.

“So that's the plan.”

“Right,” he says, with all the confidence for someone who has no idea what you've been talking about.

“So how do you wanna do this?”

Bucky grunts. “Do what.”

You gesture vaguely toward the trio. “Ruining their lives.”

Bucky sips his coffee. “I’m going take a nap.”

You blink. “They ruined our first night!”

“I think they did us a favor.”

Your jaw drops.

Bucky doesn’t even react.

Just downs the last of his coffee, tosses the mug onto the cabin’s front step, and turns toward the door.

You watch him go, completely baffled. “It’s broad daylight!”

Bucky waves a hand lazily. “Give me like two hours. I'll help with whatever once I'm up.”

You watch as he steps inside, not even bothering to close the door properly.

Bucky hopes the couch swallows him whole.

Sweetheart.

Jesus Christ.

______

The day drags on, teams disappearing into the forest, hiking miles into nothingness in search of a creature that absolutely does not exist.

At some point, the sun dips low, the sky turning a hazy orange.

Bucky wakes up slowly, the kind of waking that comes with a vague sense of disorientation, the heavy quiet of the cabin settling thick around him.

His brain catches up in pieces.

The weight of the blanket over him, which he definitely didn’t get for himself.

The smell of coffee sitting on the table nearby.

The lantern glow, still softly flickering, meaning someone had kept it on.

He watches it for a second, expression unreadable.

He pushes up with a groan, stretching his arms overhead, rolling his neck to get rid of the stiffness.

And then he notices.

You’re not here.

Your notebook is still open on the table, full of chaotic, barely legible scribbling. A pen tossed carelessly on top.

Bucky exhales deeply, rubbing his hand over his jaw, waking up properly now.

Just sits there for a moment, drinking the coffee you left for him, letting his mind catch up.

Because, realistically you’re fine.

You’re probably running whatever dumbass sabotage plan you spent all day coming up with.

…But.

Bucky sighs, pushing himself fully upright.

Because he should check anyway.

Because it’s late.

Bucky sets the mug down, running a hand over his face.

Then, with a deep breath, a stretch, and the slow realization that he is awake now and might as well do something about it—

He grabs his jacket, pulls on his boots, and heads outside.

Bucky steps off the porch, rolling his shoulders, stretching his arms, shaking the last bit of sleep off.

The air is cold and crisp, the night quiet in a way that doesn’t quite sit right.

It’s fine.

He’s just gonna find you, help you finish whatever stupid idea you'd schemed up, and then leave.

So he steps toward the trees.

And then–

The ground fucking disappears.

One second he’s walking, fully in control of his life.

The next, he’s airborne.

There’s a brief moment of pure, existential realization.

Suddenly, he is fully submerged.

In cold, thick, swampy-ass water.

Bucky does not move for a second.

Just lets the absolute, soul-deep exhaustion settle into his bones.

"Fucking fine."

It’s dark as shit, his flashlight is gone, and the air smells absolutely rancid.

Something slithers nearby, slow and slick, like something large shifting just beneath the surface.

Bucky tilts his head back, and shuts his eyes. Because of course.

Of course, this is happening.

Of course, he has fallen through something stupid and landed in something worse.

Of course, the literal universe itself has decided that he, a former assassin, a man who has survived war, torture, cosmic-level threats, should now be stuck in some godforsaken backwoods swamp.

He drags himself toward solid land, every step sucking in the mud, his metal hand slipping against the slick earth.

He grunts, pulls, mutters a long string of curses in Russian, and finally hauls himself up onto the dirt, flopping onto his back for just a second, staring at the sky in pure, exhausted disbelief.

He is so fucking done.

He does not investigate.

He does not waste a single second thinking about who might have set this up or why.

He does not care.

What he does care about is getting this shit off of him.

So he hauls himself to his feet, shakes off as much filth as possible, and marches toward the fucking outhouse.

This is a tomorrow problem.

This is actually a never problem because he will close his eyes, go back to sleep, and this will have never fucking happened.

_____

Bucky wakes up slower than usual.

His body aches in a way that suggests something terrible happened last night, which considering that was truly one with mother earth the previous night -- seems about right.

He shifts slightly, blinking blearily at the dim light filtering through the window.

You’re not here.

But that doesn’t mean anything.

Maybe you’re asleep somewhere.

Maybe you’re still out enacting whatever plan you spent all night putting together.

Maybe he should just go back to sleep.

And honestly, he almost does.

Right up until he hears the distant sound of a megaphone crackling to life.

He groans, dragging a hand down his face.

Right.

The results.

Bucky does not care.

He already knows how this goes.

Jason’s team was way too serious, had way too much expensive gear, probably faked some great “evidence” and would be lording their victory over everyone else for the rest of the day.

Which meant if he stayed inside, he wouldn’t have to witness it.

Which meant if he stayed inside, it wasn’t his problem.

Which meant—

Another muffled announcement crackles out, the sound of cheering picking up outside.

Bucky exhales sharply, shoving himself upright.

Fine.

Fine.

By the time Bucky gets there, the entire camp is already gathered.

Some teams look hopeful, some look indifferent, and some already look like they’re preparing to deliver a victory speech.

You are standing front and center, arms crossed, a distinct glimmer in your eyes.

Bucky slows his pace, scanning the situation, suspicion already curling in his chest.

You look far too relaxed.

Bucky narrows his eyes.

The head organizer steps up to the front of the group, clearing his throat, holding a clipboard.

“Alright, folks,” he calls, voice carrying easily over the restless crowd. “After reviewing all the evidence from the last two nights-”

Bucky tunes most of it out.

Jason’s team had the money, the experience, the fake confidence that made up for their lack of real skill.

And you– well.

You had plans.

But those never worked.

“--so, after careful consideration, this year’s winners are…”

A pause.

Bucky doesn’t even brace for it.

But then the announcer shouts your name.

And his.

Bucky blinks.

The camp erupts.

Someone shouts. Someone cheers. Someone yells ‘What the fuck?!’ loud enough to make birds scatter.

Bucky does not react.

Because his brain is not computing this information.

Then, very slowly, very carefully, he turns to look at you.

And that’s when it hits him.

You’re not surprised.

You knew.

You knew before they said it.

Oh.

Oh, no.

And then you whirl around, absolutely beaming, throwing your arms up.

“We fucking won, baby!”

Bucky does not blink.

He does not react.

Because he is too busy trying to figure out how exactly this happened.

Jason, however, is reacting for both of them.

“That’s bullshit!” Jason yells, shoving forward, gesturing wildly. “We had the best evidence! We had thermal imaging! We had–”

The organizer raises a hand. “The judges took into account clarity, legitimacy, and most of all–”

He gestures broadly. “Entertainment value.”

Jason splutters. “You’re saying they won because it was funny?!”

Bucky’s eye twitches.

Oh, you look way too smug right now.

Jason is still yelling about credibility and journalistic integrity, but Bucky is no longer listening.

He just stares at you.

For a long time.

Long enough for Jason’s yelling to start fading into background noise.

You are grinning like an idiot.

Against his better judgment, against every single instinct in his body telling him to turn around and go–

“…How,” he asks, voice even, slow, “did we win?”

You beam.

_____

The screen flickers, adjusting to low-light, night-vision mode.

The forest appears, eerily still.

Then a loud crash.

A thud.

The camera shakes slightly as the sound of splashing, struggling, muffled cursing filters through the speakers.

And then something emerges from the darkness.

Something large. Moving, dripping with swamp water, stumbling onto solid ground, slow and unsteady, illuminated in the grainy green light.

Bucky leans forward slightly, eyes narrowing.

The figure in the video shakes itself off, turns toward the camera, posture stiff, silhouette looming.

A perfect, pristine, unmistakable image of

Him.

Bucky stares.

Just watches himself hoodie-clad and soaked, disoriented, looking every bit like a goddamn swamp monster crawl out of the hole in full, crystal-clear night-vision.

The Bucky on screen glances up toward the camera, features still in shadow.

“Oh my god. I’m actually recording right now," you whisper excitedly in the background.

Bucky, very slowly, very carefully says, “That’s me.”

You shake your head immediately.

“No,” you say. “I just saw Bigfoot. And I recorded.”

Bucky’s brain stops working.

“Did you fucking dig that pit?”

You raise a hand, defensive. “That was for Bigfoot.”

You pause.

“…Or the other team. Whoever fell in first.”

Bucky stares at the ceiling. “And you submitted this.”

“Correct.”

“And this won.”

“Oh yeah. They loved it.”

Bucky leans back against the couch, glass eyed.

He does not respond.

______

The car rumbles along the road, the last of the wilderness fading into the distance, replaced by stretching highways and the creeping return of civilization.

Bucky is driving, one hand loosely on the wheel, the other resting against his thigh.

You’re leaning against the window, legs folded up on the seat, a half-empty gas station cup in your hands.

And a gold bust in the backseat of the car with a seatbelt on.

Neither of you have spoken since you shoved your bags in the trunk and peeled out of camp before Jason could start asking questions.

“I still don’t know how you set that up.*

You don’t even pretend to play dumb. “The pit?”

Bucky nods. “Yeah.”

“Well,” you say, “I had time.”

Bucky snorts.

A small silence follows.

“I fell into a fucking swamp," he says.

“I know.”

“I was in there for a full minute.”

“I know.”

The radio hums softly, a song playing too low to make out.

"I think we did very well. We have a real career in bigfoot hunting if we wanted."

"I'm good, thanks."

Outside, the highway stretches ahead, endless and open.

You shift slightly, getting more comfortable.

“You ever think about what you’d do if you weren’t doing this?”

Bucky glances at you.

You’re still staring out the window, watching the world blur past.

He turns back to the road, humming low in his throat. “Sometimes.”

You tilt your head, watching him now.

“And?”

Bucky exhales through his nose.

Then shrugs, like he hasn’t thought about it much, like he’s thought about it too much.

“I don’t know.”

You nod, thoughtful.

A beat goes by before you ask–

“You ever think about opening a winery?”

Bucky groans.

You laugh.

And just like that, the drive continues.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

to those who comment and tell me what u think– i love u. ur the sole reason i haven’t abandoned this lil fic. thank u for everything mwah <333333

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Next part

[27spoons]

CRUSH | ACT TWO: IF YOU'RE TOO SHY (LET ME KNOW)

pairing: natalie scatorccio/fem!reader

summary: Two weeks since the night at the party, you find yourself at Natalie's side, again. Nothing ever seems to go wrong when you're together.

wc: 5970

warnings: mentions of drug usage, threatening behaviour, mentions of violence (nothing actually depicted), lowkey some spiraling thoughts towards the end

a/n: i have angst in my pants! sorry this took so long lmao I'm a chronic procrastinator

ao3 / masterlist

PREVIOUS - ACT TWO: RIBS

NEXT - ACT TWO: SMOKE SIGNALS

"We're gonna get stabbed." Are the first words out of your mouth when you turn down a very… unbecoming street.

"We are not gonna get stabbed." Nat snorts, flicking out her switchblade, "If anyone is doing the stabbing, it'll be me." She makes some stabbing motions for effect, her grin wide and goofy at the sound of your laughter.

You two have been hanging out more frequently since that night at the party, and it's been easier than expected. You aren't sure if she feels bad for flirting so aggressively, feels bad for ignoring you the entire party, or something else entirely, but it's been nice getting to know Nat.

"You know, that is not as comforting as you think it would be." You roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth tug upward in a small smile. "Because nothing says 'safe' like my friend waving a knife around while we walk down a sketchy street."

"Friend?" She echoes, raising an eyebrow and twirling the blade once before closing it with a satisfying click. "That what we're calling this now?"

A scoff leaves your mouth in an attempt to hide the blush that's appeared on your cheeks, "Well, I don't know. What else would I call it?"

She shrugs, shoving the knife back into her pocket. "I dunno. Just feels weird to hear someone like you call me a friend."

"Someone like me?"

Nat shoots you a look, "See, I know you're smart. So why you're playing dumb…" She trails off, and you roll your eyes. "Whatever. Here we are, anyways." 

A beat passes before curiosity gets the best of you as you walk past the third building with boards in the windows, "Speaking of… where is here?"

She nods towards a gap in the chainlink fence that looks like it's been cut open with bolt cutters, "Just trust me, Princess."

You aren't sure when you started trusting her. Maybe it was that night she walked you home, and you had an epiphany. Maybe it was the Monday after the party when she showed up at your locker with a cup of hot coffee and acted like it was no big deal. Maybe it was when she started texting you memes at ungodly hours of the night with dumb captions. Or, maybe… it's simply been building over the course of the two weeks since that party.

Whenever it started, you're grateful that it did. Your friends have started telling you that you've been more confident recently, and your parents have noticed that you've been coming home later after school than usual and on days that you'd usually come straight home. They haven't asked why, but even if they did, you'd probably just tell them you've been spending it in the library. 

Well… you're pretty far from the library right now, aren't you?

"Hey," Nat cuts off your train of thought, "You're being quiet. Thinking about me?" She teases, bumping your shoulder before moving the chainlink to the side.

"Thinking about how you still haven't told me where we're going," you shoot back, hoping it's enough to convince her that you were not, in fact, thinking about her.

"Why would I tell you when you can just see?" She shoots you a wide grin, "We're almost there. C'mon."

You make a noise of disagreement as you move through the hole, Nat following close behind you. 

"I'm really hoping this isn't all part of a long scheme to murder me." 

"Oh, trust me." The blonde chuckles as she starts walking down the makeshift path that's begun to form in the ground, "If I wanted to kill you, I would've done it that night we went to the skatepark. Or the night I walked you home. Or any of the occasions I've had you alone. Spending more time with you is a terrible way to draw attention to myself, Princess." She turns her head to look at you, "You've been around me often enough—have you not learned anything?" Nat clicks her tongue and turns her head back.

"No. I don't pay attention to your delinquent activities, Natalie." You grin, taking a few quick strides to catch up with her.

"Oh, yeah?" She shoots a smirk at you that has you almost tripping over a rock, "Well. We're just gonna have to start spending more time together then, Princess."

Natalie doesn’t wait for you to respond. She strides ahead, her boots crunching against the gravel path as if she knows you’ll follow. And you do—because, of course, you do.

You sigh (although it's more of a huff, really) at her comment and continue to trail slightly behind her. "We already spend far too much time together." A beat of silence and a low laugh from Nat prompts you to keep talking, “Are you actually going to tell me where we’re going, or is this another one of those ‘just trust me’ things?”

The blonde shoots you an infuriating grin over her shoulder, continuing those long strides. “It’s always ‘just trust me,’ Princess. Keeps you on your toes.” She turns around to face you, walking backwards. "Plus, surprises are fun, yeah?"

A huff escapes your lips at that comment, "First of all, you're gonna walk backwards into a tree. Second off, I hate surprises." You cross your arms defiantly, "I thought you knew this by now."

"If you hate surprises, you sure keep picking the wrong person to hang out with." She sidesteps a tree behind her without even thinking about it—like she's taken this path enough to know it like the back of her hand, and she probably has. "Because I am just full of surprises. Shit, you still got a bunch more just… waiting to be uncovered. Like Pandora's Box!"

"...isn't Pandora's Box mostly bad things?"

Nat nods in agreement to your statement, that dumb grin reappearing on her face. "Yep. Released evil into the world, or something." A dismissive wave of her hand, "But it's the curiosity that kills. And we both know you are very curious, Princess." 

You huff, glancing away briefly in an attempt to hide the blush that burns up your neck at the tone she uses, "I don't—" Another huff, "Whatever. What's your point, Natalie?"

She shrugs, spinning back around to keep walking, "Nothin', nothin'. Just wondering how bad it's killing you right now to not know where we're going."

The scoff that leaves your lips is far too forced to escape the notice of the girl walking in front of you, and you can almost imagine the grin on her face as you reply, "Not that much." 

Nice. You sound like a whiny child. Good on you, really showing her.

"Sure, sure," Nat says, pushing some overgrown bush out of her path. "C'mon. Almost there. Promise."

You follow her through the bush, almost getting smacked in the face with a branch when you lose your attention for half a second, but successfully make it out unscathed, and you find yourself standing in front of what looks like an abandoned house. The white paint has long since peeled away, revealing weathered and rotted wood underneath. With the way the windows are bordered up, door hangs half-open in the wind, and roof looks half-caved in, you're starting to wonder if you were right about the whole 'her murdering you' thing.

"I can't remember if my tetanus shot is up to date…" You murmur as you carefully step over a broken bottle, a far contrast to how Nat is walking right now, all confidence and swagger. You'd be lying if you said you didn't envy the air of it that she seems to carry with her at all times.

Nat laughs lowly at the comment, shaking her head as she approaches the front steps to the house, "Never gotten one, and I've been fine so far." She briefly glances at you and gestures to the steps, "Watch your footing. It's rotting. Step on the spots that look dry."

You cringe at the comment about the steps rotting and watch carefully which parts she presses on. "I'm starting to think you have a thing for sketchy places." 

"Yeah, well." She shrugs and stops the front door from clattering against the frame, "They’re quieter than most places, y’know? No one bothers you out here.”

"That's because no one wants to come out here."

"Exactly." As you carefully walk up the stairs, she grins at you, "You're getting it, Princess. Pick the places people don't want to come, and you won't be bothered." 

Despite the steps protesting with every step you take, you make it to the top without falling through a rotten wooden plank. Nat gestures for you to enter first, which makes you hesitate for a few seconds, but you ultimately enter before she does.

The interior is… not terrible, surprisingly. Sure, it's abandoned and worn down, but it doesn't smell like death, and the grattifi on the walls gives the place some weird charm.

Nat drops her bag on the ground and stretches, cracking her neck. "Welcome to the 'Not-A-Crack-Den' Crack Den."

You stare blankly at her, blinking a few times. "The… 'Not-A-Crack-Den' Crack Den." You parrot, nodding slightly. "Right. That is… very reassuring, Nat. Thanks so much."

She grins at you as a particularly satisfying crack from her lower back sounds, "What can I say? I pick good names for things." A beat passes before she glances around, gesturing toward a few crates pushed up against a wall with peeling paint, "C'mon, sit. Promise you won't get stabbed by a shard of broken glass or whatever." With a grunt, she hoists herself onto one of the crates, nodding towards one pushed against an adjacent wall.

With great trepidation, you drop your backpack onto the crate before moving to sit on it, glancing down at the dirty floor before meeting her gaze again. "So…" You trail off, waiting for her to tell you why she brought you here.

"So…?" Nat repeats back, glancing at you with a curious expression as she pulls out her pack of smokes, tapping it on her wrist a few times before opening it up. "You gonna finish that thought, or just waiting for me to speak?"

A huff leaves your lips as you cross your arms, "No, well, yes, but—" You groan and rest your head against the wall behind you, "I just… why show me this place?"

Nat scowls to herself at your comment, clearly taking some form of offense to it. "What? Don't want me showing you my hangout spots anymore? Because I don't have to. We can go back to sitting around the school or the skatepark."

"No, no, wait, that wasn't what I meant. I just meant that—" You cut yourself off with a sigh, clearly just as terrible with words as she is. "Like… why this spot in particular? Just… uh… curious. Is all. Sorry. I didn't mean to…" You let yourself trail off again and rub a hand over the back of your neck in frustration at yourself and lack of proper communication skills. 

Cigarette smoke fills the room around you as Nat puffs on the end of a Marlboro Red, a sigh leaving her lips at your words. "No, I…" She scowls again, but this time more to herself than you. "I just wanted to bring you to another one of my spots, is all." She feigns nonchalance, but you can almost physically see the underlying sincerity behind her words.

"Oh." You say quietly, not quite sure how to respond to that.

The silence blooms between the two of you for a moment as Nat pulls drag after drag from her smoke, clearly also unsure where to go from here. 

Eventually, it's clear Nat can't take the silence anymore, and she speaks again with a low grumble, "Don't you have… like… your sketchbook or whatever?" She grunts and stubs the smoke out on the crate before flicking the butt to the ground. "You can, like, draw some inspiration from this place or whatever."

That, surprisingly… isn't the worst idea.

So, you unzip your backpack, pull out a pencil alongside your sketchbook and flip open to a fresh page. An unsure sigh leaves your lips as you glance around the decrepit house, a slight frown tugging at the corner of your lips. "I mean… it's definitely… atmospheric? I guess?"

A scoff parts from Nat's lips as she crosses her arms and leans back against the wall, "Atmospheric?" She chews on the word for a moment, "So… fancy art school talk for 'kinda shitty,' yeah?"

Your frown deepens for a moment before you realise she's just fucking with you, and you roll your eyes as a smile finds its way onto your lips. "No, I mean it. It's… abandoned, but not… forgotten?" You muse, tapping your pencil on the page, "Like there's still some life left in it."

"Shit, Princess." She raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms over her chest, "Didn't take you for a poet, too."

"Shut up." You mumble, glancing down to the page as you start sketching the first thing that comes to mind: Nat.

By now, she's pulled out another cigarette (because, of course, she has). She's idly smoking it as her attention shifts between her phone and you, seemingly just enjoying being in your presence without worrying about ulterior motives.

The first thing you sketch is how she holds it between her fingers, loosely but firmly enough that it won't slip from her them—an interesting juxtaposition, you think. Something about it feels similar to her character, in a way. Regardless, you choose not to linger too long on the thought. 

With the general shape of her hand done—slightly soft but still with visible definition—you start focusing on the finer details. The way her nails are cut so short you can't see the white tips on the ends of them. The slight boniness she has on the knuckles of her fingers. The rings she wears—mismatched with different shapes and colours. The prominent bones of her ring and middle fingers that appear when her hand flexes as she returns the butt of the cigarette between her parted lips. 

This brings you to the next thing you draw—how her lips wrap around the end. Soft and full but chapped. You imagine she's the type to lose every chapstick she's ever had.

You get so lost in this daze of sketching her features, the features that a part of you wishes you could learn more intimately, that you barely even notice Nat hopping off of her crate and walking up towards you, leaning forward to look at your page.

"Whatcha drawing?" She asks, peering over your shoulder to get a better look.

Her sudden appearance shocks you slightly, and you can't help it when you jump and almost send your pencil flying across the room. "Oh, uh!" shit. "I was just, uh, drawing, uh, the—"

"Ho-ly shit. This is wicked." She grins toothily, taking a long glance at the page that you fail to hide from her gaze, "I think you were drawing me, Princess." She points to the small sketch of the cigarette between her lips, "You even got the teeth right. Nice to see you aren't just turning me into a Barbie." Nat slaps your shoulder with her hand as she properly looks at your work once you stop attempting to hide it. "It's good. Real good." Her voice lowers to something more genuine and soft, mirroring the way her expression shifts. "It's, uh, nice. Seriously."

Your face heats up at the compliments, quickly turning your attention away from her. "You're only saying that because you don't know anything about art."

Nat hums, considering that. "Maybe. But I know what I like." She taps the page with her index finger, "And I like this."

A mumble leaves your lips, something that sounds like a meek 'thanks,' but it's quickly becoming clear that the smoker isn't done yet. "I don't show people my spots, you know? Most of the time, they either ruin it or just… don't get it."

A beat passes before you glance back up at her, "I… you think I get it, then?"

She meets your gaze, her expression shifting into something you can't quite place, and leans in slightly. "I think you get a lot of things about me that other people don't."

You swear time pauses, but that could very well just be your heart ceasing its beating, but the moment is gone all too quickly when you hear the creaking of wood and hushed chatters of… what sounds like a group of men.

"Fuck." Nat hisses, immediately pulling back and darting her eyes towards the door, "I didn't fucking think we'd have company right now. Shit."

You shake your head in confusion, "Wait, wait, company? Other people come here, then? Should I be—" Your words are cut off abruptly when a trio of men step into the house one by one. 

The first one, evidently the leader, sports a battered leather jacket and stone-washed jeans. His dark unkempt hair frames a crooked scar that stretches from the corner of his left eye to the bridge of his nose.

A low laugh spills from his lips when his steely eyes land on Nat, and the grin that splits his features is nothing short of feral. "Oh, shit! Scatorccio! Was wondering when we'd see you again."

Nat scowls at him, one of her hands reaching to rest on the handle of her pocket knife by habit. "Denny." She spits, "I was wondering when you'd end up dead. Shame it hasn't happened yet." The venom that drips from her words makes you shrink into yourself, genuinely surprised to hear her speaking with such a tone when she's been mostly calm with you.

The man, Denny, laughs again and scratches his chin as he speaks, "Yeah, bet you'd like that. Would be real convenient for you." 

He's about to keep speaking when one of his goons—a shorter man who honestly looks twelve—nudges him and points to you, sitting idly on your crate, sketchbook clenched tightly in fear.

"Oh, shit." Denny takes a step in your direction, and Nat's hand tightens around the handle of her blade, but she makes no effort to step in his way. "When did you start hanging around the…" He gestures vaguely to you and your form, "Loser type?"

A laugh spills from his lips, immediately echoed by the two men standing in his shadow, and this time, Nat does step forward. "Who the fuck I hang out with is none of your business, Denny." Her eyes flash to the man who nudged him, "At least I pick the ones that don't act like they need to fucking live in my shadow, Jackson."

Jackson, you assume, scowls at Nat but doesn't bite back with a comment of his own. 

Denny’s grin falters ever so slightly, a shadow passing over his features as his eyes dart toward Nat. "Careful, Scatorccio. Wouldn’t want you getting too comfortable running your mouth, yeah? Might get you into trouble."

Nat scowls at him again, "I don't give a shit where my mouth gets me, Dennis. I've spent more than a few nights behind bars. I'll do it again."

The man chuckles, but it’s colder now, devoid of humour. "Right, right. That's real cute, Scatorccio. But we both know I'm not talking about being in a prison cell. What's it been now, huh? A month? Two?" He tsks and shakes his head, "I'm keeping track. Are you?"

You see the way Nat tightens her jaw at the comment, "I don't owe you shit." 

Denny—Dennis?—lets out another cruel laugh, "See, that's the funny thing about debts, yeah?" He takes a step towards her and, by extension, you. "They don't just… handle themselves. And your old man… well, I don't see him handling them anymore. Not that he ever really did, anyway." He spits on the ground as he looks towards you, nodding his head in your direction. "Say, your little friend here know about daddy's little tab? Or you keepin' that piece of information to yourself?"

"This isn't about her." She says immediately, "Leave her out of it. This is about us."

"Mm, no." He shakes his head, "I think you got things mixed up here. You brought her here, so now she's involved. You know we like to come 'round here. You seriously telling me it's such a shock we did?" He scoffs and crosses his arms, "But hey, I’m a reasonable guy. You hand over what you owe—or come up with a reason for me to walk out of here without making a mess—and maybe we won’t have to get anyone else involved."

Nat stands her ground, but the way her fingers curl tighter around the knife’s handle tells you just how thin the ice is beneath her. You catch her glancing at you out of the corner of her eye, and the faintest trace of panic flickers across her face.

Which, in turn, makes you panic. Not that you weren't already, but it becomes far more visible on your features now. 

"You should leave." Nat mumbles to you, nodding her head to a rear door, "You shouldn't have to be involved in my shit."

Seeing Nat's head move, Denny nudges the remaining unnamed man who came in with him, and the guy heads towards the rear exit. "Nah. We're here, and we're gonna work somethin' out. Ain't that right, boys?" The two men nod their heads, and the one that looks like a literal child cracks his knuckles, and although it really isn't that menacing, it scares you all the same.

"So," Denny speaks after a moment, clearing his throat as his grin returns, "what's happening, Scatorccio? 'cus I doubt you got the cash on you to pay this off right now."

Nat fidgets, eyes darting between you and him nervously. "I told you I was working on it." She mumbles under her breath, which earns her a cruel laugh from Denny.

"Yeah, and you've had two months to work on it, sweetheart." The pet name comes out as an insult, and the unnamed man snorts at the use of it. "And, honestly? I'm done fucking waiting for you to pay up. I'm a reasonable man, Natalie, but even I have my fucking limits."

The blonde swallows nervously, knowing damn well she's outnumbered and you are far from a fighter, so she removes her hand from the handle of her blade and tentatively approaches Denny, speaking low enough that you can only make out a handful of words, most of which are swears.

It's a solid two minutes of them talking, and you trying not to actively have a panic attack with the way the other two men are looking at you before Denny claps his hands and steps back from Nat.

"I expect you to be there, Scatorccio. If you aren't?" He clicks his tongue, "I think that I'll be paying the trailer a visit next time. Maybe say hi to Vera, yeah?"

Nat doesn't say anything back to that as the men filter out of the house, but it's more than clear that she's shaken from the encounter. 

She doesn't face you again for thirty seconds after they leave, and she can't meet your eyes when she does. You see her jaw set uncomfortably tense, and her eyes flicker from point to point, but never to yours.

"Nat…" You trail off, not even noticing that you've clenched your notebook so tight that the page has started to rip, "Who… who were those guys? What… debt?"

"It's none of your business." She snaps immediately, eyes meeting yours now, "You weren't supposed to see or hear any of that. Just wrong place at the wrong time."

"But I have seen it." You murmur, glancing away from her and down to the ripped page, "I just… I don't know what it means—"

"And you won't." She cuts you off, "Because this point of conversation won't ever be brought up again, yeah? A one-time thing."

You frown and stand up from the crate, still clenching the book tightly. "It didn't seem like a one-time thing—"

"Drop it." Nat says, her jaw tightening.

"But I can't." You shoot back before you can stop the words spilling from your lips. You take a shaky breath, and everything you just witnessed is sinking in. "I can’t just pretend I didn’t see that, Nat. They… they threatened you. Your mom.” Your voice cracks slightly, but you push through. “And I have no idea what the hell is going on, but I care about you, okay? I can’t just let it go."

She laughs, cruel and sardonic. "Care about me? You don't fucking know me. You don't know shit. All you think you know is what you've pieced together from a few hangouts and some rumours. That's it."

“That’s not fair,” you counter, your voice rising slightly. “you don’t let anyone know you, Nat! You hide behind all this—this bullshit bravado and sarcasm because you think it’s easier than letting someone in.”

"Yeah?" Nat sneers, her voice cutting through the stale air surrounding you, "Well, maybe it is. Maybe it's easier to keep people like you at arm's length so I don't have to deal with… shit like this." She gestures between you, movements sharp and erratic, "You don't want to be a part of this world, Princess," The pet name rolls off her tongue in a way that makes you cringe and recoil into yourself, the once gentle name being used as something far more cruel, "so stop trying to be."

"You don't get to decide that for me!" You finally snap, stepping towards her in frustration as you throw your sketchbook down onto the crate you were sitting on, "I'm standing right here, Nat! I'm not going anywhere. And, yeah. Maybe I don't know everything about you. But I want to!"

Her breath catches slightly at your words, and for a brief moment, the mask she wears slips. But it’s back just as quickly, replaced with a hardened expression as she hisses, “You’re wasting your time.”

"Maybe." You murmur, taking another tentative step towards her, "But I don't think you get to decide that for me."

The words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. Nat doesn't move, eyes boring into yours, and for a long moment, you worry she's going to say something scalding or just leave; the distance between the two irreparable. 

But, then, she's moving, crossing the short distance between the two of you in a single stride. Her hands grip your arms, both firm and uncertain, and before you can process what’s happening, her lips crash against yours.

You have no idea what's happening if you're being honest. Sure, you've had a few kisses before, but they have been like this. This passionate and intense, this filled with emotion. 

Nat kisses you with an urgency you've come to expect from her, and she doesn't half-ass anything; it's all or nothing, and this is no different. 

At least, at first. 

Then, she realises that you aren't kissing her in return, and she releases her hold on you, stumbling back a few steps and swiping at her mouth. 

Silence blossoms again as you stand there and stare at her, lips still tingling from the sudden crash of hers against yours, and you stare at her with your jaw slack. You aren't sure if you're even breathing at this point. Everything feels like it's balancing on a knife edge, just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Fuck!” She hisses under her breath, raking her hands through her hair. “Why the fuck did I—God, why are you like this?”

You blink and shake your head a few times, still in shock, but now even more so. "Wait, wait, hold on, what?" Finally, when you get your head back on, you only get more confused. "Why am I like this?" You snap at her, expression shifting from surprised to hurt. “Why are you like this, Natalie? One second, you’re—” You cut yourself off, throwing your hands in the air. “You’re impossible!”

Her laugh is sharp and humourless. “Me? I’m impossible?” She takes a step forward, frustration etched into every line of her face. “So what’s the point of you coming out with me if you’re just gonna be a fucking uptight bitch about everything, huh?”

"Wasn't it you that told me I needed to live a little, Natalie?!" You yell back, equally as frustrated. "And wasn't it you that said I should learn to say no?! God, why are you being like this?!"

She scoffs, "Has it occurred to you that maybe I would like you better if you just fuckin' took your clothes off, Princess? Huh?" She takes a step forward, "Even you aren't thick enough to see that I've been flirting with you for weeks."

That stings in a way you weren't expecting it to. You take a momentary step back, face contorting, "Fuck you, Scatorccio." You hiss at her, taking a step forward again and jabbing a finger into her chest, "Has it occurred to you that maybe I would like you better if you actually opened up about shit? Huh? Even you aren't thick enough to see, I've been trying to get you to open up for weeks!" You say, throwing her own words back at her.

"Listen, Princess," She sneers, jabbing her finger in your chest, "I'm just tryna fuck. Maybe you should get that through your fucking skull." But, even as she says it, and as much as the words sting, there's a waver in her voice as she says it like she doesn't really mean it but doesn't know what to say in this situation.

"Well, I'm not. And if that's all you want, then you have the wrong fucking person." You cross your arms defiantly, "You should have known that from the start, burnout."

Natalie's lip twitches in displeasure, but she seems to hesitate before saying whatever she is going to and instead opts to scoff and take a step back. "Whatever, nerd. Have fun with your fucking calculus textbooks and your neat little bubble." Then, she turns around and stalks off, slinging her backpack over her shoulder before burying her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket.

And then she’s gone, turning on her heel and stalking off into the shadows, leaving you standing there, raw and reeling, wondering how the hell it all went so wrong so fast.

You glance around the decrepit house, the air feeling much colder than when Nat was with you. The building no longer feels like there's life left in it—but rather, devoid of it. Empty and barren, mirroring the way you feel right now. You hate the place your thoughts take you to—the dark void that plagues you from time to time.

You look back down at your sketchbook, pages half torn and splayed wildly across the top of the crate you formerly used as a chair, and a shaky, weary sigh leaves you.

Gingerly, trying to stop the shaking in your hands, you slowly pack up your belongings, actively avoiding the way you etched her likeness into your book (and mind) as you do. Every move you make echoes in the space; the ruffling of pages and closing of your backpack zipper might as well sound like a plane taking off. 

You hadn't even spent that long with her today. You two had plans; she said after this that the two of you would go to that diner on fifth that serves breakfast all day. Maybe eat some shitty pancakes and get a milk-stache from a milkshake. 

But… the longer you think about it, did she even want that? Did she truly just… want one thing? Did she just see you as a body to use to pass the time with? A fleeting attraction that would fade once she got her fill? Playing the long game, just to see if it changes how the sex is?

Was that all she wanted?

The wooden steps protest under your weight as you leave the house, the wind picking up and pushing the door shut behind you—almost like a metaphor for something you'd rather not think about right now.

Gravel crunches beneath your feet as you step off the rotting porch, the cool evening air biting at your exposed skin. You pull your jacket tighter around yourself, wishing it could shield you from the ache settling deep in your chest.

Your feet carry you, almost on autopilot, down that same path that Nat had taken you through earlier, but it doesn't feel nearly the same. What was once exciting, thrilling, something out of your comfort zone… now just feels like a harsh reminder of what transpired between you. Empty and desolate. 

Fuck. When did you become so… tragic?

The streets are quiet. It’s almost eerie, the way the world seems to hum with an indifference that mirrors the hollow ache inside you. Your mind keeps replaying her words, the venom in them, the hurt you saw behind her eyes that she so desperately tried to mask with anger.

Why did it feel like she was pushing you away the second it felt like there would be any form of struggle within your relationship?

Better to hurt than be hurt, you suppose.

You stop under the dim glow of a streetlamp, your breath visible in the cool air. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, startling you from the train of thought you were stuck in. You fish it out, half expecting it to be her, even though you know better. It’s just a notification about some school assignment being due soon—something that feels insanely trivial right now.

Shoving your phone back into your pocket, you continue to let your brain send you down a path of thoughts you really shouldn't be letting it take you down. When she had leaned in earlier, voice uncharacteristically soft, telling you that you understood her in a way that others didn't… for a moment, you believed that maybe this could be something more.

But now? Now, you aren't quite sure what to believe.

You let your feet guide you down streets that are both familiar and foreign, not even registering the houses or buildings you walk past. 

Maybe this is who she is, you think. Chaotic, unpredictable, and closed off. And perhaps you can't change that, no matter how much you want to.

Maybe you don't want to. You just want to know why she is the way she is. An insight into the brain of Natalie Scatorccio. Something that people would likely pay to see.

Maybe… maybe she's just scared. Like you, but confronting her fear differently. 

When you finally reach your door, you linger on the porch, staring at the peeling paint on the frame and letting the silence stretch. The sound of the Monroe kids across the street playing basketball, the dog tied to the post a few houses down barking, and the wind shaking the leaves in the trees fill your ears and give you some clarity in this strange situation.

By the time you finally crack the front door to your house open, your mother is cooking something over the stove while idly bickering with your father as he leans against the countertop, neither of them noticing your entrance.

You'll eat your food and try to sleep, but realistically, you'll just stare at your ceiling and replay every aspect of your interaction with Nat for hours, and sleep will never come.

Fucking Natalie Scatorccio.

Fuck Natalie Scatorccio.

Fuck Natalie Scatorccio and the way you still fucking care about her.

Fuck.

a/n: man, when i said this chapter would be hard to write, next chapter... oof. next chapter is gonna be heavy in so many different aspects. you will both hate and love me, if you don't already. <3333333333

[dolloie]

“girlfriend effects” ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) 

habits that they develop from dating you.

pairing. bf!riize x fem!reader. warnings. insane usage amount of the word 'like' mentions of food, dizzy, cursing, kissing and marking (not heavy though!) marriage on anton one! rara's letter. giggled to much on the seunghan's one..

— shotaro & buying things that remind him of you.

he would buy everything that reminded him of you.

and prolly would update you even when you're asleep.

taroro <3: look what i got :D this kinda reminds me of you!!

he would buy literally ANYTHING even when it's so expensive that out of his budget.

especially when he's on vacation in his hometown.

having a bunch of plushies and keychains that look exactly like you.

keychain on his bag, sticker on his laptop, plushies all over his room.

then he'll buy a keychain that looks like him for you!!

you MUST hang it on your bag or wherever you want just, please, show it off.

he loves it sm.

this boy will giggle all day until you're tired.

— eunseok & bringing your essentials with him everytime.

like i said on my previous bf headcanons!

he would, and he has everything!!

your hair tie was missing? don't worry, he has one on his wrist.

your lips dry? he'll pass the chapstick, lip balm or any lip treatment without you asking.

omg what if your keys are gone somewhere??? bae he has your keys all the time in his bag.

you're just clumsy, but luckily your perfect boyfriend would come to the rescue everytime!

you felt dizzy all of a sudden? girl, he has a whole bottle of water and the medicine prepared.

the members would probably ask why he has a hair tie on his wrist.

all of them are just like they didn't believe that the song eunseok. carrying your items everywhere?? unbelievable.

and, no. he wouldn't take it off, even though the members were teasing him to death.

it's important for you!! why would he take it off?

— sungchan & kissing you everytime he got a chance.

this man has an obsession with your lips.

trust me when i say he has, he has.

i might throw the "chance" aside..

bcs BOY, HE WOULD KISS YOU EVEN IF YOU WERE TALKING WITH HIS MEMBERS.

bro is that down bad 😭🙏🏻

he doesn't give a fuck, even when his members are teasing him for being too clingy.

he just loves you too much, and maybe that counts for your lips too.

wouldn't be ashamed if your lipstick stuck on his lips.

it's the other way, he absolutely loves when your lipstick marks him and would be proud of himself.

he can't stand the fact that he hasn't kissed you yet.

like everytime, i mean everyday, at least three kisses before he can go on with his day perfectly.

even when he's far away from you, a virtual kiss would do.

bro has a whole album of kissing memes.

— wonbin & doing your hair.

he loves it when you talk about how your day went.

bcs those faces that you make when focusing are just so cute.

but then a hair piece falls in front.

he will tuck it behind with a school girl in love kind of smile 🥹

like he's felt like falling in love all over again.

it felt like a romantic movie that he never expected to have.

everything is like a slow motion to him.

he loves it when you decide to tie up your hair!!

then he loves to braid, wash, dry, and brush your hair.

especially when you had a busy week and had no time to wash or do your hair.

he'll let you rest and let him do your hair.

everything is on him, don't worry!!

— seunghan & back hugging you.

this mann T^T

okay now imagine you're in the same house as him.

when you wake up just to see this fine man hugging you from behind.

legs and hands all entangled with you.

buttt if you're not next to him when he wakes up.

be prepared to get the tightest hug from behind.

yeah, the kdrama scene.

which the female lead is cooking or preparing breakfast for the male lead.

then boom, back hugs.

place kisses all over you. neck, cheeks, forehead, and the temple of your head. hair. the back of your hands.

"i'm expecting you to be by my side when i wake up.."

so whinyy

how much you love him for this, but he gotta let go!!

or else no breakfast for the day.

— sohee & everyday text with you.

it's a must for him.

you're asleep? good.

bcs you'll wake up with a whole ass paragraph from him.

really really love sending you pictures of him doing almost everything.

eating, practicing, even before sleeping.

he'll update you everytime he gets the chance!!

absolutely adore when you decide to send him the pictures of you back to him.

asking how your day went.

when you say it was suck, he will go straight to your house without warning.

he's far away from you? not a problem.

face timing is the solution, so go!

would never end the call, even when you've already fallen asleep after telling him your whole day.

screenshots of your pictures and put them as his new wallpaper ^3^

— anton & planning almost everything.

you know, how was this man obsessed with planning everything??

like he has everything organized.

so you don't need to worry that your date is on the same day and at the same time as your work or school.

bcs that would never happen!!

try to think of anything that you would never think of happening.

marriage ‼️

like yeah, he would have a whole note about the wedding theme.

what types of or where would you both go for the honeymoon

man is so delusional.

he's so in love with you that he has already planned everything, even though there's still a long way to go :(

it's the summer time for him!!

your favorite snacks? check. your favorite place to go? check. your favorite activities? check.

you just need to pay him back with a lot of kisses and cuddles.

© CALLANTON. all right reserved. do not copy, use, steal my work and post. ౨ৎ

[revelboo]

I'm like that meme of the girl being offered like 10 plates of pancakes at once, I can't keep up with all this delicious food, thank you for all of this 🙏

You’re welcome, glad you like my silliness

Everything is Alright Pt 47

IDW Starscream x Reader

18+ content 🌶️

• There’s so many things he wants to say, but nothing comes out because fear has him by the throat. The worry that one impulsive action has ruined everything between you two. Especially as your face reddens and you look away. Like you can’t look at him. Maybe he’d been too rough. Or maybe you regret what you’d done with him. He wants to pull you close, hold you, but you won’t look at him and he can feel his wings beginning to tremble. Because it’s all wrong. Why had he thought he deserved to have this, too?

• Face flushed, you don’t know what to do now, because this is so much worse than your worst awkward first time with someone new. He’s just staring at you and you have no idea what he’s thinking. What he wants, because his spike is still buried inside you and he’s not said a word. Maybe it’d been weird to him, maybe your two species aren’t compatible at all even if you fit together that way. Because something’s clearly upsetting him, his wings wracked with those faint tremors like he’s angry. And suddenly you’re fighting against tears you don’t wholly understand.

• Slipping free of your wet heat, he wishes you’d say something. Anything. Instead, your eyes go shiny and wet with tears. Sitting back, he drags you into his lap, hooking an arm around you when you try to twist your back to him. Trying to hide from him again. Why now? “I hurt you,” he growls, trying to catch your chin in his servos to make you look at him. Of course he had, it’s all he’s ever been truly good at. Burning every good thing he has to the ground before it can be taken away or turned against him.

• You try to shake your head as he grips your chin and forces you to meet his optics. Searching for something in your eyes. “You didn’t,” you reassure him, unable to say the rest. To ask if you’d done something wrong, if it hadn’t been good for him. Venting heavily, he swipes a servo under your eyes, his expression rueful like he doesn’t quite believe you. “You didn’t say anything after,” you finally manage, pulling against his grip, because you really just want to hide your face against him and he lets you.

• “Neither did you,” he murmurs, trying to figure this out in tentative little steps. Was this okay? Really okay? It doesn’t seem right that he’d be allowed this, when he already has so much of you. “We’re both awful at this,” he says with a huff of laughter, tucking your head under his chin, arms curling around you. “But for Primus’s sake stop crying.” Because he can feel your tears wetting his mesh. Feel as you give a hitching little laugh and that awful, painful awkwardness between you eases just a bit. Little steps forward.

• Somehow it’s almost a relief that he’s as awkward as you are. And funny in a decidedly unfunny way when you realize how it must have looked to him when you started crying right after. Oh, no guy human or otherwise would love that. That’s what makes you reach up to pull his head down and arch up in his grip to kiss him. Feeling his arms tighten around you, his spike stirring where it’s trapped between your bodies as his low growl rumbles through you. Trying to tell him all the things you’re too awkward and scared to say out loud.

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[petite-siren06]

Sonic.Exe x Chubby GF [Headcanons]

[For clarification the Sonic.Exe I’m going to be using is X from Sonic Legacy aka Friday Night Funkin: Rodent Rap] {So if you don’t like FNF you can politely leave and click not interested}

[Not Proofread]

~•Banner by Ad0rey on pintrest•~

★ Okay, so first off how did you manage to get this guy to not kill you let alone date you??

★ Despite the differences in body structures and personalities plus the fact he's an anthropomorphic hedgehog and you're a human is very surprising..

★ Also surprisingly he doesn’t really mind the difference between you and him, in fact he actually likes it. He’s always been interested in humans whether it be for horrific or non-horrific reasons.

★ Like in my previous post since he really ain’t that tall. When he’s trying to be intimidating it is not really that scary to you since you’ve gotten used to him and his presence. He’ll catch you off guard sometimes since he’s sonic [But not really] so of course he’s just as fast as him.

★ But he can say some disturbing ass shit that will frighten or startle you but if he feels like he’s gone too far he will apologize to you but don’t expect him to do that for anyone else. Since you're close to him only you get that privilege.

★ But also because of your closeness to him he will sometimes want you to inflate his ego. If you do participate in boosting his ego [That’s probably bigger than Jupiter /j] expect him to get very cocky and rant about his accomplishments but don’t worry he’ll give you a break if it gets “too awesome to handle.”

★ But if you don’t he’ll roll his eyes and say that you're missing out on a ton of great stories and achievements he’s done.

★ This guy is obsessed with you and your body. He is aware that humans have different personalities, body types and features. Though he’s never encountered a human that had the nerve to challenge him but was also acutely aware of their disadvantages. This intrigued him quite a bit.

★ Plus the way you carried yourself, the way your outfit made you look very attractive but very modest at the same time. The way your hair framed your soft features in such a delicate way. He knew he was hooked whether that was a good or bad thing he didn’t know and he also didn’t really care.

★ If you have any Sonic merch, be on high alert because he’s the number one Sonic fan. [He told me himself /j] He might borrow your Sonic stuff but don’t worry he gives it back to you in the condition it was found in.

★ Does anyone know the “I wonder what I taste like” meme. Yeah, that’s you and him. You would be asking the question obviously and X would have one of two thoughts in his head. The first one would be him biting your chubby tummy or thighs and the second one would just be a normal make out session.

★ Since you’re a bit thicker than a lot of his other victims I can see him using you a personal heater if he gets too cold. He also likes biting and leaving marks on you mostly on your thighs and your sides but if he feels threatened by another person he’ll bite the crook of your neck but if he bites you too hard or if you have skin issues he’ll find some other way to make others back off and let them know that you belong to him.

★ He also likes the feel of skin. It's so soft and squishy. The way your plush stomach looks as soft as a cloud, the way your cheeks puff up with food while you're eating, or the way your thighs expand when you sit down. If he sees you sit down he will legit go up to you and say this. “Damn your thighs be looking kinda grabable.” in a playful/teasing way.

★ If you ever feel insecure about yourself. He might not be the best to confide in because once again he’s known for torturing and killing humans not comforting them but he’ll try his best to help you. Whether it be by listening or physical touch. Maybe he’ll sing or hum some Sonic themes from some of the games he’s seen you play.

★ I feel like he goes into his normal sonic form to trick you. It definitely worked a few times in the past but since you’ve gotten to know him you can see past his tricks. Now it only kinda works if you’ve just woken up and haven’t fully gotten out of the sleepy/tired phase or if you're having an off day.

“Hun.. what are you doing?” You ask X while looking down at him. “What does it look like I’m doing?” He asked as his face deadpanned. A small snicker escapes your lips. “It looks like you're pinning my stomach?” You replied in a teasing tone. X frowns at you while his eyes narrow slightly. “You know.. your stomach do be looking kinda biteable.” X said as he smiled which showed off his sharp yellow teeth. “Okay, Okay.. I’m sorry.” You said in a hurried voice as he laughed.

★ All in All I still think this relationship is sweet in an opposite attract kind of way.

[sugar-crash]

🍬King Candy (Wreck-It Ralph) x (gn) Reader👑

(Beginning Relationship Pt. I Edition!)

(I thought this song would be fitting considering King Candy’s voice is based on the vocal performance Ed Wynn did for the Mad Hatter… That and its… Nostalgic🔑 [I saw the animation meme culture rise and fall.] lol)

- So, as we all know, the more unpleasant parts of his personality (which could tie him to Turbo) are suppressed, and hidden, though they can still peak out when he’s feeling particularly malicious.

- He’s a slime, a real manipulative rat who’s so sure he can keep everyone in the dark, who takes it slow with you at first to try to maintain his hard work.

- There’s a clear wall between what he displays in front of others and how he is, just the way he likes it, but honestly— If you mean so much to him, you get a weird mix of the two (well, more than usual), a kind of sweet goofiness that’s followed up with a snide remark about being the most skilled in some specific topic.

- Again he’s not the best lover, though from his previous indiscretions he has learned to be more open to others feelings— But only for your sake, mostly cause he can’t stand anyone else besides you…. And Sour Bill sometimes, but he’s mostly the personification of a minimum wage worker.

- Spending time together after hours is a must, though he’s more understanding now than he was before, not demanding every moment of your time but relishing whenever you do.

- I think all that time alone before Sugar Rush got plugged in made him lonely, and less stubborn to admit that he wants that comfort from someone else.

- I don’t think it’s much of a far reach when I say maintaining the King Candy persona is something he is very fluid in, but it’s exhausting at times.

- When he gets that seldom time alone without any of his kingly duties he finds himself yearning for your comforting touch, that stubbornness making way as he makes Sour Bill retrieve you.

- I can see moments between the two of you to be on the tamer side, not as many arguments like Pre-RoadBlasters, little to none really, but there are these tense moments where you ask him something a little too close to home and he becomes stiff in your arms if only for a brief moment.

- As much as he wants to be, not only for himself but maybe even you— He isn’t perfect, he isn’t the person he tries so hard to be, that gleeful and peppy voice going flat the second he isn’t feeling it anymore.

- It becomes apparent the more you know him he’s far more serious than he lets on, puffing his chest up slightly when things don’t go his way and he has to play dirty, which he’s certainly no stranger to...

- In comparison to himself when the arcade first ever opened, he’s certainly grown from that childish hatred, for better and for worse.

- He’s more affectionate for one, providing you with comfort fitting to how you are feeling at that moment, little compliments, and gestures of affection to quell your anger and anxiety in a matter of seconds.

- Quick to learn every little thing about you to make sure he’s able to relate to you, though his intentions with this information go back and forth.

- He wants everything on a silver platter, not only for himself but also for you, making the other subjects of Sugar Rush bend over backward for you, even when you object to all the attention.

- I think one of the ways he dotes on you in a way is date planning, various areas in Sugar Rush vary which can be very nice date spots… He seems like the picnic blanket and tea liker as King Candy, as stereotypical as that is lol.

- Though if that isn’t your style, he can always do dates at the castle, like baking— chatting the night away, it’s the simple things in life <3

- Even with his character growth he is far from a good person, which we all know and love for the most part. He’s fully aware that the things he does to bar you, Venallope, the Sugar Rush inhabitants, and even the arcade entirely is cruel, spiteful even. But what could he have done? Let himself fade into obscurity and be characterized after one of his biggest mistakes?

- No, no, not when he still has so much to provide— He’s a person, just like everyone else, better yet he was programmed to be better. Why should he stand aside and let the world spin without him? Why should he look at you from afar when he has every right to want you?

- That’s part of the reason why he’s so adamant about keeping his spot as the monarch of Sugar Rush, he’s the rightful ruler after all.

(Cr cqh’r lncp, hjw cq cr?)

[starberry-cupcake]

oooohhhh boyyyyyyyy Stuff Happened you folks, this might be obnoxious because there was a lot of exposition, let's hope I can keep it decent. As always, sending you all positive vibes in these trying times ♥

previously, in harrowcita del 9:

this happened

CHAPTER 50

30 minutes for emperor destruction, prepare the champagne

gideon is being taken by yandere twin to meet doctor reverend emperor john

she isn't very into that idea, but doesn't have much of a choice

doctor reverend emperor john is having a very important conversation with someone in the room, so gideon and yandere twin hide to listen in

and the conversation is with non other than not!dulcinea

not!dulcinea is being possessed

by commander wake

I ASKED FOR THIS IN THE PREVIOUS ONE

why did you need harrow, then, you dramatic asshat?

so, basically, commander wake's name is actually a couple quotes and lyrics to eminem's song from 8 mile

her name isn't amanda, it's just awake, etc.

I'd take amanda over eminem but ok

they said they are words that date back thousands of years, so we're in the future

I considered this, but not due to book reasons, just because one time I was talking to @lady-harrowhark about one time a barbie of mine was stolen when I was a kid and it somehow related to tlt, this was A Long Time Ago but I thought "what, are the books in the future?"

I have no idea if my hollywood hair barbie had anything to do with the books directly or if it was just some fandom thing @lady-harrowhark knows and I don't, but that planted the idea in my head

if it's a spoiler, don't tell me

but I didn't pick up any clues from the book until eminem

emperor's last name is gaius, which I knew from an untagged non context dashboard post

doctor reverend emperor john gaius wants to know what commander wake was doing in the ninth, because she landed there on purpose

and also is impressed that she's been a revenant for nearly 20 years and doesn't know how she got there

I think it's the sword

so, in come augustine and mercygirl

because now we're having a party

dr reverend emperor john says "Am I in trouble?" because he's the most punchable asshole in the known universe

and introduces commander wake with an evanescence quote rather than an eminem quote

yes, ok, I much prefer that, thank you

thank you, Fallen by Evanescence (2003) you changed my life

so, turns out that commander wake was in cahoots with these two lyctors

but things turned south and gideon the first was sent to kill her

she went to the ninth to break into the tomb

it always comes down to the tomb

ice cube barbie is very popular

so, I was right when I said that gideon wasn't conceived Traditionally

the eggs were my clue on that bit, the eggs on the notes

they were supposed to 1) use dr reverend emperor john's genes to 2) create a baby with his blood to 3) break the blood ward to 4) open the tomb

CONVOLUTED LYCTOR PLANS

but the eggs didn't work, so commander wake decided to birth gideon herself

when I said gideon was a demigod and used hercules memes and when I compared her to superman or whatever

I was more correct than I thought

commander wake called gideon "bomb"

this song could go into the gideon playlist @lady-harrowhark and I were talking about

because we didn't have enough lyctors at this party, in comes gideon the first

from battling the beast, which is what everyone was supposed to be doing, btw, just putting that out there

gideon the first will receive a lot of very clever, funny and amazing nicknames by gideon that I can't even remotely compete with

I vow to you and your prowess for nicknames, queen

gideon the first comes in, removes gideon's glasses from harrow's body, and slides them on his face

commander wake me up before you go go looks at him with heart eyes

and he shoots her

gideon, things were so much easier when you didn't have a family, girl

this is too stressful

everyone is surprised that gideon the first fought the beast, the beast ran and gideon the first is alive

I am NOT SURPRISED because HE WAS FIGHTING ALONGSIDE MATI NONIUS

and ortus, and protozoa, and martita

BUT, MOST IMPORTANTLY, MATI NONIUS

well done team harrow!!!

so, basically, gideon the first didn't say anything about the whole commander wake situation because he thought gideon was his

which accounts for my doubts the other recap on how I thought gideon wasn't Conceived Traditionally but there were doubts from gideon the first's side

gideon prime, gideon zero, gideon senior (all gideon jokes, not mine) says he was with her for about two years

so augustine starts explaining how they got dr reverend emperor john's genetic material through god apate major

WHY AM I NOT SURPRISED

IT'S ALWAYS THE ORGIES, ISN'T IT?

man, I'd rather not know the details, thank you

gideon the first also doesn't want to know the details

the emperor's bolthole wasn't as inexorable as it was advertised to be, turns out

it's basically a revolving door

ANYWAY

the emperor goes "so you killed her and the baby, right?"

IN COMES GIDEON, INTRODUCING HERSELF

"I'm not fucking dead"

and the emperor goes "hi, not fucking dead, I'm dad"

CHAPTER 51

gideon starts remembering childhood things like suffering and fighting with harrow and telling harrow that maybe she is the daughter of someone important and they don't know it

"You remember how the fuck-off great aunts always used to say, suffer and learn? If they were right, Nonagesimus, how much more can we take until you and me achieve omniscience?"

man, this is rough

so, the thing about the eyes

gideon apparently has AL's eyes

whose name isn't only Annabel Lee

it's also Alecto

the alecto everyone keeps mentioning in the fandom

so, this explains why seeing gideon's eyes was like seeing a ghost to these lyctors

also why ice cube barbie had gideon's eyes

THERE ARE A LOT OF THREADS GOING ON IN THIS BOARD

GIDEON IS CONNECTED TO A LOT OF PEOPLE

NONE OF THEM GOOD

the lyctors bring back what teacher said in canaan au, about them asking dr reverend emperor john to kill AL aka Annabel Lee aka Alecto aka ice cube barbie

apparently all of them (except for gideon the first) hated her and were low key scared of her and high key scared of what might happen with her around

they think the beasts are coming partly because of her

and whatever dr reverend emperor john did to resurrect her

the emperor says he didn't kill her, he "switched her off"

not successfully, because she's been sort of roaming around

mercygirl and augustine say that everything about this is very sus because what if he didn't kill AL??? and what is going on with the origin of his power???

dr reverend emperor john goes "you both do tend to go overboard on the foreplay"

mercygirl and augustine figured out that harrow's true cavalier had AL's eyes

but it was impossible for a baby to be born with AL's genes

however, it was very probable that a baby had been born in the ninth with the emperor's genes

because they had been planning on that to happen

albeit in a different way, without the human intervention

so, if gideon has AL's eyes but the emperor's genes

it means AL's eyes aren't hers and the emperor's aren't his

the emperor's weird eyes are AL's and gideon's eyes are the emperor's

because.......

he achieved lyctorhood without having to slurp his cavalier aka AL

I'm very interested in this potential situation if we get gideon alive again

but everyone else is pissed off because they had to slurp their cavaliers unnecessarily

yandere twin also decides to join the chat after this

and, apparently, anastasia had figured it out too

the ninth necro who everyone said was the one who couldn't become a lyctor

the one with a room unused

until harrow

the emperor's version of events is that things went off the rails in the process and he had to kill them both

augustine tells dr reverend emperor john to just stop already with his plan of destroying everything

and the emperor says that the man before his resurrection would have hated him to say that

mercygirl then goes "I'll forgive you if you tell me you didn't mean to kill my cav"

and the emperor goes "yes, I'll do whatever"

so he hugs mercygirl

and mercygirl

FUCKING DECIMATES HIM

SHE WRECKS HIM

SHE MELTS HIM INTO NOTHINGNESS

gideon says she's an orphan again while I'm giving everyone a party hat and a piece of celebratory cake

I'M SORRY THIS WAS LONG but we're reaching the end of this book!!! See you next time!!!

[kyoteugly]

If not Buddie, why Buddie shaped? #2

Following my theory that season 7 and 8 are new seasons 1 and 2 on abc, where the writers revisits the big events from character’s pasts and retells them (you can read it here) I want to look closer at new episode 8x06 “Confessions”.

This is all fresh in my mind, I watched the episode like 4h ago, there is a chance I’ll miss something.

Like I said, I think we’re going to see at least 4 more big moments revisited (or rather the emotional state those events invoked) from previous seasons before Buddie goes canon. Kitchen scene, well, will and shooting arc. And one of those happened in this episode! But also so many other things! 

EDDIE:

Starting with Eddie in the confessional. I can’t help but see his fight club era here (call me bias, I love season 3 Eddie so much!). An attempt to find a healthy outlet to his emotions. He’s struggling and fighting with his inner demons, this time instead of rage it’s sadness and loneliness. 

And he is doing it with an outsider's help. Father Brian is like Lena Bosko. Why Lena and not Frank? I think Eddie would just shut on therapy at this point. He needs someone to talk to, someone with opinions and advice, caring enough to want to help but also not afraid to go straight to the point and call his bs - Lena and Father Brian did just that.

Ok. Time to revisit a big event from Eddie’s past - the well. ABC put the call with the little boy trapped in a pipe in episode promo as the red herring. The real purpose of this call was to remind us about the Eddie Begins episode. The important thing from Eddie Begins is that Eddie was alone in the dark pit - and in the end he saved himself. 

So the real connection between those two episodes is not in the call where 118 saves the little boy, but between Eddie coming out from underwater, drawing a deep breath and Eddie shaving a mustache, shedding his mask and dancing, breathing fully again.

sorry for the meme, I'm tired

It’s also interesting that the moment Eddie allowed himself to feel joy Buck knocked at his door.

BUCK:

This one is pretty straight forward. Like I said before, Tommy represents Abby - a transformative relationship - like Buck said himself. The fact that Tommy was engaged with Abby is a really beautiful way to further connect and close both relationships. What leads to the break up from Tommy’s side is also similar. Tommy knows he would fall deeply for Buck, and Abby didn’t come back because she knew she would lose herself in Buck. They were both protecting themselves.

And here is also a little parallel to Ali. Like her, Tommy offers Buck a proper and honest break up, showing maturity, understanding and clear reason why. And yes, Ali was also protecting herself, ending their relationship before they broke each other's hearts.

And one more thing from Buck’s side. The whole Abby thing throws him off. Maddie tells him it’s not a big thing, Josh tells him not to judge Tommy (honestly, Josh’s speech is amazing!) - this calms him down in the end, dating the same woman doesn’t feel awkward anymore. But the questions Josh is asking leave Buck confused. Taking the next step, moving in together - it’s like Buck is trying to prove he really feels those things Josh was talking about (or maybe even compensate for his “freak out”, confirm he’s fully into this relationship). And on some level Buck has those feelings, he cares about Tommy, but more than that, he simply feels he should be on the level Josh suggested and he wants this to work. It’s Buck’s impulsiveness coming to play, an action that causes reaction in a form of big gesture to confirm his feelings - a nod to his relationship with Taylor.

Fortunately Tommy explains those feelings to Buck (and to the audience) in a very kind way. 

Honestly, their relationship (the last two episodes especially) was handled beautifully, without unnecessary drama, without too much spotlight. It started with fireworks, naturally progressed and faded gently.

The cherry on top: Evan meant something more, something special for Tommy. Ending his goodbye with Buck means “we’re friends now”.

BUDDIE:

There are two things here I want to mention.

Ever since Gerrard separated Buck and Eddie this is the episode where we can see them working together as partners again. And this finally wraps up the divorce era.

The ending scene represents different scenes for each of them, ending different arcs.

For Buck the couch scene represents Abby’s comeback in season 3. He watched her ride off in the ambulance with her fiance (with Eddie solid by his side), and later he got closure from her.

For Eddie this scene represents him being embraced by the 118 after he dug himself out from the well. He’s connected again, no longer alone. 

And of course, the most obvious and sweetest thing - it’s the right couch (and they finally drink that beer).

Bonus MADNEY:

Couldn’t help but notice some revisits here.  Maddie’s postpartum depression is addressed very clearly, nothing to add here. During the pandemic Chimney stayed at Buck’s place, afraid to put pregnant Maddie in danger of catching the virus. Something happened on a call that changed his mind, made him overcome his fear and enjoy the future with his family. The same in this episode. But there is a little twist here and it involves brothers. In season 7 the new audience learned about Kevin. Guess who wasn’t yet introduced (and also took care of Maddie during the pandemic)... yes, I believe this season we will see Albert again. 

That’s it for now. Let me know if you want more posts like this. Feel free to contact me if you want some clarification or just to talk.

Tagging some people who may be interested (if you want me to remove you from this post let me know): @buddiebeginz @stagefoureddiediaz @lemotmo @inell

[tonyspank]

CHAPTER FIVE | GET ME

Jenna Ortega x G!P Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, cheating, and yaaaa Words: 2.7k A/N: couldn't make it as long bc its almost 12 am for me lolll... i will be going to bed

series masterlist | main masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

"Are you being deadass?" Eli asks, sitting up from his bed. You nod your head, pressing the buttons on the gaming controller in front of you. "Yea..." Eli groans, shaking his head. "WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU SAY THAT?"

You shrug, not sure how to answer. Eli sighs and lies back down, covering his eyes with a pillow. "You're so damn lucky that I love you," he says, his voice muffled by the pillow. "She kissed me back! And then she wore her ring again like it never happened." You say, pausing the game and turning around to face Eli.

Eli remains silent. You take a deep breath and wait until he sits up. He looks at you sighing. "They have depth, you guys do not. Plus, you haven't been showing her wifey material these last few days." You take another deep breath and try to explain yourself, but Eli just shakes his head and says, "You need to step it up if you want her to take you seriously."

He begins laughing, "Like that one meme. I'm not the stepfather, I'm the father who stepped up." He smiles, amused by his own joke. You can't help but smile too, despite the seriousness of the conversation. Looking at him, you take a deep breath and nod, determined to do better.

It was Tuesday after school, and again you were avoiding Jenna. She basically rejected you, but that wasn't going to stop you. You were adamant to make things right and treat her better than that asshole Jacob.

It felt like every day you fucked up and had to apologize to Jenna and every time she'd accept it and move on. You wanted to show her that she deserved better. You wanted to make it up to her, to make her feel special. You wanted to show her that you were the right one for her.

"I shouldn't force her into anything. I should be there whenever she needs me, right?" You ask Eli, but after a few moments, all you hear are snores filling the room. You sigh, shaking your head. You know deep down that if you really want to be there for her, you have to respect her decisions.

Letting her make her own choices is the best way to show that you care. You make a mental note to take a step back and give her the space she needs. It's not easy, but you know it's the right thing to do.

"Wait, wait, wait... so you're telling me Jacob was the one calling you?" Emma asks, and Jenna nods slowly in response. Emma looks at the girl in front of her, confused but resuming her assumption. "And he says some bullshit apology that you accept--" Jenna cuts her off, "It wasn't bullshit."

Emma stares at her, unimpressed. "It was complete bullshit," she scoffs. Jenna looks away, swallowing the lump in her throat. Jenna looks away, tears forming in her eyes. She knew what Emma was saying was possibly true, but she still wanted to believe it was sincere. "Don't cry, Jen..."

Emma reaches out and gently wipes away Jenna's tears. "I'm sorry," she whispers. Jenna looks up and nods, a small smile forming on her lips. "Then Y/N confessed to you? I'm still shocked about that."

Jenna takes a deep breath and nods. "Yeah, it was a surprise. She said she remembered our kiss and wanted something more out of it." Emma takes Jenna's hand in hers and squeezes it. "I'm here for you, always." Jenna looks into Emma's eyes and nods, her smile growing wider. She leans in and hugs Emma.

Emma holds Jenna close and whispers, "It's okay, I'm here for you." Jenna nods, feeling relieved and comforted. She pulls away and smiles, grateful for her friend's support. "Thank you, Em."

Emma smiles and wipes away Jenna's tears. "Anytime," she says. They embrace again, and Jenna can feel the warmth and love radiating from Emma.

It's now nighttime. You're back in your room and Jenna's in hers. You didn't talk to her because she hasn't given you the opportunity to. You lay in your bed, texting Eli.

eli - what if she jus farted in ur mouth

you - bro wht

eli - deadass like

eli - ur eating the ass and she jus farts in ur mouth

you - why are we even talking about ass eating?

eli - can u not kink shame me here?

you - im abt to block u

eli - ur so fukcing mean rbo

Jenna exits her room, entering her bathroom. She turns the lights on, raising her phone to take a photo of herself. She was wearing a white silky lingerie nightwear dress. She smiled as she looked at the photo, satisfied with how she looked. She then sent the photo to Jacob, biting her thumb as she waited for his response.

A few moments later, Jacob replied with a string of heart emojis. Jenna smiled, relieved that he was pleased with her look. Her heart began racing as she pressed on to your messages. She started thinking about all the possibilities of what could happen if she sent them to you instead. She took a deep breath and clicked on the photo, her fingers trembling with anticipation. She hit the send button and waited, her heart pounding. She closed her eyes, hoping for the best.

You rise from your bed, exiting your conversation with Eli. You saw the message and opened it. Your eyes widened as the image appeared on your screen.

jen <3 -

She was so fucking gorgeous. Did she mean to send you this? You felt your heart racing as your eyes slowly took in every detail of her. You wanted her, wanted her more than anything. You quickly composed a response, eager to find out if she meant to send it to you.

you - jenna?

you - was this an accident?

Jenna stares at your response, her cheeks turning pink. She takes a deep breath before responding.

jen <3 - no, it wasn't an accident. i wanted you to see it.

She watches as three grey dots appear on the screen, bouncing around every now and then. Her heart pounds in anticipation of what you're about to reply, then it stops as the dots disappear. She stares at the screen in disbelief, feeling a mix of confusion and disappointment. She takes a deep breath and slowly exhales, shaking her head in frustration.

Until she hears your bedroom door open, she quickly leaves the bathroom, meeting you in the middle of the hallway. She looks up at you with a mix of emotions on her face, not knowing what to say or do.

You take a step forward and bring her into a heated kiss. As she begins to relax into it, she wraps her hands around your neck pulling you closer if that was even possible.

You tap on her thigh and she jumps up, wrapping her legs around your waist. You carry her to your bedroom and lay her gently on the bed. You cover her body with yours as you continue to kiss passionately. She moans, her hands exploring your body as you deepen the kiss.

You break apart, your eyes locked on each other, and the heat of the moment intensifies. "You're so beautiful, Jenna." You move your lips to her neck, gently kissing and nibbling as she sighs in pleasure. You feel her body trembling beneath you and you can't help but smile. You pull away and kiss her forehead tenderly, and she gazes up at you with a look of pure bliss.

You lean in and whisper in her ear, "Do you want to continue?" Jenna looks up at you with a small smile and nods. You press your lips against hers and kiss her deeply, your hands exploring her body as you do.

She wraps her arms around your neck as your tongues dance together. You can feel the heat radiating from her body as your passion builds. You break away, both of you breathless.

Her hands reach under your shirt, touching and gripping every part of your torso. She whispers your name, her voice filled with desire. You draw her close and kiss her again. Your longing for her grows with every touch. She takes off your shirt and you do the same for her. She pulls you close and your skin touches, feeling the mellowness radiating from each other.

Her hand leaves your core, and she reaches for your shorts, pulling them slightly. You slide out of your shorts and began kissing down her body, she gasps in pleasure, and you feel the same. "Y/N," she gasps out, tangling a hand in your hair.

You smile against her skin and continue exploring her body. You feel her trembling beneath you as you move lower, and you can feel her anticipation. You finally reach her inner thighs, and you know she's ready for you. Because she's so damn wet. You slide two fingers into her and she gasps, her back arching up off the bed. You watch her reaction, a smile on your face.

You start to move your fingers in and out of her, and her breathing gets more ragged. You feel her muscles tense around your fingers. "So...so good." You lean back down and tease her with your tongue and fingers, driving her wild with pleasure.

Her body trembles and she grabs onto your shoulders to steady herself. You began attacking her clit, flicking it with your tongue as you thrust your fingers deeper and faster. "Y/N! Fuck!" She shudders, her orgasm reaching its peak. "I'm gonna..."

"CUM!!" she cries out in pleasure. You slow down and kiss her softly as she comes down from the high. She wraps her arms around you, her body still shaking from the pleasure. She looks into your eyes, a satisfied smile on her lips. She takes a deep breath and pulls you in for a passionate kiss.

The two fingers that we're just inside of her raise to your lips, and just as you're about to suck them off she stops you, her eyes burning with desire. She does it herself instead, staring at you through her brown hooded eyes, her full lips pressed together tightly, the tip of her tongue darting out to taste the sweet nectar on her fingers. She licks them clean, then leans in and whispers in your ear, her breath hot against your skin. "Lay back, let me return the favor."

Were you dreaming? Again?

You do as instructed. She begins to kiss your neck and nibble gently on your ear. Her hands explore your body, caressing your abs. "I love how fit you are. It turns me on so much." You can feel yourself getting aroused. You can feel her breath on your skin and it sends a shiver down your spine. You turn to her and kiss her and she pulls away too early for your sake.

She lies on your legs, her eyes burning with passion as her hands rest on your sides. You feel your heart skip a beat as you gaze into each other's eyes. Never breaking the gaze she grabs your cock, and starts stroking it with her delicate touch.

You feel a wave of pleasure run through your body as she moves her hands with gentle skill. You can barely hold back your moans as you give in to the intense pleasure.

"Keep your hands on the bed." She lowers her head and takes you in her mouth, her tongue curling around you as you feel her warm breath on your skin. "Oh my." You rasp out, clenching the bedsheets under you. Her tongue moves in circles, exploring every inch of you as her soft lips massage you.

She pauses, her eyes fixed on yours as she licks her lips, her movements becoming more passionate. You can feel the tension inside of you building, as she hums and sucks, pushing you closer to the edge. With one final stroke, pleasure rushes through your body. "Fuckkkk."

She smiles, sitting on your stomach as you are left panting with satisfaction. She leans in and kisses you softly, her hands caressing your face. She sits back up, a hand skillfully reaching behind her, teasing you again with a trail of fingers. You exhale in pleasure as she continues to explore, and you're hard again.

She straddles you again, lowering herself onto your erection. A hand helps while the other rests on your core, scratching you slightly. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. You're so big, baby." You grunt as she begins to move, her body pressing against yours as she rocks back and forth. She leans in and kisses you deeply, her tongue exploring your mouth.

When she leans back up, you grasp her hips, pushing them deeper with each thrust. You're truly in a daze, the pleasure too much to take in. You cry out, throwing your head back.

A quiet smack is heard throughout the room. "Keep your eyes on me." You quickly look up, locking your eyes with her. She smiles, her eyes twinkling with delight, but it fades away as her mouth opens widely, gasping your name out.

Your right hand leaves her waist, travelling up to her face. You cup her cheek lightly, caressing it with your thumb. She then turns her head, sucking on your thumb as her eyes never leave yours. You feel your heart racing, your skin tingling as she looks up at you. She was so fucking hot. She lets go of your thumb with a loud pop, grinning at your reaction.

You move your left hand to slap her ass, and she lets out a yelp of pleasure. You sit up, wrapping your arms around her waist, as she laughs and kisses you passionately. You fall back onto the bed, still holding her close as the kiss deepens.

She pulls away, her eyes full of desire as she whispers your name. "I'm about to cum." You grip her hips as she begins to quiver, her breathing becoming faster. You feel her tighten around you, waves of pleasure radiating through her body. She collapses on top of you, both of you panting with pleasure.

You lay her on her back, and she bites her bottom lip, looking up at you in excitement. You lean down and kiss her, your tongues intertwining as you move in rhythm. You enter her again, and you both let out a sigh of pleasure.

Your movements become more passionate, and her breathing quickens. A hand finds its way around your throat, pulling you back into a kiss.

Your pace intensifies, and her body trembles with pleasure. Her grip around your throat tightens as she reaches her climax, screaming out in ecstasy. "Y/NNNNN!!!" You follow behind, pulling out as your body shakes with orgasmic pleasure.

You collapse onto the bed, the two of you panting and sweaty. You smile and pull her close, your heart beating in unison. She lays her head on your chest, a hand pushing some hair off your forehead. You take a deep breath, content and satisfied.

What was the next step after all of this?

The next morning was just as normal as could be. You're sitting across from each other at the dining room table. You're a bit more smiley than usual and she notices.

"What are you smiling at?" You looked down, blushing. "Nothing," you said. She smiled knowingly and said, "It's okay, I know what you're thinking. I'm happy too."

Your eyes look at the ring on her finger and you clench your jaw, quickly taking a sip of coffee to hide your anger and confusion. She stands up, walks over to you and places herself on your lap. "It's okay," she says. "Let's just enjoy this moment." You look up at her and nod, giving her a small smile.

She wraps her arms around you and leans in for a kiss. You close your eyes and feel the warmth of her lips, instantly forgetting the pain in your heart. She pulls away and you open your eyes, finding yourself in a world of color and beauty.

"Do you wanna go shopping today?" You ask, your thumb rubbing against her waist. She smiles and nods, her eyes twinkling. "Sure," she mutters, staring at you before placing a kiss on your lips.

You just wanted to allow yourself to enjoy this and you knew she wanted to do the same.

taglist - @alexkolax @raven-ss @godsfavouritelesbiann @jennasslut @niqmandu @amburntfreeman @returnnofdamac @starry-night17 @get-the-fuck-outta-here @morganismspam23

[luvsymai]

FAKE BOYFRIEND ; Shoto Todoroki

Chapter 6. PERVERT RADAR IS ON!

Genre: Romance, fluff

Warnings: Uncomfortable situation on the train.

<- Series

<- Previous chapter // Next part ->

___________________________________

You looked at yourself in the mirror, perfectly content and satisfied with how you looked.

You’re wearing a white frilly dress, it has off-shoulder silky, wide straps and the top is kind of like a corset. The dress has tiny pink rose patterns on it, basically a floral print, and you paired your outfit with a small little pearl choker.

Your hair was half up, half down. There was a cute baby pink bow in your hair. You touched up your make up a bit, it wasn’t much. You were going for a no make up-make up look.

Once you were done, you looked at the mirror one last time before putting the foods inside the basket, and two tumblers which were red and white. You didn’t mean to match the color of your tumblers to Todoroki’s hair, but it was all you had left.

You quickly brought out your phone, and sent a text to Todoroki, telling him that he can come to your dorm now. He immediately texted back a few seconds later, which he replied with a simple ‘Okay.’

You set the basket down on the floor, before you put your shoes on. They were cute, black Mary Jane shoes. After you wore your shoes, you heard a knock on your door.

You quickly stood up and fixed your hair, before getting ahold of the basket and opened the door. There stood Todoroki, who was in casual clothes; he was wearing a white collared shirt, paired with a dark blue sweater and baggy beige pants. He was carrying a checkered picnic blanket with a handle on one hand, and on his shoulder was a black sling bag.

“Good morning, (Last name)…” He greeted.

Hey lol.

Was what you internally thought as you analysed Todoroki and his outfit.

You were shamelessly checking him out, which made him cough. You forgot that he was actually in front of you.

Your eyes quickly traveled back to his own gaze, and his expression was unreadable again.

“Uh, do I look bad…?” He had asked.

“N-No! You look better dressed than me, if I’m being honest.” You shook his question off. He really does look attractive.

“Oh? But you look attractive to me, though…” He looked confused at what you said, and was straight up honest with his compliment, which made your cheeks heat up.

“Thank you… um, let’s go now?” You changed the topic, before you noticed that he also brought a picnic basket in his other hand. “Wait, you also prepared food?”

“Well, yeah… I didn’t want to go empty-handed.” He explained.

“Oh, but you didn’t have to!”

“I wanted to, so…”

“Alright, then shall we go now?” You asked, making him nod.

You made sure to lock the door of your room first, before leaving with him. On your way outside, you had met with Mina, Kirishima, and Bakugo. It was common to see the three of them together.

“Oh wow, where are the lovebirds going, huh? On a date, perhaps?” Mina went to the two of you, to which Kirishima followed, and bakugo trailed behind him with a usual scowl on his face.

“Mhm! We are.” You replied, enthusiastically.

“Oh, Todoroki, what’s up bro,” Kirishima continued. “Did you know that…”

“What?” Todoroki responded, curiously.

“That i ain’t ever seen two pretty best friends,” He grinned, doing gestures with his hands. Mina and I burst out of laughter while Todoroki was confused, and Bakugo only cringed.

“That meme’s already dead, dude,” I commented.

“Dead as hell.” Mina added.

“I’m going back to the dorms. Bye.” Bakugo walked past us as he couldn’t contain it anymore.

“Well, we’ll go now, too! We wouldn’t want to mess up your date, bye!” Mina grabbed Kirishima forcefully, and left.

Silence enveloped the two of you, with only the vague sounds of footsteps of the three of them leaving that faded after awhile.

“…What did Kirishima mean by two pretty best friends?” Todoroki questioned, breaking the silence between the two of you.

“Oh, well… It’s an inside joke.” You started to explain as you two started walking. He listened attentively to your explanation even though it was just complete nonsense.

“Alright. Is it okay if we take the train on the way?” Todoroki asked once you finished yapping explaining.

“Yeah, it’s fine!” You assured him.

Once the two of you got inside the train, there were only a few people as it was the weekend, so you two were able to find some available seats. You fixed your dress as you sat, while he took the seat beside yours. You placed the basket on your lap, while he placed his next to him. The doors of the train closed, and started to take off after a few minutes.

“How long until we get there?” He asked.

“About…” You brought out your phone, and checked the location of the park. “20 minutes or so, i guess?”

“Okay.” He relaxed on his seat, making himself comfortable as he spread his legs a bit wider.

You envied Todoroki, since he could spread his legs freely, while you couldn’t as you were wearing a dress.

After awhile, a random stranger went in front of you and stood by, holding on to the train handle. You didn’t pay attention to him, but when he brought out his phone, you felt uncomfortable.

You felt like he was taking a picture of your thighs, so you pulled down your dress, but it didn’t do much since your thighs were still showing even though your basket also partly covered your thighs.

Todoroki glanced at you and the random man in front of you. He noticed your discomfort and suddenly removed his sweater, which made you snap out of your daze.

“Here.” He handed his sweater to you.

“Thank you…” You accepted his sweater gratefully, and covered your lap with it after putting your basket next to his. Once you were done, he stood up and went in front of you with his back facing you, you saw him whispering something next to the guy’s ear as he put his hands in his pocket.

“O-Okay! I will, I’m sorry!” The man nodded profusely, and left to go somewhere else.

Once he made sure that the stranger went far away from you, he sat next to you again, casually, like nothing happened.

“What did you say to that poor man?” You asked out of curiosity.

“Well, I just threatened him. That’s all.” He said, like it was nothing.

“O-Oh?” You didn’t bother asking him any more questions, scared to know what he said.

<- Series

<- Previous part // Next part ->

Taglist: @eempxth @1ovesiick @meikoo @serxndipity-ipity-blog @visual-freak @h3artz4soph @flvr4ane @whoisgami @poemzcheng

[rs-hawk]

I submitted the idea for day two and I just wanted to say I loved it so much! I’m a huge fan of your work and really appreciate you indulging us with your talent ♥️

If you’re still taking B&B ideas, I love the idea of the Beast using the magic mirror and it always showing Belle. And he, frustrated by what he sees, shaking the mirror like a magic eight ball, but it allows for him to learn about her and fall for her.

But also… Beast having a hard time taking off Belle’s ball gown with his big claws, so she gives him a strip tease and leaves him high and dry as payback for ruining her other dresses.

Use whatever you like, or none at all 😊

Okay crying?? Thank you so much. I love getting to write and the fact that I get so much love is sometimes overwhelming. While I'm not making enough off my writing to live off of, the fact that I'm making anything is amazing to me. I appreciate it more than I can say that you enjoyed it enough to request another post. It's like that old meme "They like me. They really like me!". Lol. Anyway, Day Five 😭 ❤️

CW: this post contains graphic depictions and smut. This is intended for an 18+ audience. Knotting, excessive cum, talks of pregnancy, light pain and blood, etc

After the previous day’s encounter, Belle was too embarrassed to see Beast. She just wanted a small break. Her feelings about him were still so mixed up, and she was so sore that with every step she could still feel how he stretched her. It made her cheeks flush red every time she thought of it.

“Belle, the Master requests you for dinner,” Cogsworth announced outside of her door.

“I’m not hungry. I don’t feel very well,” she called out, curling up on her bed.

The clock did his best to encourage her to come out, but ultimately, he gave up. Just as her wardrobe did. Her pussy ached to feel the Beast again, but she knew that she could never go and ask him for that. Her head was still spinning from the day prior, especially the surprisingly tender kiss they shared. Absent mindedly, her fingers grazed her lips, still swollen and puffy from their shared kisses.

When Beast found out Belle wasn’t coming, his heart sank. Had he hurt her? Or did she not enjoy herself as much as he had thought? Growling to himself, he stalked back up to the West Wing. His claws curled around the mirror he held.

“Show me my girl. Show me Belle,” he asked of it.

The mirror obliged after a moment, showing Belle in her bed. Her fingers were on her lips, a small smile tugging at the corners. The sight made his heart skip a beat. Was she thinking about him? She laid in the bed, one hand slipping under her blanket. Was she touching herself? If she was, was she thinking about last night?

In annoyance, he shook the mirror. “Give me a better view!” he demanded of it, shaking it as if that would chance the angle he was shown.

Of course it didn’t, so in frustration, he tossed the mirror aside. Yet, after a moment, he picked it back up. He spent the rest of the night watching her, and from then on, every moment she wasn't with her, he was watching her. He saw the things that made her laugh so loud she snorted, and that made her just give a small half smile. He was obsessed with that mirror because he thought that that was the only way that he would ever be close to her again.

Eventually she was able to be around him again without feeling like she was reliving the feeling of his brutal pace once again. When Mrs. Potts set up a date for the two of them, she shyly agreed. The wardrobe helped her get dressed, but she knew the basics of how to take it off. It would just need to be slightly loosened. Just enough for her to be able to pull the cords from. The underclothes were easy enough to take off.

After the dance, she was happy to be close to him again, as he was with her. The mirror lay forgotten in his room. He only had eyes for the gorgeous woman standing in front of him, her gloved hands caressing his arms, his fur.

"Do you want to come back to my room?" Belle asked in a soft voice, knowing that the wardrobe would scamper off at the sight of the Beast, leaving the two of them alone.

A low groan left his throat as he nodded, "Yes."

The two of them practically sprinted to her room, him scooping her up in his arms when they got close. Just as Belle predicted, the wardrobe ran off out of her room as Beast came in. With a gentleness that made Belle's heart soften even more, he set her on the bed. His claws immediately were on her gown, trying to undo the intricate lacework of the corset top.

After a few moments, he huffed in frustration. "Why do these things have to be so difficult?"

He raised up a paw, clearly to just rip the dress off of her, but she jumped up. "No! It's gorgeous. I can take it off myself."

Beast relented, feeling bad for upsetting Belle again. He hadn't thought of how she would feel getting a gown that was so high quality, and then him immediately wanting to destroy it. "Alright."

Belle smiled. As she slipped off her gloves, tossing them onto the bed besides Beast, she thought about how the last time they were alone together, he had ripped her dress. Her favorite dress. Maybe she could show Beast how it would feel to no longer have something you enjoyed.

A mischievous idea formed in her head as she slowly began to undo the dress in the back. Maybe she could get back at him, teasing him just a bit. Sure tomorrow she might feel a little guilty and give herself to him, but for tonight, she wanted to be at least somewhat in control.

Beast's hungry eyes followed every movement of her body. The way she slightly jutted out one hip as she was unlacing the corset. The way her hands ran down her waist after she dropped the gown to the floor. When she had gotten the hoop and underskirt off, leaving her in little more than a glorified ruffled one piece, she made her way over to him.

His mouth was watering as she closer to him, dropping the remainder of her clothes to the floor. The air between them was almost thick enough to taste. However, when he reached for her, she stepped back.

"What are you doing?" he asked in an almost hoarse voice.

Almost coyly, she smiled, leaning over to grab a simple nightgown that she had set out before she left. Slipping it on, she smoothed it out, hiding what the Beast considered the glorious sight of her body. "I'm getting ready for bed. I did enjoy seeing you like this tonight though. Maybe we should have breakfast together."

Stunned, frustrated, and a little confused, he started to protest as Belle led him out of a room, but she shut the door in his face, silencing any further protests. At least he had the mirror to watch her as he touched himself. Maybe she would touch herself for him too. At least then he would get something out of tonight.

Like this story? Support me on Ko-fi ☕ ❤️

[midnight1nk]

⭐️A few days ago...⭐️

Wow, what a wholesome episode! "The rosemary to my bread", dude, I hope my future partner will say that to me one day. Now that I had my weekly dose of silly, time to check the Puzzlevision website! Eh, I bet it's going to be the same as...

[*SCREAMING*]

WOTFI 2024 PREDICTIONS REVISITED

⚠️ DISCLAIMER IN INTRO POST ⚠️

An eye for an eye...

How are we feeling, SMG4 fandom? It's that time of year and many have speculated about WOTFI as well as what might come afterwards. Myself included with my previous theory posts, suspecting that something big is guaranteed to happen. And we didn't have to wait long.

On the 14th of September, just a few days ago, the channel's latest episode, 'SMG4 and SMG3 come up with an episode' was released. But what truly made the fandom lose their mind was the sudden change of the Puzzlevision website. If you need a refresher, here is what it looked like before:

It had:

[puzzlevision.tv] being the site title and URL

Mr Puzzles' logo

A central image that transitioned between a webp to a gif file and vice versa on certain occasions

(after choosing Save As option) the image already labeled as Now Airing

Now, there was talk about this that wasn't left originally, stating that the image (that used to be larger) now had a black border around it. At least, at the time. As someone who has worked with web design, there's actually a number of reasons why this is.

Depending on the resolution/zoom setting on your device, it might alter the site's layout.

As said earlier, the image alternated between a gif to a webp. All websites require a background color underneath all of its assets so the change in image/file size may have shrunk than what was originally. Especially if you are attempting to make it look seamless between the transitions.

Long story short, It's simply how web layouts are: formatting gets a bit wonky from time to time.

Anyway, as I already mentioned, the website has changed to this,

(supposedly someone said the password was "carnival")

Then, to this:

Changes include:

The title "War of the Fat Italians 2024" with a similar URL [www.wotfi2024.com]

SMG4 logo

A whole new layout design (obviously) which just gives off 'Greatest Showman' energy

And now we've come to the present day: fans have already submitted their minigame challenges and preparing for a carnival-themed adventure. For me and other theorists, though, we're having a field day. From the clues I gathered on the website and a few past episodes, I might be able to put together what the channel has for us this year. Let's revisit my "WOTFI 2024 Predictions"!

I already covered a lot in depth in my "Puzzlevision 2: Now Airing" theory [link] and I'll be referring back to it here, so I recommend looking it over if you haven't already.

THE WEBSITE

I was honestly surprised that I was right about a couple of things. The main one being about the website itself.

The people behind SMG4 didn’t need to put this image in, they didn’t need to keep this website on. But they did.

Well, past Ink, you nailed it. And according to Cube (FM), this is the same website host.

"don't read into it too much"

Cube, with everything going on, I might as well interrogate a website for memes' sake.

Wait, what's wrong with it?

The fact that the website is used for WOTFI of all things is what's so strange. All the previous WOTFI'S asked the fans to submit their challenges through the comment section or social media. No other option was involved until now.

Maybe they wanted to try something different like what they did for WOTFI 2023?

That's a good point. It was stated that they wanted to be more experimental with their episodes. But even then, the '23 stream they hosted was on their channel, on Youtube.

Maybe they didn't want it to go to waste? After all, sites can be expensive.

Again, it's a good point. Depending on the domain they used and the apps connected to the site, it can be costly. However, I do want to iterate what I said earlier: they didn't need to keep this website up. Better yet, if they didn't want to raise any flags, why not keep the site how it originally was with the "That's all folks!" image? Why the change? Which brings us to our next point,

WHO IS THE REAL SMG4?

Let me explain...

After the change of the website, we got this post,

This brings up a lot of questions:

Who sent the letter?

If we can assume that's Four's hand, why did the post say "you" as if there is a narrator?

If Four had no idea about a carnival coming to town, then why would he ask us to submit challenges for a carnival he's supposedly hosting?

Well, they're pretty easy to answer. We already established that Marty would come back to be the most likely antagonist for WOTFI. I mean, this cardboard cutout managed to own a pizza shop, a casino, an airline company, and a spaghetti sauce brand. It wouldn't be a surprise if he also happened to own a carnival. But as I said in previous theories, Marty isn't working alone.

He's working with Mr Puzzles.

Mr Puzzles was the one who sent the letter to SMG4 just as he did for Wren in Western Spaghetti (indirect or not). It hasn't exactly shown if the letter had his seal on it. Not that it needs to anyway, they would recognize his logo and know they can't trust what's inside this envelope.

Remember how I said in my previous theory that one of the ways Mr Puzzles could control SMG4 was for our blue meme lord to be his eyes and ears? In the latest episode, SMG3 comes up with the idea of a carnival coming to the showgrounds for a week, and SMG4 wanting to go on the baby teacup ride.

Mr Puzzles was there, listening to every word they said to each other. He has been since "SMG4: Inside Out".

Could it just be purely by coincidence and just something out of improv? Sure, the SMG4 & SMG3 side episodes aren't really connected to canon. But like, c'mon, the channel knew what they were doing. Everything has to be put into consideration.

If that's true, the narrator could be Mr Puzzles, the second voice inside his head. Or, for those who love the goop!4 theory, the voice could be the demonic goo slowly taking over.

Now, back to the post!Four and site!Four. If we can assume the Four from the post is our Four, then the one impersonating Four would be Mr Puzzles, once again controlling the events in WOTFI. This time, using his website. Like Cube said, Mr Puzzles is the same website host as before. Also, look at these two:

It would be too obvious if we see a PNG of Mr Puzzles on the website again so why not impersonate his narrative foil. Well, at least look dapper while you're at it.

Or, even better, Four does know about the carnival but either the goo or Mr Puzzles are erasing certain memories.

A GAME OF WITS

Speaking of the website, let's analyze the description:

Step right up, WOTFI is coming to town and we need your challenges but this time...WITH A TWIST! We're doing a carnival theme this year and we want challenges named like a minigame and a description of what they are! For example "Whack a Bob - Who can smash bob with a hammer first?" OR "Pizza Pie Peril- Survive giant pizza's raining form the sky' Guidelines - Please only 1 challenge per person - Nothing inappropriate - Please add your internet profile name in the 'name' field below Thank you and see you soon!!! -SMG4

Carnival theme, huh?

Well, last year's theme made sense. Three's notebook was stolen and was risked of getting leaked. With the casino being heavily guarded, Four and Three had to sneak in. A secret mission to take back a secretive object.

If this WOTFI has Marty and Mr Puzzles working together, then It would make sense for a businessman and an entertainer would come up with something like a carnival. The best of two worlds: fun and capitalism. Besides, the Showgrounds would be a perfect place to host it since it used to be an abandoned carnival and Mr Puzzles having something to do with the land ownership.

[SMG4: Our New Home // timestamp: 5:38]

Now, what is peculiar is the use of the term "minigame".

Ink, it's a carnival. You have to stick to the theme of carnival rides and games.

Fair, but this is WOTFI we're talking about here. If you win a challenge, you get closer to the end and win a point for your side. For WOTFI '23, every choice impacted the story and therefore the ending. If the SMG4 crew plays and wins these minigames, what do they get in return? And if they lose, would there be a punishment?

It will entirely depend on how WOTFI would play out, in three scenarios:

Marty is revealed to be behind the carnival at the beginning of WOTFI and the Crew learns that, in order to reach him, they have to win some mini-games.

Marty isn't revealed until the near end. The Crew only came because they wanted to have some fun for the day but learned that this was a sort of trap created by Marty (along with Mr Puzzles but they don't know that yet).

OR BONUS SECRET OPTION

Both Marty and Mr Puzzles revealed themselves to be the ones hosting the carnival, meaning it's less likely that Puzzlevision 2 would happen unless something else happens.

Then, there is the phrase "WITH A TWIST". Sure, it could mean that it would be different than our regular old WOTFI, just as it happened in 2023. But WOTFI 2023 also revealed the twist that Mr Puzzles was actually the one orchestrating the whole thing, sending the fax to Marty about the secret recipe and his theme scattered in the background in multiple episodes. We might get a twist by the end of this year's WOTFI as well. Bonus points if we hear a version of his theme again.

Back in my Puzzlevision 2 theory, I predicted that the final battle with Mr Puzzles would happen back where it all started. With the carnival coming into the Showgrounds, it comes back full circle.

ONE STEP CLOSER

There isn't much to change from what I predicted:

Karen would be a key character for WOTFI this year. Maybe Karen just wanted her kids to have fun for the day, or even the corporation, her former workplace, gave her a tip that Marty would be there.

The Crew would have to find Marty's absolute weakness since he's technically invincible.

And possibly Pedro coming back to assist the Crew somehow.

But now I have a new prediction, based on the latest episode:

SMG4's and SMG3's relationship would change to a whole new level. That Four may need Three for something or if Three realizes something about himself, it would change their dynamic regardless.

It's really similar to how it was for WOTFI 2023 with small bits here and there all coming back to a single episode. (The notebook, the duo's meme guardian powers, Four's forklift, Three moving out of the Internet Graveyard, etc.)

It's still too early to confirm anything, but at the very least, we now have some idea what WOTFI may be about as well as evidence to back up some of my theories.

Will we get goop!4? God, I wish. I was listening to "Friends on the Other Side" and I was just imagining scenarios of Mr Puzzles taking complete control of Four with the goo. If it doesn't happen for whatever reason, I'll write it myself.

Oh well, we would just have to wait and see. In the meantime, that’s just a theory…

AN SMG4 THEORY

🎶Thanks for dropping by🎶

[natasaa13]

"You're trouble" ft. Choso Kamo

Part 3

Previous ~ Next

"You’re trouble, you know that?” Choso murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of amusement and affection.

Musa laughed softly, her hands still resting on his chest. “You’re not exactly innocent yourself.”

“Fair enough,” he said, his smirk widening.

Weeks had passed since that chance encounter in the library, and Musa’s days had taken on a new rhythm. Every morning, she’d wake up to a text from Choso.

Cho🦝: Good morning, princess. Don’t forget you’ve got that group project today.

It made her smile every time. Their conversations flowed effortlessly, spanning everything from their professors’ quirks to Satoru’s latest chaos.

Musa🐰: He really tried to convince the professor that his essay vanished into the ether?

Cho🦝: It’s Satoru. I think he almost had them convinced until Suguru called him out.

By night, their texts became even more intimate.

Cho🦝: Goodnight, Musa. Sweet dreams.

Musa: Goodnight, Cho. You too.

It was these little exchanges that had Musa falling, slowly but surely. She couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment her feelings shifted, but now, whenever she saw his name on her screen or heard his deep, calming voice, her heart raced.

--------------------------------------------

One afternoon, Musa was walking through the bustling college halls with Shoko. The brunette was grinning ear to ear, her excitement palpable.

“Suguru and I went bowling last week” Shoko began, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Let me tell you, your brother is—”

“Stop.” Musa held up a hand, her face scrunched in mock disgust. “I don’t want to hear how ‘hot’ my brother is.”

“But he is,” Shoko teased, nudging her playfully. “Honestly, you’re lucky you’re related, or—”

“Shoko!” Musa groaned, covering her ears.

Laughing, Shoko relented, changing the subject. “Fine, fine. Speaking of handsome guys, how are things with Choso?”

Musa felt her cheeks heat up. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on,” Shoko said, giving her a knowing look. “You two have been talking non-stop. Are you finally going to admit you like him?”

Musa hesitated, biting her lip. “Okay… maybe I do. But what if he doesn’t feel the same? I mean, he’s so calm and collected, and I’m just… me.”

Shoko waved off her concern. “Musa, you’re amazing. If he doesn’t see that, he’s blind. But you won’t know unless you try.”

Musa sighed, her shoulders slumping. “And what about Suguru? He’s going to freak out if he finds out I like one of his friends.”

“That’s true,” Shoko admitted with a shrug. “But it’s not like he can stop you. Besides, this is about you and Choso, not him.”

Musa nodded, though her doubts lingered.

“I’ve got an idea,” Shoko said suddenly, her eyes lighting up. “Suguru and I are going out to dinner tomorrow night. Why don’t you invite Choso over while we’re out? See how it goes.”

“Are you sure?” Musa asked, unsure but intrigued.

“Absolutely,” Shoko replied, grinning. “Just text me when we’re on the way back so you can, you know, hide him before your brother loses his mind.”

Musa couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

But as they continued down the hallway, she already knew she was going to do it. The thought of having Choso over made her heart flutter, and for the first time, she felt like she was taking a step toward something real.

--------------------------------------------

The day started off like any other for Musa. Her phone buzzed as she walked across campus, and she couldn’t help but smile when she saw the notification.

Cho🦝: Found this one today, thought you’d like it.

It was another meme of a cat doing something ridiculously silly, this time trying to fit itself into a tiny vase. Musa giggled, her thumbs flying over the keyboard.

Musa🐰: Where do you even find these?

Cho🦝: Secret cat meme stash. I could share, but then I’d have to silence you.

Musa🐰: A little extreme for memes, don’t you think?

Cho🦝: Maybe. But you’re smiling, right?

She paused, realizing she was grinning from ear to ear. Before she could respond, someone grabbed her by the shoulders, making her jump.

“Boo!” Satoru’s familiar voice rang out behind her.

“Ugh, Satoru! What is wrong with you?” Musa clutched her chest, glaring at him.

“What’s wrong with you? Walking around with that goofy smile,” Satoru teased, peering over her shoulder. “What’s got you so distracted?”

“Nothing!” Musa said quickly, slipping her phone into her pocket.

Satoru wasn’t convinced. With his usual chaotic energy, he reached out and snatched the phone before she could react.

“Satoru, no! Give it back!” she pleaded, jumping to grab it.

But he was too tall, holding the phone high above her head as he unlocked it. His eyes immediately landed on the contact name: ‘Cho🦝’.

He froze, staring at the screen. Then, slowly, he turned to her, his eyes wide with mock disbelief. “Cho?”

“Give it back, Satoru,” Musa hissed, her face turning crimson.

“Oh. My. God,” Satoru said, his grin spreading like wildfire. “I knew it!”

“Knew what?!” Musa exclaimed, still trying to grab her phone.

“You and Choso!” Satoru shouted dramatically, spinning around in a circle. “I knew something was up!”

“Satoru, keep your voice down!” Musa pleaded, looking around to make sure no one was listening.

But Satoru wasn’t done. He shoved the phone back into her hands and crossed his arms, suddenly adopting a much more serious expression. “Alright, Musa. Spill. How did this happen? When did it start? And, most importantly, where is this going?”

Musa groaned, covering her face with her hands. “You’re not my brother, Satoru. I don’t owe you answers.”

“Yeah, but I’m like your brother, which means I get to do the overprotective thing now.” He leaned in closer, squinting. “Does Suguru know?”

“No!” Musa snapped. “And he’s not going to find out—especially not from you.”

Satoru raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. But seriously, Musa. How did this happen? You two barely talked before.”

Musa sighed, deciding there was no way to avoid the conversation. “It just… happened, okay? We started texting after a library study session, and now we talk every day. It’s nothing serious.”

Satoru tilted his head, a rare softness in his tone. “Do you like him?”

Musa hesitated, but eventually, she nodded. “Yeah, I think so”

Satoru’s teasing demeanor hardened for a moment, an unusually serious look crossing his face. “Listen, Musa. Choso’s my friend, but you should know… he’s not exactly the ‘settle down’ type. He’s been known to hop from girl to girl when he gets bored.”

Musa’s chest tightened at his words, but she managed to keep her voice steady. “You really think he’d do that to me?”

Satoru sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen him with someone like you, but that doesn’t mean he’s changed. Just… be careful, okay? You’re my favorite little troublemaker, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Musa nodded, a lump forming in her throat. “Thanks, Satoru. I’ll be careful.”

Satoru smiled, ruffling her hair. “Alright, secret’s safe with me—for now. But if Choso hurts you, I’m feeding him to the cats he loves so much.”

Musa couldn’t help but laugh, grateful for Satoru’s chaotic but supportive energy.

--------------------------------------------

The first class of the day was dragging. Musa tapped her pen against her notebook, her attention drifting far from the professor's monotone lecture. Her phone buzzed faintly in her bag, and she instinctively reached for it.

Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard as she debated whether to text Choso. Finally, she mustered up the courage.

Musa🐰: Hey, do you wanna hang out tonight? Suguru and Shoko are going out, so the house’ll be quiet.

The message sent, and Musa stared at her phone, nerves building. A few minutes later, her phone vibrated with Choso’s reply.

Cho🦝: Sure. What time?

Musa grinned, her stomach flipping in excitement.

Musa🐰: Come over around 7?

Cho🦝: I’ll be there.

The simplicity of his response only made her smile grow. She tucked her phone away and tried to focus on the lecture, but the rest of the class was a blur. All she could think about was seeing Choso later.

When the class ended, she quickly sent another text to Shoko.

Musa🐰: The plan’s on. Let me know when you and Suguru are heading back.

Shoko’s reply came almost instantly: You got it. Good luck, girl 😉.

Musa couldn’t stop smiling as she walked to her next class, her heart racing with anticipation for the night ahead.

--------------------------------------------

At home, Musa was pacing around the living room, anxiously glancing at the clock. She had just finished tidying up, ensuring the space looked effortlessly casual, when Suguru walked in, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. He paused mid-step, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied her.

"You've been acting weird lately," he said, folding his arms. "Is everything okay?"

Musa froze, her heart skipping a beat. "What? I'm fine! Why would you think something's wrong?"

Suguru raised an eyebrow. "I don’t know, maybe because you keep pacing like you're waiting for something—or someone."

"I'm not waiting for anyone," she blurted, a little too quickly.

He frowned, stepping closer. "Are you sure? I mean, if something’s bothering you, you can talk to me." His tone softened. "Is it because I’ve been spending so much time with Shoko? I know I’ve been busy, but I never want you to feel left out."

Musa's guilt flared, but she quickly shook her head. "No! It’s not that, I promise. I’m happy for you and Shoko."

Suguru searched her face, unconvinced. "Then what is it? Because if you're not feeling well, I can stay home. Dinner can wait."

"No, absolutely not," Musa said, her voice firm. "I’m fine. You’ve been looking forward to this, and so has Shoko. Go. I'll be okay."

Suguru hesitated, his brows knitting together. "You’re sure? You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?"

"Yes, I promise," she insisted, ushering him toward the door. "If anything happens, I’ll text you, but I doubt I’ll need to."

Suguru gave her one last skeptical look before sighing. "Alright, but don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything."

"I won’t," Musa said, practically shoving him out the door.

"Okay, okay!" he laughed, holding up his hands in surrender as he stepped outside. "Take care, Musa."

"You too," she called, quickly closing the door behind him.

As soon as he was gone, Musa let out a long breath of relief, leaning against the door. Now all she had to do was wait for Choso

As she paced the living room, glancing at the clock every few seconds. The anticipation of Choso’s arrival was enough to send her nerves into overdrive and the fact that Suguru wasn’t home made it all the more thrilling.

A knock on the door snapped her out of her thoughts. She quickly smoothed her hair, her heart racing as she opened the door to find Choso standing there, his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie.

“Hey,” he greeted, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Hi,” Musa replied, her voice quieter than intended. She stepped aside to let him in, the faint scent of his cologne brushing past her as he entered.

Choso glanced around the room, his gaze lingering on the framed photos of Suguru and Musa on the wall. “It’s a bit weird being here without Suguru,” he admitted, turning back to her. “But I don’t mind.”

Musa’s cheeks warmed at his casual tone. “Yeah, he’d probably flip out if he knew,” she said with a nervous laugh, closing the door behind him.

“Probably,” Choso agreed, a small smirk playing at his lips. He sat down on the couch, his posture relaxed. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Uh, I thought we could watch a movie?” Musa suggested, grabbing the remote.

“Works for me,” Choso said, leaning back into the cushions as Musa joined him.

She scrolled through the options, eventually settling on an action-comedy. As the movie started, she found herself acutely aware of his presence beside her. Their shoulders brushed slightly, and every time he laughed or shifted, her heart seemed to skip a beat.

“You okay?” Choso’s voice broke through her thoughts. Musa froze, realizing she had been fidgeting with the edge of her sweater.

“Y-yeah,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Choso leaned closer, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. “You sure?” he asked, his hand reaching out to gently press against her forehead. “You feel a little warm.”

The closeness made her breath hitch. “I-I’m fine!” she blurted, her cheeks burning.

Choso raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin spreading across his face as he leaned back slightly. “You’re acting kind of weird, Musa.”

“I’m not!” she protested, though the crack in her voice said otherwise.

He chuckled softly, tilting his head to study her. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing!” Musa said quickly, her hands clenching the hem of her sweater.

Choso’s grin widened. “Is it me?” he asked, his tone playful.

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head furiously. “No! Why would it be you?”

He leaned in again, his gaze holding hers. “Because you’re blushing,” he said, his voice dropping just enough to make her heart race.

“I’m not blushing!” she insisted, her voice rising in pitch.

“You are,” he said with a soft laugh, his fingers brushing lightly against her cheek. “And it’s kind of cute.”

Musa’s breath caught in her throat, her words failing her completely.

Choso’s teasing smile softened, his tone shifting to something more genuine. “You know, Musa,” he began, leaning back slightly but keeping his eyes on her. “I think you’re really cute. And… I’ve been starting to like you. And ai don't mean as a friend”

Musa’s heart pounded so loudly she was sure he could hear it. “You—what?” she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled again, though this time it was almost shy. “You heard me.”

She stared at him, her mind spinning as she tried to process his words.

“Well?” Choso prompted, his teasing grin returning. “What do you think?”

Musa’s breath hitched, and she stared at Choso, wide-eyed. “You… like me?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

Choso nodded, his expression soft but unwavering. “Yeah. I wasn’t sure at first, but being around you... I can’t ignore how I feel anymore.”

Musa’s cheeks burned, and she felt her heart race even faster, as if it was about to leap out of her chest. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, she looked down at her hands, fidgeting nervously with the hem of her sweater.

Choso chuckled lightly, leaning forward. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said gently. “You don’t have to say anything right now. I just… wanted you to know.”

“No!” Musa blurted, her head snapping up. “I mean… I don’t want you to think I don’t… like you, too.”

Choso’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You do?”

“I-I think so,” Musa admitted, her voice shaking slightly. She avoided his gaze, her fingers still twisting the fabric of her sweater. “You make me nervous. But not in a bad way. It’s just… you’re so close, and my heart won’t stop beating so fast, and—”

“Musa,” Choso interrupted softly, his voice laced with amusement.

She stopped rambling and finally looked at him. His smile was gentle, and the warmth in his eyes made her chest tighten.

“Take a deep breath,” he said, his tone playful but kind.

She did as he suggested, inhaling deeply to steady herself.

“Better?” he asked.

“A little,” she admitted, her lips curving into a small, shy smile.

Choso chuckled again, leaning back against the couch. “Good. Because I like making your heart race, but I don’t want to give you a heart attack.”

Musa let out a nervous laugh, her face heating up again. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” he said with a grin, “but I’m glad I know how you feel now.”

"We have to keep it a secret though, if Sugu finds out we're both dead"

“Eh, I’m pretty sure I can take him,” Choso said with a playful smirk.

Musa rolled her eyes, but the laughter still lingered in the air, light and easy. She shook her head, leaning back against the couch. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I might be,” Choso said, his grin softening as he looked at her. “But I meant what I said earlier, you know.”

Musa turned to him, her heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his voice. “About liking me?”

“Yeah,” he replied, his tone quieter now. “About you being cute. About liking you. All of it.”

She felt the heat rise to her cheeks again, and her hands instinctively continued fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. “You’re making it really hard to keep a straight face,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Choso chuckled softly, leaning a little closer. “Good. I like seeing you flustered.”

“Choso,” she said, her voice faltering as she met his gaze.

“What?” he asked, his tone gentle but teasing. “Is it wrong that I want to kiss you right now?”

Musa’s breath caught, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t answer right away, but the way her eyes flickered to his lips gave him all the encouragement he needed.

Slowly, carefully, Choso leaned in, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of her hair away from her face. His fingers lingered against her cheek, warm and steady, as he closed the distance between them.

Their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss, and the world seemed to fade away. It was gentle, like testing the waters of something fragile and new, yet it carried an undeniable spark that sent a rush through her veins.

When they pulled apart, Choso stayed close, his forehead nearly touching hers. “You okay?” he asked softly, his voice laced with both care and a touch of amusement.

Musa nodded, her cheeks warm and her heart fluttering. “Yeah,” she whispered.

“Good,” he said with a small grin. “Because I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

She let out a soft laugh, her nervousness melting into something lighter.

As the movie played on, neither of them paid it any mind. The kiss hung between them, a quiet promise of the secret they would now carry together

--------------------------------------------

A few weeks passed by, Musa leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, as she stared at her brother. Suguru was scrolling through his phone, barely acknowledging her.

“Hey, Suguru,” Musa said, her tone sweet but laced with mischief.

“What?” he asked distractedly.

“You’ve been hogging Shoko a lot lately,” she said, arching an eyebrow. “I think it’s about time I get my best friend back for a night.”

Suguru finally looked up, his brow furrowing. “What are you talking about? You see her all the time.”

“Not really,” Musa argued. “It’s been forever since we had a proper girls’ night. I mean, you’re practically glued to her these days.”

Suguru smirked, clearly unbothered by her accusation. “She’s my girlfriend. What do you expect?”

“And she’s my best friend,” Musa countered, jabbing a finger at him. “Don’t be selfish. You can survive one night without her.”

Suguru sighed, rolling his eyes. “Fine. Take her. But don’t get her into too much trouble.”

“Please,” Musa said with a grin, already grabbing her phone to text Shoko. “We’re way too classy for trouble.”

--------------------------------------------

The bar was alive with music and chatter, the atmosphere electric. Musa and Shoko sat at a small table with drinks in hand, their laughter blending into the hum of the crowd.

“It’s been too long,” Shoko said, raising her glass to Musa. “I missed this.”

“Me too,” Musa said, clinking her glass against Shoko’s. “No boys, no drama. Just us.”

They played a few rounds of pool, Musa managing to win only because Shoko was a little tipsy and laughing too hard to concentrate. Between turns, they shared stories, teased each other, and caught up like old times.

Once they settled back at their table, Shoko leaned her chin on her hand, giving Musa a pointed look. “So,” she said, dragging the word out, “how are things with Choso?”

Musa blushed, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “Good. Really good. He’s… sweet. When he’s not being a flirt, that is.”

Shoko smirked. “Sweet, huh? Didn’t think I’d hear that word about Choso.”

“He is,” Musa insisted, a small smile tugging at her lips. “He’s different with me. It’s… nice.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow, sipping her drink. “Different enough to make you forget that your brother would lose his mind if he found out?”

Musa groaned, leaning back in her chair. “Don’t remind me. I already feel like I’m walking on eggshells.”

“That’s kind of my point,” Shoko said, her tone more serious now. “How long are you planning to keep this a secret, Musa? You know you can’t hide it forever.”

“I don’t know,” Musa admitted, her voice soft. “I just… I’m not ready to tell him yet. Suguru’s so protective, and Choso… well, you know how Suguru sees him.”

“As a walking red flag,” Shoko said bluntly, though her eyes softened. “But you don’t, do you?”

“No,” Musa said firmly. “He’s not like that. Not with me. I just… I need more time to figure out how to tell Suguru without him losing it.”

Shoko leaned back, her gaze thoughtful. “You’re going to have to tell him eventually, you know. He’s going to find out one way or another, and it’s better if it comes from you.”

Musa nodded, her fingers twisting together. “I know. I just—what if he doesn’t understand? What if he never forgives me or Choso?”

Shoko reached across the table, placing a comforting hand over Musa’s. “He’s your brother, Musa. And he loves you. He might not like it, but he’ll get over it. Eventually.”

Musa let out a shaky breath, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “Thanks, Shoko. For everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Please,” Shoko said with a smirk, finishing her drink. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What?” Musa asked.

“Invite me to the family dinner when you drop the bombshell,” Shoko said, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “I want front-row seats for the chaos.”

Musa burst out laughing, shaking her head. “You’re horrible.”

“And you love me for it,” Shoko teased, raising her glass in a mock toast.

As they clinked glasses again, the tension in Musa’s chest eased. She wasn’t ready to tell Suguru yet, but having Shoko by her side made it feel a little less daunting.

--------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, Choso, Suguru, and Satoru were sprawled out in Satoru’s massive living room, pizza boxes and beer bottles scattered across the table. The TV was on, but none of them were paying attention.

“Man, it’s good to just chill,” Satoru said, leaning back and stretching. “No drama, no girls nagging us. Just the boys.”

“Speak for yourself,” Suguru muttered, grabbing another slice of pizza. “Shoko’s probably roping Musa into some wild plan as we speak.”

Choso smirked but stayed quiet, sipping his drink.

Satoru narrowed his eyes at Choso, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Speaking of, what’s up with you lately? You’ve been grinning like an idiot for weeks. What gives?”

“Yeah,” Suguru chimed in, his tone suspicious. “You’ve been awfully chipper. Got yourself a new plaything or something?”

Choso nearly choked on his drink, coughing as he tried to play it cool. “What? No. Nothing like that.”

“Don’t lie,” Satoru said, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eye. “You’re a bigger flirt than me, and that’s saying something. So who is she?”

“There’s no one,” Choso said quickly, though the slight pink in his cheeks betrayed him.

Suguru raised an eyebrow, his gaze sharp. “You’re hiding something.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” Choso insisted, avoiding their eyes.

“Come on,” Satoru prodded, nudging Choso’s shoulder. “Who’s the lucky girl? Or is it girls, plural? You’ve got that player vibe going on.”

Choso groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“Which means we’re right,” Satoru said with a laugh. “Who is she, Choso? Spill.”

Choso hesitated, his mind racing. He couldn’t let them know it was Musa—not now, not ever. “It’s no one,” he finally said, forcing a smirk. “Maybe I’ve just been in a good mood lately. Is that a crime?”

Satoru and Suguru exchanged a look, clearly unconvinced.

“Fine,” Satoru said, leaning back with a dramatic sigh. “Keep your secrets. For now.”

“Yeah,” Suguru added, his tone warning. “But if I find out you’ve been messing with someone you shouldn’t be…”

“Relax,” Choso said, holding up his hands. “I’m not stupid.”

“Debatable,” Satoru muttered, earning a laugh from Suguru.

The two boys are unaware of how Satoru knows everything already. He doesn't dare to tell, it's all on Musa to do so.

As the night went on, Choso managed to steer the conversation away from himself, but he couldn’t shake the tension in his chest. He’d have to be more careful—especially around Suguru

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

20 Questions for (Fanfiction) Writers

Tagged by @serbarris thank you!! :)

How many works do you have on ao3? 20 published! don't... just don't ask how many are on my computer hard drive.

What’s your total ao3 word count? 187,071. I'm going to be honest guys I did this with a calculator from my 'Works' page and only after the next question did i remember the 'Statistics' page exists and i did not have to do all that.

What are your top five fics by kudos?

Fallout from the Fade | DAI | 780 kudos F!Hawke x Fenris; 90k; In progress/hiatus: what if Hawke manages to survive being left in the Fade, but then has to deal with the aftermath? -- My angsty longfic darling, my outlet for cliffhangers and torment. This fic is on "hiatus" in that I have decided to stop posting chapters until I finish writing it to the ending. But it's not abandoned, just secret progress only due to the Agonies and Horrors and all that (grad school).

Provided it tied you down first | DAI | 527 kudos F!Trevelyan x Solas; 17k; Complete: Solas & Trevelyan have to go undercover in a Tevinter sex dungeon, and Trevelyan can no longer hide her secret desire for Solas -- what? yeah. i wanted to try writing porn for the second time and just looked through the kink!meme prompt list until i found a funny but challenging one. sometimes the fun of writing is taking something unbelievable and working backwards like, ok so what WOULD it take to actually lead to this otherwise out of character situation? also i ran out of birth control and became Compelled to write something horny. to everyone who asks for a sequel i'm sorry i went back on the meds too fast.

Lost to Night | DAI | 227 kudos Solavellan; 11k; Complete: Solas and Lavellan slip away for some alone time after the events at the Winter Palace, but before the party really ends. -- Obligatory Halamshiral hookup fic. This was my first attempt at writing smut, i would do things somewhat different now but I like the fic. The most important thing of course is the Angst is still in there.

Less a man than a wild cat | DA2 | 263 kudos F!Hawke x Fenris; 15k; Complete: Hawke & Co are out drinking while Fenris is away on business, but then a grey cat with white markings that look extremely familiar turns up hissing at Anders and demanding attention from Hawke. -- this is the closest thing to fluff I'lll ever write, probably. just some silly fairytale style fun.

Letters to Fenris | DAI | 200 kudos F!Hawke x Fenris; 1.6k; Complete: a selection of letters that can be found in Fenris' room, after Hawke leaves to help the Inquisition. -- Short & sweet, my favorite hobby is making readers smile and then punching them directly in the gut. Yay!

What fandoms do you write for? Dragon Age and Mass Effect (look... i know I only have one ME fic posted, but I did write a lot more than that. just never shared it). For me personally... fanfic is most interesting when it's for exploring customizable characters & their relationship to the world of the setting. Or the NPC characters in a world that's shaped by the choices of the player. I've never really gotten into fanfic for things like books/movies/tv for this reason, just rpg's.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Hoooooo so like... i do wish i was the kind of author who thanks everyone who leaves a comment and replies thoughtfully within a reasonable timeframe. I wish it!!!!! however the 6-12 months after I started writing fanfic, pretty much every weekend for me looked like this:

stay up all night Sunday writing a chapter

Once finished writing, reward myself with respond to comments on the previous chapter

post the new chapter at 4am with minimal edits if any

sleep for 2 hours then drive to the USGS office, get in the fieldwork SUV, and take a Car Nap on the 6 hour drive to Death Valley or wherever

spend 5 days wandering the desert measuring plants with NO cell service or internet

return to Civilization covered in sand and sweat on Friday, terrorize the locals of Vegas/Moab at the grocery store, and spend 1 day recovering and checking the internet/reading all the comments left over the last week/getting filled in by friends on whatever internet memes i missed while away

now it's Sunday again and repeat this entire process

Anyway this got me in the habit of like... commenting was something i did only after i finished the next update, rather than as people leave them (since I only read them in bulk when I got home). like as a reward to keep me motivated to finish the next chapter so i can talk to people back!! and it's been 3 jobs and 10 years(🙃) since then but the habit persists. but then if it's been more than a month the last update it feels like i'm Too Late to reply anyway so i often don't. idk! maybe part of it's also that i take a LONG time between chapters nowadays bc of Life, so, i am also hiding from the fact that i'm not ready to post the next bit yet. like if i don't reply maybe you can't see me spending 7 hours per day on tumblr wasting time, and be mad that i'm not writing. i know i'm the weird outlier about a lot of fanfic things and processes haha. i do love getting and reading people's comments, sorry i'm so shit at addressing them!

What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Probably Reunion, my pre-DATV release (so no spoilers) Solavellan one-shot where I wanted to make myself as sad as possible imagining a potential outcome for them. What's worse than one half of your ship dying? Maybe both of their psyches getting locked together and one subsuming the other, so what remains is neither fully the individuals or someone new, just a shattered amalgamation left to cope with all that.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Staring at this like. do i ever write happy endings?? probably the Fenris-is-a-cat fic, but even that i left kind of open. i think my Hawke-deals-with-Leandra's-death fic has a pretty hopeful ending, but the fic itself is a grief exploration, so...

Do you get hate on fics? Every now and then someone leaves a comment like "I'm so sad this fic was abandoned" which, is not really a very motivating way to phrase that. and i've only really abandoned like 1 fic, i consider the others just "perpetually on the back burner", but once you get past a year with no updates I don't blame people for the assumption. my writing and hobbies are on a geologic scale rather than the fast-past biologic scale of the rest of fandom. sorry to make this about geology again.

Do you write smut? Yes... though I've only published 2 pieces and have a 3rd currently being posted. A dozen or so more exist but don't yet have fully fleshed out stories to put them inside lol (sorry Rookanis...). whoops!

Do you write crossovers? I have not. Actually wait, one time I wrote like 2000 words of Mass Effect x Animorphs in a tumblr reply and then the page refreshed and i lost it all and the Murderous Rage about that was too overwhelming to rewrite it. someday though...

Have you ever had a fic stolen? I don't think so. I don't think my writing is popular enough to get noticed like that. Though I also write more than I read so if it did happen, I probably would never notice.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! Both Fallout from the Fade and Letters to Fenris were translated into Russian by a very kind reader :)

Have you ever cowritten a fic before? Nope. I think I'd be pretty miserable to collaborate with. I don't even use beta readers for this reason.

What’s your all time favourite ship? Listen. I know this is my dragon age blog for dragon age things but I'm breaking character for a moment here. for all my love of sollavellan and shakarian and fenhawke. My real otp is FitzChivalry Farseer x The Fool from the Realm of the Elderlings series by Robin Hobb. these books broke me. they changed how i think of storytelling and how i think of love. i cannot emphasize how insane the relationship between these two characters is, and i read the last trilogy AS IT WAS RELEASING, i waited YEARS for the resolution #iykyk. there is no greater love story in my heart than this one. "is it actually gay" it would take me 10 years and 10,000 words to answer that don't worry about it just trust me and read them. yes there's 16 but that's not relevant just read the first trilogy at least and if you have the brainrot you'll be happy for the rest and if not you can just stop there and be satisfied with a solid fantasy story.

now. i do not actually read OR write fanfic for this series. this is because it does not need it. to me the frustrations and agonies and disbelieving joy i get out of FitzLoved are part of what makes it perfect. I have basically nothing to add that is not already covered in the books and the ending, to me, is perfect.

this is the second time ive used this image in 3 days AND I'LL DO IT AGAIN as often as needed!!!!!!!! until everyone in my life gives in and reads them

What’s the wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Of things I've somewhat posted: the Trevelyan x Corypheus fic i got off the k!meme randomly-generate-a-pairing-and-situation post. I wrote a chapter or two more, realized it was shaping up to be Way too long to actually commit to at the time for crack-treated-seriously, and it's been backburner ever since. I would like to go through and sketch out something that is at max 15-20k so i can put a cap on it because i DO think it was really fun as character exploration for Corypheus who is otherwise a CRIMINALLY underutilized villain. he's great ok. the timing in DAI just... doesn't do him justice. also his best dialogue is locked to the Templar route which almost everyone else in the tumblr DA fandom skipped.

Of things i've never posted, a ME: Andromeda fic focusing on the relationship between Ryder & Sam. I got like--15k? or so into that and again realized it was gonna be a 100k endeavor for something probably no one but me would read, due to weirdness and tiny number of people who stayed active in MEA fandom. so i tabled it for a future ME obsession period that has not yet come to pass.

i'll also sneak in here my confession that I now have over 20k of words written for Rookanis and yet have not posted anything to AO3/only a 500 word snipped to tumblr. and probably several of these starts/sections will never get fully formed fics. but i DO intend to finish and share... something for them at least.

What are your writing strengths? I think I am pretty good at building tension, and making the reader feel invested enough to be sad/stressed/nervous when i want them to. my favorite compliments are often the ones like "i don't usually care about this character/trope/whatever but you sold me on it" because that's a harder target than someone already invested.

What are your writing weaknesses? Editing and then sharing it lmao. I'm GREAT at writing as in typing a bunch of things all in a row. everything after the process itself is done? not nearly as interested. I also have a hard time transitioning between sections/scenes and tend to overwrite the in-betweens to get from bit to bit--something that could probably be fixed more in editing if i bothered to do that part.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic? I think if it's more than a few short phrases or single sentences you can guess from context it can get annoying, reading wise. if there's some sort of in-line translation or hover-over-alt-text that makes it nicer. however i do write this anyway myself bc i love the idea of lost language/reverting to old habits or selves/etc too much, so like, just because it's kind of annoying to have to read through doesn't mean i think people shouldn't do it/it's not worth it. i sure won't stop.

First fandom you wrote for? Dragon Age: Inquisition lol. the first fanfics I ever wrote are still on my account. i wince at them now, but i think it's nice to have that proof of my progress/growth there. i don't need my AO3 to be a greatest highlights reel, just an archive.

Favourite fic you’ve ever written? Like Teeth Against His Heart, my Solavellan DAI-era prose poem weirdly formatted ficlet ♥︎ (on tumblr as the zine pages here, and on AO3 here). I am slowly Marinating the Trespasser & DATV sequels to this in my heart, but it will be slow to get them fully formed on paper.

whew 20 is a lot and i talk too much, this got long oops! Anyway tagginggggggg @baejax-the-great @m-m-m-myysurana @sageadvice @songofamazon @loquaciousquark @genjyoandgojyoandhakkai but i love reading writing-meta stuff like this so if any followers wanna do it, go ahead and do so & tag me so i can read everyone else's too :)