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daxisyzz · 2 months ago

Note

Hey there i hope you’re having a great day!

I was thinking about a version of Bucky in which he is absolutely head over heels smitten with his girl that he melts over her simply sweet talking him to get something she wants, he can’t even help it he thinks she is the cutest thing ever.

I feel like no one can do smitten Bucky Barnes justice other than you

Or maybe I’m being biased lol.

Thank you!

Hope you're having a great day too. And thank you for the compliment, it made my day 🫠

Here's your fluffy bucky story. Hope its how you wanted <3

Pretty please

Pairings: Bucky Barnes × Reader (established relationship)

Summary: Bucky Barnes is hopelessly in love with you. He gives you everything you ask for—until you stop asking. That’s when he decides to give you the one thing you never say aloud.

Word count: 1.3k+

Warnings and tags: Smitten Bucky, a duck?, reader feels slight guilt only for a second, lover boy barnes.

Bucky Barnes had faced down entire armies. He’d survived missions no man should’ve made it out of, stood toe-to-toe with monsters, and walked through fire more times than he could count. But none of that compared to this—to you. To your soft smiles, your gentle laughter, and your very specific brand of mischief. You didn’t need weapons or war to bring a super soldier to his knees.

You just needed one look.

That head tilt. That spark in your eyes. The way your lips would part in that little smile as you leaned in and said in the sweetest voice imaginable—

“Pretty please? With puppy dog eyes?”

He never stood a chance.

You didn’t abuse it. That was the most dangerous part. You only asked for little things. Cute things. Things that could never be considered a burden. And Bucky, well… he’d give you the moon if you asked. Hell, he was halfway to building a rocket when you offhandedly said once, “I wonder what sunrise looks like from space.”

It was a joke. A passing thought.

But Bucky remembered. Bucky always remembered.

The duck was his personal favorite.

It had started on a rainy afternoon, one of those slow, sleepy days where time seemed to stretch. You were in his hoodie, feet tucked into his lap on the couch, scrolling through videos on your phone while the sound of the storm tapped softly against the windows.

You gasped. “Oh my God.”

Bucky looked over, amused. “What?”

You turned the screen to him, pointing wildly. “LOOK at this duck. He’s wearing a sweater vest. This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. James. Look at his feet.”

Bucky squinted. “Huh. He’s fancy.”

“Fancy?!” you cried, clutching the phone. “He’s a whole gentleman. I would DIE for him.”

He chuckled, fingers drumming lightly along your shin. “Would you die for him… or want one of your own?”

You bit your lip. “Bucky, I am not asking you for a duck.”

He leaned back. “But you want one.”

You hesitated. Then…You folded your hands under your chin, your eyes impossibly wide and filled with longing. “Pretty please? With puppy dog eyes?”

He groaned, one hand dragging down his face as a grin crept in. “Not fair. That’s cheating.”

You beamed. “You love it.”

“I do,” he muttered, fully doomed.

Two days later, you opened the back door to the sight of a small, waddling creature in a tiny hand-crocheted sweater vest approaching the porch.

You blinked. “Is that—”

Bucky stood behind the duck, arms folded and entirely too pleased with himself. “His name is Sir Quacksalot. He likes strawberries. And cuddles.”

You gasped. “YOU GOT ME A DUCK?!”

He shrugged. “You said pretty please.”

Your squeal nearly shattered glass. You scooped the duck into your arms and spun around like you’d just won the lottery. “This is the best day of my LIFE.”

Bucky leaned against the railing, watching you coo over your new feathery friend. His chest felt warm—like some part of him had been waiting his whole life to see you this happy.

There was nothing he wouldn’t give you. No wish too silly. No ask too big.

At least, that’s what he thought—until you stopped asking.

It started subtly.

You still smiled at him, still kissed his cheek while he made coffee in the morning, still called him your “Bucky bear” when you wanted to make him blush (which always worked). But you weren’t asking anymore. Not for little things. Not even for something as simple as “can we make pancakes for dinner?” or “let’s take the long way home.”

At first, Bucky didn’t notice. Life got busy. He assumed it was just a lull, something fleeting. But after a week, then two, his chest began to tighten with something like worry.

You still looked happy. But it was quieter. Softer. More... reserved.

He started paying more attention. How your “thank yous” came with a hesitance. How you’d say, “You didn’t have to do all this,” a little too often. How your smile would falter sometimes when he gave you something, even as you hugged him and said you loved it.

And then one night, while you were asleep curled up in his arms, Bucky got up to grab a blanket—and his eyes landed on your notebook.

He wasn’t looking to snoop. He’d seen you scribble in it before—little doodles, grocery lists, the occasional poem or recipe. But this time, a page had slipped out slightly, catching his eye.

He picked it up.

And his heart stopped.

A sketch. A rough pencil drawing of a cabin. Trees. A porch swing. Notes scribbled in the margins.

String lights here?

Big fireplace with that armchair I love.

Waking up to snow. Coffee in mismatched mugs. Just us.

Then, the words that made his breath catch:

“Somewhere far enough to breathe. Somewhere I can wake up with him and feel like the world is still.”

You hadn’t shown this to him.

You hadn’t asked.

And he knew—instantly, gut-deep—that you’d wanted this more than anything. But you’d stopped asking because you didn’t want to seem like you were asking for too much. As if he hadn’t already given you his heart, his home, his soul.

Bucky closed the notebook gently.

And called in a few favors.

You were already suspicious when he drove you out of the city and wouldn’t tell you why. The trees grew thicker, the air cooler, and your eyes narrowed with every passing mile.

“Bucky,” you said slowly. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

“You’re being weird.”

“I’m always weird.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “If this is a murder cabin, I swear—”

He snorted. “Trust me. You’re gonna like it.”

When he pulled off onto a narrow gravel path, your heart began to thud. And then you saw it.

The porch swing. The twinkling lights. The tall trees surrounding the cabin in quiet serenity, the kind of calm you only ever dreamed of.

Your hand flew to your mouth. “No way,” you whispered.

Bucky stepped out of the car and rounded to your door, pulling it open gently. “Come on, sweetheart.”

You stepped out, staring at the cabin like it might vanish if you blinked. “How did you—?”

“I found your notebook.” You froze.

“I wasn’t snooping. Just saw the page,” he said softly. “And I thought… if you won’t ask for it, I’m just gonna make it happen anyway.”

Your throat tightened. “I didn’t ask because it felt… like too much. You already do so much for me.”

He cupped your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin like he was touching something precious. “There’s no such thing as ‘too much’ when it comes to you. You want it? It’s already yours.”

Tears stung your eyes.

He pulled you into his chest and held you there for a long time, his chin resting against your head, his heart thundering against your ear.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I know,” he murmured. “And I love you more than I’ve ever known how to say.”

That night, you sat on the porch with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, Bucky behind you, his arms around your waist as you sipped hot cocoa in one of your mismatched mugs.The stars were clear. The world was still.

Sir Quacksalot waddled across the porch in another ridiculous sweater (Bucky had packed a whole duffel bag of duck outfits, because of course he had).

And you leaned back into the arms of a man who would burn down the world just to see you smile.

He kissed your shoulder, then whispered against your skin, “You never have to ask, doll. If it matters to you… it already matters to me.”

And in that moment, with his love wrapped around you like a second skin, you finally believed it.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #marvel fanfiction

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kitchensinksurrealism · 1 year ago

Text

spent an hour making a list related to That Fandom, followed by an hour listening to the haunting vibe playlist, followed by an hour reading the fanfic we wrote about my band and crying actual tears bc it's the peak of comedy, followed by an hour thinking about all the things I've ever created that will never be seen by anyone either bc I don't know how to show them to people or bc people just think they're bad but either way I'll never know the true answer, and now it's 10.30pm and I've basically experienced the full spectrum of emotions: autism, existential crisis, silly, and the feeling of being unseen

#the list btw was working out which south park character canonically gets the most bitches. kyle btw #but yeah the 4th hour was typical after experiencing the adrenaline rush laugh attack high of the 3rd hour #(with an air of bittersweet nostalgia for the joys of 2nd year uni)#and the 4th hour was just thoughts of like. do you ever make the best thing you've ever made and then you don't know what to do with it #even if the thing itself isn't objectively Good. but it's still the best thing in comparison to everything else you've made #and for me it's the messily written script for that film i wrote #and the album I'd been recording since 2020 and finally finished at the start of this year #and like. both of them i spent so much time on and both were for my own enjoyment #like the process of making them is fun #but then once they're finished what do you do? do you show other people? or do you just keep it to yourself #keeping it to yourself is the safer option bc you don't know what anyone's opinion of it is #the only thing is that it feels trapped inside i guess? like you've just got it to yourself for no reason #at least put it somewhere. post it online or print/record it in physical form. so you have some way of proving it ever existed #but then if you do post it online there's only four options:#1. no one sees it bc they don't know it's there (neutral)#2. people see it and enjoy it and they tell you (good)#3. people see it and hate it and they tell you (bad)#4. people possibly see it but whether or not they engage with it you'll never know and no one says anything about it (????? worst option)#and you don't wanna be obnoxious about it by reposting it all the time so you just assume either people don't like it or just don't care #and then leave it #and it's not even anyone's fault it's just you have no idea where you stand with anything #and then that leads back to the question of why would you make something in the first place if all you're gonna do is finish it #if the process is enjoyable then just make small versions of it so the finish doesn't feel as wasted #more emphasis on the making experience. which is the fun part #idek what i'm talking about. does anyone get this #i'm not saying no one should ever make big things bc it's pointless or anything #but also what is the point in finishing something massive if it's just gonna be left collecting dust in your mind. and possibly storage #if it always feels like this i'm just gonna never finish anything ever again. and then everything will stay fun forever <3 #ramble

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rrivlet · 3 months ago

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hi I would really like to hear the story of you getting kicked out of a museum for being a 9/11 fan

Okay, so lets set the stage here. 9/11 happens. I'm pretty young at the time, and I don't remember shit about it.

Several years pass. I don't remember exactly how old I was, but I wasn't even 10 yet. I develop an absurd obsession with Aviation Disasters. I watch a lot of Seconds from Disaster about this, eventually learning that Human Error is my least favorite cause of incidents because nothing funny happened to the plane.

However.

I learn about 9/11 in school and my first thought is "this is fuckin rad" because there was a big aviation disaster. I love that shit. I learn that this happened because it was deliberate. I then discard this information because it's no longer necessary. Queue the start of my 9/11 Simulation Era.

I use everything. Boxes, cans, whatever is stackable. A few times, I make a cardboard airplane. My parents are none the wiser because they just think I love airplanes (which is true, but only part of it). This goes on for some time.

Now, the museum I mentioned in those tags was called the "Imaginarium" or something like that. Childrens interactive museum. Lotsa fun stuff, and my family took me there often. One of the things they have here (which is, of course, my favorite exhibit) is a flight simulator cabinet.

One day, my obaachan takes me to the Imaginarium. I take my time, perusing through all the exhibits, making the big bubble, playing with the air cannon, all that jazz. All the while, I'm SUPER excited to get to the end, where the flight sim is.

The flight sim is running some version of microsoft flight simulator and is locked on a cesna of some sort. It has fully functioning foot pedals, throttle, and flight control. I eat this shit up every time for as long as whoever is taking me will let me. You probably already know the shape of this.

The space they have you fly over is like, a small city with surrounding countryside. As luck would have it, the city has two buildings of remarkably similar height next to each other. Sure, I'm piloting a cesna and not a passenger liner, but I don't care. I'm in the moment, I'm fucking crazed out of my tiny child MIND about 9/11, and I can do ANOTHER simulation. In my head, I'm the second plane. I get close enough to the ground (having played the simulator a lot, certainly enough to be familiar with the controls), and I set course, full throttle, for the Second Tower.

As I collide (and the plane bounces around because the game doesn't do exploding planes for some reason lol), I say aloud, and very audibly, "Oh my god, they hit the second tower." Or something to that effect.

It's maybe been 5 or so years since 9/11, so while it's not 100% fresh in peoples memories, it's near the surface of a lot of people's minds. The attendant at the counter not far from where I'm sitting looks at me after I say this, makes a 100% correct read on what I'm fucking doing and what's going on, looks at my obaachan and tells her in no uncertain terms that we need to leave and that "this disrespect cannot be tolerated here."

I don't go to that museum again for many many years, and when I do finally return (for a field trip or something), the flight sim is gone.

But it's okay because I pestered a great many of my caretakers (including my foster parent at one point) with my 9/11 sims, and I'd do it again in a fuckin caffeinated heartbeat.

#post of the tributary #ask #9/11

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vividxpages · 10 days ago

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"problematic tower romance"

pairing: John Walker x fem!reader

words: 6.5k

summary: John liked to remind you that he was fifteen years older than you. You liked to remind him that you honestly didn't care.

warnings: age gap (John is in his late 30s, reader is in her early 20s), mutual pining, fighting & arguing, getting together, explicit sex scenes, (wet humping, vaginal sex)

a/n: the title of this fic is inspired by the book "problematic summer romance" by Ali Hazelwood! (big recommendation, I marked so many quotes of it on my kindle) thank you for everyone who showed interest in a fic idea like this, I was so motivated to keep writing because all of you!🤍 Enjoy!

ao3 version

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Everything you knew about John Walker was contradictory.

All your life, you had been trained to spot patterns, to look at a stranger and know their weakness within seconds. And yet, months had passed after you had become one of the New Avengers and still you couldn’t figure out the riddle that was John Walker.

He was made of the strongest steel, hardened from his life and never letting down his guard – never not hiding behind the shield of his own smugness and cockiness. He was harsh and commanding and older, and if he wanted to, he could be a real pain in the ass.

But somewhere along the way, between missions and the everyday life at the tower, something between you had shifted.

On the first glance, you had nothing in common.

He had a history, tragedies that had struck his life and evidently changed it for the worse and you were a blank slate, only growing into the abilities that made you strong and valuable to the group. Where he liked to stay for himself, playing grumpy old hard-to-get, you liked to surround yourself with your new companions, quickly carving yourself a place in everyone’s hearts.

Yet, there was an invisible force pushing you together.

And there came the day where almost inevitably, John subconsciously started to look out for your smile, his ears adjusting to find your sunny laugh echoing through the space that slowly became home.

Him and you drifted towards each other, circling each other’s orbit without meaning to. Closer, closer.

Neither of you had a habit of sleeping in and so, the kitchen was often shared between the two of you in the early mornings. Silently at first and then over hushed, small conversations that grew longer and longer over time. You discovered John was a pretty good cook until you weren’t even able to imagine what it was like to start your day without his greasy cheese and bacon toasts anymore. He often almost burned the eggs when he listened to you sing quietly along to the radio, in awe and mesmerized.

When the others eventually joined you for breakfast, the coffee between you had long gone cold with conversation. One last glance shared, almost like a secret before you’d go on with your day.

You joined his training – brutal at first, but so damn efficient – and he showed you how to defend yourself better, even letting you carry his shield for practice in case you’d need it one day. John didn’t know yet what the funny tug at his heartstrings meant when he saw you with it. And when you complained over sore muscles the day after, he sneaked you a salve from his private stash. He thought no one saw it, but Yelena and Ava shot you a knowing grin as you turned away with heated cheeks.

It was surprisingly easy to mess with John. It seemed like his shoulders only lost their tension when you made a joke, your sweet laugh a comforting music to his ears.

One time, Bob and you had tried to get one of the old kitchen devices to run since you wanted to bake a cake together.

“There’s no way anyone walking this planet still knows how to use this ancient technology.” Bob quirked his mouth at you and when you saw John come to stand above the two of you, a smile was ready, tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Hmm…let’s ask John, he was born among the dinosaurs.”

He cocked a brow at you, wanting to stay unimpressed which was hard when a literal sunshine was grinning up at him. “Really? An age joke? Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, studying or something?”

You stuck your tongue out at him, his laughter warming your chest like nothing else.

On missions, there always was a shift in him and gone was your grumpy yet soft John, replaced by a sharp and focused weapon of a man who yet always found a way to look out for you. You didn’t miss the way he started to stick to your side, even if it meant breaking protocol. The ghost of his gloved hands drifting over your spine, to move you out of the way or give you an extra push to launch into an attack he had taught you.

You were becoming a team, on the job and outside of it and of course, as a woman in her twenties, you possessed good eyesight: John Walker was, almost annoyingly so, pretty fucking hot.

He wasn’t perfect, but battered yet sharp at the edges, and when he leaned over you for the first time to grab something on the table, freshly showered, white shirt and damp hair, his cologne had filled your senses and you couldn’t look away from him.

The thought of him, the idea of being with a man who wasn’t only older than you but a steady, comforting presence in your life, kept following you way into the nights until all you could think about was him and your hand inevitably drifted underneath your bed covers, fantasizing about what could be.

It was the smallest contacts that haunted you the most.

His calloused thumb brushing over your braid. The way his eyes turned a shade darker when you looked at each other a moment too long. The warmth of his body when he brushed past you, getting to work and making you eggs the way you liked them. That one time during movie night his thigh feather lightly touched yours, your fingers drifting over a scar on his hand in the dark, barely breathing…

With the years John had on you – a decade and a half you liked to brush off as nothing when you thought of him, he was more experienced in every aspect and liked to show it. Whether it was his cut, commanding orders during missions or correcting your technique in the gym again and again, he liked to remind you that you were younger. Inexperienced to the world and its ways. Just a little doe that now played with the adults.

It drove you wild.

It turned you on more than it should’ve.

You had never wanted anyone more.

And secretly, while John beat himself up for getting a boner at the thoughts of you circling through his mind, you fully gave into them and thought: why the hell not?

During a mission in Rome, the tension between him and you had finally boiled over.

The others had stayed in New York while the two of you went to Europe, playing happy couple on a little trip while also spying on a cartel that had brought Val some trouble recently. Which meant that most of the time spent there, John was supposed to take you out on some fancy rooftop dates, with you dressed in pretty sundresses and heels as you tried to concentrate on the mission with his hand constantly on your lower back or your arm.

It also had been a shock to discover that you were actually the impulsive one in this unusual pretend-pairing, especially when this certain attribute surfaced during a chase through the narrow alleys until you had nearly caught a knife to your chest.

But John’s shield had been faster, catapulting the thing that could’ve ended your life against a wall and killing your opponent with it. For a moment, you both had stood still, breathing heavily as the reality of what could’ve happened sunk in and your eyes met. Yours confused and a little dazed, his wide and terrified.

In the next second, you were pressed up against the wall, your thigh hooked over his waist as he kissed you desperately, senseless.

Maybe it was the aftermath of the scare, the adrenaline still pumping through both of your veins.

Or maybe what had been blossoming quietly between the two of you.

In that moment, it didn't matter.

When he had muttered a weak “We can’t…” against your lips, you only kissed him back harder, your arms secure and wanting wrapped around your neck, making him bend down to meet you.

“I don’t care.” You had whispered back, sealing your fate.

Back then, you hadn’t known yet how complicated John liked to make his own life.

The rest of the time in Rome had been spent in a dream, the mission complete, the flight scheduled soon but out of reach. The two of you had let yourselves be swallowed by the vibrant city, getting lost in the streets and old monuments, forgetting of the titles you both wore and who you were supposed to be.

An invisible question mark floated between you at all times.

Will we? when his thumb brushed over the corner of your lip to wipe away some vanilla ice cream.

Will we? when you casually entwined your fingers with his as he carried your shopping bags.

Will we? when you watched the sunset and you leaned your head against his arm, one of his hands splayed over your thigh.

During your last night, after a delicious dinner where pinkies kept brushing and electricity sparking, you finally found yourself in his hotel room, drowning in his sheets and him.

You were tangled together, all breathy moans and heated flesh, his suit and your flowy flower dress dropped and forgotten on the floor. Your silky hair splayed down on his pillow, his broad shoulders reddened from your nails scratching him passionately.

John tried to keep most of his weight off you, but you kept dragging him down.

You didn’t want to be babied. You wanted to be covered in him, swallowed up by all of him and never to be seen again. Your back arched as he hit just the right spot and you gasped into his mouth, your hand pulling him down by his sweaty nape, ready to be devoured by his kiss.

“There’s fifteen years between us.” He gasped against your neck, hips rutting into you slow and deep, his teeth gritted and hot breath lighting you on fire.

You nudged your nose with his, forcing him to look at you as you bit down on his bottom lip, hard. “Congrats on knowing how to count, John.”

Everything in you seized up when he suddenly bit down on your neck, softly licking over the mark before doing it again just because you let him. Your pussy clenched around him, ankles locking behind his back and pushing him further into madness.

There was a crazed urgency in the way his hips snapped into yours. Like he needed to get deeper, no sight of being sated yet as he fucked you into the mattress. John was everywhere, filling up your senses as he kept you full with his cock, legs spread wide around him as you held on to him for dear life.

He couldn’t look away from you if he wanted to, fascinated with your rosy cheeks and soft, parted lips.

You were soft.

Not fragile, far from it, but precious to him and the others.

And even as if he was buried deep into your sweet warmth, all John could think about was that it was only a matter of time until he’d mess this up and break you just like everything else that used to be good in his life.

But he had never claimed to be perfect.

And so, he kept fucking you into an earth-shattering high, until your body twitched and shook in his embrace and you slowly fell asleep on his chest, his arms keeping you safe and close to him all night.

After Rome, he withdrew.

Putting a reasonable and safe distance between himself and you.

John had no bigger enemy in this world than his own mind sometimes and so, he carefully loosened his hold on your sleeping form the next morning, trying his best to shake off what had been growing so gently inside of him.

You had not realized the last time he planned to allow himself to be in a room with you was the debrief with the team after you got home. And even then, John had barely looked at you.

The next day, after sitting over cold breakfast for an hour, you understood that he wasn’t coming. And when he walked past you with Bucky later, jaw tense and face scarily neutral, something inside of you reeled back in shock.

The first few days, you were a little lost, the happiness you had felt when you had drifted off in John’s arms fading into a numb confusion. The passionate night shared between you kept replaying itself in your mind and you wondered where things had taken a wrong turn. You hadn’t been in a relationship before and you couldn’t help but think you had done something wrong.

And John didn’t give you a chance to ask.

While life at the tower went on, John avoided you, never crossing paths at the gym and even excusing himself from conversations when he saw you approach.

At first, it was frustrating.

Then, it became infuriating.

Your hurt heart built itself a cage of anger, a constant burn in your chest following you around until one day – after a good, healing talk with the girls and Bob – you understood what the fucking problem was.

There was a deep, heavy self-hate inside of John Walker.

A guilt he couldn’t brush off, dark and ugly and making him believe after everything, he didn’t deserve happiness like the one he felt with you. After his downfall in society, the split with Olivia…what good had he done to deserve you? What gave him the right to rely on someone like you, still so young and unsullied from the world’s tragedies?

Even after the mission and time you had spent together, you haunted him in his dreams, your smile and beauty brightening up his nights until he’d wake and hate himself a little more for not being able to let go of you. The idea of you. Someone young he’d have a second chance with. John knew if you were his, he’d spend every second of his day cherishing you, spoil you rotten and keep you as happy as he could.

But you deserved better.

So, he continued to give you space. When he refused to go on another duo mission with you during the next conference, suggesting Bucky could get the job done instead, you finally had enough.

You watched him leave for the gym like a coward, determined to not give up on one of the few things that truly made you feel alive and wanted. If John wasn’t going to talk to you or acknowledge what happened, you’d have to pry yourself a way back into his life.

Manchild.

You went after him, making a quick detour to your room to change into the shortest gym shorts you could find. When you arrived, John was already blowing off steam at one of the boxing sacks, his shirt drenched with sweat.

Leaning against the wall, you watched with an aching heart, the way his muscles shook, strength and anger searing through every vein of his. John was not going to stop until he’d either thrown the sack off its hook or you found the bravery to put an end to this.

“You should take it out on me.” You spoke up after a while, bitterly.

John stilled, breath heavy as he turned around to look at you. One look, that’s all it took. “Fuck no.”

“I want you to.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Oh? Since when do you care about what you want?” You pushed yourself off the wall, glaring at him angrily. “You’ve done an excellent job to convince yourself that you don’t want me. If you want to push me away so badly, I need you to fight back.”

There was so much unspoken between the two of you.

But you were a fighter.

If the point came where words weren’t enough anymore, you still had your fists.

You launched yourself at him, a surprised grunt leaving his lips as you attacked, unhinged and frayed at your very edges. You were tired, occupied at night to think of the one in front of you and you were angry that he possessed the audacity to toss you aside like you were nothing to him.

And your body held on to this ugly knot inside of you and doubled it, making sure to throw every storm of feeling abandoned and rejected into the fight. Annoyingly easily, John slipped into defense, keeping you away as you tried to crowd him, getting all up into his space with a growl.

Sweat stuck to your exposed skin as he kept pushing you away, never attacking back.

When your closed fist hit his chest, John didn’t even flinch and it poured gasoline all over the fire inside of you. You were getting messy, not smart or strategic anymore, just trying to hit him wherever you could while he kept his defense up with a stubbornness that made you see red.

Only your heavy breathing and grunts echoed across the gym, reminding you of when he had been on top of you, his cock dragging over that mushy spot that made you see stars, your mouths melting together in a wild kiss.

A sudden sob tore its way from your throat when the skin of your knuckles broke against his solid form and you hissed, head fuzzy and swaying on your feet. John instantly lost his posture, trying to grab your wrist and check the damage.

You struggled against him, hating the way tears suddenly pricked at your eyes. “Let go of me!”

“Hey, you have to stop- Stop, honey, stop!”

With one last raging strength, you pushed him away. Staring at him wide-eyed, you panted and felt every inch of your bruised heart beat wildly in your chest. “Really, John?! Honey? You ignore me for days, leaving every room like I’m the walking plague after you railed me into your mattress and now I’m suddenly honey?! Looking back on how you treated me, I am nothing to you, am I wrong?”

John stared back at you, hating the way your blood dripped down on the floor because of him. And the look in your beautiful eyes…he hated himself just a little more.

He rubbed his face in frustration, knowing that if he didn’t put his hands to use, he’d pull you into his arms with them. “You’re not no…fuck. I just shouldn’t have… I lost control. I was taking advantage and I’m not going to be-“

You scoffed, offended, and cut him off. “I can’t believe you. Are you seriously blaming yourself for me ending up in bed with you? God, I wish- I wish you would realize that I’m in fact an adult and have critical thinking skills. If I wanted to stay away from you, I would’ve. If I didn’t want to be close to you, Rome would’ve never happened the way it did. Do you really think I would’ve let you fuck me when I didn’t fucking want you so badly I can’t even breathe? Are you thinking this low of me, John?”

You hated the way your voice had started shaking, the insecurity of the past days rising again in your chest. For the first time, you really acknowledged the years between him and you. Your heart was young. If he was going to break it, you’d have all the time in the world to heal – but without him.

John shook his head, a tortured expression on his face. “It’s not- Christ, I could never think low of you. But this can’t happen. It’s not about you, it’s…”

Just as he wanted to turn away from you, you grabbed his shoulder and spun him back around. “Then tell me what this is about. Talk to me!”

You were standing close now, him looking down on you with dark, clouded eyes. Fighting against himself on the inside. Lowly, he said: “I’m fifteen years older than you. This is a new situation for all of us and if anything, I’m supposed to be someone who protects you, a- a friend.”

The word tasted bitter in your mouth. “Friends don’t sleep with each other like it means something.”

And just like that, the fire was back in him. “Fine, then someone who’s not taking advantage when there’s clearly a power imbalance! This is problematic.”

“You’re not taking advantage.” You urged, clinging to the little hope you had of talking some sense into him, although you felt just as mad as he did. “I want you. You want me.”

“How could I not want you?!” John exploded, muscular chest falling and rising rapidly, out of control when his heart was only screaming for you. “You’re smart and beautiful and the best thing that happened to me in months and I stood no chance, none. I’m trying to be reasonable and good for once in this new fuckery that’s my life and I’m tired of pretending I don’t want you and you keep making it so fucking hard to stay away from you.”

You were breathing each other’s air, the anger you had held on to not lose your mind slowly saying goodbye and vanishing in the depths of his blue eyes. John looked defeated and regretful and wide open and you felt yourself taking another step. Right into his space, his heart. (But that had been yours from the beginning on.)

“Then don’t.” You said simply and took his hand, his large warm palm resting in your uninjured smaller one. “I don’t want you to stay away from me. We can fight or argue or whatever it is you prefer over fucking me senseless the way I want you to. Even if there was a power balance, I wouldn’t give a fuck if it means I’d have you. I…want to be close to you and I want to fall asleep in your arms without worrying that you will disappear in the morning. But I also want to joke with you and talk and- go back to how it used to be between us. Just…don’t go back to ignoring me because I can’t take that and- I’ll murder you if you do.” You ended weakly, a sad smile on your face.

John swallowed hard, his long exhale unsteady as his thumb brushed softly over your hand. “You’re too good. I didn’t want to treat you like this, it’s just…I think I’m going to screw this over like I do with everything else in my life. If I’m ever hurting you again, I’ll gladly let you end me, honey.”

There it was again, the nickname.

Familiar and soothing.

Slowly, as if you were about to startle him, you leaned up on your tiptoes and let your lips press the smallest kiss to his stubbled jaw. Lovingly, you murmured against his skin: “Idiot.”

“I know, I know…” He pressed his lips together, his eyes so full of longing, you almost forgot to breathe. “I’m going to make this up to you. You deserve the fucking world and I’m…I’m gonna try to be better.”

You softened. “You’re already good enough for me.”

He didn’t agree, but he also didn’t argue.

Instead, John pulled you into his arms and held you against his chest. You let out a sigh, marveling at the way your head fitted perfectly under his chin, how you felt at home in the blink of an eye, cradled and loved the way you were meant to me.

“I don’t just want sex.” John murmured into your hairline, his hand rubbing circles onto your small shoulders. “I want it all, with you. If you’ll have me.”

You smiled, dazed and hopeful and wide open. “I already got you, John.”

“Good.” He nodded, his lips kissing the top of your head, then your temple, your nose. You could’ve stayed like this forever, tired out by the fight but finally at peace before his deep voice broke the silence in the gym once more. “Will you please let me look at your hand now?”

And despite the low throbbing pain in your knuckles, you laughed breathlessly into his chest.

For a while, things between John and you were fragile, careful.

What had started out as a fire out of control had simmered down to a slow exploration of each other, cautious of any more bumps his self-punishing streak could cause.

You were still doing breakfast together, but now those lazy mornings would start with neck kisses and tasting blueberries and pancakes on his lips. You still had some age jokes in the chamber and so had the rest of your team now that you didn’t hide anymore.

You were as unapologetic about your attachment as ever and you couldn’t help but beam every time John lost some of his self-hate. When your hand found his or your head needed to rest on his shoulder for a while, he’d let it happen.

At some point – you couldn’t really pinpoint how it started – John developed a habit where he couldn’t sleep without you. It started slow, with him quietly trailing after you once movie night ended, a big shadow following you to your room. He’d move in sync with you and help you out of your clothes only to put one of his shirts on you.

In the beginning, your heart had nearly exploded when John had crawled into bed with you, his touch searching but not demanding as he moved you like a dolly until you’d fit perfectly against him and he was satisfied with the amount of his skin making contact with yours. He was kind of like an oversized teddy bear like this and when you whispered exactly that into his ear, he softly slapped your ass and cuddled you even closer.

Those were the peaceful and quiet nights at the tower.

You came to know others, too.

There were times when John still blocked you off.

There was so much guilt inside of him, suffocating him at times where he would’ve shut off completely in the past. But when he drew up his walls now, they went up with you in them. In the dark silence of his room, where everything felt too heavy and out of control, you laid yourself on top of him, a warm and very much alive safety blanket that grounded him better than any self-destructive gym session ever could.

And when you brushed some of his hair away from his forehead, taking care of his bruised soul with the softest touches and words, John knew he was going to be okay.

Magically, your things wandered over into his room over time until you couldn’t imagine anymore what it was like before, pining after one another wall to wall. Your nights always consisted of murmured conversations now, nose to nose and keeping each other warm and comfy and you resisted the urge to pinch yourself if this was really your life now. (John pinched himself on a daily basis.)

He learned every way to make love to you, sometimes sensual and slow, other times hard and fast when you both needed it to be that. You were more than smug when you discovered that John was kinda getting off on knowing you were younger now, allowing himself to love you unashamed, for all you were.

Your hunger for each other was insatiable. Ever-growing.

Like a fire you could only put out when he was balls deep inside of you and even then, John and you burned.

This morning, miraculously, he and you had stayed in bed.

You had gotten home from a quick mission a few days ago, but the time difference was still messing with your head. Since John revealed himself to be an oversized cuddly bear, you had a hard time getting out of bed early in the morning anymore. Which meant: you literally couldn’t move because his arms wouldn’t let go of you.

You stifled a little yawn, content to watch the city outside of the panorama windows for now, John’s body a steady presence against your back. You remembered having fallen asleep on top of him, but now he was spooning you, your head bedded on his bicep and his other arm slung around your waist, massive hand close to cup your chest.

It was so natural, familiar.

If your mornings started out anything different than this, without him, you didn’t want them.

You sighed happily and shifted back against his tall form, luring a sleepy groan from deep within his chest when your barely clothed bum brushed against his dick. John’s arms tightened around you and he exhaled deeply, burying his face in your neck and making you squirm as his hot breath hit the sensitive skin behind your ear.

“’morning…” He murmured, his hoarse sleepy voice sending pleasant shivers down your spine. Last night, you had ridden him like a goddess, taking him deep inside of you as he worshipped your body dutifully and let you lead. He had stayed inside afterwards, out of breath for once and a fucking goner for the girl in his lap. But now, with him so closely plastered to your back, his thumb brushing lazy circles around your rosy buds, you knew he was far from done with you.

You looked over your shoulder and touched his beard. “Hi…time to take your morning meds yet?”

His nose scrunched up, two of his fingers plucking on your nipple and making you moan between your giggling. “Fuck off.”

“Actually, no.” You grinned at him, rubbing your ass shamelessly against the growing bulge in his boxers. “Fuck me.”

John shook his head in playful disbelief, brushing your hair away from your shoulder so he could kiss your neck, all open-mouthed and wet and exactly how you craved it right now. You could already feel yourself getting wet from being so thoroughly caged in by him, no chance of escaping his sweet assault. “Such a dirty girl…you already soaked, honey?”

You grabbed his chin and led him up, kissing him filthily as he moaned into your mouth and your ass rubbed over his hard dick just right. “Come and find out, old man.”

That was every invitation he needed.

In a whirlwind, John threw the covers off the bed, leaving you unprotected and barely clothed in front of him. You bent one of your legs, showing him how wet the silky fabric of your lace panties already were, your chest blooming with hickeys and bite marks he had left on you when you had bounced on it last night.

John’s eyes darkened, fixed on the dark patch over your center. He loved the color of your hair against his navy-blue sheets. Loved how you smelled like him, how familiar you were in his space. And he loved nothing more than fucking his girl into oblivion and he licked his lips, planning to do just that.

You writhed against his sheets, beaming under his undivided attention, breath hitching when he leaned over you and parted your legs with his hips. John hummed deep in his throat, nosing at your neck as he took both your wrists and placed them up over your head. Quickly, he pulled his shorts down and threw your panties over his shoulder.

“Fuck, John…” You stared up at him, trusting and excited and he thought, if he wouldn’t get into trouble about it, he’d keep you in this room forever. Away from everyone else that wasn’t him, his to cherish and love and fuck.

“’gonna take care of my baby girl.” He mumbled, kissing down your chest before he pushed his hips forward. You both exhaled sharply when his long, curved cock slid over your wet pussy just right.

The friction was delicious and you seized up, back bowing off the bed as he started to rub himself against your core, coating his length in your arousal like it fucking belonged to him. Your fingers closed around nothing, trying to center yourself and he noticed instantly and surged down, connecting your lips in a hot lazy kiss.

“Shit, that feels s-so good…” You whimpered between kisses. Your efforts to somehow match his rhythm couldn’t compare to his authority. It was John leading, knowing what you needed. You slumped back and gasped when the tip caught at your clit, soaking it in his precum too.

“Jesus, you’re unbelievable.” John peppered kisses over your boobs, sucking them into his mouth and listening to your little moans like it was a symphony. You were ruining the bed and he fucking loved it, feeling your legs around his waist, heels digging into his butt as he kept grinding against you.

“I need you to- fuck, get inside me.” For emphasis, you bit down on his bottom lip. “Now.”

John sat back, letting go of your wrists and being immediately pulled down by you. “Greedy little thing.”

“You were the one who woke up with a boner.”

“You rubbed yourself against me.”

You winked at him. “I heard old people often just need enrichment.”

John chuckled darkly. “Oh, honey. I’m gonna fuck the sass right out of you.”

Yes please.

He sank down on you, stroking himself one more time before he slowly pushed into you. You sometimes still needed a moment – the serum had enhanced everything – and he watched carefully, the little frown on your face softening as you adjusted, your hands a bit shaky on his shoulders.

His calloused thumb circled your clit for a while and slowly, you eased up around him with a sigh.

“’s good…” You nodded and tested the waters by flexing around him, eliciting a bunch of curses from his mouth at the sudden pressure. You giggled in delight, a little unbelieving, a lot in love. He was yours and he was not going to leave again. “You can move. Don’t hold back.”

John kissed you, pulling out almost all the way before he pushed back into you, making your toes curl as he started a steady passionate rhythm. You moaned against his lips, fingers digging into his shoulders and holding onto him tight.

“Fuck yesss…” You hissed as he cupped your bum with one hand and lifted you just a little bit, the new angle allowing John to hit your g-spot just right.

“God, you’re so wet for me, honey.” John groaned, resting his head against your shoulder and moving you back and forth on his cock as if you weighed nothing at all. “’m gonna make you see stars.”

The snarky remark on your tongue died as he swiftly turned you around on your stomach before immediately pressing himself flat against your back.

“You’re mine.” He growled, hand pushing your sticky thighs apart as he buried himself in you once more, your whimper damped only briefly by the pillows before his hand came to rest easy on your throat and lifted your head. A moment later, he bit you and you convulsed around him.

He fucked into you as if he hadn’t already claimed you for himself. Full of purpose and aching need, hot-headed and adoring. John bullied his hand between you and the mattress, cupping your whole pussy with it as he grinded into you like a man possessed.

“You look so fucking beautiful, honey, so cute with your little whimpers.” He whispered into your ear, knowing he had you completely now. “’gonna come in you so deep, you’ll feel it for days. My good girl. Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight.”

You sobbed in pleasure, not caring for your drool on his pillow, trying to grab behind yourself and push him deeper.

He growled into the soft space between your shoulder blades. “Still need more of me, hm? We can fix that.”

In one swift, strong motion, he sat back on his haunches and took you with him, your whole body boneless and slumping against him, just as you had woken up. Your back against his chest, your dripping pussy now spread wide around his dick.

You shrieked, feeling him up in your belly and grabbed his hair, letting yourself be lifted and pushed down on his cock like he wanted to. The filthy sound of skin slapping against skin, combined with your shared moans, filled the room. It was fucking heaven.

With one of his hands still resting lightly on your throat, the other sneaked down and rubbed your throbbing clit and you moaned his name, head dropping onto his shoulder as he bucked wildly into you.

“J-John, I’m gonna come-“ You whimpered, reduced to only feeling him, your combined scent enveloping you and mind slipping further away as white-hot pleasure completely overwhelmed you.

“That’s it.” John gritted his teeth, spurning you on towards the edge. “Come on my cock, honey. Let me feel you. Fuck yeah-“

You screamed, falling over the edge in his arms and letting go of yourself entirely. John held you through it, his hips bucking a few more times until he came with you, both of your bodies almost melting into one as he slowly let you down on the bed and gathered your twitching body right back into his arms.

He was still inside of you and you smiled blissfully at him through your lashes, brushing a few blond strands away from his sweaty forehead. John looked absolutely wrecked for you and you couldn’t help but hide your wide smile in his chest. You were so full of him, blissed out and sleepy and he was still there, right where he belonged. With you.

“You are incredible.” John said quietly and kissed your temple, both of you slowly climbing down from your high as your breath mingled. “So, so good for me…”

“If you continue sweet talking to me like that, we’re not going to leave the bed.” You whispered while drawing little hearts on his naked chest.

John huffed out a laugh. “Not a problem for me.”

“For me neither.” You playfully bit down on his pec and he groaned underneath his breath. “Just worrying about you, y’know?”

“Ah, come on.” His hand glid over your spine, softly stroking your back and keeping you warm. You felt him softening inside of you, but it’d be only a matter of time if you kept this up. “Don’t make me proof myself like this.”

“We’ll see.” You kissed his nose contently. “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.” John smiled, hiking your leg a little higher on his hip for comfort. It wasn’t the first time you had said it, the words lived in by now yet making his heart flutter every single time he got to say or hear them. He was home.

After a while, in the quietness of his bedroom, John blinked back at you and muttered: “I think I pulled something in my back.”

Your giggle echoed in his ears, his heart.

Recently, John was grateful for a lot of things, but above all, he was grateful that you had not given up on him and made him stay.

And now? He was never going to let go of you again.

────୨ৎ────

taglist: @sagexsenorita @ivedonemywaiting13 @soantiyou @fandom-trash-kenzie @iamthatonefangirl @gummy-little-bear @princesschyanne @starktonyx @slutfordaddyjohnwalker @olivia21blunt @somemadart @smooth-raikkonen @voidslxt

#john walker #john walker x reader #john walker x you #john walker imagine #john walker fanfic #john walker smut #john walker blurb #john walker headcanon #us agent #thunderbolts #thunderbolts fanfiction #thunderbolts x reader #thunderbolts imagine #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel x reader #wyatt russell #my writing #problematic tower romance

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maxiglow · 6 months ago

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a powerful reset for 2025

create a “no” list

write down things you’re absolutely saying no to in 2025, like overworking, toxic relationships or procrastinating and respect your boundaries.

unsubscribe from things that don’t add value

this goes from e-mails, streamings and services to beliefs, commitments, addictions, habits and everything that drain your energy and no longer makes sense to you.

set small, realistic goals

big and vague goals are harder to achieve. we all did at least once some megalomaniac goals that we didn’t achieved because they were too unrealistic to that moment. instead, set goals that you can achieve to fulfill your sense of accomplishment and actually accomplish something.

have a pre-reset day before 2025

disconnect from your phone for a couple hours and journal about what you’re leaving behind and what you’re welcoming in this new year. align with yourself and what you want and deserve. meditate about the vibe you want from now on.

give yourself permission to change

we often stay stuck in old versions of ourselves, so let this new year be the year you let go of outdated expectations you (or society) put into yourself. change your mind! take risks! start over!

redesign you bedroom

if you can, change up your bedroom (or any room you can/want) to create a space that feels fresh and motivating for the new year, like adding fairy lights, plants, move your bed and desk, create a functional corner to study/work. any small changes can make a big difference in how you feel at home.

prioritize! mental! health!

because a strong foundation in health, specially mental health in this era, is essential and boosts every other part of your life. try to live slower, don’t overconsume in social medias, don’t overshare, do therapy, take your meds/vitamins, journal about your feelings, have a trusting person you can always vent to and get help.

#self care #self love #wonyoungism #self improvement #positivity #that girl #it girl #coquette dolette #becoming that girl #becoming her #glow growth girlboss #positive mental attitude #self growth #self development #self awareness #self reflection #spilled words #glow up #level up

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bloomzone · 7 months ago

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2025: #2 u are the main character of ur life

✒️.U.NEED.TO.GET.CRAZY.ABOUT.UR. LIFE .THIS is ur life. your story, your movie and You’re the main character of it . But here’s the problem—you’re sitting there, acting like you’re just an extra. Let me ask you something: when are you going to wake up? When are you going to stop living like someone else is writing your script? Because newsflash—nobody else cares as much about your story as YOU should.

N1 You’re Not Here to Be Average

Do you feel it? That spark inside you? The one that says you’re made for something bigger? Stop shoving it down. Stop telling yourself, 'I’m not special,' or, 'I’ll never be that person.' Because let me tell you something—you already ARE that person. The only difference between you and the version of you that you dream about? Action. Average is safe, but it’s boring. U NEED TO KNOW Being 'okay' is easy, but it’s unfulfilling. You weren’t put on this planet to blend in. You were born to stand out, to do something, to leave a mark. But first, you have to believe that. You have to take risks. You have to dare to be seen, to be heard, to be ALIVE.

N2 Get Obsessed with Yourself

This is the part where people get uncomfortable, but IDGASS . You need to fall in love with YOU. Not in a shallow, fake, selfie-obsessed way—but deeply, madly, passionately in love with the person you are becoming.Spend time with yourself. Take yourself out on dates. Sit in silence and listen to your thoughts. Who are you, really? What do you want? Not what society wants, not what your parents want, not what your friends think is cool—what do YOU want?Get crazy about discovering your passions. Throw yourself into books, art, music, whatever lights you up inside. Because the more you pour into yourself, the more unstoppable you become. You’re not just living life; you’re creating it. So why not make it something spectacular?

N3 Stop Waiting for Permission

Why are you waiting? Waiting for someone to tell you you’re good enough? Waiting for the 'right time'? BRO WTF Let me tell you something nobody is coming to give you permission. Nobody is going to hand you your dream life wrapped up in a bow. You have to go out there and TAKE IT.Stop looking for signs. Stop waiting for everything to feel perfect. It’s messy, it’s chaotic, and sometimes it’s downright terrifying—but that’s the beauty of it. The magic happens when you stop overthinking and just DO. Take the leap, even if you don’t feel ready. Life isn’t about being ready—it’s about showing up, again and again, until you create the life you can’t stop dreaming about AND THIS IS DISCIPLINE

N4 Reclaim Your Power

Let’s get one thing straight: you are powerful. Not in a vague, 'manifestation vibes' kind of way, but in a real, tangible way. Every decision you make is a choice. Every habit you keep is a vote for the kind of person you want to be.But here’s the catch—every time you let someone else control your narrative, you give away a piece of that power. Every time you shrink yourself to fit someone else’s expectations, you lose a little more. Stop giving it away. Own your voice. Own your choices. Own your life.You are the architect of your story. So start building something worth remembering. And if people don’t like it? If they don’t 'get' you? Let them go. Your life is not a democracy it’s YOUR kingdom. Rule it unapologetically.

N5 Romanticize the Hell Out of Everything

Here’s the secret nobody tells you: life is as magical as you decide to make it. Stop waiting for the big moments—graduation, the 'dream job'...—to feel alive. Start finding beauty in the small, ordinary, quiet things.Make your morning coffee an event. Cook ur dinner by urself. Write love letters to urself. Turn sunsets into poetry. Life is happening right now, and if you keep rushing to the 'next thing,' you’re going to miss it.Romanticizing your life isn’t about pretending everything is perfect. It’s about choosing to see the magic, even in the mess. Because when you do that, life stops feeling like something you’re just surviving—and starts feeling like something worth celebrating.

This is Your one life. Your one shot. So stop living like you have forever. Stop waiting, stop hiding, stop playing small. You are the main character of this story, and it’s time to act like it. Get crazy about your life. Get obsessed. Because when you do, everything changes.Now go out there and make something beautiful I'm proud of u 143

@bloomzone 📇

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posts-as-placements · 9 days ago

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unhelpful + personal-observations-based guide on rising signs

aries rising -

confidence you’ll assume is earned. they radiate all things associated with fire and small dogs.

taurus rising -

within minutes of meeting you trust them with your life for inexplicable reasons. prominent sun sign, but with muted colours or as if seeing their sun sign through frosted glass.

gemini rising -

feels like talking to a version of yourself. old pictures of them look like unrelated strangers. good advisors, bad decision makers.

cancer rising -

look like the moon. softens the edges of their sun sign.

leo rising -

glow like amber in sunlight. your eyes automatically draw towards them. talking to them feels like remembering past summers.

virgo rising -

appear as if they’re always running out of time for something. make structured sun signs appear chaotic and chaotic sun signs appear structured. you’ll think they have things under control, knowing they don’t.

libra rising -

smell good. symmetrical. calming, like talking to a mother, in the mythological sense. good therapists and advisors.

scorpio rising -

sharp, determined eyes. talking to them may give you an uneasy feeling of them knowing your secrets, or feeling like you’ve said too much.

sagittarius rising -

big smiles. searching eyes. always going somewhere. jokes about anything. makes their sun sign sparkle.

capricorn rising -

children described as ’old souls’. prominent bones, angular faces. after talking to them you reflect on the future, not the present.

aquarius rising -

immediately recognizeable and unforgettable. everything they do feels unique. their pre-school teachers recognize them on the street. odd or heavy accessories. sharp, like snowflakes or stars.

pisces rising -

big eyes. creatives. look small even when they aren’t. experts in romantisizing details of every day life.

#astrology #witchblr #astroblr #astro observations

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captain-huggy-bear · 7 months ago

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The Sleeves

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Short Fem!Reader

Warnings: Quinn thinking you're hot af, so slightly mature in that sense but nothing extreme.

Summary: Jersey sleeves are just a little too long for you.

Notes: Reader is described as short but not a specific height. I, a short person, could be wrong here, but I assume the taller you are the longer your arms are hense the height focus in this fic. Also it's a 43 Hughes jersey not Quinn's own one because we're all different sizes and I don't want anyone to be unable to imagine it, y'know????

Had this idea cause my Jack Jersey has super long sleeves and it makes me feel safe and silly (I'm getting a Quinn jersey for X-mas from my brother and i'm very excited)

It's baffling actually, when you really think about it, that you'd been dating a pro-Hockey player for nearly 8 months and hadn't owned a single jersey until now. Sure, Quinn had tried to convince you to just borrow one of his, his desire to see you in his jersey practically an obsession, but half the time they were sweat stained and stinky and you kind of just wanted one designed for you and your body. So you'd gone to his games in just your normal clothes, sometimes you wore the stupid t-shirt Jack and Luke got you with Quinn's face on it for your birthday, but you'd never worn a hockey jersey.

This had seemed a shame and you'd decided enough was enough. You went to all Quinn's home games and tried to go to as many away games as possible, you thought that surely you should, as a dutiful girlfriend wear a #43 jersey. It felt wrong, somehow, not to have at least one, to wear one at least once.

So you'd bought one, taken your time considering which version to get, which size you preferred. You hadn't told Quinn because any time you wanted to buy something for yourself he always did it for you, claiming he had more money than he knew what to do with. As sweet as it was, sometimes you wanted to spend your own hard earned money. Plus, you'd wanted it to be a surprise. It was practically on his bucket list at this point, it felt like something...big.

So you'd kept it quiet, bought a #43 Hughes black skate jersey in a size just this side of too big, oversized for the comfort factor. What you hadn't anticipated was how you felt wearing it...or Quinn's reaction.

It was just fabric, just a jersey but the moment you slipped it on you felt...safe. The fabric was soft against your skin, not tight or claustrophobic and the sleeves...oh the sleeves were your favourite part. You were short, that was a fact of life, you hadn't grown upwards since you were 14 and you'd made your peace with it. Didn't really have a choice, given that you spent all your time around hockey players. Some of whom were absolute giants, Meyers came straight to mind. Quinn was considered a smaller player in the business and even he made you feel short. Being short, had the effect though of making the sleeves of your jersey gigantic.

You couldn't really describe the sheer joy you felt when the sleeves went past your fingertips absolutely swallowing your hands. You felt like a little kid again, you felt comfy, and safe. Maybe it was scratching some sort of anxiety itch in your brain or maybe it was that you'd missed this feeling from when you were a kid, the feeling of being so so small that everything else felt giant, but you loved it either way.

Your plan was to hide the jersey until Quinn's next game, ready to surprise him when he looked for you during warmups, ready for him to realise you were finally wearing his name and number. Something he'd been not so subtly pushing for months every single time he conveniently left a jersey out next to your game day clothes before he left for the rink.

The moment he left for the game after a goodbye kiss and some I love yous, you'd put the jersey he'd left on the bed away (no matter how many times he washed it it still had the lingering smell of hockey...) and reached into the back of the wardrobe, underneath a series of boxes and miscellaneous items, for your own. You'd hidden it well, so far back, it was actually a struggling to get to.

You'd slipped it on over your jumper and layers, letting the sleeves fall over your fingertips. That familiar safe, giddy feeling filling you as you twirled in a circle in front of the mirror before dropping your shoulders, closing your eyes and just enjoying it. There was something about the physical sensation that was enjoyable, the way it felt, the sense of comfort it brought, but it went past that. It felt good to look in the mirror and see Quinn's number on your arms, across your back, his surname plastered in the large font. It felt good to wear a reminder of him.

You opened your eyes after a few moments of flapping the long sleeves about, a childish joy in the flap of fabric. Your sight snagging in the mirror on the doorframe behind you, Quinn leaning a shoulder against it, kit bag at his feet. He had softest smile on his face, the sort of smile that made his eyes crinkle gently and had his teeth poking out just so.

You spin around to face him startled, not expecting him to be back. Your fingers meeting and twisting together, hidden beneath the lengths of sleeve fabric.

"Did you...did you forget something?"

It's obvious to him that you're trying to avoid the elephant in the room, the surprise he's clearly ruined. It's not his jersey, but it is and it's all he's wanted to see you in for months now...Fuck, you look good in his jersey. You've brought it in a size that's just the right sort of oversized, swallowing familiar curves under layers of black, yellow and red fabric. How you make something that hides every part of you look so good he doesn't really understand, but he thinks that maybe that just says more about how he feels about you than anything else.

Your hands are invisible, swallowed by fabric and his name and number across your back were practically searerd into his retina. A memory pressed into the pages of his mind. It's stupid, possessive, ridiculous, caveman-ish but, fuck, he likes that you're saying you're his, likes that everyone can see it. That it's his name across your back.

"My number looks good on you..." Quinn bites down on his bottom lip, tilts his head to the side as his eyes trail over you. The way he's looking at you, you'd think you were stood there naked, not swallowed in fabric. It makes your cheeks warm.

"Quinn..." You let out and embarrassed whine, hands coming up to cover your face as he trails his way closer, feet padding softly across the carpet. His gear forgotten in the doorway, the sense of urgency to get the last piece he forgot and get to the rink, gone. Game? What game?

You feel his presence first, feet stopping close to your own, his form towering over you as he wraps his hands gently around your wrists and tugs them free from your face. He's practically grinning at you, that one strand of brunet hair falling across his brow as he leans down towards you.

"The sleeves too, you look cute in it, fuck..." He tugs on the ends of the sleeves, examining the way your hands are swallowed by the fabric. The cute wiggle of them from underneath before being swallowed whole.

"This for me, pretty girl?"

You nod, feeling oddly shy in front of him as his eyes keep following your form like he can't quiet get enough. It's surreal, you've had boyfriends who didn't even look at you like that when you were dolled to the nines, you're just in a jersey, some ordinary clothes, everything covered, nothing special, "...It was supposed to be a surprise...for tonight."

"Ah," he fills in the blanks. He's ruined it by coming back unexpectedly, because he forgot his stupid mouthguard of all things. He imagines it though, being on the ice, looking for you like he always does, his eyes gravitating towards you like he's stuck in your orbit. He can see the way you'd look in the lights of the rink, his number proudly displayed. Could see the way he'd probably stop dead on the ice, probably get a bunch of shit from the guys, can see Petey shoving him with a laugh, but he'd not care at all because you're finally wearing his jersey and he's been waiting for this for months.

"Can you, uh, never take it off?" he laughs, tugging you closer, arms wrapping around you as his fingers trail across the letters making up his name on the back. Memorising the feel of it, his name on you, finally.

"Quinn..."

"What? You look...fuck, you look so good in my jersey, baby, like...unreal..." He means it and you know he means it because he's got that sparkle in his eyes that screams his feelings out loud without a single word.

"...you have a game to get to.." you mumble, face pressing into his chest, trying to hide from him because only Quinn can make you quite this bashful after this length of time together. Only Quinn can seemingly disarm you completely.

He presses a kiss to the top of your hair, cheek pushing against the crown of your head as he rocks you side to side.

"Mmm, you're not gonna take this off, right? You're still going to wear it to the game for me, baby?" There's a little slither of fear that he might have embarrassed you, that you'll hide the jersey away somewhere and he'll never see you in it again.

"...Yeah, i'll still wear it for you..."

He thinks this might just be what he wants for the rest of his life. You in his jersey, you with his name across your back, you...with the name you might one day share proudly taking up space for everyone to see.

In that moment, he realises, he's a complete fucking goner for you. He's well and truly fucked in the best sort of way.

#quinn hughes x reader #huggy bear writes #quinn hughes/reader #quinn hughes

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rxmye · 1 year ago

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" 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄 "

𝐀 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐍𝐈𝐀𝐂 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 — you're his entire world, his only thought, the very illness that has corrupted his mind and body . . .

gender neutral reader / yandere oc x reader / mentions of sleep medication / pathetic yandere / suggestive content / a character slightly aimed towards people with a savior complex

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: edited, Lucas first fanfic is out !! . . click here to read it !! <3

He was someone with fleeting attraction—yet a hopeless romantic, who'd spend most of his class time doodling away in his notebook instead of taking actual notes, writing these scenarios that played out in his mind—tired hazy doodles of small characters, blurry lines of writing, scribbled out text, as he struggled to stay awake—

He had never had a proper sleeping schedule, and if he did he'd never stick to it, a night owl who often faced the consequences of his own actions, sleep medication was something he was all too familiar with, the feeling of being restless without sleep, his nerves always on edge, dark circles under his eyes made him feel insecure, and alarmingly out of character.

He felt something touch his back, he froze, nerves all over the place, a pit growing in his stomach as he turned almost instinctively to face whoever touched him, pushing their hand off harshly . . . "Hey Yoichi . . what's up with you man, why so aggressive?!" Lucas asked . . and then he froze, letting out a nervous and rather embarrassed chuckle, "Ah—um . . sorry Lucas . . just feeling a little tired that's all", he replied softly, voice barely coming out.

To be quite honest, when he first saw you, Yoichi thought nothing of it, he sat at the very back and you for some reason, sat in front of him, not that he minds, you're presence covered him from the teachers eyesight, which allowed him to do whatever he wanted, he was even able to drift off to sleep during that period.

However, it wasn't until he found himself, drawing tiny versions of you in his notebook, little doodles, pink ink staining the paper as he hearted your initials together—his name then your last name . . your name then his last name . . . names of future children—that he realized he was crushing on you . . . big time.

His emotions was fleeting, it had always been, he didn't think much of it . . it was just a simple crush, everyone has one of those, and they go away with time.

Yoichi was a punctual student—and a well organized one—he'd rarely forget his books, much less the notebook with his embarrassing doodles of him and you, it would ruin his image to be quite honest . . yet for some reason he had forgotten it in class today, it could've been his ever-growing restlessness due to a lack of sleep, or maybe the caffeine that's been fucking with his head since early in the morning—he sighed—knocking himself out of his own thoughts, as he twisted the doorknob, hopefully the teacher left the class unlocked.

The door was open, to his utter relieve . . . wait . . . "y/n?", he spoke, taken aback—you were soundly asleep on your desk—you looked so at . . peace . . . calm? . . . Nothing could describe the emotions he felt as he approached you, slowly reaching over to his desk and grabbing his notebook, quickly stuffing it in his backpack—he should go . . , that would be the best course of action . . .

Yet he couldn't . . . he knelt down on the floor, leaning his head on the desk, starring at your face, looking into every curve and line, in his eyes every imperfection just made you even more perfect, the pattern of your breath was soothing to his otherwise restless mind, a soothing scent radiated off of you, and for the first time in months, he felt sleepy . . . like he could sleep without a care . . . everything felt so right. . .—nothing felt displaced or disoriented.

That was the day that started it all, it seems, Yoichi had started forming something that was akin to obsession, he couldn't sleep at all without you—a piece of you—something that reminded him of that calming scent that he felt that day, you calmed his overdriven nerves, you halted his troubles for more than a fleeting moment.

Yoichi knew what he was doing was odd, especially when he found himself picking up the wrapper you threw out, and taking inhaling it, his eyes growing half lidded—he felt like a drug addict—drunk off of you . .

Fleeting touches would tick off his ever delusional mind, a small compliment could set him on overdrive and in the back of his head he knew he was growing addicted, a pit in his stomach grew as he felt slightly disgusted with himself, with the obscene and rather degrading things he'd do, just to get something touched by you.

Lucas stared at his friend, who seemed no better than dead, "Are ya' okay?" he asked, looking him up and down, "You look like a train-wreck", he stated half out of concern and half out of clear disdain and possibly curiosity, "Is it normal?", Yoichi spoke up, taking a gulp of air as he continued, "to want someone so badly that it's hard to explain—like—a part of me feels obsessed, like I feel like carving my own heart out and showing them just to prove my love wont be enough—they could claw out my fingernails—and from where I'm standing, I'd still look at them with only love . . . but at the same time I feel disgusted with the feelings I feel—", Yoichi kept blabbering on, until his friend shushed him, taking a sip of his drink as he jokingly replied, "I mean . . if you love them that much, then their clearly the one . . ."

Yoichi blanked out, as Lucas chuckled, he has no idea how much of his teasing words Yoichi would take to heart that day nor of it's lasting consequences . . .

want more, buy my limited time only advent calendar?

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

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wuntrum · 3 months ago

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can you speak on your severance s2 opinions? i promise this isnt in bad faith or anything, im just anon bc im shy lol, im genuinely curious

i'm gonna put this under a read more because it's gonna be long but...yeah [scratches head] if YOU the person reading this looooved this season and see nothing you didn't like about it, thats awesome and i'm happy for you. i also liked things in this season, and also its normal to be able to critique things you like, love and light <3 its literally just television

generally, yeah, i found myself disappointed with it. i think the writing this season, both the dialogue and then the actual character/world writing, fell flat and/or seemed like it was completely incongruous with the characters and world that we had seen in season 1. i think something i really appreciated about season 1 is that yes, mark was our main character and the lens we got introduced to both the inside and outside world, but both felt so much BIGGER than just him.

season 2, the entire plot and world and characters bend and contort to make mark like, the center of the universe lol. it's kind of ridiculous, the extent to which the world revolves around him now. it makes the world feel SOOO small. parts of my favorite worldbuilding aspects are seeing how the outside world feels about severance--i think the part where we see how working as a severed employee makes it almost impossible to work anywhere else is great! and in concept i like seeing other towns that have been devastated by lumon's industrialization, though i don't love the execution that we got. so like...everything lumon does is about mark? ALL of it? i know we don't know exactly how long lumon has been operating but like...they've been working on this stuff for longer than two years, lol. like, how many files have dylan completed? irving? petey? that girlie who wrote the lexington letter? is all of their work literally meaningless? like i get that there were people before gemma who failed the tests and they died, sure, but what about when mark started working there? what about the files that irving started and didn't finish, why don't they care about those? ohhhh right, because that's not the one that mark's working on. i get that it'd be a big deal if they got it to work fully once, but surely they'd want to make it work AGAIN, right??? like a science experiment?? i just wish we got like, A nod to other people on the testing floor, because i think the implication is that all of them are working on files connected to…different people, but maybe they're all just different versions of gemma?

honestly all of the innie stuff this season just felt so…idk, aimless? it feels like parts of the building only exist when the writers want them to, and just generally are not interested in exploring anything outside of the romantic aspects for all of these characters. like sure, after the season 1 finale, their asses are not gonna wanna work (EXCEPT FOR WHEN THEY DO? TO MOVE THE PLOT ALONG?), but where's the camaraderie? what about all those other people in O&D, they literally export things to the testing floor, maybe they know about gemma? fundamentally i think the thing that's the most frustrating about innie mark is that they keep telling us that he doesn't care about gemma. which, sure, outie gemma, he doesn't have that same connection with as helly, whatever. but also, he DOES care about her, he literally knows that that's ms casey and that lumon was just going to do what they always do when they fire people????? like s1 mark cared soooo much about his coworkers, ALL OF THEM, even the ones that weren't there anymore—seeing petey and then ms casey get removed was like, a HUGE deal and vital to his growth as a character!!!! and the way that they constructed this whole season basically to remove everyone that isn't mark and helly by the end. lol. i'm honestly shocked that they didn't make a new version of the desk that was just two chairs, like dylan was just excluded from the finale except for when they needed him to come in and hold the door against mr. milchick. again. lol

i don't inherently have a problem with exploring the romantic stuff, i think that could have been done well, but i just don't think it was. and that's primarily because, i think the writing this season for helly was ass! they took away her agency and subjugated her to be just the love interest for mark! especially with the finale, i just feel like the helly i know would've been like mark, what are you doing??? go?!? like she wants to take down lumon, THAT's what will take down lumon! like whatever, mark made the choice that he did, but helly playing along with it makes no fucking senseee. like they want us to think that it's the same ol helly we know and love, they give us crumbs of her anger, like when she's rallying the marching band people or whatever, but again, only when it's plot convenient. WHY WOULD SHE NOT ATTACK JAME? he's like 90???? and helly doesn't like this man???? she has nothing to lose???? fucking THROW something at him helly!!!! the helly that tried to chop her fingers off and hang herself and gave that speech in the s1 finale is not in the room with us. and i don't mean this in a way where i think it's helena again, it's not. they've just completely fumbled her character because they want mark and helly to be together at all costs. and honestly, i think it's so reductive to make this show just about ships, but textually it feels like that's what they want us to do, and i think that's sad. again, it makes the show feel so SMALL, when the world within it used to feel so BIG and like we would want to learn more about it. i care about mark and helly--before they kissed!! i think it was rewarding to see the ways they challenged each other and grew as people!! them as a romantic thing could work but they haven't put in the work to MAKE it work. and, it feels like of redundant even to say, but i do think it's fucking ridiculous to write a story where we get kissing and fucking for allllll the straight characters and then the one gay couple doesn't even get a kiss before separating them completely and writing irving out of the show, basically. like what are we in, hayes code era television?

but yeah, the information they chose to reveal vs what they didn't was also frustrating. i honestly wish they revealed less! there's so much TELLING this season. it feels like they think we're stupid (which, i can't speak for the entire population watching the show, maybe some people literally do need mark to look at the camera and explain everything, idk). like there's sooo much clever storytelling in the first season that just, completely gets snuffed out from overexplaining. i understand in the finale that oMark needs to tell iMark about why he did all of this but like, WE as the audience already know??? we don't need to see this?? and cobel confirming stuff i feel like we already knew about how the numbers work and like, i just don't knowwww. like you can just show me it, i was picking up on it. like we know about the four tempers, you show it to us all the time, cobel having to look dead in the camera and explain it just made me feel like there was a better way we could've done this. i do think some stuff benefits from a "hard" confirmation. like i'm glad they confirmed the helena thing, BECAUSE it backs up and supports all of the lovely and subtle things they had already shown to prove that it WAS helena! like i've known since the first episode LOL, so they do KNOW how to do subtle storytelling. and i think the gemma episode was great, i loved seeing her as a character and thought it gave her so much depth. but again, i think allll of the explaining they do this season not only snuffs out the fun of speculating on the viewing end, but from a writing perspective it just kind of writes them into a corner. i think they're focused too much on making these elaborate set pieces and events take place without thinking of how they fit together, not only on like a writing/episodic level but just the world of lumon at large.

i think a great way they showed story in the first season is through the paintings, and through irving and burt bonding over the paintings! like it not only establishes the lore of kier and then we get to learn more about them as characters through their reactions to the paintings. the paintings this season, honestly, were weak, they were so heavy handed. love and light to whoever painted them, but they were nottt doing the job for me.

(this is a small thing, but like…the intake questionnaire asks them to "name a US state or territory," so they KNOW that delaware is a state. so why would they think the equator is a building? again its just like. a cutesy moment for mark and helly to banter but they could've done it in a way that isn't contradictory to like, our understanding of what information crosses over the sever and what does not).

i keep thinking about the ORTBO, and it just seems fucking CRAZY to me that they aren't freaking out about SEEING THE SKY? BREATHING FRESH AIR? FEELING FIRE? SLEEPING?? WASN'T THE WHOLE THING THAT THEY COULDN'T FALL ASLEEP???? i guess my impression of how the chip works is that the technology doesn't know how to handle when they enter a subconscious/asleeep state, so the innie and outie memories begin to bleed together, hence why dozing would be a bad thing on the job. but again, they clearly had this idea of how they wanted irving to reveal that it's helena in the waterfall, and yes, i did enjoy the spectacle of the episode, but its another example of how they'll build these moments and only focus on what they want to see. like there's so much interesting stuff that they could explore and just choose not to, because (usually) it doesn't involve mark, or mark and helly.

also, i'm just gonna say it, i feel like the writing for the women this season all was kinda bad! it's, again, a byproduct of the world revolving around mark now. reghabi is brought into the story when mark needs her, and cast aside when he doesn't want her anymore. devon has been completely reduced to mark's lackey, like i guess ricken and the baby are fucking fine or whatever??? because she only exists when mark is around, and her only job is caring about mark (which obviously yes, they're siblings, of course they care—but s1 devon had a life outside of mark as well). cobel is only brought back into the story to explain to mark how cold harbor works. i said this before but honestly i like the concept of her little solo episode, though the execution wasn't great, because at least she was doing something on her own (except for when she needs that guy to help her. heaven forbid a woman does something of her own accord without a man to help). and again, helly is completely flanderized to be mark's love interest. i think there's a way to have mark and helly be together and them be their own people, but for the length of the season they did not have the proper time to unpack all the shit from the ORTBO episode so everyone just…conveniently gets over it very quickly, like in the span of a day. like i do think it's a jump to go from "i don't trust you, are you even you?" to missionary under plastic tarps that quickly, i'm sorry. and i think even gemma suffers from this fate as well. i think with hers it makes more sense, like she fucking loves her husband, but i wish she was given opportunities to like…want things for herself, too. like she hasn't been outside in two years! i bet she misses her job, her students, her family, devon, ricken, like anyone outside of mark? but she has to be the tragic love interest that can't be with mark but can't run away from mark, either. she's reduced to set dressing for mark and helly by the end.

they constructed this season i think, with the hopes and knowledge that they'll likely get a season 3. which yes, we know now that it's been confirmed and approved or whatever, but they didn't know that when making season 2, and it feels like no one got a full character arc. it's all start and no follow through. we've had the same "mr. milchick experiences racism in the workplace" moment like what, five, six times, and yet we haven't even started to see him DO something about it yet? like sure he told mr. drummond to eat shit, but then to play along with the minstrel show cold harbor shit, they just didn't care about giving that plot line any action so it'll just get brushed along to season 3. (and while there's intentional commentary about race in the show, it also feels like there's unintentional consequences to their writing choices that upholds the whiteness. like, natalie is just forgotten about, reghabi is dropped as soon as mark doesn't want to play with her anymore, ms. huang barely gets to do anything before being written off and sent away, and yes, i do think having gemma suffer as mark and helly skip away is part of it. it leaves a bad taste in my mouth, sorry!). i think dylan is maybe the closest we get to an interesting arc, and i enjoy the inclusion of his wife, but even he's reduced to JUST this story, only getting to talk to mark or helly when the writers need him to, i guess. and the stuff with burt and fields is so nothing, like it feels like it should be going somewhere but they're just leaving it open for season 3 (i guess??? even though it seems like irving isn't going to be in it at all, so why would we be following burt and fields??? and also don't even get me started on how the outie irving stuff is just NOT EXPLORED AT ALL. like whatever sure who the hell cares, sorry for wanting to see that go somewhere or whatever).

it's too early for full reintegration to happen so, we'll just finish that in season 3. (then why introduce it so early in season 2? ohhh right, we need cliffhangers to end every episode on). it almost feels like they don't have faith that people will keep watching without introducing these dramatic moments, but it's all just gasps of breath, there's no actual momentum. like, i've already watched the first season, you don't need to bait me with the prospect of seeing meaningful progression and then take it away from me when the next episode starts. the structure of how episodes speak to each other is that they…don't? like obviously i don't need every episode to pick up on the exact moment the last left off, but the timeline of this season is just soooo strange. the first two episodes are in the same span of time, and then there's gemma and cobel's episodes back to back…it genuinely just feels like they didn't consider the season as a whole which, considering how much money and time it took to make it happen, makes no sense.

and to continue on the timeline aspect, it feels so confusing as to how much time has really passed. it feels like the wanted the structure of the first season, but the pacing mechanic of the first season (working up to the end of the quarter to get to the waffle party) makes the pacing of the second feel even worse. like a.) mark's completed like 3 files a quarter (if we assume he's worked there for 8 quarters, i.e. two years), so making THIS file the super special final one truncates the possible time by at least a third.but then also, b.) he's been at like 95% complete since like, episode 5..? again, i just think it should've been considered more during the planning stages. and it kind of boggles my mind that the creative team views the marching band in this finale to be analogous to the waffle party in s1 when, it's way closer to the music dance experience? (they said this in the like behind the scenes for the finale ep). and in that regard, it really does kind of feel like a retread that doesn't work as well because, again, it's all about mark! especially after the shit with the kier statue, why would mr. milchick play along with the song and dance, like it just feels like they wanted to use tramell tillman's dance experience again, and they wanted to use the colored lights again. he could've just stood by the door to make sure mark and helly stayed there, which was obviously the goal of having all those people there. and yeah, i get the work is mysterious and important or whatever, but the implication that they have ALL OF THESE PEOPLE whos sole job is to be a marching band makes no fucking sense, i'm sorry. i find it hard to play along with the worldbuilding, again it makes lumon seem like its run by like dr. doofenshmirtz or something, it's so cartoony. like are they a global and successful company, or are they incompetent and leave gaping holes for their employees to undo everything? this is THE MOST IMPORTANT DAY IN LUMON HISTORY and they couldn't…shut the door to MDR like they had before? the goat sacrifice room is directly outside the exports hall door? the music dance experience works so well as a catharsis moment because everyone has their own shit going on, and we get to see the guy who hasn't really disobeyed yet (dylan) finally snap, and we see the others come and support him as a TEAM. it's just spectacle for us, the viewer. and especially the thing where they make the panels with mark's face on it—HE CAN'T SEE IT???? i don't need fan service winking moments like that, i dunno, that just annoyed me lol.

anyway, i feel like i have more to say probably but i gotta go do things so, i'm gonna leave it here. in conclusion, i'm missing my friends from s1 MDR sooo so bad, i feel like i haven't seen them this season at all. i did like parts of this season, but overall it was not what i was hoping it would be. (i don't even really KNOW what i wanted it to be, and of course it doesn't matter what i "want," but i feel like what i "want" lined up with what they wanted to do explore with season 1 so…maybe that's where the dissonance is coming from). and whereas at the end of s1, where i left it being like "where are they going to go from here?? (as in, theres so many possibilities", this season finale has left me asking "…where are we gonna go from here?" because i'm left like, inherently incurious about the people we have left and the choices they've made. and, i feel like THEY (as in the executive team making it) must feel this way too, because apparently they've completely scrapped the writers room from this season and added on two new showrunners. good luck to whoever that executive story editor is LOL

#asks #severance #ive been seeing some people get silly anons so. just know if that starts happening #it will just live in my inbox. love and light #also it is just my opinion. we're playing with toys

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